EightBen and Nestor were half-way up the bluff when the call came: ambulance needed at 600 Fenelon Place, atop the destroyed Fourth Street Elevator. Rosenka dispatched his Station 1 ambulance. Nestor, at Ben's suggestion, countermanded the captain's order. “1-Boy-16, City Fire. We're 10-8 and en route. We'll take that call.” The captain barked, but thanks to scanners everywhere, had to choke off a tirade. They arrived up top a few minutes later to find nearly as much chaos as below.
The fog had thinned slightly. The flashing reds and blues of their ambulance matched the muted auras from the patrol vehicles already there. Ben slid the rig between two squads to the right and an unmarked sedan with a dashboard light to the left, and eased it near the Thatcher House overlooking the tram. Nest
