Chapter 2

The "A" shift, returning to the station at the start of their next rotation, was met with the news that their paramedic duo had won the drawing for the contest. The chief himself had shown up yesterday and drawn their names. While the rest of the men applauded the news, Johnny was still a bit skeptical about the whole thing. Aside from the fact that he really didn't want his strange ability spread around the fire stations like wildfire, he thought the top brass had picked a strange idea for the contest. But the other men's enthusiasm, plus their strong confidence that the 51's men had an excellent chance at winning the event, kept his mouth shut. He fervently hoped that they wouldn't be too disappointed if the whole thing blew up in their faces.

"When does the contest start, Cap?" Roy asked, after the news of the winning draw was delivered during roll call. They were still standing in the bay, circled around their leader.

Hank Stanley flipped through the several pages of paper he had attached to a clipboard. "It says here, it will start next Monday and run for four shifts. So that means…"

He looked up at the ceiling, calculating their days on and off. "You guys will actually start on Monday morning, since we were lucky with this rotation and have our days off over the weekend. Obviously that's the "A" shifts start of the contest; if any of the other paramedic or rescue teams are on the "B" or "C" shifts throughout all the other stations they will start Tuesday or Wednesday and run through their four shifts accordingly."

Roy nodded in understanding and looked over at Gage, who had wandered over to the map and was staring at it, eyes narrowed in concentration. He moved over to his side as the rest of the men dispersed to start their assignments. "So what do you think? Should we go out this weekend and take a look around? Make sure we have updated information on everything?"

Johnny shook himself loose from his focused contemplation and shifted his attention over to his partner. "Sure, why not, I guess you should drive so that I can navigate, just like the contest, huh?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," Roy conceded, thinking that maybe he would drive JoAnne's station wagon just to throw Johnny off balance. Nah, that would be downright cruel, depriving Gage of a chance to cruise around in the sports car; plus he was the one pushing his rather reluctant friend to participate in the contest. "I'll pick up you up on Saturday around ten, and after we get done we'll get something to eat."

"Good deal," Johnny agreed amicably, and went back around the front of the squad to begin the morning calibrations and supply check. "You got some kind of notebook or something like that at home, in case I want to take any notes?"

"I'm sure I can find something."

Roy joined him at the compartment doors and pulled down the drug box. He unlatched it and flipped the lid open, gazing down at the contents without really seeing them. The sound of Johnny conversing with Dixie over the biophone broke his reverie and he hastily started the inventory.

"You seem kinda distracted…what's bugging you?"

"Me?" Roy asked, slightly startled by the pair of legs that appeared beside his crouching position. Apparently Johnny was already finished with the calibrations and had shelved the radio back in the truck's compartment.

"No, not you, I was talking to Stoker's baby over there," he quipped, pointing at the Ward gleaming next to them. "I think she's a little more attentive then you are; I've asked you the same question twice."

"Oh, well, I was just thinking about this weekend, having it off and all, and of course the contest. Any idea of what charity you want to donate your money to?"

"Roy, what's our number one rule around here?

Snapping the box closed, Roy stood up and turned sideways to hide his smile, and hefted it back into its slot. He knew perfectly well what John was talking about but figured a little payback was needed. "Don't get involved with the patients…"

"Ha ha ha, that's our paramedic rule, not the firehouse rule. Ya don't jinx things by talking about them, especially around mealtime. Speaking of meals, you want a cup of coffee before we start on our chores?"

"Sure, why…" his reply was cut off by the strident tones blaring through the bay, followed by the voice of an unknown dispatcher. Johnny slammed the compartment door closed and Roy trotted around the front of their vehicle, accepting the call slip from Stanley and grabbing his blue jacket from the hood where he had tossed it.

Roy turned the key in the ignition, flipped on lights and sirens and pulled forward after handing the paper over to his partner. He turned left out of the station.

"Sounded like a new dispatcher," he commented over the wailing noise of their siren.

"Yeah, but his voice sounds familiar for some reason," Johnny said, slapping the call slip onto the visor and flipping it back up. He shifted his helmet on his head and laid his right arm along the track of the opened window, giving the new dispatcher's identity only a moment of thought before concentrating on their surroundings.

-XxxxxxxxxxxxxxX-

Within the headquarters of the Los Angeles County Fire Department, Sam Lanier rolled backwards in his chair and rubbed a hand along his jaw in thought. The new guy seemed to be doing fine; he followed directions well, had the procedures down, and appeared to be quick thinking and able to make fast decisions. Yet there was just something about him that made Sam a bit uneasy. It wasn't something he could put his finger on but still….he could only hope that it was imagination or that whatever it was that was bugging him would resolve itself or turn out to be nothing at all.

Charles Winston flipped a switch on the panel and then swung around in his chair to direct a huge grin at the veteran dispatcher. He had the bronzed skin and bleached blond hair of a surfer that had spent many hours at the beach and in the salt water. He also had perfect manners, a friendly and outgoing personality, and what was visible of his lean physique showed toned muscles. So how had he ended up here as a dispatcher? He'd been a firefighter for a few years, actually over five if Sam's information was correct; it was pretty rare for one of those adrenaline and action loving guys to make a move to the quieter, but just as important communications job. Strangely enough, Sam hadn't heard any of the usual gossip concerning this, and hadn't worked with the fellow long enough to ask any personal questions. And Charles definitely had not volunteered his reasons behind the career change.

"Say, Mr. Lanier, how am I doing so far? It seems kinda slow, or maybe it's because I was always on the receiving end of the radio?" He flashed his amazingly white teeth, and all Sam could think was that the guy must not drink a lot of coffee, another unusual thing about the a man that used to ride a truck. All the men that Sam knew, and he knew a lot of them, that worked the twenty four hour shifts drank gallons of the teeth staining stuff.

"Just fine, Charles, and yes, a little slower than usual, but that's a good thing." He paused a second to see if the man was going to agree to the comment or add his own take on it, but Charles just kept on grinning and swung back around to face the control panel. Sam shook his head and rolled his chair back alongside of him.

The new dispatcher instantly let his wide smile fade to a blank look as he stared down at the papers in front of him. As soon as he heard the old man squeak his chair alongside of him, he pasted an interested expression back on. He already knew all he needed to know about this ridiculous and boring job, and was just biding his time until his connection came through with that fire department up in Northern California. In fact, if he hadn't blown most of his money on that stupid witch of a woman, he would have blown this town many months ago. Then again, he wouldn't have had to transfer out; she was the only reason he was sitting in this stupid chair, and not out pulling hose or exchanging barbs with the guys he thought were his friends.

Hearing Lanier get up and move towards the other side of the room, Charles let his lips curl into a snarl of contempt. He knew that overbearing, know it all Negro was just dying to find out why he was working in here. Well, he could just stuff his curiosity back into the hole because it wasn't going to be satisfied by him! One of the terms of his so called "continuing employment" with the county was that he would keep his mouth shut, and they in turn would do the same. As if he was going to go around and tell people that he had been basically pushed out of his station because the men refused to work with him! A bunch of self-righteous fakers his crew had been; all along pretending to be his friend but when a little bit of gossip had wafted about, they had all turned on him and wouldn't believe his innocence.

Well, they could all just go and jump in the lake for all he cared, because the first day he had worked here he had realized something. The fire department had made a big mistake in dropping him into this position; it was the perfect place to exact revenge. If done correctly, no one would be the wiser. And with this little contest that the big chiefs were implementing, it would be a piece of cake to wreak havoc on certain men that deserved it. And the ones that had started it, that paramedic team over at Station 51, they were going to be the ones he was going to target first, particularly that dark haired one. The others, if he got to them, would be collateral damage. But that dago, spic, Indian, or whatever he was would pay dearly for ruining his life….

TBC