Chapter 1
This story is an idea that HotShow dangled in front of me back in October of 2016 and asked if I would be interested in writing. I agreed, interested in the subject, but warned HotShow that I didn't want to start posting until I finished a few of my WIP stories. Now that two are done and the other two are getting close, it's time to get it out there. So thanks for being patient, my friend, and will be sending you more chapters and questions about the story as I start on Chapter 4!
All things Emergency belong to Universal, etc., etc., etc.…
Keep in mind that this story is fiction and that this contest would probably never happen in the real world, but it sure is going to be fun to imagine and write, and hopefully read!
"Sounds like one of those things at the supermarket, you know, where the guys see who can bag the groceries the fastest?"
It was Chet Kelly's voice that Roy heard as he ambled into the day room, buttoning up his blue uniform shirt. Chet and Marco were studying a piece of paper posted on the bulletin board, Mike Stoker was standing by the coffee pot observing the two linemen with an amused smile, and John Gage was seated at the table studiously ignoring everyone.
"Morning Johnny, Mike," Roy greeted, bee lining towards the proffered cup of steaming liquid. He accepted the offering with a nod of thanks and looked at his partner, who had acknowledged his salutation with a grunted hello and returned to the sports page, his hand curved protectively around his own mug of joe. Despite his apparent inattention, Roy was pretty sure that John was watching the two conversing men. He tilted his own head curiously towards what sounded like the beginnings of an argument and watched Chet's wildly waving hands.
"What's going on over there?" He asked, blowing on the contents of his mug before taking a cautious sip. When the question produced no response from Johnny except for a rattle of the paper and a shrug, DeSoto glanced towards Mike. Mike imitated the sullen paramedic with a shrug of his own but his smile grew wider.
"Something from Headquarters, some kind of contest I think, involving all the stations."
"Oh? Anything interesting?"
Stoker joined them at the table, draping long legs over a chair and setting down his coffee. "Not really sure, I haven't been able to get in close to read it yet. "The boys" over there are hogging it up."
DeSoto let his own smile escape at the engineer's unusually long winded answer. He enjoyed his caffeine for several long minutes, letting the heated words flowing from the corner wash over him and trickle away; the argument suddenly ceased and the silence caught his attention. Both linemen approached the kitchen counter and poured out the remaining coffee into their mugs. Chet banged down the empty pot and Marco pointed a finger at it.
"Your turn to make it," he smirked, and Roy had a feeling that Lopez had been the one to win their battle of words. Chet acknowledged the lofty command with a snort, but tossed the vessel into the sink and picked up a clean one that was resting upside down on the counter. He pointedly turned his back on the rest of the crew as he busied himself making a new pot.
Marco pulled out a chair and plopped into it, glancing at his watch. He reached a stealthy hand towards the back of the newspaper Gage was still perusing; without looking up the dark haired paramedic shook the newsprint in warning and snaked a fast hand under it. He swatted at the invading digits and Lopez snatched back his questing fingers.
"Where's the rest of it?" He asked, smacking his hand down.
John finally lowered the paper and glanced around. "Dunno, that's all there was."
He dropped the section down, carefully folded it, and slid it across the polished wood. "Have at it, nothing in there anyway."
Marco snatched it up, narrowly avoiding smacking Chet in the face with it. He shook it open with a fast snap and stared at it for a moment before lowering it and looking at Roy.
"Say Roy, how come you do the driving to most of your calls?"
Roy, who now had his head propped up with a hand, blinked at the unexpected question and then looked over at Johnny. "Ah, he's a better navigator then I am?"
Chet snickered and shot off his own observation, deliberately keeping his back turned. "Or you're a better driver then he is?"
Chirps of amusement drifted from all of the occupants at the table except for Gage, who scowled, clearly not agreeing with Kelly's little jab at him. "Can it, Chet. I drive when I want to; I just happen to not want to drive most of the time."
"Riiiiiight," Chet drawled out, finally turning around and regarding his pigeon with a solemn look. "Just like you ask out the nurses at the hospital "when you want to" or win at cards "when you want to"…
Another round of mirth rose from the table. Johnny made a huffing sound and abandoned the chuckling hyenas circled around him; he strolled over to the bulletin board and studied the new announcement. He flicked the paper with his finger before nonchalantly strolling out of the room. Roy followed him with his eyes, and then got up to check out the paper himself.
"Well, that's different," he said softly, before heading out of the day room. Gage was easy to locate in the empty, echoing expanse of the apparatus bay; he was standing in front of the county map staring thoughtfully at the pins.
"Think we should enter that contest?" Roy asked, leaning a shoulder into the wall and crossing his legs.
"I don't know…..sounds kinda corny, don't cha think? Besides, how exactly are they going to do this so it will be safe and fair, and, well, whatever….…"
John was shaking his head, but DeSoto recognized the gleam in his eyes and the building excitement in his body language. His partner was definitely interested; he was just going to need some encouragement.
"They've got it all worked out so that the teams follow the rules. Johnny, you know we have a good chance of winning this," he cajoled, thumping him lightly on the arm. "Besides, we both could use the cash prize and the other half goes to the charity of our choice. JoAnne and I really need a night out, and I'm sure you can think of some interesting ways to spend yours."
"Yeah, sure I can always use money, but Roy, this is a bunch of guys, firemen for cripes sake – you know we don't do anything less than full throttle! There's gonna be blood spilled in the streets by the time this is over! You've seen how these guys are at the picnics and the Olympics, and all we win for those events are ribbons and medals! This is for cold, hard cash!" Johnny's hands, which had been relaxed at his side, were gesturing wildly as he finished, emphasizing his point.
The older paramedic smiled. "Right, we're a bunch of competitive fools, I'll give you that. But like I said, they're going to have rules and safeguards in place to keep us nuts in line. Besides, we have a secret weapon."
"Secret weapon, what's that?"
"Not what, but who…you my friend, are our secret weapon."
"And just what's that supposed to mean, friend?" John crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.
"Look, I don't know how you do it, but after about the first three months of working together, you hardly ever looked at the map here or in the squad. In fact, you seem to know every street and shortcut in our area, as well as everything surrounding our territory. There's no way you could have memorized all of that, even in the two plus years of working out of this station."
"Huh," Johnny replied, at a loss for words. He spun on his heel and headed for the dorm, Roy right behind him.
Roy waited until his friend had dropped down onto his bunk before pursuing his questioning. He sat down across from him and leaned forward. "So how do you do it?"
"How do I do it? It's just a simple matter of learning the streets and paying attention to the detours, road closures, construction, that sorta thing." Gage flopped back on his bed, lacing his hands behind his head and staring stubbornly up at the ceiling.
Not to be deterred, DeSoto leaned forward farther, balancing his hands on the other's mattress for support. "There's more to it than that. I swear you know every out of the way path in the district, so unless you've been communicating with the alley cats….."
"Look, it's embarrassing, okay? It's no big deal, just something I seem to be able to do."
"Which is what?"
There was a long pause, but the relentless questioning seemed to have worked, because Johnny finally muttered the reason. "I have a photographic memory, all right? Can you just leave it alone?"
Roy sat back with a sigh, unable to understand his partner's obvious distress. "So what's wrong with that? That must have come in handy during school, and when you were studying for the department."
"Yeah sure, along with all the accusations of cheating, being a freak, you name it, they called it. Bloody hell, Roy, even my parents thought I was writing the alphabet down my arms before they realized I was telling the truth. Imagine that, your own folks thinking that about you when you're five years old. So that's why I don't broadcast that little nugget of information around."
"I guess I can understand that," DeSoto conceded slowly, mulling it over. "So, you don't want to do this contest?"
The sigh came from Johnny this time as he sat up and drew his legs up under him. "I didn't say that, I just don't want everyone and their brother to know that, that bit of knowledge, that's all."
"Right, I think we can keep that under wraps, no reason for that to get out. I guess the next step will be to see if the rest of the guys from our shift want us to represent them, and then see if the fellas on B and C shift will also. It sounded like Marco was fishing to see if we wanted to do it."
"Sure, whatever, let them decide it." His answer seemed to be perfectly timed, as the unmistakable thumping of footsteps heralded the approach of at least two of their crewmates. Chet burst through the door, followed closely by Mike and Marco.
"So…you guys read about the contest, right?" Chet queried anxiously.
Gage regarded him placidly, the corners of his mouth twitching. "What contest would that be, Chester B?"
"Gage," he growled. Marco stepped in quickly, bumping the other lineman with his shoulder.
"The three of us agree that you two should represent our shift, the whole station actually, in the, uh, what are they calling this thing?" Lopez asked.
"It's a "navigational know your county" kind of thing, based on an idea they had over there in the UK," Mike supplied.
"And contrary to what comes out of Chet's mouth, we think you guys will be the best team from our station," Marco hastily interjected as Kelly started to open his mouth. "Johnny seems to know all the streets pretty well."
"Better than me," Stoker added with a sly grin.
Johnny let a slow grin build up as he looked around at the men. "So…..you guys want us to be the team from Station 51 in this so called see who can navigate the streets of LA the fastest? And what do you get out of it if we win?"
Chet shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "There's a trophy for the station that wins, plus, you know, bragging rights until the next competition."
"If there is another one," Captain Stanley said, coming to a halt beside the group clustered around the seated men. "Remember, this is just a trial run to see how it goes. Plus, there's going to be a drawing within the station to determine which paramedic team represents the station."
He was interrupted by an outraged snort from Chet, who had seemingly forgotten their support of the Gage/DeSoto team only minutes before. "How come only the paramedics get to enter this thing? What if Stoker and I wanted to join in?"
Marco made a noise similar to the one just uttered and slapped his chest. "Fat chance, buddy. I'm the senior lineman; I would be the one to partner with Mike here!"
"No way, guys, we all agreed that OUR paramedics would be the best choice for 51s…" Mike jumped into the fray with both feet, but his voice remained calm.
"Listen twits, it's a moot point. It's another caveat of this trial run; this time around only the medic or rescue teams will be eligible. We'll get some more information on this thing within the next couple of days." Stanley's equally level but authoritative comments effectively silenced the squabbling.
"Chet's hoping when you guys win you'll treat us to pizza and beer," Marco added as a parting shot, quickly tacking on a "after the shift is over of course" when Stanley shot him a funny look.
"There won't be any money left after Gage pays off his speeding tickets; Roy, you'd better not let him drive!" Chet stated glumly.
"Automatic disqualification, Kelly, if that happens. All laws have to be followed," the captain clarified.
The discussion was halted by the sound of the bay door going up, and the rumble of the engine backing up the drive. Captain Stanley waved a dismissive hand and strolled off to meet the late returning "B" shift.
"Well, looks like it's time to get to work," Roy stated, getting to his feet and trailing after the engine crew. "The squad is back, too."
John dropped his feet to the floor and followed at a slower pace, shaking his head in disbelief. "And they think I'm a nut…"
TBC