Swept Away

by Karen Hobbs

John handed the last of the children up into the safety of Roy's arms. Then suddenly it happened, something snapped and he found himself falling, plunging into the inky blackness under the bridge. He tried to grasp the bridge parapet, but succeeded only in dislodging a brick.

He heard Roy call out his name and then everything went silent as his head went under the water. When he resurfaced, he had already been carried twenty yards downstream by the strong current. He tried to force his way over to the bank, but it was no use. The current was too strong. John resigned himself to being carried along by the rushing water until such a time that the flow slackened off and he would be able to reach the bank and safety.

With mounting panic John found that he was gradually being pulled under the raging water. He realised that the cause was his turnout coat which was becoming waterlogged. Reluctant to shed what little protection the turnout coat provided him from the water borne debris, John knew that he had to lose the coat or drown. He unclipped the metal fastening and let the water carry the jacket downstream. John grimly clenched his teeth against the cold, the water was starting to chill his bones. He knew that he would have to make an attempt to get out of the water before hypothermia set in. If he had been wearing a wetsuit he would have had more time.

Suddenly he seemed to get swept round a bend and then found himself in calmer water as if he had been pushed into a minor tributary to the main flow. Slowly he swam towards the bank, willing his cold numbed body to function. His feet hit the bottom and he stumbled up the bank and collapsed on the grass shivering.

*****

Meanwhile at the bridge Roy was frantically calling John's name. Captain Stanley came over as Roy hauled up the snapped rope.

"Roy, do you have a problem here?" he asked.

"It's Johnny, the line's snapped, he's gone in."

Captain Stanley quickly assessed the situation, given the darkness and the speed of the water it was going to be a hopeless task to locate their colleague. He ordered the searchlights to be trained further down the river, but there was no sign of John and no reply to their calls.

"Roy, there's nothing more we can do here," Captain Stanley said

"But we can't just leave him!" Roy cried.

"I know and we won't," the Captain said with grim determination. "Chet, Marco!"

"Yes, Cap," the two fire-fighters came running up

"Gage has fallen in the river. I want each of you to take the PowerTorches and start searching each side of the river."

"Yessir," both the men answered and ran back to Engine 51 to get the equipment they needed.

Captain Stanley got out his handie-talkie "LA, this is Station 51"

"Go ahead, 51"

"LA, one of my men has been swept away in the river. We are instigating a search. Station 51 will be unavailable until further notice, please arrange cover."

"10-4, 51," the dispatcher replied.

"LA, also request that the next Station nearest our location downstream is alerted to a possible casualty in the water."

"10-4, 51 Station 122 will be advised." the dispatcher said.

Chet and Marco reappeared on the bridge, both had drawn a blank in their search.

"The rate that waters flowing, he could be a good mile away by now," Chet commented

"Okay, Roy, what I want you to do is to follow the northside river road, we'll take the Engine and try to get along the south road, although in this weather I'm not sure we'll get that far." Captain Stanley waved at Stoker who brought the Engine alongside. "Keep in touch via the HT," Captain Stanley said as he climbed into the cab of 'Big Red', Chet and Marco followed suit.

John wasn't sure how long he lay in the long grass by the water's edge. He may have even passed out, he'd totally lost track of time. He went to look at his watch but found that it had been ripped from his wrist in the water, probably during one of the collisions he had had with the boulders in the middle of the river. He knew that he had to move, get away from the river to stand any chance of being found, he seemed to remember that a road of sorts ran down each side of the river, perhaps he could find it. Shivering, he managed to stand, amazed that he hadn't broken anything, although he ached like hell, he sure had taken a battering. He staggered up the slope, his ankle giving way halfway up, perhaps he hadn't got away quite so scott free as he had hoped.

It was so dark that he could only see about an arm's length in front of him, as it was he didn't see the fence until he stumbled into it. "Shoot"! he cursed, grabbing onto it for support. He suddenly felt light headed. Possible mild concussion, he decided. Somehow he managed to climb over the fence and then slumped to the ground on the other side, his back against the fencepost. He took a few deep breaths to try and dispel the feeling of nausea which had come over him. Then suddenly he was aware that he wasn't sitting on grass, but on gravel, he crawled forward and touched tarmac. John almost kissed the ground in relief, he had found the road, although anybody driving up it at this time of night was unlikely. It started to rain again, another downpour.

"Just my luck," John muttered as he got to his feet again. Gripping the roadside fence for support, he started to limp up the road, hoping that he was somehow heading in the right direction. The rain got harder, ‘At least I can't get any wetter' he thought as he staggered along, his ankle throbbing.

Suddenly ghostlike through the teeming rain, a pair of slow moving headlights lit up the night sky. John pulled himself upright and moved onto the road, waving his arms. He hoped that the vehicle wasn't moving too fast and would see him in time to stop. Even John wasn't prepared for the vehicle that came into sight.

***

Roy slowly drove along the riverside road. As there was no traffic around at this time of night in the deserted wooded area, he stopped now and again to call out, although he was hard pressed to hear anything above the rushing of the rain swollen river. Soon he was aware that the noise of the water was subsiding as the road started to pull away from the water's edge.

As he drove along Roy kept one ear on the radio traffic on the normal LACoFD channels. He heard Station 122 confirm the LA dispatcher's callout.

"Engine 51, this is Engine 122."

"Engine 122, this is Engine 51, go ahead," came Captain Stanley's voice.

"Engine 51, we are in position on a bridge crossing the river, if your guy comes by we're ready to fish him out."

"Engine 122, appreciate the help. Out"

A few minutes went by then an excited voice said, "Station 51, this is 122, we have him in sight, preparing to rescue."

Roy pulled over, too intent on the drama unfolding over the airwaves to be able to concentrate on his driving.

"Engine 51, okay we've got him," the voice continued, then a few moments later "Engine 51, I'm sorry."

Roy gasped "No, not Johnny!" he cried, his knuckles showing white as he grasped the steering wheel.

"False alarm," the voice continued apologetically "Just a turnout coat, your guy must have ditched it."

Roy let out his breath in a long grateful sigh. "Gage, quit giving me heart attacks," he murmured

"51, we'll keep looking, 122 out."

"10-4 122, we'll keep in contact."

Roy started up the engine and resumed his slow drive down the road. "Damn," Roy muttered, as the rain lashed the windscreen making it even more difficult to see. He drove slowly, keeping an eye out for any turning which would bring him closer to the river's edge. Suddenly through the rain the headlights of the squad caught movement on the road up ahead.

"Probably a deer," Roy thought as he slowed even more, then the shape waved. Roy brought the squad to a stop.

Upon seeing the squad stop. John sank to the ground, exhaustion overcoming him. Roy grabbed the handie-talkie lying on the seat beside him. He extended the aerial."Engine 51, this is HT 51," he said urgently.

Captain Stanley's voice replied, "HT 51, go ahead."

"Cap, I've found him."

Chet let out a whoop of delight, Stoker punched the horn in celebration. "Roy, is he all right?" Captain Stanley asked.

"I haven't checked yet, but he's alive," Roy replied.

Roy got out of the squad and ran to where Johnny lay. Gently he turned him over. "Hey, pal, you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so," John murmured, "My right ankle hurts, but I think it's just bruised."

Roy helped Johnny to his feet and back to the Squad. He quickly got a blanket out of one of the lockers and wrapped it around his shivering partner.

"What on earth happened?" he asked as he turned the squad around. John reached forward and turned the heating up full blast. John pulled the blanket tighter around him. "I don't know, one minute I was there and the next I was in the water. Man, does that heater get any warmer?" he asked.

"Don't worry, pal, we'll soon be at Rampart," Roy assured him.

"No way, I'm okay honest, I just need a hot shower, some coffee and my bunk," John said vehemently, he really didn't want to spend a couple of hours in wet clothes in the Emergency Department of Rampart Hospital.

"We'll see," Roy said. He really wanted John checked out by a doctor, whether John liked it or not. He picked up the handie talkie.

"Engine 51, this is HT 51."

"Go ahead, Roy"

"Cap, I'm en route to Rampart Hospital ETA 20 minutes, could you advise them of our intended arrival."

"Roy, I said no hospital!" John exclaimed.

"10-4, 51. Tell John if he doesn't get checked out he can sleep outside," Captain Stanley warned hearing John's protest over the radio.

John looked at the rain streaming down the windows. "Okay, I'll go," he muttered disgruntled, snuggling up into the corner of the seat.

"Good boy, Junior," Roy said grinning, as he concentrated on the road ahead.

John was asleep in the cab as they pulled into the parking bay outside the Emergency Department at Rampart. Dixie McCall was waiting for them, shivering slightly in the damp night air, with a wheelchair close by.

"What kept you boys?" she asked.

"The patient didn't want to grace us with his company," Roy said.

"Really?" Dixie said.

Roy opened the passenger door of the squad and shook Johnny awake.

"Your chariot's here, Sir" Dixie said with a smile.

"I can walk," John grumbled as he got out of the squad. Unfortunately for him he had forgotten completely about his ankle which gave way as soon as he put his weight on it.

"Whoa, steady on there, pal," Roy said, grabbing him under the arms.

"I'm, okay," John protested.

"Sit," Dixie said sternly, in the kind of voice that brooked no argument, pushing the wheelchair gently into the back of John's legs to force him to sit down.

"Stop mothering me, Dix!" John exclaimed.

"Well someone has to, Hotshot," Dixie replied as she wheeled him into the Emergency Department.

"Well, John, it seems that you were very lucky tonight," Doctor Early said as he looked at a series of X-rays on the lightwall of the examination room. "No broken bones, although you'll probably sport an unusual set of bruises for a few days."

"Thanks, Doc," John said, swinging his legs off the examination couch.

"Hold it, Flyboy, we're not finished yet," Dixie said.

"Huh?" John said "The Doc said I could go."

"No, the Doc said you hadn't broken any bones," Doctor Early said patiently. "I am concerned about this ankle of yours," he continued, prodding John's right ankle, John winced at the contact.

"It's not broken, but it is badly bruised. You will need to stay off of it for a few days," Doctor Early observed. He walked up to the head of the bed and shone his penlight into John's eyes, he then started to examine John's skull feeling for any indentations or fractures.

"There could be a mild concussion here," he said. "Have you experienced any light headedness or nausea?"

"Not really," John replied.

"John," Dixie said sternly.

John sighed, the head nurse knew him too well. "Okay, okay, I did feel a bit queer a while back, but I'm fine now," John insisted.

Doctor Early looked at Dixie. She shook her head."No, Joe. There's no change," she said.

"Dix, could you ask Roy to step in here, please."

Roy appeared a few minutes later, he had been pacing the corridor outside, eager for any word on his partner's condition.

"Doc, is there a problem?" he asked a worried look on his face.

"Potentially, yes, "Dr Early said "But I'm hoping you can help, Roy."

"Sure, Doc, anything," Roy replied.

"We are critically short of beds tonight," Dr Early started. "Normally I would have wanted Johnny to stay overnight for observation. It's nothing serious, maybe a mild concussion, but I haven't got any beds spare. I was wondering if you could keep him under observation tonight."

"I'd have to clear it with the Captain," Roy mused.

"Roy!" John glared at his partner, the vision of a nice hot shower was receding again.

"But I'm sure he won't mind," Roy finished, much to John's relief. "What would you like me to do?"

"Nothing much, just keep a eye on his vital signs in one hour and then first thing in the morning. Any of the normal signs of concussion, bring him in."

"That sounds okay to me, Doc," Roy said.

"Great, let's go!" John said, swinging his legs off the bed ,"My shower awaits."

"Hold it," Doctor Early said sternly. "We still have the little matter of your ankle."

"Oh," John was crestfallen, the hot shower receded again.

"It will need to be strapped up and you must keep it elevated until the swelling goes down. An ice pack should help the bruising."

"Do you do waterproof strapping?" John asked.

"No why?" Dr Early asked.

"Well, Doc you see, I've got some serious time booked in a hot shower when we get back to the Station and you wouldn't want me to have to balance on one leg, now would ya?"

Doctor Early chuckled. "I see your dilemma, John," he said replacing the bandages on the trolley.

"I could strap his ankle after his shower, if that's okay," Roy ventured.

John shot him a grateful look.

"Okay, Roy, that's a deal," Doctor Early said.

"Great!" John exclaimed, finally making it off the couch.

At that moment, Dixie McCall re-entered the room carrying a pair of crutches. "There you go, Johnny," she said, presenting them to the young paramedic.

"Doc..." John began to protest.

"Come on, Hopalong," Roy said forcefully.

***

John slowly got out of the Squad, he ached even more now. He limped off in the direction of the showers. Captain Stanley watched John disappear into the locker room. "Shouldn't he be in the hospital?" he asked Roy, who was retrieving John's crutches from the cab of the Squad.

Roy shrugged, "There were no beds available. I agreed to keep an eye on him until morning," he said.

"Okay, Roy, I suppose that's the only sensible option in that situation. I'll call Dispatch and tell them to stand the squad down for the night. It's 2AM, you've only got a couple of more hours left on your shift, you might as well sleep through them."

"Thanks, Cap. I appreciate that," Roy said.

Leaving his wet clothes at the showeroom door, John stepped under the hot jet of water, letting the heat permeate his cold and tired body, easing the aches and pain of the battering he had just endured.

"You okay in there, Johnny?!" Roy's voice came over the noise of the shower.

"Yeah, fine," John said, "I'll be out in a minute."

Wrapping a towel around his middle John came out into the lockerroom, Roy was waiting with the medical kit to bandage John's ankle and to check his vital signs.

"For Chrissakes, Roy, let me at least get dressed," John snarled opening his locker and pulling out fresh underwear.

"Okay, okay no need to snap. Next time I'll leave you out there until morning," Roy replied huffily.

"Hell, I'm sorry, Roy," John said pulling his shorts on. He held out his hand, "Thanks for coming after me."

Roy gripped John's hand and shook it.

"That's another one you owe me, partner," he said.

"Roy, next time we have a dangerous one you can do it," John replied sitting on the bench. "I've had my fill of being buried, dropped, shot or hit."

"Perhaps you're getting too old for this job," Roy joked as he wrapped the BP cuff around John's arm.

"Perhaps I am," John replied, a serious tone in his voice.

Roy looked up from the equipment box the stethoscope in his hand. "You're not serious are you, John?" he asked, "About quitting?"

John shrugged, "I don't know," he sighed, "It's just that I seem to spend more and more time being patched up."

"But that's all part and parcel of the job," Roy replied, strapping John’s ankle. "You knew that when you took on the paramedic job. Anyway, I can't see you flying a desk, can you?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," John admitted. "Forget it, I'm just tired I suppose."

Roy straightened up "How do you feel now?" he enquired.

"Warmer," John replied, "Just a little tired and bruised nothing more. I could murder a coffee though."

John was downing his second mug of strong black coffee when Captain Stanley came into the kitchen. "Well, Roy, is he okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, Doctor Early checked him over. He's fine apart from a bruised ankle which I've strapped up. I just need to keep an eye on him in case of symptoms of concussion."

The Captain frowned "Are you sure he's okay, Roy? It must have been quite a battering that he took"

"Look, Cap, I am here," John said "The ankle is fine, it's just Roy playing it on the safe side."

"Well, I wish you'd play things more on the safe side, John," Hank replied shortly

John looked at him in surprise "What are you getting at?" he demanded.

"I've just been reading your injury record," the Captain said "It runs to 3 pages now."

"So?" John said, taking another sip of his coffee.

"It's not good enough, John. Your injury rate is way above the others."

John finished his coffee and got to his feet. "So what do you want me to do about it?" he demanded.

"Cap, do we really need to go into this now," Roy interrupted, he could see an argument developing. "I think we could all do with a good night's sleep."

"No, Roy, I want to know what he's getting at," John said sharply.

"You're right, Roy" Captain Stanley said. "Now isn't a good time." He walked out into the vehicle bay. John followed him, limping badly.

"Now seems like a very good time," he said. "If you've got something to say, Cap, then say it!"

"John, forget it," Roy said trying to calm the situation.

"No, Roy, I won't," John said, hands on hips. "The good captain wants to pull me up on my injury record, then let him."

"John, all I meant was that you seem to be getting hurt more, perhaps you should think more before going into a situation where you might get hurt."

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear, Cap," John said. "Right, next time someone's stuck in a burning building, I'll stop and consider whether I'm taking too much of risk going in to rescue them."

"John, that's not what I meant," Hank said.

"No? Well that's how it sounded from here," John replied. "And for your information, I don't particularly like landing up in hospital, I have better things to do with my time." John glanced up at the Station clock. "And at this moment all I want to do is sleep," and with that he limped off to the dormitory.

"What did I say wrong?" the Captain asked incredulously.

"I think you just touched a raw nerve, Cap. He's tired and grumpy, that soaking in the river wasn't a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I didn't handle it well. I guess I'm just tired too," Captain Stanley admitted.

***

"So, Gage, what prompted you to take a midnight swim then?" Chet Kelly asked over breakfast the following morning.

"Your substandard rope tying, Chet," John remarked, his head was thumping and the last thing he needed was Chet's teasing.

"Hey I resent that!" Chet exclaimed, "That rope was fastened off just fine."

"Fellas, fellas," Marco interjected to stop the heated exchanged, "It was a simple case of rope fatigue."

"Rope fatigue? Is that the same as what old grouchy has got here?" Chet inquired.

"The rope is made of natural fibres, the water and the rubbing of the line on a sharp bit of the bridge parapet made it fray," Marco explained.

"And Gage's weight made it snap?"

"Something like that, could've happened at any time," Marco replied.

"Would have happened a lot sooner if you had been on the end of it, Chet," John growled.

"I read something in the latest Fire-fighters Gazette that the Department is looking at replacing these natural fibre ropes with synthetic ones," Mike Stoker spoke up from behind his newspaper. "A number of fire-fighters have lost their lives due to rope fatigue."

All those around the table nodded silently they knew about those deaths, some of those fire-fighters had been friends. They all knew that it could have been one of them.

"How's the ankle?" Roy asked.

"Fine," John replied.

"So why the aspirin?" Roy asked, noticing the tables on the side of Johnny's plate.

"Just my head, got a bit of a headache, that's all" John snapped, downing the tables.

"A headache?" Roy enquired, immediately he got out his penlight and made to shine it into John's eyes.

"Cut it out Roy!" John cried, knocking Roy's hand away and sending the penlight skidding across the table to land in the remains of Chet's breakfast.

"My aren't we a bear with a sore head today?" Chet exclaimed.

"Quit mothering me, Roy," John growled. "I'm fine, now just leave me alone," he gulped down the painkillers and got up. Roy thrust the crutches at him.

"You'd better take these, pal, 'cause no one is gonna pick you up if you fall," he said quietly, John could see that he meant it.

"Huh," he grunted and swung out of the kitchen towards the vehicle bay.

***

"How are you this morning?" Captain Stanley asked John who was standing reading the station noticeboard the next morning.

"Fine," John replied curtly.

"Look, pal, about last night," the captain started "I didn't mean..."

John turned to look at him, a tired look on his face, he shrugged. "That's just the way I am, Cap, take it or leave it," he said affably "But perhaps you're right," he pointed at a notice on the board regarding positions vacant, one was for a teaching post in Philadelphia.

"I was thinking of applying for this one," he said. "Do you think that would keep me out of trouble?"

"Philadelphia, that's a heck of a long way, Johnny," Captain Stanley said.

"I've always wanted to go out East," John replied "Perhaps it's time for a change."

Captain Stanley put a reassuring hand on John's shoulder. "Just don't do anything hasty, John. I'd hate to lose a good man."

John nodded. "We'll see," he replied.

"Swept Away" ©1999 Karen Hobbs. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

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