Preface: I expect people to hand me constructive criticism on this work because I know that it's not perfect, and I welcome any suggestions to help me improve my writing. However, please be respectful and helpful to me while reviewing. If you don't like something about it, please give me concrete details about why it doesn't work, and what I might do to make it work. Also it wouldn't hurt to give me concrete details about why something IS working. "It sucks" or "I like it" reviews don't help me in the least bit.
Also, if you come across typos, PLEASE NOTIFY ME! I try really hard to catch them, but no one is perfect.
And also, I try to do as much research as I can so my story has verisimilitude (thruthiness), but I am neither a doctor nor a paramedic, so if I say something stupid or wrong, please tell me in a nice way.
Thanks!
This story could be considered AU, but I'll try my best to keep it in the bounds of the original work.
CHAPTER ONE!
Carson, California
1975
THE alarm sounded, reverberating off every single wall and startling the firemen out of their pre-lunchtime conversation.
"Station 51," the monotone voice of the County Fire dispatcher droned through the speaker. "Apartment Fire. 590 West 228th—cross street: Figueroa. Time out: 13:55."
The Captain was on the return call almost immediately, scribbling down the information on his pad as he responded to dispatch. "LA, Squad 51—KMG365." He quickly hung the radio back up and joined the rest of the firemen as they scrambled away from their ready plates and to the engine.
Johnny Gage was inwardly grateful for the call as he jogged over with the others. Anything to delay Chet Kelly's questionable cooking (and antics) for another hour or so. Looking back to his partner, Roy DeSoto, Johnny could see that he wasn't the only person happy to get away from eating. They both smirked vaguely at each other, making their way to the paramedic squad truck. Swiftly they hopped in.
"We were lucky this time," Johnny said while placing his helmet on his head.
Roy started the engine and said with a snort, "Maybe. But you know Chet's gonna want to force us to try it the second we get back." He turned the siren on and pulled out of the station alongside the fire-engine.
"What exactly was Chet cooking anyways?" Johnny asked, making a face.
"Chili...I think?" Roy shrugged and they exchanged a dubious sideways glance.
"Ugh...not again..." Johnny mumbled to himself before falling silent for the rest of the drive. Along the way, dispatch railed off a few more stations getting called to the same scene. The numerous, scratchy alarms of different tones denoted just how serious the call was.
Roy shook his head. "Sounds like a big one..."
The apartment complex sat right at the intersection of Figueroa and 228th Street, the front half of it roiling with smoke and flames. As usual, there were many on-lookers clogging up the scene and they all had to dash out of the way just so the fire engine and rescue squad could park.
Johnny hopped out of the truck just as soon as Roy had secured the parking brake. He rushed to get equipment, but halted in the middle of his actions the moment he noticed a hysterical young woman running towards him.
"Dios mío!" she shouted, grabbing hold of the sleeve of Johnny's half-put-on fire-jacket. "Señor! Señor! Mi novio!"
He slightly shook his head at her with trepidation over his limited knowledge of Spanish. "Um—yo no sé...mucho español..." he drawled the best as he could, hoping that was right and that she understood. Then he looked around for the only person who could help him.
While Captain Stanley was asking the captain from Engine 99 about how many people were successfully evacuated, the men of Engine 51 were busy pulling out the hose. Johnny called out to one of them. "Marco! I need your help!"
Marco Lopez—the only fireman on the whole team that could speak decent Spanish—looked up from his duties.
"What is it?" he shouted over at Johnny.
"This woman! I don't think she speaks any English! She's trying to tell me something!" Johnny looked back to the woman, who was now crying and still clinging to his jacket. Marco left the others and jogged up to them.
"Señorita? Qué pasa?" Marco asked her.
Johnny watched the poor woman in worry as Roy came up beside him already clad in his fire-jacket and oxygen tank.
"What's going on?" Roy queried.
"I just asked her that," Marco returned, trying to steady the woman as she became more and more hysterical.
"Mi novio," she cried. "Está allí!" Frantically she pointed to a fourth-floor window through which smoke billowed out. Marco looked up at it in horror.
"Is someone up there, Marco?" Roy asked bluntly.
He nodded. "Her boyfriend."
"We better tell the captain," Johnny said as he quickly finished putting on his jacket and grabbed his tank.
Together, he and Roy trotted over to the captain.
"I'm pretty sure everyone was evacuated in time," a balding man with large glasses and a tweed suit, probably the apartment's landlord, was telling Captain Stanley and the captain from 99.
"That's a negative, Captain!" Johnny interrupted urgently.
Captain Stanley looked to the two paramedics, his thick dark eyebrows knitting together in a concerned frown.
"That young lady over there told us her boyfriend is trapped on the fourth floor," Johnny continued.
"Oh no!" blurted the tweed-suited landlord, looking suddenly pasty at realising the fact that all of his tenants had not been evacuated.
"Don't worry, Mr. Channing," Captain Stanley reassured the man. "We'll get him out." The captain then took a moment to survey the burning apartment building. The men from 99 and the men from 10 already had their hoses on it and were working on the very front of the building where the fire was most out of hand.
"Is there any entrance around the side of the building that my men could use to reach the fourth floor?" Captain Stanley asked Mr. Channing as he continued to squint at the scene.
"Oh! There is a stairwell over there that opens to the ground floor." The landlord pointed to the southern face of the complex.
Captain Stanley looked to Johnny and Roy. "Take that stairwell up, boys."
"All right, Cap," Johnny responded, eager to be on his way.
"Kelly, accompany Gage and DeSoto with the hose," the captain ordered the short, moustached Chet Kelly, cook of the infamous chili that awaited them all back at the station. Chet nodded and joined Johnny and Roy as they made way for stairwell door. Before entering, they tied a line to one another so they wouldn't get separated inside, and then they put on their air masks.
Thankfully, the stairwell had not yet been engulfed with smoke. It wasn't until the three of them reached the fourth floor and opened a door into the hallway that a mass of it finally reached them. It hung languidly all around them like a stagnate cloud. Not that much further ahead, the sound of fire cracking could be heard.
"Do you guys know where the person you're looking for is?" Chet asked uncertainly.
Johnny concentrated hard as they inched on down the hall, trying to remember exactly where the young Hispanic woman had pointed. "I'm pretty sure it was the second window on the left hand side of the southern face."
"You're pretty sure, Gage?" Chet went on in exasperation.
"Pretty sure, all right!"
"If you're right, Johnny," Roy said, turning around to face him. "It should be a few doors ahead."
They inched further a few more feet. The air became stiflingly hot of a sudden and the sound of burning wood increased the closer they got towards the end of the hall.
"Where is that sound coming from?" Roy asked.
It was certain, now that they had made it this far, that the sound wasn't coming from ahead of them. Above us, Johnny suddenly thought, but before he could say anything, there was a terrible cracking sound. A large chunk of the ceiling caved in, flaming beams falling on the line that secured him and Roy together. The rope brought Johnny smashing to the ground.
In a split second his mind raced to the worst case scenario: that Roy had been caught beneath the debris. He tried to get up, but the rope was holding him down.
"Roy!" Chet called out from behind him, lifting off his mask for the sound to travel better. "Roy, are you all right?"
"Yes!" came the muffled reply. "The rope is caught under the debris and it's holding me down though. Is Johnny okay?"
Chet coughed and looked to Johnny. "You all right, Gage?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"He's fine!"
Johnny pulled down his face mask. "Roy!" he hollered. "I'm going to cut the rope on my end so I can get up."
"Okay! Me too!"
Out of his pocket, Johnny grabbed a Swiss army knife. With his gloves on he fumbled with it until it finally popped open. He severed the rope with urgency.
Once he was up and out of the way, Chet turned on his fire hose and sprayed the debris until it was wet enough to walk over. They met Roy on the other side. Thankfully no flames had spread to their level yet.
"That was a close call," Chet muttered and then coughed. "How much further?"
"Two doors down," Roy said, turning to look at both of them. "Not far at all. We've got to hurry though. I think we have fire above us and below us."
"Great," Chet said. "We're the meat in a burning sandwich then."
Roy shook his head, smiling at Chet's comment out of the pure craziness of it all. He then took another step down the hall and towards the second door to the end.
That was when another terrible crack sounded as the floor suddenly gave way several feet from where Roy stood. The flames and hot air that burst up from it sent him tripping backwards into Johnny, and Johnny into Chet. They landed back near the pile of debris, struggling to get up and off one and other. As soon as Johnny and Roy got off of Chet, he brandished the fire hose and began attacking the area where the floor had given way. Standing straight, Johnny realised that Roy was having a hard time getting up himself, grimacing in some sort of pain.
"What's the matter, Roy?" Johnny asked.
"My leg," he replied. "It hurts!"
Johnny looked over to Chet, who was still hosing the hole in the floor. "Get Roy out of here now," he ordered. "He's injured. I'll go get the trapped man myself."
"Alone, Gage?" Chet protested in outrage as Johnny inched carefully around him on the part of the floor that was still holding stable. "Are you nuts?"
"Just do it!"
And Johnny's sudden anger shut Chet up. He turned the hose off, hauled the injured Roy over his shoulders as commanded and dragged him back down the hall along with the fire hose.
"And tell Captain Stanley to send the Snorkel and a Stokes to the window!" Johnny called after him.
"Gotcha!" Chet returned as he, Roy, and the hose disappeared down the stairwell and out of sight.