Rescue 1 returned to the firehouse, backing in to quarters. The car accident had turned out to be nothing at all, just a Pone-Gen vehicle which had stopped unexpectedly in the intersection to check on a loose manhole cover in the street, and which some eagle-eyed resident had spotted and assumed must have been involved in a crash. Ember Blaze climbed down from the rig wearily. It felt good to be out of the rain, and he hadn't even done that much. He hadn't waded into the freezing waters, nor had he had to work the hydraulic tools to free a victim. At the power plant fire, he had wandered through the main building, but had not been called upon to rescue anypony.
He removed his gear, and headed for the bathrooms to take a leak and splash some water on his face. He was tired not from physical exertion, but from the need to keep mentally alert at all times. There had scarcely been more than five minutes' of down time during the shift, with new calls coming in seemingly constantly. In the break room, he slumped down on one of the sofas, as Fairway switched on the TV. It was tuned to the news channel.
'...continues to batter the metro area, with sustained winds of up to 120 miles per hour. Heavy rainfall had inundated much of the city. Flooding conditions have been reported in all five boroughs, with the neighbourhood of Poneway Beach particularly badly affected. City officials say they are dealing with a large-scale rescue operation in the area, where hundreds of ponies reportedly defied orders to evacuate.'
The screen showed a few cellphone shots of fire and flood out in southern Hooflyn. 'Jeez, would you look at that shit.' Oak Wood shook his head. 'Whole community up in flames by the looks of it. Your heart just breaks for them.'
The others nodded, as the report continued. 'Hurricane Gilda has been affecting the city all day, and though conditions have peaked in the last hour or two, that doesn't mean there have not been heavy demands on city agencies since this morning. For example, here in the East River, a police boat helped a stricken jet-skier to safety, while on the Upper East Side. fireponies made a daring rescue of a colt who was trapped on a fallen radio mast.' The TV footage showed a clear-as-day zoomed in picture of Ember Blaze grabbing the young colt Silver Streak from the collapsed tower. There was a sudden round of cheers from the break room, and he found himself being slapped warmly on the back.
'Hey, you're on TV, brother!' Fairway grinned. 'Not fair, we did all the work! All you did was sit there and look pretty!'
'I'll be your agent when Ponywood calls!' Flagstaff suggested. 'Get you all the best roles for your glittering movie career that is surely to come!'
'Well would you look at that. Recognition for Rescue 1 at last,' Grey Spike chuckled. 'Congratulations for making the silver screen.' He shook Blaze's hoof warmly.
'Thanks, Cap...' Blaze blushed a bit. He was never one to take the spotlight in that kind of way, but, he had to admit, it did feel good to see himself right there on the screen, doing something good, something meaningful, something heroic.
'Wonder if your dad is watching this?' Oak Wood commented.
'Yeah...or your brother,' High Line added. 'Or haven't they got a TV yet out at Engine 206?' He chuckled.
'Hey, come on guys,' Blaze shook his head and smiled. 'The news love to zoom in like that. But we all know everypony worked together on that one.'
'Oh yeah, but how are the public gonna see it?' Oak Wood pointed out. 'They'll see the one gallant firepony doing all the dirty work and they'll turn him into some kind of hero...an ugly hero, but still...'
The others laughed, and so did Blaze. Camaraderie often meant taking the piss out of each other in a friendly way, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. But Blaze knew they were right. The media liked to focus on one particular pony whenever anything like that happened, ignoring the fact that it was a team effort, ignoring the very principle of the fire or police department in question. Not that it particularly bothered him- it was always nice to get the recognition, and seeing himself on TV was always fun in all kinds of ways.
They were able to find a short period of down time, with no calls coming in, letting them rest up, get something to eat, calm down after a string of incidents they had responded to. There was time to reflect on what had happened, and what was still happening to the city. Hurricane Gilda was not letting up. It was only the early evening, and the storm was expected to continue battering Manehattan until the early hours of the following morning, when it would have finally moved far enough inland that only the tail end would be affecting the city. Already, damage had been done. Perhaps lives had been claimed by the storm. But lives had also been saved, as exemplified on the screens of countless viewers by Blaze's rescue of the young foal from the fallen radio tower. As long as the storm continued to affect the city, the MFD would be needed to respond to anything that might develop. Blaze himself rested in one of the chairs, easing his mind and body, almost drifting off into sleep, until...
Beep-Boop.
'Rescue.'
'Alright, Rescue goes! Box 7743, Mane Park South at 6th Avenue. Tree down!'
The crew scrambled out, boarding the rig and setting off. It was Flagstaff, typically, who asked what they were all thinking. 'Why are we going on a tree down, Cap? That's not a job for the Rescue.'
'Good question,' Grey Spike mused. There was nothing on the data terminal as to the nature of their response, so he called the dispatcher. 'Rescue 1 to Manehattan, what are we going in on, K?'
'Rescue 1, the caller was a little sketchy, but they reported a pony trapped there, K.'
'Rescue 1, 10-4...' Grey Spike put the radio back in its bracket. 'I guess some pedestrian got caught by it. Standby to get the chainsaw into operation.'
They raced north to Columbine Circle, and turned east two blocks to 6th Avenue. There, they did indeed find a tree down, partly across the roadway, having fallen from inside the edge of Mane Park and taking part of the concrete fence with it. From the initial assessment, it seemed that an unfortunate driver had found his car squashed beneath the thick oak trunk. Whether he had been driving or pulled over at the side of the road was undetermined, but the engine was running and the lights were still on. Ember Blaze wasn't sure which was more unlucky; happening to be driving at the precise spot and time where the tree came down, or happening to have pulled over to check the map or take a phone call right where it fell.
'Alright, we have a car under the tree!' Grey Spike let them all know as the Rescue came to a stop. Due to the depletion of units by storm-related calls, they were the first company to arrive, but they all knew what to do. Chocks were brought to stabilise the car. Oak Wood attempted to gain access to the driver, to turn off the engine and check on him, but the tree had landed squarely atop the front of the passenger compartment and the driver would either be squashed flat or at the least badly pinned inside.
Grey Spike shone his flashlight onto the wreck. The tree was thick and, if not exactly ancient, then certainly old. Felled either by the wind or the rain undermining it and turning the ground around its roots into mush, it reached out across three lanes of the four-lane street. Branches lay at all angles, and the car was hardly visible underneath. The tree was too big for their chainsaw to cut through; the Parks Department would have to bring specialist equipment to be able to slice through it. The only way the Rescue could access the wreck was to lift the tree somehow, but with the car crushed beneath, even the slightest movement could put more pressure onto the victim, worsening any injuries he may have sustained.
Oak Wood got as close as he could, trying to peer through the branches and the dripping water. The roof was crushed, the windows and windshield shattered. He couldn't even see the driver, but the trunk weighed many tons, and it had squashed the car down. Unless the driver had been lying down, surely he must be dead. Oak Wood reported to Grey Spike. A Ladder Company arrived on the scene, and together both crews cut away at the twigs and branches until they could get closer. Oak Wood crawled in, getting right up to the driver's door and examining with his flashlight as best he could. The driver was already gone; no pulse, no signs of breathing, and no sign of his head either, crushed under the weight of the tree trunk.
An ambulance rolled through the shallow flood of water that covered the street, but their services would not be required. It was a recovery, not a rescue. The poor bastard driving the car had probably not even known what had hit him, just proceeding along and looking out for deep water when he was hit from above and blindsided. With no need to try and extricate the victim, Rescue 1 could leave the scene while the Ladder Company awaited the arrival of a crane so that the tree could be lifted and the body removed- though that would probably not happen for some hours, given the intensity of the wind which still whipped through the streets of Manehattan.
The Rescue headed back to the firehouse, but the downtime didn't last long. They had just turned back onto 8th Avenue when they were redirected to another call, a scaffolding collapse down on Baltimare Street. It was routine, with no ponies reported trapped and no damage to the building. But it kept them busy, and as the evening wore on, the routine gradually returned to just that; the routine of any other day. The storm steadily moved away inland, taking the worst of its strength with it. It was still windy, but no longer were the gusts quite so powerful. The rain no longer came sideways through the streets, but drizzled steadily down from the sky. The worst had passed, but the city was still suffering through the effects of storm Gilda.
Ember Dawn waded back onto dry land for a third time, accompanied by Striker. Their boat had carried a total of twelve ponies to safety, away from the floods, and the fire which continued to burn unchecked, ravaging the buildings of Poneway Beach. The whole neighbourhood would likely have to be torn down and rebuilt from scratch; there was little chance of anything much surviving the combination of fire and water. Most of the buildings, houses and stores alike, were made from wood or other lightweight materials, which contributed to the combustibility of the whole area and meant that rot and mould would very easily set in on any surviving structures thanks to the floods. The action of the tides would likely undermine the foundations, too, meaning the potential was that not a single building in the neighbourhood would be left inhabitable. The inspectors from the Buildings Department would have their work cut out condemning so many houses.
'Alright, boys. You did good out there. Take a blow,' Lieutenant Coppertop informed Dawn and Striker. 'We're gonna be relieved by Engine 242, so you can get those suits off and go grab a cup of coffee from the RAC.'
'Great...thanks, Lieu,' Striker replied. He was tired, but not exhausted, and Dawn was the same. They could have gone out again, but it was prudent, even in an extreme emergency such as this hurricane, to limit the exertions any individual firepony went through. Exhaustion would render them incapable of further action not just on this particular call, but also on any future calls that might come through during their shift. If they couldn't even move, then they certainly couldn't go and save a life.
Dark Flash and Deep Blue helped the pair strip out of their dry suits, which had kept them protected from the chill of the frigid seawater as they had worked. The suits had served them well, and let them rescue a dozen ponies from the floods. Other companies had done similar work, evacuating those residents who had stubbornly refused the initial calls for evacuation from coastal areas before the storm arrived. It would not be too much longer before every house had been checked and every confirmed victim had been brought to dry land. Only then would the life-saving primary mission of the MFD be completed at this incident.
Dawn and Striker took a wander through the staging area to find the RAC Unit. There were dozens of vehicles on the scene, and several hundred emergency workers from every possible agency. Striker greeted a few other fireponies he knew with hoof bumps or shouted jokes, getting laughs in response. Dawn just followed along. He didn't know many other fireponies, apart from some he had worked with on calls, and a few they had shared drinks with at the firepony-friendly bar, Hot Stuff, owned by two ex-members of the department. But he felt that he was staking his claim at the job, giving a good account of himself so far. He hoped to continue the family tradition laid down by his father and brother, and that was what he was doing. He had put another page into his war diary tonight- this was the kind of incident that would be remembered in the history books of the department. Not just another call, another fire, this was a major operation, that involved the almost total destruction of not just a building, not just a row of buildings, not of a whole street, but of a whole neighbourhood. Heat and cold had combined to practically wipe Poneway Beach off of the map. No doubt next quarter's MFD Magazine would contain an article on this incident, examining the fire department response and the challenges it faced, which would outline the basics for readers, but not be able to convey anything of the scale and the true sense of what it was like to be there.
Dawn knew what it felt like. He had been there, and he had done what was asked of him. That was all any firepony could do. He grabbed a cup of hot coffee from the RAC firepony who dished it out to both of the tired members of Engine 25. They found a spot to rest, sitting on a low brick wall that was meant to mark the perimeter of somepony's front yard. There, they said little to each other, instead simply sharing the moment of common purpose, of common tiredness, that common brotherhood amongst ponies of uncommon bravery. For that was what it truly meant to be a firepony- bravery, courage in the face of adversity, in the face of fear and terror and death. When other ponies wanted to run away, they had to run in, and that was exactly what Dawn and Striker and every other member of the department had done on this wind-swept night.