The End of the Beginning

The base was different. It was clear word had spread thoroughly, but many didn’t speak of the incident the week before. Everyone was in silent shock. UNIRO as a whole, like William, was disturbed.

As William walked into the garage everyone looked at him. Many went silent as he passed, others whispered. He spoke to no one. He kept his eyes down. After a tense walk, he reached the garage locker area to change with his squadron into their rescuedress. His team members took little glances at him, as if waiting for him to give a speech explaining what had happened, what he had seen. So far, he hadn’t told them anything. He did not want to. Hernandez also did not want him to, not until each of his team members had been interviewed first so as to avoid any crisscrossing of stories and rumors. All anyone really knew was who and that it had been suicide.

Other trainees from other squadrons and groups were also trying to peer down the garage at him, wanting to see if his team was really down a man. Sergey did not look at William or anyone, just the back of his royal blue paint-chipped locker, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Hansen watched Delta Group from his parked Blazer by a shut garage door, talking amongst other group commanders. Their fingers were sweeping across glass tablets as insults were being readied. Base Commander Hammond was there, her guardsmen still looking over her shoulder, waiting for anything to happen. William periodically looked in her direction but was not concerned with her well being, not in this moment. All he wanted to do was get through the training session with clear heads and move on.

Today was the first time they wore their rescuedress, the uniforms they were to wear on rescue missions in the field. Each article of clothing was wearable tech, having embedded sensors that monitored the wearers’ well being and vitals, relaying the data back to one’s glass tag or any other Bluetooth enabled device.

Making up most of William’s uniform was a white and royal blue jumpsuit separated at the waist by a hefty blue tool belt filled with clips and assorted necessary gear. Long sleeves, which had woven in elbow pads, were royal blue in color. This color stretched from wrist to wrist across the arms and up through the shoulder and Velcro collar neck area. A pair of white reflecting rings broke the blue up on his sleeves, one on his forearm, one on his upper arm. Just above the chest area, the blue stopped and became white all the way down the rest of the jumpsuit until it hit black boots. A fine light blue electroluminescent wire separated these two colors with a glow. Embed kneepads and overgrown pockets filled the leg area. To protect one’s head was a white hardhat that clipped on like a bicycle helmet. The helmet boldly said UNIRO.

All commanding officers such as himself wore a heads up computer display on an apparatus that wrapped around the back of his head that stayed on with straps and ear hooks underneath his helmet. The display rested at the end of an extendable arm that reached out in front of the wearer’s eye where data was received.

Around his right ear was an LED light and around his left was a constantly recording video camera. When William put on the wearable display he found it a little bulky so he folded its arm back behind his head. For now, he did not need it. All other team members wore combined video camera and LED earpieces instead of a heads up computer like William that could transmit their feeds to his own glass tablet, tag, or HUD. It was total connectivity. Safety goggles were hugging each of their helmets. White smart gloves that could sense vibrations and hazardous materials upon touch sheltered their hands, telling their life saving information through a flexible OLED screen embedded in each of the gloves palms.

For a final level of protection and awareness was a hard white and royal blue chest and back plate that slipped on like a bulletproof vest. It had a built in air filtration system that could deliver clean air to the wearer with an extendable hose and connecting oxygen mask. Upon being submerged in water, an inflatable life vest exploded from its plates, keeping one afloat until rescue. All of these devices were powered by their host. As the wearer would walk or run electricity would be generated and power given to the jumpsuit tech, staying on for as long as the wearer could move.

Inside their lockers were pre-stocked white backpacks filled with gear and tools that made each one close to sixty-five pounds. Those that had military backgrounds on William’s team were having no problem carrying the packs but those who did not were having some issues and were hunching forward to compensate. Some wore things specific to their roles in the squadron like Rescue Officer Heather Phillips, a former US. Navy medic, who carried a portable defibrillator and complete first aid kit or Rescue Officers Mckay, Jinping, and Niccolo, who were being specifically trained in rope and high rise rescue. They carried climbing ropes like sashes. In class, they had familiarized themselves with each piece of gear and technology, making their suit up very efficient. Everyone knew what they had to do and where everything went.

Clanging locker doors and shouts of mobilization towards the front of the garage indicated the allotted changing time was over and it was time to get started. Before William shut his locker he rubbed his fingers across his UNIRO squadron patch on his shoulder. They smelled new. Samir fell heavy on William’s mind. Somehow William knew, after what Samir had said, he had wanted this job but was trapped by something or someone. William wished he could have been there, suiting up with everyone.

A squall of yelling from the major broke William’s admiring of his patch. “Fall in line, ladies and gentleman! Squadron leaders, have your teams fall in line now in front of my pretty face!” Everyone in Delta Group did so in two rows of seven, with squadron leaders standing before them, facing Major Hansen. William and his team stood with their hands clasped behind their backs, feet in line with their shoulders, one row only having six people. Knowing Major Hansen, he was going to tell it straight. William prayed he did not but it was the first thing he said.

“Listen up, people! No need to bottle it up anymore so here’s the deal. The accident that occurred last week that saw the death of one of our trainee rescue officers is still all heavy on our minds I’m sure. It was a shock and we will not forget it. We must go on. Accidents happen. They will happen here and they will happen out there beyond our walls.” He pointed towards the roof trying to dramatize his point. “It’s life. Learn from this, people, we’re not immortal but... that doesn’t mean we can’t try,” grinned Hansen. “Today’s training will help us to do that. We cannot allow any of our mistakes or accidents affect those we try and save in anyway because that ladies and gentlemen will lead to failure and does UNIRO ever fail?” “No, sir!” cried his trainees.

Hansen narrowed his eyes. “No… it certainly does not. Now, all of your new uniforms, gear, and backpacks you received today are yours to keep and take home with you. Your names are on them all and you will be expected to return with them every day from now on to physical training. We are going to break out into our different disaster scenarios now. Your squadron will be working with one other squadron in a test of field cooperation. Both of you will need to assess the situation given and act accordingly in a set time frame. Go over this time frame and shit will start flying, I promise you all that. Okay, let’s go! Listen up for your squadron partners!” Someone began calling squadron names off a glass tablet. Once called, a squadron moved to find its partner squadron. As William waited, he saw that Hammond was looking at him. She was standing in the bed of a Blazer, her arms crossed, her eyes unwavering in their staring like two immovable objects set in stone. Her face looked old today, with wrinkles of stress and hair that was frail. Her face wanted to be seen by William, letting him know that she had questions for him, and she wanted answers. But, so did he.

William’s squadron name was called, then their partners, Firefighting Squadron 2. The two teams met and lined up next to each other and awaited orders. With a metal grinding sound the garage doors opened to reveal a cloudy morning. Propane vapors filled the interior air of the garage and puffs of smoke could be seen rising up from the fake town and mountain in the training facility outside. The town’s gray buildings blended in with the sky above with clouds covering everything all the way to the horizon. Senior officers standing outside the opening garage doors on the gravel roadway started to make their way inside. Major Hansen pointed to them.

“All squadron teams will have five supervising senior officers watching the exercises. Each exercise will be forty-five minutes long. Thirty minutes are to complete the scenario, fifteen minutes to go over the scenario after its conclusion. After that, you move on to your team’s next designated exercise. Today, we will be undertaking a total of six scenarios. Remember Delta Group, we need to stay on top so get your shit together and apply what you have learned.” Four men approached William and motioned for his team to follow them outside to a waiting truck. Hansen followed, making him the fifth senior officer to supervise their team. Hammond took off in her Blazer towards the mountain training area.

The truck they were taken to was a little smaller than a dump truck and had tires just smaller than William’s height. It looked to be amphibious with its white body standing high off the ground and its chassis wrapped under a smooth aluminum hull. Two large pipes at the back looked to be inboard jet outlets for propulsion in water. At the blocky front was a white cab that had slim black windows blended into its white body to make one fluid vehicle that had embedded LED light racks, a winch at the front and rear, and an open bed that had enough seating for an entire squadron and their gear. Two spare tires were held on either side at the vehicles midsection with covers displaying UNIRO’s symbol.

As the team rounded around the back of the truck a panting German Shepard waving its tail back and forth greeted them. A senior officer tried to control the dog with a leash but it jumped up onto William with its two front paws and tried to lick everything in sight.

“Oh my God, who is this?” cried Amanda in happiness.

The fully-grown dog brought William down to the ground with its excessive need for attention. On the ground, the licking continued. William tried to move the dogs face away from his but it was no use.

“Sam, get off,” yelled the senior officer, tugging at its leash. “Sam! Down!”

Major Hansen saw the commotion and ran over. “Jesus get that beast off of him,” he called to the senior officer. “This freaking mutt never learns.”

William, combined with the senior officer pulling it away, finally pushed the dog away from his face. The dog turned its attention to Amanda who gladly welcomed it. She knelt down and began hugging it profusely. “Hi, Sam! My gosh your so excited!” “To excited,” grunted Major Hansen, pulling William up to his feet. “This dog is stupider than mud. It rescues everything put humans. Most actually call her Shampoo.”

“Why Shampoo,” asked Heather.

“Because on her very first training exercise instead of pinpointing the location of a trapped individual she pinpointed the location of an empty shampoo bottle. Damn dog had us digging for what we thought was a person for over an hour. Sam has been under UNIRO care through every class before yours and through each one we have never been able to find her a squadron to fit in to. She’s a misfit, kinda like you Emerson; that’s why she now belongs to your squadron. Good luck,” laughed Hansen.

William wiped his face of slobber. He spit some out of his mouth. He turned around and saw Amanda still hugging the animal. They already seemed to be best friends. Without a doubt he knew his course of action with Sam.

“Miller,” smiled William, “she’s yours.”

“Seriously Captain?” glimmered Amanda.

“Make her one of us, okay.”

“Yes, sir!” Amanda avowed.

“Sure beats a drone or something, eh?” muttered Vinny.

“I disagree,” said Rescue Officer Dwayne J. Pate, otherwise known as DJ, the teams drone specialist. “Drones don’t bite. I’ve never been an animal lover. You see this scar?” DJ pointed to a small scar just above his right eye.

“Yeah,” said Vinny.

“Sheep dog. Bit me when I was ten.”

Vinny shook his head. He unclipped his helmet swiftly and then parted his hair, revealing a scar of his own.

“You see this?” asked Vinny.

“Yeah,” said DJ.

“Drone. Bit me with its rotor blade when I was twenty-four. Damn thing fell right out of the sky.”

“Hey,” shouted Hansen. “Will you two stop comparing dick sizes and get in the goddamn truck. We got some fake stuff to save. Let’s go. Emerson, tell your men to shut up.” “Yes, sir,” cried William. “You heard him. Everyone mount up and get loaded. Let’s do this.”

And with that everyone piled into the truck, Shampoo and all. Up front, the cab could seat six but only three supervising officers, including Major Hansen, sat there while William and his team caught a ride in the truck bed. Handrails that extended out from the bed helped everyone get on board. Fold-out seats lining the gray bed’s hard plastic walls made for an uncomfortable ride as the truck started to move toward the town, their partner squadron in another truck behind them with the other two supervisors driving.

In a subdued rev of their hydrogen fuel cells the two trucks made their way through the gravel road system of the training center, moving with a finesse that was surprising given the size of them. William observed each wheel could turn independently of one another, allowing the trucks to turn on a dime.

Sitting at the front of the bed directly behind the cab, William saw his team was clutching their gear like they were going to war; most were looking at the town as the trucks rounded the final turn onto its main street. A building was on fire a few blocks in. Most of it had collapsed. Only the first floor was intact; its two upper floors pancaked. Police cars with working warning lights blocked their path from going any further. Actors in police uniforms came up to the trucks and banged on the doors asking for assistance. Like in the real world there would be no explanation, no set up to what they would walk into, just unpredictable calamity.

Hansen got out of the truck along with his fellow supervisors. Two were majors like himself and the other two were colonels, all of them standing back on the streets sidewalk and watching, taking notes on glass tablets. William took charge knowing there would be no direction until the scenario was over.

“Let’s go, people, out! Everyone out! Miller keep track of time, and Shampoo. Start a thirty minute countdown starting now.”

“Yes, Captain!”

There was no tailgate so everyone just threw their gear out and jumped to the pavement in two single file lines. Last out, William directed his team forward to meet the waiting police officers. Firefighting Squadron 2 followed. The physically fit tall brunette, Captain Abby Veeder, was leading them. Captain Veeder and her squadron were dressed in blue firefighting suits covered in reflecting patches, head encasing white helmets, and white oxygen tank holding chest and back plates like William’s teams. The police officer they met had a Southern accent and acted very well. He was sweating and had makeup to make him look injured.

“Are you them UNIRO guys they called?” he asked.

William and Abby both tried to speak at the same time but William let her speak first.

“Yes, sir, we are. We were told you were in need of assistance.”

“Yeah,” he said. “The earthquake was a rattler. It blew our water mains and all our emergency services are destroyed. Government says a federal team won’t be out ’til tonight and we got fires raging just down the street at the corner there. We’ve blocked off the area but that’s bout all we can do. The fire is too hot. Pretty sure there are people trapped as well somewhere in the upper floors but they are as flat as paper now.” William let the police officer continue to speak to his fellow captain while he looked at the fire. His team was not equipped to put it out but Abby’s team was and that was where their cooperation would come in. That was the test.

Heat could be felt from where they were all standing. William’s heads-up computer display, which he had now flipped forward over his left eye, showed the buildings distance being one hundred feet away. Winds were light so the smoke was going almost straight up. Temperatures were varying between 790 and 900 degrees Fahrenheit inside the structure.

“Captain Emerson,” Abby called over. She and William convened while their two teams stood back, waiting. “Captain I suggest my team go in first and put the fire out, then your team can search the building. The police say there were thirteen people in there when the earthquake hit.” “Agreed. But the water mains are gone and there are no lakes or rivers around to take from and you don’t have a supply with you.” The scenario was designed to see what the teams would do with nothing but the gear on their backs. Resourcefulness was key.

“Yes, we do, we just need to get clever,” Abby said.

And with that she turned to both of their teams and told them of what was going to happen. Done with her plan of action she looked at William and put her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Mamedov.”

William appreciated the sympathy but now was not the best time. “Thank you, Captain, but we can mourn later. This fire has to get out. You know what to do, go.”

Captain Veeder nodded. Her team went forward upon her order, running down the street.

“Time, Miller?” asked William.

“Twenty-six minutes to go, sir.”

“Good. Okay, Niccolo, you stay here with the policeman and find out everything you can. Write it down on your tablet and send the info to all of us as you get it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Jong, you take Lawal, Fortin, Jinping, and Mckay. Assess the building’s structural damage and surrounding hazards. Find out the best ports of entry. I want a 360 degree sweep around the entire building.” “Yes, s-sir!”

“Sergeant Horbert, you take Miller, Phillips, and Mambiri. Assess our supplies. See what we have and what we can use. Phillips you get ready with your medical kit for any injuries.” “Yes, sir.”

“Miller get Shampoo ready.”

“You got it, sir.”

“Sergeant Macom, you take Mamedov and get communications up with home base. Tell them what is happening on the ground and what we are about to do. Find the best place you can to get a connection out. Get our satellite internet up.” “Yes, sir.”

“Rescue Officer Pate,”

DJ’s eyes exploded with excitement hearing his name. “Yes, Captain?”

“Get our bird in the air.”

“Yes, sir!”

William clapped his hands, “Okay people this is it. I will keep our two teams working together and join the first people in once the fire is out but until it is keep your distance. Do not approach until either me or Captain Veeder say so. I want a fifty foot perimeter established for everyone.” He was so excited and nervous at the same time his stomach felt ill. Zeroing in on the exercise he forgot all about Samir and found what he was about to do, despite its intensity, a respite. “We have the skills and the training. Let’s go save some lives. Let’s move!” All of them broke into a full sprint, kicking debris and dirt as they did, scattering as they neared the burning ball of propane. Rescue Officer DJ Pate was an Alabama-born flight instructor crazy about all things airborne. It was said he could spot and identify a make and model from two miles out and that he could fly before he knew how to run; the only thing that stopped him from the Air Force, and UNIROACTF, was his shoulder, which frequently and easily dislocates. Being the team’s drone specialist he carried a foldable surveillance drone in his backpack. While running he took it out and unfurled its four rotor blades and threw it like a ball. Like a fish finding water, the drone sensed it was in the free air and came to life, taking a flight path up and around the buildings crushed roof. What it filmed was relayed to DJ’s glass tablet and anyone else’s that requested it.

His drone flying, DJ called out over the radio, “Drone is circling Captain. Video should be available now.”

“Good, Pate. Get me a close up of the two upper floors and relay this footage to Veeder.”

“Copy.”

It was working. Seven minutes into the exercise William already knew the state of the structure and how he would enter it. His method of search would be a buddy system, seven teams of two people combing for survivors.

“Captain, this is Fortin,” radioed Gaspard.

“Yeah, I read you. Go ahead, Fortin.”

“Sir, I’ve learned that the building is a bank. When the earthquake struck, there were thirteen people inside. They may have ran to the vault for protection on the first floor of the building.” “Good intel, Fortin. Then we make the vault our primary target and the upper floors our secondary. Alert the rest of the team what we’re looking for please.”

“Yes, sir.”

On an adjacent rooftop was a water tower. The firefighting squadron was pumping water from it through their hoses onto the fire with portable solar powered pumps to little effect. Heat signatures within the structure were climbing and smoke was so thick that nothing inside of it was visible. Time was running out. Communications with home base, albeit fake, told of imminent aftershocks. These would be simulated with shake tables under all of the town’s buildings.

“Miller, what’s our time?” William asked again.

“Down to eighteen minutes left, sir.”

“Damnit.”

Something had to be sped up for them to make the deadline. William was not going to fail his first live scenario or else it would set him back years with Hansen and Hammond.

“Captain Veeder, do you copy?” he called.

She quickly replied over the radio from atop the adjacent rooftop where she was directing her team. “Go ahead, Emerson.”

“I don’t think the fire is being contained and we are running out of time. Do you agree?”

“Yes!”

“My guys say the building is a bank and the people that were inside may be trapped in the vault, which is somewhere on the first floor. You’ve got to clear a path for us to that vault or you get the whole thing out!” “We are trying our best but we are going to run out of water soon,” she said, frustrated. “We only have a swimming pool’s worth in that tank and we are more than halfway through.” Hot jets of flames tried to climb out windows, which were breaking one by one as the fire grew hotter, as if the fire itself were its own victim trying to escape. Heat made William’s face feel like it was next to a hot plate.

“We need the fire under control, Veeder, and this won’t do it.”

“Well, we are just about out of water so what do you suppose we do, Emerson?”

“You’re the firefighting experts!”

“I can’t fight anything if I don’t have punches to fight with.”

“Fifteen minutes, sir!” reminded Amanda.

“You hear that, Veeder?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m thinking.”

“Wait! Wait! I got it,” yelled William. “Mckay, get over to my position now. I’m at the eastern corner of the building.”

“Yes, sir, I am coming!” Vinny came running down the street in a few seconds, almost skating on the ground rumble as he did, like one of his adored hockey players. He ran so fast that he could not stop in time and ran into William. “What’s up, sir?” “Mckay,” William said, pushing Vinny off of him, “we are running out of water for the fire. You used to fight these things, right?”

“Yeah, all the time!”

“Would some kind of explosion put it out?”

“Oh, now you’re taking my language, Captain,” Vinny grinned. “It would if it was energetic enough. That fire is burning off of propane valves laced throughout the structure so if we introduced an explosion it would displace the burning propane. It would burn itself out in seconds because we would have removed the flames from their ignition source.” “You hear that, Veeder?”

“Yeah, I did Emerson, but how are we going to make an explosion?”

“The tanks,” injected Mckay. “Your tanks, ma’am. We can blow them all at the same time by sliding them into the building and blowing them up. The force of the blast from fifteen pressurized pure oxygen tanks will push the fire off its fuel source. Our squadron has some clearing charges that could do the trick and rupture the tanks. The bank vault will be able to hold to. It will mostly be just a light show.” “What if it doesn’t work and the charges don’t blow the tanks?” asked Abby.

“Then we fail,” said William, truthfully. “Veeder, you said get clever so...”

“Thirteen minutes!”

“Fine,” said Abby. “We fail, your squadron owes mine though Emerson, got that?”

“Copy that,” smirked William. He winked at Vinny who was smiling with anticipation.

“Let’s blow some stuff up!” shouted Vinny.