Beneath the Flames Read online

  I’m strange?

  On the way out to the parking lot, a white recruit stopped Mitch. “Might want to think twice about helping them. If it wasn’t for the dual list, most of them wouldn’t even be here. And more of us would have jobs.” The recruit walked away before Mitch could say anything.

  Mitch hurried to his truck, anxious to get away from this place.

  “Hey, Farm Boy,” Jamal said, crossing his arms over the top of a rusted Bonneville two cars over. “How’d you get that scar on your head?”

  “Combine accident.”

  “What the hell is a—ah, don’t matter. Where you staying?”

  “Out on Silver Spring, at the Bel Air. Thought I’d stay there until I know my way around.”

  “My momma’s got a upper flat for rent. Don’t know if she’ll rent to a white boy, but I’ll tell her what you did for LaMont.” Jamal raised his palms. “So, Farm Boy, what about it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Got something against living with blacks?”

  Mitch climbed into his truck, cranked the diesel to life, and pulled away, thinking about things Sid had said about black people. After today, he wondered if Sid was right about them.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, Mitch stepped inside the empty, chilly locker room that was ripe with the smell of stale sweat. He was an hour early for the second day of training, giving him time to go over the first chapter of the training manual. Recruits quietly filtered in while he studied. None of them approached the showoff and he didn’t care.

  After PT and the cat ladder, the bosses led them inside the training tower to a small room reeking of smoke, the walls and ceiling black as charcoal. Both windows were covered with plywood. In the middle of the room, Captain Scar and Lieutenant Hager stood next to a fifty-five-gallon drum overflowing with wood shavings.

  “Today we’ll see who can take smoke,” Hager said. “No masks. If you can’t take the smoke, the door’s right there. Once you go through that door, there’s no coming back.”

  Hager threw a match into the drum. The wood shavings crackled. “See how the smoke curls across the ceiling and down the walls.”

  Captain Scar paced the room scrutinizing the recruits as the smoke banked down, darkening the room. Mitch could feel Jamal next to him but couldn’t see him as the room went black. The smoke choked off his breath. His heart raced. He was back in that burning farmhouse, panicking, Maggie crying out for help.

  A flash of light cut through the smoke as a shadow dashed out. Mitch took two steps toward the door. A thick arm went across his chest and pushed him back against the wall, pinning him.

  Two more flashes of light as two more recruits bailed.

  “That’s enough,” Hager said. “Get the widows open.”

  The recruits ripped the plywood from the windows. Everyone stuck their heads into the open air, black snot running from their noses.

  Mitch nodded at Jamal. “Thanks.”

  “One big happy family, remember?”

  The rest of the day was spent raising ladders and chopping more telephone poles.

  Jamal sidled up to Mitch in the locker room after they had showered at the end of the day. He pointed at the red welts on Mitch’s shoulder. “Looks like that Bel Air’s providing free bedbugs.”

  He was right. The itching had kept Mitch up most of the night. He had to find a place soon. Mitch looked up at the big man. “Thanks again. I owe you.”

  “Then rent my momma’s flat. She needs the money, bad.”

  Bedbugs or blacks? “I’ll take a look at it.”

  * * *

  Mitch followed Jamal into the city. He was stunned by how rapidly things changed as they drove from the academy into the inner-city neigh­borhoods. Cracked concrete walkways and steps led to sagging porches with rotting wood that hadn’t seen paint in decades. The massive houses were similar to the old farmhouses around Milroy but most of these were badly deteriorated. Weed-covered lots peppered areas where houses once stood. They passed people lounging on porches with small kids tearing around the bare dirt yards, all of them black and all staring as Mitch roared by. He caught a whiff of rotting garbage. After driving for several miles, he noticed the bold black outline of a scripted “19” painted on the side of an abandoned church like some kind religious symbol.

  Jamal stopped in front of a three-story house with peeling gray paint. It was one of the few houses with a grass yard. Purple petunias bordered the house.

  A petite woman, as dark as Jamal, burst onto the wide porch. “Why you bring a white boy here?”

  “This Mitch. He’s a recruit. Helped LaMont today. Wants to rent the upper.”

  “Well, I surely don’t know. Renting to a white?”

  “Mitch, this my mom, Bernice. Everybody call her Miss Bernie.”

  Miss Bernie studied him. “You be the only white around here.”

  “C’mon, I’ll take you in,” Jamal said.

  They went up the back stairwell to the second floor and entered the sparse kitchen. The flat smelled like a country church on a hot day, like the musty smell of aging hymnals. An antique gas stove and refrigerator stood against the faded yellow back wall. A narrow hallway led to the front room, containing a dark brown threadbare couch and splintery wooden coffee table. A rust-colored water stain circled the light fixture on the ceiling.

  Jamal opened the front window. “Kinda ripe. It’ll clear out. What you think? Only three hundred a month.”

  Mitch chewed his lower lip. It was roomy and lots cheaper than the Bel Air, but this neighborhood?

  “Momma can’t work no more since her back give out. She needs the rent.”

  The sound of shattering glass drew Mitch to the window. Five kids were rifling through his truck. He raced by Jamal and down the steps. The kids scattered. He tore after them and snatched a girl by the arm before she got to the end of the block. She shrieked and clawed at him like an angry bobcat. “Get the fuck off me, motherfucker.” Her long, black braids and flimsy, silver-colored necklace whipped back and forth. Her blazing emerald eyes startled him.

  Mitch told Jamal to call the cops. The girl landed a crushing kick to his groin, bending him over. He let go and grabbed his crotch, taking short, shallow breaths. She ran to the end of the block, turned, and flashed her middle finger at him. Then she was gone.

  Jamal laughed. “Better get back to the house before she comes back. And don’t be locking your truck no more. They just gonna break the window again. Not locked, they take a look inside. Find nothing, they leave it be.”

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  “Cops won’t do nothin’.”

  “You know those kids?”

  “The girl that jacked you? Jasmine Richardson. Lives over by the fire­house. That girl’s trouble. Won’t be long and she’ll be running with the One-Niners.”

  “One-Niners?”

  “Bangers. This they hood. All the way from Nineteenth to Second Street.”

  Miss Bernie was waiting for them on the porch with her arms clamped to her chest. Mitch didn’t want to spend another night at the Bel Air but out there he wouldn’t have to worry about kids breaking into his truck.

  “So, you want it?” Jamal asked. “I’ll make sure nobody messes with your shit.”

  Mitch’s gut told him no.

  Miss Bernie scowled at Jamal. “Watch that mouth of yours, Boy.”

  “Try it for a month,” Jamal said to Mitch. “Don’t work out. You leave.”

  Miss Bernie continued scowling at Jamal.

  “Don’t worry, Momma. Everything’s good. You need the rent.”

  Mitch caved. “Okay. I’ll try it for a month if it’s okay with your mom.”

  Miss Bernie fished the keys from her apron pocket and slapped the keys in his hand. “You watch yourself. This the Devil’s playground.”

  Before Mitch left to get his things from the Bel Air, Jamal pointed at his left arm. “What’s the story behind the ink?”

  �
��It’s the John Deere emblem.”

  “Oh, yeah, tractors. You country dudes is strange.”

  No stranger than any of this. “Where do I go to file a police report?”

  “Won’t do much good. But Fifth District is where you do that. Best draw you a map. Don’t want you ending up in the wrong neighborhood.” Jamal laughed.

  * * *

  The officer at the front desk told him, off the record, he’d be better off just filing a claim with his insurance. Mitch pressed him to file a report and the officer reluctantly took his statement. Two hours later he was on his way to the Bel Air.

  It was after ten when he got back to Miss Bernie’s house. He moved his few belongings upstairs. A bedspread and fresh linens were on the bed. He was exhausted from training and dozed off as soon as he hit the sheets.

  * * *

  The next morning Mitch was studying the training manual in the locker room. Jamal lumbered over. “Any nappy-headed little girls kick your ass today?”

  “She didn’t—”

  “Dude, lighten up.” He gave Mitch a thump on the back. “How things go with Momma?”

  “I didn’t get back ’til late. Where’d you go?”

  “I don’t live there, dude. Momma don’t approve of sisters staying over. And I got needs.” Jamal waved a finger at him. “You best behave around her.” Jamal’s booming laughter ricocheted off the lockers.

  * * *

  Mitch lingered at his locker Friday after training. He was anxious to see Jennie and tell her about the first week but queasy about returning to Milroy.

  Jamal slid alongside him. “You stopping at Roscoe’s?”

  “Nah, I’m going home for the weekend.”

  “Can you stop for one? I’ve got some serious shit to tell you.”

  Roscoe’s was a neighborhood bar frequented by the diverse staff and recruits from the Police and Fire Academy. Lighted beer signs and wooden plaques with quotations like “In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash” adorned the dark paneled walls along with racks of beer steins.

  Jamal and Mitch clinked their cans of Miller Light together.

  “Only seventeen more weeks to go,” Mitch said.

  Jamal looked like Mitch slugged him in the gut.

  “What?” Mitch asked.

  “Don’t think I’m gonna to make it.”

  “No way.”

  “I messed up two written tests. Captain said I got to take them over on Monday. If I don’t pass, I’m done.”

  “Crap.”

  “Don’t know what I’ll tell Momma. Never give her much to be proud of, always had problems with reading. School said I was dyslexic or some shit.” Jamal gazed at the floor. “I’m motherfucking scared.”

  LaMont pushed between them and said to Mitch, “Dude, what you done for me is tight, man. Just wanna say you a stand-up cracker. And what I said that first day is fucked. Didn’t mean nothing by it.” He reached out his hand. They grasped thumbs and shook.

  Jamal turned LaMont around and gave him a push away from the bar. “He gets it, LaMont, now go.” Jamal frowned. “Even that fool’s doing better’n me on the tests.”

  They sat in silence while the others laughed and talked.

  “Jamal, come over to your mom’s tomorrow. I’ll tutor you.”

  “Ain’t you going home?”

  “One big happy family, remember?”

  “Thanks,” the big man said in a small voice.

  Jennie would understand.

  * * *

  Next morning, after being out late with Jamal, Mitch called Jennie. “Hey, Jen, sorry about last night.”

  “Would have been nice to call.”

  “I had to help a friend. It got late.”

  “Yeah? Okay, I get that. What time you coming today?”

  “That’s just it. This friend kind of saved my job and he needs me to help him with his tests.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Jen?”

  “You promised you’d come back every weekend.”

  “Once all this settles down, I’ll be back every weekend.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  * * *

  Mitch didn’t make it back the next weekend or the next. He dreaded calling Jennie to tell her he couldn’t come in. When he put off calling her, she called him. He desperately wanted to see her but as time passed, it became easier to rationalize staying in Milwaukee. Jennie’s calls went from pleading, to anger, then stopped.

  He never made it back to Milroy during training.

  Chapter 11

  Lieutenant Hager wasn’t lying when he said things would get much tougher. The instructors pushed them to the limits of physical and mental endurance. Through the first six weeks, ten recruits dropped out. Four more couldn’t complete the training evolutions in the required time and were dropped. Two recruits succumbed to the sweltering heat of July and had to be transported to the emergency room. They never rejoined the class, leaving only sixteen of the original thirty-two candidates to complete training in August.

  The recruits filed onto the graduation stage, dressed in blues: dark blue pants, polished black shoes, and powder blue button-down shirts with the red and white Maltese emblem of the Milwaukee Fire Department on the left shoulder. No more red jumpsuits. Friends and family in the audience rose, cheering and clapping. Throughout the ceremony, Mitch focused on the doors to the auditorium. His brother, Chris, had promised to spread the word about his graduation. Nobody from Milroy showed. Not Jennie and not even his own brother. He barely heard Captain Scar introduce him.

  He approached the captain to receive his diploma and badge. Captain Scar stopped him. “Every once in a while we get an extraordinary recruit come through training. When recruit Garner walked into class the first day fresh off the farm, I thought there was no way this cocky young man would fit in. As we got into training and started breaking into small groups to fight fires, raise ladders, and open roofs, this recruit excelled at every drill and pulled along others who were struggling. He never left anyone behind and did his best to help the group accomplish their tasks. And that is what our job is all about. Working together as a team. Our lives depend on it.”

  For the first time since they started training, Captain Scar smiled. “Welcome to the Milwaukee Fire Department, Firefighter Garner.” Captain Scar shook Mitch’s hand vigorously and handed him the diploma and badge. The room exploded in applause. Mitch felt like a golf ball lodged in his throat.

  Family and guests were invited to join the newest members of the Milwaukee Fire Department at Roscoe’s after the ceremony. With no family or friends from back home to celebrate with, Mitch just wanted to go back to his flat. But Jamal demanded he join him and his mom. When they entered the bar, it was jammed and noisy. Jamal led Mitch toward a table where Miss Bernie was waiting. Before they got to her, a voice from the back of the bar called out, “Mitch, over here.”

  He raced to Jennie and lifted her off the floor. His brother, Chris, and Big Jim, the captain from Milroy, rose from their seats.

  “We almost didn’t make it,” Chris said. “Bad pileup on I-94 outside Waukesha. By the time we got here, the auditorium was filled. We had to stand outside, but we heard it all. Holy crap, Brother. You ruled.”

  Jennie leaned back. “Okay, you can put me down now.”

  Everything was making sense again. Jennie filled Mitch in on Milroy gossip, like how Carol Barker had cheated on Ray Bunzell with his brother Jack. Now the whole Bunzell clan was in an uproar, taking sides in the family drama.

  Chris told him they lost corn to the hail storm last month. Sid didn’t buy crop insurance again so getting through winter with enough feed would be a struggle.

  “Dad ever ask about me?” Mitch asked.

  Chris shrugged. “You should know there’s no way we’d make it without that five hundred you’ve been sending us.”

  Jamal ambled to their table with a pitcher of beer. “Who needs a refill?”

  Mitch
sprang to his feet. “This is the man who schooled this farm boy on the big city.”

  The others stared at the dark man towering over them.

  Jamal rested his hand on Mitch’s back. “Just a couple of brothers watching out for each other.”

  Jamal told them how Mitch tutored him and two other recruits. And how Jamal’s mother brought Kool-Aid and chocolate chip cookies up to the flat while they studied. When they finished studying, they’d go for a jog, getting stares as they ran through the hood.

  Other classmates drifted over to introduce themselves and share stories of how Mitch pulled them through drills.

  “You have a lot of admirers,” Jennie said flatly.

  “Sure didn’t start that way.”

  LaMont stepped in front of Jamal. “Mitch, dude. This your crew?”

  “This is my brother Chris. And these are my friends Jim and Jen.”

  “Wooo, girl, you hot. Ever get tired of this country boy you come look me up.”

  Jennie’s eyebrows shot up.

  Jamal pulled LaMont away. “These people don’t want to hear your nonsense.” Jamal gave him a gentle push away from the table.

  “Mitch knows I’m playing.”

  Across the room, Miss Bernie was holding court with two heavy women and an immense, nattily dressed bald man. She was tiny next to them.

  “Your mom got a boyfriend?” Mitch asked.

  “Nah, he’s a church friend, Brother Williams.” Jamal waved to the others. “Nice meetin’ you all. Let you get back to your visit.”

  “Bet he can swing an axe,” Big Jim said after Jamal left.

  “Jen, I need to talk. Let’s go outside.” To the others, Mitch said, “We’ll be back.” He led her to his truck.

  “Been a long time since I got a ride in this,” Jennie said.

  “I missed the hell out of you.” He hugged her and pressed his lips to hers.

  She pulled back. “Who you seeing?”

  “What? Nobody. Why?”

  “Dammit. I didn’t want to do this today.”

  “Do what?”

  “I’m proud of you. I am. I’ve seen a side of you today I haven’t seen in a long time.”