[Chapter 322: Not Hellfire, But Hell in Flas]
The dry air filled Oliver's mouth, making him feel uncomfortably hot all over. The forr seasonal firefighter rummaged through his wallet and pulled out his last bill, using it to buy a cold beer. He climbed into his beat-up car and headed up the mountain.
Since being laid off by the fire departnt in May, his life had fallen into disarray. Bills piled up, rent was due, and he had children to support. The pressures of being a middle-aged man were burdens that few could truly understand.
As he drove, battling the strong winds, he made his way toward Hollywood Hills. The iconic Hollywood sign stood against the hillside, its lights illuminating the long string of letters. Oliver maneuvered around the roads and parked in an area scattered with dry twigs and leaves. Stepping out, he crunched the leaves beneath his feet.
Oliver yearned to get his job back. Sure, the Los Angeles Fire Departnt had laid off seasonal firefighters before, but that group had always managed to fight their way back with real skill. In the darkness of the hills, apart from the Hollywood sign, there were no lights in sight.
He put on gloves, took out a windproof lighter, and lit the dried leaves on the ground. Anxious that the flas wouldn't catch, he lit spot after spot. So fires flickered out, while others blazed bright.
When he saw three fires growing stronger, he let out a whoop of laughter, tucked the lighter away, and rushed back to his car, starting the engine and speeding off. The flas, fueled by the wind, began to surge up the northern slope of the Hollywood Hills, creeping closer to the summit.
...
Ashes and sparks, lifted by the gusts, began igniting seven or eight more spots nearby. After Malibu Hills and the Santa Monica Mountains, several ridges of Hollywood Hills lit up as well.
The shrill sound of fire alarms echoed, and passersby began calling 9/11 to report the blaze. At that mont, anyone looking from Malibu Beach toward the western mountains would have seen a glow illuminating the night sky.
From Sherman Oaks, looking north, the firelines in the northern Santa Monica mountains connected to form long lines.
...
At the Los Angeles Fire Departnt, Susan had been on duty for days when she received the alarm. Imdiately, she grabbed her gear, turned on her hidden cara, and rushed out of the office with Deputy Chief Michelle.
Four standby fire trucks needed to deploy right away to respond to the nearest Hollywood Hills fire. As they approached an SUV, Susan noticed sothing awkward at the firetruck side. Male firefighters rushed over, suited up, gathered their gear, and jumped in.
anwhile, the all-female firefighting crew, which had been ford to promote gender balance, was sluggish in their preparations. It wasn't that they weren't trying; the heavy gear and physical limitations hindered their speed.
Michelle's face turned sour as she shouted, "Hurry up! You've trained for over a month; where's your professionalism?" Finally, under the deputy chief's constant urging, the two female fire trucks sprang into action.
Susan remained quiet, readjusting her cara angle to capture everything happening. Two fire trucks, one command vehicle, and one communications support vehicle began rolling out of the fire station headquarters.
Minutes later, through the windshield, Susan saw the glowing red sky above Hollywood Hills. The vehicle moved forward when suddenly, a gust took them by surprise. The scorching air blasted through the AC vents, flooding the car with the sll of burning.
The inexperienced female driver quickly switched the vent to recirculate. Susan stared in shock at the road ahead. A thick plu of smoke billowed from the Hollywood Hills, with fiery sparks shooting up from the festering flas, like hell's own welcoming party.
...
A park ahead suddenly caught fire, the flas erupting wildly, fueled by sothing flammable hidden away. Not far from there was a gas station. Michelle, who had been involved in recruiting female firefighters, felt a mixture of politics and a desire to prove that won could perform jobs traditionally held by n.
She saw the flas licking the bright gas station sign and imdiately radioed, "Put that fire out first!" The two fire trucks turned into the park area, getting close to the flas.
As if the heavens were cooperating, the winds cald slightly. Michelle, who had researched firefighting techniques and observed training sessions, disembarked and directed her crew of female firefighters to prepare for action.
These won were trained and might have been nervous as this was their first real firefight, but they operated thodically, dragging high-pressure hoses to the fire's edge.
The intense heat and the crackling of flas made their courage falter.
When the water valve opened, several female firefighters held the hoses and unleashed powerful jets of water. However, the person turning on the valve fumbled, and the firefighters struggled to maintain their grip. The imnse force of the water knocked them over, sending hoses flailing like a giant python stirred to life.
Instead of spraying water into the fire, they drenched the fire trucks instead. In the chaos, one stream of water drenched Michelle, who was petite and not prepared for such force, causing her to tumble to the ground.
Soone shouted, "Shut off the water valve! Shut it off!" The person in control of the valve beca flustered, panicking and fumbling.
Everyone knew that practice and real-life firefighting were two vastly different experiences. On the gas station side, several male employees rushed over with fire extinguishers, ready to help. But what they found was an absurd scene. The two fastest n quickly ditched their extinguishers to tackle the wayward hose.
Though they fell awkwardly, they managed to get the hose under control, finally shutting off the valve. The won on the ground felt embarrassed.
"Put out the fire! Hurry!" called a burly man. "Don't just stand there; we're gonna catch fire to the gas station!"
With the flickering light reflecting off the flas, another bald man remarked loudly, "It's all won? Which idiot thought it was a good idea to send a bunch of won to do this? Can they even handle this?"
His words hit a nerve. One of the female firefighters sprang up, disregarding her pain from being knocked away by the hose. "You're being sexist!"
Others rallied around her. For these won, the fire was secondary; their struggle for equality took center stage.
"Apologize!"
"Apologize now!"
"Expose him online!"
The sudden outcry left the man stunned. "Wait, aren't you here to fight fires? What is this, a personal attack?"
...
anwhile, from the communications vehicle, Susan closed her eyes in disbelief. As a fellow woman, she found her sisters' actions difficult to watch. Still, she didn't hesitate to capture each mont on film with her hidden cara.
...
Michelle stood up, attempting to regain control, but the won were too energized with emotion. Finally managing to refocus them on their task, the flas in the park were nonetheless spiraling out of control.
Exhausted, Michelle saw the fire moving toward the gas station and issued a retreat order. Even in such a critical mont, so won were still embroiled in disputes with the n at the gas station, threatening to expose them on Twitter if they didn't apologize.
As they loaded onto the fire truck for evacuation, the won argued loudly, deflecting bla and accusing each other, nearly coming to blows.
...
Listening to the bickering over the radio, Susan suddenly understood why the morale at the fire departnt headquarters was steadily diminishing.
It was simply due to the number of won involved.
...
As the vehicles moved away from the fire, the flas surged higher. They advanced into the gas station; luckily, the day's fuel supply had nearly been exhausted, so the explosion wasn't catastrophic.
However, flaming debris scattered across nearby streets, buildings, and green spaces, igniting new fires. The blaring sirens of police and fire trucks resonated throughout half of Los Angeles.
...
At the northern end of Santa Monica Mountains, two fire teams guarded a neighborhood, preventing flas from encroaching on residences.
The lead, Peyton, shouted, "The tank is empty; open the fire hydrants and use the fire hoses!" The city used special pipelines for firefighting water that held higher pressure.
Equipped, the male firefighters could control a single high-pressure hose together as they advanced toward the flas. Water gushed from the hose, but the pressure was alarmingly low.
Peyton wondered what was wrong and yelled, "Increase the pressure!"
From the hydrant, Campbell reported, "Chief, there's no water! The fire lines are dry!"
"How is that possible?" Peyton couldn't believe it; this was ergency water. Even the city hall couldn't be so negligent.
Soone else sprinted over, shouting from a distance, "Chief, no water! It's all dry; I've checked several hydrants!"
Peyton cursed, "Damn it!"
Firefighters retreated, and sensing their captain's responsibility, he shouted, "Get the wind machines; follow !"
As he turned to go, Campbell caught his arm. "Chief, rember the 9/11 response teams? Most of those guys have families; what if sothing goes wrong?" His voice wasn't low enough to avoid being overheard by those around them.
A heavy silence fell over the group.
Another voice piped up, "The dry lines an there are idiots running things. If we get hurt, will they even help?"
A nearby fireman pulled off his helt. "Those idiots would rather cut back on firefighting gear purchases than focus on equity; our benefits have been slashed enough..."
Peyton closed his eyes, "We did our best."
*****
/Sayonara816.
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