Tick Tock
(a 'He looked at the clock and sighed..' challenge)
By
Disclaimer: All Emergency! characters belong to Mark VII Limited Productions and Universal Television.Of course I don't own them. I just wanted to play and will return them to the shelf when I am finished.
He looked at the clock and sighed. A sigh was about all he could manage. He didn't have the energy or breath to yell anymore.
He wondered for the umpteenth time, how in the world the clock had remained attached to that wall, when the room's other three sides had imploded around him. He recalled seeing pictures once, of an old bombed out church in London, from World War II, where the whole church was nothing but a pile of rubble, yet one wall stood, still holding an elaborate work of art on the wall.
He couldn't move his head in any direction. The leg of a desk pressed against the right side of his face holding his head securely in place. His helmet had been knocked off and now laid under his left cheek. It felt like his head was being held tightly in a vice, while someone hammered on it. A metal bar of some type rested heavily on his throat, not choking him entirely, but providing enough pressure that it hurt to swallow. While he knew his entire body was buried deep in debris, he was able to look through a small opening that amounted to about 4 inches. The only thing in his line of vision was the clock. Now all he could do was watch the hands as they slowly moved.
He had struggled mightily at first, especially after feeling the pressure on his throat. He had thought he was suffocating. His struggle had succeeded in moving a trace amount of plaster dust and ash from his face, but as he struggled the rest of the debris had just seemed to settle in tighter against his chest and legs. `A caterpillar in a cocoon' he thought. But then a morbid, but seemingly more accurate description occurred to him – Buried Alive.
He knew he wouldn't be visible to his crewmates as they searched. He knew they were looking. They had been looking, according to the clock, for 1 hour and 47 minutes.
~~~
The tones had sounded them out of sleep a little after midnight. They had all stayed up late to watch a movie, so they really hadn't been sleeping very long before being dispatched to a large strip mall very close to the station. In fact, as they rolled to a stop, they were dismayed to see that the dry cleaners most of the men at the station used for their uniforms was ablaze, as was the donut shop next door that had supplied many of their mornings with jelly-filled donuts. The fire would be moving on to the pawnshop, the largest business in the mall, then the bookstore at the end. By the pattern of the burn, it was obvious the fire had started in the dry cleaners and was making its way down the strip mall.
Hank Stanley quickly called a second alarm, as he simultaneously directed Chet and Marco with familiar hand signals that both firemen understood and moved to follow. They pulled hose and headed to fight the worst part of the fire. A security guard was consulting with the captain when Roy and Johnny approached.
"Guys, he says all the businesses are closed and shouldn't have anyone inside. He's the only one on duty here at night. Grab an inch and a half and get started on protecting that pawn shop."
Roy and Johnny headed for the hoses, when a woman in a short pink robe and slippers jumped out of a small car and ran over to the captain. "Where is he? Is he out here? Help!! Help him, please!!"
Both paramedics turned around and headed back to their captain as he questioned the woman clinging to his arm. "Who are you looking for ma'am? No one is supposed to be in there."
"It's Pete. I kicked him out a few nights ago! Oh my god – he's been staying here because he hadn't found a place of his own yet! Help him! What are you waiting for?"
The captain placed his gloved hand on her shoulder and spoke in a firm but calm voice, "What business is he in? I need to know where to look."
"It's his pawn shop! Pete's Pawns! See!!!" She pointed frantically to the sign now illuminated by the flames, `Pete's Pawn & Military Supply'.
Stanley nodded and turned towards Gage and DeSoto. "Get your gear. You might have 10 minutes before you've got to be out. Get going."
The paramedics donned their SCBA's, and Roy grabbed the axe, and headed for the front door. Roy broke the glass on the door, and cleared it quickly with the axe. The business was stuffed full of all sorts of items. Piles of junk make it difficult to move around and hampered their search. Visibility was already poor, as smoke permeated the dark room. Guitars, trumpets, and other instruments hung on one wall, while the wall closest to the blazing donut shop held a large wall display housing hundreds of shotguns, rifles and assorted handguns. "Roy!" shouted Gage, pointing. Roy turned to look at the display. Both men knew that where there were guns, there was ammunition. "Let's move it, Roy! You better let Cap know about this!"
Roy nodded, and paused in his search for the missing man. "HT 51 to Engine 51".
"Engine 51, go ahead."
"Cap, this place is full of all sorts of guns. There's got to be a ton of ammunition here."
Captain Stanley turned to the distraught woman, who nodded in confirmation. "10-4, HT 51, that is confirmed. Complete your search and move out."
With the arrival of Station 58, the extra manpower had bought them time, but the fire had moved completely through the donut shop and would soon move through the wall adjoining the pawnshop – the wall housing the elaborate gun display.
Inside, the paramedics moved through the business, taking care to look under clothing racks and between cramped rows of overcrowded displays. "Pete! Pete! Fire Department! Pete?"
The business was filling quickly with smoke, and the men could feel the heat increasing. "Johnny! We've got to move to the back! There's got to be an office back there. We don't have much time!"
Johnny nodded and moved to meet up with Roy. He had been behind the counter, and accidentally knocked over a box as he tried to maneuver his way out. The box's contents spilled over to the floor. "Ah Jeez! Roy!" He called to his partner, who ran over, expecting that Gage had found the missing owner. Instead, Johnny pointed to the spilled contents of the box. "Grenades! What else is this guy selling here for Chri-"
"Take a quick look Johnny. We've got to tell Cap what we're dealing with here. I'll move on back to the office to find this guy. We've really got to get moving now!" Roy patted Johnny's shoulder and handed him the HT before he moved off towards the back of the business.
Johnny began to pull open boxes and open cabinets as quickly as he could. He found more ammunition and other suspicious looking items, which he expected was a variety of military-grade explosives. Obviously Pete was dealing in a bit more than the legal sale of firearms. He shook his head, disgusted, as he pulled the HT close to his facemask. "HT 51 to Engine 51."
"Go ahead HT 51."
"Cap, there's a motherload of ammunition and other explosives here, grenades among other things."
Captain Stanley looked at the woman, who cringed, then looked around nervously, ready to bolt. The captain kept a firm hold on her shoulder as he said, "HT 51, I want you out now. If you haven't found the owner by now… I want you out!"
"10-4 Cap. Roy's back in the office completing the search. We'll be out in two minutes."
"Make it one, Gage."
That told Johnny all he needed to know. He knew Cap would be pulling back the men on the hoses in front and getting anyone off the roof. As he moved away from the display cases he saw the flames of the approaching fire emerge through one area of the wall, accompanied by the hiss and crackling noises that told him the fire was there, inside the wall. Cap was right when he gave them one minute. He was being generous.
Johnny ran now, dodging piles of junk, yelling, "Roy! We've got to go – now!!"
As he entered the office, he saw Roy bending over the still form of a man clad only in boxers, trying to rouse him. He had obviously been sleeping on a cot in the corner of the very cluttered office. Odds and ends seemed to fill the office, making it just as hazardous to move around as the business end they had come from. Johnny rushed over next to Roy and pointed to the table next to the cot. Empty beer bottles, and several rolled joints sat there. One stub of a joint had been extinguished in a dirty ashtray. The man had never known there was a fire, having passed out long before it even started.
Roy felt for a pulse. "He's got a strong pulse, Johnny. He's just passed out!"
"I've got him, Roy," Johnny quickly pulled off his airmask and placed it over Pete's face. The air wasn't quite so bad in the office yet, but the man could certainly use some clean air. "Roy, there's all sorts of explosives out there! Cap gave us one minute, and that was about thirty seconds ago! Get that backdoor open!"
Roy moved over to the door. It was a security door, requiring a key to exit. Thankful for the axe he brought, he gave the door's lock one swift strike, breaking the deadbolt. He kicked the door open then turned to Johnny, who hoisted the unconscious man over his shoulder. He took two steps, then tripped over a pile of record albums, sending him to his knees. He gasped, but managed to keep his hold on the man. Roy rushed over and took the man from Johnny. "You okay?"
"Yes, let's go!"
Roy moved to the door as Johnny struggled to stand. The record albums slid under his feet, costing him precious seconds as he tried to regain his balance. An explosion rocked the room, throwing Johnny up then forward.
The room fell in, and the last thing he saw before darkness was the clock on the wall. Time's up, Cap, he thought, as he felt the desk's leg hit him in the head.
~~~
Roy was propelled forward out into the alley behind the strip mall and slammed against a parked car, forcing all the air out of his lungs. The man he carried flipped off his shoulder, onto the hood of the car, as Roy dropped onto his side like a rag doll, unable to catch his breath as the world spun around him. Fireman Blake Sutter from 58's rushed over and retrieved the victim by putting him over his shoulder, running behind a dumpster and laid him on the ground.
As more explosions ripped through the building he returned to Roy and pulled the stunned firefighter towards him, dragging him by his turncoat collar across the alley until he was safely behind the dumpster. He checked Pete's pulse and breathing, then moved to Roy's side. "Roy, are you okay?" Blake hurriedly removed Roy's facemask and airtank. He looked at Roy, concerned, as the paramedic lay stunned, desperately trying to make his lungs work. Blake pulled his HT out and called, "HT 58 to Engine 51".
"Engine 51, go ahead HT 58."
"Captain, I have Roy DeSoto and the unconscious victim behind the pawn shop. We've taken cover behind a dumpster. DeSoto is semi-conscious, and having some difficulty breathing."
"10-4 HT 58. Do you have John Gage?"
"Negative, Captain. Only DeSoto and the victim made it out."
An almost imperceptible pause, then "10-4. I'll get 58's paramedics back to you as soon as I can. Stay where you are!" Explosions and the constant sound of gunfire erupted as the fire consumed the stash of ammunition.
Air finally found its way back into Roy's bruised lungs, and he panted, grateful for the feeling. It had seemed an eternity that he couldn't make his lungs work, but now he took great gulps of air, although it pained him with every breath. "Oh, that's… better," he said, holding onto his ribs.
"Roy?" Blake asked. "Where are you hurt?" Blake wasn't a paramedic, and he was worried about both of his charges. He knew they both needed attention, but there was no way for him to get them to the front of the building where the paramedics were stationed.
"Just… got the wind… knocked out of me… a little," Roy gasped.
"A little?" Blake snorted. "You didn't see yourself!" He gave a long drawn out whistle, then smacked his fist into his hand, trying to show Roy how he'd flown across the alley into the parked car.
Blake reminded Roy of Chet Kelly, who also had a flair for the dramatic. There was a good reason all the firefighters at Station 58 just called him `B-S', joking that he was `always full of it'. Roy admitted to himself that his chest hurt, but he really didn't think he had broken anything. Becoming more aware of his surroundings, Roy tried to sit up, "Johnny! Did he get out?" Blake forced him back down, as a particularly large explosion ripped through the air. Blake covered the victim with his body and waited.
It sounded like a war zone for several minutes, as the fire moved through the rest of the ammunition and explosives. For several more minutes, there was only the sound of the fire, while the captain waited until he could be sure there were no more surprises. Finally, Captain Stanley's voice could be heard over the HT, directing crews back to the fire and ordering 58's snorkel truck to start dousing the flames from above.
Roy grabbed onto Blake's arm. "Johnny! Did he… get out?" He looked at Blake's face and saw his answer in the sad eyes. I've lost my partner. He closed his eyes as that realization settled in. Johnny was still back in that office. He listened to the buzzing in his ears as his head began spinning. He was lightheaded, nauseous, and needed to rest for a moment.
"Hey, Roy! No you don't mister! Don't go out on me!" Blake shook Roy's shoulder until he saw the blue eyes looking back at him. "Hey, man, I'm no paramedic. What should I be doing for this guy?"
Roy became more alert, swallowed hard and looked at the unconscious man. "Get his pulse for me Blake." Roy rested his hand on the man's chest and counted respirations. Thirty-four and strong.
Blake finished and said, "Pulse is 82."
"I think he just needs to sleep it off, but he'll still need to be checked out." Roy collapsed back on to the ground, wincing briefly, and worked at catching his breath.
Blake was relieved to see 58's paramedics Tony Ramirez and Eddie Lane pull up, followed by an ambulance. They approached the group with all their gear. "Whatcha' got Blake?"
Blake placed his hand on the victim. "Roy brought this guy out unconscious. The place exploded and threw Roy against that car."
"Just got the wind… knocked out of me," Roy stated, trying to sit up, still gasping.
"Stay put, DeSoto," Ramirez said, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder.
"That was some wind, huh, Roy?" snorted Blake as he once again gave a long whistle and smacked his hand into his fist, describing to the paramedics how Roy had flown through the air and impacted with the parked car.
"Really?" Tony said with a smirk, but sobered quickly, noting Roy's shortness of breath, he placed an oxygen mask on him and began getting vitals.
Eddie was busy checking the victim. "Eddie, he was unconscious… when we found him," puffed Roy from behind the oxygen mask. "Lots of empty beer bottles… and marijuana. Think… he just passed out." Eddie nodded and continued checking him over. Eddie was the quiet one of 58's paramedic duo. Roy had never heard the man speak except in the line of duty.
Roy tried to be patient as Tony opened his turnout and began poking and prodding, producing a wince and gasp as he found a tender spot on his left ribcage. Tony frowned and began opening Roy's shirt for closer examination. "Uh, Roy, I'm pretty sure you've got a couple of cracked ribs."
Roy nodded. That would account for the shortness of breath.
"He almost went out on me after I got him back here," Blake stated.
"I did not!" Roy stated indignantly. "Can't a guy just close his eyes for a second?"
Blake gave him another snort, which initiated a thorough exam of his skull by Ramirez.
"I don't feel any bumps, but you could still have a concussion from that blast. Head hurt?"
"Well, yeah, it hurts a little, but not much really."
"Any dizziness?"
Roy frowned, hesitating. He did not like where this was going.
"Roy?"
"A little."
"Blurred or double vision?"
"Things were a little blurry at first, but not anymore," he admitted.
"Nausea?"
Roy was quiet for a moment. He had been trying to ignore the persistent nausea ever since Blake dragged him from the alley. He nodded reluctantly. This wasn't going the way he wanted it to at all. He needed to be up, looking for Johnny.
"Okay," Tony said patting the man's shoulder.
Tony started to place a cervical collar on Roy, who tried to push it away. "Come on Tony, knock it off! I'm okay. Get off my case."
"Get off your case? Eddie, you want to hand that biophone to Roy and let him tell Brackett to get off his case?"
Eddie held the phone out to Roy with a raised eyebrow. Roy batted it away, "Fine. Whatever. Get it over with."
Tony let out a held breath and placed the collar on Roy.
Roy knew when he was beat. Any possibility of remaining at the fire to help find Johnny was gone. All he could do now was close his eyes and worry. He couldn't see anything behind the dumpster, and wondered just how bad the fire was. He halfway listened to Eddie as he spoke to Rampart on the biophone, relaying vitals and suspected injuries. As he expected, Tony prepared an IV, and soon had it taped to Roy's arm. "We're going to roll you onto the backboard, Roy."
"I don't need the backboard!" He hated that thing. He already felt claustrophobic with the cervical collar on.
"Roy," Tony got his attention, then imitated Blake's earlier description by whistling and smacking his fist into his hand. Then he looked at Roy. "What do you think I should do?"
"Shut up, Tony." Roy wasn't in the mood for joking. He knew Tony was trying to take his mind off worrying about Johnny, but that was impossible.
"Okay," Tony smiled as Eddie helped roll Roy to his side.
"Oh god," panted Roy.
Immediately recognizing the sure sign of imminent retching, "Hold onto him Eddie," Tony said, pulling the oxygen mask away, steadying Roy while he vomited. "You okay, Roy?" Tony patted Roy's arm as he wiped his face.
"I'd have been fine if you hadn't said `nausea'," gasped Roy, extremely irritated, as he was rolled back onto the board.
"Right, because that's how it works," Tony smirked again, but then looked at Eddie seriously, indicating that he should communicate this new development to Rampart.
Only halfway listening, he heard Eddie say, "…patient has vomited and is slightly agitated."
"I'm not agitated, damn it!" That cinched it. He'd be staying overnight at Rampart now, and be lucky to just get one night out of it. Kelly Brackett never liked agitation with a concussion.
Eddie and Tony raised their eyebrows at each other, but ignored Roy's outburst.
"Hear anything about Johnny yet?" He tried to sound calmer, but he was still fuming.
Tony became serious, "No Roy. I'll check with Captain Stanley in a minute. They've got a pretty good handle on the fire."
The ambulance attendants arrived, then helped place both men onto gurneys. As Roy was wheeled from behind the dumpster, he got his first glimpse of the fire since he'd been dragged away by Blake. "Oh, man! Stop a minute!" he insisted.
"You going to be sick again, Roy?" Tony asked.
"No. Just… just look at…" Roy was stunned as he looked at the ruins of the pawnshop. Water from the snorkel rained down, creating clouds of smoke and ash. The office, which still imprisoned Johnny, looked largely untouched by the fire, but it had collapsed upon itself after the explosion, leaving only one wall oddly standing. "He's… in there…" Roy's voice was a whisper under the oxygen mask.
Tony knelt down next to Roy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hang on Roy." He brought the HT to his mouth. "HT 58 to Engine 51."
"Engine 51, go ahead 58."
"Cap, any word on Gage?"
"Not yet. I'll be sending a crew in soon. How are your victims?"
"Victim one is unconscious but stable, and the Code I is alert and oriented, with probable fractured ribs and concussion. We're ready to transport. Stand by," Tony looked down as Roy gestured to him.
Tony nodded and held the HT to Roy's mouth, moving the oxygen mask away and pressing the button. "Cap, Johnny's got to be back here, by the door! He was right behind me! He's got to be close to the door."
Captain Stanley's voice was calm and clear, "Roy, we will find him. No matter how long it takes, we will get him. I promise."
Roy couldn't respond for the lump in his throat. He took one more look at the collapsed building, nodded at Tony, and closed his eyes. He didn't open them again, even at Tony's urging, until he arrived at Rampart.
~~~
Johnny awakened to another explosion, then just listened, expecting each blast to be the one to finish him off. More debris rained downed but mostly he remained oddly protected under the mass of timber, drywall and junk from the pawnshop. The pressure on his throat and chest finally caused him to try to calm his breathing, no easy feat considering the panic that welled up inside him as he struggled against the confines of the debris. His arms and legs were pinned down firmly, not allowing for any movement. He was locked in place staring at the clock. If he let his mind drift, thoughts of slow suffocation and his friends retrieving his broken, dead body chipped away at the positive attitude he was trying to hold on to. The darkness of his prison didn't help his mood. If he wanted to see any light at all, he had to peer through the crack at the clock, eerily illuminated by reflections of the fire and flashing red lights of the fire engines.
As he calmed, he decided to assess himself. It caused him to concentrate, and he was able to calm himself further, as the paramedic in him kick in. Head hurt – that was a fact. He knew he had been unconscious for an uncertain amount of time. Things had been blurry at first, but now he could focus – on the clock – just fine. He was relieved to not be nauseous, knowing he would certainly aspirate if he vomited, being unable to turn his head. The metal bar across his throat didn't cause pain, but enough pressure to feel like he was being slowly choked. His right arm and shoulder ached now, but when he had struggled for freedom earlier, sharp pain had lanced from his collarbone all the way down to his fingertips – that most likely meant several broken bones. The pressure on his chest wouldn't allow for an accurate assessment. He didn't know if he had fractured his ribs and punctured a lung, or if it was just the weight from the debris causing enough pressure to constrict his lungs from taking deep breaths. But it still hurt. And without a doubt his right ankle was either fractured or severely sprained. With the way his luck was looking, it was broken. He felt no pain in his left leg, except for the pressure of something pinning it down. He could wiggle his toes so he was sure there no spinal damage, but his back still hurt. He thought he was lying on something to cause that, though.
The hands of the clock read 1:02 a.m. That's when he heard a voice over the HT. It sounded like Blake Sutter from 58's. He was talking about the victim and Roy. "…DeSoto is semi-conscious, and having some difficulty breathing." He was relieved and concerned at the same time. Relieved that Roy had made it out – he had worried that his partner was somewhere in here, trapped with him. But his friend still hadn't escaped injury. Realizing the HT sounded very close, he started to move his fingers, groping for it. There! He felt it at the very edge of his fingertips near his right hand. Once again his inability to move and the need to yell frustrated him. The effort to reach it caused the pain in his arm to flare. He was exhausted, but forced himself to slow his breathing.
Then he heard the HT again. "…Only DeSoto and the victim made it out."
He noticed the slight pause before his captain answered. "10-4. I'll get 58's paramedics back to you as soon as I can. Stay where you are!" He heard the concern in his captain's voice, and could imagine his face as he forced himself to deal with the fire at hand, while worrying about Roy, and him.
1:03 a.m. Was that all? Only a minute had passed? It seemed like hours that he'd been trapped. The second hand of the clock was moving so slow.
Suddenly more explosions made him shut his eyes tightly and hold his breath. He felt the ground shake as the illegal explosives met fire. The piles of drywall, timber and debris shook and settled in around him. He didn't think he could feel any more buried, but he did. After what seemed an eternity, the blasts stopped. He could hear only the fire, and then Captain Stanley was cautiously ordering men back to work.
More dust and ash floated around in the hot air. He tried not to inhale much of it, but he could taste it and feel it in his nose. He supposed it was a good thing he didn't have his airmask on because he didn't figure on rescue anytime soon, and he would have run out of air eventually, and been unable to remove the mask. He shuddered at the thought. But the clean air would have been welcome.
1:06 a.m. He hoped by now that 58's paramedics were on their way to help Roy. Blake Sutter was a good firefighter, but he was no paramedic and if Roy was having trouble breathing, every minute counted. Every minute… There went another one. 1:07 a.m.
Johnny focused on the sound of the snorkel truck as it gushed water on the fire. It shouldn't be long now. The dread he had been feeling started to ease. He knew he had been waiting for the fire to reach him – knew it was just a matter of time. A small glimpse of hope hit him at 1:08 a.m. He knew there were two companies working the fire now, and having 58's snorkel there would smother this blaze in a short time.
He didn't want to look at the clock anymore, but there was nothing else to see except darkness. He closed his eyes and decided to rest. His head pounded and he really wanted to rub the ache away. He felt the oddly reassuring HT at the edge of his fingers. Even if he couldn't use it, its noise was the link he needed to his crewmates. The chatter was a comfort, and he concentrated on identifying every voice.
He was almost asleep when he heard, "HT 58 to Engine 51." He became more alert, knowing the voice of Tony Ramirez, the paramedic from 58's.
"Engine 51, go ahead 58."
"Cap, any word on Gage?"
"Not yet. I'll be sending a crew in soon. How are your victims?"
"Victim one is unconscious but stable, and the Code I is alert and oriented, with probable fractured ribs and concussion. We're ready to transport. Stand by,"
He heard a long pause, then, "Cap, Johnny's got to be back here, by the door! He was right behind me! He's got to be close to the door." Roy! That was Roy!
"Roy, we will find him. No matter how long it takes, we will get him. I promise."
If Johnny could have spared the extra breath he would have sighed with relief. Roy's injuries weren't good, but he was alert, and he had heard him! A lump formed in his constricted throat as he listened to Roy's pleading voice as he told Cap where he was. He knew Roy was worried. "I'm here Roy," he said aloud, but it came out as a whisper. The pressure on his throat wouldn't allow anything more.
Cap's assurance was meant for Roy, but it was what Johnny needed to hear. It was silly, he knew. Of course they would look for him. Of course they would find him. Of course.
Being buried in this mess, with only a small sliver of space to peer through made him want to scream. The clock made him very aware of every second that ticked by. It made him feel as if there was some sort of countdown, but he wasn't in on the secret of when his time was up. But he knew he couldn't continue to breathe like this forever. The bar that pressed against his throat was only allowing a small amount of air to pass. Would he be completely asphyxiated before they found him? After a while his body would begin to starve for oxygen. He wasn't taking in the amount of air he knew his lungs needed. It took every bit of concentration to inhale slowly, getting as much air in through his compressed windpipe as he could.
He started to think of what he had accomplished in his life. He thought he was pretty happy overall. He began to think of his friends at the station and at Rampart. He found himself picturing every one of them. Each face appeared in front of him. His thoughts kept returning to Roy. Roy was the most important person in his life, without a doubt. Johnny had no living relatives, so Roy, Joanne, Chris and Jennifer had welcomed him into their family. It had been awkward at first. Joanne hadn't liked him much in the beginning. But he'd wormed his way into her heart by proving that he cared for Roy, and protected him on the job. A family couldn't bear to lose a parent. He already knew that.
He didn't think he could love Roy's children more if they were his own flesh and blood. He pictured their smiles – Christopher DeSoto had a wonderful laugh if he were tickled just right. And Jennifer DeSoto's eyes melted his heart every time she looked at him. He had no idea how Roy and Joanne were ever able to tell her no to anything. He certainly could not. Jennifer had him wrapped around his little finger, and she knew it. He briefly wondered what turn his life would have taken if he had never been partnered with Roy DeSoto. He didn't like where those thoughts led.
An overwhelming sadness hit him, as he wondered if he would last long enough to see them again. There was too much to do yet. He hadn't found the love of his life. Roy kept telling him it would happen, but there was probably never going to be someone for him. He longed to have the kind of love he saw between Roy and Joanne. He thought about them. Whenever they were together, they touched. Joanne laid a hand on Roy's arm, or rubbed the back of his neck with her fingers. Roy brushed the hair from Joanne's face, or wrapped his arms around her shoulder as they watched the kids play in the yard. These were things he would never have. Tears formed in his eyes and his vision blurred. He tried to keep them from running over, but he was helpless against the sadness that overwhelmed him.
Finally, he began to feel just how alone he was here and despair, then anger flowed through him.
His heart rate increased and he began to fight the weight that held him down. Again he felt like he was suffocating, and this time he couldn't control his breathing. They would be out there, looking, and he couldn't utter a sound to call them near. He was buried alive. He strained against the load of debris piled on top of him, and tried to scream. Only a pitiful whisper escaped. The metal bar against his throat seemed to be closing off his windpipe and he panicked all the more. His vision dimmed, and he saw the clock again, time passing on, regardless of whether he remained to see it or not. Then all was black.
~~~
His captain's voice over the HT roused him. His head was throbbing, and his shoulder and arm ached in time to his heartbeat. "Stoker, take the east side. See if you and Marco can find a way around that debris."
"10-4, Cap" came the steady voice of Mike Stoker.
Johnny opened his eyes. He had floated in and out of a consciousness for hours as his loneliness and despair caused unsettling dreams. There was that stupid clock. It had been over four hours. It was 5:08 a.m. Floodlights must have been set up, because the face of the clock was well illuminated. The fire was out now, and only a dusting of fine ash scattered in front of his eyes, reflected in the lights. He heard noises, distantly, and knew his station mates were digging through the mess trying to find him. He was sure they were expecting to retrieve a corpse. It had just been too long. He tried to yell, but only a strangled whisper escaped, and this time his throat ached. Suddenly he worried that any further strain on his windpipe might increase any swelling already present. He decided he should stop trying to speak, at least until he knew someone was close.
Another feeling crept up on him. He was cold. The early November morning was cool. He realized he was now lying in about two inches of water. The water that had ultimately saved him from the flames earlier now leached any warmth out of his sore body, giving him a chill.
The fingers on his right hand brushed against the HT, and he knew he had to try for it again. He stretched his hand forward, scraping the HT's case with his fingernail, which he tried to use to pull towards him. He made a little progress, so even though his arm was screaming at him to stop stretching, he tried again, and this time was able to get the HT under his fingers and pull it under his palm. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the pain that washed over him to fade.
He pressed a finger against the transmit button, but realized he wouldn't be able to speak into it. So he clicked it three times, slowly, then three times quickly, followed by three more slow clicks.
"Unit transmitting, repeat," Captain Stanley was annoyed by the radio static.
Johnny repeated the pattern and waited.
"Cap, that was an S.O.S.! Johnny? Is that you?" Chet Kelly's voice sounded sweeter than any music he had ever heard.
Johnny clicked the HT button two times.
"John," his captain's tone serious, "if this is you, give me three clicks."
All previous noise of men digging through the rubble had stopped. Every man was listening to the HT.
Johnny gave his button three presses. He heard the cheers of several men echo around, and then voices started to yell out, "Johnny! Hey! Where are you? Johnny!"
Cap shouted, "Ya' twits! If he could answer he wouldn't be clicking the radio. Now shut up and listen!"
Johnny's eyes watered as he thought of his friends' eagerness to find him. He looked at the clock again, wishing he would instead see someone lifting the weight from his chest and throat. 5:20 a.m., and their voices still seemed far enough away that he reasoned it would take some time to get through to him. But now they knew for certain he was alive, and they weren't just trying to recover his corpse.
"Captain Stanley's deep voice touched him again. "John, we are working as fast as we can now to find you. I need you to answer some questions. Now I want you to click once for `yes' and twice for `no'. Do you understand?"
Johnny gave one click.
Captain Stanley smiled in relief, and saw his men do the same. "Okay John. First question. Are you hurt?"
There was silence as Johnny thought about how to answer that question. He didn't want to worry Cap, because he knew they already had a lot to work through. Worrying about his injuries wouldn't make them work any faster. They needed to be able to concentrate. He have the radio three clicks.
"Johnny, what kind of an answer is that? What am I suppose to think?" Captain Stanley looked over at Chet, who suddenly smirked at his leader, shaking his head. Stanley gave a disgusted grunt then said, "Gage, is that your way of saying, `It's nothing, really, I'm fine'?"
"Click."
"Gage, three clicks is not an option here. Once for yes, two for no… Johnny, are you hurt?"
"Click."
A pause. "Is it bad, John?" The voice was softer.
There was another long pause before there was one click. Hank knew, deep down, that Johnny would have still given him two clicks if he really thought his injuries were not life threatening. He knew now that Gage was worried and hurting. "Okay, John. We'll get you, I promise. Hang in there, and let us know if you hear us close, understand?"
"Click."
"I'll keep checking in while we work, okay?"
"Click."
The captain nodded, satisfied that his paramedic would hold on, when he suddenly heard a flurry of rapid clicks through his HT. He waited until they stopped. He looked at Chet with a question on his face, then he heard the collective voices of the men around the building's ruins shouting out their combined understanding of what John Gage needed. "Roy"… "Roy"… "Tell him about Roy", the men from 51's and 58's shouted out.
"Johnny, are you asking about Roy?"
"Click."
"Okay, John. Roy is fine. He has two fractured ribs and a moderate concussion. He's been giving Dixie and Brackett fits. He won't take any medication until he finds out how you are. They've already caught him out of bed once, trying to get to the base station. Brackett's threatened to restrain and sedate him and said Roy's acting like you. He's not so sure he likes it."
"Click." Johnny smiled tiredly, relieved that his friend was not in danger. He relaxed, and listened to the sounds of his fellow firefighter'
5:25 a.m. was the time on the clock when he started to shiver. Shivering itself wouldn't have been a big deal, except that his body was held down so firmly, that each vibration his body gave off, caused pain to rush from his collarbone down his arm to his fingers. His throat began to ache, and he knew his countdown was nearing its end.
For fifteen more minutes Johnny shivered off and on, listening to the digging and occasional encouragement shouted out by Marco, Chet, Mike and Cap. He felt drowsy and sluggish. He was almost asleep again, when he heard a scraping noise that sounded closer. He forced his eyes open as he tried to make his fingers work. They felt heavy and clumsy. He managed to click the HT a couple of times.
"Johnny, are you okay?" Stanley's voice asked.
"Click."
"Did you hear something? Are we closer?"
"Click."
"John, I want you to give me a click when you hear the tapping that is closest to you. Hang on. Marco, you start, then I want everyone to wait 5 seconds before you start tapping, and listen for John's response.
Go ahead Marco."
Marco tapped, but it wasn't as close as the noise he had just heard.
Another tapping, he couldn't know who of course, sounded even farther away.
The tapping continued four more times from other firefighters stationed throughout the ruins searching, when he finally heard a tapping that seemed close.
"Click."
"Okay, Mike, you seem to be the winner. Everyone move over to Stoker's search area, and fan out. Let's get going! Hang in there John! We have to be close!"
Johnny clicked his HT one time, then let his hand relax. This was taking too long. While Mike seemed close, he wasn't right next to him either. His thinking felt muddy and slow. He was extremely tired and had stopped shivering. He seemed to remember that wasn't a good thing, but at least his body didn't seem to hurt as much anymore. Somewhere in the recesses of his confused mind, he thought that wasn't so good either. He was starting to feel numb, and just wanted to sleep.
This was going to be it. They were close, but not close enough. All too late. The countdown he'd been watching on the clock was nearly up. It was 5:58 a.m. He pictured Roy and Joanne, with Chris and Jennifer. Happy that Roy had survived to be with his family, he closed his eyes as tears once again leaked out. He drifted now, waiting for the darkness to pull him under.
"John?" Captain Stanley's voice seemed to be right next to him, and he wanted to reach for the HT's button, but no longer had the strength.
"John!" It was said more forcefully, and after years of trusting that voice, Johnny's conditioned obedience as a firefighter forced his eyes open. Instead of seeing the clock, he looked into the dark eyes, and soot covered face of Captain Stanley. "Are you still with me, John?"
Johnny's eyes grew larger and he tried to speak, but uttered only a strangled whisper.
"Easy Johnny! It should only take us a minute. Hold still." Hank Stanley was shocked at the condition of his paramedic. Johnny's face was covered in dirt and ash, but he saw the damp streaks where the tears had cleaned a path down the side of his face. He tried to imagine for a moment what Johnny had gone through, buried and pinned deep down in the darkness. A shiver passed through his tall form, then he pushed those thoughts from his mind and focused on the task at hand – saving his friend.
Captain Stanley directed the men to quickly lift and separate the debris. The desk leg was moved from the side of his head, and the metal bar was lifted from his throat. Johnny tried to take a deeper breath, but started to panic as nothing happened. His throat made a rasping, dry noise, but he didn't think he was getting any air. Finally able to see around him, he tried to move his head and body. Pain flared and he saw bright light flash in his head as he continued to gasp rapidly.
"John! Calm down! Stop moving! Tony, get in here!"
"Right Cap." Tony Ramirez immediately placed a cervical collar around Johnny's neck and did a quick check of his head while the men continued to lift debris from the lower part of his body. Tony placed an oxygen mask over Johnny's mouth.
He was suffocating! He struggled and pulled the mask off with his left hand. His body bucked and fought a battle for oxygen.
"Johnny! Stop! You need to have that on!" Captain Stanley was torn as his friend and crewmate verged on an all out panic attack.
Johnny's left arm flew up and grabbed on to Stanley's arm, pulling frantically. Hank held on to the shaking hand, while Tony replaced the mask.
Eddie Lane stepped over Johnny into a space recently created by the displaced desk. He began probing Johnny's body for injuries, and quietly ticked off a list to Tony, who was writing them down and relaying them to Rampart. "Extremely agitated… scalp laceration and swelling… decreased breath sounds in right lung… fractured ribs… fractured right clavical, humerus, radius and ulna… fractured right ankle… hypothermia…"
Johnny only half listened, but kept his eye contact with Hank Stanley, who continued to hold onto Johnny's arm, trying to steady it, while Johnny' hand flexed spasmodically, wringing and pulling on the front of his turncoat, as if that would help move air into his oxygen-starved lungs. More hands held him down as he continued to buck and strain frantically. Tony and Eddie chattered on about vitals and IV's. He felt hands moving over his body, cutting away clothing, splinting his arm and leg. None of it mattered as he continued to gasp for air. He knew he was dying and the hold he had on his captain was the lifeline that kept his sanity from spilling over the edge.
"I've got to start an IV, cap," said Tony, gesturing to the arm that clung to Stanley's coat. Johnny's hand had a great deal of the sturdy cloth balled up inside his hand.
Hank pulled carefully, but could not remove his friend's hand. "He won't let go," Stanley said quietly, the pain he felt for his injured
crewmate was heavy on his voice.
Tony reported the situation to Brackett, who approved a low dose of valium. Tony quickly injected the drug into Johnny's thigh, then leaned back on his knees to let it take effect.
Johnny's frantic movements gradually slowed but he continued to slowly grasp and pull on his captain's coat. Hank pulled his glove off, then placed his hand on Johnny's forehead, looking into his friend's glassy eyes, "John, listen to me, you are safe now. We got you out, and now we have to take care of you. Let us do that."
Johnny's eyes began to glaze over, but he continued to look at his captain. He slowly nodded, then his eyes rolled back into his head as he tried to take air into his lungs. "Tony, he's not breathing!" Stanley yelled.
Eddie had already prepared the esophageal airway that Brackett had ordered. The tube was lubed and handed to Tony, who expertly inserted it, then attached it to the ambubag. He started pumping the bag as Eddie relayed the situation to Rampart.
Hank Stanley pulled Johnny's tightened fingers loose from his coat, and laid the limp arm down reluctantly. He stood and exhaled a shaky breath, rubbing his face. Mike Stoker pulled him away, speaking in a low voice meant only for his captain, allowing the leader to regain his composure. Tony and Eddie finished administering the IV, gathering vitals once more before placing Johnny on the backboard, then into the stokes.
"Lets move him," Tony said. Suddenly there were eight hands grappling for the stokes as each station mate lifted their friend gently, carrying him over the ruins of what had been Johnny's tomb for those long hours. Finally reaching the waiting gurney, they placed the backboard down, and each of them murmured assurances and encouragement, touching the paramedic on the arm or shoulder as he was lifted into the ambulance. Tony continued bagging, holding the IV bag in his teeth until he got inside the ambulance and stationed himself next to Gage. He nodded at the bedraggled group of Station 51 firefighters, as Captain Stanley closed the door and slapped it twice.
Stanley turned towards his men, seeing the worry reflected in their eyes. "Come on, guys. We still have a couple hours of clean up here. Then we're done." Everyone nodded, and silently returned to their duty.
~~~
Bright lights buzzed above his head, making him feel like he was on the roller coaster he had ridden with Chris DeSoto last summer. But back then he had a rush of adrenaline as he and Chris raised their arms in the air and screamed. Now he only wanted to scream, but he didn't have the air he needed.
He was floating, knowing he needed air and that he was probably dying, but oddly enough, it wasn't as concerning to him as it had been earlier. Voices moved in and out of his consciousness, some sounding urgent, asking for information he couldn't give.
~~~
"He started taking some spontaneous breaths on the way in. I'm still supporting, but it's improving," said Tony Ramirez.
Brackett nodded. "From your report I'd say he's got to have some swelling in his airway. We'll get him going on some humidified oxygen, add some steroids for the swelling." He looked at Dixie who started getting the medication and oxygen set up. He carefully listened to Johnny's chest and lungs. He frowned, and his mouth twitched. "Dix, get me ABG's, full chem panel, dip a urine and start him on a foley. Sounds like he's got some gunk in there."
Tony nodded as he continued to bag Johnny. "Over five hours buried in that stuff, Doc. He got pretty worked up when we finally pulled him out."
"I'll get him started on an antibiotic. He doesn't need pneumonia on top of all this." He continued to listen to Johnny's lungs. "Stop bagging Tony. Let's see how he does." Tony removed the ambubag, letting Dixie replace it with the oxygen mask.
All was quiet as they watched Johnny take ragged breaths. Kelly Brackett adjusted the flow to the oxygen himself, and listened to the paramedic's breathing. "He seems to be supporting himself pretty well. We'll keep him on a high flow for now."
Brackett's hands started at the top of Johnny's head, noting the bump and bruising to the side of his face.
There was an ugly purple bruise to his throat. Moving to his chest, he felt along Johnny's ribcage. He completed the quick assessment, looking up at Dixie, "let's get x-ray in here."
They stepped out and heard, "Is Johnny in there Doc?"
There stood Roy DeSoto looking pale and unsteady in his hospital gown and robe, clutching his IV bag. Kelly Brackett grabbed his arm while Dixie pulled an empty wheelchair close. Brackett helped lower Roy to a sitting position.
Roy held his breath, holding his ribs as he sat. He didn't need Brackett rolling him back to his room just yet, so he needed to look like he felt fine. The truth was, he felt horrible. He was starting to feel the deep bruises on his body, the result of being thrown into the car. Brackett had ordered pain medication after confirming that he didn't have a serious head injury, but he didn't want to take anything that would make him sleep just yet.
"Roy! What are you doing? How many times do I have to tell you –" The dark haired doctor was ready to go into full rant.
"Doc? Is that Johnny in there?"
Kelly Brackett knew his lecture wasn't getting through, so he sighed. "Yes, Roy."
"Is he…"
"He's holding on. We're getting x-rays. I want you back in your room, Roy." He wasn't ready to give up just yet.
Roy looked around the doctor, at Tony, who stepped closer, knowing what Roy needed to know. "He was conscious when we found him. Buried pretty deep. Couldn't talk because he had a piece of pipe against his throat. He found his HT and started clicking. That's the only way we found him. He… got pretty upset once he was out…" Tony looked at Brackett briefly, wondering if he should tell Roy the rest. The doctor nodded. "We had to give him some Valium to calm him down so we could get an airway in. He went into respiratory arrest briefly, but started to breathe on his own once we got him here."
"I think he's hypoxic, Roy. Although the ABG's will tell us for certain, I think the pipe obstructed his airway enough that he just couldn't get as much oxygen as he needed. The positive side is that he wasn't in respiratory arrest for long, and he's really responding pretty well to the oxygen now."
Roy rested his aching head in his hand for a moment as he imagined what his friend had gone through. "So how is he? What kind of injuries does he have?"
"He really did a number on the right side of his body," Brackett said gently. "His right arm's a mess and that will require surgery, I'm sure, but we'll wait for the x-rays to confirm that. Right clavicle, humerus, radius and ulna, are all fractured. None were compound, though, Roy. He's got some fractured ribs on his right side. I'm guessing three to four. Right ankle is definitely fractured. He's covered in bruises. Frankly I don't know how he survived. His breathing is the real issue right now. We've got him on humidified oxygen, with some steroids to reduce the swelling in his trachea. His lungs aren't sounding very good. He inhaled a lot of smoke and dust."
"Pneumonia?" Roy asked miserably.
"I've got him started on some antibiotics, but, yes, I think that's what he's going to be dealing with."
He was interrupted by a loud commotion from Johnny's treatment room. One of the x-ray technicians popped his head out the door and yelled, "Doctor Brackett!"
Roy's head shot up and he started to stand when Brackett pointed sternly at him and said, "Stay put Roy! Keep him here, Tony," he gestured to the standing paramedic as he and Dixie rushed into the room.
By now both x-ray techs were struggling to hold the injured paramedic on the exam table. Johnny had the oxygen mask off and was flailing his left arm around. Dixie captured it, grateful the IV was still firmly in place. "Johnny! Stop it!" Dixie urged. "You're okay now. You're at Rampart! Settle down!"
Johnny strained against the hands that held him down. Kelly Brackett stood over him, trying to gain eye contact with the distressed paramedic. "Johnny, look at me!" But Johnny's eyes wandered about the room, seeking, searching. His face pinched in pain as he gasped, trying to form words, but only a rasping cough came out. "Get him in restraints, Dix," Kelly Brackett didn't like doing that, but he worried Johnny was going to injure himself further by stressing the fractures in his arm and ribs.
Dixie looked up at Kel and said, "Can we try one more thing first, Kel, before the restraints?"
He looked up at her frowning for second, wondering why she would question his order. Suddenly, though he understood. He looked again at the searching brown eyes, then nodded at Dix. "Get him in here quick." Brackett continued to hold onto Johnny with the help of the technicians, while Roy was wheeled into the room.
As Roy approached the bed, his eyes grew wide at the condition of his friend, who squirmed and strained against the hands that held him down. "Oh, Johnny…"
"Talk to him, Roy. Try and calm him down." Kel urged.
Roy swallowed hard and nodded. He tried to push himself out of the wheelchair to stand, and was suddenly grateful for the doctor's support in getting him to a standing position. He leaned on the exam table, looking at his friend. "Johnny? Hey partner, what are you trying to do? Get Dixie mad at you?"
Johnny's liquid brown eyes stopped searching, and rested as they met cool blue ones. His lips formed the word, "Roy" but no sound came out. His body stopped straining, and as it relaxed, the hands released him.
"Yes, it's me. Now you've got to calm down. You're safe here. Cap and the guys got you out of there." Roy touched his friends uninjured shoulder.
The eyes started drifting away, but Roy's gentle nudge brought them back to focus on him. "Do you hear me Johnny?"
A whisper of sound came out, and Roy leaned closer to hear. "You… `kay?" He rasped.
"Yes, Johnny, I'm fine. Just banged up a little."
Johnny nodded imperceptibly, still hindered by the cervical collar. "C – couldn't move..."
"I know. But you're out of there now, and as soon as you let these guys finish getting your x-rays, you'll be out of that collar and in a comfortable bed. But you have to relax."
"Don' wan' be… held… down", he croaked out the words with effort.
Roy placed his hand on Johnny's forehead, holding it there. Johnny's eyes closed for a moment, relaxing even more under the warm hand. "Johnny, I know, but think like a paramedic for a minute. The building fell on you for crying out loud. Don't you think Doctor Brackett wants to cover all his bases before he lets you jump up and wander around? He gets kind of cranky if you don't let him have his way." Roy stole a glance at the nearby doctor, who's mouth twitched into quick smile.
Johnny's eyes opened slowly, and crinkled in silent amusement. He nodded at his friend.
Roy smiled. "I'll be right outside the door while they finish with the x-rays. Now behave, okay?"
" `kay".
Roy's arms shook with the effort of holding himself up. Relieved, he let Doctor Brackett help him sit down. Dixie wheeled him out into the hall, as Brackett followed, carrying the chart, already making notes.
Roy felt weak and shaky, but was determined to hold out to make sure that his friend was settled and comfortable. Johnny had gone through too much alone and hurting for too long, to be left alone now. He dropped his head to his chest, and tried to take a deep breath. He felt a hand wrap around his wrist, feeling for his pulse. "Dix! Stop it! I'm fine."
"Roy, cooperate or you'll be back in your room so fast…" Doctor Brackett's tone left no room for argument.
Roy rested his chin in his hand and let Dixie fuss. He didn't even have to look up to know Dixie was giving Brackett the old worried eye. He already knew his pulse was fast, his BP had to be high, and yes, he was diaphoretic. He heard Dixie whisper her report to Brackett, but he didn't really care. He knew, deep down, that they had heard him promise Johnny that he would return, and they would not make him break that promise unless he fell on the floor - which he was trying very hard not to do right now. He felt both their eyes on him, so he sat up straighter and asked, "How much longer?"
"Soon," Dixie said, patting his shoulder.
One of the technicians opened the door and nodded.
"How did he do?" Brackett asked.
"Pretty good until we got too close to his throat. He got a bit agitated and could probably use some kind words right about now. We'll have these done shortly Doctor Brackett."
Brackett nodded as the technicians moved the machine out of the room.
Roy approached the table and noticed Johnny breathing rapidly into the fogged oxygen mask, eyes clenched shut. "Johnny?" He struggled to rise, and had to have both Kel and Dixie help him up. He leaned over his friend. "Hey."
Johnny opened his eyes and swallowed hard, wincing. "It – kinda' smothered… me," he whispered.
"Well, I suppose you have every right to need a little extra space right now. But the x-rays are done, okay?"
Johnny nodded. "Roy… it.. `urts."
"I'm going to help you with that now, Johnny," Brackett said, moving around the bed. "I think he's stabilized enough for a small dose to take the edge off." He instructed Dixie on a small dose of demerol, which she quickly injected into his IV port.
"Let me just take a look at you again." He moved next to Roy and told him, "You need to sit down now, Roy". Roy was only too glad to comply. His head was throbbing as he dropped heavily into the wheelchair. He wheeled himself to Johnny's left side and rested his hand on Johnny's arm.
Brackett busied himself with listening to Johnny's heart and lungs again, checking pupil response and checking the fractures in his arm and leg. Dixie opened the door and grabbed the envelope offered to her by a messenger. Roy watched them, too tired to follow. Normally he would have wanted to see them himself, but he was content to sit and wait for Brackett's report.
"No skull fracture… ankle will do fine after it's casted… three fractured ribs… arm's going to need surgery. Dix, tell Ortho we need them here to take a look. No fracture of his trachea. That's a relief."
He walked over to Johnny, who opened his eyes for a second when Brackett gently removed the cervical collar. "Your throat is fine, Johnny. I think there' still some swelling inside, but with the steroids it should resolve over the next couple of days. I'm going to add some medication to help you relax, okay? You're headed for a CT scan, and I don't want you getting upset anymore. Ortho will be here to take a look at you're arm. It's going to take surgery, but I don't see why it shouldn't heal just fine. It's going to take some time."
Time. He thought his time had been up. He thought again about the clock he had stared at and remembered how alone he had felt when he was sure he would die. The heart monitor beeped to reflect an increased rate.
Roy sat up straighter and looked at his friend's face, which suddenly showed distress. His breathing had also become more rapid. Roy patted his arm, "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Just… thought… out of time…" he rasped in a faint whisper.
"Johnny, come on," Roy leaned over to his friend's ear. "You've got lots of time now. No matter how long it takes, there's time."
He nodded, as his eyes filled with tears and he closed his eyes. He started to shiver, partly from the residual effects of hypothermia, as well from as the memory of his dark tomb.
Roy, concern evident in his voice, "Johnny, you're okay. I'm here, every step of the way." He squeezed his arm again.
Johnny knew he couldn't explain himself. Maybe when he was better, he would tell Roy of the countdown he had kept in that dark place.
Kelly Brackett didn't like the emotional turn his two weary paramedics were taking. Both of them had experienced too much in this long day. He took the prepared syringe from Dixie and inserted it into Johnny's IV. "Sleep Johnny."
Johnny's eyes squeezed shut, and a lone tear made it's way down the side of his face. His features relaxed as he drifted off.
"Doc, is he going to be okay?" Roy's voice was shaky now, trying to keep his own emotions in check. Johnny's despair had peeked out at him, and he saw in Johnny's eyes for that brief second, the fear and hopelessness that had been his best friend's only company for those long lonely hours.
"I think so Roy. He's just exhausted. He does have a long road ahead of him, but we know Johnny will make it just fine."
Roy nodded, and rested his head in his hand, content to wait with Johnny for however long it took.He looked up in time to see Doctor Brackett injecting something into his own IV port. "Doc! No, stop!"
"Roy, you're exhausted and you're in pain. You've held out long enough, but I'm not going to have you risking your health any more. You have got to rest. You've earned yourself an extra day here. Dix, grab a gurney. He's going to be out in a minute."
"That's not fair, doc. I told him… I'd be here." His voice was sad, feeling that he was deserting his friend as his awareness started to fade. He was already getting fuzzy.
In a rare display of affection for his paramedics, Brackett crouched down in front of Roy so he could look into the rapidly glazing blue eyes, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Roy, you have been here. You kept him calm and pulled him out of that hole just as sure as if you'd really been there."
Roy felt his own tears well up in his eyes, but he held them off as he nodded at the doctor who's mouth twitched into a smile. Gravity pulled at his eyelids.
The door opened and Brackett helped lift the limp, fair-haired paramedic onto the gurney. "Get him settled, okay Dix?"
"Sure thing" she said smiling.
~~~
Roy awoke for brief periods that next day and stayed awake long enough to see that Johnny was in the bed next to him. His right arm was cast from shoulder to fingertips, resting on pillows. His right leg was also in a cast up to his knee, lying on more pillows. Johnny's face was clean now, and he seemed to be breathing easier, although he was still getting the humidified oxygen by mask. Content to see his friend resting, he drifted back to sleep.
~~~
Voices penetrated the comfortable place where he had floated for so long. These were voices he knew, unlike the others that had poked and prodded at him all yesterday, but failed to wake him fully. One voice seemed to urge him to wakefulness, even though he wanted to stay under longer. The pain woke with him, but it wasn't as bad as it had been the previous day, when all he could do was pant and moan through it long enough for the next heavy dose of medication to kick in. He had faint memories of Roy's calm voice, helping him breathe through it, but even he couldn't rouse him completely yesterday.
"Ya' think we ought to just let him sleep?"
"No, Captain Stanley, he needs to wake up." That voice was Dixie. She wouldn't be letting him travel back to that comfortable place yet.
His eyes opened when Dixie's hand brushed against his cheek, then rubbed his forehead, like a mother who would try to rub a child's headache away. "There you are, handsome."
Quiet chuckles made him work at focusing, to look around the room, seeing Mike, Marco and Chet standing behind their captain, trying to suppress their smiles.
"If that's handsome Dixie, I gotta' wonder about your taste in men!" Chet guffawed, which earned him a stern look from Dixie.
Johnny did suppose in his fuzzy brain, that he looked less than handsome at this particular moment.
"Ya, twit! Shut up. How are you doing John?"
" O-" he broke off into a fit of coughing, then swallowed and managed a whisper, "Okay".
You look better than you did, John." Captain Stanley's memory went back to when he first discovered the paramedic, and feared he had been too late.
Johnny just nodded and tried to smile. His entire arm was starting to throb.
Marco spoke up, "You had us scared, friend. Until we heard you on the HT, we were really starting to think we weren't going to find you."
"Thanks, Marco," he rasped out.
Johnny turned his head to look over at Roy, who rested on one elbow. "You… still here?" he whispered.
Roy shrugged. "Guess I ticked Brackett off enough to earn a couple extra days."
Dixie spoke up as she adjusted Johnny's pillow under his ankle. "Don't let him fool you, Johnny. He was exhausted, and developed a fever yesterday." Johnny frowned at him quickly, but Dixie continued, "but he'll be out of here tomorrow."
Johnny looked at him for a long moment then dropped his head back onto his pillow. As much as he was hurting now, he wanted to remain awake longer, surrounded by the friends he had often thought about during that long night in the building collapse.
"I could… hear you all," he said as clearly as he could. "It helped…" It was all he could say now, due to the strain and the lump in his throat.
"Hey, glad we could help, Gage. I'm always willing to keep up the chatter, huh?" Chet laughed, but his eyes met Johnny's and briefly they acknowledged their awkward bond in just a look.
Johnny took a hesitant deep breath and settled back into his pillow, feeling every ache now. He was determined to stay with his friends, but his eyes had their own agenda, as they tried to close.
"Let's get out of here. John, we're really glad you're going to be okay. We'll stop by after our shift tomorrow, and then maybe you'll feel more like talking." The captain ushered his men to the door.
Johnny tried to lift his eyelids, but they weren't cooperating, so he nodded. He heard the shuffle of feet and the door close. Then he felt Dixie's hand on his forehead again, and he let out the smallest of moans, unable to hold it in any longer.
"I know Johnny. I have exactly what you need." She injected the medication, then gave him an affectionate pat and left the room.
One last thought urged his eyes open briefly. "Roy?" he whispered.
"Johnny? You still awake?"
"Um, yeah…" he swallowed then coughed briefly, worrying Roy. "Just wanted to… Thanks, Roy".
"Anytime, Johnny. But don't talk anymore now. We have plenty of time."
John Gage nodded and drifted away after whispering, "Plenty of Time…"
~~Fin~~