2 Heading North

As the road straightened out, it dipped a little lower passing thru a small swampy area before once again rising into a wooded hill. A whisp of brown, wavy hair worked it's way free from Angela's pink and camo ball cap. She tucked it back in absent-mindedly. Ahead was yet another memory. It's not the worst, but still vivid.

The season changed to summer in her mind's eye. It was night again. She was back in 1220 and they were running priority one. That ment lights and sirens. He hair was every bit as uncooperative then too. Quickly she worked her long hair into a braid so as to keep it out of the way. Police officers on scene confirmed a single vehicle accident with three people trapped. As soon as the truck stopped, she knew she had to spring into action.

The guy to her right gave her a playful shove. "Don't look so serious! It's only 3 people, one car, into a tree. I'm sure it'll be fine, you got this. I'll be hanging out at the truck if you need me."

Angela smiled and shot Mark a sideways glance, "You know that's really not helpful right?" To the average person such attempts at humor could be at best, appalling, at worst, a reason to file a complaint. Dark humor is often used amongst fellow responders as a way to deal with what they've seen, and to relieve tension.

Mark patted her knee, "Sure it is! You don't look like you're going to puke now." His blue eyes met hers and she realized he was correct. Puking is temporarily off the agenda, even though she didn't realize it was there to start with. Mark was a rugedly handsome enough guy. They had grew up going to the same school, had kids the same ages, and discovered they liked being firefighters around the same time. He was as close to a brother as she as ever had, and had a knack for calming her racing mind to focus on the problem at hand. Right now, that problem is coming into view.