Rainbow by K.L. Savage
“We expect landfall of Hurricane Jeffrey within the next forty-eight hours since it has gained momentum. It’s heading northeast and moving at a slow pace of just five miles an hour—”
I turn off the radio, needing silence as I tinker with the 1965 Ford F-100 I’ve been trying to restore for the last ten years. It isn’t often that I’m out in the barn, but it’s always because there’s something on my mind when I am.
Plus, the damn radio is too damn sad. Everyone keeps waiting for this hurricane. It’s taking its sweet fucking time to ruin lives.
I lie down on the creeper seat and roll under the truck. It’s the same make and model that I lost the night Mime and I lost our parents. Trying to rebuild this truck is like trying to restore the good memories I lost a long time ago. I can’t seem to get anywhere with this thing. It’s a time-suck, but that’s alright. Sometimes my hands need to stay busy when I’m not on a shift at the station.
The frame is still rusted, the engine won’t start, and I don’t even think I care. I just need to be doing something other than thinking about Ryan—a man.
But trying to stay occupied is like attempting to dig a hole in the rain. The hole fills with mud and water no matter how fast you dig. That’s where I’m at. The more I try not to think about Ryan, the more I do. It’s been a slow twenty-four hours with him on my mind. I keep kicking myself in the ass for not asking for his number. I chickened out. I’ve never asked for a man’s number before. Is it the same? I didn’t know, and I also didn’t know if what I felt for him at that moment was real.
So, I decided against it.
Now, I wish I hadn’t. Actually, I wish I would have kissed him when I had him against the rig. Then whatever tension there is between us could be clarified because there was a lot of tension.
The wrench slips from my hand and lands directly on my nose. “Mother fucker!” I shout and roll out from under the truck. Blood drops from my right nostril, and I rip the grease rag off my shoulder and hold it against my face.
My brother’s laugh has me turning around.
“How long have you been there?”
He grins and lifts a shoulder.
Great. Long enough to know how I got the bloody nose in the first place. “Shut up.”
He zips his lips closed and leans against the Craftsman toolbox I just bought. He crosses his arms and sighs, which tells me he wants to talk about something.
“What? It was an accident. I try not to hit myself in the face.” But, to be honest, I wasn’t focused. I don’t need to be out here with all these tools.
I sit down in a beach chair I plopped out here a few years ago and cross my legs. “Well, I don’t have all day. My shift starts in four hours.”
He doesn’t know sign language, which I’ve told him a hundred times he needs to learn, but that just pisses him off, so I haven’t brought it up again.
Mime points to his eye, then cups his hands at his temples, then points to me.
After so many years trying to figure out what he is trying to say, I’m an expert in Mime language now. “You saw me, huh? Doing what?”
He points to his leg and then mouths the name Ryan.
“Oh.” I look away from him when I realize what he’s saying. “You saw Ryan and me yesterday at his rig?”
Mime nods.
“Did anyone else?”
He shakes his head and reassures me by pointing at his chest.
Just him.
He walks up to me, takes the chair next to me, and scoots it around until he’s facing me. We look fucking ridiculous in these tiny beach chairs, which is another reason I keep them around.
He taps my chest with his finger, flattens his palm over my heart, and mouths a different word.
Men.
Damn, this conversation is happening a lot sooner than I wanted it to. If I even wanted it to. I didn’t know if I was going to bring this up or not. I needed time. I still need time to figure it out.
“What did you see?”
He deadpans me with a bored expression.
“Fair enough.” I open the cooler and grab a bottle of water. “Want one?”
He shakes his head again, telling me no.
As I turn it to break the seal, the plastic cap crunches, then I chug down half the bottle. I wipe my lips and stare outside the barn doors. The scenery is gorgeous. We have a perfect view of the Mississippi River on one side and the beautiful forest on the other.
“Man, what do you want to know? I don’t know anything.” I continue to look out over the water, the sun reflecting off the ripples of the murky water. The river always seems to get muddy when a storm comes. Baton Rouge is beautiful, but the river itself can look downright disgusting sometimes.
He nudges my arm and huffs out a breath. He points to his heart again, then to me, and waves his hands like flames. It’s his way of saying he’ll love me no matter what, even through fire.
He means it too. I can count the number of times he’s told me that on the one hand. But, on the other hand, every time he does that, it hinders my ability to breathe for a second. “I love you, too. No matter what.”
I let out a heavy exhale and play with the corner of the label on the water bottle. “Honestly, brother, I don’t know. This is all new for me. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know if I like men, but there’s something about him. I like him.”
Mime smiles and nods for me to continue.
“I’m still trying to figure all this out. The thought of any other guy doesn’t do the same for me. I was immediately attracted to him. And then he opened his mouth, and all that sass came out, and I liked him more. I wanted to get to know him. I swear, the ambulance was an accident. Plus, I chickened out anyway. I don’t know how to go about seducing a man. Is it the same as a woman?” I scrub my hand over my face and groan. “I just… I don’t know yet, okay?”
He taps me on the temple and nods, telling me I do know.
I’m just afraid because I’ve never done it before.
“Yeah, I know you’re right. I guess the question is, do I care that I find myself attracted to a man for the first time in my life? You don’t care?”
He shakes his head and mouths, “Just want you happy.”
“Pretty sure you’re the best brother a guy could ask for, you know.”
He brushes his shoulder off, and I laugh at his confidence.
“Well, I think maybe it should bother me more that I like a guy, but I’m more focused on how the hell I get him to like me. I’m stumped. This is my first time navigating these waters, and he seems out and proud, you know?”
Mime contemplates and finally nods, then points to the clubhouse and lifts a brow in question.
“Ah, am I going to tell them?” I take another swig of my water. “Yeah, I think when I know more, you know? What if I see him again and I don’t have the same reaction? What if it was a fluke? I know Jokester wouldn’t care, but you know Sherlock and Puzzle. They’re old school. I wonder if they would cause issues.”
Mime runs his hands down the sides of his head to show long hair, then flips it over his shoulder.
I know who he’s asking about. “I think they turn a blind eye to Cosmo, but if more of us came out as gay, I don’t know how they would handle it.” I finally toss the bloody rag down on the barn floor. “I think it’s done bleeding. Okay, are we going to sit here and talk about our feelings, or are we going to fix this damn truck before my shift?”
Mime snorts and gets more comfortable, leaning back in the chair and crossing one foot over his knee.
“Lazy bitch,” I grumble and push myself up to my feet. I lie on the creeper seat again and disappear under the truck.
Classic rock begins to flow through the barn, and I can see Mime bouncing his foot. I do feel better knowing that I have my brother’s support. It’s fucking stupid that I need to worry about other people and their reactions, but that’s the way of the world, right?
People can’t seem happy with who they want unless they get permission, and I think that’s fucked up.
Well, I’m not going to ask for permission. A Ruthless King doesn’t ask. We take. And we always get what we want.
And I want Ryan.
I stop tinkering under the truck when the words cross my mind. Holy fuck. It feels good to say those exact words to myself.
And now that I have, there’s nothing that can stop me.
Mime kicks my boots, then yanks me out from the truck and taps his wrist. I check the time and curse. “Fuck. I’m going to be late. Thanks, Mime. I’d be late every time if it weren’t for you.” I run out of the barn to my bike, throw on my helmet, and start the engine.
I raise my hand to say goodbye to my brother and head down the paved driveway lined with willow trees. The arms of the long branches feather against the ground, and while it is eerie, it’s beautiful at the same time.
I take the road that follows the Mississippi River and rest my hand against my thigh while I ride. Finally, I pass the entrance to the bridge that brings us to downtown Baton Rouge and turn off the road into Fire Station 11. I park my bike and swing my leg over, plopping my helmet on the seat.
“Right on time,” I say to myself as I stroll into the fire station.
“You’re pushing it, Kennedy!” Captain yells from his office.
He can’t even see me from here.
“How does he do that?”
“Man, you and me both. He has eyes everywhere.” Saint greets me while stirring the pot on the stove.
“I swear he has some voodoo shit going on. I hear his cousin’s sister’s ex-husband’s niece is into that shit,” Baldwin whispers, kneeling on the couch with his arms laced over the back so he can talk to us.
I slap him on the back of the head. “Where the fuck did you hear that bullshit?”
“His cousin’s sister’s ex-husband’s niece,” he explains again.
“Hey, did you hear? We have a temporary medic,” Taylor announces from beside Saint as they cook dinner.
They’re the chefs. No one else knows how to cook worth a shit.
“Oh yeah?” I play dumb as my heart kicks up a notch. There’s no way Ryan is stationed here, out of all the firehouses in Baton Rouge. The chances of that…
“Yeah, I think his name is Ryan? He’s stuck to himself with Sunday. They’re doing inventory on the rig now. He seems like a decent guy.”
“If you like a chihuahua that bites,” Taylor mumbles under his breath, and everyone stares at him. He must feel their gazes because he lifts his head and continues to cut the vegetables. “What? Like none of you were thinking it.”
“Well yeah, dumbass. You aren’t supposed to say it,” Saint chuckles, scooping the vegetables up in his palm and sprinkling them in the chili.
“Oh. Why not?”
The alarm goes off, and my heart goes racing. I don’t have time to think about Ryan now. I’m in work mode. Captain Warwick runs out of his office just as the address is announced over the speaker.
“That’s the Piggly Wiggly,” I announce, suiting up as quick as possible. I notice from the corner of my eye Kincaid and Lock sliding down the pole and running to get suited up too.
“People are panicking because of this hurricane. I mean, we’ll get some nasty weather too. We’re only an hour and a half away from where the storm is supposed to hit. Have you seen it? It’s taken a mean curve to the East. It’s barely missing Baton Rouge. New Orleans is going to get walloped,” Taylor speed talks as he slips on his boots and snags his jacket to go.
“Man, they always do.” I hop into the truck and look out the window to see Ryan and Sunday hopping in their own rig.
As we pull out of the station, the sirens blare, and Saint takes a left, heading toward the bridge. From here, I can see the smoke billowing into the air. No matter how many years I put into this job, I’m taken back to that fateful day every time I see a fire.
“Get the fuck out of the way!” Saint shouts at the traffic, honking the horn so he can get people to move over.
It’s four in the afternoon and rush hour has started. We inch forward as cars move over one by one.
“I fucking hate people who can’t drive.”
“You’re the only one who’s so angry, Saint,” Baldwin jokes.
It has us laughing, which helps lighten the mood in the cab. There’s always this huge dark cloud hanging over us before we go on a job. Getting to smile before we tackle the fire actually helps us. Sounds like a lame Hallmark card, but I guess, in a way, it is.
Fucking smile and you’ll have a better fucking day.
We all feel like how that sounds, and it belongs on a damn T-shirt.
Saint whistles under his breath when we park in front of the grocery store. It’s a madhouse. Police are arresting people, probably for shoplifting. As we hop out of the cab, one of the police officers runs up to us as we finish suiting up.
“It’s a madhouse here. There was a propane tank a customer turned on, and he lit it because he believed it was the end of the world. As far as we know, the chaos is out here now. You take care of the fire, and we’ll take care of—”
His attention is diverted when someone throws a bottle of alcohol at his head. He yanks his gun from his holster and aims it at the citizen. “Get on the ground. Hands above your head.”
“Well, this is a shitshow,” Baldwin mutters, and all at once, we put on our masks.
No smoke jumping today.
“Taylor, Saint. Do the roof check. Baldwin and Kennedy go inside and do a sweep. Kincaid and Lock will be on the hose,” Captain barks the orders to us.
“You got it, Cap!” a few of us say.
We rush into the front doors, where it’s mostly smoke. Fortunately, the fire hasn’t made its way toward the front yet. Instead, it’s hanging in the back of the store.
“Damn, it looks creepy. Like we’re going through an apocalypse or something,” Baldwin says into the mic in his helmet. His voice sounds more profound and a bit distorted, but I’m able to understand him.
“Yeah, it does,” I reply, staring at the mess in front of us.
The cash registers are open, and coins litter the floor along with fruits and vegetables. There are a few splatters of blood, probably from a fight.
Even with protective gear on, the heat from the fire and the heavy weight of the equipment makes me sick. I mute the radio and begin to shove shelves and aisle towers out of my way with the ax. “Baton Rouge Fire Department! If you can hear us, call out!” I yell, then flip on the radio again. “I think you take the west side, and I’ll take the east.”
“Sounds good. We meet here in ten minutes. That’s it. Okay?”
I nod and take a sharp right, kicking a box of cereal out of my way. “Baton Rouge Fire! Call out if you need help!” I shout again, but all I can hear is the crackling and roar of the fire. “How’s it going up on the roof, guys?” I ask Saint and Taylor.
“Good. It’s the east side that seems the weakest, so be safe if you’re over there. We’re making more vents now,” Saint replies.
I continue to keep calling out for help, but no one answers. I run down the cake aisle, then the cereal, and then it’s the next aisle that has the flames. The fire is loud, whooshing and lashing at everything it can get its hot whips on.
“Baldwin? We have three minutes before we meet.”
“Roger that. I’m clear on the west side.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when he answers. These guys might not be my MC, but they’re still my family.
“Get out of that building now. Do you copy? I said get your asses out of there now! The owner just informed me there wasn’t just one propane tank in there—”
Cap doesn’t get to finish. A loud explosion rocks the foundation from the next aisle over, and the shelving unit blows to pieces, knocking right into me. I fly backward and hit the metal case behind me, and the air is driven from my lungs with a heavy thud.
I hear another explosion somewhere to my right. The flames trickle higher, angrier, and with purpose.
To destroy everything.
There’s yelling on the other end of the radio, but I can’t understand it all. It’s a jumbled mess of panic. I groan and try to crawl out of the rubble, but there’s too much on me.
“Kennedy? Where are you? Nathan? Can you copy?” I hear Baldwin’s voice and nod, forgetting he can’t see me.
“I’m here.” I cough.
“Propane? Why the fuck were there full propane tanks? You pay for that as you leave,” he shouts.
I try and push the large metal shelving unit off me, but it’s too heavy. “I’m in the aisle next to cake mixes.”
“Station 11, do you copy? Station 11?” Cap asks frantically.
“Baldwin and Kennedy are here, Cap. Saint, Taylor?” Baldwin questions as he comes running through the flames that have taken over the other aisle. When he sees me, he skids to a stop. “Saint, Taylor? That isn’t fucking funny.” Baldwin groans as he slides the debris off me then grabs my hand. “You okay to walk?”
“I think so. Just out of breath.”
“Taylor. Saint?”
“We’re here, Cap—” Saint’s answer is deafened by another propane tank exploding, feeding the fire with its dangerous gas. The west side of the roof collapses, and the fire grows more extensive when it gets the oxygen it needs.
I can see the sky, ruined by clouds of smoke—the flames arc upwards, like red-hot needles trying to pierce the heavens.
“Taylor! Saint!” I scream into the mic and begin running in that direction.
Baldwin stops me by gripping my jacket. “We might not come out if we go back there.”
“Kennedy, Baldwin, this is a direct order. You get your asses out here now!”
I flip off my radio. “I am not leaving them behind. No one is left behind. Ever.” Without another word, I sprint to the west side. I don’t think of Baldwin. Instead, I think of my two friends; the memories of running through the woods to get my brother and me to safety are so fresh and clear in my mind.
I won’t leave Taylor and Saint behind like I left my parents.
When we get to the rubble, I can barely see the rocks from the fire. I flip my radio back on. “Taylor, Saint? Talk to me.” I wait, too afraid to breathe just in case I miss one of them trying to speak. My eyes sting from sweat, and the heat from the blaze is almost too hot to handle. I begin trying to clear the stone in hopes I find my friends.
“It’s too late, Kennedy,” Baldwin says, grabbing my shoulder.
I spin around and grip the front of his jacket and shove him back. “If you want to leave, nothing is stopping you. Fucking go, then.”
A big chunk of roof collapses to the floor, making me take a quick step back to dodge. And then I see it: an arm through the pile. I scream in agony as the flames lick my suit, and my gloves get hotter. I finally remove the rock where I see Saint and Taylor.
“Fuck am I glad to see you,” Saint gasps.
I reach down and pull Saint up first. “Can you walk?”
He nods.
“Get him out of here, Baldwin.” I flinch when another section of the roof collapses, and I stretch my arm down and grab Taylor with both hands. “Come on, buddy.” I throw him over my shoulders, carrying him in the typical fireman’s hold, and run.
I gasp for breath and jump over fallen beams.
The smoke is black. It’s almost too hard to see, so I bend down and use my hand to flip on the helmet light. “We’re getting out of here, Taylor.” I see a familiar cash register, where there’s a random eggplant on the conveyor belt and slide sideways through the aisle so we can fit.
My muscles burn, my entire body aches, and my skin feels like it’s about to fall off the bone, but I can’t give up.
I can’t leave anyone behind.
The front doors are in sight, and another explosion causes the rest of the roof to collapse. I step through the doors just in time. But, not a second after I do, the air gets sucked inside with a massive backdraft, and the flames expand. The force propels me out the doors, and I hit the concrete ground, which jostles Taylor from my shoulders. Kincaid drags me a safe distance away from the building while Lock does the same to Taylor. I stand to shuck my helmet off and take a deep, ragged breath.
“Is he breathing?” No one answers me. “Is he alive?”
Ryan kneels on the ground and checks for a pulse. He nods. “It’s weak, but it’s there.”
My knees crumble like the roof in the grocery store, and I hit the ground, struggling to catch my breath. I fall to my hands next and hang my head, sweat dripping from my hair to the hot pavement.
That was close.
“Let me examine you.” Ryan’s fingers tilt my chin up, and someone mindlessly works off my jacket. He places a new oxygen mask around my nose and mouth, but I’m too tired to breathe.
He’s talking to me, but I can’t hear him. I’m not focused enough.
Fires do that to me. They rearrange my brain, suck the oxygen from my lungs, and tease death over my head every time I run into danger.
No matter how many times I sprint into a building, I always come out.
My life has to have a clock. At this point, how much time is left?
Cheating death has to have its consequences.
I just haven’t figured them out yet.
