Wednesday, September 6th Olivia Everhart sat in her Waverly County office staring at an email notification. This one meant something. And she wished it didn’t. It was about the dedication of The Waverly Junction Captain David Reynolds and Battalion Chief Chuck Everhart Burn Unit. Her pointer slid back and forth across her father’s name. She was ten the night her father died in a blazing home inferno. He and David Reynolds were trapped in the home’s basement after rescuing two children. The children survived. Her phone trilled. “Arson-Bomb Unit, Detective Everhart,” she answered. “Liv?” a woman’s voice called brightly. “Mom,” she whispered. “You got the invitation?” Olivia’s breaths came slowly and deeply, but she didn’t answer. “Liv, I know this is hard,” Charlotte Everhart said. Olivia stared at the picture on her office wall. It was a black-and-white photo of the home where her father and David Reynolds died. Supreme Sacrifice. The two words stuck in her throat. That bothered her. Her dad was dead. He went to work and didn’t come home. No more walks to school. No more pushes on her swing. No more playing catch, trapping fireflies, Sunday pancakes… The thoughts overflowed. “I’ll be there,” she told her mom. “Liv, it’s been twenty years. You have to make peace with it,” Charlotte urged. Her cheeks turned red, and her ears heated. “Have you, Mom?” “Look, Liv, this burn unit is a great honor to our family. And for the Reynolds family. I need you to be… well, honored.” Charlotte blew out a breath. “I know you lost your dad, but I lost my husband,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight—not over this.” She clenched and opened her fists. “It’s a promotional ceremony too. I’ll be there in uniform. I won’t dishonor anyone. Now I have work to do.” Olivia hung up. *** Jackson Reynolds smiled as he adjusted his uniform in front of the mirror in his bathroom. “Two bugles will look good on your collar.” He’d made the rank of captain. And, even better, he’d be in charge of the men and women of Station 3, opposite his best friend. His smile turned to a frown. The fire department always did its best to economize. A dedication, a promotion, a medal ceremony—all rolled into one observance. One buffet. He shook his head. He was double-dipping. “It will make your mom proud,” he reminded himself. She’d hang the certificate on the wall in her office along with all the other plaques and medals. His medal of valor would hang beside his father’s. Jackson thought about the miserable August night a month earlier that earned him this medal. The night was pitch-black, the howling wind blending with the relentless drumming of rain against his windshield. Lightning had ripped across the sky, momentarily turning the world stark white before plunging it back into darkness. Jackson had navigated the storm-drenched road, his tired eyes fixed on the barely visible path ahead. It had been a long shift at the fire department. A dedicated lieutenant/paramedic, he had just finished a grueling forty-eight-hour shift, rushing from one emergency to another. The fatigue weighed heavy on him as he finally turned onto the familiar road leading to his apartment complex. He longed for the comfort of a hot shower and his soft bed. As he rounded a sharp curve, the glare of his headlights caught a chilling sight. A car lay twisted at the bottom of a steep embankment, half-submerged in a swiftly flooding storm drain. Jackson's heart had pounded as instinct kicked in, overriding the exhaustion. He’d radioed it in and pulled his official fire department vehicle to the side of the road. After lurching to a stop, he immediately sprinted toward the scene, his years of training pushing him into action. The car's front end was submerged, water rapidly pooling inside. A family of four, dazed and terrified, were trapped inside the sinking vehicle, their panicked cries barely audible over the thundering storm. Without hesitation, Jackson tossed his jacket aside and waded into the rising floodwaters, adrenaline surging through his body. His hand had wrapped around his keys. A Resqme tool glowed in the dark. His captain gave the keychain to his engine company as a Christmas present: part window punch, part seatbelt cutter. He’d need both. Using the punch, he shattered one of the car's passenger-side windows, water gushing in as he frantically slit seat belts and pulled the first member of the family to safety. Battling against the strong current threatening to drag them all down, he returned for the next family member. With sheer strength, he managed to get the next one out just as the car was completely submerged. He managed to free the third victim, his lungs tight and his arms aching. The fourth victim, a teenage girl, was trapped. He dove over and over, blowing air into her mouth to keep her alive. Finally, a blurry flashlight lit up the murky water. Turk Crenshaw, the oncoming shift captain, helped pry the young girl free. Together, they dragged her clear. Firefighter Luke Shane met them and began the resuscitation effort. An hour later, Jackson, Turk, and Luke had found themselves seated in the emergency room, surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the low hum of medical equipment. The chief insisted they all get checked out, just to be safe. Sitting side by side, they began processing the intense rescue they had just undertaken. Jackson recounted the moment he first spotted the car submerged in the water. “It was surreal, you know? Everything seemed fine until I saw the fourth person trapped inside,” he’d explained, his eyes reflecting the memory of the panicked faces. “The first three were scared, but once I cut the seat belt and gave them some direction, they helped me help them.” He described how he dove into the cool water without a second thought, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he reached the trapped teen. “I remember struggling to get her out. She was jammed in, couldn’t breathe.” His voice had tightened with the recollection. “That's when Turk swooped in like a guardian angel, helping me. I owe you one, man,” Jackson said, nodding gratefully toward Turk. As the conversation had unfolded, the adrenaline rush began to subside, replaced by a sense of friendship and relief. Luke, ever the lighthearted one and the youngest in the bunch, broke the tension with his trademark humor. “Well, I guess that's another day at the office, huh? Who’s doing the paperwork?” Laughter bubbled up among the trio, filling the room with a sense of shared understanding. And as they sat there, bantering and reflecting on their latest call, they were reminded once again of the unbreakable bond that bound them together. Jackson now sat in the captain’s office at Station 3, a stack of newspapers resting on the corner of the desk. A photo captured the intense rescue amidst the torrential storm, showing Jackson, Turk and Luke, soaked and exhausted, loading the family into awaiting ambulances. The grateful parents embraced them, their expressions a mix of relief and gratitude. The town hailed them as heroes, but for Jackson—and he was sure it was also true for Turk—it was simply another day at work.