Precinct 11 - 01 - The Brotherhood by Jerry B. Jenkins

minutes.
    “I wonder if she’s still up,” he muttered as they headed back to the car. Several firemen approached shyly with sad looks, offering handshakes.
    “Sorry, man,” many said. “Awful sorry.”
    Jack threw the suitcases in the backseat. “If who’s still up?”
    “Mrs. Gustavson.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s after ten, but her lights are still on.”
    “You wanna check?”
    “Yeah, I do.”
    The crowd parted silently as he started up her walk and rapped on the door. She pulled back a curtain to peek out, then immediately burst into tears and hurriedly unlocked the door.
    “Oh, Mr. Drake!” she said. “I’m so sorry! I did everything I could. I didn’t know what else to do!”
    “Just wanted to tell you I appreciate it, ma’am. They didn’t make it.”
    Mrs. Gustavson nodded. “I just saw it on the news. I couldn’t imagine they would survive that. I’m so sorry.”
    “Thank you.”
    “If there’s anything I can do—”
    “I’ll let you know.”
    On the way to Keller’s apartment, Jack pulled into a drive-through.
    “I can’t eat, Jack, really.”
    “You mind if I do? Sorry, but I’m starvin’ and I don’t keep much at home.”
    “No, sure, go ahead.”
    Keller ordered for both of them and Boone gave him a look.
    “So sue me,” Jack said. “You gotta eat whether you feel like it or not.”
    Boone nibbled at a burger and sipped a Coke as Keller pulled out. Boone’s cell phone rang. “Oh no,” he said. “My parents.”
    “Gotta talk to ’em, pal. It’s all part of the deal.”
    His mother and father cried with him, expressed their love and grief, and insisted on meeting him at the district station house the next morning. “We’ll walk you through all the funeral stuff,” his father said, and Boone had to admit he could use the help.
    “I’m not working tomorrow. You want to just meet me where I’m staying?”
    “Officer Keller told us someone from downtown was going to be meeting with you at headquarters tomorrow,” his dad said. “No?”
    “Just a sec.” Boone covered the phone. “You talked to my parents already?”
    “Yeah, they heard it on the news and called the station.”
    “What’s this about a meeting tomorrow with somebody from downtown?”
    “Yeah, sorry, I was gonna tell ya. Somebody from HR or benefits or something wants to go over a bunch of stuff with you. And you know bereavement counseling is mandatory. Time off too. All that.”
    “This has to be tomorrow already?”
    “None of this is gonna be easy, pal.”

6
    In Limbo
    Jack told Boone to go on in and that he would carry the stuff from the car, but Boone would have none of it. He was glad to have something to do. Bone weary as he was, activity was the only antidote to the devastation in his mind. He was grateful he had not seen the destroyed bodies of his loved ones, but his imagining of their terrible deaths was just as bad. If this had to happen—and for the life of him he couldn’t think of a reason—could they not have been spared such torture?
    He was surprised to see the size and quality of Keller’s apartment. All the man had done for the last year was complain about his various alimony payments. And while he had enough years on the job to enjoy a decent salary, Boone had not expected him to have such a nice, big place. The guest room even had its own bathroom.
    As Boone busied himself unpacking his suitcases, Jack stepped in with the family pictures he had taken from the house. “I figured you’d want these eventually. I mean, I can only imagine how hard it would be for you now.”
    “No, you can’t, but thanks. Yeah, if you could just store ’em somewhere for me. Someday I’m going to want to have them.”
    “You need anything from me, Boones? Anything at all? I can leave you alone. I can order you some food. The fridge is full, but it’s nothing much.”
    Boone shook his head. “Unless you can turn back the clock twenty-four hours, there’s nothing else