(A Continuation of the Knights of 51)
For some reason he couldn’t
sleep. He’d tried everything, flipping and turning on the narrow bunk.
He’d even tried counting sheep and when that hadn’t worked, tried
counting fire engines instead. Nothing worked. He knew he should be exhausted,
it was after two o’clock and they’d had more than ten runs that
day. His body felt tired, but his mind wouldn’t settle down and go to
sleep. It kept going in a dozen different directions.. Finally, he decided
to give up trying. Maybe if I go watch the late night movie it’ll
put me to sleep. Especially if it’s one of the cheesy horror flicks
that Chet likes so much. With his decision made, Stoker sat up and got
into his bunker pants and boots. As he pulled up the suspenders, he left
the dorm, trying to clomp as little as possible. Just because he was awake
didn’t mean everyone else had to be.
Stoker stopped off at the
refrigerator and rummaged briefly. Not seeing anything that he really wanted,
he closed the door and walked over to turn on the television. Since the volume
was turned down low, he pulled a chair up in front of it and sat down.
Well, it looks like I got lucky; it’s not Terror at the Library.. I
don’t think this is much better though. Let’s see what else is
on. Mike flipped through the channels, but found that all the other stations
were off the air. I guess this isn’t so bad after all, Mike thought
to himself, slouching down in his chair and leaning his head on his hand
to watch ‘A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court’. It
looks like it just started. Great, I hate missing the beginnings of movies.
Soon Mike became engrossed in the movie, but had to struggle to keep his
eyes open after a while.
The sounds of birdsongs
penetrated Mike’s hazy mind. He awakened slowly, at last opening his
eyes. They widened in surprise at the view presented. The station was gone,
replaced by a grassy meadow, and several large trees, one of which he was
leaning against. He looked in wonder at the fire engine red armor he wore.
I’m a knight! Was his first surprised thought. A horse’s
soft whicker caught his attention, and he turned to see a blood-bay horse
standing ten feet to his left, looking at him. A tuft of grass hung from
the side of its mouth, as it chewed slowly, unmindful of the bridle and bit
it wore.
“I guess you belong
to me,” Mike spoke, disrupting the early morning tranquility. Despite
the unfamiliar armor, he gracefully rose to his feet, grabbing his weapon
belt and fastening it around his waist. The sword thumped awkwardly against
his leg as he walked toward the horse. He had to hold it in order to mount,
which was done with the same unconscious gracefulness. The bay heaved a sigh
and raised its head as Mike tugged on the reins and thumped its ribs.
“I have no idea which
way to go,” Mike said thoughtfully after a few moments. “My Dad
always said, if you’re lost, to find a stream or river and follow it.
I don’t know if I’m lost, but it makes sense to me,” Mike
spoke quietly to himself, looking around in all directions for some sign
of running water. Across the lower end of the meadow he saw a narrow band
of trees where the grass appeared to grow darker. His horse seemed to be
heading in this direction, so Mike kept going. Riding through the trees,
Mike heard a gurgling sound. There must be a stream down here, I guess
this horse is smarter than he looks. Kind of like Chet. He couldn’t
help smiling at the thought, and wondered if he’d ever see the prank-playing
firefighter again. Or any of his other shift-mates, for that matter.
Stopping his horse a few
feet away from the stream, Mike dismounted and led the animal over to drink.
As the bay drank thirstily, Stoker knelt down and scooped up some of the
cold, clear, water in his hands and gulped it down.. Man, that’s
good! He looked at his horse, then lay down on his stomach, and copied
the animal’s actions. Why not? It’s not like there’s anyone
around to see me. I don’t think Miss Manners is lurking behind a tree
either. Several minutes later, Stoker got back on his horse and rode
along the stream. Slaking his thirst only made him realize how hungry he
was. He doubted he’d come across a burger stand along the way, and tried
to ignore the rumblings of his stomach.
Stoker figured he’d
ridden about two miles when he smelled smoke. Instantly alert, he scanned
the sky, looking for the telltale sign. Unfortunately, he was in a lightly
wooded area at the moment and couldn’t see anything. Concerned, he urged
his steed onward, at a trot, trying not to bounce too much in the saddle..
The trees ended a half-mile later and the stream widened, flowing into a
field.. The smell of smoke was much stronger now, and Mike could see it rising
into the air. He couldn’t see the source, because a low hill obscured
his view, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t from someone’s fireplace.
He rode faster, going up the hill, and halting at the top. Down below he
could see a small cottage, fully engulfed in flames. A small barn stood nearby,
and was becoming involved. Stoker’s heart leaped into his throat when
he saw a figure run inside the barn. He kicked the bay’s flanks and
raced down the hill. When they approached the burning buildings, the horse
stopped and snorted.. It didn’t want any part of the fire. Stoker slid
to the ground, and tied the reins to a nearby bush, then ran to the barn
as quickly as his armor allowed..
A woman came out of the barn,
coughing, and teary-eyed, as Mike approached. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
He asked, his blue eyes filled with concern.
“No! Our only cow is
in there! Please sir, help me get her out,” she beseeched him.
“I’ll get her;”
Mike made up his mind quickly, and ducked into the burning structure. The
cow was untied, but too terrified to move. It stared at him with big, brown,
liquid eyes, and mooed in fear. Stoker jerked off his cloak, and threw it
over the cow’s head. Then he took it by its lead rope and gave it a
slap on the rump. Startled, the cow moved forward, and Mike led it outside,
and away from the conflagration. As Stoker was bent over, coughing from the
smoke he had swallowed, the woman rushed up to him.
“You saved her! Oh thank
you kind sir, thank you!”
Mike lifted his head to look at her, and was surprised to see she was holding
a baby. He briefly wondered where it had been when he rode up, hoping that
he had come nowhere near to trampling it with his horse.
“You’re...welcome...”
Mike managed to say between coughs. He turned to look at the buildings that
were rapidly becoming consumed by flames.. I sure could have used Big
Red on this one. The woman left for a moment, returning with a dipperful
of water, which she offered to Mike.
“Here, ‘tis the
least I can do.”
“Thanks,” Mike
said, taking the dipper and draining it. His throat still felt raw. He decided
he didn’t miss being a firefighter, and preferred being an engineer.
“Is everyone safe?” He asked, noticing that the woman’s husband
was nowhere in sight.
“Yes, my lord. T’was
just I and my little one, and the cow,” the woman said, leading them
all toward the stream.
“Where’s your husband?
How did the fire start? Where will you go?” Mike suddenly asked, realizing
that they were in the middle of nowhere as far as he could tell, and that
the woman’s house no longer existed. She smiled slightly at his questions.
“My husband died last
year of the coughing sickness. I think the chimney caught fire and spread
very quickly. As for where we’ll go...Camelot is only a day’s journey
from here.”
“Camelot?” Mike
asked, slightly confused.
“Yes. Is it not where
you are going? You are the Red Knight are you not?” She asked. Mike
looked down at his fire-engine-red armor and attire, and glanced at his blood-bay
horse before answering.
“Uh, yeah, I am, but
you can call me Michael. Or Mike.”
“My name is Jaime. This
is my son, Tristan. May we come with you to Camelot?”
Mike looked around, seeing
nothing but grass, trees, and the stream. The house and the barn were rapidly
becoming nothing but smoldering ruins. Luckily the fire hadn’t spread
to anything else. He was glad they wouldn’t have to deal with a brush
fire on top of everything else.
“What about your cow?”
He asked.
“We can take her with
us if you aren’t in a hurry,” Jaime said.
“No, I don’t suppose
I am,” Mike sighed, leading them all over to his horse. He lifted Jaime
onto the horse, along with the baby, and tied the cow’s lead rope to
the saddle. He took the reins and led the bay, walking alongside its head.
Once again he followed the stream.
“Why do you not use
the road? ‘Tis much more direct,” Jaime said, giving Mike a puzzled
look.
“Uhhhh...I like the
water,” Mike said, thinking quickly to come up with a reason that
wasn’t too lame sounding.
“You are a strange man
Michael,” Jaime said, and then flushed with embarrassment, realizing
she had just insulted one of King Arthur’s knights.
“You’re not the
first to say that,” Stoker said, and smiled slightly. He nodded at the
baby. “Your Tristan is well behaved isn’t he? How old?”
“He is a bonnie lad
is he not?” Jaime asked, smiling proudly. “He will be one year
old next week.” Jaime looked down at her sleeping son. “Have you
a family, my lord?”
“Not yet,” Mike
said. Or maybe I do, and I just don’t know it! He became his
usual reticent self, while Jaime also stayed quiet. Their journey was slow,
because the cow didn’t move very quickly.
They were in a small grove
of trees when the attack occurred. Mike would have been caught unaware if
he hadn’t happened to turn his head and see a metallic flash of reflected
light. Without conscious thought his hand went down and drew his sword. With
his free hand he pulled loose the lead rope of the cow, then slapped his
bay on the rump.
“Jaime, go! Ride for
Camelot, and Arthur!” He commanded. Several men suddenly appeared from
behind some nearby trees. The closest one moved in to attack.. Stoker brought
his blade up to parry the clumsy thrust. Startled, the bay took off, running
through the trees. Jaime clutched her baby tightly, and tried to stay in
the saddle at the same time. Another of their attackers reached for the bridle,
but his hand caught nothing but empty air. Jaime cast one anxious look over
her shoulder, and saw that four brigands surrounded Stoker. She didn’t
want to leave him given the poor odds, but knew there was nothing she could
do to help.
Mike used the sword without
consideration, attacking and defending by instinct. He wouldn’t allow
himself to think about what he was doing, or how. He just concentrated on
letting what skills he had carry him through. When his first attacker went
down, covered in blood, Mike refused to dwell on the reason why. There were
others to be dealt with now. He moved with the fluidity and precision of
a ballet dancer, caught up in his struggle for survival. Despite the unbelievable
circumstances he had found himself in, Mike knew without a doubt that he
was fighting for his life. As his second opponent collapsed, bloody and crying
out in pain, Stoker felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t
sure how long he could go on. The two remaining highwaymen gave him no time
for reflection as they doubled their efforts. Step by step they drove him
backwards, as he was forced to parry their sword thrusts rather than go on
the offensive. In the back of his mind he was aware that they were trying
to drive him toward the stream, and in fact, started to feel the ground beneath
him slope downward.
I’m gonna die here,
I just know it. Well, if I can’t outfight them maybe I can outthink
them. Mike unexpectedly felt his foot hit something solid, and caught
off balance, tripped. He barely saw the fallen tree as he went tumbling to
the ground, and panic set in. I’m done for now! They’re gonna
kill me! That was his last thought, as the ground seemed to rush up to
meet him.
Mike woke up as his body
hit the floor with a thud, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. His
breathing was rapid, and his body was covered with a light film of sweat.
It was just a dream! Oh man, am I glad of that! Mike picked himself
up off the floor, pushing aside the chair he had fallen out of. Then he turned
off the television set which was broadcasting nothing but snow now. Over
on the couch, Henry raised his head and gave Stoker a look as if chastising
the fireman for disturbing his doggy slumber. Just then the lights went on
and the tones sounded.. A few moments later he heard the voice of the
dispatcher.
“Station 51, Engine
36, respond to a structure fire at 17855 Cardiff Road. 17855 Cardiff Road.
Cross Street Somerset. Time out 0325.”
Stoker ran for the engine,
grabbed his turnout coat which was hanging on the mirror, opened the door
and climbed behind the wheel. Seconds later everyone was aboard and they
were on their way. The location was less than ten minutes away. It turned
out to be a small theatre. Mike jumped out to handle the pumps, while the
other guys pulled lines. Roy and Johnny went in with an inch and a half,
followed by Marco and Chet. The firemen from Engine 36 had two lines of their
own, and shortly the fire in the single-level building was brought under
control.
Roy cut off the spray from
the nozzle and followed Johnny as his partner made his way out of the prop
room. Johnny had just reached the doorway when Roy got his feet tangled in
some debris and crashed to the floor.
“Are you okay?”
Johnny asked, turning to look as he heard the thud of a falling body on
wood.
“I’m all right,”
Roy replied, getting to his feet and picking up the hose again. “Guess
I wasn’t watching where I was walking.” He rubbed his knee and
looked down, seeing a broadsword lying nearby. He figured this was what had
tripped him up. Roy vaguely wondered why the sword looked familiar as he
continued over to his partner. He glanced backward once more before following
Johnny outside and back to the engine. Five minutes later the incident was
forgotten as they involved themselves in the business of repacking the hose
and cleaning up.
May 2000 Laura Gabbard
An interesting note to add to this if you believe in coincidence. When I
started this story I got out my copy of ‘A Connecticut Yankee in King
Arthur’s Court’, turned it over to look at the back and interestingly
enough, found the Universal logo there. Funny, huh?
Thanks again to Carol for her help on this one and for prodding me along.
Thanks also to my “Stoker expert” Taffy.
Catch a ride back to the Flight Deck!
