A Fireman's Story: Angel of Mercy

The following is fiction. It is not meant to portray any specific individuals. I hope it is taken as a tribute to true heroes. It is not in any way intended to trivialize the events of September 11, 2001.

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He was exhausted, sweaty, gritty, and dirty. Despite his tremendous efforts for the last 48 hours, he felt guilty and helpless.

He should have been with his squad in the beginning. He had traded time to see his daughter on her birthday. She was 25 now, and they had made a kind of reconciliation after some turbulent years. He was home when he heard the news. His squad was there, he knew it. They needed all hands, and he went immediately.

Most of the damage had occurred by the time he arrived. It was mid-day and sunny in the rest of the world, but this area was in a cloudy twilight of smoke, dust, and fine ash. He couldn't find his squad. He knew they had been called early. Where were they? He donned is gear and respirator and went to work as guided. He could not dwell on the carnage. He had to dig, move, crawl, listen, work. He had to find his buddies. He knew how brave they were because he had seen them in action many times. Risking their lives to save others. He loved them more than life. He prayed, " Take me, not them. They have so much more to give! I am past my prime. I am no great loss. We need them. Their families need them. Take me instead!"

His prayer spurred his energy. He went beyond exhaustion. He worked until he doubled over in searing pain. His body gripped within itself. His stomach cramped, biceps knotted, his legs bent and locked. His hands were claws that would not uncurl.

He barely remembers being carried to an aid station. The pain was so bright behind his eyes that he could not see.

He woke to a cool hand gently washing his forehead. A nurse in her 40s or 50s looked into his eyes and said "Welcome back." He was naked under the sheets of the portable bed. The bed was soft. Guilt raged through him. "How long have I been here?" he asked. "I have to get back! I must find my squad!"

She held his shoulders and said "You can go back soon. You suffered severe muscle cramps and exhaustion. You were dehydrated and your body lacked electrolytes. You MUST rest. Let the IV replace some fluids and wash the acid out of your muscles. You are older than the average fireman, and you let yourself get out of shape. You are suffering the consequences now." He thought of how in the past few years, he had only stayed in good enough shape to pass the annual fitness tests. He had let his buddies down again! He wasn't worthy to wear the uniform! He wasn't worthy to rub shoulders with the best!

She calmed him down by washing his forehead and neck. She took his bleeding hands and cleaned and caressed them. She pulled back the sheet and sponged his body. He looked around in slight panic until he realized they were behind a partition. What's your name he asked. "Anne" she said simply.

Her touch soothed him. But he was still distraught. She sensed his anxiety and knew he needed to let go. She had to find a release for him. She looked in is eyes and told him to relax a moment. She would help him return as soon as he was able. Her eyes were gray-blue and kind.

As she stoked his body, he noticed her breasts. He knew he should not be having these thoughts at this time, but they grew in his mind and his anxiety receded. Her hair was pulled back, and it was partially gray. Her face was round, but he could see the beauty that had been hers in youth, and that lingered in her eyes and touch. He could see the cleavage between her breasts, and she smiled as he stared at her. She had an hour-glass figure that grew in sensuality as she moved around him and caressed his body.

Her eyes twinkled as she wiped his upper thigh and pelvis. He felt his manhood grow, and he was embarrassed. She gently hefted his cock and said "I can usually reduce a hard-on with the flick of my finger to its head, but I don't think that is appropriate right now." She leaned over and kissed his lips sweetly. He could smell faint rose perfume. She stroked his cock with her soft hands and he felt fire in his loins. He exploded in her hands and she cleaned him with her sponge. The weight of the world seemed to leave him and he slept.

He woke briefly and she was still with him. He tried to get up, but she held him and said, "Your squad knows that you care. They know how hard you worked. They want you to get well." He said "You spoke with them? You know where they are?" She said, "I spoke with Father Mychal." He slept again.

The following day he was back at it, but was restricted to lighter duty. "We thought that we had lost you buddy!" The firemen around him had thought he had had a heart attack, and were glad to see him up again.

During a break, he went back to the aid station. He wanted to thank nurse Anne. There was no nurse Anne there. He spoke to several people and described the nurse. One rumpled doctor of Middle-Eastern descent who had obviously been working hard trying to save lives and ease pain pulled him aside and told him he had been at this aid station for days and there was no nurse Anne who fit that description. However, he knew a nurse Anne who did, but it could not have been her. The fireman asked why.

The doctor looked at him with sad eyes and said, "She died the first day. She was with Father Mychal working at an aid station near the building. Injured people were in the street. Last I heard, she went with a squad of firemen back to the building to help someone. You know the rest. Everyone in that area perished when the building came down – those in the building, the aid station, Father Mychal, everyone."

He cried. But he had comfort. He knew nurse Anne had really been there, and that her words were true. She was with his squad and Father Mychal. They were together, still trying to help someone.