"I Never Said That"
By Ross7
Chapter One
Following an afternoon of nonstop runs, firefighter/paramedics, John Gage and Roy DeSoto, finally returned to their quarters.
The two exhausted men exited their rescue squad and dragged themselves into L.A. County Fire Station 51's dayroom.
"Did I get any phone calls?" John wondered, as the weary pair made their way over to the coffeemaker, for a much-needed jolt of caffeine.
His crewmate, Chet Kelly, was standing in front of the stove, cooking a bubbling brew—of some unrecognizable sort—in a large, stainless steel kettle. He stopped, right in mid-stir. "As a matter of fact," the cook set his long-handled spoon down on the kitchen counter and crossed over to the closest phone, "some chick has been trying to get a hold of you for the past three hours." He ripped the top sheet off the little notepad, that was resting on the shelf beneath the telephone, and passed it to the paramedic. "She sure has a sexy voice…"
Gage ignored the message-taker's unsolicited remark and read the note. 'Call Margo at 873-4421 about some party Friday night. URGENT!' "Margo? I don't know any Marg—" he stopped talking and cringed, in sudden remembrance. "Oh. That Margo."
Kelly had gone back to his stirring. He stopped again and turned to stare at Gage. "She must be a real dog, huh."
"On the contrary," John corrected and crumpled the piece of paper up. "She's darn good lookin'! Sort of a cross between Ferrah Fawcett and Ann Margaret."
"Something must be wrong with her," Chet reasoned, "or you wouldn't have crumpled the note up."
"I promised Max Reynolds I'd work C-Shift over at 8's for him this weekend. So I can't go 'partying' Friday night." The paramedic paused to take a sip from the steaming cup his partner had passed to him.
The alarm sounded.
"Station 51…"
Kelly clicked their gas range's burner off and began heading for the garage.
Gage set his untouched coffee down on the kitchen table and tossed the crumpled note into the nearest wastebasket.
The two rescuers then turned around and started trotting back over to their recently vacated vehicle.
"…Construction accident," the dispatcher quickly continued. "…Two men trapped on a platform rig…1211 East Graham Avenue…One-two-one-one East Graham…Cross-streets: 7th and Washington Blvd…ambulances responding…Time out: 16:22."
"Station 51. KMG—365," Captain Hank Stanley calmly acknowledged. He replaced their call station's mic' and passed his paramedic team a copy of the address, before crossing the apparatus bay and climbing up into Big Red's cab.
Once out of the fire station, the rescue vehicles veered right and headed off down the street, with their warning lights flashing and their sirens wailing.
Station 51 arrived at 1211 East Graham Avenue in less than eight minutes. Both firetrucks screeched to a halt and their occupants bailed out onto the boarded up site of a fourteen-story building that was still under construction.
A mass of exposed steel girders towered up and up into a cloudless blue sky.
The firemen tilted their helmeted heads back and then stood there, staring up the building's steel-beamed skeleton.
A gentleman in a bright-orange hardhat came jogging up to greet them. "Am I glad to see you guys! Two of my men fell four floors and landed on a platform rig! We tried to raise the rig up to the top, but the cable's jammed! Can't get it to lower, either!"
"Grab some ropes, life-belts and a couple a' Stokes!" Stanley ordered.
His crew began gathering up the requested rescue gear from their engine's side compartments and the rear of the Squad.
Gage and DeSoto quickly donned some life-belts. The paramedics then pulled what equipment they figured they'd be needing from the side compartments of their rescue squad.
"Four floo-oors?" John repeated, as the pair came jogging up. "Has anybody seen any movement?"
The foreman frowned and gave his helmeted head a reluctant shake.
Gage and DeSoto exchanged grim glances and got some firmer grips on the handles of their heavy cases.
The foreman led the equipment-laden firemen over, and onto, one of the construction site's open-air elevators.
The safety gate was slid into place and the caged lift began to ascend.
"What caused these guys to fall, in the first place?" Hank wondered on the long ride up.
The site foreman shrugged. "Who knows? Everybody's quitting for the day. The men are in a hurry to get home. People get careless."
John Gage wasn't buying into any part of the foreman's spiel. The fireman's father had once worked the high steel.
Guys who walked the high girders couldn't afford to 'get careless'—no matter what time of day it was.
One workman falling was improbable enough, as it is. But two? And, both at the same time? Nahhh. Something had to have gone very, very wrong, in order for that to occur!
"We'll lower you two down from the top," Stanley proposed, as the lift proceeded past the floorless level the stuck platform rig was located on.
His paramedic team acknowledged his plan with a couple of quick nods, and kept their concerned gazes locked on the two non-moving fall victims.
At long last, the slow-moving lift ground to a halt.
Gage was the first fireman through the elevator's safety gate.
A brisk breeze was blowing across the construction site's uppermost staging platform.
There was a rather large crane mounted to the steel-girdered building's front left corner, and the wind was whistling through the trolley runway on its lowered jib arm.
John set his heavy equipment cases down and went trotting over to the very edge of the staging platform. The paramedic peered down at the ridiculously narrow walkway on the platform rig, dangling four floors below. There was no way they were gonna be able to treat those guys down there. He stepped back from the edge and turned to his Captain. "Cap, that walkway looks awfully narrow. How 'bout we bring 'em up here to work on 'em?"
The Captain took a couple of cautious steps toward the edge of the platform and glanced down. "I see what you mean. All right, Roy, you stay up here. Chet, you go down and help John."
"Right, Cap!" Kelly eagerly acknowledged.
Roy placed his equipment cases down on the staging platform. "I'll start setting things up," he optimistically informed his partner.
Gage nodded and began securing himself to one of the two lifelines.
DeSoto unbuckled his security-belt and handed it to Kelly.
Chet donned the belt and promptly secured himself to the other rope.
Stanley, Stoker and Lopez manned Gage's lifeline, first.
John pulled his leather gloves on. Upon noting his Captain's 'All set' nod, the paramedic crossed back over to the very edge of the staging platform and turned to face his friends. The fireman got a two-fisted grip on the rope and then quickly dropped to his knees.
Gradually, Hank and his men allowed the first rescuer's lifeline to play out.
Gage backed off the edge of the building and then disappeared from view.
The engine crew continued to lower their comrade. Suddenly, they felt two sharp tugs on the rope.
John's lifeline was secured and their energy was re-directed, toward lowering Chet.
Kelly quickly backed off of the staging platform and his helmeted head also vanished from sight.
TBC