Suffocation at a Snail's Pace

Suffocation at a Snail's Pace

"So, Chet," Roy DeSoto said as he entered the kitchen area. "What's for supper?"

"This chick I've been dating thinks I need to branch out my tastes, so she gave me a French Cookbook. Thought we'd start with escargots."

Roy's eyes widened as he looked at the stocky firefighter. "SNAILS? You're serving snails?"

Chet's eyes glinted mischievously. He nodded and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "I just want to see Johnny's reaction after he eats them."

"Brice? What are you doing here?" Marco looked up from the couch where he had been reading a book.

"I left my sister's birthday gift in my locker. I'm taking her out to dinner tonight and I need it."

"She's been staying with me while in California and I didn't want her to find it before her birthday."

"Of course," Brice said haughtily. "Would I have bought the tickets for her otherwise?"

"Thank you Kelly," Brice answered. "The other reason I stopped in here is that I noticed the squad was unlocked again. You know that's against regulations, DeSoto."

Roy rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to argue, so he fished the key out of his pocket and tossed it at Brice. "Here, you can lock it on your way back to your locker."

"Whatever," Roy rolled his eyes again. "Tell your sister happy birthday from me."

"Thank you, DeSoto, I will," Brice said as he went to lock the squad's cargo doors.

'Station 51…Unknown rescue…1335 Grandview Road. 1-3-3-5 Grandview Road, cross street 5th. Time out 17:52,' the voice of the dispatcher stated after the tones faded.

Brice came running out of the locker room as the squad and engine roared out of the bay. "I still have the key!"

With a sigh, he went to put the key on the table where Roy would find it easily. He promptly changed his mind as he saw the mess Chet had left. He went back to the dorm and laid the key on Roy's pillow.

"Man, I hate false alarms," Johnny said with a sigh. "They always drag me away from something interesting for something boring."

"I was just reading this mystery novel. They were about to discover a major clue."

"Yes," Johnny answered with a glare. "I know you don't read books without pictures, but you shouldn't assume the rest of us don't either."

"When's dinner?" Captain Stanley asked, hoping to derail the argument he could see building. "Kelly, you're cooking…"

"Uh…right, Cap," Chet answered as he moved to the kitchen. "It shouldn't be too long now."

"Well you, Johnny, are in for a treat!" Chet said with a grin. "A culinary masterpiece is what we are having tonight."

"French dressing?" Roy looked at the stocky firefighter in the apron. "THIS is your idea of French cooking?"

"I kinda ruined the dressing somehow," Chet admitted shamefacedly. "But the rest of the meal will be great!"

Johnny chuckled and Roy did his best to hide a snicker. The rest of the men didn't try so hard and actually laughed out loud.

"Yeah, yeah," Chet said indignantly. "Just eat the salads. We got four more courses to get through."

After the salad, Chet put out six small plates, each containing several small, dark objects smothered in a creamy sauce.

Johnny sighed and, with the other men watching intently, picked up his fork and tried the dish. After a brief moment where he chewed thoughtfully, he said, "not bad. A little rubbery, but not bad at all."

"By the way, Chet," Johnny said with a slight cough. "What IS escargots anyway?"

Chet looked at Johnny's empty plate, shot a look at Roy - who rolled his eyes - and said smugly, "snails."

"WHAT?" Johnny's eyes widened in horror. "I been eatin' snails? That's disgusting! How can people eat something that carries its house around with it?"

Johnny's voice trailed off as he felt his throat closing up. He put his hands to his throat and began gasping for air.

Chet rolled his eyes. "Oh, very funny. Johnny, they're just snails, they're not going to kill you! You don’t see anyone else here dying, do you?"

"Come on, Junior," Roy said. "Chet was just trying to expand your horizons some."

Johnny kept one hand on his throat and reached out for Roy, desperate panic in his eyes.

"Of course he's faking it!" Chet said certainly. "He's just trying to get back at me for…"

"WHAT?" Chet exclaimed as he looked at Johnny. Johnny was indeed starting to develop a bluish tinge around his mouth. "Oh, damn! Johnny?"

Stoker, who was closest to the distressed paramedic lunged forward and caught Johnny just as he started to slide out of his chair.

"Cap, call in a still alarm!" Roy was in full paramedic mode by this time. "Marco, get me the drug box and oxygen from the squad."

Roy helped Stoker lower Johnny to the floor. Johnny, who was still conscious,
was weakly grasping Roy's arm, desperately reaching for comfort in any form.

"Roy!" Marco came running into the room. "The squad's equipment is locked in. I need the key!"

"WHAT?" Roy looked up at Marco, panic beginning to show in his eyes. "DAMN! Brice locked the squad and...I never got the key back! Cap! Get another squad over here NOW! Chet, start looking around. No way Brice would've left with that key in his pocket. Marco, call Rampart on the landline. Stoker, give me a hand with Johnny."

Roy looked down at his blue partner. Johnny had slipped into unconsciousness. Roy did the only thing he could do; he laid his partner flat, tilted his head back and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"Station 51, we need another squad at our location. Squad 51 is inaccessible at this time."

Captain Stanley's voice barely registered with Roy as he blew into his partner's mouth. He was alarmed by how much air was not getting through to Johnny's lungs. He did the only thing he could - he blew harder.

"Come on, Partner," Roy muttered between breaths. "Don't you give up on me now."

"Rampart Emergency," Dixie said briskly as she answered the land-line. After listening for a brief moment, she said, "Just a minute."

"Oh Johnny," Brackett sighed as he put the phone up to his ear. "Go ahead, 51. What is your code I?"

"Johnny's having some kind of reaction to some snails he ate. He can't breathe. Roy's doing mouth-to-mouth on him now." Marco's voice came over the receiver.

"Uh, we're not sure, Rampart. All the equipment is locked in the squad and we don't have the key."

"Craig Brice has the key. The squad is locked and we can't get to any of the equipment…including the drug box."

"In that case, tell Roy to keep breathing for Johnny. That's all I can tell you to do at this point. Without equipment, there's nothing else TO do."

"I'll explain in a minute." Brackett said softly as he heard a commotion on the other end of the phone.

"What the hell do you mean there's nothing I can do?" Roy's slightly-out-of-breath-but-definitely-pissed-off-voice came over the line.

"I'm sorry, Roy," Brackett said. "Without equipment, there's nothing I can tell you to do. As long as mouth-to-mouth is getting at least some air through to him, you really just have to either find the key or wait for other help to arrive."

"Doc…I can't just do nothing! Stoker, you've got to blow harder…you've gotta really force the air in…Doc, please! There's gotta be something you can tell me to do! He's dying!"

"I really am sorry, Roy. In this situation with no equipment, there is NOTHING I can tell you to do. Just because it's Johnny doesn't mean there's something special that can be done. I know it's hard, but you just have to hang in there and wait for the other squad."

Chet scrambled over every flat space he could find looking for the key to the squad. On tables, under furniture, in the squad, on the squad, in the engine, on the engine, under the engine, etc…no place went unsearched. The stocky firefighter heard Roy on the phone and realized that if he didn't find the key soon, Johnny would die.

"It's not my fault Johnny's allergic to snails! I didn't know that! I bet he didn't know it either," Chet talked to himself, trying to find a reason not to blame himself. As logical as all the points he made were, he couldn't do it.

Captain Stanley watched the little drama unfolding in front of him. He felt completely helpless. Here was one of his best paramedics dying in his station on his watch and there was little or nothing he could do about it. He was about to ask if there was anything else he could do (fully expecting the answer to be 'no'), when he heard what sounded like a chainsaw buzzing in the engine bay.

"Kelly, what in GOD'S NAME do you think you're doing?" Stanley screamed over the noise as he ran out to see Chet about to cut into the squad with the K-12.

"Johnny's dying, the other squad's not here yet and I can't find the key! You got a better idea?" Chet yelled back.

Stanley scrubbed his hand over his eyes. He thought he heard the word 'tracheotomy' come from the break room.

"At least get some goggles from the engine first," he said with a long-suffering sigh. "Don't know how I'm gonna explain this one to the Chief," he added under his breath.

Within seconds, Chet was back at the squad; K-12 in hand, goggles on eyes. Stanley shut his eyes tight as the over-sized blade moved steadily towards the pristine paint job of Squad 51.

Sparks flew as Chet made the first incision. He was about to take another pass when Stanley heard sirens outside.

He shut off the K-12 with only a slight sigh of regret. While he was extremely glad Johnny would be getting prompt care, he was mildly disappointed by the fact that he wouldn't get to destroy anything after all.

"Bout time you got here!" Captain Stanley grumbled as the medics of Squad 23 barrelled into the room. "Roy, get out of the way and let these guys work."

Roy quickly, if not reluctantly abandoned his friend's care and stood up…only to sway briefly before falling back into the nearest chair.

Roy took a deep breath before he answered. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little lightheaded, that's all. Just need to get my breath back."

"Rampart, this is Squad 23," Dwyer spoke into the biophone. "We have a 30 year old male who is not breathing. Apparent allergic reaction. Vitals are: pulse 120 and thready, bp 90/76, rescue breathing is being performed."

"Squad 23, start bilateral saline I.V.s," Brackett's strong voice answered them. "Insert one amp epinephrine in one and 150 mg antihistamine in the other. Insert esophageal airway and administer oxygen at 15 liters per minute. Transport as soon as possible."

Dwyer repeated the instructions back to Rampart and then moved to help his partner follow them.

"Damn!" Bellingham swore as the esophageal airway refused to fit past the swelling in Johnny's throat. "Get me a smaller one!"

Finally, after three tries, they managed to get an airway established. Granted, it was a much smaller one than a man his size needed, but it was better than a tracheotomy.

The code-I located at Station 51 was enough to take the squad out of service. It was NOT, however, enough to take the whole station out. Okay, by all rights, it should have. But they were toned out before it occurred to Captain Stanley that maybe his men weren't in the right frame of mind for this. If it hadn't been a 4-alarm fire, he would've passed on it entirely. As it was, he swore a blue streak as the engine followed the ambulance for about three blocks before it had to turn towards the fire.

Roy was still sitting where Dixie had parked him over an hour before with a cup of coffee when Dr. Brackett walked into the waiting room. He looked up when he heard the door open and leapt to his feet as soon as he saw who it was.

"He'll be okay, Roy," Brackett said with a sigh and slight smile. "Once the drugs got into his system, his throat opened enough for a decent-sized airway. He's breathing on his own now and they're just getting him settled in a room."

"Not yet, but that's to be expected after all he's been through. He'll probably be out another couple of hours or so. And even then, it'll probably be a couple of days before he's his energetic old self again."

"What about the lack of oxygen? Could there be...I mean could he have..." He was reluctant to say the words.

"Brain damage?" Brackett, being a doctor, could say it. "You started rescue breathing for him almost immediately and since you were able actually get air through to him, it shouldn't be an issue. Of course, we won't know until he wakes up, but I think he'll come through this unscathed."

"They should have him settled any time now. But what I want to know is how in the hell the squad got locked up to the point you couldn't open it?"

Roy chuckled as he moved to warm up his now cold coffee. He topped off his cup and poured one for Brackett.

Roy was on his way out when the men of Station 51 finally managed to get to Rampart.

"He's gonna be fine," Roy said with a smile. "He's sleeping now. Doc says they'll probably keep him overnight for observation and he'll be out for a few more days after that."

"That's certainly good news," Stanley said. "Roy? You need a ride back to the station?"

"We came straight from the scene," Stanley explained. "It's late, we're worn out and he probably needs his rest. If he's sleeping and he's fine, we'll just see him when he gets out tomorrow."

"Kelly, I don't think..." Stanley trailed off as he saw the look on Chet's face. "Okay, we'll be waiting."

Chet moved carefully into the room, afraid of waking his friend. He stood there silently for a few minutes, watching Johnny sleep. After satisfying himself that Johnny was fine, he turned to leave.

"Sorry, Johnny," Chet answered. "Didn't mean to wake you. Just wanted to make sure you were okay...that I hadn't killed you or anything."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Johnny said. "I'm a little hoarse, but I think that's from the tube they shoved down my throat."

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry 'bout the whole snails thing. I should've told you what they were to begin with. I thought I was playing this great practical joke and I nearly kill you. If you never want to speak to me again, I'll understand."

"Chet, you didn't know I was allergic to snails," Johnny said as he moved to a more comfortable position. "Hell, I didn't know I was allergic to snails. Yeah, if you had told me what they were, I probably wouldn't have eaten them, but you didn't shove them down my throat either. I ain't mad at you. I know it was an accident. I forgive you. Okay?"

"Okay," Chet answered gratefully. "I was afraid you'd hate me for almost killing you."

"Nah," Johnny said good-naturedly. "For some of those water balloons, maybe. But not for not knowing I was allergic to snails. If it makes you feel any better, they were kinda good. You could be a decent cook if you put your mind to it."

Chet chuckled, "Yeah, I can just see it. I retire from the fire department and head to my new career. 'Would you like fries with that?'"

It was morning by the time the weary crew of Station 51 returned to their place of origin. Most of B-shift had already arrived. As they walked back from the engine to the dorm, they saw Craig Brice standing by the damaged compartment on the squad. He turned to look at Roy with a puzzled expression.

Chet advanced on Brice with a stormy look on his face. "WHERE THE HELL DID YOU PUT THE KEY?"

"I put it on Roy's pillow in the dorm," Brice answered with a puzzled look. "Why should you care where it is, Kelly?"

Chet had Brice pinned against the squad before he deigned to answer. "Why couldn't you put it where it could be found easily? You nearly KILLED Johnny!"

"CHET!" Roy grabbed the stocky firefighter and pulled him off the confused paramedic. "Relax! It's not worth it! Come on, let him go."

"But…he…but, Johnny…he…" Chet pulled against Roy for a minute before relaxing and looking at the rest of his shift. "But…"

With a wary look at Chet and the rest of the men in the room, Brice headed into the Captain's office, followed by Roy. Stanley gave Chet an encouraging look before following his men into the small room off the engine bay.

When he got into his office, he saw something he never thought he would - Roy had Craig Brice pinned against the wall.

"You couldn't have left me a NOTE telling me where you put the key? Dammit, Johnny almost died because we couldn't get into the squad!"

"DESOTO!" Stanley pulled his paramedic off the smaller man. "Let me deal with this! If you can't behave yourself, maybe you better wait outside with the other men."

Roy took a deep breath and sat down in the chair next to the desk. "I'm fine, Cap. I'm fine."

"Fine," Stanley said as he ran a hand through his hair. "Brice, IS there a reason you didn't leave a note telling Roy where to find the key?"

"Well, it didn't occur to you that it was entirely possible that Roy wouldn't go to the dorms until lights out?"

"Well, there was a huge mess on the table at the time and I feared the key would get lost."

Stanley scrubbed his face with both hands and looked at Brice and then Roy and then back to Brice.

"Consider yourself reprimanded," Stanley said. "Next time, leave a note or something."

"Roy, why don't you go get changed and go home. You look like you're ready to drop."

The next afternoon, Johnny was pacing around his hospital room when a wheelchair rolled in pulling Roy DeSoto.

Roy shrugged. "Brice got a verbal reprimand for not letting anyone know where he put the key, Cap got a verbal reprimand for letting Chet cut up the squad and Chet got a good teasing from the rest of the guys for panicking into going for the K-12 in the first place."

Roy looked sheepish. "I kinda tried to beat up Brice for not letting anyone know where he left the key."

"You WHAT?" Johnny turned in the chair to look at his partner. "You…Mr. Mild-Mannered…Mr. Can't-We-Settle-This-Without-A-Fight tried to beat someone up?"

"Whatever you want, Junior," Roy said with a sigh as he pushed Johnny through the halls of the hospital towards the parking lot.