FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE
by ardavenport
Captain 'Mac' MacAdams stared out the small window of the ambulance as if he might catch a glimpse of the orange glow of the brush fire out there, but it was dark except for a random distant street light disappearing into the blackness in the hills. Roy DeSoto saw him rub his bandaged arm. The burn had to hurt; Roy had bandaged it and Brackett had treated it at Rampart, but MacAdams would only say that he'd had worse. He didn't need to be hospitalized, so Dr. Brackett let him get a ride back to the fire in the ambulance with Roy.
The man was less than three months from mandatory retirement age; Roy couldn't blame him for wanting to get back to the action, though the firefighters had the upper hand now on this fire. It would probably be completely contained by morning, though there would still be days more mopping-up work making sure it was out and wouldn't flare back up again. MacAdams had admitted that they probably didn't need him there, but he wanted to personally report back to the battalion chief about his men. They were still back at Rampart. They would be fine, but they would have a few scars.
"I didn't have time to mention," Roy started, getting the veteran firefighter's attention, "that your new engineer used to work at our station."
MacAdams scowled. "Kelly? Was he always such a wise-acre with you?"
Roy's smile faltered, "Uh, yeah. Actually, Sir, he used to be a lot worse."
MacAdams' lip curled. "Hrrmm. Well, his jokes are terrible, but his cooking's OK and he's a good solid man in the line of fire. He got that engine in and out of there fast. Could've been a lot worse for Fiske and Hernandez without him." He shook his head.
"Yes, Sir, he is." Roy's smile returned. Chet Kelly had been trying for years to get a high enough score on the Engineer's Exam for a promotion. To everyone's surprise (especially Kelly) he finally got 14th on the list. A promotion to be Engineer at Station Ninety-Four came soon after. He left Station Fifty-One at the same time as Captain Stanley, who was moving to headquarters as Battalion Chief. Marco Lopez was looking at transferring to a Station in East LA. Everyone was was leaving. The tight-knit, A-shift at Station Fifty-One was breaking up, people moving on.
They braced themselves as the ambulance rounded a corner, turning onto a bumpy dirt road. They were nearing camp.
"My partner and I," Roy got MacAdams' attention again, "have been studying for the Captain's Exam. I just wondered if you might have any pointers for us?"
MacAdams' gray brows rose. "Really? Paramedics can do that now?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Hmmm," he nodded thoughtfully, "well, I'm afraid the only useful thing I can give you is to tell you to find someone who's passed the exam more recently than I have. That young fellow, Granger at Sixty-Six, " he named one of the Captains they had worked with on the brush fire, "he's a good man. It's been too long since I passed mine. Everything I tell you will probably be two decades out-of-date. Things've changed a lot since my time." He spoke as if he were already in retirement, but Roy didn't say anything about it.
"But you and your partner, you did a fine job back there with my men." MacAdams' expression softened into sympathy, "You sure you want to give that up?" He gestured toward the paramedic patch on Roy's jacket.
"Well, I have to admit that I've passed on a promotion before to stay with the paramedics. But . . . " he paused, "I've got a growing family to support and you start to feel like you're standing in one place too long after awhile, especially if you see other people moving on." He shrugged. "And some of those rescues aren't as easy as they used to be ten years ago. Those new trainees I see at Rampart keep getting younger all the time."
"Yeah, they sure do," MacAdams grinned in agreement before he dropped the smile. He looked out to the window. "Man's got to move on eventually."
Roy said nothing in return; he wasn't sure the last comment was meant for him.
A few minutes later the ambulance slowed. MacAdams peered through the window again but there still wasn't much to see until the ambulance stopped, turned and parked. One of the attendants opened the doors to let them out and Captain MacAdams was first out, striding toward the command station. Roy headed for the first aid station.
"DeSoto."
He turned.
"You and your partner did a fine job tonight." MacAdams saluted him and strode off again.
"Thank-you, Sir." Roy stood alone on the dirt.
The ambulance attendants headed in the direction of the smells of food, but Roy wasn't very hungry. He went to the first aid station.
It was quiet. The rush of coughing men and eye-washes was gone, the cots empty. Except for one. Roy's partner, Johnny Gage was asleep under a blanket, in the gloom near the front, away from the bare generator-driven incandescent bulbs in the back.
"Roy!"
A familiar voice caught his attention. Chet Kelly, in turnouts and fire helmet came running up.
"Hey, Chet!" he grinned broadly. He hadn't seen Chet at all since he'd transferred to Ninety-Four. They slapped each others arms, a universally masculine, but non-committal gesture of camaraderie.
"Hey, where's the Cap?"
Roy pointed. "He went to talk to the chief about Granger and Hernandez."
"They're going to be OK, right?"
"Oh yeah," Roy reassured him. "They're going to have to stay at Rampart for a couple days, but they'll be fine."
"Hey, that's great. I knew with you and Johnny on the job, they'd be fine."
Roy nodded, accepting the praise, but knowing quite well that both men had been quite lucky on their own. "Hey, Captain MacAdams said you did a good job with engine back there."
"He did?" Chet's voice rose in surprise before he recovered. "Oh well, yeah, of course he did. I knew I'd win him over."
"He also said you were a wise-acre with terrible jokes, but he could stand your cooking."
Chet drew back in mock offense. "Oh, well, he's just getting to know me." They stood together in the nighttime fire camp near the entrance of the open first aid station building. It was past 2 AM, the aroma of smoke in the air. But the smell was mostly coming from Chet Kelly's sooty turnouts than from the brush fire beyond the dark hills.
"Well, your Cap's not going to have to put up with you too long."
Chet's smile drooped. "Yeah, it sucks. Remind me not to get that old." Roy nodded back, as if that was possible.
"But hey," he perked up again, "the guys are planning a real good send off for him. Guys from six other stations at least. Mac's been around for awhile. And he's been a great Captain."
"Yeah. Well, let me know when. I'd like to try to make it."
"Sure thing."
Having mostly exhausted the depth of that topic, they were silent together for a minute.
"So, how're things back at Fifty-One? How're the new guys?'
"Oh, fine."
It was true. Captain Yancy was in his mid-thirties. A new captain and a little strict about regulations, but not unreasonably so, especially when Roy and Mike Stoker explained things. Roy had been surprised that Station Fifty-One's Engineer was not studying for the Captain's exam with them, but he quietly confessed to Roy that he still wasn't ready to leave his own job driving the engine, a sentiment that the paramedic well understood. Chet Kelly's replacement was a tall blond firefighter, green out of the Academy, a little impulsive, but smart enough to learn and young enough to make all the senior members of the A-shift feel very old.
"Fine, eh?" Chet frowned. "Didn't know I was so easily replaced."
Roy grinned, patting him on the back. "Nobody can replace you, Chet."
"We're all getting replaced, Roy."
That sobered up his cheer and his arm dropped. "Yeah." He looked about the camp, dark but the some activity always buzzed at all hours, dispatches echoing out on a loud speaker, a few trucks rolling out, some guys by the food. And it looked like there was a TV crew over by the command center. "Maybe it's about time."
"Yeah." Kelly's mustache drooped. He slapped Roy on the back. "But, hey, Roy, we'll always have Station Fifty-One, no matter where we go."
Roy shook his head. "Not for much longer, I think."
"Well, not in the here and now, but I was reading this article written by some Indian guru who said that our whole lives could be laid out all at once, and seen from the divine, we're always living them all the time, no matter what. So, you know, we'll always be back at the Station some way."
Roy wondered about that. Could he possibly be living every moment of his life all at once? Going to high school, being in the Army, getting married, being woken up in the middle of the night with Joanne by his son's crying after he was born, paramedic training, going out on runs in the squad with Johnny, those high rescues, cranky complaining victims, an occasional heartfelt thanks, taking his Captain's exam (hopefully passing it) . . . . all at once? All the time?
"Did you read that in a book?"
Chet Kelly was always picking up and dropping various fads. Roy and the others at the Station had learned to not take them too seriously. He shrugged. "Read it in Reader's Digest while I was waiting to get my hair cut."
Then he spied Johnny asleep on his cot. His mood suddenly lightened. Finger to his lips in a 'shhhh' gesture, he tip-toed past the cot with the sleeping paramedic on it and going into the first aid station. Roy heard some splashing sounds and a moment later, Chet emerged, holding up a bucket.
Roy intercepted him just as he reached the head of Johnny's cot. He silently signaled Kelly to put it down but the prankster shook his head, holding the water bucket up higher.
"Oh, come on, Roy!" he objected in a whisper. "Just this once. For old time's sake!" Chet's eyes glowed with mirth and Roy hesitated. All those stupid juvenile gags, the crams and practical jokes just weren't all that funny anymore, but that was mostly because they'd all gotten over it, gotten older.
Roy was suddenly tired of being older.
He lowered his hands and took a step back so he wouldn't get splattered.
Grinning evilly, Chet Kelly held the bucket over Johnny's head, tipping it slowly. A few fat splats of water hit Johnny on the forehead first and for a couple of seconds there was no reaction. Then Johnny's face scrunched up in distaste and his eyes blinked open just when the big splash hit him.
"Uh? Wh-b-b-b-blAAAAAAUUUGHHH!"
Johnny sat up so suddenly the cot tipped and he barely caught himself from sprawling out on the ground, stumbling up, his feet scrambling to get under him, arms flying out to catch his balance and almost getting tangled up in the blanket.
"SSSS-sssppp-pppp-ttttt!" He shook his head, hands batting at the water soaking him and the front of his shirt. "What? What?"
Roy had to laugh along with Chet. Johnny looked like a cat that had just been dunked into a bath.
"Roy! Roy, what the - - ?" Johnny spotted Kelly. "Chet! Chet! What are you - - ?" Johnny grabbed the bucket and threw it away behind him. It bounced off into the dark. Chet kept laughing and Johnny's ire turned to his partner.
"Roy! Roy, what'd you go and let him do that for?" He furiously swiped at his wet dark, barely-in-regulation-length hair, clinging to his forehead and sticking out on the sides.
Still grinning, Roy gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Just for old times' sake. Here, let me get you a towel." The night was chilly, especially in the hills.
"I'll get it!" Johnny stomped off into the first aid station and came back, vigorously rubbing his head with a white towel. Chet Kelly gave him a big smile.
"Hey, can't have you sleeping on the job there, buddy."
"Yeah, you're a real expert on that, Chet." Johnny glared back, but his anger was already fading. It had been just a joke. "What're you doing hanging around here? There's a fire out there, you know."
"Just waiting for the call back into the action." Hands up, Chet backed away. "We can't all just lay around here taking it easy at camp."
Johnny snapped the towel at him, but Chet was already out of range, jogging (and laughing) over to the command center.
"I can't believe they let that guy drive an engine." Johnny scowled, shivering from the cool air on his wet shirt and jacket, rubbing his damp hair. "I'm surprised he hasn't driven over a cliff or something."
Roy shrugged, gazing past the command center where a couple of fire trucks were arriving. "Captain MacAdams said he did a good job getting them out of there."
"Yeah?" Johnny tried patting down the front of his shirt without catching the towel on his badge or name tag. "Well, he just better not get in front of me with a fire hose - - "
Roy tugged his sleeve and pointed. "Time to go back to work. Looks like we got customers." The trucks were rolling up and they could hear the soot blackened men on them coughing. They hurried to get the equipment ready.
It was just like old times.
**-**-** END **-**-**
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.