Marco's Mission

Chapter 2

The big red engine lumbered down the pothole-covered street in one of the poorer areas of 51's district. The four men inside were jostled from side to side, causing the two in the jump seats to hold on for support to prevent them from being thrown to the floorboard, or possibly into the street. It wasn't that Mike was a bad driver; he was one of the best in the county, but these streets were as neglected as most of the buildings in this section of the city, leaving him with no clear pathway to the plume of smoke rising in front of them.

As soon as Roy pulled the squad to a stop outside the apartment complex, he and John exited, immediately grabbing their SCBA. In tandem, they pulled the black harnesses over their shoulders, securing the yellow tanks to their backs.

Behind the squad, Mike eased to a slow crawl, dropping Chet off to tap the hydrant. The engineer pulled forward, releasing the hose in a strategic manner perfected through countless previous runs. As soon as he stopped the engine in place, the men disembarked and began the task of battling the blaze.

Hank quickly loped over to the incident commander, then returned to his waiting crew. "I want an inch and a half through that far door, Lopez," he pointed to his right, knowing his senior lineman would follow his directive without batting an eye. Marco's earlier outburst was all but forgotten in the heat of the moment. The lanky captain then hurriedly made his way to the place where law enforcement officers were creating a perimeter to prevent civilians from interfering with the fire department operations.

Hank spun around quickly, heading straight to the squad. "John, Roy, IC thinks we've got an elderly female in 2-D."

"We'll get her," Johnny responded, pulling on his air mask and slapping his pocket to make sure he had his HT.

"Grab and go, Pal. This old building hasn't got a lot of fight left in her," Hank said, with a sense of foreboding.

Mike completed his preparations at the control panel then gave Chet the signal to tap the hydrant. Chet followed his engineer's command, watching to be sure the supply line was engorged before joining his partner on the hose. No matter what happened between them earlier, they had a job to do and nothing was going to stand in their way of defeating a roaring dragon.

Marco held onto the hose, slowly inching forward. He felt the familiar hand of his partner on his shoulder, a sense of support and security in one simple gesture. Chet was there backing him up, just like always. He pushed their earlier strife into the farthest corner of his mind, leaving it there for a later conversation, then moved ahead with the battle at hand. Muffled voices behind them grew closer just as a couple of men in turnout gear rushed past them. The fact that Gage and DeSoto were not manning lines meant there was a primary search underway within the burning structure. Without the need for additional directives, Marco headed for the stairs in order to offer their paramedics whatever water support he and Chet could as they searched for victims.

Outside, Mike's eagle eyes scanned the scene while keeping a close watch on the gauges. Not only did they have a potential civilian victim still inside, but their linemen and paramedics were in harm's way, and it was up to him to be a second set of eyes and ears for their captain. The two of them, Hank and Mike, worked well together. Mike never questioned the older man's authority, and Hank never questioned his engineer's knowledge and skill. They could read each other's thoughts just as well as the paramedics and linemen could read the minds of their own partners. In the distance, he saw a lone figure, standing apart from the crowd. He was wearing a light colored sweatshirt with the collar pulled up over his nose even though the wind was blowing the smoke away from him. His upper face was hidden from view by the brim of his baseball cap pulled a little lower than seemed necessary. Mike made a mental note, then returned his attention to the task at hand.

Inside the structure, the paramedics made quick work of searching apartment 2-D. Finding the woman in question, Roy assisted Johnny in pulling her into a fireman's carry and heading for the exit. Roy hurriedly marked the apartment door with a chalk 'X' then followed his partner towards the stairs. The other second floor apartment doors had been left open, indicating the residents had escaped. The older paramedic stuck his head in quickly, scanning the small rooms.

"Anybody in here?" He paused to listen, then moved to the next open door. "Hello? Fire Department, anybody in here?" Finding nothing, he once again used his chalk to mark the doors. As soon as he reached the stairwell, a soft choking cough somehow managed to be heard above the roaring noise of the all-consuming fire. Roy took a step back towards apartment A. "I'll check it out," Roy yelled to his partner, unaware that Johnny had neither heard Roy's words nor the coughing sounds that led his partner in a different direction.

Johnny descended the stairs as quickly, and yet as carefully, as he could. The added weight of an unconscious victim along with the wet stairs and blinding smoke and steam made a normally mundane task all the more dangerous. Finally, as he made it to the first floor, he saw that his linemen had forced the flames back enough to allow a direct path of egress from the structure without flames licking at the thin house coat worn by his victim. As soon as he was out of the building, he felt his burden being lifted from his shoulders and the voice of his captain questioning him.

"Let them take her, John. Where's Roy?"

Johnny turned around just as the paramedics from 69's carried his victim to safety. That's when he realized that Roy had not made it out of the building. "I dunno. He was right behind me," he responded frantically.

"Go look for him, but make it quick. I don't think we can save this one," Hank explained, sensing that their only course of action was to try to contain the fire to the current structure involved.

Back inside the tiny apartment, Roy searched, wondering if perhaps he had been mistaken about the coughing sound he thought he had heard. Then, just as he exited the bathroom, he saw a slight movement from the kitchen area. Pushing past an overturned chair, he looked behind the table and saw a disheveled female victim lying curled up in the corner. Quickly, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the door.

Johnny rushed passed Marco and Chet one more time in search of his partner. Was Roy injured? Why had he not followed Johnny out with their victim? A thousand possible explanations rushed through Johnny's mind, and he had to force them to remain silent while he searched for his missing partner. Never would he leave a brother behind in such an inferno, certainly not his best friend.

"ROY!" He called out, unsure if his voice could be heard above the roaring sounds of the fire and the hissing sprays of water. Just as he reached the second floor, he saw Roy hustling towards him with another victim in his arms. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here!" He stepped aside allowing Roy to pass by him. The victim needed clean air as quickly as possible. "Anybody else?" Johnny questioned.

"No," Roy responded, taking the first step of the slippery stairwell.

At the base of the stairs, Marco saw the two paramedics descending the staircase. He and Chet had already switched places, so he used his feet to kick the hose out of the way, ensuring that his crew mates had as safe an exit as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was delay a rescue and even further injure a victim by causing the rescuer to stumble.

Once outside, Johnny noticed that the other set of paramedics were treating the victim he had removed earlier. She seemed to be regaining consciousness and his heart felt a bit relieved. Now, he turned his attention to the younger victim Roy was carrying towards their squad.

Mike glanced up, saw his paramedics rushing out of the building with another victim, and with one last glance at his gauges, rushed to their aid. He quickly pulled open the compartments of the squad, removing the biophone, portable oxygen tank, and a disposable blanket. He then returned to his controls, seeing that their captain was jogging over to assist with the care of the victim.

Roy gently laid the young woman down on the yellow blanket, then began shrugging off his SCBA. Johnny, too, extricated himself from his air tank, then screwed the antenna into the biophone.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

Back inside the burning structure, Marco tapped Chet's shoulder then took over the point position with the hose. A loud groaning noise caught his attention and both men looked up simultaneously.

"Ceiling's gonna go," Chet exclaimed, just as the order to retreat reached their ears.

Marco shut off the flow and both men hurried out of the structure, followed by a blast of smoke, dust and debris. They headed for their captain, as Mike looked up from his gauges. He had noticed the sudden change in water pressure and realized that it had occurred before the order to evacuate the building. Now, he hoped that his linemen had intentionally shut down the flow. He didn't want to think of the other reasons why the water pressure might make a rapid change. When he saw that both linemen were out of the structure, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed over to the place where Hank was talking to them.

"Ceiling collapsed," Chet said, breathlessly.

"Alright, glad you fellas made it out. Other units are protecting the exposures. We're in a defensive mode." Hank once again scanned the scene with his hazel eyes.

"Damn…" Chet shook his head, wiping a gloved hand across his brow, pushing his helmet to one side. He quickly readjusted it. "I hate surround and drown."

"We all do, Kelly. Nothing to save now, though," Hank explained. Somehow, the order felt like defeat even though the experienced fire captain knew it wasn't. Like all firemen, he preferred to walk away from a scene leaving something behind that was salvageable for those who lived there. That would not be the case this time. As his men trudged back to finish their jobs, he returned to his paramedics.

"What've you got?" Hank asked the busy men while eyeing the medical debris strewn around them from the IV packaging. He saw Roy taping the ordered IV in place. Johnny was busy taking another set of vitals.

"Pulse is still rapid and thready, respiration continues to be 20 and shallow, pupils sluggish…"

Hank listened to Johnny's description of their victim's updated vitals being relayed to Rampart. He couldn't help but notice the extra attention Roy seemed to be paying to the woman's abdominal area.

"Johnny, belly seems stiff and… Um," he knitted his eyebrows together as he palpated what felt like a second-trimester pregnancy. "Possible pregnancy, movement along the lower ribs on the left side. She's going sour on us," Roy noted with obvious concern in his voice.

"Rampart, victim's abdomen is rigid, probable internal bleeding and possible fractured ribs on the left side. Also, possible pregnancy."

"51, monitor her vitals, keep her well ventilated and transport as soon as possible." The gruff sounding voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett was unmistakable.

"10-4, Rampart," Johnny responded just as the Mayfair crew rolled up the gurney.

"I'll ride in with her," Roy announced, buckling the belts along her lower body.

"A'right, I'll get your gear." Johnny closed up the biophone. "Cap, will you get the drug box?"

Hank picked up the black box and loaded it into the ambulance. As soon as Johnny gave the customary two slaps and the ambulance pulled away, Hank turned to his younger medic. "Broken ribs and internal injuries? What happened to her?"

"Don't know, Cap. Roy was heading out with her when I first saw them." Johnny turned toward the squad, Roy's turnouts hanging over his left arm. He turned back around for a moment, pushing up the brim of his helmet. "Hey, Cap?"

"Yea?" Hank asked, turning halfway around in the direction of his medic.

"You need me for overhaul?"

"No," the captain waved off the younger man. "Go ahead and pick up Roy then make the squad available. We've got enough man power here to finish this up."

Johnny replaced the equipment in the squad's compartments then took a seat on the tan bench seat behind the steering wheel. With the window rolled down and his elbow resting on the ledge, he slowly maneuvered the squad through the thinning crowd in the direction of Rampart.

Inside the ambulance, Roy's patient was exhibiting signs of agitation as she slowly began to regain consciousness. Her breathing was becoming progressively more labored, her brow sweaty, and pain caused her facial muscles to twitch and contort. Roy tried to comfort her, knowing that she was likely able to hear his voice even if she wasn't yet able to open her eyes.

"Sshhh, you're gonna be alright. Just relax for me. We're on our way to the hospital and they'll take good care of you," he crooned in his softest voice. He watched as her eyes fluttered partially open, while she searched for the source of the voice speaking to her. He smiled at her when her eyes finally seemed to focus on him. "Hi, my name's Roy DeSoto and I'm a firefighter/paramedic. Just relax, alright? I need for you to take it easy and stay still."

"Ba-uh, ahhh," she groaned, squeezing her eyes closed again as she tried to wrap her arms around her abdomen, the fog of pain preventing her from forming the words she wanted to relay to her rescuer.

"I know. I know it hurts." He reached for her hands pulling them back down to her sides. "Just try to relax and breathe for me," he requested, adjusting the oxygen mask she had inadvertently shifted when she rolled her head from side to side.

The bouncing inside the ambulance indicated that they were making their approach to the emergency room entrance. Roy prepared his charge to be moved as the ambulance backed to a stop at the glass doors. Moments later, he assisted in the careful transfer of the woman from the ambulance stretcher to the exam table inside treatment room three. Again, she cried out in pain even though the medical staff were very careful during the transfer. Her arms immediately wrapped around her abdomen.

"She's been guarding her abdomen since we started the trip in, Doc," Roy said to the dark-haired physician who was barking orders to the nurses around him.

Dixie began removing the woman's clothing, grimacing at the bruises that had formed on her left side.

The bruising had also been seen by Dr. Brackett who immediately began ordering x-rays and blood work. "What were the circumstances, Roy?"

The paramedic had worked with his medical director long enough to understand what the older man meant. "She was huddled in a corner of her kitchen in a fetal position, unconscious."

Dr. Brackett's piercing blue eyes looked up at his paramedic. "Was she further injured during the rescue?"

Roy felt the sting of the physician's words, even though he knew why the question was being asked. If positions had been reversed, he would have done the same thing. "No, this was how I found her."

"And how was she carried out?" Dr. Brackett continued his exam without looking at his paramedic.

"Cradle carry," Roy stated flatly.

Satisfied with the answers to his questions, Dr. Brackett positioned the earpieces of his stethoscope and began listening to his patient's breath sounds, a curious look crossing his face as his stethoscope moved lower and lower. He palpated her abdomen, grimacing at the small rounded mound between her navel and pubic bone.

"Is she?" Dixie asked, raising one eyebrow. She remembered the comment Johnny had made about a possible pregnancy.

"Get me a Doppler," the physician ordered.

"You need me, Doc?" Roy asked, backing towards the door.

Dr. Brackett looked over his shoulder at Roy. "No, go ahead."

Roy exited the room, looking down the corridor for his partner. Not seeing Johnny, he headed for the nurse's station in search of coffee and supplies. Several minutes passed before he heard a familiar voice.

"How's the patient?"

Roy looked behind him at his partner, then turned around and leaned against the counter. "I don't know. Brackett's still in there with her. She started coming around on the way in." He grimaced, tilting his round face slightly downwards. "She was in a lot of pain."

The two continued their conversation for a few minutes until Dr. Brackett and Dixie exited the treatment room with somber faces.

"What happened?" Roy asked with concern in his voice, fearing the worst. He had learned to recognize the look of defeat on the face of Dr. Kelly Brackett.

Dr. Brackett pocketed both hands into his lab coat. "She's got a good chance of making it, I think. Unfortunately, the baby didn't."

"She was pregnant then," Roy stated, setting his coffee cup down on the counter. "I-I wasn't sure."

"Well, I'm guessing that someone didn't want her to be. It looks like blunt force trauma in the abdominal area and lower left rib cage. There's fingerprint bruises forming along her right forearm. I thought I heard fetal heart tones at first, but when I got a Doppler to listen closer, I didn't hear any. An exam showed she was pregnant and based on fundal height, she was about 15 – 17 weeks, I'm guessing."

"How'd I miss that?" Roy questioned, running his hand along his chin. His voice held the sound of frustration.

"Between the noise at the scene and her own rapid heart rate, you probably couldn't have heard fetal heart tones even with a Doppler while out there," Dr. Brackett nodded toward the exterior wall of the Emergency Room.

Roy hung his head in defeat. "No, I mean the bruises. I didn't see them."

"Nothing you could've done anyway, Roy. Besides, with her broken ribs and internal bleeding, you were doing your job. You were focusing on the life-threatening issues first. She's going to be going up for surgery as soon as an OR opens up." He slapped the older paramedic on his shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, Roy. Someone else did. Her injuries were not accidental, plus there are a few older bruises, too. Let's just hope she'll be able to tell the police what happened when she wakes up."

E!

Overhaul was progressing without incident. Chet and Marco continued working well together, as if there had been no earlier altercation. Mike and Hank were assisting with the clean-up, both keeping their eyes and ears open for any signs of distress from their two remaining crew members.

The crowd of on-lookers began to dwindle as the last wisps of smoke ascended towards the bright blue heavens. There were wailing sounds of residents who had just watched most of their worldly possessions disappear before their eyes. What the fire didn't destroy, the smoke and water damaged beyond repair. Thankfully, there were no fatalities to report from this particular incident, although there had been two injuries, one critical. Those left on scene were unaware of the fetal demise experienced by the second victim.

Amid the remaining crowd, behind a few of the taller men, stood a dark-haired beauty. She had watched her friend being carried away in an ambulance and she silently prayed to the God she feared no longer listened to her prayers, that her friend might survive the harrowing experience. She wanted to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but she had no means of transportation. Instead, she simply stood back and watched the men from the county fire department do their jobs. One man in particular caught her attention. Her brown eyes followed his every move. She hadn't seen him in a very long time, but the outline of his face, even beneath his helmet, was unmistakable. She had seen it almost daily for nearly a decade and a half. Now, she just hoped he wouldn't see her. It was one thing to know how disappointed her family was with what she had done, but to see it written on the face of her older brother was more than her shattered heart could handle. She quickly wiped away the lone tear that threatened to leave a damp trail down her tanned cheek. She had learned to hide her emotions, her fears and her guilt. Tears were a sign of weakness that she had seen exploited too many times. They were a symbol of the humanity of which she no longer felt a part.

E!

The two paramedics rolled down the streets of Carson, windows lowered allowing the cool air to blow across their soot-covered sweaty faces. Johnny occasionally stole a glance at his partner, worried about the older man's recriminations regarding the unseen bruises on their second victim. He decided to break the silence with something that he considered to be good news.

"Hey, Roy?"

Without turning his head, Roy responded. "Yea?"

"I, uh, I thought about something while we were off," Johnny stated, using the heels of his hands to rub his eyes. His sweat-soaked bangs blowing in the wind had irritated them.

"And?" Roy really wasn't in the mood to hear another of his young partner's hair-brained ideas.

"Well, I talked to Chet and…"

"Uh-oh," Roy groaned, turning right onto 223rd Street.

"No, really… See, Caroline is trying to find a part-time job so she can save money for another car. And that means that she needs daycare for Corrie," Johnny's hands were becoming more animated as his excitement grew.

"Okay, you gonna babysit?" Roy had no idea where Johnny was heading with his story.

"No, no, not me. See, I was thinkin'… What if Caroline took Joanne's job at the flower shop and Joanne kept Corrie? Joanne would make a little money doing something she loves and is really good at. She'd be at home, which is what she really wants anyway. You and the kids would be happy about that. Corrie would be safe and well cared for. Caroline would make some extra money to save for a car… Everybody wins," he grinned lopsidedly, proud of his plan.

Roy cut his eyes over at his partner, remaining silent as he backed the squad into the empty apparatus bay. The engine crew had not yet returned to the station. "What if Caroline doesn't want to work in a florist's shop? What if Jo doesn't want to give up her job? What if her boss doesn't want to hire Caroline?" He asked matter-of-factly, backing to a stop and staring at Johnny.

Johnny sat in his seat, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Huh?"

"Actually, I'm just kidding, Junior. That really doesn't sound like a bad idea. Have you mentioned it to Chet?"

Johnny grinned, thinking how nice it was to have Roy acting like his old self again. "Nah, haven't had a chance. I was gonna do it just before Marco TKO'd him this morning."

"Humph, yea, that was unusual wasn't it?" Roy opened his door, stepping out into the bay and slamming the door behind him.

Johnny waited for the sound of the two slamming doors to cease before he spoke back up. "Yea, somethin's up with Lopez. I tried talkin' to him earlier, but he wasn't in a talkin' kinda mood."

"Who's got lunch?" Roy asked, unable to remember who was supposed to be preparing their lunch, but assuming it was one of the engine crew. He felt uneasy talking about their lineman's unusual behavior and needed to change the subject.

"Uh, Stoker I think," Johnny responded, pouring a glass of water and passing it to Roy before pouring another one for himself. Both men knew the importance of hydrating after a fire.

"They'll likely be gone awhile. Why don't we go ahead and get some sandwiches started?" Roy asked, pulling a knife out of the drawer.

"Heck, yea, I'm always ready to eat," Johnny grinned.

E!

Back at the scene of the apartment fire, the engine crew from 51's climbed tiredly on board their rig. It had been a long morning for everyone involved, especially for the people who now were seeking the assistance of the Red Cross staff who had just arrived to offer a little relief to the victims. Marco watched as the line of weeping survivors began to form around the red-vested personnel. His tired blood-shot eyes swept over the scene as Mike started the engine.

This was not Marco's first time to survey this neighborhood. The last time he had been here, which was only a couple of weeks ago, he had been in a compromising position that could have resulted in an embarrassing arrest and ultimately a dismissal from the department had he been caught. That morning, shortly after midnight, a young lady had climbed into his car expecting to be paid for a particular illegal service. Instead, Marco had driven her to an abandoned parking lot where she was paid, not for her body, but for her information. The woman, known to Marco only as Sabrina, confirmed that a nineteen year-old woman named Alexia Lopez was indeed alive and staying somewhere in this section of town. Unfortunately, she was also known to be a Go-Go dancer, occasional stripper, and, more recently, a prostitute in the more run down areas of the city. During his encounter with Sabrina, an agreement had been reached between them. She would keep giving him updates on his wayward baby sister, whom he had always called Lexi, as long as Marco paid Sabrina for her time and information.

The engine bounced across another pothole, snapping Marco's mind back to the present. Now, as he watched the smoldering residential remains disappear from his view, he was left wondering if perhaps he had just assisted in extinguishing a fire that had destroyed what little shelter and possessions Lexi Lopez had acquired in the nearly five years she had been gone. And if so, perhaps this would be the catalyst for the return of the prodigal daughter.