Trick or...Trick
by
I am not a doctor, nor do I pretend to be. I'm quite sure there are a number of medical mistakes, but hey, they ARE fictional characters, and it's not like it's life or death, huh? I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it into writing. Now that it's out of my head, I can get some sleep. Thank you, and enjoy!
The last remnants of the bright, clear moon fought in the early morning sky to be seen, but eventually the sun won out, and daylight pierced through windows everywhere. The wind seemed to hide, and the air was still as glass, at least for a while. Then, the inevitable-the wake up tones sounded, and six men rose reluctantly, wondering what the day would bring them. The crew always hated this day and the trouble it usually brought them. Halloween in Los Angeles .
There was one hose jockey that had learned to make the best of it, or rather, his alter ego, the Phantom. Of course, everyone knew who the Phantom really was, but it was unspoken, and though the Irishman's Mr. Hyde played the pranks, it was Chester B. Kelly that took the fall. Johnny knew he would really have to be on his toes today if he was going to avoid the onslaught that he figured had been planned well in advance, especially since he was the Phantom's favorite “pigeon”.
The A-shift men got cleaned up and dressed, then fell out for roll call and assignments. The weather so nice for this time of year that they hoped it would be an easy day.
“Gage, DeSoto, I've got a list of inspections that need to be done today,” Captain Stanley reported. “Stoker, you and Lopez have hoses, and, uh, Kelly, I saved the best one of all just for you.”
Chet grinned widely. “Giving a tour to visiting student nurses?”
Hank cleared his throat, then smiled. “I was thinking more of YOU touring-the latrine. Or did you think I had forgotten about that little shaving cream in the pillow stunt you pulled on Gage the last shift?”
If it was at all possible, Chester B. actually appeared to shrink, and his smile disappeared. “Aw, Cap, you know that wasn't me, it was the Phantom.”
“Well, since he couldn't be reached to be given the assignment, I'm leaving it up to you, seeing as how you two are such close buddies.” Stanley had to try very hard not to laugh at the look on the short man's face.
“I'll do it,” Kelly grumbled, his face flushing now, “but he deserved it. He let the air out of my tires.”
“For the hundredth time,” Johnny protested, “I did not let the air out of your tires. That is what happens when you buy bald tires from the back of a pickup truck parked in an alley. It wasn't the deal you thought it would be, and you learned a valuable lesson about trying to save a buck. Get over it.”
“Alright,” Hank interrupted, getting tired of the same bickering every day, “let's get breakfast and then off to work.”
They were able to enjoy their morning meal in peace, though it wasn't much comfort, due to Gage and Kelly giving each other the evil eye the entire time. The rest of the group would have gladly welcomed being toned out at any point. They hated the tension between the two. After eating, the captain began cleaning up the kitchen, while the rest of the men went off to complete their assigned tasks.
Roy and Johnny marveled at their luck for not being sent on any calls during routine inspections of local businesses. Usually, they would get at least one call, but the whole city seemed to be cooperating with them. After completing their fifth inspection, at an arcade, they decided to grab a cup of coffee before returning to the station for lunch.
The pair sauntered into the nearest business where they could get what they needed, a small shop called Donna's DoNuts, and eyed the menu board. On the other side of the counter, two scruffy-looking teens were putting the finishing touches on a tray of doughnuts. When the door opened, one of them, Robbie, turned briefly and spied the men in uniform. Then, he moved in close to his friend, Todd.
“Hey, Todd,” Robbie whispered, pretending to help, “ain't those the same firemen that shut down your old man's auto shop a few weeks back?”
Trying not to appear as if he were looking, Todd turned. Seeing that they were not paying any attention to him yet, he muttered back, “Yeah, that's them. I'd recognize that skinny one anywhere. Don't see too many Indian firemen.”
“Want me to take care of them?” Robbie questioned, his crooked smile making his features look almost evil.
“Nah, I've got an idea. Just follow along.” Todd addressed the men directly. “Good morning, gentlemen, what can I help you with?”
Roy spoke first. “I'll just have a small coffee, black with two sugars. Junior?”
Though he was thin, Johnny sometimes ate like a horse coming off a rough trail. “I'll have a small coffee, cream, no sugar, and two raspberry filled doughnuts.”
“Coming right up, sirs,” Todd acknowledged, turning to fill the orders. He prepared the coffees, placing them on the counter, then tried to look forlorn. “You know what? This tray has been sitting here since early this morning, but I do have a fresh batch just coming up in the back. Would you excuse us for a few moments while we take care of it?”
“Sure, both paramedics echoed, as Todd and Robbie ducked through the swinging doors into the rear of the store. Once in the clear, Todd opened the small locker he had been using and pulled out a small plastic bag, no bigger than four postage stamps. Inside was a white powder, not a lot, but powerful enough for what he had planned. Robbie looked at his friend stupidly, not knowing what the substance was.
“LSD,” Todd giggled, shaking the bag. “I got it from that girl I met at the party the other night. I haven't tried it yet, since I was waiting for a special occasion. I think today qualifies, don't you?”
“Um, Todd, have you ever used that before?” Robbie didn't like the bad break that Mr. Martin had gotten, but he was hesitant to be part of something like this.
“No, but I hear good things. That girl said she was tripping for hours, and she felt on top of the world.” Todd took the tray of freshly made doughnuts and selected two. He opened the bag, and carefully tapped out the contents to mix with the powdered sugar he was about to apply. Just by looking at them, you couldn't tell there was anything other than what was supposed to be on them.
“Do you even know how much to use?” Robbie was getting nervous. “I mean, that seems like a lot.”
“Well, the more, the merrier, as the saying goes,” Todd explained with a glee that was unnatural for him. “Besides, my dad deserves some kind of revenge. It's just a little, not enough to hurt him, just enough to make him feel a little…happy. He really should be thanking me. He probably never had such a good time, and it's coming out of my pocket, not his. Don't be such a baby, Rob.”
Robbie did not want to cross his best friend. He had done so once before, and he regretted it for a long time. He decided in this instance to keep his mouth shut. After all, what harm could there be in a little acid trip?
The two exited the back room with the baked goods in a small sack. Todd turned on his most charming smile. “There you go, sir. All done, just for you. Sorry for your wait, but your order is on the house.”
“Oh, no, really, we couldn't,” Roy started, reaching for his wallet.
“I insist,” Todd ordered, beaming widely. “In appreciation of the fine work the fire department does for the city. Please, I'd be insulted otherwise.”
After exchanging bewildered looks, the medics decided not to push the issue. “Well, thank you, son. You have a nice day.”
“And you as well, sir,” Todd practically gushed to Roy , his plastic looking smile nearly taking over his entire face. Once they had departed the shop, the fake smile fell from his face. “Man, I wish I could be there to see what happens to that creep. Oh, well, good riddance to him.”
Roy guided the squad back to the station as Johnny began consuming the bag of goodies. Somehow, he managed to scarf down a doughnut, without spilling a crumb, while simultaneously complaining about the Phantom. Roy listened on silently, as he had done countless times before. Halfway to the station, Johnny abruptly stopped talking. Roy turned to look at him.
“Everything okay over there?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Johnny stated, looking a bit green. “The doughnut just tasted a little, I dunno, strange, kind of with this aftertaste.”
“Maybe because you inhaled it instead of eating it the right way,” Roy chided. “Drink your coffee, I'm sure that will help.”
Johnny did as was suggested, downing half the cup in seconds. Seeing that it worked, he picked up the other doughnut and slowly began consuming it. He gave up halfway through, though, when this one yielded the same result. He finished his coffee, then dropped the half-eaten doughnut into the empty cup.
They backed into the engine bay 20 minutes later, and upon exiting, were greeted with a delicious aroma. They practically drifted into the kitchen on the wafting scent, where they found Lopez in front of the stove. Johnny dropped his disposable cup in the trash, then wandered over to his crewmate. “Hey, Marco, whatcha fixing today?”
“You and your stomach, Gage,” Marco laughed, still tending to his task. “I happen to be making old-fashioned tortillas, made from my grandmother's recipe, with homemade chorizo. You will love them, I promise.”
Johnny inhaled deeply. “If they taste anything like they smell, I'm sure of it.”
“Let's face it, Gage,” Kelly derided as he entered the room, “you'd eat anything that didn't bite back, and a few things that would.”
“Ha, ha, ha, Chet,” Johnny threw back. “Did you think of that all by yourself, or did the Phantom help you?”
“You just wait,” Chet stated, pointing his finger in Gage's face, “the Phantom will have his revenge, and you will never forget it.”
“Will you twits leave it alone for five minutes?” Captain Stanley huffed, putting down his newspaper. “This is the quietest day I can remember us having, and you two have to go and ruin it. Marco, how long until lunch?”
“About 15 minutes, and well worth the wait,” Marco said confidently.
“I'm going to get cleaned up,” Johnny declared, brushing past his nemesis.
Several minutes went by as Marco finished the meal preparations, and the room remained quiet the entire time. He finally called the men together and set the food on the table. Johnny had not yet returned to the day room.
“ Roy , you want to go see where your errant partner got off to?” Hank asked, hoping lunchtime would not bring another argument about the Phantom and his antics. The fair-haired paramedic wandered off to the dorm room. There was no sign of his friend, but the water had been left running in the sink. His curiosity piqued, he made his way to the engine bay, where he located the missing crewman standing at the edge of the open bay door, staring at the sky.
“Hey, you ready to join us?” DeSoto waited a few moments for a reply in the affirmative, and was not prepared for the answer he got instead.
“Isn't that the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen?” Johnny seemed lost in thought, and Roy figured it had to be some kind of Halloween joke.
“Junior, its 12:30 in the afternoon, sunset won't happen for a few more hours,” the senior partner noted. “Now, come on, everyone's waiting.”
Again, Johnny started making unusual observations. “Do you ever feel like the clouds are talking to you? I mean, if you ever get the chance, you should just sit and listen. I bet they've seen a lot.”
A little unnerved by this topic, Roy reached out to touch his partner's arm in an effort to coax him inside. As he made the slight contact, Johnny recoiled as if he had been burned, and his demeanor changed drastically. Through clenched teeth he growled, “Don't-touch-me…”
Roy , perplexed, backed away, watching as Johnny got the introspective look on his face again, just as if nothing had happened, looking skyward. Fearing, now, that this indeed was not some kind of joke, he made a beeline for the dayroom. He noticed that the others had begun to eat.
“Cap, I think you'd better get out here. Something seems to be wrong with Johnny.” All four men rose from the table and filed out to the engine bay, listening to the brief explanation Roy gave them.
In the engine bay, Roy attempted once more to approach his partner. “Johnny, are you ready to come inside now?”
By now, Gage appeared to be sweating, though the air outside was seasonally cool. “I bet if I jumped high enough, I could land on that cloud right there, and it would take me anywhere I wanted to go.”
Hank stepped forward, the worry evident in his eyes. “John? It's Captain Stanley. Are you feeling alright?”
Johnny seemed to ignore him as he continued his viewing. His arms were crossed, and if it weren't for the unorthodox subject matter, it would appear as if they were having a casual weekend chat. Stanley moved closer and tried again.
“John, why don't you come inside with me, pal, and we'll talk about whatever you want, okay?” Finally, Johnny dropped his arms and turned partway towards the quietly authoritative voice.
“I-I can't,” the stricken medic claimed. “The clouds will leave without me. It's getting dark, and I won't know how to get there.”
Johnny was visibly shaking. Chet, thinking it must be some kind of Halloween ploy to get back at the Phantom, put in his opinion. “C'mon, Cap, anyone can see it's just his idea of a joke. Give it up, Gage, it isn't funny.”
Chet made the mistake of grabbing a trembling arm, and found himself with the same arm around his neck. Johnny now stared fiercely at the crew, his hair damp with sweat, his eyes burning with a ferocity none of them had seen before. He was cutting off Chet's air supply, and his grip was getting tighter by the second.
“I TOLD you, don't touch me!” he roared, his voice guttural. “I'm not going to let you hurt me. I know what you're planning; you can't keep secrets from me. I can read your minds.”
Chet fought to breathe, his hands grabbing ineffectively at the arm encircling his neck, but it was no use. Johnny had a strength that was almost inhuman, and the iron grip would not be broken. The Irishman's face was red as he struggled, then began to tinge with blue as the oxygen was denied him.
“John! Listen to me, this is your Captain!” Hank bellowed, hoping to break whatever spell the young man was under. “Let Kelly go, now!”
Johnny looked crazed and confused. “But you want to hurt me, all of you. I can see you changing, I see you now for what you really are. You can't hide anymore, you monsters!”
Chet's struggling ceased, and as his eyes rolled upwards, he went limp, still held in the grip of a madman. Four men descended on him, determined to rescue Chet from this bizarre fight. Johnny held fast, his strength amazing. Kelly was tossed back and forth like a rag doll.
“Cap!” Roy shouted, still fighting against Johnny's power. “His eyes are really dilated. I think he's on something!”
Hank didn't want to believe it, but the proof was right in front of him. “Isn't there something you can give him, a sedative?”
Roy cursed as his fingers dug into flesh. “I can't risk it; I don't know what he took. We have to get him restrained. C'mon, Johnny, let GO, damnit!”
Hank broke free and ran to the mic on the wall. “LA, this is Captain Stanley of Station 51. We have two Code I's at our location. Take us out of service, and roll an ambulance, another squad, and the police!”
Calmly, as dispatchers are trained to do, Sam replied. “Affirmative, 51, dispatching police and ambulance. Squad 36, respond to Code I's at Station 51, unknown type rescue.”
Without bothering to hang the mic up, Hank jumped back into the fray. It took all four of them, but they were finally able to dislodge Kelly, and he fell to the floor like a sack of flour. Johnny stood rooted to the spot, panting like a caged animal. Hank attempted to approach him, but Johnny bolted like a flash of lightning. Mike and Marco took off after him, but he was fast as a cheetah, and he easily outdistanced them. Defeated after a few blocks, the pair returned to the station.
At the moment, though, Hank was more concerned with the crewman laying docile in front of him, deciding to let the police track Gage down, though it tore him up to think about it. His remaining paramedic had already begun working. “ Roy , what can we do?”
“I need the equipment from the squad,” Roy stated, ripping open Chet's blue uniform shirt unceremoniously. “I'm not finding a pulse and he's not breathing.”
DeSoto pulled the scissors from his belt and cut a neat line up the center of Kelly's t-shirt, exposing bare skin. He looked up into expectant faces. “Mike, I need some help, we have to start CPR while Cap gets things set up.”
Remembering his first aid training, Stoker put one hand over the over and counted off the necessary chest compressions. Roy waited until the engineer stopped, then tried to force air into Chet's deprived lungs. In a flash, Stanley had the equipment ready and the biophone standing by. Marco took over for Roy .
“Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?”
Seconds later, he got a response. “Loud and clear, 51. Go ahead.”
“Rampart, we have a Code I at our location, a 30 year choking victim. Be advised victim is Firefighter Chester Kelly. No pulse or respirations, and at this time we are performing CPR.”
At the other end, Joe hesitated for a moment. Did he hear that right? “51, does he have something lodged in his throat?”
“Uh, negative, Rampart,” Roy managed after a moment's silence. “Victim was manually choked.”
“51, did you say manually choked?” Early parroted. “By whom?”
“John Gage.” Roy blew out the breath he had been holding. It was out over the airwaves, now, and anybody able to pick up the biophone's transmission knew what had happened.
Joe shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. Not knowing the circumstances, he focused on providing orders, rather than asking questions. “51, administer 50 cc's epinephrine, and prepare for conversion.”
Roy was already setting up as Early spoke, having done this same thing hundreds of time to others. Mike moved out of the way, allowing Roy to inject the epinephrine directly into the unlucky Irishman's heart. Removing the large cardiac needle, he quickly attached the leads to the unmoving chest and watched the monitor. Grabbing the handset, he notified the base station of Chet's status. “Rampart, I have administered the epinephrine. We still have v-fib.”
“Squad 51, defibrillate, 200 watt seconds,” Joe instructed. Roy , anticipating the next move, had already charged the small machine, and now he placed the paddles on the cool, pale skin. The shock caused Chet's body to jump, but the reward was an erratic flutter on the screen.
“Rampart, we have sinus rhythm,” Roy uttered, saying a silent thanks. “We are now establishing an airway.”
“51, has the ambulance arrived yet?” the silver haired doctor asked from his spot at Rampart.
“Negative, Rampart, ETA is 3 minutes.” Roy was busy with the drug box, knowing what was going to be ordered.
“51, start a bag of Ringer's, wide open, and transport immediately.” Joe then called down to the ER to get a treatment room ready for when their victim arrived.
The ambulance pulled up a couple of minutes later, and was quickly followed by the squad from Station 36 and a police car. The men ran into the engine bay.
“Hank, what happened?” Vince Howard asked, eyeing the downed firefighter.
“We're not sure, Vince,” Hank relayed, still perplexed. “Johnny and Roy just got back to the station, and we were getting ready to have lunch. We found Johnny standing out here, just looking around, and when Chet tried to get near him, John grabbed him and choked him until he passed out. He just flipped out.”
Charlie Dwyer and his temporary partner, Gary Nelson, leaned down to help Roy as Hank tried to figure out how it came to this. “Any idea what prompted Johnny to do it?”
“I have no idea,” Hank admitted. “I mean, the two of them get into arguments, but it's never gotten physical, ever. It's totally against character for John to do this. Roy said it looked like he was on something.”
“ Roy , is this true?” Vince queried, pulling out a small notebook.
“Yeah, Vince, you should have seen him,” the paramedic exclaimed. “His eyes were as big as saucers, and he was as strong as the four of us together. I don't know how, when or what he took, but I'd stake my career on him being on something.”
“Where is he now?”
“He took off running,” Mike volunteered, stepping forward. “Marco and I chased him for a few blocks, but we lost him when we got near the freeway.”
Roy helped Charlie get Chet onto the stretcher and into the waiting ambulance. Nelson offered to ride in with him so Charlie and Roy could help sort things out. As the ambulance left, Vince used his radio to call for a detective. While they waited, Roy relayed to Vince the events occurring at the station. The detective, Dan Roberts, arrived quickly and introductions were made.
“Mr. DeSoto, where were the two of you before you came back to the station?” Roberts wrote down everything that was said.
“We did some inspections this morning, just routine work,” Roy stated, thinking hard about the day's activities.
“Have you got a list of those inspections?” Roy handed him the sheet of paper, and Roberts looked it over. “Did anything unusual happen at any of these places?”
Roy shook his head, looking down at his hands.
“Were the two of you together the whole time?” Roberts could see that Roy looked a little agitated, but he persisted. The paramedic answered that they had been.
“Does Mr. Gage take any illicit or prescription medications?” Roy 's head snapped up, and he looked angry.
“Are you accusing-?”
Dan held his hand up, realizing that the other men in the room were just as aghast. “I'm sorry, but I have to ask. You never know what could prompt a situation like this until all the questions have been answered. I'm not accusing anyone of anything, just doing my job.”
They all exhaled collectively. Hank spoke for the group. “Detective, Johnny won't even take aspirin unless a doctor twists his arm. He would never take anything willingly.”
“Okay,” Dan said, looking at what he had so far. “Did you go anywhere else?”
“No,” Roy sighed, then straightened. “Wait, yes, we did. We stopped off to get some coffee. It's near the last place we inspected.”
Roberts scanned the list and times before him. “Looks like you did Penny-Ante Arcade last. Where did you stop at?”
Roy thought hard, but the name escaped him. “I don't know, it was some doughnut shop.”
A slight smile playing on his face, Roberts spoke up. “Donna's DoNuts. I've been there a couple of times.”
“I think that's it,” DeSoto confirmed. “We were only there a few minutes.”
“What did you get?” Dan questioned, writing furiously.
“We both got coffee, and Johnny got a couple of doughnuts.” Roy rose and went to the garbage can. Luckily, both cups were sitting on top, untouched. “You think that may have something to do with this?”
“Don't know,” Roberts confessed, looking at the evidence. “You said Gage had two doughnuts? There's a half of one in here.”
“Yeah, he didn't want to finish it, he said it tasted funny, and had a strange aftertaste.” As he spoke the words, Roy made the same connection the detective did.
“I'm going to get this to the lab, but I think your answer is right here.” Leaving the offending food in the cup, Dan sniffed at it. “Could be heroin or LSD. In the meantime, I'll put out an APB for Gage and have them put a rush on this.”
“Uh, Detective,” Hank interjected, “since we're standing down, we'd like to help look for John. If he has ingested something, you're going to need paramedics, and we have two of them, as well as two squads.”
Dan thought about it, mostly about the liability issues of letting non-police personnel assist in a case. But he could also see how important this was to these men. “All right, you can help. But you need to stay back until you're called in when we find him. I'm going to get a lab tech to take care of this, and I want to make a visit to Donna's. DeSoto, would you care to accompany me to identify the employee?”
“I'd be happy to,” Roy replied, relieved to know, now, the source of the trouble. DeSoto took Squad 51, Roberts took his car, and Vince followed in the police cruiser to the doughnut shop. When they arrived, Vince went around to the rear entrance, while Roberts and DeSoto entered the front door. As soon as they walked in, Todd Martin ran for the back door. Robbie McIntyre simply raised his hands and waited, knowing why they were there. Vince caught the teen offender as he ran out the door, and persuaded him, with handcuffs, to join the group inside.
In less than 5 minutes, Robbie had confessed to everything they had done and why. He even went to Todd's locker and got the bag with the remains of the powder.
“How much was in here?” Roy demanded, his eyes burning.
“Um, about a third of the bag,” Robbie offered, figuring it was better to get it all out in the open, knowing that he would still be in trouble. “He put it with the powdered sugar and coated both doughnuts with it.”
Roy dropped his head in his hands. “No wonder…”
“That would be close to 2 grams, wouldn't it?” Vince asked Detective Roberts.
“Yeah,” Dan confirmed. “That could be a lethal dose.”
“We have to find him right away,” Roy offered. “He could get hurt, or hurt someone else.”
Johnny ran until he felt like his legs would fall off. He knew this city inside and out, but in his condition, with his senses overly heightened, it looked alien to him. It was all a colorful swirl, and it hurt his eyes. The slightest sound was amplified, and he covered his ears. On the verge of tears, he spun around, trying to get his bearings. His thoughts made no sense, but he was acutely aware that he didn't feel right.
As he leaned against a wall, trying to stop the onslaught on his senses, a young couple heading to their car nearby slowed as they came towards him. They watched him for a few moments, then the man started forward. He was stopped by a hand on his arm.
“Brad, maybe we should cross the street,” the pretty young woman warned.
“Nonsense, Terry,” Brad said, looking at the uniform. “He's a fireman. He may be hurt. We have to help him.”
“Brad, I don't see any fires near here,” Terry pointed out. “Or firetrucks, or other firemen.”
“Maybe they got separated, or he got lost or something.” Brad moved forward even as Terry tried various objections to stop him.
“Hey, mister, do you need some help?” Brad moved in slowly, sensing that Terry had stayed back.
Johnny looked up, his features twisted by the madness he was trapped in. He couldn't understand what this thing in front of him was saying, but he felt as if he were in danger. He pushed himself off the wall and stood up, swaying slightly.
“My name is Brad,” the kind young man stated, closing the distance between them. “If you need help, my car is just up the street. I can call someone if you'd like…”
Without warning, Johnny lunged forward and grabbed the Good Samaritan by the throat. Terry screamed as she watched the altercation. Johnny flung Brad to the ground and began beating him mercilessly. It took several minutes, but Brad was finally able to break free. He and Terry ran as fast as they could, as Johnny took off in the opposite direction.
Roy and Detective Roberts had just arrived back at the station. Vince had taken the teen suspects and the evidence to the station so the lab could get started on its analysis. The radio the detective carried came to life.
“All units, report received of assault upon an adult male at Weston and Gifford. Caller reports suspect is a white male, approximate age 27, dark hair, wearing an LA County Firefighters uniform. Be advised suspect may be one John Roderick Gage, wanted for assault on a county employee.”
Roberts spoke quickly into the radio, informing dispatch that he would respond with the street units, and letting them know not to try to engage the deluded paramedic if they came across him. He also directed a secure radio channel so just the officers involved, as well as the two squads, could communicate without interruption. Then, the three vehicles drove off in search of a madman.
Johnny lurched along the nearly deserted road towards an industrial area. He felt as if he were being beckoned someplace. He didn't know where, but he knew he had to go. He couldn't think straight, and everything looked so strange. He felt wound up and ready to burst out of his skin. The very air around him seemed to be breathing, surrounding him, the colors suffocating. He was totally oblivious to everything around him. The drug coursing through his bloodstream was destroying him from the inside out, but he was not aware of this. He only knew that someone was out to hurt him, and he had to get away.
The squads and the unmarked detective car raced to the scene of the assault. The battered boyfriend had been driven to the hospital by his girl, so an officer was sent to the ER to get a statement. A total of six vehicles were now involved in the search, sent in different directions. They kept in touch via radio, and after twenty minutes, it seemed as if they had lost him. Then, a lone voice called out.
“Dispatch, this is 4-Baker-29, I have suspect John Gage sighted in the north parking lot of the Eisenhower Industrial Park .”
“Affirmative, 4-Baker-29, do not attempt to apprehend the subject. All units, respond to the Eisenhower Industrial Park .”
Everyone acknowledged the call, with Roy radioing back to Captain Stanley that they had found him and were going to try to get him. A request was made to send an ambulance to that area, and all the vehicles converged on the Industrial Park.
Silently, sirens off, they all moved in, creeping stealthily. When they got close enough, Roy and Charlie stopped the squads and climbed out. They followed on foot, waiting to see what would happen. They watched as he ambled through the empty parking lot, making his way to a water tower. When they spotted the ladder on the outside, leading hundreds of feet into the air, they decided it would be a good time to stop him.
“Johnny!” Roy shouted, now twenty feet from his partner. Charlie, the detective and the assisting officers had all joined him in the parking lot. “It's Roy ! I want you to stop and come with me!”
Johnny stopped, then slowly turned. His skin was pale, and he was drenched with sweat. He was barely able to keep himself upright. He couldn't understand the spoken words, he saw them as colors, and it frightened him. He stared at the group of men, who all looked like twisted monsters to him. They were there to hurt him.
Roy walked towards the psychopathic paramedic, hoping to get through to him. “Johnny, you need help. Someone gave you something, and I have to get you to a hospital.”
As Roy approached, Johnny yelled something unintelligible, then ran for the water tower. Knowing that he could wind up injured or dead, Roy decided that the time to take action was now. He sprinted as fast as he could to close in on his partner, then tackled him, knocking him to the concrete. Keeping in mind the attack on Kelly, Charlie and the officers rushed forward to assist. Johnny struggled violently, practically pushing everyone off of him. It took seven of them to hold him down. Suddenly, he stopped moving, and his eyes widened. He paled noticeably, then was gripped by a terrifying seizure that racked his entire body. His fingers splayed and his jaw clenched as he was overcome by the grand mal. As the convulsions ripped through him, Roy shouted instructions.
“I need everyone to back off, and get me something to put between his teeth!” Roy watched helplessly as his partner, his best friend, succumbed to the convulsions. A small leather notebook was thrust into his hand, and he was able to pry the locked teeth open enough to place it there, protecting him from biting his tongue. Roy moved to hold Johnny's head so it would not hit against the concrete, while Dwyer held down his legs. “Where is that damned ambulance?”
As if on cue, the sirens could be heard, and an officer guided it to the scene. The attendants rushed to them with a stretcher. Roy looked up, and recognizing one of them, directed him to Charlie's squad. “Len, I need you to get 36's biophone and drug box.”
Len rushed over to the squad and pulled out the needed items. He set them on the ground and connected the phone. He turned the handset over to Roy . “Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?”
Brackett's voice floated on the airwaves. The fact that he was worried was made evident when radio protocol was not observed. “I read you clearly, Roy , do you have Johnny?”
“We do, Doc, but he's having a grand mal seizure.” Roy was breathing heavily now, too.
“Are there any signs of injury?” Brackett asked.
“Not so far, but we took him down kind of hard. We have been unable to check vitals or look for injuries due to the seizure.” Roy prayed he hadn't hurt his best friend, but it was better than him falling to his death from a water tower.
“ Roy , I understand he may have ingested up to two grams of LSD.” Kelly Brackett had been advised of the situation by Dixie McCall and Hank Stanley. “That seizure may be caused by his body temperature rising from the drug. You have to get him in here right away so we can get his temperature down. If his temp gets too high, it could cause irreparable brain damage. How long before you get him here?”
Roy noticed that Johnny was beginning to relax. “Doc, the seizure just stopped, so we'll commence with transport immediately. Our ETA will be ten minutes.”
“Start on D5W and Ringer's, and apply a cooling blanket. Get him in here, Roy .” Brackett exhaled loudly, running his hand through his hair.
For the second time in one day, Roy and Charlie had to put a fellow firefighter into an ambulance. They secured him with restraints on his wrists and ankles. Dwyer followed with his squad as Roy rode in with his partner. An officer had been delegated to bring Squad 51 to Rampart, and Detective Roberts followed.
The ride to Rampart seemed to take forever, and the first half was quiet and uneventful. Roy checked and rechecked Johnny's vitals, relaying them repeatedly to Brackett. However, a few minutes later, Johnny woke up.
Roy was surprised by the subhuman growl coming from the stretcher, and he was met with eyes that were filled with hatred. It surprised him, but he knew it wasn't really Johnny, it was the acid. He was helpless as he watched the man he considered a brother strain against the shackles. He called ahead to the base station and informed them of the new development. Without permission to administer anything, Roy could only watch the horrible struggle going on before him. Eventually, the ambulance backed into the emergency room bay, and the doors flung open to show Kel Brackett. “Get him into Treatment Two.”
Johnny's screams echoed down the hallway as he was wheeled into the treatment room, still fighting being tied down. Brackett began barking orders. “I want a full CBC and toxicology report stat. Roy , help me out, here.”
Roy stepped into the far corner of the room to help Brackett wheel a large tank to the head of the stretcher. Grabbing the mask, Roy attempted to fit it over Johnny's thrashing head while Kel turned the dial on the tank. The tank hissed, and Johnny began to struggle less and less, allowing Roy to put the mask on fully. Less than a minute later, Johnny was complacent, slightly awake but no longer fighting. Roy looked at Brackett, his eyebrows raised.
Grinning crookedly, Brackett told him what he had used. “Nitrous oxide.”
Incredulous, Roy shook his head. “You gave him laughing gas?”
Brackett nodded, checking the dial. “Safest thing I could give him right now. We have to keep him calm while we check vitals. Try talking to him.”
Roy leaned over Johnny. “Hey, Junior, can you hear me?”
Johnny looked up, sleepily. He didn't seem to recognize his own partner. His hands twitched ineffectually as he still fought to get free. He moaned behind the mask, but did not try to talk.
“Junior?” Roy tried again. “You're at Rampart, if you can understand me. We're going to get you the help you need. You just need to relax and cooperate.”
Gage did not appear to understand. The nitrous kept him foggy enough that he was subdued. He did not even seem to notice when they moved him to a treatment bed from the stretcher and a cooling blanket was placed on him from the neck down. His temperature had raced up to 105 degrees, and it was imperative that it was brought down.
As the medical team worked, the detective arrived at Rampart. He and Roy left the treatment room and had the charge nurse show them what room Kelly was in. Opening the door, Roy peeked in and found Chet still unconscious, hooked up to a breathing tube and heart monitor. Joe Early was in there, checking everything out. He looked up as Roy entered the room. “Dr. Early, how is he?”
Joe put the chart down. “Well, Roy , we have him heavily sedated, since his throat is swollen from the pressure. He's lucky his larynx isn't crushed, but he's going to have a sore throat for a while, and he'll have to hold off on talking for at least a week. We'll take him off the breathing tube once the swelling has gone down. The heart monitor is just a precaution. Otherwise, I'd say we're looking at a full recovery. How's John doing?”
Roy gave him an update, and assured that Chet would be okay, Roy made his way back to treatment room two again to check on his partner.
It seemed as if every police officer and LA County Firefighter convened on Rampart ER, and statements were taken from every person who was involved, except for the two patients. Roy stayed in Treatment Two, standing by in case he was needed, and hoping his partner would be rid of the terrible demon inside him. The toxicology report came back as they had feared; a high level dose of LSD. The effects had revved up his metabolism so high he was literally burning up with fever. Even with cooling blankets and ice packs, his temp had hovered near 105 degrees, high enough to cause brain damage, or even death. Medical staff came and went constantly, and during the course of several hours Johnny had gone into more seizures. Roy refused to leave, afraid something would happen in his absence. Chief McConnikee had given him permission to take personal time to be there with him, since Johnny's closest family, his aunt, would not be there for at least another day.
The full crew for A-shift had been ordered to stand down, with one firefighter injured, another under the influence of a dangerous drug, and Roy unable to return to duty. The Chief made some calls and got a replacement crew, advising Hank that he, Marco, and Mike would be needed the following day. They would find someone to cover the missing crewmen.
That night, sitting at his bedside, Roy reflected on what could prompt someone to do something so horrible. It sickened him to think that Johnny may never recover because of some punk kid. He was never really religious, but on this day, he prayed like he had never prayed before. That evening, lulled by the sounds of machines beeping, and exhausted after the emotionally charged day, he had drifted off to sleep. His chin fell upon his chest, and he dreamed.
In the dream, he wandered a quiet hospital hallway, looking through the small windows built into the sturdy doors. In each room lay his partner, the machines in the rooms all flat lined. He tried to get into the rooms, one by one, but the doors held fast. The only sounds were of him banging on the solid wood, and his screams beckoning someone, anyone, to let him in.
He awoke with a start when the door thumped closed. He sat up quickly and eyed the visitor. Kelly Brackett stood before him. “Well, hello, didn't mean to wake you.”
“Not a problem, Doc,” Roy exclaimed sheepishly. “I didn't really mean to fall asleep. I guess with everything that's happened…”
“I understand completely,” Brackett assured him. “I just came to check on him. Carol was just in here a few minutes ago and said his temp was beginning to come down.”
Roy felt especially bad now, knowing that one of the nurses had come in, and he had not stirred. He must be really exhausted. He watched as Brackett checked Johnny's vitals, then rose as the good doctor turned to him, his expression softening. “Well, we might have some good news yet tonight. His temp is down to 103. We'll run another tox screen and keep an eye on him.”
Roy breathed a sigh of relief. “What about the aftereffects, Doc, you know…”
“Brain damage?” It stung Roy to hear it put so bluntly, but he and Brackett had been friends for a long time, and he knew that the doctor was not going to hold anything back. “I wish I could give you good news on that. We just won't know until all of the drug is out of his system. By tomorrow, we should be able to run some tests to determine the extent of the damage. Until then, all we can do is wait it out. Johnny has to fight this on his own.”
“Speaking of which, how is that fella that Johnny attacked?” Roy had not had a chance to ask the detective about it, and everyone else was giving him space to deal with the situation.
“According to Joe, he'll be fine.” Brackett began to frown again. “His nose is broken, he lost two teeth, and he has multiple cuts and contusions. But Detective Roberts explained the situation, and Mr. Daniels has decided not to press charges. Although I hear your Chief has intervened, and the County will pay for his medical expenses. I guess there were several victims today.”
Roy nodded and fell back into the chair. He was so very tired, and just wanted it all to be a bad dream. “Thanks, Doc. You don't mind if I stay here, do you?”
“If Joanne doesn't mind, then neither do I,” Brackett joked. “But you might want to consider getting something to eat. Something tells me you haven't had a thing for most of the day. You won't be in any shape to be there for your partner if you're passed out cold on the floor from malnutrition.”
“Yes, sir,” Roy countered, a little relieved to have the tension broken, even for a few seconds. “I'm heading down there now.”
Roy managed to find a halfway decent repast, and found that he did feel a little better after eating. He stretched, realizing that the chair he was temporarily calling home was not doing his back any favors. After he found a men's room and cleaned up a bit, he made his way back to the treatment room, the dream he had earlier haunting his subconscious as he passed the anonymous doors.
Entering the room, he was surprised to see that Johnny's eyes were open. Stepping lightly, Roy moved to the side of the bed and leaned over slightly. “Johnny?”
It took several moments, but Johnny's eyes slid to meet Roy 's. He blinked as if he was under water, but he appeared to be trying to focus. The mask with the nitrous oxide still covered the lower half of his face, but Roy was able to wipe the sweat from the rest of his exposed skin. From under the mask, it sounded as if he was trying to speak. Roy leaned in close.
Very faintly, one word was spoken. “ Roy …”
Johnny's eyes closed again, and he looked at peace. The blonde medic rang the call button, and momentarily he was met with Dixie McCall. She had stayed past the end of her shift to be with the two firemen, as she cared for them all like family, especially the crew at Station 51.
“You rang, Mr. DeSoto?” she quipped, beginning the seemingly neverending task of taking vitals.
“Yeah, he woke up and said my name,” Roy beamed. “That's a good sign, right Dix?”
“Well, it's not an evening at the Apollo,” Dixie began with her fabulous sense of humor, “but it'll do for a start. His temp is coming down, he's at 102. Another full degree, and we can take the cooling blanket off. Tell you what, you keep an eye on him, and I'll go get Kel. Deal?”
“As if you had to ask,” Roy volleyed back, watching Dixie glide from the room. He waited patiently by the bedside until Brackett joined him.
“I hear our young Mr. Gage is starting to come around,” Kel declared, shining the penlight in his patient's eyes. “He spoke to you?”
“Well, just my name,” Roy confessed. “But he seemed to be almost coherent.”
“Let's see if we can break through, shall we?” Kel leaned over the dark haired man. “Johnny? It's Dr. Brackett. Can you wake up for me?”
For long moments, there was no response. Relying on his medical training, and his instincts, Kel pulled down the blanket slightly and tried a sternal rub.
Low enough almost to be missed, Johnny reacted. “Stop…it…”
Kel grinned slightly. “Seems he still has some fight in him. Let's wake the dear boy up. Johnny! Can you hear me?”
From the behind the mask, Johnny groaned. “Yeeesss…shut up…”
Kel straightened up, facing Roy . “I think we can take the blanket off now, and just let the drug run the rest of its course. The tox screen should be back any minute, but I think he's going to make it.”
A short time later, the screen did appear to show the drug diminishing, though he was kept in restraints for his safety during the night. Roy slept in the uncomfortable chair in the treatment room the entire night, waking up every time his partner moved or made a sound. A couple of times Johnny appeared to be having a nightmare, though Roy was not surprised, after everything he had been through. Early the next morning, before the sun made an appearance, a sleepy-looking Brackett visited the room and removed the nitrous mask, allowing Johnny to rest more comfortably.
Around 6 a.m. , Roy was rudely awakened by screaming. “Get it off, get it off, don't let it touch me!”
Springing from his resting place, Roy was at his friend's side in an instant. He grabbed the delusional man by the shoulders. “Johnny! Calm down, it's not real, just calm down!”
Johnny continued to thrash and yell wildly. Panicked, Roy ran into the hall and grabbed Mike Morton, who was just coming on duty, but had been briefed by Kelly Brackett as to the circumstances. “Doctor Morton, you've got to help, Johnny is going crazy.”
The pair ran into the room, grateful that the restraints had been left on. Mike moved to the side of the table. After a cursory exam, he ran to the drug cabinet and drew a clear liquid into a syringe. Roy assisted him in holding Johnny's arm still so the contents could be administered, and less than a minute later, it began to take effect. Johnny drifted off into a hazy sleep, chanting repeatedly until he was completely sedated, “Get it off, get it off, get…”
Shaking, Roy turned to the young doctor. Mike explained his actions. “It's diazepam. At this stage, it's safe to use as a sedative. The LSD is almost completely out of his bloodstream, as of the last tox report, but it still has a tendency to cause hallucinations and flashbacks. My guess is that the drug is giving him a run for its money.”
“How long will it last?” Roy ventured, still bothered by this incident.
“Unfortunately, there is no set time line for something like this,” Morton explained, pushing his glasses higher on his face. “Some people get it out of their system, and never have another problem as long as they live. Others may experience flashbacks or trips frequently and long term. It varies from person to person. There just is no way to tell.”
Armed with this information, Roy made a decision that he would not leave his partner's side, even for a minute. He had to be there to take care of him. Mike left him alone in the room with Johnny to do his rounds. Several more times the pale young paramedic groaned, caught in a madness that none of his friends could ever understand. He fought the demon inside him, knowing that someone was nearby, a friend, a person who would care for him and make things right. The night finally stretched into daytime, and still he slept.
Roy , however, had found no sleep for a while. He paced the room, checking Johnny's vitals periodically, partly to have something to do, mostly because he was keeping tabs on his recovery. Twenty-one hours after being admitted, Mike Morton brought some good news. “We have the latest screen, and it shows only trace amounts of the drug. Later on this afternoon we can run some tests to see how well he's doing. And speaking of which, exactly how much sleep have you gotten, mister?”
Roy knew he looked terrible, but he felt he wasn't at liberty to do anything about it. He felt partly to blame, since he made the decision to stop in that awful shop, plus he had been informed by Roberts why those young men chose to do what they did. He remembered that auto shop, not much more than a garage with a bunch of tools and volatile chemicals. It was a fire waiting to happen, and he had written the report that got it closed down for violations. It was of no comfort to him to know that Todd had indicated that if he had been the one looking for something to eat, it would be him parked in that hospital bed instead of his partner.
“I'll sleep when this is all over,” Roy responded, knowing that he sounded snippy. “Johnny needs me right now.”
“What John needs is to sleep until his body is fully rested, and to let us doctors take care of him.” Morton acted authoritative, but he cared almost as much as Roy did. “Now, unless you want me to fix it so that BOTH of you are sleeping it off, IF you know what I mean, you'll voluntarily find a hole to crawl into and park yourself there for at least four hours. Are we understanding each other?”
Roy hesitated, then sighed. “You'll come get me if anything happens?”
“Now, Roy , what kind of evil monster do you think I am?” Mike joked. “Don't answer that. Just go get a little rest, and you'll see what a difference it can make. Okay?”
“Yeah, you're right,” Roy conceded, feeling the exhaustion catching up with him. “I'll be back in a few hours. Thanks, Doc.”
Roy exited the treatment room on legs made of wood. The doctor's lounge appeared to be empty, and the recliner chairs there were pretty comfy, so he made himself at home. Within seconds, he was fast asleep. Even his subconscious didn't tempt fate by dreaming.
DeSoto awoke more than four hours later, still feeling hung over, but better nonetheless. He looked at his watch, then sprang from the recliner. He pushed himself down the long, sterile hallway, and let himself into Treatment Two. Inside, he found a woman sitting in the chair he had used for slumber the night before. It was Johnny's aunt.
“Oh, Mr. DeSoto, so good to see you,” Aunt Linda declared. “I want to thank you for taking care of Johnny. He seems to be doing well, from what Dr. Brackett says.”
Roy had been so focused, he did not notice that Brackett was in the room with them. “Our reports on the tox screen look very favorable, and Johnny even woke up a few minutes ago, asking for you. His temp is down to 99 degrees now, and I've decided to remove the restraints.”
Not daring to hope that Morton was right, Roy moved forward. He stepped to the side of the bed and gripped the bedrails. “Johnny?”
Right away the dark lashes fluttered, and for the first time since this ordeal began, Johnny looked right at him. “ Roy . You're really here.”
“Of course I am, where else would I be?” Roy remarked, looking up at Linda. “Do you know what's happened?”
“I'm at Rampart, so I must have gotten injured at that fire,” Johnny whispered, still looking befuddled. “I don't really…remember…going, but I remember being hot, very hot…”
“How about you get some more rest, and Dr. Brackett and I will explain everything later, okay?” Roy knew it was best that he know very little at this point, and he looked to Brackett for silent confirmation. “Your Aunt Linda is here, and she and I will have a little visit.”
“Must have been bad for my aunt to come all the way out here,” Johnny stated, his speech starting to slur slightly. “Hi, Aunt Lind-“
Johnny's eyes closed, and he slept peacefully for twelve hours. The next time he awoke, it was the middle of the night, and he turned to see his aunt in one recliner, his partner in the other. He managed to wake Roy without rousing his aunt, and in the stillness of the night, he convinced Roy to tell him everything.
Roy spilled the entire story, relaying why the boys had done their inhuman deed, and about the brave Samaritan that had been beaten. He also explained that Chet would make a full recovery, though he would have to sacrifice his voice for a while.
Johnny reflected on what he had just been told, and in typical Gage fashion, sighed heavily, blinked a couple of times, and said, “I bet that's the last we see of the Phantom for a while.”
Roy knew in that moment that everything would be alright. Johnny was released from the hospital the following day, the same day as Chet, though at different times. Johnny had made an attempt to go see his friend and apologize, but though Chet knew the circumstances, he was not yet ready to deal with it, and he passed on the visit. He knew they would see each other soon enough when they both returned to work, and he figured he could wait until then.
Johnny was closely monitored by the doctors for any aftereffects for several weeks, then he was to keep tabs on his recovery on the honor system, being ordered to return to Rampart if he started experiencing any unusual episodes. He seemed to be one of the lucky ones, as he never had a flashback, though it made him nervous to think he could have one while treating a patient. Roy kept a close eye on his partner, as watchful as a mother hen. He didn't take anything for granted.
Robbie, 17, was tried as an accessory to attempted manslaughter and sentenced to 5 years, suspended sentence, and 200 hours community service in an outreach shelter specializing in getting drug addicts off the street.
Todd, 18, was tried for attempted manslaughter, felony possession of an illegal drug, and intent to distribute, and sentenced to 8 years of jail time. With good behavior, he could get out in 4.
After a while, things returned to normal, or what passes for normal in a stationhouse. But Johnny had been right. It was a long time before anyone saw the Phantom again.