FIRE PREVENTION WEEK
by ardavenport
- - - One dark night when we were all in bed,
- - - Old Lady Leary left a lantern in the shed
- - - And when the cow kicked it over she winked her eye and said,
- - - 'There'll be a hot time in the ol' town tonight.'
The calls had started coming when it was so late, it was early.
"Gauze."
Standing in turnout pants, white t-shirt and suspenders, John Gage fished around the supply drawer at the base station at Rampart Emergency. His partner, Roy DeSoto, also dressed in his quick-dress, middle-of the night fireman's attire, took the white paper-wrapped packet and put it in the drug box. . . .
First had been a drunk, trying to drive away from a private party and hitting a post at less than five miles an hour. There was no reason to call the engine, but the call had taken far too much time because of all the other drunks from the party trying to be helpful. Unfortunately, the victim had vomited all over himself and was dehydrated and they took him to the hospital.
"Syringes."
"What size?"
Roy poked at the depleted supply in the drug box and asked for a selection. John picked out what they needed. His eyes passed over the cold coffee pot and next to it one of the brightly colored 'Fire Prevention Week' brochures that the department had given to Rampart; the posters had gone up in the cafeteria, the break room and the hospital's lab. Curiously, Station Fifty-One had not had a fire all week, either their shift or any of the others. The joke in the day room was that they were just doing their job preventing fires. But there were still plenty of runs. . . .
After the drunk, they had barely cleaned themselves up at Rampart when the next call came. A night watchman had been clobbered by a thief at an appliance store. The cops had called them and while they bandaged the victim's head and splinted his arm a detective hovered nearby taking his statement about the robbery, his job, his lousy boss, the lack of respect of modern youth for their elders and the overall state of the county.
"Do we have enough IVs?"
"Oh, yeah, we already got those. We just need more Kerlix." Roy eyed the now restored drug box, wary of anything they might have forgotten.
"Oh, yeah." John opened another drawer. The coffee pot at the base station was disappointingly empty; it was a slow night. It was too late/early to go looking for coffee in the break room or cafeteria. They would have to wait until they got back to the station.
The third call, when the sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, was the worst. An eleven year-old boy had found his father sick in bed with terrible chest pains. It was a heart attack.
Male, aged forty-nine, about a hundred and eighty pounds, cyanotic, low blood pressure, sweating. pain in the chest and arms. Myocardial infarction. His pulse increased after they gave the victim oxygen when he opened his eyes and saw his son. He and his father lived alone; his mother had died two years ago. He woke up when he heard his father come home from work early; he went to check on him and found his father in bed gasping. He called the operator for help and she sent it. Running out to meet them, he led them back to his stricken father and stood back out of the way while they saved his father's life. His name was Robin. He answered their questions without getting in the way and he got dressed while they worked on his father so he could go with the ambulance to the hospital. His nearest relative was an aunt in Riverside County. He never shouted, cried or got in their way. He was smart. But the silent desperation in his dark eyes kept the paramedics focused on their jobs.
"Is that it?" John yawned.
Roy nodded and closed the drug box up. "Boy, I don't want to get another one like that."
His large stretch immediately deflating, John went to his partner's side, his brown eyes on the top of the drug box.
"Yeah." Down the hall, Robin sat in a hard plastic chair in the reception area.
Calls for hurt kids were the worst. But a kid did not have to be sick or injured to be hurt.
Robin's father had arrested in the ambulance. John had gotten his heart started again, but they had to stop. Knowing that any inquiry, any offer of help would just be a useless distraction, Roy had tensely sat behind the driver's wheel in the squad, his eyes on the back of the ambulance for the minute they were pulled over. Robin had been sitting up front with the ambulance driver.
Sighing, Roy touched the black plastic case. Looking up and past his partner, he saw Robin coming down the hall, accompanied by Dixie McCall. She had gotten an early shift at the last minute when one of her nurses called in sick, one of the perks of being head nurse at Rampart Emergency. Dixie's expression told them that Robin's father was still stable, upstairs in the cardiac care ward. So, it was safe to smile at the boy.
John stepped away from the base station. "Hey, Robin, is your aunt coming soon?"
He nodded solemnly. Dixie laid her hand on his shoulder and confirmed it.
"I talked to her. She'll be here in about an hour with Robin's other aunt. Robin can wait here for them. And she told me what a responsible young man her nephew has been taking care of his father these past few years."
Robin shyly squirmed a little bit, lowering his dark eyes. Small and skinny, with dark hair tidily cut short and wearing long pants and plaid shirt, he looked too young for to be left alone at night while his father went to work. But after this run, both paramedics had to agree that the eleven year-old was obviously mature enough.
Dixie smiled down on him. "And he told me something that I think you would be happy to hear. Robin?"
He glanced up at her and gave a quick sigh. "My aunt told me I should thank you for taking care of my father."
"Well, you're welcome." Roy leaned on the counter. "That's what we're here for."
"And I told Miss McCall about how come I checked on my Dad.
"He works the night shift at a warehouse and he's come home early a few times cause he wasn't feeling well. My aunt Jinny told him to see a doctor, but he doesn't like doctors." He paused, eyeing his surroundings. His father was not going to get away from doctors for quite a while.
"He fixes breakfast for me before I go to school and makes sure I finish my homework." There was another pause as the boy clearly wondered what would happen to school and homework now, but he went on. "And I heard him again, but it was too early to get up and I was gonna go back to sleep. But I remembered what the fireman said to my class when he come to school this week."
Both paramedics perked up. Dixie's smile increased a little bit.
"They talked about how people set fire to their sofas and houses and things when they fall asleep with their cigarettes." He swallowed. "My dad, he smokes in bed sometimes. So, I got up and to check on him."
Roy and John together inhaled the tiny revelation that was better than a pot of fresh coffee.
They did not know what school Robin went to or which station had visited it, but it didn't really matter. Most stations in the Department had been doing the traditional 'Fire Prevention Week' PR. It could sometimes be thankless to speak in front of rooms of fidgety grade-school and high-school kids who only wanted to go outside to see a real live fire engine and not just a measly squad. They often looked too bored to be told about the Great Chicago Fire in 1871 or that Woodrow Wilson, in 1920, was the first president to make an official proclamation commemorating the anniversary of that disaster with 'Fire Prevention Week'. But they all seemed to know that song about Mrs. O'Leary's stupid cow and looked surprised to find out what it was really about. Back at the station, Chet Kelly had openly wondered if they weren't just giving the kids ideas about what they could set on fire.
Robin shook their hands before returning to the reception area; Dixie gave them a wink as she went with him.
The sun was up in the smoggy blue LA sky by the time they got back to Station Fifty-One. Captain Stanley came out of the office as they returned.
"Well, you guys have been working."
"You bet, Cap." John gave the side of the squad a cheerful rap. The smiling paramedics puzzled the captain; they were usually not so perky after so many back-to-back runs, especially so early in the morning.
The coffee was brewing in the day room, the rest of engine crew lounged in the wooden chairs around the kitchen table. There was still a scattering of PR material on it, brochures and hand-outs, candles, wood and other 'Things That Burn', the year's theme for Fire Prevention Week.
"Well, two look pretty chipper, especially since we know you didn't get as much beauty sleep as the rest of us. What've you been doing?" Chet Kelly already had an empty coffee cup in front of him in anticipation. Marco Lopez muttered that no amount of beauty sleep would help his fellow firefighter.
Roy let his pride show in his smile, but John stuck his chest out, too. "Preventing fires, Chet. Preventing fires."
**%**%** 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.