arc4

Dear Reader, once again I am taking some liberties with the shift schedule! Please don't send me to the gallows for it! Cheers, Hyzenthlay

An Arc Through Fog
Part IV

I am just a stranger in a promised land.
I am only learning a game with rules I don't understand.
Going round in circles I've been round before.
I am lost in so many ways,
I can walk no more, I can walk no more.

"Light of the World"
Alan Parsons

Captain Stanley's eyes shot open. What was that noise?
Someone was banging on a door somewhere.
He sat up and slipped into his bunker pants, noticing that Glover was doing the same.
"Who's knocking on the door at this hour?" Glover asked, looking at his watch which read three-fifteen.
"Someone must be in trouble," Captain Stanley replied. He saw the rest of his crew stirring. "You all wait here 'til I see what it is."
He turned to Glover. "John, why don't you come with me?"
"Right, Cap."
The two men followed the sound of knocking across the apparatus room and into the dayroom. Captain Stanley flipped on the inside and outside lights.
Even before opening the door, he saw, through the glass, a man standing outside in the pouring rain, arms gathered tightly around him. It looked like . . . but no, it couldn't be!
Captain Stanley opened the door.
The man raised his head. It was Mike Stoker.
Both Captain Stanley and John Glover stood with mouths agape.
Captain Stanley was the first to recover. "Mike, what-what-come on, get in here-"   He stopped abruptly.
Ushering Mike inside, he gave him a quick once-over. The light showed up a series of bruises darkening Mike's face, as well as a split lip and a bloody nose. Stoker was dripping wet, wearing only his bunker pants and undershirt, the latter of which had splashes of blood on it. He was a mess, shivering and staring with a frightening vacant look in his eyes.
"Oh, my God . . . Mike, what happened?"
"I-I have to pay the cab driver," Mike replied.
"Cab driver?" Glover leaned forward and looked around the side of the door. "Yep, there's a cab out there."
"John, keep an eye on him.   I'm going to get my wallet," Captain Stanley replied. He ran back into the dormitory where Johnny and Roy were awake and awaiting word of the disturbance.
Captain Stanley didn't mince words. "Roy, John, get up. It's Mike. Looks like someone beat him up pretty badly." That was all the explanation he gave before grabbing his wallet and heading back into the apparatus room.
He passed through the dayroom again, seeing that Glover had directed Stoker into a chair, then he headed out to the cab still idling at the curb.
"How much is it?" He asked.
"Twenty-seven dollars."
"Twenty-seven! Where did you bring him from?!"
"I picked him up at a 7-11 on Treremont Street."
"Treremont?"
"Over in Lancaster. Looks like he shoulda asked to go to a hospital instead."
"Yeah, right. Here, keep the change. Thanks."
He hurried back inside to find his entire crew now in the dayroom. Chet was wrapping a blanket around Mike's shoulders, while Roy dabbed gingerly at the blood trickling from Mike's nose. Johnny had one of Stoker's wrists encircled and was taking a pulse.
Captain Stanley pulled up a chair, almost forcing Roy out of the way. "Mike, what happened?" he demanded.
Through his shivering, Mike replied, "I h-had a dis-agreement" He pulled the blanket tighter about him for warmth.
"Must have been some disagreement," Roy said lightly.
"Who was it with?" Captain Stanley was in no mood for lightness.
"My crewmates."
"Your crewmates did this?"
Mike nodded.
"Jesus Christ," Captain Stanley muttered. "What were you fighting about?"
Mike thought about this. At last, he replied, "Religious differences."
"Religious differences?" Captain Stanley thought he might have heard him incorrectly.
Another nod.
"Does Captain Moore know?"
"He knows." Mike's curt answer said it all.
"Did this happen on duty?"
"Yes."
"Mike, are you supposed to be on duty right now?"
Mike would not look at his former captain. "Yes."
Captain Stanley rubbed his hand across his lower face. "What did Captain Moore say when you told him?" he asked.
"I didn't have to tell him. He was there."
"What?" Captain Stanley's voice was incredulous.
"He watched the whole thing."
No one said anything for a long time, except for Roy and Johnny; but their words were quiet and restricted to the job they were doing.
At last, Captain Stanley spoke. "Why did they do this to you?"
Mike drew in a trembling breath. "Cap . . . can we talk about it later?"
"I want to talk about it now." Captain Stanley's voice had slightly more volume and forcefulness than he had intended. He took a moment to collect himself, then in a much gentler tone, "Mike?"
But Mike did not answer.
Captain Stanley saw Roy raise his head to regard him with a meaningful expression. DeSoto shook his head, and Captain Stanley understood. This wasn't the time.
"Okay, Mike. You can tell us in the morning."
Stoker nodded, but he still would not face Captain Stanley. He could not explain it, but somehow he was embarrassed. This was the one place he knew he could come to and be safe and cared for, where no one would judge him or question his actions. These men were his friends and they would do anything for him. He knew that. So, why did he feel so humiliated to be in their presence?
"Cap . . . I'm exhausted," he murmured at last. "Can I-can I stay here tonight? I'll just sleep on one of the extra bunks."
"I-yeah, sure, Mike. But let Roy and John finish checking you over first."
Mike nodded. "Okay."
"Are you hurt anywhere else, Mike?" Johnny asked.
"My side . . . my shoulder . . . everywhere."
"Why don't we go into the locker room and take a look?" Roy suggested.
Again, Mike nodded.
"I'm going to call headquarters," Captain Stanley announced.
Mike raised his head sharply. "Cap-no, don't do that. Please-"
"Mike, I'm calling headquarters."
"Okay, but-but please wait until I've had a chance to tell you what happened," Mike pleaded.
Captain Stanley gave a sigh of frustration, but he acquiesced. "Fine. First thing in the morning, then."
"Thanks, Cap."
Mike stood up and accepted Roy and Johnny's help as they led him to the locker room.
"Let's get you out of these wet clothes first," Roy said. "Does anything feel like it's broken?"
"No," Mike replied. "Unless, of course, it's me.   I feel like I'm broken into a million pieces."
Roy grinned slightly.
"I could use a hot shower, though," Mike announced.
"Soon as we check you over," Roy replied.
"Can you get your shirt off?" Johnny asked.
"Yeah, I think, mm-maybe I could use some help."
"We can just cut it off you," Johnny smiled. "I, uh, don't think you're going to be wearing it again."
Mike made a weak attempt at returning the smile. "Yeah, I think it's ruined. And I don't think-uh, I don't think I can raise my arms."
"It's okay," Roy said. "I'll go get the scissors." He was gone for only a few seconds; and when he returned, he and Johnny helped Mike get undressed.
"Oh yeah . . . take a look at this, Roy," Johnny said, his attention drawn immediately to a patch of reddish, swollen skin on the left side of Mike's chest.
"Hmm. Anything broken?" Roy asked.
Johnny ran his fingers over the spot with adequate pressure. "Tender, but it doesn't feel like anything's broken." He looked up. "I'd feel better if this were x-rayed."
"I don't want to go to the hospital," Mike interjected right away.
Hearing the edge in his friend's voice, Johnny let the matter drop without argument.
"Did you at least win?" he quipped, still examining the area.
"Does it look like I won?"
Roy was looking at a cut on the outer corner of Mike's left eye. "This is superficial, but I'll bet it bled like the dickens." A pause. "Well, the good news is it looks like nothing's broken. The bad news is you're going to look like someone tap-danced on you for the next few weeks."
"I'm getting used to it."
Roy and Johnny exchanged glances at this statement.
"You shouldn't have to get used to something like this, Mike," Johnny said.
"I thought I could make it work."
"They've been doing this to you the whole time, haven't they?"
"No, no . . . nothing like this." Mike's voice was dull. "I mean, they've-it hasn't been easy, but they never . . . they never did anything like this."
"You should have told us, Mike," Johnny gently chastised.
Mike shook his head. "You guys just don't know. There are things that go on at that station . . . you have no idea. I didn't have any choice-not without-not without ending my career for good."
Roy could see that the conversation was starting to injure Mike more than his bodily hurts.
"Why don't you take your shower, then we'll clean these up a bit," he suggested.
Mike nodded. "Right . . . that sounds good."

****

"He's out," Roy announced as he walked into the dayroom where the rest of 51's A-Shift was still sitting. "The second he hit that bed, he was out."
Captain Stanley frowned. "I can't believe this." He paused. "You guys were right. They were hurting him. Why didn't he tell us? Why would he protect them?"
"He wasn't protecting them, Cap. He was protecting himself," Roy replied. Seeing Captain Stanley's questioning look, he continued. "I think he's all out of answers. He doesn't know what to do."
"Well, I know what to do. I don't care what he tells us; tomorrow, I'm calling headquarters. This isn't going to happen again," Captain Stanley replied.
"He, uh, he said something kind of strange in there," Johnny stated. "He said there were things going on at 68's. I don't know exactly what he meant, but after our visit there, I can believe that those guys are into some weird stuff."
"But why would they beat him up?" Chet asked. "Because they don't like him? I don't buy that."
"I don't, either," Captain Stanley agreed.
"Well, if there are things going on inside 68's and Mike knows about them, maybe they're trying to scare him into keeping quiet," Roy suggested.
"But what could they possibly be doing that's that bad?" Marco asked.
Glover spoke up. "Guys . . . I know you're all pretty close to this problem, so let me present an unbiased opinion." He drew a troubled breath. "Either way, he's through."
"What?"
"No matter what he decides to do, his career is over." Glover went on quickly. "It's like you all said before: if he complains to headquarters, they're going to think he's just causing trouble. They won't do anything, and the captain at 68's will be sure to fire him for ratting on them. If he stays, those guys are gonna keep on him until he can't go on anymore."
"How can headquarters not believe their own eyes? All they have to do is look at him to see that he's being mistreated!" Johnny protested.
"He's already been condemned," Glover replied. "I'd even go so far as to say that headquarters sent him to 68's, because they knew he wouldn't last." He paused. "Listen, before I came here, I was at 107's. We responded to a lot of call-outs with 68's. They're a tight-knit group, I can tell you. They're standoffish, very . . . isolated-by choice. We never liked working with them, not since Moore took over, anyway. And then when Hernandez died . . . we all went to his funeral. Oh, it was . . . his own crewmates didn't seem to be very upset. Everything you all said about when you went to visit Mike . . . that was how we felt when we had to work with them. There's just something not right about them. And even if Mike's discovered what it is, headquarters may not care."
"So, what are you suggesting, John? That we just let things go on the way they are?" Chet asked.
"No. You're completely misunderstanding me. I'm saying, he's through no matter what, so you might as well do everything you can to open the doors on 68's, even if it goes against what Mike wants."
He looked from one man to the next. "Because you all know that tomorrow morning he's going to balk. He's not going to want to tell you whatever it is that's going on in that station. He's going to want to go back."
"That's crazy-" Johnny began to protest.
"Is it? He thinks this is his last chance," Glover challenged. "And whether or not you guys like to admit it, Stoker is not the type to admit defeat, no matter how much the odds are stacked against him. He'd rather go down fighting than just bow out." He saw the awed faces staring back at him. "Hey, he may have been your crewmate, but he was also an engineer. He was part of the club. I think every engineer in the county knows what kind of man Mike Stoker is. And believe me, events haven't changed him that much."
After a long silence, Marco put forth, "He's right, you know. Mike's going to want to go back."
"And if he does, he could end up like Hernandez," Glover added.
"What do you mean? Are you saying that Hernandez's death wasn't an accident?" Johnny asked.
"I don't know that. But if Mike is telling the truth, then we all know that those guys beat the crap out of him tonight. Why should we expect that they'll stop at that? If Mike really is posing some kind of threat to them, who's to say they won't use every means at their disposal to keep him quiet?" He looked at Captain Stanley. "Cap, he's going to try to talk you out of it, but you've got to tell headquarters. I'm sorry if I'm out of line, but I know how close all of you are to him. You would do anything for him, but keeping this thing a secret won't help."
Captain Stanley nodded with a grimace. "I'm glad you're here, John," he said appreciatively.
Glover hesitated a moment before standing up. "I like it here, Cap," he began. "But I'll tell you the truth. I'd be happier if you guys had Stoker back. I hate seeing stuff like this happen. Especially when we all know it's wrong."

****

"This is bad," Captain Moore groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes.
McCullough's face was impassive.
"You shouldn't have left him alone!" Moore charged, looking up heatedly.
"I was only gone for a few seconds. I didn't think he'd run off. I thought he was too terrified to move, " McCullough replied evenly.
"I can only imagine where he's gone and what he's saying and to whom!" Moore was livid.
"It was the wrong thing to do, Captain. You should have never ordered that," McCullough said.
"That hardly matters now," Moore replied. "We have to find out where he's gone and if he's talked."
"What about the rest of the shift? We've still got four hours before shift change. Shouldn't we call for a replacement?"
"Don't be a fool, Terrence. What would we say? If we said Stoker is sick, and he's out there ratting on us at this minute, that shows us up as liars. Four hours isn't that long. If we get a callout, we'll just roll with one of the ladder truck crew. If they have to roll with us . . . then we go out shorthanded and I'll worry about covering our tracks at the time."
"And if he hasn't told anyone?"
"How likely is that?"
"Not very, if we assume he was sent here by headquarters. But if he's here just because that's how things ended up, then it's very likely."
Moore raised a curious eye. "Explain."
"Captain, I don't think Stoker was sent here to spy on us," McCullough replied. "Maybe I'm being gullible, but I don't think anyone's that good an actor. He hates it here. And he hasn't made any attempt to be part of the group. Wouldn't someone whose job it was to get inside the group make a harder effort to fit in? On top of that, Stoker hates Junkers, and Junkers hates him. That's been going on for years. Every engineer knows about that rivalry. If I had to take a guess at Junkers' visit, I'd say he came down here to rub it in, to gloat in Stoker's face." He paused. "Stoker didn't run out of here tonight to go whistle-blowing. He did it because he was scared."
"So, you think there's a chance that this situation can be salvaged?"
"If he hasn't said anything, yes."
"And if he has?"
"We'll know soon enough."
"Where do you suppose he went?"
"Home, maybe," McCullough replied. "That's what I'm hoping, at least."
"I have other thoughts," Moore lamented.
"Fifty-one's?"
"Precisely."
"That wouldn't be good. If they see him looking the way he did when he left
here . . . that would cause a lot of problems." McCullough crossed his arms over his chest. "In case you didn't notice, his former crewmates seem to take a good deal of interest in his well-being."
"Yes," Moore replied with a slight nod. "I'd noticed." He drew in a breath of decision. "As soon as we come off shift, I want you to go to Stoker's apartment. If he's not there, call me at home. I think a little visit to 51's might be in order."
"Are you sure that's such a good idea?"
"Listen Terrence . . . I think you're right, and we've been playing this thing wrong the whole time," Moore said thoughtfully. "We should have been trying to lure Stoker in, to convince him that the department doesn't really care about him anymore. He's an embarrassment to them. They've sent him to this station to do their dirty work, and when he's served his last useful purpose, they'll nail his coffin shut." He folded his hands in his lap and smiled kindly. "But we care about him. We were afraid he was here to expose us, when all we really want is our religious freedom." His smile spread. "He doesn't know about the Rulings. He doesn't need to know about them. If we can pull him in, he becomes a part of it."
"I don't think that's going to work," McCullough protested. "Honestly, Captain, I think the best thing to do is leave Stoker alone. If he does decide to come back here, just let him do his work and leave him be. He wants only to finish out his time here, retest for engineer, and move on. That's it. That's all he wants."
"That's not a problem. Why, we can offer him encouragement."
"He's not going to fall for it, Captain! Why can't you just tell the men to leave him alone! Don't try to rope him into the cult! Don't try to threaten and scare him into silence! I really don't think you understand the kind of man you're dealing with! Mike Stoker is-"
"Don't raise your voice at me, Terrence." Captain Moore stood up and came around his desk. "I know precisely the kind of man Mike Stoker is. Our earlier tactics were flawed, but I prayed for guidance and it has been given. I have seen the way to proceed."
"Captain, please-"
"That will be all, Terrence."
McCullough hung for a moment, balancing on unspoken thoughts; then he turned and left the office.

****

Mike woke up shivering. He was freezing, yet the sweat beaded on his face and neck. He felt feverish, disoriented. Every pain forgotten in the terror of his flight to Station 51 had returned. Every muscle and joint ached. His head was pounding. His throat burned.
When the tones suddenly blared to life, he startled, but did not even have the strength to sit up. He could hear the rest of the men getting up and pulling on their turnout gear.
He heard Chet's voice. "Mike, you okay?"
Mike mumbled an acknowledgment.
"We'll be back soon."
Soon turned out to be an hour-and-a-half later.
Mike had spent that entire time drifting in and out of consciousness. He wasn't always sure where he was, sometimes thinking that he was back at 68's, but too confused and exhausted to care. Other times, he knew he was back at 51's. He was back for good. The whole thing had been a mistake. All the wrong had been undone. Everything was as it should be.
Only he was so cold.
"Look at him, he's shaking all over."
It was Chet again.
Mike opened his eyes. But instead of seeing Chet, it was Roy, whose face came into focus, peering down with concern.
"Mike?"
"I don't feel so good," Mike groaned.
Roy placed a hand on Mike's forehead. He raised his eyes to regard Johnny, just joining them from the apparatus room. "He's hot. Can you get a thermometer? Just relax, Mike. Looks like you're running a fever." He glanced up. Marco and John Glover were now there, as well. "Could one of you bring some cold washcloths?" Then he turned his attention back to Stoker. "Mike, how long have you been this way?"
"I haven't felt good for weeks."
"What's wrong?"
"My head, my throat . . . I haven't been sleeping very well. I can't sleep at the station. I have no appetite . . . I feel lousy."
"Have you been to see a doctor?"
"No. I kept thinking it would get better."
Johnny arrived with the thermometer. At a nod from Roy, he slipped it into Mike's mouth.
Captain Stanley joined them as Marco came back with handful of wet washcloths.
"How's he doing?" Captain Stanley asked.
"He looks pretty sick, Cap," Roy replied.
Captain Stanley took one of the washcloths and placed it across Mike's forehead.
Mike opened his eyes onto Captain Stanley's caring expression. The sight of him, the only man he would ever truly consider his captain, put Mike more at ease.
"Not feeling too good, eh?" Captain Stanley's voice was comforting. "Don't worry. You're in good hands."
Mike nodded slightly, then closed his eyes again.
Roy withdrew the thermometer. His frown was deep. "103.6," he said softly. "Yep, he's definitely sick. Mike . . . you said your throat hurts. Let me take a look. Open your mouth. Oh . . . yeah, looks like a bad case of strep." He looked at Johnny. "Can you hand me the stethoscope?" He lifted the blanket and the undershirt Mike had borrowed from Captain Stanley. "Take a deep breath, Mike. Okay, again. Can you sit up?"
Mike sat up. He felt the cold of the stethoscope on his back.
"Take a deep breath. Come on, Mike, a deep breath. Is that the best you can do?"
Mike nodded.
"Okay, you can lie back down."
Roy looked to Captain Stanley. "He needs to go to the hospital."
"It's that bad?"
"I don't think he's in any immediate danger, but he's probably got pneumonia or maybe mononucleosis. He's got all the symptoms of either one. His lungs sound pretty congested. And with the way they've been running him ragged at 68's, that can't be helping matters any. Look at him, Cap. He's down for the count."
"I'll put you 10-8 to Rampart."
"I think that's the best idea," Roy replied. "We'll stay on the air."

****

When they returned, Johnny took Mike straight into the dormitory, while Roy headed for the dayroom where, at just after seven o'clock, the rest of A-Shift was gathered, drinking coffee and waiting for Chet to finish making blueberry pancakes.
Captain Stanley was the first to speak. "Where are Mike and John?"
"In the dorm. Mike's going straight to bed," Roy replied.
"So, what was the diagnosis?" This was also from Captain Stanley.
"Bacterial pneumonia-walking pneumonia," Roy replied. "Doctor Early said Mike's probably had it for months, and it's just been getting worse and worse."
"Were they able to do anything for him?"
"Well, they wanted him to stay in the hospital for at least twenty-four hours, but he refused; so they did what they could. He was pretty dehydrated, so they put him on an IV for a while. They gave him a shot of penicillin for the infection in his throat and some antibiotics. Other than that - bed rest and lots of fluids. And a big bottle of liquid codeine. Doctor Early recommended two weeks of absolutely no activity. Then a month of light work, half-days. Then, a re-evaluation." He paused. "He also suggested we make sure someone's around to look after him for the next several days. His temperature's gone down, but it's still pretty high. That's why we brought him back here. Plus, he didn't want to stay at his apartment. So, we swung by his place, picked up a few things and came back here."
"Did he say anything about what happened?"
"Nothing. Not to us and not to Doctor Early, although I know Doctor Early asked him. He commented right away that Mike looked like he'd been beaten up. Mike didn't tell him anything."
Captain Stanley sighed and stood up. "Well . . . I guess I'd better go try to talk to him before the codeine knocks him out."
"Cap . . . he's not doing too well, so take it easy on him," Roy implored.
Captain Stanley looked at DeSoto. "I can't take it easy, Roy. Truth is, it's not going to be easy - on him or me or anyone else. But I can't stand by and pretend I don't know what's going on."
With that, he headed out into the apparatus room, meeting Johnny halfway.
"He's in there?" Captain Stanley asked.
"Yeah," Johnny replied. "I was going to get a spoon from the kitchen, but then he decided to just swig the codeine. He's going to be feeling pretty good soon."
Captain Stanley went into the dormitory. He found Mike already in bed again, eyes closed, a youthful pouty expression on his face. He looked remarkably like a sick child.
"Mike? Mike?"
Mike opened his eyes reluctantly. He should have known Captain Stanley would not be moved by pity for a sleeping man.
"Hey, Cap." He started to sit up, feeling silly and undignified lying there in bed.
"No, stay down. Don't get up. You're sick," Captain Stanley insisted.
Mike relaxed back onto the bed, feeling self-conscious.
"Looks like you're going to be out for a while," Captain Stanley said with a kind grin.
"Yeah."
"Well, we'll take good care of you."
"I know."
Captain Stanley waited a few seconds, then he went straight to the point.
"Tell me what happened, Mike."
Mike hesitated. "Cap, I don't know if-"
"This isn't up for debate," Captain Stanley cut him off.
Mike broke out his best plaintive grin. "No, I didn't think it would be."
But this time it wasn't working.
"I'm not joking with you, Mike. You're going to tell me what happened, and I'm going to tell headquarters."
"Cap, it won't make any difference," Mike protested.
"Let me decide that."
"Cap-"
"I'm not going to argue this with you. Why did you come here if you didn't want our help? Why did you tell us your crewmates had done this to you if you didn't want us to do something about it?" Captain Stanley scowled. "Damn it, Mike, I'm not going to let you do this again!"
Stoker looked away uncomfortably.
"You get in trouble, and then you try to sweep it under the rug," Captain Stanley went on. "You come here looking like that, telling us your crewmates beat you up, and now you don't want to tell us anything about it? What kind of friends would we be if we just ignored this?"
"Cap . . . you don't understand. The things that are going on in that place are so unreal . . . what if headquarters doesn't believe me? What if they think this is all my fault, and I lose my job?"
"At this point, that's a chance I'm willing to take-"
"A chance you're willing to take? This is my career we talking about, Cap-"
"Wrong, Mike," Captain Stanley interrupted. "This is your life we're talking about."
"I don't think my life's in any danger-"
"Then what do you call all this?" Captain Stanley made a sweeping gesture to encompass Stoker's body. "What do you call pneumonia? What do you call exhaustion? What do you call all these bruises and cuts?"
"They're just trying to intimidate me-"
"Why?!" Captain Stanley demanded. "I want you to tell me what is going on!"
"It's not that simple," Mike replied.
"It is that simple." Captain Stanley was growing livid. "You might as well tell me, Mike. I'm going to talk to headquarters no matter what."
Mike considered for a long time. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore." He paused, then announced with no fanfare, no flourishes, "They're devil-worshippers."
Of all the possible answers Captain Stanley had been expecting to hear, this was not among them. He stared, dumbfounded, for several seconds. Then at last, he cleared his throat. "What?"
"They worship the devil," Mike repeated.
"How do you know this?"
"One of them told me. And I've seen them . . . they do these ritual things in the basement of one of the abandoned buildings behind the station. They tried to keep it secret, but I've been watching them on and off. Last night, they caught me. I guess they wanted to teach me a lesson."
"What about all the other times?"
"What other times?" Mike was beginning to sound defensive.
"Come on, Mike, even I've noticed that you haven't been well since you started at that place. If you're not covered with bruises, you're lethargic, you're quiet - even for you, and now they've run you so into the ground, you've got pneumonia-"
"What do you want me to do?!" Mike burst out suddenly. "I have no choices! I have no options! I'm doing everything I can to hang on to the most important thing in my life! This isn't your decision, Cap!"
This explosion of temper, extraordinary coming from Mike Stoker, forced Captain Stanley to retrace his steps. But he wasn't going to back down.
"It's not my decision what you do, Mike," Captain Stanley replied in a quiet, contained voice. "But I have a decision to make, too. How do you think I can stand by and watch you jeopardize your life in that place?" Mike opened his mouth to protest, but Captain Stanley cut him off. "No, let me finish. I'm not the only one who's worried, Mike. The guys told me about their trip to visit you at 68's. I know you're smarter than this. You're smart enough not to stay in a place where they're hurting you-"
"I don't intend to stay there, Cap," Mike replied. "But I have to find the right way out, and it has to be my way. I've got time to think about it. Doctor Early put me on convalescent leave. Let me have that time to think about this."
Captain Stanley hesitated only a moment.
"Sure, Mike," he replied in an expressionless voice. "Sure." He stood up. "I'll let you get some sleep. You look like you need it."
"Thanks, Cap."
Captain Stanley shook his head. "Don't thank me." He walked out across the apparatus room and into his office.
He sat down at his desk and picked up the phone.

****

I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered,
But you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered.

"In a Big Country"
Big Country

"Cap?"
Captain Stanley looked up from his desk.
"Yeah, Chet?"
"Someone's here to see you."
The look on Kelly's face told Captain Stanley the visitor was an unwelcome one. His first thought was that it must be Captain Junkers.
"Who is it?"
"Captain Moore."
"From Mike's station?"
Chet nodded.
"Tell him to come in."
Chet disappeared, and a few seconds later, Captain Moore stood in the doorway.
"Captain Stanley?"
"Yes," Captain Stanley replied without getting up. His voice was cold, his manner frigid. "Come in."
Moore came in and sat down.
"I'm Jeff Moore from Station 68," he announced in a voice only marginally warmer than Stanley's.
"What can I do for you?"
"I think one of my men might be here."
Captain Stanley's face was impassive.
Moore was not put off. "Mike Stoker. Is he here?"
Captain Stanley regarded Captain Moore for a long time before replying. "Yes, he's here."
"I'd like to see him."
"No."
Moore met Captain Stanley's gaze with bold neutrality. "You're denying me the right to see my own man?"
"He's sleeping. He's sick."
"I'm his captain. I'd think he'd want to see me."
"I told you, he's not well."
Moore stared at Captain Stanley. Both men were barely able to conceal their dislike of the other. At last, Moore announced, "He left the station four hours prior to shift change. He's in a good amount of trouble."
"Why did he leave?" Captain Stanley asked, leaning back in his chair.
"He got into a fight with some of his crewmates." Moore was impeccably cool.
"What were they fighting about?"
"I'm sure Mike's already told you all this."
"Then you can corroborate his story. What were they fighting about?"
Moore's dissembling was masterful. "Do you want the honest truth, Captain
Stanley? I can give it to you, but I know how fond you are of Stoker. You won't like what I have to say."
"Tell me anyway."
"Very well. Mike's had trouble since the day he arrived at my station. He just doesn't want to fit in. Quite frankly, he thinks he's too good for us. He has a tendency to make a lot of comparisons. Everything is, 'At 51's, we do this' or 'At my last station., we had that'. It's too much to ask any man to listen to such negativism all day long. But whenever his crewmates try to point this out to him . . . " Moore shook his head. "You know, I've heard that Stoker used to be a very polite, quiet . . . er, docile man. Apparently, the accident and the investigation changed him. He's bitter, angry . . . not a pleasant person to have around."
Captain Stanley was unflinching. "That's a bunch of crap."
"Have you been working with him for the past eight months?"
"If you're trying to tell me that Mike is picking fights and asking to be knocked around, then you're a bigger fool than I thought. I've known Mike Stoker for almost eight years now. I know what he's capable of and what he's not. And this line you're feeding me right now . . . it's bullshit."
"Well then, you explain it to me. We had no troubles at all until Stoker showed up. He came in with an attitude against us, against the entire department. You can think he's the poor victim, the good-hearted saint; but he isn't. Maybe he was once, but not anymore."
"If he's that changed, it's because you did it to him," Captain Stanley thrust out.
"Me? Why-what did he tell you?"
"He said he got into an argument with the guys at the station. And he said you watched while they beat him up."
"Do you believe him?"
"Mike has no reason to lie."
"Is that so?"
"If he's lying, you can tell me why."
Captain Moore narrowed his eyes. "I think I already have. Stoker is spoiled. I think he's been coddled since the day he joined the department. Now, he's lost his wings, and he's being forced to see fire fighting for what it really is. He's not adjusting to that, and he's not interested in adjusting. He knows he's on his way out, and he wants to cause as much pain as possible."
"Even if that were true, it doesn't give your men the green light to abuse him the way they did last night. And it doesn't mean you're going to see him now."
"You have no authority to deny me from seeing my own man," Moore said.
"I am the authority in this station. And if I have my way, Mike won't be your man much longer."
Moore smiled and stood up. "You'd be doing me the favor." He went to the door, stopping with his hand on the knob. "But until then, would you be so kind as to inform Mr. Stoker that I was here and if I don't hear from him by the start of the next shift, I will take administrative action." He paused. "In short, Captain Stanley, I will begin processing him for immediate dismissal and termination from department service."

****

It was nearly four o'clock before Chief McConnikee finally made it out to Station 51. He found Captain Stanley filling out the log for a traffic accident the station had responded to earlier in the day.
"Hank! I made it at last!" McConnikee's buoyancy, which usually set Captain Stanley's hair on end, was met this time with anxious approval.
"Chief, I'm glad you could make it."
"You said you had something you wanted me to see. How could I pass up such a mysterious invitation? Especially from you, Hank."
Captain Stanley nodded curtly. "Well, I don't think you're going to like this surprise, Chief. Come with me." They walked across the apparatus room and into the dormitory. Captain Stanley led McConnikee to the far end of the room.
In the last bed, Stoker lay in a deep, drug-induced sleep.
Chief McConnikee stepped closer.
"My God," he whispered.
"He showed up here at three o'clock this morning, beat up just like you see," Captain Stanley said quietly. "We took him to the hospital. He's got pneumonia, on top of everything else. He's been here with us ever since."
"Who did this to him?"
"He said his crewmates did it."
Chief McConnikee looked up. "What?"
"He said they got into a fight over religious differences." A pause. "They're doing some kind of ritual at 68's, and they caught Mike watching them."
For a long moment, McConnikee could do nothing but stare in shock at Captain Stanley. When he spoke, his voice had a tremor in it that Captain Stanley would never have thought possible.
"He told you that? He told you he saw them doing this ritual?"
Captain Stanley nodded. "He didn't give me any details. He didn't want to talk about it, and he definitely didn't want me telling anyone else. But I had to do something, Chief. Mike hasn't been well since he started working there."
Chief McConnikee sighed. "Come on, let's go back out."
They walked into the apparatus room.
"I think we'd better call headquarters," McConnikee announced. "Chief Janlan should know about this."
"Janlan? Why him? He's the whole reason Mike's in this situation," Captain Stanley resisted heatedly.
"That's exactly why we need to talk to him," McConnikee replied. "Look, Hank, I don't know all the details, but I think Janlan's been trying to get inside 68's for some time. And now, I'm starting to think that Stoker's reassignment wasn't as circumstantial as it appeared."
"What do you mean, Chief?"
"Let's just call Chief Janlan."

****

"Where is he?"
These were Chief Janlan's first words upon entering Station 51. No greetings, no false attempt at courtesy.
"He's in the dorm. He's still sleeping," Captain Stanley replied, trying not to let too much of his hostility towards Janlan show in his manner.
"Let's go into your office, Captain Stanley."
Captain Stanley led the two chiefs into his office.
Janlan closed the door.
"Tell me exactly what happened."
"Mike showed up here at about three o'clock this morning. He'd taken a taxi from a 7-11 near 68's. He, uh, he was pretty beat up. When I asked him who had done it and why, he told me he'd gotten into a fight with his crewmates over religious differences. I pushed him a little harder, and he told me that he had been watching them doing some kind of ritual behind the station; they caught him and beat him up."
"What else did he tell you?"
"He said they're devil worshippers, that one of them actually told him that. He also said there are other strange things going on in that station, but he wouldn't elaborate," Captain Stanley replied.
"What else?"
"Nothing else." Captain Stanley's voice was disrespectful, but Janlan did not even notice.
"Are you sure he didn't mention anything else? Anything at all?"
"I'm sure," Stanley replied.
"Tell him about Moore's visit," McConnikee prompted.
"Moore? Captain Moore?" Janlan asked.
Captain Stanley nodded. "He came by this morning. He thought Mike might be here, and he wanted to see him. I refused. He tried to blame the whole thing on Mike, saying that Mike is a troublemaker who thinks he's too good for 68's. He charged him with leaving the station prior to shift change. And he said if he doesn't hear from him by the start of the next shift, he's going to process him for separation."
"Yes, well, don't worry about that. That won't happen," Janlan replied. "Did he say anything else? Anything about these rituals?"
"No, and I didn't ask him."
Janlan sat in complete stillness for a moment, then he stood up. "I need to talk to Stoker."
"He's very sick," Captain Stanley protested. "We had to take him to the hospital. He's got pneumonia. He took a painkiller, and now he's sleeping."
"Then we'll have to wake him."
"Can't this wait until later?" Captain Stanley asked. "He's been through a lot, and he's exhausted. He needs to sleep."
Chief Janlan looked from Captain Stanley to Chief McConnikee. Clearly, the latter two were of the same mind. They wanted Stoker to be left in peace. Janlan reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
"Take a look at this."
Chief McConnikee took it and held it where he and Captain Stanley could read it together.

Something evil is happening at Station 68. Please
investigate before another victim is sacrificed.

The note was typewritten and without a signature.
"We received that at headquarters back in April. Two weeks later, one of 68's crewmen died. Edwin Hernandez. He fell out of a sixth story window during a high-rise fire. Just . . . fell.   Lost his footing and fell through a window. He'd been a fireman for four years. He'd been at 68's for just over two months," Janlan explained.
"You think Hernandez wrote this letter?" McConnikee asked.
"I think it's a strong possibility."
"Then you also think that Hernandez's death wasn't an accident." McConnikee pursued the logical course of deduction.
"Also a strong possibility." Janlan took back the note and folded it into his pocket. "I've been trying to get inside 68's ever since this note arrived. Trying to make sense of what it means. The rest of headquarters has more or less forgotten about the whole thing. But I haven't. I was given this note and told to investigate this case back in April. Even after Hernandez's death, I wasn't able to make any headway. They closed the case in September, saying it must have been a hoax. But for me, it's never been closed.
"Before another victim is sacrificed. That line has tormented me since day one.
Who are these victims? Where and when are they being sacrificed? And how? Moore and his men are close-lipped and meticulous. They don't leave any hints. I was beginning to think it was a lost cause. And then Mike Stoker came along, unquestionable integrity, honest, decent . . . and in desperate circumstances. He'd do anything to stay in the department. He'd endure anything. But he'd never let wrongdoings go unreported. All we had to do was put him in there, keep him ignorant of our intentions, and eventually his own sense of integrity would bring him to our doorstep." He paused and an excited glint showed in his eye. "And now, that very thing has happened.   Mike Stoker is in the next room . . . he's witnessed some kind of ritual at the station. This is the beginning of the end! He's got information that could help me put away those bastards."
"You used him." Captain Stanley took a step towards Janlan. "You put him in that place, put his back up against the wall, just so you could get a peek inside?!"
Chief McConnikee put a hand on Captain Stanley's arm. "Hank, calm down-"
"I did him a favor," Janlan replied. "You know it was my initial inclination to put him out of the department altogether.   But Captain Junkers saw that he could still serve the department in a useful capacity-"
"And what then? What happens now that he's served his useful purpose?!" Captain Stanley demanded. "How are you going to reward him for being your pawn in a game he didn't even know he was playing?!"
Chief Janlan stared at Captain Stanley. "That's not my foremost concern right now."
"Well, it's mine," came the heated reply. "Because Mike Stoker may not mean a damned thing to you, but he means something to me - and to the rest of those men sitting in the next room!"
"I have no doubt of that," Janlan replied. "But it has little bearing right now."
Captain Stanley was on the verge of another protest, but Chief McConnikee reined him in with a firm grip and an understanding nod.
They went to see Stoker.

****

Mike grumbled something against the voice and now the hands that were trying to pull him away from the first decent sleep he'd had in months. At last, he realized it was Captain Stanley whose insistence he was dealing with, and so he opened his eyes, though still grudgingly.
But when he saw Chiefs McConnikee and Janlan, he stifled the protests he had been prepared to utter. Instead, he sat up quickly, his gaze going from one man to the next.
Captain Stanley could see the expression on Stoker's face. He looked like a trapped animal, both angry and frightened. Captain Stanley almost began to regret his decision, until he reminded himself that the very expression he now faced was very likely the same that Moore and his crewmates had looked upon each time they had harassed Stoker. This thought overrode any feelings of guilt Captain Stanley was harboring.
"Chief Janlan wants to talk to you, Mike."
"Cap-what's going on?"
It was Chief Janlan who answered. "Captain Stanley told us what happened."
Mike turned his wide-eyed expression of accusation to rest on his former captain.
Captain Stanley maintained his countenance. He knew what he had done was right.
"How do you feel?" Janlan went on.
Mike pulled himself back to Janlan, as if leaving a reverie. "What?"
"How do you feel?"
Stoker scowled. "I feel rotten. I'm tired and I'd like to go back to sleep."
"In a minute," Janlan replied. "Listen, Mike, I'd like you to tell me what you saw at 68's. I'd like to hear about everything you've noticed that's unusual over the last eight months."
"Why?" Mike asked.
Janlan drew back for an instant, not knowing what to say. At last, he replied, "Because I think you might have information that will help me in my investigation."
"You're investigating 68's?"
"I was, up until a couple months ago. But I hadn't been able to come up with any concrete evidence, so the case was closed. But my interest never waned. When I heard that you'd witnessed something, it rejuvenated my hope," Janlan replied.
Mike never took his eyes from Janlan's. "I can't tell you anything."
"Of course, you can!" Janlan insisted. "You're the only one who can tell us what we need to know!"
"No." Mike was adamant.   "This whole thing will end up being twisted around to be my fault, and I'll be fired-"
"I won't let that happen," Chief Janlan said assuredly. "I give you my word that won't happen." A pause. "I've been trying to get some hard facts on the activities inside that station for ten months now. You know they're up to no good in that place, Stoker. You know there's something bad going on." He took out the anonymous letter and handed it to him. "And you have the power to help me end it."
Mike read the note.
His lips parted slightly, allowing a small sound of horror and realization to escape.
"What is it?" Chief McConnikee asked.
"Sacrifices." Mike choked on the word.
"What? Do you know what that means?" Janlan asked with such excitement he could not contain himself. "You've seen something, haven't you?! What have you seen? Tell me!"
"I-I don't know," Mike replied. "I don't know if . . . if . . . ''   He looked pained, confused. "There have been some questionable deaths at some of the rescues," he finally managed. "People have been left for dead who were still alive. Deaths caused by my crewmates' own negligence." He was clearly steeling himself for what was coming next. "And last night, I think . . . they drowned a victim."
"What do you mean?"
"A car had gone into the Wehrmann viaduct. The driver was a woman, and when I saw her the first time, she was still upright in the seat, unconscious. I went up to the engine to secure a line, and when I came back, she was lying with her head in the water." He added quickly, "It doesn't mean they killed her-she may have already been dead, and they were just trying to get her out . . . ''
"What else can you tell us? What about these rituals?" Janlan's pursuit was relentless.
"I can't really figure it out," Mike replied. "I know they worship the devil. McCullough told me himself-"
"McCullough? He's their engineer, right?"
Mike nodded.
"Why did he tell you that?"
"I don't know. I think he was trying to protect me, to make sure I didn't stick my nose any place it didn't belong." Mike swallowed. "I should have listened to him."
"Go on."
"Well, they . . . they hold the rituals in the basement of one of the old buildings behind the station. They chant, and I'm pretty sure it's Latin." He explained the things he had seen and heard, concluding with, "I never did figure out what it all meant."
"Male or female. Two numbers. Sounds like they're determining the gender and age of the victim who's slated to be their next sacrifice," McConnikee suggested.
"But two numbers?"
"An age range?"
"But then what about night and clear?"
"Whether the sacrifice is to be made during the day or night?"
Three sets of anxious eyes turned towards Stoker.
Mike shrank somewhat under their combined stares. "I don't know," he replied. "I spent most of my time trying to stay out of their way. I just wanted to make it work."
Chief Janlan stood up and paced, rubbed his chin, looked out the window. "They know you're here. How damaging is that?" He was speaking more to himself than to anyone else.
Mike's stark gaze went once more to Captain Stanley. "How-how do they know I'm here?"
"Captain Moore was here earlier this morning when you were asleep, Mike," Captain Stanley replied. "I told him you were here, but I refused to let him see you."
"What did you tell him?" Mike demanded. "You didn't tell him all that I told you, did you? You didn't tell him what I knew about the rituals, did you?!"
"I told him that you said you'd had a fight with your crewmates while he watched," Captain Stanley replied evenly. "I didn't tell him anything else."
"My God, Cap . . . if he thinks I told you, that's it for me, I'll be fired for sure-"
"Mike, you're talking like you plan on going back there," Captain Stanley charged.
It was Chief Janlan who replied. "He is going back. He has to go back. There's no two ways about it."
That was when the last shred of Captain Stanley's composure went up in flames.
"He's not going back!" His voice was nearly a shout. "How can you even think of sending him back there after what they did to him?! Don't you have eyes? Can't you see what they did?! Look at him, for God's sake!"
"He is our only chance of getting back inside that station and getting hard evidence of what's going on!" Janlan shot back. "Moore doesn't know what Stoker's told us. As far as he's concerned, the only one who knows anything is you, Captain Stanley, and all you know is that he had a fight with his crewmates!"
"If Mike goes back there, he'll wind up just like Hernandez-"
"I don't think so," Janlan disagreed. "They'll figure Stoker is back because he has no choice. He either goes back to face the music and play along with them, or his career is over."
"What if he goes back and they kick him out anyway?"
"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. Either way, Stoker ends up back at 68's. He can get us the proof we need to put the ax to those boys. Listen, it's the fire department's job to save lives. If Moore and his men are letting victims die in order to fulfill some sacrificial levy, then we have to do everything we can to stop it!"
Captain Stanley shook his head. "No, no, you can't let this happen." He turned desperately to Chief McConnikee. "Chief, this isn't right! He's using Mike to get what he wants, and putting him in a dangerous position to do it!"
Chief McConnikee held up his hands. "I don't see that arguing is going to get us anywhere . . . especially when it seems that this entire thing is in the hands of one man." He looked to Mike, sitting bewildered in the bed. "Stoker, this is your decision."
Mike did not answer right away. Everything he had ever known about being a good, honest man was disintegrating around him faster than he could sweep up the debris. The pillars upon which he had come to rely and depend had suddenly turned against him, showing faces that he had never known they possessed.
He knew only one thing. He had sworn himself to saving lives, even if it meant risking his own. This, then, was the one thing he could hold onto in the midst of all the chaos. He saved lives.
"I'll go back," he said in a listless voice.
"Mike, no!" Captain Stanley protested.
"Hank." Chief McConnikee silenced him with a look and a word.
"It's my decision," Mike said. "I'll go back."
"Good man," Janlan nodded in satisfaction. "And now I think you've earned that sleep we interrupted. I think you're on convalescent leave for a few weeks? I'll contact you in a few days to give you more information. In the meantime, you'd better call Captain Moore and let him know you're coming back." He headed for the apparatus room.
Chief McConnikee and Captain Stanley followed. At the door, Chief Janlan turned. "He made the right decision."
They watched Janlan leave.
"I swear, Chief, if anything happens to Mike, Janlan's going to wish he'd never heard of 68's," Captain Stanley snarled.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Hank," McConnikee replied. "It's never a good idea to threaten your superiors." He paused. "And I agree with you one hundred percent." He gave Captain Stanley a pat on the back. "You're not alone in this. I'm going to see what I can do."
"Thanks, Chief." Captain Stanley watched him leave, then he turned and headed back into the dormitory.
He was shocked to find Stoker on his feet, half dressed, and finishing the job.
"Mike, what are you doing?"
"I'm going to my apartment," came the cold reply.
"Why?"
Mike stopped what he was doing long enough to face Captain Stanley. "I asked you not to tell anyone."
Now, Captain Stanley understood. "I know," he replied. "But I couldn't do that, Mike. Not in good conscience."
Stoker turned away and picked up his gym bag from beside the bed. "I came here because I trusted you - all of you. I've always been able to trust you. But now, I don't know who to trust anymore."
"Mike, stop," Captain Stanley reached out and took hold of the bag. "You're not well enough to go anywhere, and you're not thinking straight."
"I'll be fine, and I am thinking straight. I'm just angry right now. I want to get out of here," Mike replied. He took a few steps.
"Okay, Mike-you said you came here because you trusted me. What did you trust me to do, then? Did you think I'd just patch you up and send you back to that place? Did you trust me look at you and all those bruises and listen to the things you told me, and just shrug my shoulders and say, 'sorry Mike, it's your problem'? You can't come here and expect me to look the other way," Captain Stanley told him.
Mike gave him a hard stare. "I didn't come here looking for help, Cap.   I can handle this on my own." He pushed past and went into the apparatus room.
Captain Stanley followed him. "Then why did you come here?"
"I don't even know anymore," Mike replied, opening the door and going out into the street.
Captain Stanley grabbed his arm. "I'll tell you why: because you knew we'd take care of you! You knew we'd protect you! And we did. But now, you want to say that we have no right to stop you when we see you're about to make a mistake?!" He noticed the rest of the crew had gathered at the door, drawn by the sound of the commotion. He lowered his voice. "Don't you see what Janlan's going to do, Mike? He's going to get you to gather all his proof, and then when he's finished with you, he's going to cut you lose! And those guys back at 68's-they're not going to trust you, they're not going to do anything to implicate themselves if you go back there!   This whole thing is wrong!"
Mike glowered at him. "Then it will be just one more mistake I've made." He pulled away and headed down the street towards the bus stop.
Captain Stanley watched him go. He did not move until Stoker was out of sight, then he turned and walked back into the station, where the others were waiting.
"What happened, Cap?" Chet asked immediately.
"He's going back," Captain Stanley replied, walking past them towards his office.
"Going back? Are you-he's going back? Right now?" This was from Johnny.
"No, he's going home right now," came the surly response.
"Why? Cap, what happened?!" Roy persisted.
"He didn't want to stay here anymore," Captain Stanley replied. "He's angry at me for informing headquarters. I tried to convince him to stay, but he was too angry."
"But he's-he's not really going back to 68's, is he?" Marco asked.
"Yes, he is. Chief Janlan convinced him to go back."
"What?! Cap, that's crazy!" Johnny blurted out.
Captain Stanley gave a curt nod. "It is crazy. But Mike's made up his mind. I'm just hoping that after he has a chance to think about it, he'll realize what a mistake he's making."
"We'd better talk to him-" Johnny began.
"I don't think it'll do any good," Captain Stanley frowned. "It'll probably only upset him even more. He thinks we're interfering."
"Interfering? He's the one who came to us," Chet said in puzzlement.
"I know that. Mike knows it, too; but he's confused. He needs to figure it out for himself. He's got a few weeks to mull it over while he's convalescing." He paused and drew a deep breath. "I'd like to be left alone for a while, guys."
There was a moment of painful silence.
"Sure, Cap," Roy finally said.
He hadn't even finished the words before Captain Stanley had shut the door.

continue