Living
by
Westel
"Hold him, Johnny!" yelled the blond paramedic as he attempted to insert an IV into the thrashing patient.
"What do you think I'm trying to do, Roy!?" grunted Johnny Gage as he grappled with the teenager, who was freaking out on one of the hot, new psychedelic drugs so prevalent now. Gage was no stranger to manhandling victims who were out of their heads with pain or delirium, but this kid's strength was stoked by his own mind-generated adrenaline, and the wiry paramedic was getting the worst of it in their struggle.
Roy jerked back suddenly, holding the IV needle aloft, as the flailing hippie abruptly vomited all over himself and everything else in close proximity. He swore softly, darting a fleeting look at Gage, who was using his body to hold the young man down. The youth quieted some, and Roy managed to insert the IV and stabilize the arm. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Vince jogging toward them, the throbbing music of the concert behind them carrying the police officer along like a body surfer.
"Need a hand?" the officer asked, taking in the scene in a moment.
"Can you get the backboard? I need to immobilize this guy."
"Sure," the officer replied and turned away, grateful for a chance to smile without the two paramedics seeing it. What a mess the firefighters had on their hands that night! Early morning rains had left the baseball field a quagmire, and now tonight with 15,000 rock fans swarming the place, the quagmire had turned into a swamp. Several paramedic units and ambulance crews had been kept hopping most of the evening with minor accidents, faintings, and now this. Vince was seeing more and more incidences of drug overdoses in his work, and they were never pretty.
As the two paramedics strapped the semi-conscious youth onto the backboard, the sound of an ambulance siren could be heard approaching. Soon the white vehicle rolled into the compound and an attendant opened the doors.
"Rampart, this is Squad 51."
"Go ahead, 51," came the reply, the voice Joe Early's.
"The patient is restrained but quiet, Rampart," Roy reported. "Blood pressure is 130/90, respirations 22. Ambulance is on-scene."
"10-4, 51. Continue to monitor vitals during transport."
"10-4, Rampart."
Roy disconnected the antenna from the biophone and closed it up, checking to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind.
"Roy?"
DeSoto glanced at Johnny, who stood looking more like an inhabitant of a pig sty than a human being at the moment, mud and vomit coating his thighs, the front of his shirt, and his right arm. Somehow he fought off the urge to grin, knowing the humor of the situation would be lost on his partner.
"Uh, right. I'll ride with the victim, Johnny."
"Thanks."
DeSoto allowed a grin to grow as he climbed into the ambulance. He'd been spattered and mud-smeared, too, but – true to Johnny's proclivities – Johnny was the nastier of the two. Gage would get a chance to clean himself off a bit before taking the squad to Rampart, at least. Roy checked the IV on the patient and took another blood pressure reading. Most of whatever the kid had been tripping on must have been thrown up a few minutes ago, because the young man's vitals continued to improve, and he was resting quietly. Kids! He shook his head, frowning, and thought of his own two children. What would his world be like when they reached their mid-teens and no longer thought the old man was the greatest thing going? He sighed, and reminded himself that it was no use worrying about it right now. He tried to think of more pleasant things, like the A-shift picnic, which was coming up in a couple of weeks. Based on past experience, it should be a fun, relaxing way to spend the day with his family. The key to his children's future was to spend as much time as he could with them, and that he knew how to do.
ooOOoo
Johnny stood at the nurse's station, talking to Dix and waving an empty coffee cup. He was dressed in scrubs, his soiled uniform tied in a soggy bundle at this feet. His expression was serious.
"Hey, Roy," he grunted, saluting his buddy with the cup. Gage didn't look too badly now that he had doffed the cruddy clothes but, judging by the scowl on his face, his sense of humor had temporarily disappeared. Admittedly, it had been a long day for them both. Judging by Dix's expression, it had been a rough one for her, too. Whether it was because of all the patients they had brought in that day, or because of Johnny's latest tirade against the burgeoning drug culture among the youth, was up for grabs.
"What's he been telling you this time, Dix?" Roy asked, taking the hazardous cup out of Gage's hand and placing it on the counter.
"I've been tellin' her about our last run, Roy. It's just these kids today. . ."
"Nurse McCall, report to treatment room three. Nurse McCall. . ."
Dix smiled at the two paramedics. "Oops – gotta run, Johnny. I'll catch you later, okay?" Roy could have sworn he saw a glint of relief in the ER nurse's eyes as she left.
"C'mon, partner. Let's get back to the station so you can get out of those scrubs." Roy put on a show of sniffing the air and wrinkling up his nose. "And into a shower."
"Oh, ha-ha, Roy," the dark-haired firefighter grumbled, and preceded Roy out the doors of Rampart General. Roy grinned, knowing that sooner or later Johnny would get his smile back, marveling again at his partner's ability to bounce, and followed him out to the squad
ooOOoo
The ride back was quiet. Roy stole a look at Gage, wondering what was going on inside that shaggy head of his. Johnny's mouth twitched. It was coming out any minute, Roy decided.
"I just don't understand it, Roy." Gage held his hand out in appeal to his partner, then plopped it back into his lap in frustration.
Roy waited for more, and he continued to wait. He turned his head a couple of times to look at his friend, who had clammed up just as quickly as he had blurted out that last statement. Gage was for the moment looking out the side window, his chin propped on his hand, his thoughts obviously a million miles away.
"What don't you understand?" Roy asked. Johnny still stared out the window. Roy reached over and tapped him on the shoulder, causing the young man to jump in surprise.
"Huh? What?"
Roy sighed. "What is it you don't understand?"
"Oh. Yeah." Johnny twisted in the seat, facing his partner. "I don't understand why kids think they have to take some drug to make life better. Why do they feel they have to do that?"
Roy shot a look at his partner. "Maybe they think it's the only way to get through life," he replied, playing devil's advocate. He wanted to see where Johnny was going to take this.
"But if you go through life just to get through it. . ." Gage struggled for the right words. "You miss it, Roy."
Roy turned the squad into the station driveway and backed in, ending their conversation for the time being. Gage headed for the locker room as Roy secured the vehicle and was in the shower by the time Roy came into the room to change his soiled uniform. Several short runs and a couple of days off delayed their taking the subject up at another time and, as John never brought it up again, he soon forgot about it.
ooOOoo
"Mm-mm-mmm" Gage stopped in the kitchen door of the DeSoto home and breathed in the smell of slow-cooked baked beans – Joanne's secret recipe – and found his mouth watering. "Joanne, you'd better let me take that along with me; I'll take real good care of it." John reached for the steaming dish Joanne had set on the table.
Joanne reached out and playfully slapped his hands away. "None of that, John Gage. That dish goes along with the rest of the food - with me You'll wait your turn with everyone else, and get your serving along with all the other food that'll be there. It'll be worth the wait, you'll see."
"It'll be cold," Gage muttered, not quite low enough for Joanne to miss. She smiled at her husband's partner and pointed to a box of condiments and utensils they were going to take along. "Make yourself useful and take that out to the car, will you? Roy!" she called out the back door.
"All right, just a sec!" came Roy's disembodied voice from the back yard. He soon came in, brushing grass clippings off his pants first, and greeted his friend and partner. Joanne disappeared out the front door with the food, the screen door slamming behind her. The kids could be heard calling to her from the front yard.
"I see she's put you to work, too," Roy grimaced, the twinkle in his eyes softening the complaint.
Gage leaned over and whispered conspiringly: "It's worth it." He continued in a louder voice as he picked up the box of condiments to carry out to the car, "You got all your gear?"
"Yeah, I put it in the back of your Land Rover while you were in the kitchen inhaling Joanne's beans."
Gage smirked a 'you are too funny for words.' "Go ahead and make fun. You'll wish you had some of those beans while we're eating trail mix tonight."
"Don't remind me," Roy said, chagrined. Somehow Johnny had talked him into taking a wilderness trail with him, where no fires were allowed, and where they ate only what they packed in. He knew he'd enjoy it, but right now a cold supper with no coffee didn't exactly appeal to him. He'd concentrate on the A-shift picnic, instead. They'd been looking forward to this for weeks, and he wasn't going to let anything spoil the day.
ooOOoo
"Hey, man, what d'you wanna go and waste all that good acid on blue shirts for?" drawled the beaded, bearded young man to his mirror image as they leaned against the fence of the park.
"It's my first batch, you idiot. You wanna try it before you know what it'll do?" The second youth shoved a pill-shaped object at his companion, who shrank away, then shrugged.
"I'm not that stupid, Ronnie. You don't even know if you used the right ingredients, much less the right amounts."
"My old lady told me her friend used the recipe and it turned out fine. Why shouldn't mine be just as good?" Ronnie grinned stupidly, the marijuana taking effect in his system. "Hell, I even added some speed for an extra zap – and something else." He leaned over and nudged his pot-smoking friend. "Strychnine."
"You what? What'd you do that for? Man, that stuff'll kill ya!"
"Only in high doses."
"Well, how much is high?"
Ronnie ignored the question. "It's supposed to put a real edge on your trip, man. Make it zoom and crackle and flash!!" He soared his hands out like planes at each descriptive, looking like he would take off himself any minute.
"So, you wanna give the blue shirts a trip."
"Yeah, they live such mundane lives…"
"Mundane! Ronnie, they put out fires and rescue people, for Pete's sake!"
Ronnie scowled, his lower lip protruding into a massive pout. "They're still blue shirts. Them, and cops – they're all pigs!"
Ronnie's friend merely nodded, then resumed watching the people at the picnic across the park, under the trees. "So how are you goin' to give it to 'em?"
"Easy. It's a free park." Ronnie took two pills and crushed one in each hand. "We just walk through and, when no one's lookin'…"
"Trip time! I wish I was going to be there to see it!"
"Well, you can't!" leered Ronnie. "Unless you wanna do somethin' stupid like follow 'em."
"Not me!" said the companion, holding up both hands. "I don't want cops comin' after me 'cause I messed with some firemen's heads!"
Ronnie snorted, and walked toward the picnic, working the powder into a finer dust in his hands. His nameless buddy followed a few steps behind.
ooOOoo
John Gage picked up his plate off the table and eyed it suspiciously. There was inherent danger in leaving food out on a table under trees, even if one had to in order to pull a cold beer out of the cooler. It looked all right, so he juggled the full plate along with a napkin, plastic utensils, and the slippery can of beer as he made his way cautiously to the bull pen at the softball field nearby. Roy soon followed, managing his own lunch, having left it temporarily to tend to his daughter's stubbed toe (it seemed only Daddy the paramedic was qualified to attend to it).
"We're gettin' murdered," mumbled Gage around his food, having packed too much in, as usual.
"How many platefuls does this make?" quipped DeSoto, amazed at his friend's unquenchable appetite. The only time he had seen Johnny not hungry, now that he thought about it, was on a boat.
Gage held up three fingers, then washed down a mouthful with a swallow of his beer. "But I hardly touched the second one because a bird baptized it."
"Johnny, you're up!" yelled Hank Stanley, erstwhile captain of the team.
"Watch my plate," Johnny called back as he went up to bat, eyeing Chet suspiciously.
Roy looked at Chet, who held up both hands, defending himself: "Hey, I ain't lookin' for leftovers," the Irishman explained, and resumed watching the game. Roy chewed and watched, too, as the first pitch turned out to be a foul ball. Johnny knocked his bat against his shoes like a pro.
"All he needs is a wad in his cheek," snickered Chet, as Gage got ready for the next pitch.
The other team's pitcher soared a flyer across the plate and Johnny's bat connected with a loud crack. The ball flew up, up and, to Roy's amazement and delight, over the fence! He jumped up, yelling, as did Chet, Marco and the others, their sudden movement toppling the bench – and Johnny's lunch – into the sand. Johnny took off around the bases as his teammates shouted and cheered him on, raising his arms in victory as he landed on home.
"Way to go, Johnny!" Roy pounded Gage's shoulder as he came back into the dugout, grinning widely.
"Whatta slam!" enthused Chet. Marco shook his hand, grinning his approval.
"Thanks guys," replied the happy paramedic, his eyes falling on the upended plate and beer, lying in the sand.
"Oh, uh… Sorry, Johnny," Roy apologized. "We got a little excited when you hit that home run."
Gage shrugged good-naturedly, the euphoria of the moment quenching his appetite. "That's okay, Roy. I'm not very hungry now, anyway."
"Fame gone to your head, Gage?"
"Shut up, Chet!"
Roy grinned and sat back down, finishing off his dinner before he had to go to bat. He didn't want the same thing to happen to his food.
ooOOoo
The sun set lazily in an azure sky, sending long shadows over the hills in the distance. Roy and John stopped for a few moments on their ascent, watching the old star go down beyond the horizon before continuing on the ancient trail. Gage breathed deeply, soaking in the combined smells of balsam, pine, and just a hint of eucalyptus, then left the clearing, entering the woods with his partner. He smiled to himself, recalling the home run and the excitement of his friends as he crossed the plate. Just three hours ago, for a few brief moments, he had been the hero of the day. But right after that Chet had stepped in the spilled food and epithets followed, reducing Gage to Pigeon-status again. No matter. It had been a great day, and the rest of the weekend was going to be even better. He had found this trail last fall and was anxious to show it to Roy who, though grumpy when away from Joanne's cooking for too long, appreciated a good walk in a great setting.
Even now, Roy was looking up between the trees, gazing at the stars which appeared as daylight fled. John moved beside him, also admiring the view. Roy glanced at him, then back at the stars. John followed his friend's gaze; no words were necessary. They continued on.
ooOOoo
Roy sat across from Johnny, amazed at how clearly he could see his partner in the starlight. There was no moon that night, but without a campfire, his eyes had adjusted so well he could make out the other paramedic's features quite plainly, and had told him so. They sat in companionable silence, having eaten some trail mix after they had set up their simple camp. At least, Johnny had eaten. Roy was surprised he didn't have much appetite after that long walk, but it was probably because he had eaten such a large – and very delicious – lunch. He had kidded Johnny about eating three platefuls, but he knew in reality John's first plate of food had gotten cold when he was distracted by Chris and Jen and their new Frisbee. Joanne had carefully fixed another plate for him, but one of the local birds decided to use it as an outhouse, Johnny having gotten only one or two bites from it, and the third – well, that's baseball – you win some, you lose some. Roy, on the other hand, was embarrassed at the amount of food he had consumed. Must have been the exercise and being outdoors, or something.
Gage sat with his eyes closed, sorting out the various scents of the night, listening to the small sounds of night creatures as they stirred in the undercover of the woods. His stomach grumbled loudly and his partner chuckled.
"I heard that," Roy said.
"I ate too fast."
"So what else is new?"
"Aw, Roy, I was hungry. I didn't have hardly anything to eat today," Gage protested mildly, too comfortable and content to put up much argument.
"Like I said, what else is new?"
Johnny glared in mock anger at his friend. "Oh, right, Roy, like you didn't pack it away today at the picnic."
"Only one plateful," Roy protested.
"Yeah, but what a plateful!" countered Gage, warming up. It wasn't the norm for him to have Roy on the run, but on the rare occasion he did, John made the most of the situation.
"Well, we had to wait so darn long before they served…" Roy's voice faltered and stopped in mid-sentence. Johnny squinted to see his face. Roy was looking past the campsite, out into the woods. Johnny turned quickly, half-expecting to see a raccoon or worse, a bear, but there was nothing there. He look back at his friend. "Roy?"
Roy had enjoyed this evening – everything about it. The slow-paced walk, the absence of cars, buses and other man-made noises; the relative silence of his comrade-in-arms; their mutual appreciation of the beauty around them. Usually all this would have served to relax him, but for over an hour he had found himself tensing up, his heart racing, as if the klaxons had gone off in the middle of the night and they were dashing for the squad. Taking deep breaths didn't help much; in fact, it had gotten progressively worse as the night deepened. Must have been something he ate today, maybe something that had sat out in the sun too long…
He had carried on conversation with Johnny, trying to ignore the growing restlessness in his body, unable to bring himself to eat the trail mix Gage had shared with him. His unusually sharp night-vision became more acute, the lines of the tree trunks and pin-points of the stars almost painful in their clarity. As time went on, he began to notice things in his peripheral sight, as if there were something lurking in the shade of the deep woods. Just now he thought he saw furtive movement of some kind behind his partner, shimmering like water in fleeting moonlight. As he stared and blinked, however, it disappeared.
"Roy!"
"Huh?"
"Man, where were you for a minute?"
"Oh, I… I, uh…thought I saw something."
Gage grinned, looking back over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I thought you saw something, too. Don't scare me like that, okay?"
Roy yawned widely. "I think I'm gonna turn in, Johnny."
"I am too, in a little while." Gage leaned back against his backpack, clasping his hands behind his head and looking up at the star-peppered sky.
Both men were quiet as the night crept by.
ooOOoo
Roy tossed and turned in his bedroll, the unease he felt gradually tightening into a ball of pain in his gut. He sat up, throwing back the blanket, and rose to his knees, trying to ease the ache he felt in his midsection. The sudden movement caused a wave of dizziness; putting out a hand to steady himself, he noticed the fabric of the blanket felt weird to the touch. In the strange starlight, he detected movement again, only this time, it was the blanket, squirming suddenly under his fingers…
He jerked his hand back and gave an involuntary grunt of surprise. John sat up in his blankets.
"Roy? What is it?"
"Nami – mnan," slurred DeSoto, pointing at the blanket. He was shocked at his abrupt inability to say a simple word like animal.
Gage came over and rifled through his partner's bedroll, finding nothing.
"It was probably a mouse, Roy," he soothed, surprised at the alarm on his friend's face. Roy had never been particularly afraid of little woodland creatures on previous trips, but something had certainly upset him now, John surmised, watching his friend. Roy remained motionless, rocked back on his heels, looking at his upturned palm, the fingers splayed…
As Roy watched, fascinated, his fingers and hand began to undulate, like a reflection in a rippled lake. The earth started to rock beneath him, and the landscape turned purple. He felt his heart tumbling wildly in his breast, like a wounded bird. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Johnny calling his name, but it was drowning in a dull roar that was building toward an uncanny crescendo, crashing in his head like cymbals.
Roy clapped his hands over his ears and whimpered, childlike, his eyes tightly shut. Gage, thoroughly alarmed now, put a hand out…
Razor-sharp talons ripped into Roy's shoulder. He couldn't draw breath fast enough or deep enough to scream – he could only moan with pain. The talons gripped tighter, their bite going deeper. Opening his eyes, Roy stared at them buried deep in the muscles of his shoulder, traced them back to the appendage that merged sickeningly into his partner's arm. Just beyond that was Gage's face, and as he stared into the paramedic's eyes, they morphed into black, fathomless maws and swallowed him whole. It was only then that he found breath enough to scream.
John felt Roy jerk beneath his touch, saw pain written on his friend's face. Shocked at this sudden development, he tightened his grip. Roy gasped in apparent agony and opened his eyes, taking in John's hand and arm and focusing finally on his face. Roy's eyes widened in terror, he opened his mouth…
And screamed.
"Roy, stop it!"
Roy had scrambled back, away from his partner, and risen to his feet, swaying drunkenly, staggering, looking around in horror. His breaths were drawn in awful, wrenching wheezes, almost sobs, as he looked for an escape that was not there. His world had exploded into bizarre colors and sounds, senses which did not correlate with anything remotely familiar to him. The touch of his feet on the ground brought the perception of intense, pulsing light splashing across his vision. Movement of any kind in his body instigated loud, disembodied screams in his hearing. Whenever he tried to focus his sight on something, a foul, noisome odor permeated his mind. His skin crawled; his head felt like large worms were writhing in his skull… Roy's neurological system was completely and totally overwhelmed. All of his sensory input was cross-wired, and his brain was incapable of handling it.
John saw what was happening, at last. It really only took a few seconds for him to see that Roy was on some kind of awful trip, but it had seemed like hours. He had to subdue his friend somehow, before he ran headlong into a tree or off the precipice only a few hundred yards away from their camp. He stood slowly, noting the immediate defensive reaction in Roy, gauging the situation.
Roy saw a creature rise from the dirt, pinning its demonic eyes on him, picking him out for prey. He could hear its breath rising in its throat, a feral growl sending a warning of imminent attack. Somewhere in his tortured thoughts, Roy knew he had to get away. He turned and fled with the adrenaline-fueled flight of a gazelle.
Straight toward the ravine.
Johnny bolted after him, running quietly, not calling out, knowing this would only increase Roy's panic. He went down once, tripping over something, he didn't know or care what. He was up again immediately, running as if his life depended on it – as if Roy's life depended on it. If Roy went over that precipice…
Johnny's own adrenal system kicked in and he felt himself picking up speed, closing at last on his fleeing partner. The ravine loomed just ahead. He planted his foot on a rock that Roy had skirted and vaulted himself over it, landing upon Roy in a flying tackle. They both tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over. Gage felt a bone in his wrist give way, but there was no pain.
He lay there a moment before realizing DeSoto lay under him, unmoving. The sound of gravel and small rocks bouncing off larger ones as they fell over the precipice bore stark testimony of just how close Roy had come to going over himself. Not to mention his partner.
Gage moved as carefully as he could, awkward with the broken wrist which still didn't hurt, but was swelling rapidly. He knelt at Roy's side, training coming to bear now, and ran his good hand over his friend's limbs, neck and sternum, feeling for breaks. Except for a few abrasions, Roy had seemingly suffered less damage from the tackle than the other paramedic. No sign of a head injury, thank God. There still could be head trauma, but Gage wasn't in much of a position to assess that considering the drug-induced state Roy was in.
The dark-haired man's handsome face settled into a scowl. When Roy woke up, how was he going to handle him, one-armed as he was now? Gingerly, he moved behind his partner and slipped his elbows under Roy's arms, placing his good arm across his friend's chest. Lifting from the knees, he straightened up and backed toward the camp, watching for fallen limbs and rocks which could provoke a fall. After what seemed like an eternity and panting with the exertion, he reached the camp and maneuvered Roy back onto his blankets. Roy began to stir and moan softly, his eyes moving erratically under the lids, his hands twitching. Knowing he had to work fast, Gage rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a nature magazine and a bandana. Placing the damaged wrist on his lap, he braced his hand with his knees and wrapped the magazine around the wrist, letting it extend down to his first knuckles. He secured it as tightly as he could with the bandana, using his teeth when necessary. Though now painful, he was able to flex his fingers, and he nodded in satisfaction that he had good circulation.
The night was suddenly pierced with a wail that, if Johnny hadn't known it came from his friend, he would have sworn spewed out of some creature from one of Chet's favorite horror films.
Roy was throwing the covers off again, grappling with them like they were something alive. His face was contorted with panic and horror, and he threw the blankets from him only to grasp them back again. Johnny stared for a moment in unbelief at what he was seeing in his normally quiet, pragmatic, unflappable partner before shaking himself mentally. He must gain the upper hand with Roy, and immediately, before he hurt himself.
Gage moved back to the outer perimeter of the camp, hoping the darkness would allow him to get behind Roy without his being seen. There was a macabre fascination in watching what in older days would have been called a possession of evil spirits. This was Roy's body, but the person occupying it was not Roy, at least not a Roy who could respond the way he normally would. Does Roy know what's happening to him? Gage wondered. Somewhere in all that jumble in his mind, does he know?
Roy was standing now, though still off-balance, as if he were walking the decks of a tall ship on the open seas, jerking his head from side to side and raising his arms as if to ward off an unseen assailant. Whimpers and moans intermixed as Roy battled with the attacks of his own senses.
Now's my chance, Gage realized, knowing he'd better make his move while Roy's back was to him. He decided against the careful approach, recognizing that Roy's sense of hearing was probably heightened, and made a dash at his friend, trying to reach him before he could turn around.
He almost made it.
Roy pivoted at the last moment, following through with a round-house that caught Johnny up against the side of his head, leaving him sitting awkwardly on the ground, his ears ringing. Looking up, he saw that the blond paramedic was tensing for an attack. He tasted blood, spat it out, and flung himself at Roy again, aiming for the knees. They both went down.
DeSoto fought like fury itself, hitting, clawing, pinching, and suddenly Gage found his upper arm caught in the ferocious grip of human teeth. Yelling in pain, the paramedic reacted in self-defense and plowed his fist into his friend's face, sending Roy sprawling, blood welling from a split lip.
Roy grew unexpectedly quiet and still. He crouched silently on all fours, poised as if to spring, the whites of his eyes glinting in the starlight. John could hear him breathing – too fast – and wondered in detachment what his friend's heart rate was at that moment…
Then Roy leaped on him - and for the first time since he'd known him, Johnny was afraid of Roy DeSoto.