BOOK FOUR: RESIDUAL BURN
"You cannot be serious." Hands on his hips, Jason Burkwell glanced up and shook his head, then looked around, expecting to be Punk'd. Maybe they were reincarnating the show just for his benefit.
No cameras. No laughing crowds of hyenas as if he were the butt of an infamous joke.
Sunlight filtered through the budding trees onto the sidewalk and adjacent asphalt street. A soft spring breeze drifted, bringing a hint of snow and pine from the Klamath Mountains in the distance. Other than a couple guys from his unit, there were a few stragglers coming out of their homes to catch the action. All in all, though, it was same ole, same ole in their quaint little postage stamp town.
"I'm always serious." Lou crossed his beefy arms above his paunch, gray mustache twitching. The rustle of his tan and yellow turnout gear crackled over that of the rig's dying siren as he faced Jason. "A call's a call."