"High On Morgan Towers"
Chapter Two
The three 1,500 foot Morgan Towers could be seen—on a smog-free day—from practically every viewing point in Station 51's little corner of LA County.
Within a matter of minutes, the Morgan Towers Road sign appeared.
Squad 51's driver turned east onto the black topped lane and, less than a quarter mile further, Roy spotted what appeared to be the call scene.
A man in a bright yellow hard hat was standing in the middle of an enormous paved parking lot, alternately waving his arms…and pointing skyward.
Roy braked to a halt and cut the lights and siren.
"I told him not to do it! I told him!" the arm waver informed the two firemen as they exited their rescue truck, and kept right on pointing up.
The paramedics shielded their eyes against the sun's brilliant glare and looked up…and up…and up to where their semi-hysterical host was pointing. Both Gage and DeSoto whistled softly.
More than three-quarters of the way to the top of the middle tower the motionless figure of a man could be seen, dangling by a security harness.
"He went up to change the warning lights!" the guy in the hard hat continued. "I told him not to do it, but he just wouldn't listen!"
"What happened?" Roy wondered, as he and his partner began pulling various compartments open and grabbing their high rescue gear.
"I don't know, but he's wa-ay too old to be doing that sort a' thing! Maybe his heart gave out on him?"
The paramedics finished donning their security belts.
Gage threw two heavy coils of rope over his helmeted head and left shoulder, and began trotting towards the base of their victim's tower.
DeSoto did likewise.
From a distance, the Morgan Towers were pretty impressive.
Up close—their enormous size was downright intimidating!
The rescuers reached the middle tower's base.
A security guard waved them through a gate in the foundation's fenced in perimeter.
"I'll go first," John volunteered as they approached the ladder. "You stop half-way up. I'll lower him to you. You lower him to 16's."
Roy nodded his approval of his partner's proposed plan of action.
Gage climbed the six steps that led up to the ladder's first rung and then carefully started scaling the giant erector set.
The climbing was easy and, in no time at all, the first fireman found himself several hundred feet above the ground.
'I sure hope they have a good maintenance crew,' the climber thought, as he latched onto yet another rung.
Approaching sirens could be heard over the sound of the wind rushing past his ears. The coils of rope were becoming increasingly heavy and the muscles in his arms and shoulders were really beginning to burn, so the lead rescuer decided he'd better take a breather.
John clipped his security belt to a ladder rung and looked down.
Roy had chosen to stop and rest his aching arms, as well. His partner was perched about 150 rungs down from him.
Five hundred and some feet below, a tiny little fire engine—and another, even smaller, rescue squad—pulled up and parked alongside their teeny-looking vehicle. The sirens ceased their wailing, and itty-bitty bodies began exiting the trucks.
'They look like toys!' the resting paramedic mused. 'I'll have to remember to tell Mike that Big Red don't look so big from up here,' he told himself. "Enough sight-seeing!" he spoke into the wind.
John unclipped his safety clamp and started climbing again.
It was becoming a bit breezier, and the tower was starting to sway slightly, so he gripped the rungs a little tighter.
At the thousand-foot level, Gage secured himself to another rung, to give his complaining limbs another break, and his oxygen starved lungs another breather.
The panting paramedic kept his gaze level, this time, and took in the awesome site's awesome sights.
LA County was experiencing a rare relatively smog-free day, and the already breathless climber found his unrestricted view to be even more breathtaking!
Straight ahead, he could see Rampart. From where the fireman stood—the huge hospital looked like an architect's model.
To his left, a pretty blue Pacific Ocean stretched endlessly off to the horizon.
To his right, were the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's. A few of the mountain range's snow-capped peaks were even visible from that altitude. Though, he could barely make them out through the thin brown haze.
The tower's tourist unclipped and began the last leg of his lo-ong exhausting climb.
At around fourteen hundred and some feet up the tower, the lead rescuer finally reached their still-not-stirring victim.
The paramedic climbed right level with the completely motionless man and clipped his clamp securely to the ladder.
Even though he knew he wouldn't fall, John still had an incredibly difficult time releasing the ladder's rung, to perform his initial patient survey.
'No respirations…no pulse…pupils fixed and dilated…' he mentally noted, and then solemnly said, "Dead."
With the sense of urgency now gone, the weary rescuer allowed himself to rest—once more.
The body retriever then tied his two coils of rope together. Gage wrapped a loose end around a ladder rung a few times and then secured it to the dead man's safety harness. "HEADS UP!" he shouted into the wind. Then he un-slung both of his heavy burdens and allowed them to drop.
Seven hundred some feet below, his partner couldn't hear the warning.
However, DeSoto saw the uncoiling line coming, and ducked.
The rope smacked his helmet and continued its rapid descent for another three hundred feet or so.
Back up at over 1,400 feet above the ground…
Gage pulled his leather gloves on. The paramedic carefully lifted their victim and released the man's safety clamp.
John allowed the dead weight to rest against his legs while he finished establishing his belay.
Gage gradually eased his grip on the rope.
Slowly, it began to slip…through his gloved hands…and then around and around and around the ladder rung.
The workman's body began to descend.
After what seemed like forever, the dangling form finally reached Roy's position.
As their victim came within reach, DeSoto grabbed the guy's clamp and clipped it to the ladder.
Roy had his ropes all set to go, but first he made a quick assessment of their victim. 'No respirations…no pulse…pupils fixed and dilated,' he mentally noted and then somberly said, "Dead."
TBC
