When Hell Breaks Loose
by Tangee, Pat, Katy, Goober, Sheryl, KC, Alice, Robin, Cameron, Susie, Teresa, & Starbuck.
Chapter One:
John Gage leaned against the wall of the shower as hot pellets of water hit his back. Little drops of black grime ran down his body to the shower floor before disappearing into the drain. He sighed deeply as he waited for the smoke and grime to wash away. This last fire had been a bad one.
The tones woke the men of station 51 and sent them into the dark at 2 a.m. When they pulled up to Adam's Arcade, the biggest video arcade in Southern California, it was fully involved, and little could be done. Thankfully, it had happened in the middle of the night. If this had happened at 4 p.m., the place would have been packed with teen and pre-teen children playing video games. It took them hours to knock back the flames.
This was the 3rd fire in a month, and all three had been a children’s establishment. First, the candy store, then the Toys R Us, now the Arcade. Johnny began thinking of the investigation. He had over heard one of the investigators telling Captain Stanley that the three fires had occurred on adjacent shifts.
"I’m hoping it’s just coincidence," John heard. "It just seems weird that the candy store happened on B-shift, then C-shift had Toys R Us, and now this one on A-shift."
"What kind of person would torch a place where children would be?" Hank asked.
"A sicko," the investigator replied, dropping his head. "Someone with real problems."
"Well, if there’s anything my men can do to help,
let me know," Hank told the officer. Johnny’s thoughts
floated to his partner. Roy told him he’d catch his shower
at home. He said something about wanting to hold his kids. Johnny
knew it had to be hard on Roy, what with his children and all;
especially on fires that dealt with children. Johnny suddenly had
an overwhelming urge to hug Roy’s kids; after all, he loved
them like they were his own.
He turned the water off, grabbed the towel that hung over the top
of the shower door, quickly dried off, wrapped the towel around
his waist, and headed to his locker to get dressed.
"Rough one, wasn't it John?" John looked around to find
Marco standing near the end of the row of lockers.
"It certainly was." Johnny opened his locker door. "I'm just glad it didn't happen when the place was crowded. What's with this fruitcake, anyway?" Marco shrugged.
"Sounds like he's got a case against anything that could make a kid happy. I wonder if he was abused or something when he was a kid." It was Johnny’s turn to shrug his shoulders.
"Maybe, you never know," he replied. "I can't
wait to get home to get some sleep," he shook his head, as
he pulled up his pants. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."
"What about the surprise party?" Marco questioned.
"I think Chris would be pretty upset if his Uncle Johnny
didn't make it." Johnny grimaced.
"Oh man, I thought that was next week. You mean to tell me, it's tonight? Roy didn't say anything." Marco shrugged.
"I thought it was tonight, maybe I’m wrong."
"I’ll call Joanne when I get home just to be sure. I'll
stop and get something for him on the way home," Johnny
sighed.
~*~
As Roy put the key in the lock to his home, he could hear the
kids screaming, the dog barking, and Joanne clanging the
breakfast pans from the cabinet.
"Will you two cut it out! Your dad will be home any minute
and I don't think he wants to listen to your fighting!"
"But mom, Chris spit on me!"
"You spit on me first!"
"Just cause it's your birthday, you think you're special!"
She stuck her tongue out at him. Roy stepped into the kitchen
smiling, his white teeth glowing in contrast to his gritty, grimy
face.
"Daddy!" Jen squealed and jumped up into his dirty
arms. "You're all dirty, and you stink!" She pinched
her nose closed. Chris stepped up to his dad and hugged his waist.
Roy kissed both children on the cheek, placing Jen on the floor.
Joanne stepped over to him giving him a quick peck on the lips.
"Bad night?" She asked, inspecting his dirtiness.
"I'll tell you after my shower." He headed down the
hallway towards the bathroom. "It's good to be home."
"Breakfast in twenty," Joanne called after him.
"Sounds good, I'll be there!" he responded, closing the
bathroom door.
~*~
"Hey Gage...any chance of you staying on for a few more hours?" Captain Wayne Bartley called out, as Gage made his way through the engine bay, towards the open door, and escape. Johnny stopped and looked back at the commanding officer. "Tony's out sick. Somebody forgot to send the message," Bartley explained. "Hawkins is coming in, but he can't get here until noon." Johnny hesitated before responding. He was beat, every muscle in his body was achy, and he really didn’t have a good reason to go home other than to sleep. He gave a slow nod.
"Sure, Cap... no problem."
"Thanks! Appreciate it, Gage." Bartley returned to his
office as Johnny turned back towards the locker room. He had just
gotten to the doorway, when the tones sounded, followed by the
Dispatcher's voice:
"Engine 17.... Station 42.... Battalion 4.... Foam Truck 7…
Station 51... Structure fire... 2727 Wilder Way, McClaren Hall....
Two, seven, two, seven Wilder Way, McClaren Hall. Time Out: 8:27."
Tossing his jacket into the locker room, Johnny turned and bolted
toward the Squad, then remembered that he was actually filling in
for one of the engine crew from this shift. Turning abruptly, he
darted over, making the climb and yanking on his turnout gear all
in one swift move. Once he was settled into his seat, he allowed
his mind to register the address. McClaren Hall was one of the
largest children’s shelters in LA.
John was jolted back as the engine sped off after the squad,
sirens blaring. As they neared the area, they could see the black
smoke billowing into the bright, blue morning sky, before they
were even half way there.
They pulled up to the building. The engine slowed, hoses
dropping behind it. There were large crowds gathered across the
streets in every direction. Johnny saw a small group of
approximately 20 children huddled together. Surely, that, can’t
be all the children, can it?
The crew jumped down and John listened to the captain shout their
assignments.
"Gage, you go with Dwyer and Smith... We need to make a
sweep through the building. We have to make sure all those kids
are out," he ordered. All three men nodded and quickly
donned their SCBA. When they were ready, they headed into the
building.
~*~
Roy could hear the phone ringing down the hall as he opened
the bathroom door.
"Yes, Chief, he's right here," Joanne said into the
phone, as Roy stepped up behind her, holding a towel around his
waist. She handed him the receiver and he placed it up to his ear.
"Hello, Chief."
"DeSoto, I know that you just got off shift but we're really
short handed and need another paramedic at the McClaren Children's
shelter. It's a big one."
"Sure, Chief. All I need to do is get dressed."
"Thanks DeSoto." Roy hung up.
"I got to go," Roy said, kissing Joanne's cheek. "The
McClaren Children's shelter is on fire and they're short a
paramedic."
"Oh, honey," both parents looked lovingly over at their
children. "Hurry." She pecked his cheek before he
hurried down to their room, to get dressed.
~*~
"Gage, go down the right hallway." Dwyer said
through his mask, pointing. Johnny nodded. As he headed down the
hallway, he noticed that most of the doors were shut. He pounded
on the first door.
"LA COUNTY FIRE DEPARTMENT! YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THE BUILDING!"
He shouted. When he received no answer he turned the knob and
pushed the door in. He searched the room and found it empty.
Using his chalk, he marked the door with a giant X. He did the
same to all the rooms down the hallway; he found them all as
empty as the first one. As he started back towards Dwyer, he
thought he heard something. He stopped and listened, holding his
breath, so that the oxygen that he was breathing didn't hiss. It
was very faint, but he could hear a child crying. He followed the
sound to a small closet that he had already searched. He pushed
the door open and the sound stopped. He moved away from the door
and waited. The sound started again. There was a child in the
closet that didn't want to be found. He listened closely for the
direction of the sobbing and then stepped into the closet again.
The crying stopped. He closed the door and behind it, curled into
a tiny ball was a little girl of 7. He bent over and picked her
up into his arms.
"Leave me alone! I want to die!" She screamed at him,
flailing her arms wildly. "It's all my fault!" she
cried, repeatedly.
"Come on Sweetheart," Johnny told her. Suddenly, there
was an explosion. He twisted his body away from the explosion
protecting her, taking the full force of the blast against his
back.
~*~
Dwyer finished his sweep, finding a group of 5 to 6 kids
huddled together in a playroom. With Smith's help, he was able to
get the children down the hall and out the front door. As they
exited the building, they were all knocked to the ground by the
force of an explosion.
Dwyer and Smith quickly jumped to their feet, making a quick
evaluation of the situation. No one had been injured and they
signaled to several men to come help take the children away from
danger. Dwyer looked around for Gage. He hoped that Johnny would
not be inside. The right wing was almost fully engaged by this
point.
"DeSoto's gonna kill me." Dwyer mumbled, as he went
back into the building.
~*~
As DeSoto pulled up to the site, it was pure pandemonium. Children crying, adults were tending to the more injured ones, and firefighters getting positioned for another attack. As Roy excited his car, there was an explosion that almost knocked him off of his feet. Hope everyone’s out. He shut his car door and ran over to the Battalion Chief in charge.
~*~
Johnny took a deep breath. The pain raced through his body.
Everything hurt. The little girl was lying under him barely
breathing. He mentally assessed his body starting with his feet
and moving upwards. His legs were pinned under something. He
could move them but not remove them from their prison. He rolled;
as best, he could, off of the little girl. Her legs were pinned
under his belly. He could feel the sides of her shoes poking his
abdomen. He first slowly lifted first his left arm, then his
right; they weren’t broken. He slowly moved his head; as far
as he could tell, his parts were all in working order. Painfully,
but at least in working order. He looked over at the little girl.
She was covered with a fine layer of drywall dust and soot. He
reached up with his right hand and took her wrist. Counting her
pulse, he was satisfied with a strong beat. He slipped his mask
off and placed it over her face.
"Here, sugar, take some deep breaths for me." He told
her, as he rested his head on his bicep. "Man, I'm glad Chet's
not here."
~*~
Dwyer looked down the hallway at the encroaching flames. He
pulled the H.T. from his pocket. "Engine 51, this is H.T. 51."
"Go ahead H.T. 51." replied the captain.
"Cap, Gage is in here somewhere. It's getting hotter, so we
could use some back-up!"
"10-4, H.T. 51." Dwyer stuck the H.T. in his pocket and
gestured down the hallway.
"He was searching down here, wasn't he?" He asked
Smith.
"Yeah," Smith answered. Smith and Dwyer retraced Johnny's
steps. Each room turned up nothing. In the final room, they found
Johnny pinned under parts of the ceiling.
John coughed intermittently as he tried to hold himself off of
the child as best he could.
"Are you okay?" Dwyer asked.
"Yeah," Johnny said, disgustedly and gestured to the
boards covering his legs. "I'm stuck. Get the girl!" He
gestured towards the injured child, and then put his mask over
his face. Dwyer pulled on Johnny’s shoulder lifting him a
little more off of the small girl. Smith pulled her out from
under Johnny and covered her face with his mask as he hurried
from the building. As he ran out of the building, he almost ran
over Roy DeSoto and Chet Kelly. They were adjusting their masks
and getting ready to go in.
"We heard a code I," Roy said. Smith didn’t stop,
but hurried over to the treatment area.
"Yeah, it's Gage. Dwyer’s gonna need some help getting
him out! Better hurry!" Smith yelled. Roy looked at Chet.
Chet shook his head and picked up the inch and a half that lay at
his feet. The two men finished pulling on their masks and
proceeded into the building.
~*~
Dwyer was moving the debris off of John as fast as he could.
"You doing okay, Johnny?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied, as he went into another
fit of coughing, "hurry!" Dwyer was moving as quickly
as he could. This was definitely more than a one man job.
"Hang in there, buddy!" Dwyer spoke, in a reassuring tone. He didn't like the sound of that cough. "Help's on the way."
~*~
Chet lead the way inside, pulling the inch-and-a-half hose, hitting hot spots as he saw them. Roy yanked down his face masked and yelled, "Dwyer?" Then louder, "DWYER?"
"In here!" they heard the faint sounds of Dwyer's
voice responding to the call.
"Keep talking!" Roy ordered. "How’s Johnny?"
"He’s taken in a lot of smoke, and has a real bad
cough. He’s pinned under a lot of debris, which I’m
trying to remove, and don’t feel like I’m making any
progress." They entered the room where the two men were.
They spotted Dwyer struggling with the debris, and Roy maneuvered
around the mess to join in the extrication of his partner. Chet
remained stationed at the doorway, working to keep the fire at
bay. "We need the K-12 in here," Dwyer told Roy,
indicating the thick beams that had entrapped Gage. Roy nodded,
promptly yanking out his HT, and relaying the request to the
Battalion Chief. Slipping the HT back into his pocket, he bent
down to check on his partner, whose chest heaved with the effort
of breathing.
"Hey, Johnny, how are you doing?" Gage blinked, and
managed to wheeze out,
"Roy?" He turned in time to see Chet join them.
Great, the one person he didn’t want to see.
"Frank and Henry are coming with the K-12," Chet told
them. "Hey, Gage, I can't leave you alone for a minute, can
I?" Chet teased in an effort to mask his concern. A hint of
the familiar grin from beneath the face mask appeared, followed
by,
"I guess not."
"What's the matter Gage?" the Irishman joked. "Don't
you get into enough trouble on our shift?" Johnny wanted to
respond but was interrupted by another bout of coughing.
Dwyer looked at Roy, and whispered,
"He's getting worse." It was all Johnny could do to
draw air into his lungs, which now burned like they were on fire
all the way to his toes. It didn't help that the room was
starting to sway and get fuzzy around the edges. He started
coughing harder. Roy placed a hand on his friend's shoulder,
giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"You take it easy, we'll have you out of here in no time."
Johnny nodded his understanding and tried to draw in a deep
breath. He felt the pain radiate through out his rib cage and
into his back. A moan escaped his lips. "You still with us,
Johnny?" Roy asked, glancing worriedly at his partner.
Johnny was straining to breathe. Roy could hear the wheezing in
his chest. Johnny nodded; all other responses required too much
effort. He concentrated on breathing as Dwyer, Chet and Roy
continued to clear the debris. Frank and Henry from Engine 17,
started up the K-12 and began cutting on the large beams that lay
across Johnny’s legs. After what seemed like forever, John
began to feel a freedom around his legs. When the last of the
debris was pulled away, he tried to stand, but a shooting pain in
his left leg stopped him. Roy reached out to catch him. "Take
it easy. Let us do the work." John’s tank alarm sounded,
and Roy took off his mask, placing it over John's face. "Here,"
John gulped in the air greedily. Johnny felt strong arms lifting
him onto his feet. Dwyer and Roy wrapped their arms around his
back and supported his weight. There was no way that he would be
able to walk out of this building of his own volition. Chet
followed picking up the hose on the way out the door.
"We'd better move!" yelled Dwyer, over his shoulder to
the others. They hurried down the hallway, the front door in
sight. As they reached the front hall, another explosion shook
the doomed building, knocking all the men to the ground and
sealing their exit.
~*~
No one knew how long they lay on the ground. Roy, Dwyer, and Frank sat up simultaneously. Roy looked down at his partner, knowing that time was running out.
"Johnny, you okay?" He didn't answer. Chet sat up slowly, looking dazed. He could hardly hear himself over the ringing in his ears, but he asked the question anyway.
"Is he all right, Roy?" He yelled, as the paramedic
examined his partner for new injuries. Looking back at the exit,
he made the same discovery that everyone else had made. "Um…
how are we going to get outta here?"
"Keep calm Chet, They know we're in here!" Roy didn't
look up from his work, but when he did, the expression on his
face scared Chet more than words ever could. Before the paramedic
could speak, Dwyer spoke up.
"It's totally blocked!" The frustration of the
situation evident on his face, "We can't possibly get out
this way."
"Well, can we get out that way?" He asked, gesturing in
the opposite direction. "We’ve got to get Johnny out of
here."
"Roy? What happened?" John asked, weakly. He struggled
to sit up, moaned, and passed out.
"We’ll go check it out. You two stay here with him,"
Dwyer told Roy, glancing worriedly down at Gage. "I don't
have much air left." Roy glanced up at the crumbling ceiling.
Roy stood, lifting Johnny off of the ground, draping his partner
over his shoulder.
Looking through the smoke, he moved slowly toward the back
section of the building.
"Hey Roy!" Chet shouted, from down the hallway.
"Yeah," he yelled back.
"I’m down the right hallway. There’s a window down here. Follow my voice." Chet stated. Johnny was starting to get heavy. Roy stumbled and slowed as he followed the Irishman’s voice to the room with the window. Chet reached through the door, pulled Roy and his cargo into the room, closing the door behind them. Roy carried Johnny over to the window and leaned him against the wall. He turned as Dwyers’ alarm began to sound. Dwyer looked down at his gage, knowing he only had five minutes of air left. Roy watched as Henry picked up a metal chair, swung it with all his might and shattered the window. Frank frantically cleared shards of broken glass away from the frame, slipped his face mask off, leaned out the window, and yelled.
"Over here!" Frank yelled into the street. "We need a stokes!" He looked at the distance between the window and the pavement; "It’s not that far down, I think we can make it. Dwyer, you go first, then Chet, then Roy. Henry and I will pass Gage out to the three of you." The three men nodded and Dwyer climbed out the window. Roy stripped Johnny of his gear and then did the same to himself. Roy prepared to follow the others out of the window. He watched Chet climb out of the window, hop the short distance to the ground, and then he followed. When he felt his feet hit the pavement he turned back towards the window.
"Okay, we’re ready, send him out," Dwyer said.
Two firefighters from Station 16 trotted over with a stokes. Roy
watched as Johnny’s head appeared in the window, and he was
slowly lowered into their waiting arms. The five firefighters
lowered the injured paramedic into the stokes. Frank lowered
himself out of the window, and then turned to help his friend. As
Henry’s feet hit the ground, someone shouted,
"It's gonna go!" Everyone began running to get away
from the building. The explosion knocked everyone forward. Once
the dust cleared, Dwyer glanced at his disheveled colleagues.
"Everyone okay?"
"Yeah," they all chorused. Roy took off his turnout
coat and knelt by the stokes. He began taking Johnny’s
vitals while Dwyer and Smith came back with the biophone and drug
box. Chet stood by anxiously watching them work on John. He shook
his head.
"Rampart says give him 6 liters of oxygen, start an IV, D5W
TKO. Transport as soon as possible," reported Dwyer, manning
the biophone. Roy nodded and set about following the instructions.
"Come on, Johnny," he said, watching his unconscious
friend. As if on cue, John's eyelids began to flutter. "Johnny?"
Roy said. He tried to sit up, but Roy restrained him. "Take
it easy." Johnny was laboring to breathe. He began to cough
under the mask, and tried to remove it. Roy pulled his hand away.
Johnny became agitated, flailing his arms, trying to get away
from his partner. Chet felt a knot in his stomach as he watched
Roy struggle with Johnny. Suddenly, John's eyes rolled back and
he passed out. Chet's heart leaped into his throat. "Patient
is in Respiratory Arrest!" Roy quickly inserted an oral
airway, then grabbed the AMBU bag, and began to pump air onto
Johnny's oxygen deprived lungs. Dwyer bent to assess Gage's lung
sounds, while the third paramedic updated Rampart on the change
in their patient's condition. Dwyer looked up, calling over to
Smith,
"Left lung sounds absent," glancing up at Roy, he added, "his lung has collapsed."
"Chet, take over," Roy instructed. Chet dropped to
his knees next to Roy and began squeezing the AMBU bag, forcing
air into Johnny's chest. Roy began getting things out of the
trauma box while Smith relayed the information to Rampart.
"Rampart, patient became combative before passing out and
going into respiratory arrest. He is cyanotic, breath sounds are
absent on the left and his trachea is deviated," Smith
listed Johnny's injuries, "request permission to perform
decompression," he continued.
"Do what needs to be done, 51. Transport when the patient is
stable."
"10-4, Rampart," Smith replied, placing the handset back into it's cradle. Roy quickly maneuvered to Johnny's left side as Smith cut away his shirt and undershirt. Roy deftly inserted the needle, relieved to hear the hissing release of air from Johnny's damaged lung. He removed the needle, carefully securing the catheter with dressing and tape. Sitting back on his heels, he allowed Dwyer to start the IV D5W TKO. He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. He felt something wet on his hand. Looking at his hand, he saw blood. Must be Johnny's. He felt lightheaded, and dizzy. His eyesight was going fuzzy, and his heart raced beneath his ribcage. Placing his hand on his chest, he tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt. He looked at Chet before everything went black. Chet looked up into Roy’s face and saw his eyes roll into the back of his head.
"Roy!" Chet said, he caught the paramedics’ sleeve, as he pitched backwards. The paramedics looked up, only to see Roy collapse. Dwyer ran over to Roy's side, and saw the blood in Roy’s hair.
"He must have been hit by debris. Let's get him in the
rig, and get him to Rampart. We can contact them, and start
treatment on the way." He glanced up at Malcolm, the
ambulance attendant. "Since Gage is still on the stokes, put
him on the bench. We'll put Roy on the stretcher." Malcolm
nodded. He, Smith, Dwyer, and Chet picked up the stokes and
loaded it into the ambulance. Roy started to moan slightly and
shake his head.
"Easy, Roy," said Dwyer as he put a restraining hand on
Roy's shoulder. "You need to relax, you've probably got a
concussion. Open your eyes for me." Roy opened his eyes, and
squinted in the penlight. "Who’s the president, Roy?"
"Ford," sighed Roy. "It's 1976, and I'm Roy DeSoto.
I'll be fine."
"Well," said Dwyer as he removed Roy’s turnout
coat. Malcolm and Chet returned with the stretcher, "you're
going for a little ride anyway, just to be sure." They
lifted Roy onto the stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance.
Smith and Dwyer hopped inside behind their patients. Chet closed
the door and gave it a quick thump. He shook his head as the
ambulance drove away. He jumped as he felt a hand tap his
shoulder.
"Why don't you take the Squad in, Kelly," said Chief
McConnike. "Then you can update us on both their conditions."
"Thanks, Chief," replied Chet. He trotted to the Squad
and drove to Rampart.
~*~
Smith grabbed onto the stokes to keep from hitting the ambulance wall as it careened around a corner. A soft moan escaped Johnny at the sudden movement.
"Hey buddy, how are you doing?" Smith inquired,
leaning close to Johnny to hear his response.
"Girl?" Johnny groaned at the effort that it took to
ask the question.
"No girls here," Dwyer smiled. "Just us handsome
paramedics."
"No, the little girl."
"She’s fine. Brice and Bellingham have already sent
her to Rampart." Dwyer picked up the bio-phone to contact
the hospital about Roy's vital signs. "Patient lost
consciousness for a few minutes from apparent head trauma. He has
a scalp laceration on the back of his head."
"Squad 51, start patient on two liters O2, commence IV D5W
and continue monitoring vital signs." Br. Brackett advised.
"10-4, Rampart. Two liters O2, IV D5W and monitor." He
placed the bio-phone back in the box and did what was ordered.
Within moments they arrived at Rampart and were met by Dr.
Brackett, Dr. Early, and Dixie.
~*~
Hank Stanley stretched out on the bed, trying to relieve the
kinks in his back. He hated shifts like the last one. If that
arcade fire had happened during the day instead of the middle of
the night...he shuddered envisioning the dire consequences. He
rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the haunting images.
Instead, he directed his thoughts to the surprise party being
held Roy DeSoto's house that evening for Roy's son Chris. A party
is just what his men needed...even if it is only a child's
birthday party. The shrill ringing of the telephone suddenly
interrupted his thoughts. He rolled to the edge of the bed,
swinging his legs over the side and sitting up as he reached for
the phone.
"Hello, Hank Stanley here," he answered.
"Hank, sorry to bother you...I know you and your boys had a
hard night last night, but I need you back in. We've got another
bad one and I'm short on men," Chief McConnike said into the
phone. He was trying to be heard over the sirens and controlled
chaos behind him.
"Sure Chief," Hank replied, "I'll be right there,"
he said, rising from the bed.
"Hank," the Chief continued, "Gage never went home,
he stayed on after his shift. DeSoto and Kelly were already
called back. Gage and DeSoto are on their way to Rampart."
"What happened," Hank asked.
"Hank, we can discuss that when you get here. Get Stoker and
Lopez back out here too...we need all the help we can get."
"Right away Chief," Hank said, hanging up the phone,
then picking it back up again to call in the rest of his crew.
~*~
A large crowd stood watching the fire department battle the raging blaze. One man paid close attention to the scene at hand. He watched the orange flames shoot into the sky. He stared, as the two firemen were loaded into an ambulance that sped away. He drank in the frenzied activity of the men manning the hoses. The flames were beautiful. He felt a stirring in his soul, a sense of pride. This was his best work yet! This would show them, all those names they called him, the things they did to him. He remembered Sister Margaret catching him playing with matches. How his hands hurt when she took that ruler to them and the other boys at the orphanage had laughed and laughed. Well, they weren't laughing now, were they? No one was laughing at him now. Now he was the one laughing. Look at those fools, racing around because of him, and he wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. He smiled as he thought of his planned masterpiece. The fire he always wanted to start. Time to get ready, today a children's shelter, tomorrow, a hospital! No one would ever laugh at him again.
~*~
Hank hurriedly picked up the phone again and dialed Marco
Lopez. Stanley listened to the phone ring and then to Marco's
tired voice answer, "Hola...I mean hello."
"Lopez, this is Hank. McConnikee is calling everyone back in.
They have a huge fire working and several men have been injured."
Marco's voice came alive on the other end of the phone,
"Oh no, anyone we know, Cap?"
"Gage and DeSoto," Hank answered quietly.
"Where at?"
"McClaren Hall."
"Oh, the children’s shelter."
"Yes."
"You can count on me Cap, I'm on my way!" Hank hung
up the phone and dialed Stoker's number, briefing him on the
situation as well. As he hung up the phone, he felt a reassuring
hand on his shoulder and turned to face his wife.
"What's wrong, Honey?" she asked with concern. He took
a deep breath to regain his composure and spoke;
"I've been called in to work a fire." He took
another deep breath and added, "Gage and DeSoto are hurt."
"Oh no," Kathryn whispered, "Is it bad?"
"I don’t know, the Chief will inform me when I get there."
"Poor Joanne." Hank reached up, took his wife’s hand, and looked into her eyes.
"I need you and Susan to go over and help Joanne. Today
is Chris's birthday party, and she is probably going to need all
the help she can get."
"Sure, honey," Kathryn kissed her husband, and
whispered in his ear. "I love you. Please be careful."
As Hank watched his wife leave, he took a deep breath and got
dressed.
~*~
"Okay, guys," directed Dixie as the stretchers were off loaded from the ambulance. "Put Roy in room two, and Johnny in three." She followed the stretcher carrying Roy into room two. She smiled at the paramedic as she started to take his vitals. "How do you feel, Roy?" Roy smiled at Dixie.
"Not bad, I guess. I just have a little headache. I'm pretty hard-headed." Dr. Early stepped into the treatment room and chuckled. He started to examine Roy. He ordered a series of lab tests and skull films then concluded his exam.
"Looks good, Roy. You probably have a minor concussion.
We're going to keep you overnight for observation, since you were
unconscious for a short time."
"Oh, no," moaned Roy. "Today is Chris' birthday,"
he sighed. "We were going to have a party for him. All the
guys were coming over," he sighed. "Joanne's gonna kill
me."
"Well," said Dix, "you can always celebrate
tomorrow," she smiled. "I'm sure Chris would understand.
Besides, your coming home would be extra special reason to
celebrate. I don't think Joanne will be that upset. I called them
when they said you were coming in. They’re on their way."
She patted Roy on the arm. "I'll send them in as soon as
they get here."
"Thanks, Dix," replied Roy gratefully. "Any news
about Johnny?" She shrugged.
"I haven't heard anything. I'll see what I can find out
for you."
"Thanks, Dix," Roy hesitated. "If you see him,
tell him that I'm doing okay."
"I will, Roy." Dixie left the treatment room and ran
into Kel Brackett in the hallway. "Kel, how's Johnny? Roy's
pretty worried." Brackett twitched his mouth.
"Well, he seems to be more stable after we inserted the chest tube. He's got several rib fractures, and I think his left ankle is broken. Depending on the x-rays, he may need surgery to repair it." He twitched his mouth again. "Those beams fell on him pretty hard, and he's putting out a little more blood than I'd like from that chest tube. Frankly, Dix, I'm worried about internal bleeding. We may have to go in and do an exploratory thoracotomy. We'll know more when his lab work comes back." Dixie nodded solemnly.
"Is he awake?"
"In and out," replied Brackett. "I've given him
something for the pain."
"I'll update Roy."
~*~
Time had stopped. Joanne felt like she was standing in mud up
to her hips. She had received this type of call before, but today
was not a good day to get one. After all, it was Chris' birthday.
Why did Roy have to go and get himself hurt? She looked at Jen
and Chris as they played on the swing set in the back yard. They
were all that she had left if Roy...She shook her head, she spoke
to no one, "I can't think like that!" she told herself.
"Bad omen." She turned, hugging her arms close to her
body. The tears sprung to her eyes. "What am I gonna do?"
She asked the quiet kitchen. The sliding glass door opened and a
cacophony of noise assailed her hearing. She turned to see both
children pushing each other and arguing.
"Mom, Chris is cheating!"
"I am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!" Chris looked up into his mom's eyes and saw
the tears. "Mom, are you okay?" Joanne reached up and
wiped her eyes.
"Yeah, daddy got hurt at the fire this morning." Chris
and Jen wrapped their arms around their mothers’ legs and
began to cry. "He'll be okay. Dr. Brackett and Miss Dixie
will make him all better." She ran her hand through her
children's hair. "Let's go over to Rampart and see how he's
doing?"
"Okay mom." The children said in unison. They ran out
the front door to the car, all the animosity and anger forgotten.
Joanne wiped her eyes with a tissue, grabbed her purse, and
locked the front door behind her.
THE END