Lukas Pridemore parked next to the Manistique City EMS vehicle. Carrying his first coffee of the morning in a travel mug, he climbed out of his ten year-old Malibu. Kathy Pruit, her shift reports on a clipboard, was just then climbing down from the driver’s side of the ambulance.
“You did a shift by yourself?” Lukas asked.
“Yup. Times are tough We’re short a few good men.” Kathy said. She left the engine running for Lukas. “Chief said a County cruiser would respond to back up any calls I got alone.”
“Yeah? And highly trained individuals they are. Wasn’t Sherman working a double shift to ride with you?”
“Suspended two days. Oh, you’ll find out. I’m surprised the Chief didn’t call you at home. I’m on zero sleep but rollin’ in the overtime.” Kathy reached back into the cab to shut off the headlights. The sky out over the flat, gun-metal grey of Lake Michigan was just beginning to lighten. “You he’s gonna punish by givin’ you some help.”
“Yeah, I bet I know what this is about.” Lukas’s Malibu was old enough to still have a key lock and he almost used it. But there was nothing to steal. Even his Ferris State parking sticker was long expired. “Wait. What? They’ve hired somebody?”
“It’s on a trial basis. When I rode with Sherman yesterday the back-end looked like an operating theater. But, I don’t think the Chief can suspend you and Sherman both at the same time. You’ve got seniority and then he’d have to do a shift himself with this newbie.”
“Yeah. Someone has to answer the phone.”
“Have a nice rest of your day. I want twelve uninterrupted hours.” Kathy handed Lukas the clipboard and made tracks in a fresh dusting of snow toward her Jeep.
The Fire Station was not an aircraft hanger but it was plenty big enough for one ladder truck and a pumper in the two bays. Another pumper was stored for the winter behind the building. Other than one church steeple, there was no structure over three stories tall in Manistique. But, the potential existed for them to be burned off the map by a forest-fire that could come into town from three sides. Every summer seemed more parched than the last.
Lukas angled through an open bay and around the hood of the ladder truck toward the office. He touched a switch outside the office to bring down the bay door. The concrete floor appeared to be immaculately scrubbed. Who was doing maintenance while they were short of med techs.
The office door was open. Lukas stepped into a room that smelled like the inside of a deli case. Fire Chief Nuumi swiveled on his desk chair so that Lukas could see his breakfast spread out on a stained sheet of foil. Deeply bronzed smoked herring. And were those sunny-side-up eggs staring from atop a rutabaga mash? Ah, the Finns. With maybe a slender splice of Sault Ste. Marie Chippewa DNA, in Nuumi’s case.
“That from home?”
“Don’t concern yourself. What’n the shit did ya do in yer vehicle Saturday?” The Chief had actually put down his cutlery for this interrogation.
“Why are you asking me? Sherman obviously threw us under the bus.” Lukas handed over Kathy’s paperwork.
“Yes. Mr. Sherman Kaigebe was in here quite early. I found him ‘n’ Kathy in the vehicle with paper towel ‘n’ spray cleaner. This, after dey use it a whole shift yesterday an’ den Kathy roll it out with it for her double shift. I want to make sure I believe with my own two ears.”
“It’s probably all true. That knucklehead was supposed to clean it up extra nice Saturday night before anyone took it out again.” Lukas was tempted to make a show of turning to walk out, as if to go home. “Do I need to go over to City Office and consult with HR?”
“Well, I am tellin’ you that he miss a few spots. And, dare is no HR since from Covid-19. You know this. You are safe to work because of we’re short-handed, though maybe not for long.” Nuumi turned back to his desk which was ultra-neat except for the breakfast. “Maybe I gotta write ya a formal reprimand, I don’t know what, yet.”
“Yeah. I hear you found somebody to take a job? And, you need me to train this person.”
“Possible. Part-time. First, yer gonna sit down ‘n’ gimme details for the report, that I will try to dress it up.” He pointed to a metal folding chair hidden behind the door.
“We were ready for the afternoon to be done. Sherman had more to say than usual, mostly about how his stomach was growling and all the reasons why. His sister ate all the Pop Tarts or something. We’d just brought in Mrs. Curtis from out Tannery Rd. She stood up from her recliner too fast and passed out. There was curling on the TV when we came in. Maybe it lowered her blood-pressure. That’s how I feel about the sport, but to each his own. After that, we headed to Boardwalk Bar—a good spot there by the side for a quick take-off. I said, ‘Sherman go in, get a burger and fries or something, get you through the last couple hours.’ He puts on his Council Fire, ice-fishing face with the great cheek-bones and says: it’ll take twenty minutes. Why don’t we just move by somewheres I can just grab a candy-bar. Good,because you are not yourself when you’re hungry, I told him. Well, I thought it was funny. He must never look at television because it went right over his head.”
“So, then you moved up 94 across the bridge. It puzzles me dat if you two were so anxious for end-of-watch why you ditn’ just return to station.”
“Yeah, Chief. It musta been fate. It’s lucky we’re so conscientious.”
“Well, dat’s more detail than I get outta Sherman. He is often mostly stoic, you may have noticed.”
“Can I continue? We parked by that Mobile station up there that’s called Bait, Beer, Wine. They have the best heat-lamp cheesy bread in Schoolcraft County. Sitting on M94 north of town is strategic for making a run almost anywhere. Sherman comes out with a Payday bar and a bag of fucking green onion chips. I had my doubts he would return to being himself like in the commercial.
“Green onion in dat closed cab? I feel for yer pain.”
“This was when the call came from Sheriff’s Patrol Officer Clyde Heikala. He’s by himself, of course. He’s relaying a call from a cell-phone way up an old fire-break trail in Hiawatha National Forest toward Bear Slough. How is there even any cell coverage up there? Another miracle? Never mind, he’s gonna try’n respond. DNR was notified, too, but I don’t think they even carry a defibrillator.”
“Dey don’t. And, it’s violator season. Their cars could be twenty mile away in State land, bustin’ bait-piles.”
“Duly noted, but doesn’t matter. We take down the coordinates, light the lights and put peddle to metal. It looked like maybe fifteen miles to the trail-head. I made Sherman crack his damn window.
We made pretty good time. Our citizens don’t always move to the shoulder. Where we think the trail is, sure enough there’s a vehicle off to the side. It’s a Pontiac Vibe. No sign of Officer Heikala. Maybe the distressed individual could’ve put a medium sized deer in the cargo area of the Vibe. Looks like he’s got car-top carriers, too, but I doubt he’d lift a decent size animal up there by himself. We back into the two-track maybe a hundred yards and there’s the guy,on hands and knees, harnessed to a big, plastic kids toboggan. Well, that’s a pretty big buck riding on there. I don’t think I woulda left it behind either. A 10-point at least. Guy must have gutted it before he tried to head back out. When we find him, he’s still trying to go forward on his knees, screaming into the snow. He sees us, pitches down on his face. He’s not making it any further.”
“Christ, Yoopers, huh? Are you use to us by now? But, get to the part where you guys are heroic.”
“We haven’t been so far? And yeah, I’m almost acclimated. So, I assess the situation and see there’s blood soaking in the snow by his ankle. He’s left trail of blood. It has seeped out the pants-cuff of his orange coveralls. But, I can’t touch it without him screaming his head off.”
“So you see right off it’s the compound fracture.”
“Well, I had to assume. There’s lotsa blood, like I said, so it’s gonna be bad. Sherman already has a morphine outta the bag ready to stick the guy. I tell him to find the big clippers, too, so I can open up the boot for a better look. Turned out I’ve maybe seen a couple worse but they were from IEDs and there wasn’t much boot left to worry about. Guy’s on-and-off crying and trying to stifle. He’s really putting out the snot. ‘Give him two,’ I tell Sherman. ‘Low as you can.’ See, I don’t wanta clip that boot. I figure if we put him in la-la land then I can just unlace and pull it off. There’s a ratty wool stocking, too, once we get the boot clear. That’s gotta go. So then, yup, fibula sticking out, nearly down at the lateral malleolus. You know what that is, right? How the fuck did he manage to even do that? Gopher hole with a bear trap in it? We’re gonna need the board, I tell Sherman.”
“Snow was too deep for the gurney?”
“Whata you think? Ever push a shopping cart through six inches a slush? We wanta get him onto the board and then slide that up onto the gurney in the truck. First, I’ll bandage it, gauze it up really tight, get that fibula back in far as I can, then put an inflatable around it. Soon’s I can touch it without him passing out. I start thinking about a third morphine for the ride.”
“I don’t know about that, Pridemore. If he’s close ta goin’ in shock. But, okay, okay. Exemplary, so far. Now get to the part where you let dat deer ride with him. Have ya heard about dese dear-ticks, been a problem last twenty years?”
“Yeah, yeah. They’ve got ‘em below the Bridge, too. I knew it was fucked up, but the dude’s begging and crying that his family needs the meat. He’s not getting enough hours at the Casino and Christmas is coming. Well, why can’t we just leave it on your car-tops? Take us two minutes, get it up there and lashed.”
Then Sherman tries to be helpful: “Lukas, you know that deer will be gone by last call.”
“Thanks partner.” Now I’m really thinking about a third morphine so we can do it our way. Then this guy, drools out his name is Fred. His teeth are chattering between the tears. He offers us the meat. Wait. What about the poor starving kiddos at home? Turns out Fred just wants the rack. Sherman’s eyes get wide. He’s already on Fred’s side. Casino worker, right? Probably cultural affinities finding each other in the dark. Because by now it is dark. I give in because Sherman’s face looks like that brave who just found litter scattered along the roadside. ‘Alright, Fred.’ I decide. ‘You want us to load you first, or the buck?’”
“That’s all of it then? How did ya manage to make such a mess? Thinkin’ about ticks, I’m gettin’ upset all over again.”
“That buck got slid in next to the gurney on a severe tilt. He wasn’t lashed into the toboggan so great. He spills over on the first right-hand turn, which I admit, I was in get-out-of-our-way mode by then. Sherman’s on the other side loading blankets onto Fred. He’s got a saline drip started and he’s trying to warm up a plasma under his armpit. He can’t do anything about the buck. And again, Chief, let me repeat: he was supposedto go over the vehicle with a magnifying glass. I can’t wait tohave a word.”
“An’ so where’s da meat? I think I might be owed some back-straps just for my aggravation.”
“When I speak with that boy, I will clear up that mystery as well. You should be entitled to aportion.”
Chief Nuumi threw down his pen “It’s da right gesture, Pridemore. I think dat any further disciplinary action will just multiply our embarrassment. Dare was no harm, since dey transported no one yesterday. Ya prob’ly owe Kathy a few steaks, maybe some burger.”
“Of course. How could I refuse? So, where’s my new ride-along?”
The woman was standing in the door-glass behind Lukas. Chief Nuumi waved her in and Lukas scooted the folding chair out of the way so that she could enter.
“Lukas Pridemore, meet Nancy Kolocowski,” Chief Nuumi said. “She has fallen to us like some kinda angel from down the street at da hospital. Can ya believe it? Someone hears we are short of hand and steps to da forward. Nancy is a ER nurse.”
Lukas extended his hand to shake this Nancy’s gloved one. Her very white complexion had colored, he thought, with the Chief’s accolades. “You have seen it all, then. You’ve been cleaning up our catch-of-the-day.”
“Somethin’ like that, sure. You scale ‘em, we filet ‘em.” Nancy Kolocowski peeled the fur-trimmed hood of a military surplus coat back from a graying head of auburn blond hair. There was a green streak along the center part.
Alright, well. Christmassy, Lukas thought. “I hope you like how we roll and then we can get you for some more hours.”
“Hey, I’m just a conscientious citizen. Plus, relationships up here suck and I’ve got bills.”
The Chief stood up. He put a fresh log-sheet on the clipboard. “I’ll walk ya out ‘n’ have a look in dat vehicle.”
Lukas and Nancy Kolocowski mounted up. Lukas peeled his coat-sleeve back to check the time then entered it and hung the clipboard from the dash. He glanced over at his partner and didn’t have to tell her to buckle up. “There should be a utility belt with communications behind the seat. Just turn it on. Our channel should be open. Everything you might need is in there.” He hoped Sherman had replaced the morphine ampoules and that he had cleaned the heavy clothing scissors.
He saw that Nancy was carefully examining everything in the main fanny-pack.
“I guess it’ll do,” Chief Nuumi called into the open rear of the ambulance doors. He slammed them shut then slapped the metal twice for get moving.
Lukas wheeled out of the Fire Station, turned onto M94 and crossed the river. He turned north onto First Street. “We need to make a stop before we get to one of our rally spots. I need to speak with my other associate about the disposition of a certain trophy animal.”
Nancy placed her tool belt by her feet where warm air blew full blast from the passenger-side vent. “I heard somethin’ about that. Crazy. I thought to myself, where else?” She gave Lukas a quick, disarming smile. “I also thought, sounds like a cool crew.”
“Yeah?” Lukas pulled up to a well maintained doublewide mobile home in which resided Sherman Kaigebe with one mother and one sister. The place was enlarged by two additions and a few outbuildings. The dream-catcher on Sherman’s front door had been replaced with a Christmas wreath. “So, tell me this. How do you feel about venison?”
Nancy Kolocowski curled her lip slightly. “Luke warm, I would have to say. It’s kinda gamey, to me. I love it made into summer sausage or burger, though. With plenty of beef fat added in.”
“Well, okay then.” Lukas pulled up to the curb and switched on the amber caution flashers. “I’m gonna go in and place our order.”//
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chris Dungey is a retired auto worker in MI. He rides a mountain bike and a Honda scooter for the planet; follows Detroit City FC and Flint City Bucks FC with religious fervor. More than 97 of his stories have been published online or in litmags. Most recently in Revolver, Discretionary Love, New English Review, Post Box, Toasted Cheese, October Hill. and Bloomin’ Onion. His novel from ADP/Kindle is Evacuation Route; most recent collection from ADP/Kindle is We Won’t Be Kissing.
About the Author
