A is for ….Animals?
Characters and show belong to Universal and Mark VII - just borrowing!
Crawlies, Venom, and Coils
"Not late..not late…not late," came the whispered mantra as the dark haired man shot through the opened back bay door of the fire station, flew up the passenger side of the red squad, and flung his partially opened gear bag in through the opened window. He slid to a skidding halt next to his new partner of several weeks, and sheepishly grabbed the proffered dress hat that was slyly extended to him. Jamming it on his head, he uneasily turned to face the captain.
"Nice of you to join us, Gage," Dick Hammer stated dryly, glaring at the newly certified paramedic. He stared at him for a moment, watching the slow blush crawl slowly up the young man's neck and tint the reddish, tanned skin of his cheeks. His lips turned up slightly at the corners as he also noted the unruly hair now squashed by the hat, the three days' worth of facial hair shadowing his lip and jaw, and the dried mud clinging to the hem of his pants and to the sides of his dusty black boots – clearly evidence of last shift's rescue. "And, Gage?"
"Uhh..yes sir?" The clearly flustered and embarrassed paramedic stammered, looking everywhere but at the man in charge.
"Come to work prepared to work, not looking like you just worked a landslide rescue and a three alarm fire to boot! Is that clear?"
"Yes sir! Won't happen again, sir!" Muttered snickers bounced around the half circle of men facing the captain; Hammer turned his head slightly to the side to hide the grin that kept threatening to overtake his face and ruin his hardnosed reputation with this brand new station. Thank God he would have a few more shifts to reel in Gage's impetuous ways and hopefully get him on an even, calm float before the permanent engine crew showed up for their new posts.
After going over the day's assignments and the latest announcements, Hammer dismissed his men to their duties and returned to his office to begin his never ending mountain of paperwork. Roy DeSoto, the senior paramedic of the pair, took the few steps necessary to bring him to the side compartment of their squad and unlocked the door. He paused and looked at his visibly vibrating partner, hands jammed in his front pockets, who had moved up behind him. He laid a stopping hand on his arm as the dark haired man pulled a hand free from his pocket and started reaching for the bio-phone.
"Gage, why don't you go clean up, and I'll check the supplies and take care of the radio check."
After a second of thought, John Gage nodded and held out a hand for Roy's hat, which Roy gladly handed off to him. Watching his hyper partner take off in the direction of the locker room, Roy smiled and began pulling the boxes out, wondering exactly what he gotten himself into asking the other man to be his partner.
Supplies checked and the radio check complete with Rampart Hospital, DeSoto crossed the bay and poked his head into the locker room. In the process of wiping shaving cream off his face, his younger counterpart looked over at him and grinned, cheekily flicking an imaginary speck of foam at him before grabbing his comb and dragging it through his black hair.
"I think Johnson just made a fresh pot of coffee; you want me to pour you a cup?"
"Nah, I think I'm on caffeine overload right now. Must have guzzled about eight cups of it on the way home, "Johnny replied, tossing his shaving kit into his open locker and grabbing up his blue uniform shirt slung carelessly over the bench. Picking up his newly shined boots with one hand and shrugging the shirt on over his white v necked t-shirt with the other hand, he dogged Roy's heels right into the lounge/kitchen area, poking his head into the fridge while Roy grabbed a clean mug and poured coffee.
Leaning back against the counter, Roy watched in amusement as John shook the milk carton, then proceeded to open it and drain it dry, gulping audibly. The two linemen sitting at the table, open newspapers in their hands, looked up and made oinking noises, before casually returning to their interrupted reading. Gage simply laughed, wiping the heel of his hand across his newly shaven skin, and tossed the empty carton into the trash. He bent over and yanked on his boots.
"What exactly were you doing on your three days off, Gage?" Roy asked curiously, thinking of how he had used his own much needed time - sleeping, yard work, and spending some well overdue quality time with his wife and children.
"Camping, hiking, a little climbing….Superstition Mountains in Arizona. Man, that is some beautiful country over there, ya know?" Gage pulled a chair away from the kitchen table, spun it around, and dropped into it facing the back, resting his sunburned arms across the top.
"Still a little hot in Arizona in September, isn't it?" DeSoto queried, staring pointedly at the red arms and the even redder v-shaped patch of skin visible below his partner's collarbones. He figured it had to be pretty hot for his already summer tanned partner to get sunburned.
Johnny shrugged. "Roy, my brain was so fried from three months of studying and taking exams, I figured a little more sunbaking wouldn't hurt. 'Sides, didn't spend all of my time outside."
"Meaning?"
"A few side trips here and there…" his partner answered, an almost dreamy look settling over his features while a slow smile tugged his lips upward.
Roy rolled his eyes, but realized he wouldn't get any more out of the younger man, at least not right now. He glared at Gallagher and Peters, who had both given up on the pretense of reading the paper and were staring at John in various stages of admiration and curiosity.
"So…..Gage," Peters drawled out, his southern accent sounding almost foreign in the California fire station. "You got a chick over there in the desert?"
John's eyes crinkled as the slow smile erupted into a toothy grin, teeth flashing a brilliant white against his tanned, slightly reddened face. "Wouldn't you….." was all he managed to reply as the tones sounded out, effectively ending the conversation.
The paramedics made their way to the squad, donning helmets and tightening straps as their captain answered the dispatcher and then handed the address to DeSoto, who in turn passed the slip of paper to Gage. He scanned the address to verify what he had heard, then directed his partner.
As they headed down 223rd Street, Roy chanced an amused glance sideways at Johnny, who was muttering something and kicking his feet in annoyance at the forgotten, opened gear bag at his feet. He finally gave up and propped one foot up on the seat, and let the other one rest on the bag.
Sam Lanier's voice came over the radio, cancelling the call. John acknowledged it with a brief, "10-4 LA", and then resumed his rummaging around on the floor, this time with his hands. Roy flicked off the lights and sirens and pulled into a parking lot to turn around.
"Owww!" Gage exclaimed, jerking backwards in his seat and waving his left hand frantically. This surprise move was followed by several, calculated hard stomps of a booted foot, and a muttered expletive. Roy bit back his snort of laughter at the unexpected word that flew from his normally reserved partner; he watched in puzzlement as his partner wiped at something on his boot with the call slip.
"What…?" Roy began, then shut up as Johnny angrily whipped up the scrap of paper, opening it to show Roy the almost unrecognizably squashed scorpion smashed on it.
"Bark scorpion. Stupid thing must have hitched a ride in my bag; I used the bag for a pillow when I was camping. Nasty thing nailed me on the finger…" John wiggled his left middle finger at Roy, before folding the paper back up, carefully avoiding putting his fingers anywhere near the tail.
"Uhhh….is that dangerous, I mean the bite? Do you need to go to Rampart? I don't remember covering this in our training." Roy queried, peering at the hand his partner was now flexing and shaking in frustration.
"Nahhhh….only bad for little kids and old people. Hurts like hell for a bit, then it tingles, then it will probably go numb," Johnny replied, slouching down in the seat slightly and leaning his head back, his lips narrowed in a grimace of pain.
"Sounds like you've been stung before? Isn't there anything you can do for it?"
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Johnny just shook his head and drew one leg back up on the seat. "Several times, and no, nothing you can really do. Pouring bleach over it is one of the remedies suggested by my peop….ahhh, by some people, but that's never really worked for me. I'll take some aspirin when we get back to the station; that will take the edge off, plus the pain will be gone in an hour or so anyway."
Roy took the hint and shifted the squad back into drive; they made the short trip back to the station in silence. Johnny stared out the window, leg bouncing slightly on the seat while Roy kept the rest of his comments and questions to himself.
Once they were back in the safe harbor of the apparatus bay, Johnny catapulted himself out of his seat, dragging the bag after him. He unceremoniously dumped the contents of the bag on the cement floor, and began picking up each item of clothing, shaking it, and flinging it into a pile. Roy, who had rounded the back of the squad, leaned casually against the compartment door, folded his arms, and observed the frenzied movements of his, clearly still caffeine strung out, partner.
Trying and failing to keep the amusement out of his voice, Roy cautiously asked, "You didn't go home after the last shift, did you? Looks like all that stuff is dirty."
"Nah, headed right out," he replied, looking up from the floor, where he was now kneeling next to the bag. He gave it a furious shake, carefully looked inside of it, then turned it inside out. "I was planning on heading back yesterday morning so I could get stuff done, but I uhhh…kinda got detained."
Roy looked upwards, as if beseeching help from another source, then squatted down next to Johnny and helped him stuff the dirty laundry back into the bag. Apparently he was going to have to pull the story out word by word. "So how did you get "detained" exactly?"
Gage paused in his actions and glanced around, almost furtively, before answering in a low, quiet voice. "See, there was this girl…..we really hit it off. I met her up in Sedona, she's really into the vibes up there, ya know?"
At Roy's head shake, Johnny threw up his hands in a "whatever" gesture, and lurched to his feet. He grabbed the now zippered bag and headed for the locker room, again looking around before he continued the dialogue. "Anyway, she spent the last two days hanging around with me, hiking, swimming, whatever, so I decided that the least I could do was to offer her a ride home. She rode up to Sedona with some friends, so it was just as easy to take her home to Tucson, then it was to go back to Sedona.
John shrugged, opening up his locker and tossing the bag inside. "That's it, end of story." He reached up to the shelf and grabbed a bottle of aspirin, dumping two into his palm before returning the bottle and slamming the door closed.
"Why didn't you just leave Tucson earlier?"
"Well, ahhh, her roommate was gone, and we both really needed showers, plus we were , uhhhh, tired 'cause both nights before that it was too hot to sleep in the back of my camper, so we just rolled my sleeping bag out on the ground….come on, Roy!" The telltale blush was crawling up Johnny's neck again, effectively darkening the sunburn to a mahogany hue; plus it didn't help that Roy could no longer keep his amusement to himself and was snickering.
"Come on yourself, Junior! I may be married, but it doesn't mean that I don't enjoy hearing of your adventures, especially with the way you tell the story!" Roy gave into his laughter and collapsed on the narrow bench in front of the lockers; Johnny glared at him in mock hurt and crossed over to the sinks to rinse down his pills.
"Squad 51, woman down, 1634 Clayton Blvd., 1-6-3-4 Clayton Blvd, cross streets Wilshire and Beverly, time out 09:08," interrupted the tones, both men pausing to listen, before heading back towards the squad.
"Squad 51, 10-4," Hammer replied, materializing out his office to take the call.
They were out in the street before Roy looked over at Gage; he was rewarded with a lopsided grin. All was definitely right between them, he thought to himself, with his own internal grin.
They pulled up to the curb in front of a ranch style home; an older man was standing in the lush green yard waving frantically at them. Dropping his helmet on the roof of the squad, Johnny quickly unlocked the compartment door and grabbed the bio phone and the drug box. After a quick glance at Roy, he trotted across the thick grass towards the man, wondering briefly why such a beautiful lawn had a bumpy texture to it.
"It's my daughter! She just collapsed, in here, follow me, here…" His words floated out behind him as he bolted through the front door, leaving the paramedics scrambling to catch up to him.
Taking in the scene with a quick glance, Johnny set the bio phone down on the coffee table and slid the black drug box across the floor towards Roy, who knelt down at the daughter's side with his back up against enormous floor to ceiling bookcases. While Roy checked her pulse, John flipped the lid on the orange box and screwed the antennae in.
"Rampart, this is Rescue 51, how do you read me?" He queried, pulling notebook and green pen from his pocket and glancing over at his partner, who was now counting the young woman's respirations. He cast a professional but appreciative look at the young woman; she was dressed in a white miniskirt that showed off her long, tanned legs and her striped top was tied off snugly beneath her ample breasts. He had to bite back his grin at how quickly his partner removed his hand from the bare skin on her stomach after getting the count. He dropped his head and focused his attention on the bio phone.
"This is Rampart, read you loud and clear, 51," came the reply in Dixie McCall's professional, but pleasant radio voice.
"Uh Rampart, female about age 20, probable syncope episode, her pulse and respir…" Johnny broke off abruptly, his mouth opening in shock and surprise as he looked back over at Desoto.
Completely oblivious to what was transpiring behind and above him, Roy wrapped the bp cuff around the woman's arm and began to pump it up; judging by her fluttering eyelashes and normal readings, the woman was already waking up. Intent on watching the dial, he didn't notice for a few seconds a weight sliding across his back and sliding forward over his right shoulder. Finally feeling something odd, he looked up from his intent perusal of the numbers and saw Gage had half risen to his feet, his hand pointing at Roy and a look of horror on his face.
Stethoscope still in his ears, Roy couldn't make out words his partner was mouthing; he instinctively raised his hands toward his shoulder and touched smooth, slightly cool, whoops, shouldn't have ran my hand upwards, almost feels, scaly? Roy gulped and slowly removed the ends of the stethoscope from his ears; he wished he hadn't when he could clearly hear his partner's appropriately hissing words, "Roy….snake!"
Swallowing hard, the light haired paramedic slowly glanced down and stared at the enormous expanse of brown, and black patterned skin that was undulating downward on his shirt. A choking sound erupted from below him; their female patient had raised herself on her elbows and was giggling wildly.
"Walter, you naughty boy! That's where you've been hiding! Come here, baby…" she crooned, raising a hand to stroke the snake as he, tongue flicking, slowly slid his way down Roy and gracefully moved onto his owner. Roy raised himself to his feet, pressing back against the bookshelves until he remembered that was where the snake had appeared from. He abruptly danced his way around the woman's feet around to the other side, momentarily distracted by a thump. Johnny, who had moved around the coffee table to come to his partner's aid, had taken a fast backward step at the woman's laughter. The backs of his legs hit the edge of the table and down he went, on his backside, with a thud.
The two partners stared at each other in disbelief before the squawking of the abandoned bio phone broke their reverie. Johnny spun around, still sitting, and grabbed up the black phone. "Sorry, um, Rampart, we had a situation. Patient alert and uh….stand by…."
He glanced over at Desoto, who had bravely approached the young woman, and was asking her questions. After several giggling answers, Roy looked over his shoulder and gave a John a thumb up. "Refuses treatment, Rampart. Will advise, see own doctor."
"10-4, 51." Dixie's curiosity laden voice replied. Gage was a blur of motion as he packed up the phone and trotted quickly towards the front door, only slowing down enough to check that Roy was finished with the patient. Seeing that his partner was having the now standing woman, snake casually wrapped about her neck, sign the form required for refusal of treatment, Johnny bolted out the door. He slowed only when his feet hit the cushy grass, kicking in irritation at the bumps he kept encountering.
"Geesh, you'd think that they could drag a roller over that," he muttered in frustration, stomping his feet on the sidewalk to rid his newly polished shoes of the sandy granules clinging to them. "What is that stuff, anyways?"
He was wiping his feet on the grass at the edge of the sidewalk when Roy finally appearing, sporting a satisfied grin. "Hey John, Amber wants to thank you."
Johnny looked in the direction Roy was pointing; Amber was standing by the front door, snake still draped over her, waving at them. "Thank you, fireman! Make sure Roy gives you the paper!"
The dark haired paramedic sketched her a quick wave before turning to Roy in confusion. What? He mouthed to his partner, pointing to himself and raising his eyebrows. Roy dropped the box on the shelf before fully facing the younger man.
"Well, Johnny, she took quite a liking to you. She asked me to give you her phone number." He handed him the folded piece of paper, still grinning.
Gage stared speculatively at the paper in his fingers before slowly turning his head and gazing with new interest at the lovely lady still standing at the entrance. His eyes started at her feet and tracked up her long legs, moved past her narrow waist, lingered on her, well, her assets before moving up…..and locking, loading, freezing on the brown, geometric patterned stole reflecting the sunlight….no way!
"Huh! What'd you do, make friends with that snake?" he groused, shaking his leg in irritation, and sliding the paper into his shirt pocket.
Roy watched him in amusement a moment, before shutting and locking the door. "It's a python. I guess it got out of his cage several days ago and has been sleeping on the bookshelves; she was very grateful that we, uh, found Walter. She was so worried about him that she hasn't been eating; that's why she fainted."
"You mean that thing hasn't eaten in two or three days? The snake, I mean!" Johnny's last word was punctuated by a grunt, as he was currently involved in a strange dance that consisted of him jumping on one foot and brushing at his leg, then repeating the same motion on the other foot. "Ahhhh! Something's biting me! Help me out here Roy!"
After several minutes of frantic brushing and squashing, John finally gave up and dropped to the curb. His back to the house, he pulled off his shoes and socks and rolled up his pant legs. Again several minutes crawled by as both men located and smashed the ants that were marching determinedly up John's legs. After they were fairly sure that they had exterminated the biting insects from his itching legs, he rolled his pant legs back down and thoroughly examined his socks and shoes. Quickly putting everything back where it was supposed to be, he detoured to the edge of the lawn, squatted down, and peered at the grass. Yep, ant hills, hundreds and hundreds of them. He limped over to the squad, shaking his head, and slid in. He glanced quickly at the house, hoping that at least Amber had retreated into the house before he began his macabre dance of embarrassment. Knowing his luck, both she and her father had watched it from one of the front windows.
Roy settled into the other side and called them in available, glancing over at Johnny as he did so. His partner appeared deep in thought, rubbing absently at the stung finger from earlier. Roy shifted into gear, slowly pulling away from the curb. Johnny finally shifted in his seat, turning slightly to face Roy.
"Ya know, Roy, I really don't like snakes."
"I can take or leave them, although I have to admit when Walter started slithering down my shirt, it was definitely all in the leave category. My son has been asking about getting one….Amber gave me some suggestions on where to start in case we decide to get one for him. But absolutely not a big one like that, maybe a corn snake."
Johnny shook his head forlornly. "Nope, the only good snake is one on a stick roasting over a fire, or fried on a plate. Like the fried rattlesnake at that place in Phoenix, yep, the only way."
Roy couldn't think of a reply for that one, so gave it up and concentrated on his driving. He abruptly slowed down and started to pull over when Gage squirmed on the seat, and jammed a hand under the waistband of his pants. Roy quickly averted his eyes and stopped the squad under the low hanging branches of a tree, not wanting to witness the murder of an ant, or ants, daring to go where no ant should go, especially on a man!
After a long pause and a string of incomprehensive mutterings, Johnny blew out his breath in a disgusted huff and wiped the ant guts from his fingers on his leg. "I just don't believe this. What next, flying squirrels?"
He slumped down in his seat and gazed dejectedly out of his open window, tapping his fingers on the window frame, and stubbornly refusing to turn his head to look at DeSoto, whom he knew was looking at him.
"Johnny…" Roy began softly, fighting the sudden impulse to grab the younger man's chin and force him to look at him. Both men jumped when a sudden clunking noise hit the roof; they both caught a glimpse of it as it clattered down the windshield, scurried across the front of the squad, and then scrabbled back up on the roof in a flurry of noise.
"What the hell! Did ya see that? Was that a…no way!" Johnny bellowed, flying up on his seat and swinging his upper body out of the window.
So, having been stung by scorpions at least 7 times, I can truthfully say that the sting on my finger was the worst – the numbness lasted for about 2 months!