Lucky

NTT short story

This short story is for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday for 5/15/25.

To this day, I’m not sure why I took a right down Van de Boort road that Friday afternoon. The fire station was only another mile, but there was this voice in my head that wasn’t really a suggestion. I heard quite clearly

Turn here

I tried to resist, but something compelled me. I turned, but I had no idea where I was going.

To my right was the Hudson River; and beyond it, the northern Catskills. In early March, they were still covered in white. The skies behind the mountains glowed orange and red in the fading sunlight.

After two miles, I heard

Here

I saw a long, low one-story building with a sign: Duchess County Animal Shelter.

There was only one other car in the parking lot and as I walked up, a young woman came out, turned around, and locked the door. She turned and we almost collided.

“Oh!” she said. She looked wary. “Can I help you?”

She was heavily tattooed and had a nose ring. “I don’t know,” I said. “I, uh— I’m not really sure…”

“We close at six. We open on Monday at seven. Come back then.”

“I can’t. I’m on duty until Tuesday.” She looked at me impassively. 

“Look, never mind,” I said. I turned and reached in my pocket for my keys. 

“Wait,” she said. “Give me ten bucks and I’ll let you in for a few minutes.”

“What? Ten—“

Just do it

Confused, I reached for my wallet.

Our footsteps echoed hollowly on the polished concrete floors as we walked past the pens. Dogs of all breeds and sizes jumped, barked and howled. At the very end a Dalmatian sat calmly. I squinted at the card in the dim light.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “She should have been moved to the clinic. She’s gonna be put down Monday.”

“What? Why?” I squatted and put my finger through the wires. The Dalmation looked at me. She was very thin and her hair was matted.

“She was a stray. Her chip was from the SUNY animal research lab in Albany. We called and they said she escaped. They want her put down asap.”

I looked up her card: Lucky. Didn’t seem too lucky to me. The girl continued.

“So besides this one, there any others you might be interest—“

Help

I looked around. There was no one there but me and the girl. I looked at Lucky.

Don’t let them kill me. She sat perfectly still, holding my gaze.

I backed away on my haunches. 

“Did you hear that?” I said, not breaking eye contact. “Tell me you heard that.”

She looked confused. “I didn’t hear anything.”

They did things to me. Things that hurt.

“Look, if none of the others dogs interest you, come back another time. They have thirty days, or they’re euthanized to make room—“

I started hearing them, understanding them.

I concentrated. Can you hear ME?

Yes

My head spun. This was not really happening.

She says you’re not available for adoption

Tell her that her mother’s about to call. She wants her to stop at Giant Eagle to pick up garlic bread.

I rubbed my eyes. 

Tell her. Quickly. 

I looked at the girl. “Your mother is about to call. She’s going to ask you to stop at Giant Eagle for garlic bread.”

Hers eyes widened. “What?” she asked. “I don’t know what—“

Her rear pocket buzzed and she pulled out her phone. She looked at me, tapped the button, and put the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Ma.” 

I heard a tinny voice. She listened and then, startled, looked at me. Her eyes were huge.

“How did you—“ The tinny voice continued and she half listened while continuing to stare at me.

“Love you, too,” she said and hung up.

“Look Mister, I don’t know how you did that or what you’re trying to pull, but I want you to leave. Now.”

“I don’t know, either,” I said. “I just need to adopt this dog. I can’t explain it.”

“I told you, she’s going to be euthanized on Monday.”

Tell her if she doesn’t let me leave with you, you’ll tell the police about Timmy Collins

What? Who—

The boy she babysits. Tell her.

I cleared my throat. “If you don’t let me take Lucky, I’m going to the police and tell them about Timmy Collins.”

The effect was electrifying. She turned white and backed away.

Tell her we’re leaving

I didn’t say anything, but opened the door of the kennel. Lucky walked out and licked my hand.

“We’ll just be leaving, then,” I said. 

Her mouth moved but nothing came out as she slowly backed away.

Lucky was an immediate hit with the other guys at the station. They crowded around, petting her, giving her bits of their supper, praising her. Lucky’s tail was a blur.

She caught my eye. Thank you

After some discussion… and with Cap’s OK…Lucky became the mascot of Squad Company 63, West Ashland, New York. We fixed her up a temporary bed in the supply room with some of our turnout coats. She immediately circled a few times, collapsed and fell into an exhausted sleep. 

In the weeks that followed, Lucky flourished. Surrounded by love, with a good diet and daily brushing, she filled out and her coat gleamed. The mysterious 50-mile trek from SUNY Albany was thankfully soon a memory.

I tentatively asked the other guys if they noticed anything unusual about Lucky…any oddities of her personality or surprising abilities; but apparently, I was the only one who could communicate with her. Or with whom she chose to communicate.

We had long talks. It was amazing how much she grasped, how she could reason. She got to understand me as well as any human and to say that a bond of deep respect and affection grew between us wouldn’t be an exaggeration. 

We had a joke. I was Pyro; she was Lab Rat.

About a month later at the station, we got a call; we put on our turnout coats and got the truck running, Just as I was about to close the passenger door, a streak of black and white shot across the station and Lucky jumped up into my lap. 

I want to go

“Cap?” I shouted. “OK?”

“Yeah! Now go!”

The call was to an abandoned packing plant by the Hudson. As our six-man crew  raced down Route 9 with the siren wailing, Lucky stood on my seat, looking out the windshield, panting with excitement. 

I recognized the place; my friends and used to sneak in here when we were kids. It was from the late 1800s, wood, three stories. The far side was the hot zone, we could see the flames and smoke over the ridge. On our side, faint but still visible, was old-fashioned lettering with a big faded picture of a fish. 

My partner Kevin and I manhandled the 1.5” hose across the parking lot to the entrance. Through the smoke, I could make out the flames on the far side through old machinery, support columns and stairs. We donned our Scott Air-Paks, I turned on the hose, and we entered cautiously.

We advanced, aiming our hose at the fire that had the second floor ahead of us ablaze. I stopped to let Kevin pull in some more hose, then turned to continue.

Stop

I halted.

Something jerked me from behind and I was pulled backwards. Lucky had my coat between her teeth and as I fell, she pulled with surprising strength. She dragged me across the concrete floor and I heard a groaning sound almost directly overhead.

With a crash, the rotted overhead joists collapsed, bringing much of the second floor down right where I had been standing. I put my arm up to my face shield as flaming subfloor crashed down in front of me. Kevin grabbed my collar and both he and Lucky dragged me backwards out of the building.

The other hose crew pumped water in through a hole in the side of the building where the fish had been just moments before. Kevin tore off his mask and shouted at me.

“Eric! Eric, you OK, man?” I nodded.

“Did you guys see that?” he shouted as the other guys came running over. “Did you friggin SEE that?!” He jumped and swung his fist in jubilation. “Friggin LUCKY! She friggin KNEW! She pulled him back!” The other guys stared.

Lucky licked me in the face as I pulled my mask off. Laughing, I hugged her.

Thanks, Lab Rat

You’re welcome, Pyro 

After that day, Lucky went with us on every run. Most of the time she just sat at the safety perimeter watching but sometimes she’d come closer and bark. That’s all the other guys heard…but in my mind it was

There’s a propane tank in the far back corner

Or

Watch out for the drums of nitric acid in the second floor lab

The guys couldn’t get over it. They marveled at Lucky’s uncanny ability to somehow sense danger and how I was able to somehow know exactly what to watch out for. “It’s like you two can read each others’ minds,” they joked. Sort of. They looked at us strangely sometimes.

One day, we were at the station, cleaning equipment and performing PMs when there was a knock on the door of the open bay. A young guy stood there.

“Help you?” Cap said.

“Hi. I’m Matt Ganfield from the Poughkeepsie Journal,” he said. “Is this the fire station with the ESP dog?”

I guess word had gotten around, but I was surprised it had gotten that far south or that the Journal would send a guy up here for a story.

“Well, yes, I suppose you could say that,” Cap said. “You want a cup of coffee?”

For the next thirty minutes, the reporter scribbled frantically as six voices told one story after another. He took pictures and said he’d send us a draft of his write up.

A week later, a copy of the Poughkeepsie Journal was quietly laid down on a desk in the Albany lab. On the front page of the Local section was a picture of us and Lucky.

We were famous for a week or two; one or two of the networks actually picked it up and affiliates in half a dozen states aired a segment with us. It was fun while it lasted.

Two weeks later, we got a call about a residential fire near Saugerties. We suited up and on the way there, Lucky turned around and looked at me.

Be careful on this one

What is it?

Not sure

It was a rambling two-story farmhouse, probably 100 years old. The wraparound porch sagged and curtains hung drunkenly in half the windows; the others were bare. Flames were consuming the right side of the house.

As Kevin and I suited up, we heard faint screams from inside.

In the confusion, nobody noticed the black SUV pull onto the shoulder 100 feet down the road. Or the four guys with flak jackets who quietly got out of the back and circled around, disappearing into the woods behind the farmhouse.

Kevin and I ran up to the front door wearing our air masks. I tried the door; locked.

“Stand back,” Kevin shouted through his mask. He swung his axe like a madman and after a dozen blows the door splintered and burst. He reached inside, unlocked it, and opened the door.

We carefully entered. Flames were licking at the far right wall from floor to ceiling. To the left, a hallway led to a kitchen. We listened for the scream; we heard it again, upstairs. 

“I got it,” I shouted. As I ran for the stairs, something came through the front door. Lucky.

“Watch her!” I yelled as I ran up the stairs. I turned and saw what must have been the master bedroom at the end of hallway. The screams were coming from inside.

In the woods behind the farmhouse, a man with sunglasses stepped carefully into the overgrown yard. He held a Glock 9mm in front of him in combat stance and looked left and right. He advanced halfway to the back porch, then he stopped, knelt, and waved his arm.

Three more agents emerged from the woods. Moving as one, they advanced towards the farmhouse.

Upstairs, I found a woman in her mid 30s lying on the hardwood floor. I knelt and felt the floor. It was very hot; we were right over the flames.

“Help,” she cried. She trailed off into a coughing fit. Smoke was coming up along all the baseboards. I had a minute or two, maybe less. I helped her up, then hoisted her over my shoulder.

“Wait,” she cried. “There’s something you need to know! There’s—“

“Not now,” I shouted through my mask. “Tell me later!” I ran down the hallway and stairs and handed her off to Kevin.

Kevin reached the front door with me behind him and Lucky bringing up the rear. As he stepped outside, the back door burst open. Four armed people dressed like a SWAT team stepped through with semiautomatic pistols pointing at me.

Between us stood Lucky.

“Nice doggy,” the lead agent said, advancing slowly. “Come on. We just want to get you home.”

Leave. Now.

The agent flinched as though struck. He turned to his colleagues.

“Did you—“

“Yeah,” said one.

“We all did,” said another. 

“They said the trial wasn’t successful. That they were gonna—“

“Well, looks like they were wrong.” 

I said leave

Lucky growled deep in her chest. She bared her teeth and the hair on her back stood up. At 70 lbs, she was not to be taken lightly. 

Go. I’ll hold them off.

No! I’m not leaving you!

Go! I’m faster. I’ll catch up.

Flames and smoke surrounded the four agents as they slowly advanced and Lucky retreated. 

I was outside facing the porch, watching what was happening inside, when Kevin shouted from the safety zone behind me.

“Eric! Watch out! The lady says that there’s a meth—“

Lucky turned and sprinted for the door. The agents stopped and aimed their pistols. 

Everything happened so fast after that it’s almost impossible to describe. 

I have mental images that are frozen in my mind like scenes from a CGI movie.

Lucky in midair after leaping from the porch. 

Winking lights from the agents’ guns.

A ball of orange-crimson that started in the kitchen to the left and erupted with astonishing swiftness to engulf first the agents, then the first floor, then the entire house.

Being blown over backwards by a concussive blast; and the last thing before everything turned black was a fleeting 

It’s OK. You’re safe.

I awoke later that day in Ashland Hospital. Kevin, Cap, and the guys were standing around my bed looking worried.

“How you feeling?” Cap asked. “Doc says you’re gonna be OK. You’ve got a concussion.”

“I’m fine! But what about—”

They all looked at each other. My heart sank. 

“We uh— I mean, she’s alive… but she’s in pretty bad shape. She was in surgery at the vet hospital.”

I yanked the monitors off my arms and fingers and got out of bed. A dizzy feeling made me feel sick. Cap came towards me me, but I waved him away. 

“Just give me my clothes. I gotta see her.”

Thirty minutes later, we were at the vet hospital. Lucky was laying on a gurney with an IV drip and a light blanket covering most of her. Her hair was singed and her eyes were closed. My throat tightened.

I moved toward her and the other guys respectfully stayed back. By now, they knew we some sort of unfathomable connection.

Aww Lab Rat…what were you thinking?

I gently pet her flank. There was no answer.

Lab Rat? 

“Doc!” I shouted. “Doc!!” I bent back over Lucky, petting her head and avoiding the singed areas.

Lab Ra—

(weakly) I’m here, Pyro

I put my face up next to hers. Are you OK? Are you—

She opened an eye. Don’t worry. I’ll be back saving you soon. Right now, I need sleep.

Everything got blurry as I gently stroked her side. A tear fell on her face.

She closed her eye, drifted away and knew no more.

Images courtesy of Meta AI and Kevin’s No Theme Thursday

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