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Subject: {ASSM} Heroes, by Poison Ivan (MF)
Date: Sat, 15 Sep 2001 22:10:02 -0400
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The following work of fiction contains sexual activities between
consenting adults. If you are too young, too uptight, or your
local government is too oppressive, you should stop reading now.
 
The following story is in the public domain. While you are
legally free to do anything you like with it, out of courtesy to
the author, when redistributing, I ask that you leave my name and
contact information attached.
 
 
 
 
Heroes
By Poison Ivan
 
 
 
Rita heard the front door swing open, and Mitch thudded in
wearing his heavy boots. He stopped in the kitchen doorway and
leaned against the jamb. His hair and uniform were a crumpled
mess. "Hi," he said. "Something smells good."
 
"How does lasagna sound?" Rita said.
 
"Sounds real good. We saved a couple kids today."
 
Rita wiped her hands on a thin dishtowel and turned directly
towards him. The circles under his eyes were very dark after the
long shift, but his eyes still danced. "Yeah?"
 
He smiled, his teeth bright. He had missed a dark smear of soot
near his ear. He almost never talked about work. There were bad
days - when an apartment building burned to the ground, or a
civilian got burned up, or a firefighter was injured or worse -
and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was come home and
relive the horrible events he sometimes had to experience.
 
When they were first married, she had tried to get him to talk.
He would slog home, slump into his overstuffed armchair, and for
fifteen minutes he would drink beer and stare at the television.
"Nothing," he would snap, "nothing happened."
 
At first she was hurt by his reticence, but she slowly realized
it was probably better this way. He needed home to be a haven, a
place where the bad never intruded. Six years later and he still
dropped in front of the TV after his shift, although he didn't
drink beer any more. Mitch and Andrew Spears got together and
agreed to give up alcohol, so they would be more alert for their
jobs.
 
Rita was a firefighter's wife. Julie Spears, Andrew's wife, told
her once that wives had a job too, an important support role.
Mitch and Rita were newlyweds at the time, invited over for a
barbecue. The women were inside cutting up vegetables for
hamburgers. Julie's eyes were pink from slicing an onion. "If it
wasn't for us," Julie said as she wiped a tear with the back of
her hand, "they wouldn't be able to go out and do their jobs day
after day. They couldn't stand it."
 
Eventually, what Julie said began to make sense. So, instead of
complaining, Rita just worried.
 
The worst days were the ones when someone was seriously injured
or killed. The sickening news speeded along the phone lines among
the wives and girlfriends. "Somebody from the 164th died, have
you heard who?" "I heard it was the 112th. Have you heard from
Mitch? If he calls, ask him if Andrew is OK." And then the long,
sleepless night, waiting for someone to find out what really
happened, watching the TV news, desperately hoping to see Mitch's
image captured by a news camera.
 
And then, when he finally came home, the enormous relief. And
then Mitch's maddening silence.
 
But Mitch was bursting to talk today, a mood Rita had not seen in
years. "So what happened?" she asked eagerly.
 
"We got to this old house and it was already almost fully
involved, smoke everywhere, big flames coming out under the
eaves. A teenage girl was running around crying and screaming.
She said her brother is still inside. Cap was trying to get her
to explain where exactly they were, but she was hysterical, and
we couldn't get anything out of her.
 
"The other crew was getting ready to get up on the roof, and I
was waiting to be second on the water line, but they were having
trouble with the hydrant connection. Cap told me I needed to get
in there and see if I could find the boy.
 
"I grabbed a mask and air bottle and went through the front door.
I'd been in houses like this one before, so I found the hallway
right away. But the smoke was really bad. It seemed to be coming
from everywhere. I knew the fire was in the attic, and it could
drop down on me at any minute. Then the door at the end of the
hall just blew open, and I could see the master bedroom red with
flames. I had to duck into another bedroom to get out of the
heat.
 
"The smoke was terrible. I wasn't even sure I'd found a bedroom.
For a minute, I thought I heard crying somewhere, but there was
so much smoke I couldn't see a thing and it was so loud I wasn't
sure if I wasn't just hearing things. I felt around for anything,
but I kept bumping into walls and dressers. `Hello! Can you hear
me?' I yelled out, but I couldn't even hear my own voice, the
fire was too loud. Then it got real hot real fast. I was about to
give up and get out of there, when I nearly tripped over the bed.
 
"I felt around on the mattress and I found his foot. A little
kid's foot, right there on the bed, with his socks on. He wasn't
moving at all, and I hoped I wasn't too late. I snatched him up,
and he didn't weigh anything. Just then I heard something up on
the roof, and I knew I had to get out of there. Either the fire
was above me, or the crew was about to vent it open. The fire was
getting even louder. I could hear it in the next room, pounding,
like it was trying to break down the wall.
 
"And the kid started crying. `Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,' he was crying.
 
"I ran out and gave the kid to an EMT. They took him off in an
ambulance, but I heard he's OK. A little smoke inhalation, but
not too bad.
 
"And then Cap came up to me. `The girl here says there's another
girl inside,' he said.
 
"I told him I was going back in, but he said no, wait for them to
vent the roof. But I knew it would be too late by then. Hold them
off just a little longer, I told him, I had been in there, I knew
exactly where the rooms were. If she was still alive, I could
find her.
 
"'OK, you have one minute,' Cap said.
 
"It was the luckiest thing. The fire was already in the boy's
room and was coming down the hall, and there was only one place
left to look that wasn't fully involved. I knew I only had a
couple seconds. The last door was closed but it wasn't hot. I
pushed it open and at first the smoke wasn't quite so thick. A
little girl who couldn't have been more than two years old was
sitting right in the middle of the floor, crying, hugging a
little stuffed dog.
 
"The smoke rushed in the room. And I could hear it, I could hear
the fire coming, like an animal snarling. I grabbed her and the
fire flared up behind me in the doorway. It looked like it was
going to blow right inside on us, but it died down a minute. No
way I could get out that way, there was fire everywhere. But
there was still the window. I kicked it to pieces, I can't
believe I could even get my foot up that high, but it smashed and
someone from the 112th rushed up. Outside, there was fire coming
down from the eaves. I handed him the kid and got out.
 
"See, I cut my finger on the glass," he grinned, a little bandage
wrapped around the tip of his index finger.
 
"We were out for maybe ten seconds when the house exploded. Boom,
like a bomb. One guy from the 112th broke his arm, but he's OK."
 
Tears budded in her eyes. "Oh my God, you're a hero," she said.
 
"No," he said, "I was just doing my job."
 
He walked up to her and wrapped her up in his arms. He was a big
man, and so very solid. She held the wooden spoon, wet with
tomato sauce, away from them, trying not to drip.
 
"Do you want to eat?" she said, and a tear slipped down her
cheek. Her throat felt thick.
 
"No," he said.
 
He turned off the stove and led her to the bedroom. He undressed
her. He kissed her neck. He kissed her nipples.
 
She undressed him. When she uncovered the familiar scar across
his ribs, an injury he'd received when he fell off a roof, she
ran her finger across the damaged skin. It was strangely smooth
and ragged at the same time.
 
She lowered his pants. His penis was thick and hard. He stroked
her earlobes as she petted his solid length.
 
She lay back and he got on top of her. They kissed. He entered
her. She arched against him. He pressed into her.
 
They made love.
 
When she reached her peak, she forced her eyes open, looked into
his eyes. Mitch kissed her. In a moment, he cried out, "Oh,
Rita!"
 
Afterwards, they lay together. "It's so nice to see you in such a
good mood," she snuggled against his chest.
 
"It was a good day," Mitch said.
 
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
 
She woke up first, the sun streaming through the window. His
morning erection poked at her thigh. His eyes fluttered beneath
their lids.
 
She thought of making love again, and put her hand on his naked
hip. Mitch's eyes eased open, and he smiled.
 
Then the phone jangled. Rita forced her mouth into a pout. Mitch
rolled over and picked up the receiver.
 
He listened for just a few seconds. "OK," was all he said. When
he hung up, he kissed her. "I have to go, Baby." He slid out of
bed.
 
"But you're supposed to be off today," she whined as he pulled
his uniform pants up over his firm butt.
 
But she knew it was pointless to complain. He had flipped that
switch inside him, and he moved in that deliberate way of his,
his eyes fixed as if he were aiming at something in the distance,
his fingers moving quickly and precisely as he dressed.
 
"It's something big. I have to go."
 
She rolled over and hugged his thick pillow to her chest. It was
still warm with his heat. The air above the covers chilled her
back, but she didn't want to cover up just yet. He always told
her he loved her ass, and she wanted him to see her this way,
naked, before he left. "Hey," she said, "be careful, OK?"
 
He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes moved quickly down her
body, his smile gleaming.
 
He was gone for only a few minutes when the phone rang again.
"Did you see the news?" Julie said.
 
She turned on the television and saw a picture she did not
understand: geometric shapes and parallel lines filling the
screen. "It was a plane, it was definitely a large, passenger
plane," someone said on the TV. The camera pulled back to show
what she had been looking at: a close-up view of the World Trade
Center. A black scar sliced the building at a slight angle, and
thick, black smoke billowed upwards.
 
She noticed a passenger plane fly across behind the building and
wondered if that was the plane they were talking about. She felt
Mitch's semen slide inside her. Surely this was the fire he had
been called out on.
 
She turned off the television. She couldn't stand to watch, it
worried her too much. The big buildings were difficult, very
dangerous. It would be best to hear about it later, after he came
home. If all went well, if it was another good day, maybe he'd
even tell her about it.
 
But she knew if it didn't go well, he wouldn't say a word.
 
 
 
 
Comments? Good or bad, I'd love to hear them. Email me at
poisoniv1@hotmail.com. Or you can find more stories like this on
my website, http://bounce.to/poisoniv1.
 
Heroes
By Poison Ivan

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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