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in the smoke room are like. After those first few seconds, though, things
grow exponentially worse in a way that is almost impossible to explain to
someone who hasn t lived through it. The moment you realize you re not
getting out is the moment you begin to think you re dying. Thirty seconds
seem like half an hour, and a minute seems like a week.
You choke and your eyes water and your nose runs, and if you re not
smart, you cough, and when you do that you inhale quickly and take in
more smoke, which makes you cough again, and then you get into a cycle
where it feels as if someone s taken a chainsaw to your lungs.
Some say it s as bad as being forced to breathe underwater. You crawl
around on your stomach searching for that one good, clean patch of air
that hasn t been saturated with carbon monoxide and soot. You try to
move to the doorway to get the scant fresh air oozing in under the crack,
but there s always somebody in front of you, somebody with his face
pressed up against the door. Tonight that somebody was Robert Johnson.
The worst part isn t that you think you re dying. The worst part is that
you are dying, that you are in the first stages of death by CO poisoning.
It becomes a test of will. You hold on because others before you have
held on. Because the instructors and other recruits are waiting for you to
crack, and you re determined not to give them that satisfaction. You hold
on because your career depends on it. Strangest of all, you hold on be-
cause you know it s good for you. You know that someday as a firefighter
you may end up in a situation where you re trapped in smoke and where
you ll grasp on to that hairsbreadth of difference between surviving and
dying, that you ll survive because this experience gave you the frame-
work, the reference point to persevere instead of panic. You do it because
T HE S MOK E R O OM 101
it s necessary. But that was in drill school. We d already proved ourselves,
every one of us.
 This is bullshit, said Johnson as soon as the door closed.  We re not
recruits. When I joined him on the floor, I pressed the light button on my
watch and took note of the second hand.
I took a quick circuit of the ten-by-twelve-foot room and rejoined
Johnson at the door, trying not to inhale.  How long? Johnson asked,
strangling on the words.
 Twenty seconds.
 Fuck.
We knew every time we took smoke we were shortening our lives,
dumping poisons into our lungs, liver, and kidneys, increasing our chances
of heart disease and cancer. This was bullshit. Abbott had exceeded his
authority, and it pissed me off, too.
Outside the door, we heard Tronstad run past, calling out the floors
as he passed each, as was the custom. You could tell from the amount of
air he had behind his voice that he was dogging it.
I glanced at my watch again. We d been inside a minute now, and
even though we were  cheating by scooping up what little fresh air fil-
tered in under the door, we were also dying, especially Johnson, who was
beginning to breathe in small gulping hiccups.  One minute, I an-
nounced.
 Okay. That s enough, Johnson said loudly.  We re coming out now!
Without removing his face from the sweet spot at the base of the
door, Johnson reached up and fumbled for the knob. When he continued
to fumble, I sat up and pulled hard on the door. It didn t budge.
 It s stuck.
 It s stuck, Chief, Johnson shouted.  Let us out. The door s stuck!
I was sure Abbott could hear the panic in Robert Johnson s voice.
Maybe this was easier for me because I d been through drill school more
recently. Or because I was younger.
It was then that the minimal quantities of fresh air that had been
flowing under the door were shut off. When I turned on my flashlight I
could see Chief Abbott had blocked the crack under the door with a rag
or his coat.
102 E A R L E ME R S ON
 You boys getting a good taste of it? Abbott asked from the other side
of the metal door.
 Chief ! Chief ? Johnson pounded on the door, his blows thunderous
in my ears, which were close to the door.  Chief. Let us out of here. Damn
it, let us out!
 Maybe now you ll tell me where you got that bearer bond? Abbott
asked.
 Wha ?
 That bearer bond. And all the other bearer bonds. How many do you
have?
 Chief ?
 Talk to me, boys. You re in there. I m out here. It s going to stay this
way until you tell me about the bonds.
Johnson started crying.
 Think it over. I ve got all night. Your time may be limited. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]