by C.D.
"I’m telling you Roy, it was really pretty incredible!" Johnny enthused in his inimitable way. "It was an oven, but it was only about the size of a portable TV" Johnny used his hands to demonstrate "….and it sits on the counter. You put your food in, set it for 1 minute or so, and poof!"
"Poof?" Roy asked dubiously.
"It’s done!"
Roy smiled and continued backing the squad into the bay "Wow" he said, trying to sound interested.
"But the most AMAZING part, Roy, listen to this" Johnny continued. "You just open the door, reach in, and grab the plate! It’s not even hot! The oven’s not hot either! Just the food!"
"I’ll bet Joanne would’ve loved to have seen that!" Roy said sincerely.
"You two should have gone!" Johnny cried, coming around the back of the squad to meet up with Roy.
Roy regarded Johnny blandly. "You didn’t invite us."
"Oh…" Johnny frowned, "well, it was sort of spur-of-the-moment for me too," he said by way of explanation. His face brightened again.
"Anyway, if that ain’t God’s gift to the single guy, I don’t know what IS" he remarked with a chuckle as he followed Roy into the kitchen.
"What’s that, Gage?" Chet asked drolly. "New nurse at Rampart?"
"No, Chet! -" Johnny started.
"It’s this newfangled oven Johnny saw at the Electronics Expo," Roy explained.
"An OVEN?" Chet asked, incredulous. "Gage is interested in OVENS?" Chet’s eyes twinkled. "So tell us, John….what’s the REAL reason you’re single? Come on, we’re an open-minded bunch of guys." Marco smiled and shook his head.
Roy turned toward the sink as he tried to stifle his laughter. Johnny, his mouth open, looked back and forth, the last one to discern Chet’s meaning.
"That settles it!" Chet snapped his fingers. "For his birthday, we’ll get Gage a new apron." He looked back down at the magazine he was reading as if to convey the matter was closed.
"Hey, if that helps his cooking, I’m all for it" Cap interjected as he strolled into the kitchen. Noticing the wounded look on Johnny’s face, he added "Sorry, pal."
"Chet--!" Johnny started, but was interrupted by the klaxons.
"Station 51….man trapped….416 Elaine Ct., 416 Elaine Ct., cross street 2nd Ave. Time out, 16:45"
"Station 51, KMG 365"
The "rescue" had gone uneventfully. The trapped man was actually stuck in the rafters of his attic after he had crawled into a tight spot and hadn’t been able to back out. His wife had been unable to pull him out by his ankles and the man had panicked, so she called the fire department. After the crew got him out, he was found to be uninjured.
The call had been near Rampart, so they made a quick detour to pick up some supplies.
The drive back to the station afforded Johnny another opportunity to expound on the discoveries he’d made at the Electronics Expo over the weekend.
"You know, Roy, what’s really exciting about what’s happening with technology?" Johnny questioned.
Roy, not sure if he was going to be given an opportunity to answer, merely glanced sideways at his partner.
"I’ll TELL you what," Johnny said. "Miniaturization." He stopped to let that sink in.
"Min…miniaturization?" Roy silently chastised himself for encouraging his partner.
"Roy! I mean, think about it! In terms of OUR jobs, even!" Johnny put his hand to his chest earnestly. "For example, the biophone."
"The bio--?"
"It’s clunky and heavy; by the time we retire we’re gonna be CRIPPLED from carrying that thing around!"
"Yeah, but-"
"But nothing! Mark my words….one day, it’ll be no bigger than a handie-talkie!."
"But it’s-"
"And the handie-talkies! I mean, they’re great! They’re indispensable! But let’s face it. They’re not exactly HANDY, are they? They’re pretty darn cumbersome!"
"So what would you-"
"I’m glad you asked me that! Okay, this is what I’m thinking…..
Roy rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. This was turning out to be a long shift.
"Instead of another item of equipment that we have to LUG around in a fire, what if there was a small communicating device that connects to our turnout gear, or maybe…..or maybe!… to our wrists, like a watch!"
Roy was certain that if he could open Johnny’s skull, he’d see actual gears turning.
"…and you could just push this button to, you know, talk to Cap-"
Roy tried to suppress a smile. "Oh! You mean like, Enterprise, Kirk here, beam me up"???
"Oh ha ha, Roy!" Johnny gave his partner a withering glare. He then turned his gaze out his side window and watched the landscape stream by.
At least he was quiet now, Roy thought a bit guiltily.
"Hey, I’m sorry!" Roy chuckled, unable to hold it in any longer.
"Huh! Yeah, well, ….obviously it’s just a big joke to you" Johnny attempted an air of nonchalance.
"Johnny, you’re right…those improvements would be wonderful," Roy said in an attempt to appease the sulking paramedic. "It’s just that, stuff like that is probably YEARS away …if it’s even in development at all! I’d rather just concentrate on doing the job at hand, instead of…of…worrying about some hypothetical new gadget." Roy didn’t know which was worse, having Johnny talk his ear off or getting the silent treatment.
A few awkward minutes of quiet passed between them.
Johnny sighed, defeated. "Man, I’m starving. Wonder what’s for lunch" he muttered.
The paramedics shuffled into the kitchen where the rest of the crew were already seated, dining on sub sandwiches.
"Hey guys, help yourselves," Cap greeted them cheerily.
Marco was finishing a story in progress. "So then Barney walks into the station and Wojo goes ‘don’t look at me!’" Everyone at the table laughed appreciatively.
"Oh, I saw that," Roy smiled as he joined the men. "Joanne just loves Hal Linden."
As Johnny approached the table with his plate, the klaxons sounded. He slumped, dejectedly.
"Station 51, Station 16, Station 110, Battalion 6….structure fire….5608 Commerce…5608 Commerce…cross street, 2nd….time out, 16:45"
"Station 51, KMG 365"
"You know, Roy, I don’t think the danger in firefighting is the FIRES" Johnny said as the squad raced towards its destination. "It’s the malnutrition!"
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Roy was sympathetic; his own stomach was gnawing with hunger. At least he’d gotten a couple of bites in before the call.
The squad careened to a stop in front of a manufacturing complex. Thick black smoke bellowed from a large nondescript warehouse-looking type structure with an office portion affixed to the front.
The battalion chief had approached Capt. Stanley and was briefing him on the situation.
"This area here in the front is all offices. Back behind is the warehouse. Down below the warehouse is a partial basement area, with some mechanical type rooms and mainframe computers and such."
"What’s in the warehouse, Chief?" Stanley asked.
"Plastics. They’re a distributor of plastics….rolled products, styrofoam, utensils, you name it."
"Anyone inside?"
"The manager doesn’t think so. It’s Saturday, so only a skeleton crew in the warehouse. No one in the offices. The story he got from one of the workers is that there was an explosion somewhere. They all ran out and saw the smoke and called the fire department. It’s hard to say where it might have originated."
By this time, the rest of the responding units had arrived and were setting up.
Capt. Stanley began shouting orders.
"Kelly, Lopez, hit the warehouse with a 2-1/2…..DeSoto, you and Gage take a reel line into the front office area over here. Make sure no one’s inside."
The firefighters quickly donned their turnout gear and air tanks and ran to their assigned locations. Roy and Johnny found the office entrance locked. It was a wire-reinforced glass door. Johnny gestured to the window of the nearest office. They broke the pane and climbed inside.
There was no fire in this part of the business, but the smoke was thick and visibility was low. They made their way through the maze of cubicles, marking off areas they had checked and soaking everything.
They eventually made their way to the back of the offices where a door led into the warehouse.
Johnny picked up the HT. Roy waited for orders.
"HT 51 to Engine 51."
"Engine 51 here. Go ahead." Capt. Stanley’s voice came over the HT.
"Cap, this is John. We’re back here at the entrance to the warehouse. We didn’t find anything in the office. Should we proceed from here?"
"Negative. Return to the engine and I’ll re-assign."
"HT 51, 10-4"
Johnny put the HT back in his turnout pocket and they painstakingly made their way back to the front of the building, finally emerging into the late-afternoon sun.
The scene was one of controlled chaos that was familiar to the firefighters, yet would have appeared nonsensical to a layperson. Hoses of various diameters snaked around on the pavement. Firefighters in turnout coats ran this way and that. Bystanders milled about at a safe distance, kept there by the police officers who were in charge of crowd control.
Roy and Johnny approached Captain Stanley for orders.
"You guys take 5, then go in and relieve Chet and Marco."
The two paramedics quickly gulped some water, swiped at their soot-streaked faces, and checked their air supplies. With no injuries to treat, this was going to be a routine fire run for them.
"Okay, let’s go," Roy said somewhat solemnly.
They found their co-workers in the broiling hot, blazing inferno and quickly took their place on the hose. Chet and Marco gratefully retreated. Roy took the nozzle while Johnny supported him from behind. Even with their air masks, the plastic fumes were almost overwhelming. They quickly settled into a pattern of soaking and spraying, making slow but steady progress against the blaze.
A good thirty minutes passed. The work was tedious and strenuous. Both Roy and Johnny were beginning to feel the strain. Sweat poured from their brows, stinging their eyes…their muscles protested…their throats burned from the fumes of the melting plastic. Roy looked back at his partner.
"Get Cap on the HT and see if we can get some relief!" he yelled in a muffled voice.
Johnny nodded and plucked the HT from his pocket.
"Engine 51 this is HT 51" he shouted through his air mask.
"HT 51, go ahead."
"Cap, we need a-"
Without warning, the sky fell and the earth opened up…..
Capt. Stanley was listening to John’s transmission when a loud "boom" reverberated through the site. His head jerked up to see a plume of acrid smoke obliterate any view of the warehouse. The shock wave pushed him back a step. He was vaguely aware of a sudden increase in activity and shouting as the gravity of the situation quickly took hold around him. Chet and Marco ran forward from their perches on the curb.
"Cap, what happened?" Chet shouted.
Cap was already shaking his head in dismay. "I don’t know. Something blew," he related, trying to comprehend the sight before him. Suddenly, he snapped back to attention, looking at the HT in his hand.
"HT 51, do you read?" he intoned urgently. There was no response.
"HT 51, THIS IS ENGINE 51, DO YOU READ?" he demanded more urgently.
Chet and Marco stood in shock, the fear rising in their throats. Marco spoke first.
"Cap, maybe they just lost their HT in the explosion" he suggested somewhat wishfully.
"Yeah Cap" Chet added lamely.
The smoke was settling, revealing an even more frightening sight. Where the warehouse once stood, there was now a pile of twisted rubble.
"Holy mother of…." Cap muttered.
Chief McConickee and Capt. Harrison of Station 16 jogged toward Stanley.
"Hank, how many men do you have still in there?" McConickee asked breathlessly.
"Uh, two, Chief. My two paramedics."
"16’s has two in there too…we haven’t made radio contact."
"Neither have I," Stanley stated, then slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.
Johnny was only too happy to comply with Roy’s suggestion. The heat, the fumes, the HUNGER! He didn’t know how he was going to last through this one. But he knew he would; he always did.
He fished the HT out of his pocket and depressed "send."
"Engine 51, this is HT 51" he rasped as loudly as he could. Man, his throat burned.
"HT 51, go ahead."
"Cap, we need a-"
Johnny didn’t feel the heavy object that struck his helmet and sent the HT flying. Nor was he conscious for the ride down into the abyss.
Roy heard and felt the explosion, but it didn’t register as such. All he knew was the hose was yanked from his hands at the same time his body became weightless. Then the deafening roar. He was powerless as he was released, left to drop, falling, banging, twisting. Roy felt he was being sucked into hell. How far could he fall? He was tensed for the impact, but it seemed to take forever…
Roy lay with his eyes closed, listening. It was suddenly quiet. Or had it been quiet for a while? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d been unconscious. He didn’t know.
What he DID know was that something hurt like hell. His eyes flew open as his awareness increased. There wasn’t much to see. This place was almost dark and filled with odd shapes of rubble and barely-recognizable office furnishings. Heavy dust drifted through the air.
Roy tried to sit up, but some part of his body was immobile, making it difficult. He struggled to his elbows and realized his legs were pinned. He pulled off his glove and ran his hand down his thigh to try to gauge how badly crushed he might be. The left leg wasn’t too bad; stuck, but not hurting too much. The right leg, though, was agonizing. He felt an adrenaline rush of fear as the realization of his possibly very severe injury dawned on him.
Stay calm…you don’t know…it may not be that bad. He concentrated on slowing his breathing. Hyperventilating and increasing his heart rate were not going to help.
He studied his surroundings more intently. Where was Johnny?
Roy yanked off his helmet and air mask.
"Johnny!" he called and waited. "JOHNNY!" he yelled as loudly as his scorched throat would allow.
Johnny had had the HT. Now both were missing, seemingly.
As if on cue, the HT crackled to life, somewhere. "HT 51, do you read?" Roy’s head snapped in the direction of the sound of Capt. Stanley’s voice. He rubbed his eyes with his ungloved hand, trying to clear his vision. Maybe without the face mask, he would be able to search better.
"HT 51, THIS IS ENGINE 51, DO YOU READ?"
Up top, Hank Stanley was busily trying to regroup. Four men missing, two of them his, with no contact made.
"Chet, Marco, do you guys have ANY idea where in that building they may have been?" Cap grilled the two men.
"Cap, when they took over from us, we had been making our way back to that back left corner," Chet gestured. "But there were tons of zigs and zags in that place. They could have changed their direction in the few minutes before the explosion."
"Yeah, it was like a maze in there," Marco concurred.
"All right. Just start concentrating in that area, and we’ll fan out from there if we have to." Chet and Marco ran towards the rescue effort already underway, axes and pry bars in hand.
Capt. Harrison, who had been inside the structure heading up the initial rescue, returned to Stanley’s side.
"Hank, we’ve found our two. One is uninjured and the other has a mild concussion. Have you figured out where we need to concentrate the search?"
"Chet and Marco seem to think the back left corner is our best bet," Capt. Stanley answered. Although relieved that two of the men had been recovered, he felt a twinge of guilt for wishing it had been HIS two.
As if reading his mind, Harrison patted Stanley on the back. "Those are some good men in there, and they’re working their butts off. I’m sure DeSoto and Gage will be found soon."
Hank nodded numbly. Yeah…but will it be THEM, or their bodies?
Roy felt helpless not being able to answer the squawking HT. Damn the luck! As his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, he saw a shape that resembled the HT lying on the floor about 7 feet away. Johnny must be around here somewhere, he thought. But where? And in what condition?
The blond paramedic began sorting through his muddled thoughts. The only way we’re getting out of here alive is if they find us….I’ve got to get that HT so I can lead them here…but where is "here"?
Roy coughed, the fumes building to an uncomfortable level. He placed the air mask back on his face just until the cough subsided. It would be prudent to try to ration his fresh air, he decided. No telling how long it would take to be rescued. Maybe if the fire were knocked down, it would be one less problem to deal with.
He decided he needed to try to snag the HT with something and drag it towards him. He unfastened the straps to his air tank and shrugged out of his turnout coat, experiencing a little difficulty sliding it out from under him. The effort left him breathless and in pain, and he was forced to lie still and catch his breath. He breathed slow deep breaths, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Taking one wrist of his coat, Roy flung it in the direction of the HT to see how close he could get. It came up a couple of feet short. And he was becoming less confident he could even drag the HT over the rough terrain of the fallen debris. He’d need to snare it with something rigid….maybe his helmet. He looked and felt around him for anything suitable to aid in his attempt. He was startled by the sudden noise emitted from the very item he was trying to retrieve.
"HT 51, this is Engine 51…..Roy! Johnny! Do you read me?"
"Yeah, Cap, I read ya" Roy whispered.
"HT 51, DO YOU READ?" Cap repeated. Roy heard the desperation underlying Cap’s measured tones.
Roy sighed and "fished" around some more. His belt! With shaking hands, he unfastened the belt buckle and slid it off. He fastened the chin strap of his helmet and fed the belt through it, passing it through the buckle and pulling it tight. Panting with the increased activity and excitement, he studied the turnout coat. It was too awkward to use as is….he’d cut it. Roy got the scissors out of his scissors pack and began cutting the sleeve of the coat at the shoulder. The material was so thick, he wasn’t making much headway, but he determinedly kept on until blisters threatened to erupt. After a few minutes, he had removed one sleeve and cut it into four strips.
He sank back and rested for a moment, placing the air mask over his face and breathing judiciously.
Johnny….where ARE you?
Roy tied the strips of cloth together and fastened the belt to the end.
Okay, here goes nothing.
He flung the contraption towards the HT and the helmet clattered noisily as it hit the ground next to the target. Roy reeled it all back in for another attempt. He threw it out again, and the helmet landed just behind the HT. But when Roy tugged it towards him, the helmet simply slipped over the top of the HT.
Damn, this isn’t going to work!
Over the next thirty minutes, he made several more attempts, in vain. Tears stung his eyes in frustration, exhaustion and pain. And futility.
"GOD DAMMIT!" he bellowed.
He tried again. This time, the helmet landed just right, and as he pulled the line, the HT began to tip slowly, tenuously….then settled into the helmet.
Roy released the breath he’d been holding and stopped, afraid of losing it again. He tugged very gently on the line, letting the precious cargo inch towards him. He knew he had to be patient. If the helmet caught on something and tipped, the HT could tumble out and he’d have to start over. Maybe he wouldn’t be so lucky the second time.
It almost happened, but Roy recovered and continued. His eyes never left the HT and his breaths were measured and deep. Finally! He jerked the end of the line towards him and scooped the HT out of its makeshift harness.
"Engine 51, do you read!?" he cried hoarsely into the mic.
Capt. Stanley stood topside, surveying the progress his and the other crews were making. It was slow going. The rubble was dense and awkward, comprised mostly of steel beams and large sheets of metal. He jumped visibly at the sound of Roy’s transmission.
"This is Engine 51! Roy! Where are you? Are you all right?" Cap’s normal composure left him in his elation at hearing Roy’s voice. It had been over 45 minutes since the collapse.
Roy closed his eyes as both relief and dizziness washed over him. The adrenaline rush of the past few minutes subsided and he suddenly felt weak and shaky.
"HT 51, do you read?"
"Uh, yeah Cap…I’m here" Roy croaked.
Capt. Stanley frowned. His initial relief was turning to concern. Roy was slow to respond and he sounded strange. Not only that, but he’d said "I’m here" which clearly meant he wasn’t going to know about Gage.
"Roy, are you injured? Where’s Johnny?" Cap queried.
"Cap, I’m pinned…my leg is crushed, I think. I can’t move too much." Roy breathed deeply. "I don’t know about Johnny….I haven’t seen him or heard him…at all…." His voice trembled slightly.
The unspoken was understood between the two men: Gage could be gravely injured or even dead.
"Roy, can you tell me your location?"
"Cap, we’re - uh, I’m in the basement. The floor opened up and we went down….at least I did…Johnny must be around here too…" he trailed off.
"Okay, just hang on, pal. We’ve got the fire out and every available man is digging towards you."
"10-4" Roy said wearily. He idly wondered if he would lose his leg. Right now, he’d almost GIVE his leg to be out of here. He rolled up his turnout coat and used it as a pillow as he sank back, grimacing from the pain of injury and constricted muscles. He drifted into a fitful slumber.
Capt. Stanley ran towards the working crews. "I just heard from Roy! He’s alive, in the basement! Let’s move it!" The men readjusted their sights and their pace quickened as they
worked with renewed vigor.
It was like a nightmare from which he couldn’t awaken. He was being stabbed over and over, and, typical of dreams, couldn’t defend himself. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Okay, I’m dead already! Just stop it! Please!
His eyes fluttered open and he realized he wasn’t dreaming, nor was he being stabbed…he was coughing. It hurt like hell, searing knifelike pains emanating through his whole torso. No wonder he thought someone was stabbing him. He lay there, face down on the concrete, helpless to stop the unrelenting assault.
Roy stirred at the repetitive sound. He was groggy and it seemed his senses were capable of returning only one at a time. First, his hearing, obviously. What was that sound? Was it the rescue team? He struggled towards lucidity. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he jolted awake.
Johnny!
Roy was fully alert now, raising himself on his elbows. He heard the familiar coughing; he’d partnered with Johnny through various bouts with colds and bronchitis…then there was the time Johnny had pneumonia.
"Johnny!" he called. The coughing sounded close. "Johnny, where are you? It’s me, Roy…can you hear me??"
The coughing continued, a wheezing, rattling cough that made Roy wince. He localized the sound to be coming from just beyond an office partition that lay at an angle about 8 feet from Roy. All this time, Johnny had been only 8 feet away!
Johnny could hear Roy’s voice, but he couldn’t stop the cough long enough to try to respond. He tried to assess his situation. He was on the floor, face down, and something was on top of him but it wasn’t too heavy. His helmet was gone and his head was throbbing. The pains in his chest and gut were severe. After a few minutes, he was able to suppress the cough, although the urge remained.
Roy waited impatiently. "Johnny!"
"R-Roy" Johnny squeaked out. Roy could barely hear him.
"Johnny, are you trapped? I can’t get to you! I’m pinned." Roy’s frustration at being immobile was renewed with his concern for his partner.
Johnny rested his forehead on the floor and tried to gather his strength and resolve. He’d have to get out of here and get to Roy. It hurt so bad, just lying here….how was it going to feel to try to move? He’d soon find out. He jammed his elbows under his chest and raised his upper body, partially dislodging the debris on his back. An involuntary groan escaped his parched lips.
Roy saw the pile of debris shift and heard Johnny cry out.
"Johnny, don’t try to move!" he yelled. He picked up the HT. "Engine 51, HT 51. Do you read?"
"Engine 51 here, go ahead Roy" came Cap’s reassuring voice.
"Cap, Johnny’s here! He’s under some rubble just a few feet away from me. He just regained consciousness."
Capt. Stanley breathed a sigh of relief. "Roy, what’s his condition?"
"I don’t know for sure, Cap. He’s hurt. I can’t actually see him, but he’s been coughing."
"Roy, the rescue teams are making progress. We think we’re getting close to your position. Just sit tight and try to reassure Gage too."
"10-4, Cap. I’ll keep you posted."
Johnny was trying to scoot out from under the partition on his elbows and knees, but each small lurch forward forced him to stop and recuperate. Roy could hear his partner’s labored breathing and whimpers of pain as each movement agonized him.
"Johnny, you’d better keep still! Cap says they’re getting closer! Just LIE STILL!" In his own weakened state, he certainly didn’t need to be worrying about Johnny’s hard-headedness.
Johnny ignored him and continued to struggle. Something was hindering him, but what was it? His air tank! It was caught on something above him. He rested on his hip and unfastened the straps. Shrugging out of the apparatus was a whole new experience in torture. He couldn’t control the grunts of pain, but the coughing fit that followed was unfortunate as well.
"Aaaaarrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!" A mix of anger, frustration, pain and fear fueled his last-ditch bid to propel himself from the confines of his entrapment.
Roy looked over in alarm as Johnny emerged from the heap, spent and breathless, his head resting on his forearm. He panted from the physical effort, on his face an expression of anguish. Gradually his breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. He blinked a few moments, trying to focus in the semi-darkness, until he made out Roy’s face staring at him.
Johnny managed a weak half grin. "Hey…pally."
Roy’s expression softened. "Junior."
Johnny grimaced as he rose to all fours and laboriously crawled over to Roy. He settled slowly into an inclined position perpendicular to his trapped friend.
"I should….check that leg out," he finally remarked. He regarded Roy’s face in the dim light, noting the paleness of his complexion and the dazed look to his eyes. Johnny made no move to aid his injured partner, however. He remained sitting, panting shallowly.
"Uh…yeah, I think it’s broken" Roy answered. Talk about the understatement of the year, he thought. "What about you?"
"Uh…I dunno…I think, maybe..." Johnny closed his eyes for a minute. Roy watched him expectantly, wondering if he’d passed out. But Johnny opened his eyes again.
"Remember….Sister Barbara?" he asked haltingly.
Roy smiled at the memory of the beatific nun they had rescued from a bus crash. "Yeah."
"I’ll never forget. She said she felt like….a bag of broken eggs. Well, add some broken glass to the mix…….and I’m there," he finished with considerable effort.
Roy frowned. "Look…you shouldn’t be moving around. You probably have internal injuries."
"Don’t worry," the younger paramedic whispered. "I’m not going anywhere."
Gage then launched into a stubborn coughing jag. He turned his head to try and minimize the severity of it, especially for Roy’s benefit, but the senior paramedic was alarmed. Johnny stomped one of his booted feet against the unyielding floor, but it didn’t stop the cough, of course. Several minutes passed before he was able to bring it under control. He breathed raggedly, swallowing repeatedly to staunch the uprising in his stomach.
"Johnny….you all right?"
"I don’t…think…so……..oh god" With a single violent retch, Johnny emptied his stomach of the bright red blood that had pooled there. He groaned deeply. The metallic taste in his mouth was the last sensation he knew before he lapsed into a stupor.
"Johnny! Johnny!"
Roy felt his head swimming. This wasn’t happening…this couldn’t be happening. What was TAKING so long? They’d both be dead before anyone found them! Roy felt on the verge of panic, his emotions spiraling out of control.
"Engine 51, HT 51!" he cried, his voice breaking.
"Engine 51 here. Roy, how’s it going down there?" Cap sounded unreasonably calm.
God damn it! How the hell does he THINK it’s going down here?
"Cap…how much longer?" He fought to keep his voice normal.
Capt. Stanley heard the panic just beneath the surface of Roy’s transmission.
"Roy, I think we’re getting very close. You’ve got to remain calm, for your own good. How are you? How’s Johnny?"
"I’m not good. Johnny’s worse. He’s throwing up blood."
Chet jogged towards the Captain. "Cap, we’re almost through!" Realizing Roy was on the HT, the firefighter added, "Ask him if he can hear us!"
"Roy, can you hear the K-12? They should be very close."
Roy closed his eyes and listened. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his head. No, wait! He COULD hear something….
"I think I hear it." His voice sounded a million miles away. He’s fading, Hank thought.
"All right Roy, hang in there. They’ll be to you in no time."
"Cap…..call Rampart."
"Will do, Roy. Stand by."
Hank Stanley pulled the biophone from the squad and set it up. Paramedics from Squad 16 and Squad 110 were in the building, ready to administer medical treatment as soon as Johnny and Roy were located.
"Rampart, this is Engine 51. How do you read?"
"Engine 51, go ahead," came Dr. Brackett’s reply.
"Rampart, we have two paramedics injured in a building collapse. They are not accessible at this time, but rescue is imminent. We do have voice contact with them."
"51, what are their injuries?"
"Rampart, victim #1 is Roy DeSoto. He has a crush injury to the leg and is still pinned. Victim #2 is Gage. He was unconscious for over an hour and is vomiting blood."
"51, is there any other information at this time?" Dr. Brackett made a mental note to order blood to have ready to transfuse. They were both certainly going to need it.
"Stand by, Rampart." Stanley retrieved his HT. "HT 51, do you read?"
After a few moments, Roy’s weak voice came through. "HT 51."
"Roy, I’ve contacted Rampart and told them about your leg and John’s vomiting. Is there any other information we can give them?"
"Cap…tell’em Johnny probably has internal injuries. He’s stuperous and having difficulty breathing. And…ah…." Roy felt the room suddenly whirl and he closed his eyes momentarily. "I’m having moderate dizziness, and….we’re both probably shocky."
Capt. Stanley relayed the information to Dr. Brackett.
"10-4, 51. Advise as soon as rescue is completed. We’ll stand by."
"10-4, Rampart."
Roy tried to see Johnny’s face, but it was too dark. He didn’t know if his partner was conscious or not. "We’re gonna get out of this," he whispered. Another wave of dizziness washed over him and he closed his eyes and floated away to the sound of his partner’s ragged breathing.
Roy awoke to the scurry of activity and brilliance of the floodlights the rescuers had set up to illuminate the cramped space. He began to stir.
"Hey, Roy, how’s it going….whoa, take it easy, don’t move." Charlie Dwyer commanded.
"Get Johnny….first," Roy rasped.
"He’s being taken care of Roy. You just relax and don’t worry."
Roy felt the b.p. cuff constricting his arm and another hand squeezing his wrist for a pulse. Non-paramedic firemen were assessing the heavy object on his leg and debating how to free him. After the hours of quiet, all the activity was somehow unsettling.
He was aware that Brice and Bellingham were nearby, working on Johnny.
"Let me see Johnny," Roy implored.
"Roy, just relax, okay?" Dwyer soothed.
Roy grabbed Dwyer’s wrist tightly. "Let me see him."
Dwyer stared at his colleague. A few seconds ticked by. "Okay." He moved aside and supported Roy into a sitting position.
"See? He’s all right."
Roy saw his partner in the light for the first time since the collapse. Johnny had been lain down and was deathly still. His complexion was ashen under the dried blood from a head laceration. His left eye was discolored, a real shiner. His mouth was open slightly and his teeth and lips were stained brick red.
"How is he? Really?" Roy whispered.
"He’s alive." Brice answered brusquely. But just barely, he didn’t say aloud.
Dwyer eased Roy back and picked up the biophone. Roy felt an oxygen mask being secured over his face and cool, fresh air began to replace the stale, smoky, dusty air of the structure.
"Rampart, this is Squads 16 and 110, do you read?"
"Go ahead." Brackett’s voice answered immediately. He had been hovering anxiously near the base station.
"Rampart, we have the two victims of the building collapse. Uh, victim #1 is…." Dwyer looked to Capt. Stanley who quickly pointed to Roy. "Roy DeSoto. His vitals are as follows. BP is 90 over 50, pulse 110, respirations 16. He has an injury to the right upper leg, just above the knee, but we haven’t extricated him so we don’t know the severity of it." He handed the phone to Brice.
"Rampart, this is Squad 110. Victim #2 is Gage. He is unconscious. Vitals are: BP, 80 over 40, pulse 130 and weak, respirations 10. He has a large laceration on his forehead and probable concussion. There is evidence he has vomited a large quantity of blood, estimate 500 cc’s. Breath sounds are diminished to almost non-existent on the left side. Stand by."
Capt. Stanley, Chet, Marco, and two guys from 16’s were preparing to jack up the beam on Roy’s leg.
"Don’t worry, Roy. We’re gonna get you out of here," Chet promised.
As Chet cranked the jack handle and the pressure was suddenly released, Roy experienced the most excruciating pain of his life. He screamed hoarsely, an alien sound that startled everyone. His b.p. plummeted and he lapsed, mercifully, into unconsciousness.
When Roy awoke, the first thing he noticed was fresh air. He was lying on a backboard on the ground outside. The sky was the color of taupe that occurs just before sunset. He lay quietly, taking in the sounds around him. He heard Dwyer’s voice.
"10-4 Rampart, ready to transport."
He felt himself lifted onto a stretcher and placed into the back of the brightly lit ambulance. He squinted in the light. He heard the doors slam shut and the siren’s wail begin. No one seemed to notice he was awake.
He felt Dwyer taking his pulse again.
"Roy, you’re awake. How you feeling?"
"Out of it." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"No wonder! Look, we’re almost to Rampart. Your ordeal’s over." Dwyer smiled warmly.
"Johnny?"
"Roy, Johnny rode in ahead of you. We didn’t have to dig HIM out, remember?"
Dwyer realized that Roy hadn’t asked about his leg one time. He was glad, in a way. It looked pretty messed up and he didn’t want to have to bluff through THAT exchange.
As he was wheeled into the E.R. Joanne ran up to the gurney.
"Roy!" she cried, shocked at the sight of her husband. His face was streaked with dirt and soot. His hair was matted from perspiration and dust. His eyes looked sunken and lacked their customary "sparkle." Her hands went instinctively to his forearm and she clung to him as he was wheeled down the corridor.
"Jo…hey." His voice was shaky.
"Dix, let Dr. Heckman know his orthopedic patient is here" Dr. Brackett directed.
"Right, Kel."
"Joanne, I’m sorry, but you’d better wait out here. You can sit in the doctor’s lounge if you like." Dixie said compassionately but firmly. Joanne reluctantly let herself be led to the lounge.
Joanne settled in for the long wait. She’d gotten only a glimpse of her husband, but it was better than nothing. It was better than imagining him in even worse shape. She’d seen Johnny too. He’d looked horrible. All bloody, and being manually ventilated. She cringed at the memory. How could this terrible accident have happened? How terrible had it been for them, both too injured to help the other? It must have been a nightmare. It was most certainly going to CAUSE nightmares, if….no, she couldn’t think about the possibility that life wasn’t going to go on as before.
The door opened slowly and Hank Stanley, Chet, Marco, and Mike entered cautiously. "Joanne." Hank intoned in his deep baritone.
"Oh, Hank." The sight of the captain unleashed the floodgates and Joanne covered her face and began to weep. He gently took a place next to her on the couch. The others hovered, their eyes downcast.
"Joanne, I’m sorry."
She cried another minute, then took a deep breath and raised her face. She’d already been briefed about the accident, so she had a vague idea of what had happened to Roy. Fishing a tissue from her purse, she dabbed her tears and attempted a smile.
"Just part of the job, right?" she said, her voice breaking.
Hank looked down.
"I’m sorry, I just….he looked so awful, Hank!" Tears threatened anew but she swallowed hard and kept them at bay.
"Joanne, these doctors are the best around," Hank spoke in soothing tones. "Roy is strong. He endured everything unbelievably well. I was in radio contact with him throughout the search and rescue. He really gave it his all, enabling us to find him and get him and Johnny out of there."
Joanne seemed to take comfort in Hank’s words. She looked up.
"How is Johnny? I saw him. He looked….bad."
Hank hesitated. "He’s not too good. I spoke with Craig Brice outside a bit ago. He lost a lot of blood and arrested right after they got him here. They’re trying to stabilize him for surgery."
Joanne closed her eyes against the stinging tears. "It’s too much, Hank. Why Roy? Why BOTH of them? I can’t deal with all this." Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Hank put his arm gently across her back as she wept. Chet looked on with tears in his eyes. Mike and Marco sat at the table. Marco stared into space. Mike rested his head in his hands.
Roy opened his eyes to see Dr. Brackett and that orthopedic guy - what’s his name? - Heckman, yeah, that’s it, looking at him.
Brackett smiled. "Hello Roy, you’re in recovery. You’ve just gotten out of surgery."
Roy tried to speak but couldn’t find his voice.
"Roy, you had a nasty fracture, but I think we got you fixed up pretty good," Dr. Heckman explained. "Lucky for you, the vessels and nerves weren’t damaged too badly. Dr. Sauerman is a good vascular surgeon. He got the important ends reattached. My team pieced the bone together with plates and screws. Now we just have to wait and see how well you heal up. I think it looks good, though." He smiled encouragingly.
Roy felt foggy from the anesthesia. He’d forgotten half of what they said already. They were smiling, so it must be all right. He smiled slightly.
"There’s someone who wants to see you. Hang on." Dr. Brackett strode away.
"Are you in pain?" Dr. Heckman asked.
"A….little." Roy lied. Actually, it hurt a LOT.
"I’ll get you something for that." He seemed relieved to have a reason to leave Roy’s side.
Joanne appeared, a mix of emotions on her tired face. "Morning, sleepyhead," she teased, smiling to keep from crying.
"Morning?" Roy whispered.
She nodded quickly. "You were in surgery all night."
No wonder she looks so weary, he thought.
"They said you’re going to be all right." Once again, tears threatened. God, not again! WHY can’t I stop crying? I don’t want Roy to see me cry, not now!
"Yeah," he smiled. "The bionic man."
Joanne snickered and shook her head. "You’re crazy."
Roy sobered. "Johnny?"
Joanne sighed. She knew he’d be asking. "He’s holding on. They’ve got him in ICU." And he’s in a coma, and they don’t know if his brain or organs were oxygen-deprived, and his prognosis is guarded.
Roy searched the face he knew so well. What wasn’t she telling him? He felt suddenly very tired. His eyes drifted shut against his will. He forced them open a time or two, but couldn’t stay awake.
Dr. Brackett exited the elevator on the ICU floor and strode purposefully to John’s room. It had been two days since the accident, and he had been checking in regularly on John’s condition, even though he was no longer the primary physician on the case.
He entered the room and stopped abruptly, surprised to see Dixie at Johnny’s bedside. She looked up, an expression of sadness etched into her pretty features. "Hi Kel." She resumed wiping the warm cloth gently across Johnny’s closed eyes and forehead, taking care to avoid the stitched laceration.
"Dix? This isn’t your turf," Brackett said gently and without reproach as he picked up the chart. His expression was one of understanding.
"I’m off duty," Dixie replied. After a couple of false starts, she continued. "He doesn’t have anybody, Kel. Sure, the nurses are monitoring his vitals and administering his medication, but….he needs someone nearby who cares," she finished, almost defensively.
Brackett held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I agree. It can only improve his chances…..but….."
Dixie waited solemnly.
"Just take care of yourself, too" he finished with a half-smile.
"I couldn’t NOT be here" Dixie replied. She rinsed the washcloth in the small basin on the bedside table and gently wiped Johnny’s neck. He lay completely immobile, a ventilator breathing for him. It was so unnatural to see this normally animated man in this state of deathly stillness.
Dr. Brackett reviewed the chart, frowning. He shook his head. "Nothing."
Dixie pressed her lips together in an attempt to control her emotions. "He’s in there. That’s why I’m here," she said, her voice breaking. "You hear that, Johnny? I’m not going to leave you alone with these poor, defenseless nurses in the ICU," she said with a forced smile.
Dr. Brackett performed a couple of routine checks on Johnny, then straightened to leave.
"Dix, go home and get some rest. Maybe go to a movie."
"I’m going to go check on Roy here in a minute. Then I’ll leave."
"Come on, Johnny" Brackett said in his most commanding tone, his face bent over the patient’s. "Time to start showing us what you’re made of."
He sighed and stood straight. He looked at Dixie, then down again. "Go home, Dix." He left the room.
Dixie picked up Johnny’s hand and squeezed it. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Johnny. I’m going to go see Roy now. He’s doing fine. He’ll be in the hospital for another week or so…he always asks about you. He’s going to come visit you as soon as he can." She lay the hand down gently and left the room.
Dixie was greeted by a substantially more encouraging scene upon entering Roy’s room.
"Hiya Dix" he slurred cheerily. Dixie knew the pain medication was making Roy VERY comfortable and a little tipsy.
"Dixie," Joanne rose from her chair and gave the nurse a quick hug.
"Well well well," she exclaimed. "How’s our star patient?"
"Oh…can’t complain," Roy replied with a melancholy smile. "But I don’t know about the "star" part…"
"You were quite a hero at that collapse…at least from what I heard." Dixie stated.
A shadow crossed Roy’s face. "Yeah, some hero….pinned to the floor while my partner struggled to survi-…" Roy’s voice broke and he couldn’t continue.
Joanne, sensing the awkward moment, quickly interjected. "Dixie, Roy has been getting the VIP treatment up here. I’m sure you had something to do with that." She smiled.
"Well, let’s say I made some suggestions," Dixie winked. She noticed Roy’s eyes still downcast. The medication was no doubt making it difficult for him to keep his emotions in check.
The unspoken subject lingered in the air. Roy and Joanne both knew that if there were any good news, Dixie would have volunteered it. Would she volunteer bad news as well? Did they want to know?
"I just came from Johnny’s room," Dixie said lightly. Roy’s eyes shot up to meet hers. "He’s holding on," she said as encouragingly as she could manage.
"Is he…uh…responding?" Roy ventured.
"No." She answered quietly. "But he hasn’t gotten any worse either."
"His parents?" Roy asked.
"They’re still stuck in the blizzards. They can’t even get out of Montana." Dixie shook her head.
"Poor Johnny!" Joanne exclaimed.
"I’ve been spending as much time as I
can with him. And the fellows from the station have been visiting
often as well."
"Does he still have the chest tube?" Roy asked.
"Yes, but his lungs are doing well. They may remove it soon. That would be a step in the right direction." Dixie gave her best reassuring smile.
"Yeah," Roy said, nodding. The room fell silent again.
"Well, I’ll be running along. I’ll see YOU tomorrow, Roy. Bye Joanne. Give those kids a hug for me."
"Oh, I will Dixie, thank you!"
It was Wednesday, three days since the fire and collapse. The mood among Station 51’s A shift was subdued. Craig Brice and Jim Richardson, a paramedic from the south valley, were filling in for Gage and DeSoto. The men had finished breakfast and were lingering over their newspapers, reluctant to start their chores. Considering the circumstances, Capt. Stanley was being lenient.
Chet broke the silence. "I stopped by to see Gage and DeSoto yesterday."
"I saw them Monday," Marco added. "Roy was pretty uncomfortable, still. Kind of out of it, with the pain medication and all."
"Yeah. He was that way yesterday too. I was right in the middle of telling him about that supermarket call we had, and he just fell asleep on me."
"That probably wasn’t the medication, Chet" Stoker quipped with a gleam in his eye.
"Did Johnny’s folks ever make it?" Marco asked.
"No," Cap said regretfully. "They’re still trying, from what I understand."
"Any change in Gage?" Brice asked dispassionately. Chet rolled his eyes at the paramedic’s clinical tone.
"I talked to Dr. Brackett yesterday afternoon," Hank answered. "Johnny’s not responding yet, but it’s early still."
"I’m not surprised," Brice continued. "After coding in the E.R. the way he did. He’s lucky to be alive." He returned to perusing the basketball scores.
Five pairs of eyes stared at Brice, who seemed oblivious to the consternation he was causing.
Chet opened his mouth to say something he’d regret, but was interrupted by the phone.
"Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking."
Cap listened for a minute, his face revealing nothing.
"I see…..uh huh….okay….I will!" He hung up and clapped his hands together once, looking at his crew with barely contained excitement.
"Johnny’s awake!"
Johnny stared out the window of his hospital room from his bed. He could see planes landing and taking off in the distance. Cars and trucks rumbled down the busy streets adjacent to the hospital. The world outside continued to hum along with its usual energy, but his own life was in a state of suspended animation. A pane of glass separated him from a real existence. How could time be passing out there, but seem to stand still in here?
He still felt confused about the events leading to this state of affairs. He remembered the fire, but not much else, except…a dreamlike haze. That’s how it was; when you try to remember a dream, but it’s sort of dark and murky.
There was a soft knock, then the door opened.
"Up for some visitors?" Dixie asked, smiling.
He smiled slightly and nodded. He was still very hoarse and it was too much effort to try to vocalize. Brackett said his vocal cords were still inflamed from the endotracheal tube. That, and the weakness in his lungs and his tender cracked ribs, made speaking practically impossible.
Dixie wheeled Roy in, his leg in a full cast and suspended in front of him. She maneuvered him carefully to Johnny’s bedside. Roy smiled with genuine joy.
"Just a few minutes, fellas," she cautioned, then turned to leave, knowing full well she’d give them as much time as they wanted.
"Hey, Johnny, how you doing? It’s good to see ya!" Roy patted Johnny’s shin.
Johnny nodded. Seeing Roy was just the medicine he needed for his melancholia. "They say I’m gonna live," he whispered and smiled crookedly. "How’s the leg?"
"Oh, I’ve got a bit more hardware now….probably have trouble at the airport." Roy grinned broadly, then asked, "You, uh, feeling okay?"
Johnny shrugged slightly. Truth was, he still felt wretched. It hurt to breathe, he had a headache that wouldn’t quit, nausea was his constant companion and he was still running a low grade fever, making him all achy.
Roy understood. He could see the strain in his partner’s face. Johnny was easy to "read," which was a distinct disadvantage during station poker games. He had a very expressive face, and Roy had known him long enough to know his repertoire.
"I guess Brice is driving the guys crazy." Roy chuckled. Johnny smiled.
"Who else?" Johnny whispered.
"Who else?" Roy asked. "Oh! You mean the other paramedic? It’s been a revolving door, I think!"
Johnny started to laugh, then grimaced in pain and held still until the moment passed.
"Uh…sorry," Roy said sheepishly.
"S’all right…….Roy?"
"Yeah?"
"What….happened?"
Roy looked searchingly at his partner’s face. "Do you remember anything? What did they tell you?"
"Not much," Johnny shook his head. Ow, try not to do that again.
"We were in the fire. The floor collapsed. I was trapped under a floor joist. You were under some debris just a few feet away." Roy paused. "I didn’t know where you were, at first, because you were unconscious and I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t go LOOK for you."
Johnny’s brow was furrowed in concentration. "How long were we down there?"
"A couple of hours." Roy looked down. "They were a little bit delayed in finding us because….I didn’t have the HT. I guess you’d had it, and when we went down, and you were knocked out…" Roy shrugged and looked at his friend.
"So, what did you do?"
Roy snorted softly. "I went fishing."
Johnny mouthed the word "What?"
"You see, I had to get the HT, which was just across the floor about seven feet. So I hooked up some stuff and sort of…fished for it until I could drag it over. Took me about half an hour."
Johnny’s face relaxed in understanding. His head sank back and he stared at the opposite wall.
"You had me pretty scared" Roy went on. "I didn’t know if you were even alive. But then I heard you coughing and you crawled out of that mess you were under - don’t you remember any of this?"
"Just bits and pieces."
"Then, uh, they found us, finally. You were in pretty bad shape, I guess. Brice said you lost a lot of blood."
"BRICE took care of me?" Johnny rasped. He rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, the Walking Rule Book, Mr. Personality. I guess you didn’t know that either." Roy’s eyes twinkled.
"I’ll never hear the end of it," Johnny lamented.
There was a period of companionable silence.
"You know, Johnny," Roy started uneasily. "I kind of gave you a hard time about some of that electronic stuff you were excited about."
Johnny gave Roy a perplexed look.
"You remember. The Expo you went to. You were talking about - what was the word? - miniaturization."
Johnny mouthed "oh" and nodded vaguely. Why was Roy bringing this up now?
"Remember, you were talking about wearing communicators, and how much handier it would be than the HT? Sort of ironic, don’tcha think? I mean, considering how things turned out." Roy gave one of his sheepish smiles he was so good at.
Johnny blinked a few times. Ahhhh! So THAT was his drift. A slow smile spread over his face. Roy prepared himself for one of Johnny’s "I-told-you-so" speeches. Johnny sighed and looked down before returning his gaze to his best friend.
Johnny looked Roy squarely in the eyes and whispered, "I think……"
Oh boy, here it comes, Roy thought.
"….things turned out just fine. Thanks to you, partner."
THE END
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