About Rescue

by Sean Michael
9 pages / 3100 words
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc

Fireman Dixon thinks he's seen the kid who just showed up at his favorite after work bar. Once he gets a good look, Dix realizes he has seen Rob, at the fire he just put out that morning.

Rob is reeling from losing everything, but what he wants most of all is to prove he's still alive. He thinks Dix might just be the guy to help him with his over-abundance of adrenaline. Will these two start a fire of their own?

Sample

"Take it easy, Dix-baby! See you Wednesday!"

He nodded, growled a little as the door shut behind him, cutting Casey's shrill fucking voice off with a click. Kid was nice enough, but damn, the fucking alarms went off and the smoke started and the boy was a friggin' hyperactive nutcase. A good fireman and one hell of a firehouse cook, but a nutcase, none the less.

Monday afternoon was looking pretty good -- warm and windy, hint of rain in the air, just enough to keep the city streets damp and the grass dewy.

Dewy.

Fucking shit, he was getting poetic. Time for a brewski and something breaded and deep fried and then home for a jerk and a snooze, just your typical end of shift activities.

His hair was still damp from his post-call shower, the scent of smoke and soot replaced with soap. Mostly. Dixon headed down the quiet street and over two blocks to the Chugging Monkey, nodding to Sebastian as he entered the local pub and eatery. How long had he been coming here at the end of his shift? For fucking ever, and he liked it like that.

"Beer and burger, Dix?" Sebastian’s voice was this deep bass note that always made folks do a double take. The man was tall, but not deep enough in the chest for a voice like that.

"Chicken strips and fuck, yes. How's it hanging, man?"

"Low and easy, just like always." The dark haired bartender gave him a grin and a wink. The man was the biggest slut in the city, but a good friend, willing to suck a needy guy off under the bar after hours, front you a beer when you were short. A good guy.

Dixon settled at the bar, the stool familiar beneath his ass. He nodded as Sebastian switched the little television to ESPN for him, pouring him a draft of the dark local brew.

Light came in off the street as the door opened and a young guy with short dark hair and blue eyes came in and sat at the bar a few stools down. He was clean enough, but his clothes were obviously large for him: the jeans looked at least a size too big, held up with a belt done up tight and the loose t-shirt only hinted at what might be a decent body. There was something familiar about the kid, who asked Sebastian for a whiskey with a beer chaser and sat there, fingers drumming on the bar, leg bouncing.

Dix couldn't quite put his finger on it, not that it mattered. Hell, with all the 'community-building' the new fucking politician that called himself fire marshal had them doing, he could have seen the boy anywhere from the library to the grocery store to city hall with its floor to ceiling windows.

Sebastian put the glasses in front of the kid, taking the twenty that was passed over and handing back change. Not even waiting to pocket his change, the kid shot back the whiskey and proceeded to cough up a lung over it.

The cough was what tripped Dix’s memory. The early morning fire at a little, old townhouse. An electrical short in the wiring and too many computer components and poof. Everything was gone. Everything. Poor kid.

"Did you get checked out for smoke, kid? Stuff'll kill you."