Fires, Rescues, and Owies, Oh
My!
By Cameron, Susie, Sheryl, Carol, Alice, Robin, JO, Jodi,
Sue, Rhys, Dorisann, Nancy, Pat, Kathy, Jamison, Goober, Teresa,
& Katy.
Chapter Two
The hot water against Roy's skin felt good. He rinsed the soap off and grabbed a towel from the rack. Drying off and dressing quickly, he stepped into the apparatus bay. He heard a voice that made his body recoil. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard. He stopped in mid-stride, dropped his head, and took a deep breath.
"I really don’t want to deal with him right now,"
he whispered. He continued into the day room, walking over to the
stove for a cup of coffee. He tentatively took a sip of the hot
fluid. He savored the flavor as it slipped down his throat.
"Good coffee, Marco," he turned to the men at the table.
"I didn't make it," was Marco's reply.
"Mike?" The engineer shook his head. "Cap, your
coffee never tastes like this? What did you do?" Stanley
looked down at the table. "I know Chet doesn't make coffee,"
there was no response from the mustached firefighter. Roy looked
down at his feet. "It's really good coffee, Brice."
"Thank you, DeSoto, it's my own special blend of flavors.
Perfectly blended to create...." the tones sounded. Roy
sighed his relief, as he set his mug down on the counter.
"Station 51, Structure fire at 2549 Empire. 2-5-4-9 Empire.
Time out 16:47." Captain Stanley responded into the mic.
"Station 51, 10-4 KMG 365," he hung the mic on the
stand, gave Roy the response slip, and went to the engine. Upon
arriving at the scene, the captain could tell the fire was well
involved. Nearby, CHP officers Jon Baker and Frank Poncherello
were busy trying to keep all bystanders out of the way. As Hank
was ready to give orders, an explosion rocked the area. Flying
debris injured several onlookers. Baker looked over at his
partner.
"Ponch? Can you hear me?" His partner was laying
face down in a puddle of blood. Roy looked up when he heard the
panic in the blonde CHP officers’ voice. As the dust cleared
from his vision, he could see the officer lying on the ground
with a 3-foot metal re-bar rod sticking out of his back. He ran
over to the fallen officer and began his assessment. Brice
brought over the bio-phone and drug box.
"Chet, get me the trauma box!" Roy yelled. The
firefighter nodded and went to the squad. When he had brought the
box, Roy looked up at him. "I think I'll need the back board
as well," he responded, opening the box. He pulled out
several rolls of bandages, and began packing them tightly around
the bar. Chet went back to the squad to get the backboard. Brice
was getting the much-needed information for the hospital as Roy
continued to prepare the patient for transport. "Cap!"
Roy yelled again. Stanley stepped over to his side.
"Yeah, Roy, what do you need?"
"This re-bar isn’t going to make the trip to Rampart
easy. It’ll do more damage if we leave it long, so we're
going to have to cut it."
"Marco," Stanley yelled, "Get the K-12 with the
metal cutting blade." Marco went to the squad to get the
equipment. Brice had started the IV and medication that Rampart
had ordered. Roy looked at Brice.
"As soon as this rod is cut, we'll roll him to see if it
went through, and if we need to pack the front," Roy
instructed, as he finished packing the rod in Ponch's back. Brice
nodded. Marco stepped over with the K-12. Ponch began to moan.
Roy placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down into his ear.
"Poncherello, this is Roy DeSoto, I need you to lay very,
very still." Ponch gave a brief nod, and passed out. Roy
pointed to the area he wanted Marco to cut, as he spread the
fireproof blanket over the officer. Stanley and Brice placed both
hands on the top portion of the re-bar. Roy placed both of his
hands close to Ponch's body. Marco straddled Ponch's prone body,
placing the K-12 between the three pairs of hands. Several more
small explosions caused everyone to recoil. As Roy held tightly
to the rod, a red and white Ford Torino pulled into his view. He
saw the two detectives exit the vehicle, as he heard the blade
going through the metal re-bar.
Jon watched in horror as the paramedics and firemen worked on
his partner. Images from Vietnam flashed in his mind, as he
watched the delicate rescue unfold. He was glad that Ponch was
unconscious, and unaware of what was being done to him. Jon
shuttered inwardly when he heard the distinct snap of the re-bar
as it was cut.
"Brice, Marco, I need you to hold him. I need to examine his
chest," Roy ordered. Craig held the CHP officer's head while
Marco held his feet. They carefully rolled Ponch's body over,
while Roy checked for signs of trauma. "I don't see any exit
wounds, just some small cuts." Roy looked back up at the
firemen, and nodded his head. He slid the back board under Ponch
as far as it would go. "All right, let's lay him down easy."
The three men carefully laid Ponch gently down on the back board.
Captain Stanley motioned for the ambulance attendants. Detectives’
Starsky and Hutch walked up to the CHP officer who was watching.
"What happened?" Starsky questioned. The officer continued to stare at the scene in front of him and ignored the question. Hutch leaned forward and looked at the officer's nameplate. He addressed the man with a little more authority,
"Officer Baker?" Jon tore his eyes away from Ponch and looked quickly at each of the officers,
"Yes?" he answered in a far-away tone, as he focused
his eyes on his injured partner.
"What happened?" Hutch continued.
"I'm not sure." Jon walked away from the two detectives
and over to Ponch. He watched as the firemen carefully lifted his
partner onto the stretcher.
"Carefully gentlemen. We don't want to cause permanent
paralysis or additional internal injuries," Brice cautioned.
Roy noticed the worried look in Jon's eyes, as the men continued
preparing Ponch for transport, and Brice rambling on in his
inimitable way. Roy told Brice.
"I'll go in with the patient, you take the squad." As
he was stepping into the ambulance, Officer Baker tapped him on
the shoulder.
"If it’s okay, I’d like to ride with you." Roy nodded at the officer and replied,
"That's fine, but you'll need to sit up front." As the ambulance sped away, more explosions rocked the building. The firefighters and police officers rose from their positions of cover. Hank Stanley pulled his H.T. from the pocket of his turnout coat.
"LA, this is Engine 51, we have had several explosions at
this location. Respond a second alarm assignment, and notify the
gas company to shut off all service to the area."
"Engine 51, 10-4."
"Hey! Look!" Hutch pointed at the roof of a neighboring
building. Smoke and tendrils of flame were visible.
"Chet, Marco!" yelled Hank. "Grab an inch-and-a
half and get that hot spot!" He turned to the two detectives.
"Do you guys have any idea what could be setting off these
explosions?"
~*~
While on the way to the hospital Ponch regained consciousness. In a very painful whisper, Ponch asked, "Jon what happened"? Roy leaned over,
"Jon’s up front. Don’t worry, you'll be okay. This is a bad way of getting to meet pretty nurses," Roy smiled. "But of course, that’s the way Johnny does it," Roy chuckled.
"Where do you think I learned it?" Ponch joked back. "Roy, it’s bad isn’t it?"
"Not so bad that the nurse’s at Rampart can’t fix it." Roy smiled, reassuringly as Ponch fell into unconsciousness. They pulled into the ambulance bay of Rampart General.
~*~
"Well, to answer your question, Capt. Stanley,"
Starsky began as he brushed dirt and debris from his curly dark
hair, "we received a tip from a pretty reliable source that
something was going down here."
"You what?" Captain Stanley was in shock. "You
knew this was going to happen and you let us near this place?"
He stepped in front of the detective. "Do you realize a
highway patrol officer was seriously injured? Not to mention that
we could have all been killed?" Hutch quickly stepped
between the irate Captain and his partner.
"Now wait a minute, Sir, we knew something was going down, but we didn’t know what. We’re as much in the dark as you are. As to what’s causing the explosions, we have no clue." Their conversation was interrupted as Chet approached carrying a canister that had been damaged in the explosion.
"Hey Cap, you better take a look at this." Captain
Stanley took the canister and turned it over.
"Benzene," he said, barely able to read the label.
"This, gentlemen, is what is causing the explosions. Kelly,
I want everyone back away from the building, now!" Captain
Stanley excused himself from the detectives and raced toward his
crew.
"Are you thinking what I’m thinking?" Starsky
asked, as they watched the commotion around them. They both
flinched involuntarily as another small explosion could be heard
from deep within the building.
"If you’re thinking that Huggy Bear was right; that
this somehow relates to the house earlier today, I’d say yes,
I am thinking what you are thinking. And I’d say we better
get to the bottom of this fast before someone else gets hurt."
"I’m sure Captain Stanley would appreciate that."
"It’s going to be a while before we can dig around here,"
Hutch said shoving his hands in his pockets. "Let’s
head over to Rampart and see how Officer Poncherello is doing,
and check on John Gage too - maybe he’ll be up to talking to
us." He turned away, walking toward his car.
"Right behind you, partner."
~*~
After making certain Ponch was stable, and he wasn't needed anymore, Roy quietly excused himself from the treatment room. With any luck, he'd get a minute to check on Johnny before he and Brice were called out again. He wasn't surprised to find Jon Baker waiting outside the room when opened the door.
"He's going to be fine," Roy smiled. Jon sagged
against the wall in relief. "Dr. Morton is getting ready to
take him up to surgery. He’s still unconscious, but the Doc
says you can go in for a minute if you'd like."
"Thanks Roy, for everything." Jon reached to push the
door open, but hesitated. "After the things your partner…"
"Temporary partner," Roy corrected, frowning wearily as
he recalled Brices’ actions at the scene.
"Well, temporary partner, I thought the worst," Jon explained.
"He’s a good paramedic. His bedside manner leaves a
little to be desired, but he does a very good job." Roy
smiled.
"Yeah, but no Johnny Gage, right?" Jon returned the
smile. "Any word on how Ol’ Nine lives is doing?"
Roy grinned at the name that Johnny had earned himself.
"We were wondering the same thing," Detective
Hutchinson asked. Roy jumped at the sudden interruption.
"I was going to see if I could find out," Roy said.
He gestured towards the elevator. "Let's run up to the ICU.
They might not let us past the desk, but it's worth a try."
He led the police officers to the third floor. The group
approached the chest-high desk.
"Can I help you?" asked a white-haired nurse. Hutch
opened his wallet and displayed his badge.
"We're police officers, Ma'am. We'd like to speak to one
of your patients, John Gage."
"Just a moment," she said, pushing a button on the
intercom phone and picking up the receiver. "I'll have to
check with his nurse. "Hello?" She tapped her fingers
on the desk and smiled at Roy as she waited for a response. After
her conversation was finished, she hung up the phone, and stood
up. "I'll have to go back and check, his nurse wasn’t
available." She went through the ICU doorway and disappeared.
Hutch leaned forward on his elbows, clasping his hands in front
of him. Starsky stood with his back to the desk, put his elbows
on the desktop, and crossed his feet at his ankles, looking up at
the ceiling tile. Roy put his hands deep into his pockets and
leaned against the wall, staring at a crack in the floor. A few
moments later, the nurse returned with a man wearing a rumpled
scrub top and pants, covered by a long white lab coat. Dr. Larry
Evans Internal Medicine was embroidered over the chest pocket.
All three men turned their full attention to the doctor. "His
nurse was busy, so I brought Dr. Evans. He'll be able to give you
an update on Mr. Gage's condition."
"I'm Detective Hutchinson, and this is my partner, Detective
Starsky." Hutch displayed his badge. "We need to
interview Mr. Gage as part of our investigation. Can we see him?"
Dr. Evans sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"You can see him, but I don’t think you’ll get anything out of him. He’s heavily sedated, and on a respirator. His condition is critical for now. He has inflammation in his lungs from the chemicals that he’s inhaled, and we've had problems getting enough oxygen to his tissues." He sighed. "I'm afraid it's touch and go at the moment." Roy chewed his lower lip and glanced at the floor. At times like this, he hated being a paramedic, because he understood exactly what the doctor was saying. His friend was in real trouble and there wasn’t anything he could do.
~*~
Jon was sitting in the surgery waiting room when Sgt. Getraer
walked in. He stood up.
"Jon, how’s Ponch?
"Well, Sarge, he's in surgery right now, and I’ve not
heard anything yet." Getraer looked down at his helmet.
"Ponch is strong he’ll make it." He paused a
moment. "So, can you tell me what happened?" Getraer
looked at his officer.
"Ponch and I saw the smoke and flames pouring out of the
building. We called it in and then worked crowd control. When 51
arrived there was an explosion and everyone ducked for cover.
When I looked up Ponch had re-bar sticking out of his back."
Getraer rubbed his jaw.
"Anyone suspicious stand out in your mind?" Jon thought
long and hard. He shook his head,
"No, Sarge, I didn't see a thing. When we rolled up, there were people carrying things out of the front door, but nothing unusual. We prevented anyone from going back in, and when 51 arrived, we continued with crowd control. That’s all." His Sergeant nodded his head. "Detectives’ Starsky and Hutch showed up just before we put Ponch into the ambulance."
~*~
"Was that all that you needed, detectives?" The
doctor asked.
"Yes, thank you, Doctor," Starsky responded. The doctor
started back into the ICU proper, stopped and turned toward the
worried paramedic.
"I'm sorry about your partner." Roy could only nod.
The two detectives stared nervously at their feet. The two
remembered their separate instances of worry about each other.
The blonde detective spoke up, as the doctor went back into the
ICU.
"Well, Starsk, we'd better get back over to the fire and see
what the investigator has come up with."
"Yeah, we'll check back with you later, Roy," Starsky
said, patting his shoulder. Roy nodded; there wasn't much else he
could do. The two detectives went to the elevator. Roy put both
hands into his pockets and leaned heavily on the wall. His head
lopped back and he closed his eyes to the ceiling. Hutch took a
step towards the stricken paramedic,
"You want to go down with us?" Roy smiled reassuringly at the detective.
"No, thanks, I’ll see if they’ll let me in before I have to return to duty. I’ll wait here until Brice shows up with the squad." The elevator announced it’s arrival with a ding, and the doors slid quietly open. Starsky stepped in, placing a hand against the door, waiting for his partner to join him.
"Okay, if you say so," he stepped over and entered the elevator. "Let us know."
"I will, thanks guys," Roy took a hand out of his pocket and waved as the doors closed on the elevator.
~*~
At the fire, Captain Stanley had to call for a third alarm; the building adjacent to the explosions was fully involved. He had several men inside, making sure that all the occupants were out.
~*~
Brice walked up to his temporary partner, and waited. The HT
on Roy's wrist beeped.
"Squad 51, what is your status?" Roy jumped, pulling
the HT up to his mouth.
"LA this is Squad 51, we are available."
"Return to Engine 51's location."
"Squad 51, 10-4 responding from Rampart General."
"10-4 Squad 51."
~*~
Grossman and Bear had joined Jon and Getraer in the waiting
room. Jon stepped over to the window thinking about everything
and nothing at the same time. Bear and Grossman had found the
coffee and the seats, when Dr. Morton came in to give them an
update.
"Ponch is out of surgery, still unconscious. The good news
is; the rod didn’t hit any vital organs. Amazingly, the re-bar
went between his lungs and his ribcage. But it did nick the
spinal column, and throw several vertebrae out of place. Now for
the bad news; there may be some nerve damage." Jon closed
his eyes. Morton paused a moment, and then continued, "he
may need a wheel chair. Dr. Early is our neurologist and the
tests that we ran earlier indicate there is some damage, but we
won’t know the extent until he wakes up."
~*~
Roy's hands were in a knuckle white grip around the steering
wheel, as he guided the rescue vehicle out of the parking area
and back onto the city streets. His guts were knotted into a ball
of solid lead. The thought of leaving Johnny behind, maybe dying
alone, gave him reason to pause.
He knew he had a duty to perform, service to the community of Los
Angeles...but he was human too, and right now, all he wanted was
to be at the bedside of his critically ill partner. What would it
be like...not to have Johnny in his life anymore? No! Don't even
think something like that, he corrected himself. Suddenly, he
felt his arm being nudged and he heard Brice's voice in his ear.
"The light's green, DeSoto." Roy blinked once, noticed
the light, and then started through the intersection. He gave the
steering wheel a hard yank to the left, to avoid the city bus
that had decided to ignore the red light. Roy heard Captain
Stanley’s voice over the radio.
"Squad 51, what is your ETA?" Then he heard nothing but metal on metal as the two vehicles collided. The noise was horrifying. It seemed like hours, when in fact it was only ten minutes; he heard the distant sounds of rescue vehicles approaching. With the sirens nearing, he slipped back into the peaceful darkness that surrounded him like a soft blanket, where pain was not an issue.
~*~
"It's a good thing DeSoto veered to the left, or the
impact would've crushed the front end," remarked Vince
Howard as he pushed his helmet up. He watched as the firefighters
worked to extricate Roy and Brice from the wreckage.
"Yeah," commented Captain O'Malley of Engine 46. "The
bus driver looks pretty spaced out." Vince nodded, as DeSoto
was carried on a backboard, which was placed on the ground.
"We're running a check on him now." The paramedics quickly brought Brice from the wreckage.
"Cap!" yelled Harry Nillson, one of the medics.
"Can you give us a hand here?"
"Sure." Captain O'Malley trotted over and knelt beside
Nillson. He gestured to Brice, then to Roy. "How are they?"
"They should be okay." Nillson gestured to DeSoto.
"Roy has a compound fracture of his left femur, possible rib
and elbow fractures and a possible concussion. He's been in and
out." He gestured to Brice. "He took the worst of it, I'm
afraid." Nillson started the IV that had been ordered by
Rampart. "He has tib-fib fractures, definite rib fractures
of the right side, and a radius and ulna fracture. Some of those
facial lacerations are nasty, too. He'll be out of commission for
a while, I'm afraid." He held up the primed IV bag. "Can
you hold this, Cap?" Captain O'Malley nodded, and held the
bag as Nillson hooked the tubing to the catheter in Brice's arm.
Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He
turned and watched as paramedics from Station 110 loaded the
agitated bus driver into the first ambulance. Man, he must be on
some heavy-duty stuff. He's really flailing. He looked down when
he heard Roy moan. "Take it easy, DeSoto. You're going to be
okay."
"Brice?" asked Roy, weakly.
"He'll be fine, too," replied Captain O'Malley.
"The bus came out of nowhere," Roy moaned again. "Couldn't
stop."
"There wasn't anything you could do to avoid it."
Captain O'Malley looked at the battered squad. "You're turn
probably saved your lives. The cops will get to the bottom of it."
He sighed and watched Roy's eyes close.
~*~
"Engine 51, squad 51 has been involved in an bus/vehicle accident. Both men are en-route to Rampart, squad 18 will respond to your location, ETA 15 minutes."
"Engine 51, 10-4," Hank responded into the HT. Cap looked at Mike, and shook his head. "What a day, Mike. Both of my paramedics are in the hospital, and now Brice is out, too. Who knows who we’ll get now."
~*~
The ambulance pulled up to the automatic doors of Rampart's
emergency room. Nillson opened the rear doors and the attendants
helped to remove the gurney from the back. Roy began swinging his
arms wildly. They were trying to restrain the paramedic as they
moved him quickly into the corridor towards a treatment room. Dr.
Brackett and Dixie rushed to the aid of the attendants and
Nillson.
"Roy," Dr. Brackett ordered, "calm down! You're at
Rampart!" Brackett was not getting through to the distressed
and injured man. Dixie moved to take Roy's hand in an effort to
calm him. He struck out, blindly, at his tormentors. His fist
impacted Dixie's cheek with tremendous force, sending her
careening into the wall.
"Dix!" shouted Dr. Brackett as she crumbled to the
floor, unconscious. "Get him into Treatment 3!"
Brackett snapped at the attendants as he rushed to Dixie's side.
~*~
The only thing remaining of the warehouse was a smoldering
pile of ruin. Chief McConnikee had released the crew of Engine 51,
who were tiredly gathering their equipment.
"Man, I don’t remember the last time I was this worn
out." Chet stretched his back before sitting down to rest on
the running board of the engine. "I don’t think I can
move another muscle." Marco took a seat beside him leaning
his head back and closing his eyes.
"Amen."
"Hey," Chet exclaimed after surveying their immediate
surroundings. "Where are Roy and Brice? How did they get out
of clean-up?" He was sure there hadn’t been any
injuries at the scene of the fire that would require a trip to
Rampart. Marco glanced around looking for the wayward paramedics.
"I can answer that." Captain Stanley approached the
engine followed closely by detectives Starsky and Hutch. "They
were involved in a bus/squad accident on their way back."
Chet and Marco instantly jumped to their feet forgetting the
weariness they felt moments before.
"What?" Marco exclaimed.
"They were hit by a city bus on their way back. The driver
was spaced out on LSD and ran a light. They were both seriously
injured, but from what I understand, nothing life threatening."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "What do you say we
get this wrapped up and go home?" Starsky and Hutch quietly
watched as the fireman hurriedly gathered their remaining
equipment and prepared to leave.
"You know Hutch," Starsky whispered, "He’s
beginning to make Capt. Dobey look like a softy."
"Not a chance. Let’s see if we dig anything up out of
this mess." Hutch turned and started walking toward the
remains of the warehouse.
~*~
Dr. Brackett found Dixie unconscious from the impact of Roy's fist. He started checking her for head trauma. She was bleeding from her nose and mouth, and as Kel felt the back of her head, he found a rather large lump forming. Nearby, an orderly was pushing a gurney down the corridor. Kel ordered,
"Bob, bring that gurney here!" With the ambulance attendant and the orderly, Dr. Brackett gently lifted Dixie on the table, and headed for a treatment room.
~*~
"Hey, Starsky, Hutch!" yelled Chief McConnikee. Both detectives stopped in their tracks.
"Yeah, Chief?" asked Hutch.
"You two aren't going near that place without turnout gear
and a helmet." McConnikee rubbed his soot-stained forehead.
"Once you're properly equipped, you'll find the investigator
inside."
"Right, Chief," sighed Starsky. The two detectives
quickly borrowed the equipment and threaded their way past the
firefighters exiting the remains of the warehouse. They met up
with a tall, burly man who was sniffing a pile of rubble. Starsky
glanced at Hutch. "Stevens. This day's getting better and
better." Hutch sighed and patted Starsky gently on the back.
Stevens picked up a metal fragment from the pile of rubble and
examined it closely. He stood up, and smiled at Starsky and Hutch.
"How are two of my favorite boys from Central doing?"
~*~
Dr. Morton hurried down the corridor to the emergency room and
watched in disbelief as Dr. Brackett and an orderly pushed the
gurney with Dixie on it into the treatment room. He followed the
men.
"Kel! What happened?" Morton asked. Brackett looked up
briefly at the intern before returning his attention back to
examine Dixie's eyes with the pen light.
"Roy decked her!" he snapped.
"What? Roy? What happened?" Dixie moaned in a semi-conscious
state and tried to sit up. Both Brackett and Morton put gentle,
but restraining, hands on her shoulders, easing her back on the
exam table.
"Easy, Dix, easy. Just lie still," Kel soothed. Dixie
struggled to open her eyes. Her face and her head hurt like hell.
She felt like crying and she wasn't sure, but she felt mad enough
to spit nails.
~*~
Meanwhile across town, a small group of men moved barrels into
a small room. They wore masks over their mouths and noses. A man
and woman stood apart looking at a sheet of paper. "We're
way behind schedule here. I don't like this at all."
"Yeah, well, you aren’t paid to like it. All you have
to do is what you're told. If you got a problem with that, you
take it up with the boss." He nodded over at a man pointing
at a barrel. "Until then, you keep your mouth shut, your
opinions to yourself, and your mind on your orders." He
looked at the woman standing beside him. He never liked bringing
a woman in on this. "You give me half a reason, and I'll
make sure you're out of this permanent like. You hear?"
"I hear you" the woman walked away.
~*~
The engineer backed Big Red into her parking space at the
station. So much had happened in such a short time. As the sound
of the diesel engine died in the truck bay, all four men
disembarked.
Captain Stanley made his way around the big rig and stopped short
in front of the vacant spot where the squad should have been. He
shook his head wearily and sighed. He turned and looked into the
expectant faces of his men. Hank sighed heavily again, what could
he say to allay their fears? Heck, what could he say to allay his
fears? Besides calling the hospital, it also meant he needed to
call next of kin. "I'll go call the hospital and see what I
can find out," he stated. Everyone remained quiet as Hank
made his way, wearily, into his office. The three men crowded
into the small doorway, and watched him sit behind his desk. He
pulled the chair close. Papers littered his desk; he gathered
them up, and began to straighten them when the edge of one of the
sheets sliced into his finger.
"Ouch!" the Captain cried out in pain. The offending
cut began to bleed and he stuck it in his mouth, hoping that
would make it feel better. He looked up at the expectant faces,
pulled his finger quickly out of his mouth, and reached for the
phone so he could call the hospital. "I’m calling HQ
first, so you guys can go take your showers." He saw the
three men slowly leave the doorway, and he turned his attention
back to dialing the phone.
~*~
"I don't believe it!" Dixie exclaimed. "Of all
people to get violent. Brice, I would have expected, but Roy?"
Dixie shook her head, and regretted it. She sighed as she
arranged the ice pack on her nose.
"Well," said Dr. Brackett soothingly, "don't be
too sore at him. He didn't mean it." Dixie lifted the ice
pack and shot an evil look at Kel.
"I know that, Kel. I'm mad at myself for not getting out
of the way. My reflexes are better than that," she paused.
"Do you have the results of the x-rays yet?" She
settled the ice pack back on her face and lay back on the
stretcher.
"I'll go check," Brackett flashed a half-smile at Dix
and headed for the door. "Mike," he said to Dr. Morton,
"better call ENT for a consult." Morton nodded. He
returned his attention to Dixie. "I'll check on Roy and
Brice for you." Dixie smiled.
"Thank you, Kel."
~*~
Lindsey Marshall looked out the window of her apartment and considered the merits of good and evil. Not even a week ago she would have proclaimed, without pause, that survival by any means justified any action. Tonight that had changed. A brief glimpse at a news report had shaken the moral code she had developed to justify her actions. Police and firemen in serious conditions, mysterious explosions and fires, a baby clinging to life, how could she excuse that? Even the knowledge that she was ignorant of the contents of certain containers wasn't going to give her any peace. She recognized the addresses; she knew the woman and child. What the hell had she gotten herself into, and how was she going to get out of it alive.
~*~
Captain Stanley hung up the phone and got up slowly from his
desk. He winced as he felt the sting of his paper cut. He
muttered to himself about the perils of his job, and wandered
into the day room.
Mike was pouring a fresh cup of coffee when Hank entered the room.
Marco was sitting on the sofa reading the paper with Henry’s
head in his lap. Marco had done as he had asked, so hadn’t
Mike.
"Where's Chet?" Stanley asked. Marco looked up from the
paper.
"Finishing up on his shower, Cap." Stanley nodded and
placed his hands on his hips for a second before crossing to the
coffeepot. He poured himself a fresh cup. He took a cautious sip
and then savored the hot brew. He turned back to the room.
"As soon as Kelly's changed we'll head over to Rampart,"
he informed Mike and Marco.
"Did they say how they're doing?" Mike asked.
"No change with Johnny. And they should know more about Roy
and Brice by the time we get there," he explained. "Dr.
Morton said something about Roy hitting Dixie. I can't wait to
hear about that one." Chet entered the room shaking his wet
head.
"Hey guys, what's up?"
"Let's go," Hank ordered. The men headed for the engine.
Chet turned around confused.
"Go? Go where?" Chet wanted to know.
"Rampart, you twit!" Hank grumbled as he went to the
microphone.
"LA, Engine 51, 10-8 to Rampart General."
"10-4, Engine 51." The bay doors opened as Mike started the motor of the engine. Once everyone was aboard, he steered the big vehicle down the driveway and turned toward the hospital.
~*~
Lindsey walked the halls of Rampart General hoping to look casual. Seeing a nurse at the front desk, she plastered what she hoped was a slightly concerned, but curious smile on her face.
"Excuse me miss, I was here visiting a friend and I thought I heard this was where they had brought that poor baby and those officers. Are they doing any better?" The nurse looked up from her paper work to see a young woman smiling at her.
"I'm sorry, but unless you're family we can't release any
information."
"No, I’m not family, I was passing by and was curious."
"There are some detectives right down the hall, they might be able to answer your questions." She motioned to someone over Lindsey's shoulder. She turned to see the two detectives Howie had warned her about. She turned back to the young nurse and began to back away from the desk while keeping her face turned from the two men.
"Please, I don't want to trouble anyone. I… I have
to be going."
"It's no trouble Starsky...Hutch," she turned to motion
to the detectives, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched
the young woman practically run down the hallway.
"What’s up?" Starsky asked.
"There was a young woman here asking about the baby and the
officers." The detectives rushed to the door only to find an
empty lot. They walked back to the desk. "Do you know who
she was?"
"No, she wanted to know how they were. She sure didn't want
to talk to you guys."
"Can you describe her?" Hutch asked
"Young, dark hair, light colored eyes, she hid it well, but
she has some scarring on the left side of her face, maybe old
burns." Starsky turned to Hutch.
"Coincidence?"
"Not if we're lucky" came the reply. The young nurse
looked at the two men.
"What are you talking about?"
"At all the locations that we’ve had under surveillance
there has been a young woman with dark hair involved. She had one
distinguishing feature.... burn scars. You may have met our
suspect."
~*~
Howie had never claimed to be smart, or even half-intelligent for that matter, but even he knew something was up. The boss never met with underlings, choosing to intimidate by proxy, but here he stood, looking at Howie in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck, if he had a neck, stand on end. Howie was large man; years of body-building had pumped his shoulders up to his ears, and his limbs to four times their natural size. The boss was by no means a tall man. If he was five foot, it was due to padded shoes. He did have the coldest eyes Howie had ever seen. Yes, Howie was scared, and because he didn’t understand exactly why he was scared, he was alarmingly close to terrified.
"Howie you disappoint me. I was told that you were the
best man for the job. I do believe, you assured me of that
yourself. Yet, my merchandise has become the fuel of news reports,
and witnesses are reclining in hospital beds, waiting to regale
the authorities with tales of my activities, albeit no one can
identify me as yet, but given time, your mistakes will lead to me.
I don’t like that Howie; it makes me uneasy. I brought you
here to ease my mind. I expect you to tell me, that all is under
control." Howie’s knees were shaking despite his will.
When he hesitated, the boss became angrier. "Howie, ease my
mind." Howie stared nervously into his boss’ angry eyes.
"NOW!" He yelled.
"Boss it’s like this…I mean it ain’t nothing
to worry about. Honest, boss I already found the reason the last
shipment was low. That bus driver, who was delivering for you,
took some for himself. I’ve already got boys out looking for
him, and the new barrels are safe. Lindsey and I were there
ourselves when they delivered them."
"Ah, yes, Lindsey. I had entertained the notion of lifting
that young woman up to a more prominent position in my service.
At least temporarily, even with the damage to her face, she would
have made a charming companion. However, I’m afraid she must
be watched carefully. When I last spoke to her, she sounded….
a bit remorseful… admirable, but a luxury she can not afford.
If she proves disloyal, I expect you to handle it. Understand?"
"Sure boss, no problem. I never liked her anyway."
"Good. Now then, the gentlemen from New York will be
arriving in a few days. Until then I want the merchandise
protected."
"Yes sir."
"Oh, and Howie, you do know why I met with you in person,
don’t you?" Howie shook his head no quickly. The boss
continued. "It’s an incentive. You see, now you can
identify me," he menacingly patted Howie’s cheek.
"If I think I’m in danger," he paused to let the
next statement sink in. "You are expendable," he paused,
threateningly, "understand?" Howie swallowed the lump
in his throat.
"Yes boss."
~*~
An hour later, Howie watched Lindsey walk to a small store. He
followed her as she walked to the bus stop, sat on a bench, and
looked down at her watch. He was tempted to rush but instead
waited to see if anyone else would stop and wait with her. He
thought of the information he had received. The visit to the
hospital was a serious matter. He knew that the cops had been
hanging out at the hospital because of one of their own. People
were beginning to talk of her involvement with the storage sites,
and Howie was beginning to get nervous. He knew his own life was
on the line. He had made up his mind; he had to do this now.
Lindsey never noticed the decrease in foot traffic, or the man
moving up behind her. She never heard the shot either.
~*~
Roy backed the squad into the engine bay and turned the
ignition off, slumping against the seat with a wearied sigh.
Johnny tiredly rubbed his eyes, neither man exiting the vehicle.
"I can’t believe this night…run, after run, after
run…the engine has only had that one fire all night. Man, do
I envy those guys right now."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Roy hesitated a moment
longer, then opened the door. "Let’s see if they left
any supper for us."
"I’d just be happy for a cup of coffee right now. If
that stupid dog yips all night again, I swear it’s going to
be purebred patties." Roy rolled his eyes; his partners’
ranting had gone on all shift long. He was hoping that food would
prove to be enough of a distraction to end his tirade. "Are
you feeling better?" Roy asked as Johnny rounded the squad.
"So-so." Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. "I
think all I need is a real good nights’ sleep, that’s
all."
They trudged into the kitchen, in time to see a bright red Grand
Torino roar across the television screen. The room was empty, and
quiet, except for Chet, who was sprawled out on the couch with
Henry draped across his chest, snoring. Johnny held his hand up,
indicating for Roy to be quiet, and quickly filled a glass with
water before silently approaching the prone man.
"I don’t think…," Roy warned.
"Shh!" Johnny stepped up to the arm of the couch and
held the glass aloft, but wavered. Chet did help him out of that
bathroom window. They might both be dead if not for Chet’s
agility with the K-12.
"Gage, put that glass down, you twit." Surprised at hearing his Captain’s voice, Johnny nearly dropped the glass, sloshing water on Chet’s face. Johnny jumped back, expecting Chet to fly off the couch, but Chet only moaned and didn’t move. Wary of being duped by the Phantom, Johnny gingerly reached out and shook Chet’s shoulder but still got no response other than a weak moan. Concerned, Johnny knelt down beside the sleeping firefighter, leaving his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Chet." He shook Chet’s shoulder again, noticing that Chet’s shoulder was a little warmer than it should be.
"Must be some dream to keep Chet from picking on you," Roy smiled. Johnny lifted his wrist up to Chet’s forehead.
"Man, Roy, he’s burning up." He picked up Chet’s
wrist and took his pulse.
"Drugs…dangerous chick…Hutch…have to help
Ponch…Johnny…Roy wrecked…" Chet began
squirming and mumbling incoherently. Johnny looked up at his
partner.
"Roy, can you go get the equipment, and Cap, can you call us
an ambulance?" Captain Stanley nodded and left the kitchen,
Roy following closely behind him. Johnny frowned as Chet
continued to mumble about an array of television characters and
wondering what any of it had to do with him and Roy. Johnny
quickly shooed Henry from his resting-place. "Sorry boy, you’re
going to have to find another place to sleep for tonight."
Henry whimpered as he sauntered to a less comfortable place, on
the opposite end of the couch. Shivering, Chet wrapped his arms
across his chest.
"Howie shot her…Jon will save her…fire…not
an accident…" His ramblings stopped as he began to
cough uncontrollably. Having retrieved their equipment, Roy
joined Johnny at Chet’s side and began setting up the
biophone to contact Rampart.
"The ambulance is on the way," Captain Stanley
announced returning to the day room. "ETA is about five
minutes. What is he talking about?"
"I’m not sure Cap, something about drugs and a wreck."
Johnny wrapped the BP Cuff around Chet’s arm as he spoke.
"He’s really out of it. Was he complaining of anything
earlier?" Cap sighed, wearily running his hand through his
hair.
"His eyes looked a little red and he said he had a sore
throat, was coughing quite a bit, but I thought he had taken in
too much smoke today. It didn’t seem like anything serious."
Johnny and Roy quickly completed their initial assessment and
relayed Chet’s vital signs to Rampart.
"Rampart, pulse is 80, BP is 125/80, respiration is 20.
Temperature is 104. Patient is somewhat incoherent and suffering
bouts of spontaneous coughing. He was complaining of a sore
throat earlier and has some redness around the eyes." Roy
paused, waiting for Rampart’s response.
"Squad 51," they recognized Dr. Early’s voice.
"Does patient have any other symptoms, nausea or maybe a
rash?"
"Standby Rampart." Johnny gently turned Chet’s
head examining his face and throat.
"I don’t see anything…no wait, yeah, right here
behind his ears, blotchy red spots. Looks like it’s starting
down his neck too."
"That’s affirmative on the rash Rampart. Blotchy red
spots starting behind the ears and down his neck."
"Squad 51, start an IV, normal saline TKO," Dr. Early
advised. "Monitor vitals and transport as soon a possible."
"10-4 Rampart, Squad 51 out," Roy began to help Johnny
get Chet ready for transport.
"What is it?" Captain Stanley anxiously inquired as he
stopped pacing.
"Well, if I had to guess," Roy replied, "I’d
say Chet here, has a good old fashioned case of the measles."
"Oh man," groaned Johnny. "I don’t believe it."
Roy looked at his partner.
"What, you have had them, haven’t you?"
"Of course," John said, uncertainly. "Every kid
gets them, right? I’m sure that I had them." Roy raised
his eyebrows.
"You don’t sound sure."
"I had them…." John snickered nervously. Roy shrugged.
"Okay, you want to ride in with him?" Johnny shook his head.
"No, I’ll drive the squad." The ambulance arrived and they quickly loaded Chet onto it. John hit the back door twice and watched as the ambulance pulled away. He climbed into the squad. Before starting the engine, he spoke softly to the empty cab.
"Did I have measles? I know I had chicken pox…and mumps…I must’ve had measles. I’ll call mom when I get back… to be sure."
~*~
Two days later, Roy opened the door to room 204, popping his head in. "Hey, Chet!" he greeted the fellow firefighter. "How are you feeling?"
"Roy!" Chet eagerly said, glad for the distraction.
He was feeling better and was definitely antsy. "I’m
good. I am a lot better than I was. I wish I could get out of
here, though. I’m really bored." Roy stepped up to the
bed.
"You gave us a scare! You must have been having some dream."
Chet grinned.
"I guess, I don’t remember much. It must have been
the fever."
"Yeah," Roy said. He turned to the man in the bed next
to Chet. "Hi, Johnny. How do you feel?" Johnny groaned,
shivering. He had just been admitted with a high fever and the
telltale rash; obviously, he hadn’t had the measles before.
"I feel awful," giving his roomee a nasty look.
"I keep telling you, it’s not my fault," Chet said.
"I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know? I’m not a
paramedic you know." Roy shook his head.
"Actually, Chet, I’m the one who should be sorry. Remember that barbecue we had a couple of weeks ago, and you guys were playing with Chris, and my nephew, Danny?" Chet nodded; Johnny stared at his partner and coughed. "Well," Roy continued, "turned out that Danny came down with the measles right after that. That’s when you were exposed to them. We found out about Danny yesterday. Joanne was talking to her sister, telling her about Johnny, and that’s when she told us about Danny." Chet grinned.
"Good! See, Gage I told you its not my fault. Hey Roy, did I tell you about the time I was a kid and…." Johnny flipped over in the bed pulling the covers up as far as they would go. Maybe Chet didn’t make him sick…. but he was driving him crazy. Roy giggled as he watched his partner bury himself under the covers.
"Hey, Chet, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to get going, Joanne is waiting for the car at home. I’ll check on you two later," he began backing out of the room. Johnny quickly flipped the covers back and glared at his partner. Chet rolled over to begin regaling Johnny with the tales of his exploits as a child.
"Chet, I don’t want to hear it." Johnny tersely answered. "Save it for your nurse."
"Some patient you are, Gage," came the retort. Roy
smiled as the door slowly went closed. He walked away, grinning,
and absent-mindedly rubbing at the small red spots that had
broken out on his hand.
THE END