Flip

Flip Part 8

Philip quietly stood under the warm water with his arms outstretched, supporting him against the tiles. He didn't trust his shaking legs to hold him this morning. He'd spent what was left of the night silently staring at the pattern the plaster in his ceiling sprayed across over his head. When his mom had called him to make sure he was awake, he'd rolled off of his bed only to find his fears avalanche with renewed vigor as his legs slowly collapsed under the mental strain. Taking a few deep breaths, he'd finally shaken loose and unsteadily risen to make his way to the shower, leaving a trail of forgotten clothes behind him.

The only family he had left in the world was dying. His dad and uncles hadn't been part of his life for years after he'd refused to have anything to do with the bastards. Thankfully his dad hadn't even bothered to challenge Philip's decision, so he figured the feelings were mutual and had been happy for it.

"Philip?" Mrs. Nevins rapped on the bathroom door, noticing the sudden stop in the flow of water. "I'm going to take you to school this morning. I'll be ready in about ten minutes."

"OK," Philip responded as he blindly reached for a towel and ran it through his bright red hair. He was glad to find more mundane thoughts fight their way to the fore while he regarded himself in the mirror. He'd need to get a haircut. He usually kept it very short, but it had grown out to the point it had started to curl on its own, making his tired features those of a little boy and not someone of his barely sixteen years.

"Mom?" Philip's eyes grew wide as his numbed mind started to work again, not getting an answer. Why was she offering to drive him to school this morning? He needed to drive! He quickly stumbled back into his room and rummaged through his clothes, finally settling on some nondescript jeans and blank red T-shirt he could pull on without thought.

"Mom?" Philip walked into the kitchen to grab a quick swig out of the milk carton as his mother looked on with a barely concealed amused grimace. His mom hated it when he did that but had given up trying to correct his habit. He was the one who usually drank it all anyway, so she'd figured it saved on having dirty glasses to clean. "Should you?...I mean...Why do you want to drive to school today?"

"Of course I can drive!" Mrs. Nevins smiled at him and squeezed his neck reassuringly. "I decided I want to take you this morning because you can't stand up straight right now....and I want to talk to your principal and counselors." She stifled her first inclination to start giggling when she saw the `oh lord, what did I do now?' look of worry cross her son's face. "Don't worry. You haven't done anything. It's just that you're going to be on your own a lot, while I'm in and out of the hospital. So I need to set my spies on you."

"Mom?" Philip's hoarse voice cracked again as his chin and lip wrinkled with the attempt to forestall another emotional outburst. "I would never do anything to hurt you. I...I...love you...."

"Oh, Philip." She reached up to gently grasp his head in her hands, wiping the renewed moisture from his cheeks with her thumbs. "I know that. I'll always love you, no matter what happens, but I need to know that you're going to be OK...OK?"

"OK." Philip smiled through his emotions and turned to wipe his face. "I'll be ready in a minute...I just need to call Marty and tell him I can't pick him up today."

"You will do nothing of the sort!" She turned her son back and gave him a gentle shove out the door. "I'll take both of you! Last I looked, I had enough empty seats." She smiled and let her eyes gaze upward as she silently followed, just mouthing the words, `God bless you, Michael.'

Marty finished pushing his pants leg over the end of the false leg. He continued to push the jeans lower until they were gathered around the foot he'd never feel again. He quickly inserted his remaining leg into the socket and attached the damp nylon strap he wore around his narrow waist, then followed with his `whole' leg into the other leg of his jeans.

His prosthetics guy had told him his final piece wouldn't need the strap any longer and would be cosmetically more like his natural leg, but he found it irrelevant at that moment. Every morning, he'd be reminded of his limitations. Hell! He couldn't even shower standing up any more, he'd always need that stupid plastic stool in the shower that his brother smirked at.

He grimaced as he pulled his bruised arms through his shirt and settled it over his upper body to hide the damage. His mom and dad had suspected he was different' but had been willing to overlook his lack of girlfriends when he'd been able to make them proud up on the diving platform. They may have seen him as a mistake' but were still proud of their queer but talented little boy.

Now, with his mom and sister dead because of him, and his leg gone, he was just damaged goods, trash in the eyes of his remaining family. Even his grandparents had turned away, unable to look at him.

Marty quietly shook his head as he finished dressing and reached for his crutches. He remembered sitting on his dad's bed the previous week, revolver in his shaking hands as he tried to decide whether to use it or not. His dad's arrival back home had stopped him that time as he'd struggled to place it back under the mattress. If his dad had found the gun's change of position odd, he'd said and done nothing.

Marty knew then, when he wasn't beaten for messing with the weapon, that his father couldn't stand the embarrassment of his son behind bars but was willing to accept his death. Hell, he probably even hoped for it! It would lower his insurance rate once the trash had been taken out! No tears came with his disturbing thoughts. His time for tears was over.

Quietly trying to ignore his still grumbling stomach, Marty hobbled though the dark hallway, unsure of his reception that morning. "Dad?"

"Cereal's on the table." Marty let out the breath he'd been holding when his father answered calmly, never moving his eyes from the newspaper he'd been reading. "Don't use all the milk. I'm not going to the store today."

"Yes, sir." Marty quickly poured his breakfast into a bowl and quietly began to shovel as fast as he could before his dad could change his mind. Thankfully, his dad and brother ignored his existence altogether and he soon finished, struggling to place the empty bowl in the sink while he balanced precariously on his crutches.

"Next time you're late...call me." Marty's dad glanced up to bore holes through his oldest son. "It's bad enough I'm going to miss another day's work on Friday so you can get your new leg."

"Yes, sir....Dad?" Marty gulped back his trepidation. "After I'm done...." he hesitated under the withering gaze he received. "After my appointment...I...I...thought I could help you at the job site...like...like...like I used to?"

"And do what?" Mr. Miller scowled quietly back where his son shifted, trying to back up. "I'll need a hundred percent to catch up, not half a boy. You'd just get in the way."

"But...." Marty felt himself reeling from the mental blow. He had to figure out a way to get his dad to love him again.

"But nothing!" Mr. Miller flushed at his son again. His little girl should have been the one to live and not this little fag his dead wife had made. She'd coddled the little shit, let him act any way he'd wanted. He'd been willing to reluctantly go along with it while the boy could at least hold up his end of the work and bring good recognition to the family, but now?

He'd had to spend an awful amount of money to keep the family name out of prison and gotten nothing but a cripple in return. He had no use for half a son. No, not even half a son, he grimaced again. As far as he was concerned, he had a crippled boy who wanted to be a girl for a son. Marty was useless at everything now, he couldn't even figure out how to find a girl, much less fuck one. "You're useless to me. Now get out of here. Maybe you'll find something you can still do at school."

Philip stood, nervously shifting from foot to foot as he waited by the front door to Marty's house. He dried his hands again when he saw the shadow cross the curtained window set in the door just before it opened.

"Mr. Miller?" He extended his hand and smiled at the large man confronting him. He felt his stomach lurch with the hard look that passed across the man's face but was relieved to see it quickly replaced by a friendly expression. "My name is Philip Nevins. Is Marty here? I'm here to pick him up for school."

"He'll be right out." Mr. Miller smiled at the youth standing before him. He wasn't happy that his son had failed to tell him about this, but then...it really didn't matter to him one way or the other. He eyed the boy suspiciously. "So tell me....Philip?...How do you know Gabriel?"

"I was one of the firefighters that pulled Mart...I mean Gabriel out of the wreck." Philip pulled his eyes away from Marty's dad. The man was making him sweat under his sharp probing gaze he was projecting now. Philip felt himself flush uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "I...I'm sorry we couldn't do more."

"So am I." Mr. Miller fought back the wave of bitterness that rose within him. This boy wasn't responsible for the wreck or the final outcome. "I'm sorry. I know you did everything you could."

Mr. Miller quietly stood aside then to let his son limp past. This Nevins boy seemed to be OK. He obviously wasn't a fag, firefighters weren't queers. He'd have to warn Philip about his son soon though, just like he'd told all of Gabriel's friends at his old school.

Three or four still called and tried to talk to his son or leave messages, but he figured it wasn't his job to pass messages between a bunch of faggots, and anyone who still wanted to be friends with his son had to be a fag as well.

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Miller." Philip let his polite smile linger through the discomfort he felt. "I'll be busy after school, but if it's OK with you, I'll drop Marty off by five?"

"That's fine," Mr. Miller continued his own penetrating smile as he regarded the stranger at his door, "...but I think you need to know something about Gabriel, Marty as you call him." He let his carefully crafted demeanor slip a little. "You need to be careful around him. The boy's not right...Fact is, he's queerer than a three dicked mule."

"Yes, sir?" Philip rocked back as he felt himself start to sweat as the revelation hit him like a bolt out of nowhere. What the hell was going on here? He left his questions on his lips. Why did Marty's dad just say that and how could he respond to it? It was bad enough his former associates were ready to tell the world about him! What did this man expect him to do with this information and why would he do that to his son?

His thoughts raced back to his mom sitting in the car behind him. He'd promised he'd never hurt her and she would hurt enough without his adding to it. What did this man want him to say and would it get back to her? He quickly chose his words carefully, "I don't mind, sir. Marty is a friend now, but I'll be careful."

"All right," Marty's dad reflected at the unexpected response from the new kid in his oldest's life. He'd wait for a while. He could always stop their contacts later. "Good to have met you as well. My son's lucky to have found a new friend so soon."

"Thank you, sir." Philip quickly moved away from the strange man and his unsettling manner. He suddenly wanted to be as far away from there as he could. "I'm just glad I could help."

Marty watched the exchange from the side of Philip's mom's car. He quietly let his weight sag onto his crutches when he saw the glances and expressions thrown his way by his father. Seeing Philip's body suddenly tense, he knew then that he was alone again. His old friends didn't want anything to do with him any more and now this new friend wouldn't either.

He'd tried to drive Philip away by calling himself a `white trash little faggot' but now it was being confirmed by his own dad! He steeled himself for the certain rejection he was going to receive as he moved away from the car and turned for the bus stop, his physical pain all but forgotten.

He had nothing left, nothing to bring to a friendship but more problems. He stopped and glanced up into the lightening gray sky, wishing for the rain to come and the sky to clear. He wanted to see the morning sun one last time before he reached for the revolver again, but that wouldn't happen either. It was time to take out the trash.

"Marty? Where you going?" Philip smiled in relief to be back at the car but was confused, looking at Marty's retreating back as he opened the back door for his new friend. "Don't want to be late."

"Huh?" Marty turned back to face Philip. He was jolted when his love of puns surged into his mind through his despairing thoughts. That's what I'll be...,' he couldn't help thinking, ...the late Gabriel Martin Miller!'

Marty's mind seemed to fog over with the realization that Philip hadn't just left like he'd thought he would. "But what my dad said...."

"Doesn't mean shit!" Philip renewed his smile to put his friend at ease as he furtively glanced into the car at his patient mother. He felt he needed to tell Marty about himself, but not now, not with his mom right there. Hell, if Jeff and the others carried through with their threats, Marty would know soon enough without his having to say anything. "I don't care. Now get in before we get wet."

"Yes, master!" Marty felt the beginnings of a grin as his eyes welled slightly with the tears he didn't think existed anymore. His sense of humor had been his refuge through the terrible downward spiral his short life had taken. If he didn't laugh, he'd never have survived as long as he had, he'd have used the gun by now!

"OK, smartass!" Philip shrugged as he held his associate's crutches while Marty settled himself in the back seat. "That's enough of that shit."

"Philip Nevins!" Philip blushed as he heard his mom's voice cut through the stillness, "That's enough of that from you too! At least wait until I'm out of earshot!"

"Glad to finally meet you, Marty." She turned farther around to present her hand to the grimacing boy behind her. "Are you all right this morning?" She watched the boy settle himself and return her handshake. She couldn't help but be drawn by his large deep black eyes. There seemed to be so much hidden behind their pained yet piercing gaze.

"Thank you." Marty quickly shifted his gaze away from the woman to linger on the back of Philip's head. "I'm OK. It's just my leg," he lied as he pulled his invisible mask down to hide his thought.

"So tell me, Marty...," she glanced quickly into the rearview mirror as she pulled out and guided them all through the twisting roads, "...you think you can teach my rock of a son how to swim?"

She couldn't help but chuckle as she squeezed her son's hand reassuringly. They'd discussed this last night when she'd insisted he take the time that Saturday to be with his new and only local friend she knew about. She was scheduled for surgery that Thursday but had insisted she didn't want to see him Saturday at all. He'd spend enough time with her in hospitals soon enough.

"Well, maybe I can teach him to float." Marty's renewed grin became genuine as he remembered their plans for Saturday. He found the thought of the quietly beckoning revolver fast receding into the back of his mind. Philip's reaction to his dad's attempt at sabotage lent him hope. He was hoping his dad had failed and that Philip would continue to be his friend, even after his mom had left. Hell! They'd somehow managed to put up with each other so far. "But then you'll have to change his name!"

"Change his name?" Mrs. Nevins noticed the sudden mirth that appeared in Marty's eyes and voice while her son cringed silently next to her.

"Yeah!" Marty almost laughed at Philip's reaction to what he thought was coming as his sense of humor blossomed to his internal defense again. "If I teach him to float at least...We can't call him Flip. We'll have to call him Bob!"

Mrs. Nevins couldn't help but laugh as she reached over to tweak her red son's cheek. She knew she'd grow to love having Marty around her overly serious, loner son. His teenaged sense of humor was what she'd hoped for Philip, what she'd looked forward to having around the house instead of only from her `clients' at the gym where she coached.

After her news last night, Philip would need the companionship more than ever. She'd received pledges of support from her friends and co-workers already. Her son was the one she was worried about now and she was so glad to see Marty beginning to fill that hole of friendship in Philip's life. Marty's dad was lucky to have such a child in his home,' she thought as she parked the car in the front visitors' lot. `He must love his oldest son very much. How could anyone not love him?'

Philip sat quietly, shaking with rage and fear for his mom as he waited for everybody else to arrive for the rehearsal that afternoon. Everything had been normal for him that day and he'd been able to avoid any contact with Jeff and Peter and the rest of that group until he'd had to use the restroom after the last bell of the day.

He'd just managed to finish zipping back up when Peter had shoved him against the wall and Jeff had demanded his response to their ultimatum that he resign from the fire department. They hadn't been pleased when he said nothing to them. Then Jamie had come in!

"Hey! I saw the fag's mom drop him and that new crippled kid off today. Then she went to the office!" Philip could still feel his words echoing through his heart like a knife.

"So your mommy dropped you off?" Jeff had sneered at him. "What? Can't fight your own battles any more?" Philip was able to let that slide across his shoulders and didn't flinch at the taunts.

"At least I know who my mother is!" Philip had finally responded as the hair on his neck rose with his temper. He'd started to push his way back through the three to get to the door when Jamie had spoken again.

"I wonder if she'd still try to protect her little boy if she knew he wanted to get screwed by other boys?" Jamie's cutting voice had dripped with venom. "Is that what you'd like us to do to you? ...Huh? ...Is it, fag?"

All Philip's attempts at self control had evaporated in an instant and he'd struck hard, his legs putting all his weight into his tightly clenched hand and arm as they struck his larger opponent in the middle and sent him flying to land at Peter's feet.

"Go ahead and tell who you want!" Philip had coldly spoken as he'd squared himself for the next attack that never came. "You will anyway, no matter what I do."

He'd had to stop for a moment to wipe his eyes clear of the fury-induced tears that had formed. "But if any of you ever hurt my mom or try to fuck with Marty...I'll hunt you down and only one of us will be able to get up afterward!" He'd then let his burning eyes travel from one boy to the next, finally settling on Jamie as the other had gasped for breath on the floor.

He'd then slowly backed out the door while Peter finally advanced on him, having come to a decision. Philip had thought his heart would stop when he backed into someone behind him in the hallway and had turned to find Mr. Alexander staring at the boys intently.

The assistant principal had merely excused the others with a glance and pulled Philip aside, saying he was sorry to hear about his mom's illness and offering help, before he let Philip go.

Philip didn't know what to think about the principal's presence. If he'd heard just the end of the confrontation, he didn't say anything and let Philip get away with it, but if he'd heard the whole thing, he didn't intervene either.

"Jesus Christ!" Marty exclaimed as he flopped down into the seat next to Philip's with an expectant look on his face.

"Huh?" Philip glanced back, his anger slowly draining away with the memories of the incident just minutes old.

"No!" Marty grinned back in mock frustration. "You're supposed to say `Yes?'. That is who you're playing, isn't it?"

"Oh....Yeah...OK." Philip stumbled through his confusion. He was going to have to start thinking faster to keep up with his friend. "I'm glad you stayed. I didn't know if you were taking the bus home."

"Naw." Marty's smile became forced as he wondered how much he could admit. "I don't really like being at home right now." He quickly turned away to stare at the floor, worried that he'd said too much already. "I want to apologize for how my dad was this morning. He's usually a good guy."

"I don't understand?" Philip stared back, trying to catch those black eyes he was falling in love with. "Why would he act that way, say those things?" He took a deep breath before he took the plunge, taking some small comfort in the thought that it would be all over the school tomorrow anyway. He held up his hand to stop Marty's answer, "Before you say anything, I've got to tell you something but you've got to promise not to say anything around my mom. She doesn't feel well and what I have to say would hurt her. She can't find out...."

"So tell me!" Marty ducked. He shouldn't have interrupted Philip's rambling. His new friend was obviously uncomfortable with his news. "I won't say anything."

"Well, OK." Philip stopped and glanced down at his own sweaty hands before he blurted out the rest. "I don't know if what your dad said about you being gay is true or not but you need to know...thatIam." He rushed through the end and sat still, desperately willing his pounding heart to slow. He cast a sidelong glance with trepidation and was relieved to see Marty hadn't made a grab for his crutches yet, though he was staring back with mouth agape. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, it's OK." Marty closed his mouth and reached out his hand to Philip's. "I'm just glad you didn't tell my dad...otherwise he'd never let us be around each other. He told all my old friends the same thing I think he told you and now I never hear from them any more."

"None of them?" Philip finally let his eyes move back to Marty's.

"Yeah...well, I tried call them..." Marty frowned at the memory, "...but my dad found out and pulled the phone out of my room so I can't call any more without his permission." He left off that his dad never gave his permission, but the look on Philip's face told him he didn't have to. Philip was beginning to understand.

"But why?" Philip couldn't believe what he was hearing as the unease he felt that morning roared back. "Is what he said true?" Philip instantly regretted his question when he saw Marty's reaction to it.

"Yeah, I'm his white trash little faggot son!" Marty grimaced as if he'd been stabbed as he ducked his head again. "All I ever thought about was my friends and teammates. Never thought about wanting to go with a girl but I've never been `in love' with anyone yet either."

"Stop saying that!" Philip's anger built again at the hurtful words that had been so drummed into Marty, he'd parroted them unconsciously. "You are not trash! You're my friend! Don't you ever say that about yourself again!"

"Whatever," Marty sighed and glanced away.

"No!" Philip pitched his volume back down. He'd started to get loud, causing some of the other arriving players to stop and stare at them. "Don't give me that `whatever' shit! I said you're my friend. The only one I've got around here!...So just stop it."

"OK," Marty quietly replied; the morning's trials receded even more as he felt the fight in Philip's voice transfer itself into his own battered psyche. He fought back his emotions, they were too public for him to show his feelings easily. He realized then that he really didn't want to die. His earlier, seemingly vain, hope in Philip's friendship had gone beyond his wildest meager expectations. He straightened his thin shoulders a little more and squeezed his friend's hand in thanks. He didn't know what would happen at home eventually, maybe he'd still be able to get his father to be proud of him again. But whatever happened, he saw life beyond his fifteen and a half years again!

"Well, my friend..." Philip got up to join the others on stage to begin their rehearsal now that Mrs. M had arrived. Mr. Craig had been given the rest of the week off for his verbal attack on Philip the previous day. He was suddenly struck by the simple pleasure those two words gave him. He'd missed that pleasure more than he'd thought possible the last three years.

He smiled warmly at Marty's beaming face, ignoring Lash as she winked at him. She'd probably take all the credit for finally overcoming her `greatest challenge' but they wouldn't have to deal with that until his Saturday swim lesson. "Enjoy the almost show."

Philip collapsed onto his bed early, the lack of sleep starting to catch up to him. He and his mom had dropped off a much happier Marty and then he'd tried to help his mom pack her small bag for her time at MD Anderson Cancer Hospital. He wished she'd be at a hospital closer to home than the Houston Medical Center but he hoped the trade-off would be worth it....

He closed his eyes and willed them to stop throbbing from the previous effort to stay open for so long, and his body finally relaxed as his brain threw in the towel and drifted off in the still light from the late afternoon streaming through the closed drapes of his window. It was as if a curtain had suddenly come down on his past life. Tomorrow the next act would begin. Everything would change at home and school but there was no going back. The new day would come, ready or not. He only hoped he was ready....

"Philip?" His mom quietly peeked around the door before she entered and crossed to tuck his naked form under the sheet he'd been too tired to remember. She gently sat on the edge of the bed so as not to wake her son and simply ran her fingers though his soft red hair. She wiped the tears forming in her eyes as she regarded his peaceful countenance. The thought of fighting for her life against the cancer didn't frighten her nearly as much as the thought of being separated from the boy she'd brought into the world. If she eventually lost this fight, like the doctors had warned, he would be alone in the world.

Financially they were secure so far. Well, about as secure as she could hope, facing a long illness. She'd never told him that his dad still sent money for his college even though Philip had severed all his personal contact with him. His dad was obviously sorry for his earlier actions and hoped for an eventual reconciliation with his only child, but Philip wasn't ready to forgive yet. She sighed as she continued to stroke her son's head, the only response being the slight fluttering of his long eyelashes.

She wished the dreams he was having would be pleasant as she quietly rose and left him to his long delayed but needed sleep. She still had instructions and other resources to leave him. She hoped she'd remember everything she needed to tell him. She wouldn't be here when he got home from school tomorrow. He'd be alone at home for the first time when she wouldn't walk into the house after work.

She'd call Mike's parents tomorrow and had called the fire department's office today. Maybe with Mike to talk to, the support of the department, and Marty here to help, her boy wouldn't be facing the world alone after all.

"Bebebebebeep!" Philip jerked awake and blearily cocked his eyes at the offending pager staring back as its static filled the room, the clock next to it serenely reading just after two AM.

"Fuck!" Philip shoved his head back onto his pillow face first. He should have turned the damn thing off. All the other times the pager would just sit there quietly, but now that he'd finally gotten to get some sleep, the damn thing went off!

"Department Nine, engine ninety four, tanker ninety four. Assist department five with the three alarm apartment fire. 16345 Apache at the Pine Hill apartments...."

Philip's heart jumped, in its now familiar way, when the announcement was a `real' call, as he rolled off the bed, barely getting his feet on the floor before his bare ass. He scrambled upright and moved quickly to his dresser and stopped in confusion as he began looking through his socks, trying to find a pair that matched.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Philip whispered to himself in disbelief and, shaking his head to clear it, grabbed the first pair on top. Hell, they were all white even if the stripes didn't match. Grabbing his sneakers and a pair of coveralls his mom had bought for him while he was gone, he quickly made his way through the house and out the back door to his car. He stopped again and glanced down at his dick swinging around guiltily while he struggled into the clothes as quickly as possible, causing him to grimace once when the zipper caught his pubic hair suddenly.

He blushed at himself when he slipped behind the wheel to start for the station. He could only thank God it was still cool enough to wake him up enough to notice he'd stepped outside naked. He had no doubt that he'd been very close to driving to the station with nothing on but a frown. So much for his practice of sleeping nude. That would have to change too. Yep, from now on it would be underwear and socks on. All the time!

Philip pulled up in the station's lot and glanced nervously at the engine sitting on the ramp. Bill was behind the wheel as usual and Mary was in her normal seat up front next to him. What made him hesitate before getting out was the sight of Jeff and Peter sitting with Terry in the crew compartment.

For the brief drive to the station, he'd forgotten about the others he'd joined with and used to be friendly with. Now, as he cautiously exited the car to stand there looking for a moment, he didn't know if he'd still be welcome to stay and the thought was beginning to crush in on him harder than he'd have thought possible.

"Move your ass, boy!" Bill snarled in frustration. He always got that way, waiting for the other station members to arrive. Everybody had kidded him about it, stating it was his curse for living the closest to the station. "Dress in the truck! We got'a go!"

Shaken from his discomfort, Philip broke away into the building and, grabbing his personal gear, raced back to the open back door of the waiting engine. He threw his gear inside and stepped up into the crew area, careful to avoid the nonskid surface of the running boards with his sock clad feet. E-One called that stuff `Gator Grip' and he wasn't too anxious to feel the cut, raised treads on the bottom of his shoeless feet.

"Long time no see!" Terry yelled over the siren and engine noise as they pulled away with acceleration that felt like it belonged to a Ferrari, not a forty thousand pound truck. Thankfully, once they were on their way, Bill finished rolling his window up and it became quiet enough you didn't have to yell any more. "Where you been?"

"Out of town." Philip stole a glance at the older man next to him as he fed his feet into the thick rubber boots and stood slightly to pull the heavy pants up, slipping the red suspenders over his shoulders in the process. Next, he fished out his Kevlar hood and slipped it over his head and down around his neck. He'd pull it back into place after he got his airmask on. He found himself looking at Jeff and Pete while he struggled into the coat, careful not to jab Terry with his flying elbows. The other boys had said nothing since he'd arrived and seemed to be doing their best to uncomfortably ignore his existence.

"Take your time, Flip." Terry still loved rookie firefighters. Their unflinching eagerness always seemed to rejuvenate him as well. "We've got about ten minutes." He glanced over his shoulder at Mary up front. "Flip! You've seen fire...so she'll probably split these two virgins...," he jerked his gloved hand at the other two boys in the cab, "...between us. I'll take one, you the other. You want the big one or the not as big one?"

"Uh..." Philip forced his answering grin at Terry but could tell he wasn't hiding his concern very well by the change in the older man's expression. The prospect just proposed was one other thing he hadn't counted on. He shook his head slightly. If he was going to try to keep his vow to himself that he stay in the department, he'd have to work with everybody sometime. He just hadn't thought it would happen this fast, "...whatever! I'll just follow orders."

"Engine ninety four to Pine Hill command! Two minutes out. Requesting orders?" Philip's attention was drawn away from his thoughts by Mary's voice at the mic. They were rapidly approaching a tell-tale glow in the night sky.

"Engine ninety four, stage behind tanker fifty two. Report to water supply. Send your crew to staging at engine fifty one."

"Engine ninety four received." Mary quickly replaced the mic into its clip and turned to look back. Everybody was dressed and ready except for their masks. "Terry? You and Peter. I'll go with Flip and Jeff, unless I'm needed for something else."

Philip jerked his gaze away from Mary to land on Jeff's hate-filled eyes. He turned back silently. What could he say? He had his orders. If there was a problem, it would rest squarely with Jeff, not him.

When the engine pulled to a stop, he stared in wonder at the scene that unfolded as he exited the truck. The whole world seemed to be made up of red flashing lights trailing off in all directions. He pushed all his other thoughts to the back of his mind and followed Terry around to join the others as they made their way down the line of trucks, the airpack riding comfortably on his back for once. There was considerable relief in the job thoughts, allowing him to block out everything else. The looks Jeff and Peter cast his way were still disquieting but he found it easier to push them aside.

"What's wrong?" Terry glanced between the three youths. It was obvious to him that Flip was miles away from the others. "You having a lover's spat with those two?"

"Yeah," Philip answered. He felt himself grow uneasy again as Jeff and Peter cornered Mary for a moment. She glanced his way briefly, her eyebrows knit together as she scowled at the two boys confronting her. He forced his attention back to Terry and the unfolding scene behind him. "You could say that."

"Flip!" Mary barked as she approached him. "You're with Terry now. I'm gon'a be the third floor sector of that building." The one she indicated caused both firefighters to pause before leaving. It looked like half of it was still burning fiercely, as the heavy smoke with orange glows shooting through it would indicate. "Go relieve the crew that's there now! Jeff and Peter will be with me. Then they'll relieve you!"

"Showtime!" Terry was grinning as he and Philip made their way to the external stairs up the side of the apartment complex. "I'll back you up! Stay near the wall, the floor may be bad by now."

"OK," Philip mumbled as they finished the last of their preparations and quickly checked each other. They wouldn't go on the air they wore until the last moment just before they went inside. He was glad to let Terry back him up. The number two man on the hose would be the one looking for unexpected threats to them, something he couldn't really do yet. Terry would also have their radio.

Following the hose, on their hands and knees, through the open door into the absolute blackness inside made Philip sport an unseen, quirky little smile. If this kept up,' he thought as they advanced toward the now growing glow, I'll be a good monk. I'm already spending all my free time on my knees!'

They quickly found the previous crew inside and, tapping them on the shoulders, were able to switch with the exhausted pair. Philip reopened the nozzle and pushed back against the heavy pressure and, now visible, flames. He began a careful advance but soon was happy just to hold what they could. He could see where the fire from below had savagely torn the floor away in its attempt to escape through the charred and holed roof. Thankfully the holes above them had provided an escape for most of the heat as well, so he almost felt comfortable behind the barrier the water stream provided.

Finally, his stream of water, combined with the ones on the floors below them, began to tell against the beast they battled that night and the room they occupied became darker and darker as the flames surrendered to the inevitable. Half the building was gone but they had the satisfaction of knowing that everything behind where they'd made their stand would still be there with the dawn.

"OK, back up," Terry yelled through the mask when the floor jerked a little from another hard blast of water under them. What the fire hadn't destroyed was becoming waterlogged. "Our relief is coming! We're close to no air!"

"OK." Philip pulled back a little while he searched for any remaining visible flames. He stared incredulously at the suddenly sweeping flashlight beam coming from behind them and turned quickly to see the two figures slowly walking on the soft floor instead of following the hose line.

"Over here!" Terry yelled out, trying to get the fools away from the center of the floor as Philip felt the low pressure alarm start ringing and vibrating through his mask. Both their hearts jumped wildly when the barely audible crack was followed by the figure in front losing its footing as one leg broke through the floor, landing its owner face down on its side with a sickening thud.

Philip couldn't remember having thought at that point as he shut the nozzle down and he and Terry scrambled, on hands and knees, over to the fallen form of another firefighter. The fourth figure in the room had disappeared completely and for a moment Philip felt sick, thinking he'd completely fallen through to land on the crew below them.

Reaching the figure, he grabbed through the airpack straps and pulled as hard as he could back toward the wall that Terry remained in contact with. The other yelled once in pain when Terry was able to join in the effort and they started on their way out, following the trail marked by the inert hose line.

Philip didn't know how long it had taken to reach his victim but his mask was starting to collapse over his face with each breath he was taking. He'd never considered himself even remotely claustrophobic but he had to fight the urge to break and run with all his might. Terry's alarm had begun to thunder in his ears as well. He couldn't remember it having taken as long to get in as it was to get out. His brain issued multiple curses when he took another ragged breath, only to have the mask collapse completely against his face. He knew he was out of air but thought he could just make out the dim glow from the lights of the fire trucks outside. He felt his chest burning with the pain of trying to hold his breath but finally had to exhale uncontrollably, only to be rewarded by a gasping intake that yielded him nothing! The exhalation valve only worked one way, so when he tried to inhale he vacuumed the mask even tighter than he had before. His eyes narrowed in his fight against the panic building within. His world was now the doorway and his friends with him. There was nothing else.

Philip silently collapsed as he struggled frantically to remove the regulator from the front of the mask when they'd broken out onto the landing at the top of the stairs and out of the deadly cloud of smoke within the building. His fingers didn't work right and the damn latch wouldn't seem to let go! He barely registered the hand drop from above him to swat his hands aside to quickly reach and turn the regulator. He felt the rush of air speed through his painfully vacuum-sealed lungs as the regulator dropped away. He collapsed completely in relief and rolled to his side gasping loudly, to stare into Mary's worried eyes as she continued to lean over the three of them.

"Wha...wha...where...is...the...other...one?" Philip barely managed to gasp out in his effort to catch up on the breathing he'd missed.

"Don't worry..." Mary smiled at them. "He's safe outside with us. Now just relax! Wait until you get your breath back."

"Ohh...K." Philip turned his head to give his gloved hand access to his helmet strap. He had to remove it before he could finish taking off the mask completely. His eyes narrowed when he noticed the `Taz' decal on his victim's...no, he corrected himself, Jeff's helmet.

"I should have left your ass," Philip whispered, barely audible even to himself. `No,' he thought, quickly recriminating himself. For all their differences and fights, he'd done nothing more than help a fellow firefighter. There was no way he'd ever be able to do anything different. Bill had taught him well. Even if he and the others were the bitterest of enemies away from the department, here they were brothers.

"Hey, Jeff." Philip nervously glanced into the open back doors of the ambulance where Jeff lay on the stretcher, leg encased in an orange nylon and graphite splint, a paramedic and Peter his only company. "Are you gon'a be OK?"

"Yeah," Jeff grimaced from where he lay, staring at the IV buried in his arm, "I just have to get some X-rays."

"OK...uh..." Philip shifted from foot to foot, "I'm gon'a take your gear back to the engine. I'll hang it up for you when we get back."

"Flip?" Jeff hesitated before continuing. He couldn't believe what Philip had done. If the situations had been reversed, he didn't think he'd have done the same. "I mean...Philip,...Mary knows. We told her tonight while you and Terry were inside." The sorrow in Jeff's voice and eyes was evident as he watched Philip quietly gather the gear in his arms and silently turn to leave.

"Flip,...I'm...Philip?" Jeff called to the redhead's retreating back but, all too soon, the only part of Philip still visible was the reflection of the truck lights off his reflective safety stripes as he disappeared into the cold dark morning

Marty lay on his stomach and silently sent a prayer up to heaven while he listened to the distant receding sirens. He prayed that if Philip was on that fire truck, he'd be safe and careful that morning. He'd wanted to go to the window to try to catch a glimpse of it as it passed by on the distant main road, somehow hoping that the sight would bring them closer, but the pain from his streaked back kept him from moving.

He'd decided to move through the house that night without his crutches like his therapist had wanted him to do. He was actually proud of how well he was doing. He was finally able to have both hands available to help around the house that night. Even his father had offered a few scant words of encouragement, words Marty had clung to like a drowning man to a life jacket. But then he'd stumbled against a lamp, almost knocking it over while he'd told his dad about Philip and the planned swimming lesson. His dad had flashed in anger over the clumsy display from his once graceful son and he'd reminded Marty of his destruction of most of his own swim suits and short pants.

Then his dad had left for the bar like he did every night now, and then the nightmare returned as soon as he'd returned, like it did almost every night now!

End of Part 8

Please let me know what you think. It means a lot to me. My grateful thanks to ED for his editorial assistance with this story. I'd also like to thank ED and my friend Steve (Terrific author of "No Greater Love", a great story in the historical section) for letting me vent at them (and putting up with my sense of humor) while writing some of the more unpleasant parts of this chapter. Thanks for the feedback, my friends. It keeps me sane!

Finally, let me again thank the faithful readers who've hung in there so far. Stay tuned for part 9

PS: Any artists willing to volunteer their drawing talents for illustrated versions of some of Steve's and my stories, let us know.

Thanks again, everybody! Willy B. (haztech@email.msn.com)