Accidental Hero Ch. 01-04

"Oh, that's great, Dad. Thanks a lot. I didn't have any luck at the grocery store or the car wash. Everyone seems to have hired someone and most of them are older than me."

"I don't think this will be an easy job, Ian. I suspect you'll be spending a lot of time on the dumb end of a shovel."

"That's okay, Dad. I'll do what I can to earn the job."

He nodded. "I know you will, Ian. I told Mr. Fosdick to expect your call."

"How come you know him, Dad?"

"Do you remember old Mrs. McGonagall, the lady who nearly ran down Kelsey?"

"Sure, what about her?"

"Well, Mr. Fosdick is her son-in-law and feels he owes you for preventing a horrible accident that would have destroyed the poor old lady. She's gone now, but Bud Fosdick has never forgotten how close she came to tragedy. So, there you go. Your good deed is being paid back, some years later."

"Wow, that's amazing. I would never have thought anyone would remember that," I said, shaking my head in wonder.

"You underestimate just how meaningful what you did was to other people. Kelsey never forgot, and your mother and I have never forgotten. It's a small thing someone can do for a person who has done a huge thing for them. Take it in the spirit it's offered, Ian. You've earned it."

"Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot. I'll do a good job for Mr. Fosdick."

"I'm sure you will, Ian," Dad smiled.

~*~

Well, I'd made a promise to Dad that I'd do a good job, but three months later I wondered how smart that was. I did get one big benefit from all the hard work I did on the work crew. I had muscles where there were no muscles before. At sixteen years old, I stood five-eleven-and-a-half and weighed one-eighty. We were supposed to be using the metric system, but I never bothered. For me, it was still feet and inches, pounds and ounces, and gallons and quarts. I was going to wait until I had to change before I worried about it.

I had a great tan, having worked a good part of the summer shirtless. So, for all my hard work there was a reward besides the nice paycheck I earned. I was getting a lot of attention from the girls. When I walked down the hallway my first day of grade eleven that September, I got a lot of second looks, and not all of them were from girls.

It was still warm as late summer often is in our area, so I had a short sleeved shirt on. I noticed that it was a bit snug compared to how it had been last June. I was going to have to get some new clothes. I noticed my pants seemed a little shorter than I remembered, so I guessed I'd had another growth spurt.

I connected with Chug and Pigpen before they headed off to football practice. Both of them said I didn't look anything like the Ian they knew at the end of last year. Well, I hadn't seen much of them over the summer as I worked and saved my money towards someday owning my own car.

Mr. Fosdick said he was very pleased with the job I did and I was invited to work part time when I went back to school. I grabbed at that and thanked him. Now I would have gas and date money.

That summer was hard work, but when I think back on it, it was good for me. I was in good shape, stronger than I'd ever been, and feeling good about having a job.

Chug thought I should come out for football as a walk-on. I said thanks but no thanks. I had other plans. I would be at the works yard on Saturday and holiday weekends checking off loads as they went out, thanks to Mr. Fosdick. A much easier job. Between that and my studies, I would have plenty to do and organized sports wasn't part of it. I couldn't make any money at sports.

I had saved enough to buy nice Christmas presents for my family, and I sent a little gift by mail to Kelsey to remind her I was still thinking of her. I didn't hear anything back from her, however. I did write to her over the summer, but only got a couple of letters in reply, telling me about their new home and the nice country club her parents now belonged to. I got the feeling that our short friendship had fizzled out more quickly than we thought. I wouldn't forget her, but I wasn't so sure she would remember me.

I was battling acne now, something I detested. There wasn't a thing I could do about it, either. I just had to live with it until it went away. I was lucky that it wasn't a really bad case, but I couldn't wait until it disappeared. Mom was very sympathetic, but didn't have any answers either. On the other hand, it didn't stop a few of the girls in my classes from coming on to me.

"Hi, Ian, remember me?" I heard as I was opening my locker after school one day.

I turned and smiled. "Sure Rhonda, I remember you. How are you?

"I'm fine. How are you? I hear Kelsey moved away," she said, eyeing me up and down.

"Yeah. She's moved to Toronto. I don't suppose I'll see her again."

"Aw, that's too bad," she said with a slight smirk, indicating she didn't mean a word of it.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "I can see you're all torn up about it. So what are you up to?"

"I'm up to finding a new boyfriend. I hear you're quality material. Are you interested?"

"What happened to Timber Tom?"

"That rat! He found another girlfriend this summer and didn't bother to tell me. So I'm a free agent again." This time, the smile was a good deal more interesting.

Rhonda had a bit of a reputation for being both easy and very demanding. I wasn't in the market for easy or demanding at that time. I suspect Timber Tom Sharpe had probably tired of her and had moved on. Why she was interested in me I could not figure out.

"So tell me, Rhonda, why me?" I tried, stalling for time. How was I going to say no?

"Have you looked in the mirror lately Ian. You're a hunk ... and girls are always interested in hunks."

Now I'm the first to admit I'm a real rookie when it comes to being around girls and knowing what they're up to. Rhonda was telling me I looked good, and that was enough for her. There was no doubt she was good looking ... hell, she was hot. But she definitely wasn't my type ... whatever that was. I just couldn't come up with a line that wouldn't be blunt, so I told the truth.

"I'm sorry, Rhonda. I don't see myself with you. You belong with the older guys. Hell, you're almost a full-grown woman. You don't want to hang out with a kid like me."

I don't think anyone had ever turned her down before, and this came as quite a shock to her. I was ready for some verbal abuse, but it never came. She had a wide-eyed look about her that said she was caught totally unprepared for my rejection. She just turned and walked away, saying nothing. I was just as surprised at her reaction as she was at my rejection. I'd heard it said by a lot of guys that they'd never understand women, and I was beginning to realize just what they meant.

I wouldn't have minded finding a girlfriend, but all the ones who I might have been interested in I was comparing to Kelsey. Kelsey wasn't complicated at all. She was exactly the kind of girlfriend I wanted. Nice to be with, interested in me and what we could do together, and loyal. I never had the feeling she wasn't totally satisfied being with me. Finding another Kelsey was not going to be easy.

~*~

It was after Thanksgiving that my next little adventure came about. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was in the works yard, waiting for the next load of gravel to be sent to the latest sink hole. We'd had an epidemic of these holes showing up in some of the older city streets and it kept our guys hopping to keep up with them. Most of the trouble related to old water lines leaking and eventually eroding the soil around the lines. When enough rain and enough pressure from traffic was put on the area, the roadway collapsed. I got quite an education on ageing infrastructure that fall.

Anyway, truck number 113D was scheduled out next, but hadn't made an appearance yet. When it was fifteen minutes later than it should have been, I got on the walkie-talkie to the yard and tried to raise someone, but got no response. I was about to walk down the driveway to the yard when I heard an explosion, then saw a fireball rise above the roof of the maintenance shed. I froze. What the hell should I do?

I don't know how long it took me to act, but I ran back to the shack, grabbed the phone and dialed 0 for the operator. I reported the explosion and told them we needed a fire truck and probably an ambulance right away. I got a calm, professional response and was told the message would be relayed to the fire department. Then I called Mr. Fosdick's home number. There was no answer, but I left a message on his answering machine telling him about the explosion and that I'd called the operator to get help.

There was only one other thing I could do and that was to run toward the site of the blast and see what had happened and if I could do anything useful. As I rounded the corner of the maintenance shed, I was horrified at what I saw. Truck 113D was on fire, and I could see a body lying beside it. My first instinct was to pull that body away from the fire and I raced in that direction. As I got closer, I could feel the heat, but I couldn't quit now.

The man on the ground was covered in black soot and his clothes were either scorched or missing. Luckily, his leather belt was still around his waist and I grabbed it and dragged him as far away from the fire as I could. He wasn't conscious, but he had a pulse and my first aid training kicked in. I turned his head and cleared his airway before I began mouth-to-mouth. I willed myself to be calm and keep doing what I was doing at a steady pace.

I don't know how long it was before I heard sirens and knew the professionals were on the way. As I stayed with the man, I realized who it was. Jack Delaney was an old hand in the yard and wasn't far from retirement. He had a sick wife at home and now he was in trouble himself. I had to do everything possible to keep him alive.

The first units to arrive were the fire crews and the rescue truck was right on their heels. Two of the rescue guys rushed over to me and I moved back out of the way.

"Has there been any response from him," one of the guys asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing so far."

"How long have you be working on him?" he asked.

"I don't know for sure. Maybe ten minutes."

He nodded. "Okay, we've got a pulse and we're giving him oxygen. We'll transport him to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrives. You did all you could for him, Kid."

"I hope it was enough," I said, praying it was.

The ambulance came rolling into the area and a man and woman alighted from it and got a quick report from the fire rescue guy. They had him on a gurney and on his way to the hospital in quick time. But Jack Delaney wasn't the only guy in the yard at the time. The loader operator was there as well. What had happened to him?

"There should be another guy around here somewhere," I told the fire rescue guys. "We need to look for him."

"Where would he be?" they asked.

"Follow me," I said and took off on the run toward the loader.

"The truck was full and was on his way out when the explosion occurred," I told them. "That probably means the operator wouldn't be on the machine. We need to look around for him."

The three of us fanned out and began a search for the man. If he was anywhere near the blast, he could have been sent flying. Or, he might have run for cover to avoid the blast. I tried to remember who was on shift that afternoon and it finally came to me.

"We're looking for Carlos Montoya, guys," I yelled. "Carlos ... can you hear me? Carlos ... can you hear me?" I yelled at the top of my voice. No answer.

"Keep looking guys," I said. "He's got to be here somewhere."

I was working my way back into the shed where the gravel and sacks of cement were stored. The sacks were all on pallets and placed in rows where a forklift could get to either side. That left gaps between the pallets and that's where I started my search. It wasn't long before I spotted the crumpled body of the operator, lying between two stacks of empty pallets.

"Over here, guys! Over here! Hurry!" I screamed at the top of my voice.

A few seconds later one of the rescue guys arrived and the second was only a moment behind him.

"I haven't moved him," I told them. "I can't feel a pulse."

"Leave it to us, kid," the older of the two guys said. "You've done your job. Go find a place to sit for a while. We'll let you know how it all turns out."

"Thanks," I said as I walked slowly out of the shed and toward my gate shack. I suppose anyone could have sneaked into the yard while I was gone, but with all of the ambulance, fire and police equipment around, it wasn't likely. I got back to the shack and sat, my hands shaking and my stomach churning. I'd never seen anything like this before and I hoped I'd never see it again.

It was about that time that a couple of the TV vans from the local stations arrived on the scene. I briefly thought about keeping them from entering, but then decided that the police could handle them. It was going to be on the news anyway, so I doubt I could have stopped them if I wanted to.

I pulled a can of root beer from the little cooler under the desk and opened the top. It was cold and it tasted better than I expected. I was beginning to calm down and took a few deep breaths as I did. I tried to think of what else I could do when I saw Mr. Fosdick's car arrive as he stopped by the shack.

"What happened, Ian? Are you alright?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes Sir, I'm okay. As far as I can figure, something caused truck 113D to explode. I called for help right away and then left a message for you. Then I ran toward the explosion and saw a body on the ground near the burning truck. It was Jack Delaney and I dragged him away from the fire and then started mouth-to-mouth on him. I guess it was a few minutes later that the firemen arrived followed by the ambulance and the police. Last I heard, Jack was still breathing when they took him away.

"Carlos Montoya was the loader operator and we couldn't find him right away. The blast must have sent him flying because I found him lying among the stacks of empty pallets in the shed. I couldn't find a pulse, so I'm worried that maybe he didn't make it, Sir."

Bud Fosdick sat back in the shack's chair. He looked to be in shock. He looked at me and then away at all the equipment in the yard. He didn't seem to know quite what to do next.

"Sir, the TV crews are here. I'm sure they'll be after you for some information. Maybe it would be better to avoid them for now," I suggested.

He shook his head. "No ... I can't do that. This is my yard and it's my responsibility. My first duty is to find out how my employees are and then see if we can determine the cause of the blast.

If you are approached, Ian, don't say anything about who was involved. I need to phone the families before the news people get all over this. I'm sure the police will want a statement from you, so I'm sorry, but you'll have to stick around. Maybe you should phone your parents and let them know you are okay."

I nodded. "Thanks for reminding me. They'll soon hear about the explosion and I don't want them worrying."

I made the call and luckily, my folks hadn't heard about the explosion yet. I let them know I was fine, but would be staying to give the police and fire department a statement. I wasn't sure what I could tell them, but I would stay anyway. Mr. Fosdick had wandered off, leaving his car by the shack, heading toward the scene. I saw him introduce himself to one of the police officers who was keeping the TV crews outside the blast area. I wondered what would cause a truck to explode like that.

It was early evening when I got home. I had come down from the fear and adrenaline of the afternoon. I even had a slight appetite, satisfied by Mom making me some soup and a ham and cheese sandwich. By then I knew that Carlos had not survived and was pronounced dead at the scene. I don't think that had quite registered on me yet. I did wonder if I had gone looking for him sooner if we might have saved him, but from what the fire department guys told me, he was pretty busted up and was probably killed outright by the blast.

I was only home long enough to have a shower and eat my dinner when the phone rang. It was Channel 12 news and they wanted an interview. I told them I wasn't able to talk to them and they could direct all questions to the city office, just as Mr. Fosdick had requested. That wasn't good enough for them, however, and they persisted, wanting to find out what I did and what the explosion was caused by. I told them no one knew yet what caused it and they'd best talk to the fire department or our office for more information. Finally, they gave up.

"I don't think I'm going to sleep very well tonight," I told my dad. "That's the first time I've ever seen a dead body and I hope I never see another. If only I'd been able to find Carlos sooner."

"You can't be blaming yourself, Ian. I talked to Mr. Fosdick just before you got home. Apparently the fire rescue people credit you with saving Jack Delaney's life. You acted quickly to get help, contacted your boss, and then went to help others. I can't think of anything you might have done that would have changed the outcome. You've acted like a hero once again. I don't know where that comes from Ian, but it seems to be natural for you. I just shake my head in wonder. You are something special," he said with a smile and damp eyes.

I was too tired to argue with him about the hero tag, so I didn't. I sure didn't feel like a hero. I said goodnight to them and headed for my room. Despite my worries about being able to sleep, I was out before my head hit the pillow. I slept for the next nine hours straight. Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny, but it didn't do much for my mood. The death of Carlos Montoya was a terrible thing and I was sick about it. I was there and I would always question myself about what more I might have done that would have saved him. No matter how many times I went over it, I couldn't think of anything that might have made a difference.

That wasn't the end of it, of course. The Fire Marshall wanted to talk to me, the police wanted to talk to me, and of course, the TV and radio people wanted to talk to me. I wondered why until I heard the Sunday evening news. Once again, I was being hailed as a hero. I had saved a man's life and acted in a positive manner to get help and direct the rescue crews to the right location. Yeah ... right. I pointed and yelled, "Over there."

But more worrying was the Workman's Compensation Board descending on us to investigate the accident. There was nothing left of the truck to speak of, but they had a team of guys go over it to see what might have caused it to blow up. They knew that it was the fuel tank under the door step to the cab, but there was so little left of the area that I doubted they could determine what had happened.

Anyway, they came back and handed the city a report that said they were convinced the works department had not kept the truck in good order and should be held responsible. A couple of years later, Bud told me that when he was handed the WCB findings, he pulled out the last two year's budget requests and that truck, among others, was on the list for replacement. The city budget office, in their infinite wisdom, had chopped the new trucks off the list and Bud was told to make do with what he had. Then he handed his boss a full copy of the maintenance and work schedule on truck 113D, proving that they had taken all the necessary steps to keep the truck in safe condition. That ended the problem, although it didn't bring Carlos Montoya back to life. The true cause of the explosion was never determined.

Chapter 4 Symphony

I explained to the various people who wanted to talk to me about the explosion that I had school on Monday and that, with their permission, I would make myself available after classes. That seemed to satisfy them. The Fire Marshall said he would meet me at the school at four o'clock and we could do the interview there. I wasn't so sure that was a great idea, but I was too tired to argue. I just wanted to get all this over with.