Come Gentle the Dawn (5 page)

“Not that I can see. I have the driver with me. He escaped injury and ran from the truck.”

Brie turned to Linc. “I would, too.” She switched the
mike on. “We’ll be on scene with you in—” she glanced at her watch “—twenty minutes, Sergeant D’Onofrio. Until then, block that entire stretch of road one-half mile away on either side of the actual accident. If there is a leak, the fumes from the hydrochloric acid, if breathed in, can kill. Alert the nearest fire department and have them on the scene and standing by.”

“Roger, FM 26. We’ll be looking for you shortly.”

Grimly, Brie hung up the mike. “Well, you wanted some excitement, Tanner, you’ve got it.”

Linc held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, this is McPeak’s fault, not mine.”

Brie managed a slight smile, dividing her attention between driving and rustling through a series of manuals between the chairs. “Cross your fingers that tanker hasn’t sprung any leaks. If it hasn’t, clean up can go pretty smoothly and quickly.”

He reached for the manual she placed her hand on. “How quick? I’m beat.”

“It’s five o’clock now. If we’re lucky, maybe three or four hours. Take this manual and look up those two chemicals. Acquaint yourself with the safety procedures regarding each of them.”

“You know them by heart, don’t you?”

“Backward and forward, but that isn’t going to help train you. We’ve got time before we arrive on scene, so bone up, Tanner.”

He began paging through the thick index of more than a thousand chemicals. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.

Brie reached up to a panel overhead and flipped on a switch. The red and white light bar came on, whirling brightly above the cab. She pressed more firmly on the
accelerator, making the van move at a brisk sixty-five miles an hour. Time was of the essence.

Silence settled into the cab again, but Brie’s mind was working at a feverish rate. Her heart was pumping hard. The very thought that the serious accident could erupt into a full-scale explosion and loss of life shook her deeply. Before John’s death, Brie had never felt worried like this. Now, her hands were damp and sweaty and her breathing came fast with each call. She was scared. Swallowing against the burgeoning fear, Brie forced herself to focus on the contingency plans that might have to be initiated once they arrived.

*

Linc watched Brie change like a chameleon before him as they drew up next to several white state police cars that blocked the two-lane highway. Troopers in gray uniforms were directing traffic to turn around. In the distance, Linc could see an eighteen-wheeler tipped over, its elliptical tank rusty looking. Not a good sign, he thought, climbing out of the truck with Brie.

Brie met Linc at the back of the van. As she unlocked the rear doors, she said, “Stick close, watch and listen.”

He nodded, settling his hands on his hips, noticing the crowds of interested spectators who had pulled their cars over to look at the accident. “Any other way I can help?”

“I wish,” Brie answered fervently, pulling the doors open and slipping a pair of high-powered binoculars out of their case. She gave him a quick look. “Thanks just the same.”

“I feel like a three-legged dog—useless.”

A bare hint of a smile touched her mouth as they
walked toward the four state troopers. “I happen to like dogs. They’re good companions.”

He looked down, openly admiring Brie’s demeanor. With a job like this and all kinds of pressures on her, she could have been cold, huffy or defensive. Instead, she was trying to put him at ease and make him feel needed! Grudgingly, Linc admitted that was a good sign of leadership, something he hadn’t ever seen in a woman before. With that new lesson, Linc decided to relax slightly and learn from her. Sergeant D’Onofrio gave Brie a look of relief as she approached him. Did Brie have that kind of effect on all men? he wondered, suddenly a bit jealous.

Brie gave the sergeant a nod. She listened gravely to his report, all the while scanning the tanker through her powerful binoculars. Above all the confusion, the crowd and the blaring radios, she was wildly aware of Linc beside her. Some of her fear abated because she felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness emanating from him. How was that possible? They had known each other only three or four hours. Unable to give the thought more attention, Brie tucked it away for a later time when she would be able to examine the discovery more closely.

She handed Linc the binoculars. “From all signs, I don’t see any cracks in the tanker’s skin, and the lid on top looks secure. Sometimes they get sprung, and that’s where most leaks will occur.”

Linc scanned the wreckage. He was flattered that Brie gave him the binoculars. That implied a certain amount of trust, and he was at once surprised and pleased. Another sign of a good leader—make your
people feel involved and important to the total effort.

How could a woman know so much about leadership?

Brie stared at Linc, watching his mouth purse as he studied the tanker. Now she would see how he responded under actual working conditions. If anything, he had grown quieter and calmer. A good sign. “Do you see anything?”

“Nothing,” he said, handing her the binoculars, “but that tanker is old and rusty. I wouldn’t trust it.”

“Right.” She turned to the trucker who stood nearby. “Have you contacted the tanker’s company?”

“Yes, ma’am, I have. They’re sending out another tanker from a local company to come and drain the contents from the truck when you give the word.”

“Are the cables leading to that truck battery still attached?”

“Yes, ma’am, they are.” He was a short man with an ample belly beneath his white T-shirt. “Ordinarily, I’d cut them, but I didn’t know if the sparks might set the chemicals on fire if there was a leak,” he apologized.

Brie nodded. She’d have to go in with the nonsparking tool kit and cut the wires leading to the battery, or a fire could occur if conditions were right. “Fine,” she answered absently. “We’ll take care of it. Linc, let’s go.”

Linc followed her to the rear of the haz-mat truck. She climbed into the back—she was almost able to stand up in it—and took a silver suit with a hood from the wall.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, scowling.

“I’m going to get suited up and go in there to cut the cables, then inspect the tank.”

“Well, where’s my suit?”

She sat down on the bumper, nudging off her low-heeled
shoes and slipping her long legs into the attached boots of the one-piece suit. “You don’t have one yet. Your measurements were taken only today. It’s still on order for you.”

“What about that suit?” he protested, pointing to a second one hanging on the wall.

Brie shook her head, sitting again. “That’s Jeff’s, and it won’t fit you. You’re too big for it, Tanner. Here, help me get the air pack over my shoulders.”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Linc lifted the forty-pound air pack off its holder and spread the array of nylon straps aside so that Brie could struggle into it. “I don’t like this, Brie. You shouldn’t be going in there without a partner. That’s the law of fire fighting: you always work on the buddy system.”

She felt the weight of the air pack on her shoulders and pulled the nylon straps to tighten them. She snapped the latches closed across her breast and stomach, then shrugged a few times to settle the tank comfortably against her. “Normally, I’d agree with you. But I can’t allow you to go near that tanker without being properly protected. You might breath in hydrochloric acid or step in it, or it might explode. You need the safety this suit offers.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Linc said, “Let me put on an air pack and go in with you.” No woman could handle a task like that alone. How could she recognize battery cables from other cables in a huge truck engine?

Brie was grateful for his help in getting the bulky suit up and over the air pack. The silver-colored material of the gear glared in the dying rays of the sun hovering on the western horizon. She closed the crotch-to-throat Velcro and tested her breathing apparatus. Everything
worked fine. Linc held the silver hood in his hands. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s impossible.” Her voice turned grim. “I’ve already had one partner die, and I’ll be damned if you’ll be the second because I overlooked a point of safety.” She slipped on the oxygen mask, which fitted over most of her face. She tightened the rubber straps on either side until it was sealed, keeping her from breathing any poisonous fumes.

Linc suspended his protests, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to argue. Brie needed his support, not his dissension in the face of a crisis. He lowered the hood and sealed it to her shoulders. A large glass plate showed her beautiful green eyes and thick lashes and nose behind the clear plastic of her oxygen mask. “How can I communicate with you?” he demanded, raising his voice.

Brie pointed to a small radio inside her suit and to a similar one on Jeff’s. “Just put on the headpiece and take Jeff’s radio off his suit,” she shouted, her voice muffled.

At least he’d have radio contact with her! Linc slipped on the slender headpiece with the mike close to his lips. She picked up the toolbox, and he followed her around the van.

“Are you sure you know where the battery cables are located at the back of that truck?”

Brie almost laughed but had the good sense not to. “Yes, I know where they’re at.”

Linc rubbed his jaw, giving her a dubious look. “You sure?”

“Look, I know by now you don’t think women are of much use beyond the bedroom.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.” She met and held his cobalt gaze.
“Put your prejudice aside and maybe you’ll find out that women can understand mechanical and electrical things, too.”

Linc clamped his teeth together, his jaw rigid. The looks she received from the bystanders made him want to laugh: the people were reacting as if a Martian had landed. The bulky silver suit did resemble something from outer space. Brie walked with surprising agility in the cumbersome outfit, but then, she was a feline.

Linc went with her as far as the troopers’ cars. He gripped her arm, gently swinging her around. “You be careful out there, kitten. You get into trouble, you call me. Understand?”

Brie’s eyes widened momentarily as his raspy voice came through the headset she wore. A heady warmth suddenly blanketed her, and she felt an exquisite sensation at his concern. A tiny shiver of pleasure raced up her spine when his voice dropped intimately at the word kitten. “I will, Linc. And thanks.” She smiled. “See, even three-legged dogs are valuable.”

That was her last contact with him for the next ten minutes. Linc paced back and forth, watching as Brie made her way toward the tanker with the small toolbox in her left gloved hand. When she finally reached the rusty, battered truck and leaned into the truck engine and cut the cable wires, his heart began a slow, uneven pounding. He stood, legs apart, binoculars to his eyes, watching her every move. Brie, be careful! he told her silently. The what ifs overwhelmed him. What if there was a leak in some unknown place? What if there was a spark if she cut the wrong cable and it caught fire? She could easily be killed in the resulting explosion. What
if her air pack suddenly stopped working? She could suffocate in minutes if she couldn’t get out of that suit to fresh air. What if the breathing apparatus developed a leak and she breathed in some of those deadly fumes? She could be dead before he would be able to race that half a mile to rescue her.

Muttering another curse, Linc swore violently that this would be the last time Brie would ever go anywhere by herself. She needed a man around in case anything happened! She wasn’t able to handle a situation like this by herself! He punched down the radio button. “Talk to me, Brie. What’s going on? What do you see?” His voice came out in a low growl of impatience.

Brie felt immediate relief when she heard Linc’s voice. Talking used too much oxygen. If she were breathing lightly and evenly, she would have twenty-five minutes of air. If, like today, her breathing was choppy and erratic, she had perhaps twenty minutes. She climbed down from the rear of the truck and approached the tanker. Her eyes narrowed as she quickly took in the condition of the rusted tanker. “I don’t see anything yet. I’ll let you know, Linc. Got to conserve my air. Out.”

With painstaking care, Brie examined every square inch of the overturned tanker. The tank was badly dented, and she got down on her hands and knees to slide her gloved hand along the area where the tank rested on the berm. If there was any leak, the dirt would be dark and damp.

Brie knew that it was possible the entire truck might shift down unexpectedly. If it did, her fingers, if not her entire hand or lower arm, would be caught and crushed. Then she could be trapped, and in far greater danger.
Sweat trickled down her brows and into her eyes. She shut them tightly, then blinked a few times. The sun was still warm even at six o’clock, and sweat was running freely down her body. The suit acted like a sauna. It was a great way to lose five pounds in a half hour’s time. Except she needed to gain weight, not lose it.

As she neared the top of the tank, she stood up and minutely inspected the hatch and shoring mechanism, making sure it wasn’t sprung. The lid was plenty tight. Brie got back down on her hands and knees, continuing her inspection. Finding no change in the dirt, she went to the other side of the truck and crawled in between the huge tires and axles, hunting for leaks. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. She had to be careful not to tear her suit on the jagged metal sticking out at odd angles from the truck. If there was a leak, one tear could be her death. Chemicals were quickly breathed in by the pores of the skin, and that could kill her just as though she had breathed them in through her mouth and nose.

“Brie?”

Linc’s voice was quietly furious. He’s probably lost sight of me, she thought, making her way toward the cab of the truck on all fours. “Nothing so far. Lid’s secure.”

“You’ve got five minutes of air left.” That wasn’t a comment, it was an order for her to get away from the truck.

Brie smiled and slowly made her way out of the tangle of wheels and torn truck cables and stood near the cab. “Roger. On my way out now. Tell Sergeant D’Onofrio that the truck’s secure. There’s no danger of a leak.”