"A First Time for Everything"
Chapter Two
"Baryshnikov is a who," Roy remarked, after riding along for a full five minutes in complete silence, "not a what." He saw the 'And what does all this have to do with the price of tea in China?' look on his silent passenger's face, and continued. "Mikhail Baryshnikov is a world-renowned Russian dancer. I called you Baryshnikov because of that comment our loopy groupie made about the ballet. Forget it," DeSoto suggested, seeing he'd failed to change the look on his friend's face. "The name-calling business is obviously no longer an issue. So—and I anticipate that I am going to regret asking this, but —why are you being so quiet over there?"
"I dunno," his quiet comrade confessed. "I was just thinking about what that kid said. You know…about how nothing rattles us anymore. Do you think he's right? Do you think maybe we really have seen it all?"
DeSoto's right eyebrow arched and his mouth dropped open to comment, but the Squad's radio started 'bleeping' just then, and interrupted his reply.
"Station 51...Man down...Gardens Of Rest Cemetery...212 Mahogany Lane...Cross-street: Danforth Road...Two--One-Two Mahogany Lane...Time out...09:42."
"Engine 51...KMG-365," they heard their Captain say.
Gage grabbed their radio's mic'. "10-4, LA..." he acknowledged. "Squad 51 responding with Engine 51."
Roy hit the lights and siren.
John finished scribbling the call onto their log. He snatched his helmet from its clip, tossed it on his head and turned to his partner. "Did we just get called...to rescue some guy...in a graveyard?"
The Squad's driver donned his helmet and nodded uncertainly.
His perplexed passenger snapped his helmet's chinstrap and pulled it up snug. "Humph! We may be good...but we ain't that good!"
Roy's only reply was to purse his lips—rather tightly, and give his partner another sideways roll of his eyes.
TBC
