First Responders

We were in position, watching, waiting. We didn’t know what was about to happen but we were prepared, we always were. Our orders never varied, always present at major or minor catastrophes it was our job to do recovery work. We were the first responders. It was our singular responsibility to serve mankind. In contrast, our counterparts munching on snacks, were across from us in gleeful anticipation of whatever upcoming event we were here for.

While we were surveying the rush hour traffic make it’s way across the bridge and conjecturing what our assignment would end up being, we felt the earth move, it was barely perceptible but it did move. We waited a few more seconds on full alert now, in fight or flight mode. There it was or rather wasn’t. The bridge we had been studying collapsed, metal beams cracking, cement splashing into the river, cars rolling down and vanishing into the foaming liquid, other cars spiraling down to the embankment below piling up on top of each other, upside down and side ways being transformed from shiny metal to unrecognizable salvage heaps. The preceding sounds were ghastly, cars honking, alarm systems blaring, people screaming, debris flying. Blood pouring. Cement dust and mud covering everything. Our counterparts jumping up and down gratified, they were loving it!

People surfacing on the river looked about in shock. Some caught sight of us immediately and gasped as we waved them over, other people, blind to us, swam to the shore, pulling loved ones with them. A dog had his teeth on the bottom of a toddlers training pants pulling the sputtering child to safety. I praised the canine for his devotion and he almost barked at me in response before he realized he’d loose his mouthful. I gently encouraged him in his good deed willing him the strength to succeed. A man reached down, grabbing the tot and hugging his furry pet. One of the man’s arms dangled oddly at his side, apparently relief over the recovery of his son wiped out the sensation of pain. Relief and love are better than morphine! I bet that dog was going to get the best cut of meat from the dinner table from hence forth! He’d probably even be buried in the family plot!

I dove into the murky water searching for more survivors, finding some souls by a severely demolished van trying to get the lifeless bodies inside free. I motioned for them to follow me up. They were in total denial not willing to leave the bodies behind but they eventually realized the situation was in vain and did as I directed them, meeting up with my friends and the other survivors on the banks above. Air bubbles were coming up from a jeep deeper down, diving to it I cracked the window and waited till the last denizen floated up and was seized by other survivors.

I was pulled toward an upside down Toyota, occupied by a woman and her daughter, by the mother’s earnest cries to God. Mom was frantically trying to open the door unsuccessfully, I could feel her overwhelming panic. With barely a touch to the handle, I opened the door and watched as the two jetted to the surface hand in hand where they were aided to land. New help had arrived with medical equipment and treated her cuts and abrasions, checked her daughter over and went on to the other injured. Triaging the injured. Eight bodies were being lined up and covered, there was no earthly help available to them. Those I had propelled to my group held each others hands staring at the dead in amazement, conscious of their good fortune. Our counterparts jeered, hurling rocks and sticks our way but not venturing close.

A school bus crammed with crying kids was precariously positioned on the edge of the broken overpass. Our counterparts were gleefully waiting for it to topple fifty feet down to the bridges remaining skeletal frame where the occupants would be dashed into pieces. They thrived on misery and chaos. Summoning several of my colleagues to assist me, we grabbed the rear bumper and held on for dear life as the bus driver briskly evacuated his passengers, with the help of everyday heroes while the odious onlookers cursed the rescue of the blameless kids. Not a single middle school-er was lost or injured. Not one cut or scratch. Now that’s a miracle! Plus they would have a good excuse for not having their homework done tomorrow. There is always a silver lining if you look for it!
My team had done all we could do for now so we stood back to let our co-workers, the paramedics, do their job. They were skilled in their profession, working without emotion, distancing themselves from the upheaval this disaster had created in the lives of so many innocent citizens. Without that detachment they would be useless. Calm experienced objectivity was a necessity for them to perform well.

Eventually we wandered about looking for more survivors. Displaced souls, kneeling by lifeless bodies and looking about in confusion were relieved to see us and accept our invitation to join the group we had collected. Then we heard the now expected. After years of doing this vocation we would never get used to this aspect of it. The accusations, the blaming, the anger. All directed upwards. To God. Why did he let this happen? Where was he? What was his problem? The evil cohorts who were opposed to our intercessions, mingled with the walking wounded and encouraged them to blaspheme God, whispering more fabrications about his faithfulness into their ears. These accusations in turn escaped bleeding lips in strings of profanities, that reached the heavenly throne, causing pain. Yes God has feelings! I clutched one woman staggering about, hands covering her ears from the hideous cries around her, and tried to reason with her, attempting very earnestly to get her attention but, my words went right through her as she looked past me, as though I wasn’t there. I hoped however I had planted a seed that would take root once she recovered from shock.

Helicopters hovered overhead, broadcasting the disaster on life T.V. Spectators gathered on nearby overpasses. Some offered welcome help, prayers. Others were just voyeurs like the ancient Romans at the coliseum, drawn by the smell of blood. Vehicles sped to the scene, stopping blocks away. Parents raced up to the wreckage looking for their children who rushed to meet them. There was much rejoicing, hugging, joyful crying and God praising. However I knew if the circumstance had been less than desirable for these parents different words would be pouring from their mouths. It’s true, sweet and bitter words come from the same mouth, but not the same hearts.

As every thing started to settle down, I rallied our eight survivors. They were hanging back, eyeing the eight bodies that were being covered with tarps, unable to find tears to shed. Granted, eight wasn’t very many considering the huge volume traveling over the bridge this afternoon. I looked at the others on the shoreline and in the ambulances, who had benefited from our help; hundreds. Dozens of school children, rush hour commuters, perplexed pets scuttling around refusing the help of strangers, looking for their human family- and finding them! Bandages were applied to arms, heads, legs. Faces scratched. Not bad, only eight. And the hurt asked where was God? He was on his throne commanding his army. He had issued orders for us to lend a hand, and a few wings, which we did in our usual manner, quickly and without question. When he said jump, we jumped. No need to ask questions. Just eight? Only eight? Eight very lucky souls would be accompanying us home, their home, prepared years ago. Not bad for a days job.

Why did this happen? The present world is as full of misfortunes as it has been since Adam and Eve disappointed God and their unborn family. God has nothing to do with every disaster that befalls man. The fallen and frail nature of humanity is to blame. But God is responsible for us First Responders, and he uses us wisely and fairly. The eight that we are bringing home with us today have no complaints. A few of us will linger behind to comfort their families. Our wicked counterparts scattered back to hide under their rocks with their close relatives, the snakes, and sulk. This wasn’t the ending they had hoped for. Our survivor count of eight disappointed them tremendously since they had netted no trophies. No souls would be tortured by them as a result of this particular calamity. Praise be to God, now and forever. Our eight survivors and my team ascended upward towards the light, pain free and elated.

The Break In

It was time for a good nights sleep. My daughter Cindy and I were on our way home from visiting with my husband at his job site this week and were staying in our usual hotel. The manager knew us personally after all our visits here so we always got first rate attention. It was like a home away from home with more hired help.

Cindy was spread out on her bed, long brown hair flowing over the pillow, snoring enthusiastically with our dog Scruffy, it was hard-pressing to determine who was snoring the best. He had his little terrier head on the small of her back and was sawing twigs to her logs.
I was facing the foot of my bed watching a pay for view movie that I’d already seen at the theaters. I wasn’t going to pay for a movie I hadn’t seen yet as I always fell asleep mid way through. I just wasn’t sleepy yet. Could it have something to do with the enormous dinner I scarfed up in the dining room? I couldn’t be rude to the chef who kept placing temptations in front of me. The spirit was willing to resist but the flesh craved nourishment. He always liked to provide me with a sample of all his cuisine and I enjoyed being his guinea pig.

Less than halfway into the movie I began to loose control of my eyelids. If there was a battle to stay awake, I was waving a flag in sublime surrender when I heard the adjoining door unlatch and my lids flew open. A baldhead popped in, craned around the entrance and led a full body into my boudoir. I had to be imagining this. Nope. There he stood, all six feet plus of him. Totally muscled. Totally bald. Totally black. Totally dressed….in a pair of red silk boxer shorts with white hearts splattered over them. Or…they were white silk shorts with a red background. I no longer felt sleepy. Adrenalin was rushing through my vascular system. The fight or flight response had been activated. I lay there, on my stomach facing him, aware that I was propped up on my elbows revealing cleavage. How could I be so immodest in the privacy of my own room! Sometimes I just don’t think.

“Hey,” my visitor greeted me. “Do you come here often?”
‘Uh, yeah.” I answered, wearily, as he walked around the room taking things in, not literally, as he had no pockets. No pockets meant he probably had no concealed weapons. This made me a little calmer. I couldn’t help but observe he had the most developed latisimus dorsi muscles I’d ever seen. (back muscles)

“This room is nicer than mine,” he announced plopping down in the corner chair and crossing his legs. As well developed as his back was, his thigh and calf muscles were undersized.

It appeared he was going to be here for a while. He was getting comfortable. I was getting just the opposite. What should I do? Trying to appear nonchalant, I pulled my pillow to my neck and wrapped my arms about it to conceal my chest. I was wearing more clothes than my visitor was at any rate. This didn’t make me feel any more relieved.

I looked over my shoulder at Cindy and Scruffy. Scruffy had awakened and was dividing his attention between the chair and me. Nothing on his body was twitching or moving, he was motionless except for his eyes. Don’t bother to bark or help me out here old buddy, I mused. He would bark at the flea on a squirrel’s back, but let a stranger into his zone and he just lies there. I’m glad I didn’t buy him as a watchdog; I’d have to ask for a refund. If he would just bark the manager would come to investigate, Scruffy was only allowed if I promised he wouldn’t create a disturbance for the other guests. Come on Scruffy, disturb, I’m willing to break my agreement!

“You know, you should be more careful. You don’t know who could wander in here,” My companion stated the obvious. “They have great room service here; I think I’ll order something up for us, what would you like?”

“Oh, anything!” Great plan I told myself. The receptionist would know I was here with just my daughter, surely, she would send help. I’m glad I thought of that. I hope that young receptionist with the perfect teeth; hair and makeup would have some sense. Please don’t let her assume I was having a clandestine meeting with some strange man. That would be just my luck; my reputation doesn’t need any interceptions.


My guest made the call, ordered some goodies, and hung up. We conversed awkwardly while I waited for the Calvary to come to my rescue. (Awkward for me, he was perfectly serene.)
Scruffy had gone back to sleep. Cindy could sleep through a tornado and land in Oz without breaking a sweat. I was in this alone. Yet…I oddly didn’t feel a sensation of doom. I had started feeling….safe. That was bizarre.

The door to the hallway opened. Another uninvited soul thrust his head in. I gasped, (gasp.)
This person was wearing a ski mask to conceal his face, leather gloves, and was carrying a bag. Were Cindy, Scruffy and I breathing the last of our allotted oxygen supply? Was I the only one scared? This last thought came to me as a series of exceptionally loud snores vibrated from Cindy’s bed stirring the nearby curtains. I guess so.

Ski Mask started towards me then caught sight of Silk Shorts in the corner, stopping in his tracks. They shared a staring contest. Ski Mask hadn’t expected three victims. He hadn’t counted on the third victim being nonplussed by his appearance. Ski Mask started to sweat. I could see moisture penetrating the face covering. Silk Shorts kept his cool, controlling everything with just the look in his eyes. I bet if he had kids they never got out of line, those eyes could hypnotize lions. Scruffy roused and started barking. Ski Mask turned on his heels and ran out of the room. I screamed. Cindy woke up, slowly. Scruffy lunged off the bed chasing Ski Mask out the door. Finally! Wait! He only weighs ten pounds with all his hair; Ski Mask had better not hurt him! I was in hot pursuit. Cindy groggily in bed shaking cobwebs from her brain.

I was going to protect my dog but who was going to protect me! Big strong looking Silk Shorts never came out of the room. Sure, they all look packaged good, but inside they are just wusses, using their physique just for show.

Pandemonium broke loose in the corridor. “My” midnight snack was flung over polished ceramic, it’s delivery man sprawled out on top of chicken sandwiches and hot cocoa. Ski Mask lost his balance after colliding with Deliveryman and slipped on the slippery surface toppling on top of Delivery Man. A struggle ensued. I picked up the serving tray and waited for the correct head to be targeted. Bang! Delivery Man yelped as his shoulder was smacked. Scruffy was prancing around under my feet snipping here and there. Ski Mask oozed blood from tiny puncture marks. Tiny but effective. Good old Scruffy. Doors up and down the hall opened. Security Man, an authentic gun toting off duty police officer, tore around the corner, shouting, “Halt! Police!” Nothing stopped. No one paid any attention to the armed man waving a firearm. We all were caught up in our own agenda. More help arrived. I was bear hugged and pulled aside, presumably for my safety but more likely for Delivery Man’s protection. Ski Mask was hoisted to his feet drenched in hot cocoa and wearing chicken salad on his skull, Delivery Man gripped his injured shoulder and glared at me, muttering that minimum wage wasn’t enough for this. He brushed lettuce off his mayonnaise stained trousers.

“Sorry,” I managed. I was just trying to lend a hand, or rather serving tray.

Security Man frisked Ski Mask for weapons and found a key card that fit our door. Cindy finally joined the gathering and recognized the card as her’s. She thought she had misplaced it in the room but had probably been lax enough with it that Ski Mask had appropriated it from her unawares. This wasn’t the first time she was careless with things, always misplacing keys, money, books…the list goes on. Besides, he was a professional, but since he had been caught by chicken salad and hot cocoa he unmistakably needed some more practice.

I started my story from the beginning, when Silk Shorts, who was now notably absent, came into my room and ordered room service. At the end of my essay Security Man countered, “That room is never used.” and the receptionist backed him up. I blinked. By the set of Ski Mask’s mouth I could tell he wasn’t about to confirm my story.

“Honey,” the receptionist said in her smoothest voice, “Except for the legs, you just described the man of my dreams, I think I would have noticed him! In fact I would have presented him the best room in the house: across from my desk” I knew she was an airhead. What did she get paid for, doing her nails at the counter?

To convince me they unlocked the hallway door next to mine. It was a storage room. No one would be checked into here. Silk Shorts had said my room was nicer than his!?

Cindy, patting my back, explained to everyone present that I went to bed on a tummy full of French fries drenched in chili and onions watching the movie, “The Hills Have Eyes”, it was no wonder my imagination was acting up tonight. This got understanding responses. I was reacting to a piece of undigested food.

“But he called the front desk and ordered these snacks! If he hadn‘t this scum bag would have gotten away” I exclaimed pointing to the fragments of food we were all decorated with. It’s true I realized, if he hadn’t run into delivery man he’d have made a clean break. Coincidence?
“The only call I got from your room was from you,” the receptionist informed me giving Cindy a sympathetic look. How dare she. She was feeling sorry for my daughter having such a delutional mother!
Cindy sighed, “ I knew this day would come, but not so soon.”
“What day?”
“The day I’d have to start being in charge, you know role reversal, where it falls on the kid to raise the parents.”
“Okay, that’s it. We’re going back to bed.” I marched us back to room 301 and slammed the door. Let management figure everything out with out me. I looked under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain, in the desk drawers (why not?) and climbed under the covers, after checking the dead bolt to the adjoining entry and blocking it with a heavy chair. I heard the sirens coming to take Ski Mask into custody.

Scruffy situated himself on the chair to eavesdrop on the two beings in the storage room.
Silk Shorts had been examining his legs. “What’s wrong with my legs?” he asked his compatriot who had arrived after all the excitement.
“Nothing. Any hen would be proud of those sticks!”
“What are you saying?”
“Oh, nothing except ….cluck, cluck, cluck” he answered dissipating rapidly into the air to avoid retaliation.
Silk Shorts shrugged, sprouted wings through his buffed up shoulders and sighed, “Well it’s not like I use my legs for anything anyway,” and he soared off. Scruffy, satisfied his invisible friends had left, curled up, laid his head on his paws and commenced guarding his women.

At check out the next morning I paid the full balance of my night’s stay, a big whopping zero, with a guarantee of tremendous discounts on my future visits. I learned that Ski Mask was a self employed merchant picking up his inventory from hapless guests, either in motels or parking lots. All the more need for increased vigilance on the part of society. I would wager he never filed his inventory with the IRS. There comes another slap on the wrist.