Chapter 4

Roy pulled the squad to a stop near the overturned green sedan. It was lying on its roof, the windows shattered from the crushing impact. It appeared that the driver had over-corrected when she ran off the edge of the road, resulting in a rollover. The two paramedics quickly jumped into action, pulling on their turnouts and gloves. Johnny, being the thinner of the two, immediately began to crawl into the narrow opening of the rear driver's side window to determine if this was a rescue or a recovery. The young driver was crumpled on the roof of the vehicle, her right arm bleeding profusely. Johnny heard her soft moans and immediately began his assessment. Roy began removing equipment he thought would be needed. As Gerald positioned the engine to protect the scene, Chet disembarked and rushed over to the wreckage while Pete jogged over to the squad to help Roy with the equipment.

"Gonna need the jaws, Cap," Chet called out, returning to assist Gerald with the heavy equipment.

Pete set the biophone down, watching as Captain Stanley set it up with practiced ease. "Rampart, this is squad 51…"

Roy set down the black boxes in a clear space between the squad and car, listening to the information being relayed to Dr. Brackett by his captain. "Pete, we're gonna need a blanket," he commented to the lineman. He then ducked his head down enough to see inside the vehicle. "What do you need, Johnny?"

"Ahh, Kerlix and a C-collar," Johnny replied over his shoulder as he turned his attention to his patient. "My name's Johnny. That's my partner Roy I'm talkin' to, out there. We're from the fire department, and we're here to help ya out, a'right?"

"Umm, 'k," came the soft feminine reply.

Roy passed the requested supplies through the window to Johnny. The younger man accepted the C-collar first, explaining his actions to his frightened patient as he secured it to immobilize her neck. He then took the roll of Kerlix and began wrapping it around the gaping cut on her arm while he tried to count her respiration rate.

Johnny felt her trembling beneath his touch and knew he had to calm her down before she began to hyperventilate. "What's your name?"

"Ab-bey," she sniffled.

"Well, Abbey, we're gonna have you outta here in just a few minutes," he replied, nonchalantly.

"You need tape, Johnny?" Roy asked, feeling the broken glass crunching beneath his weight as he kneeled down beside the crumpled vehicle.

"No," Johnny said, lying on his side on the roof of the vehicle. The space around him was cramped with twisted metal poking him at every turn. "I'm just gonna tie it off," he explained, pulling up a strip of gauze to create the loop needed to tie it tightly around the bleeding wound on the driver's forearm. He returned his attention to his whimpering patient, trying to soothe her uneasiness. "Jus' take it easy; everything's gonna be a'right."

"Pete's getting you an asbestos blanket," Roy informed his partner just as Dr. Brackett's voice squawked out of the biophone.

"51, do you have any vitals?"

"Negative, Rampart. Victim is still entrapped. We should have her out in a couple of minutes," Roy reported back, seeing Pete drop an asbestos blanket near his feet then trotting back to the engine to help with the Jaws of Life. Roy set the biophone receiver down, preparing to further assist with the extrication. "Okay, Johnny... Can you reach it?" The senior medic called out as he unfolded the blanket and pushed it through the opening.

"Yea," Johnny responded, feeling the sweat running down his forehead and dripping off his nose as he maneuvered the protective blanket into position. He heard the crying sounds coming from the young woman. "Heeeyyy, it's all gonna be over in just a minute. Now, I'm gonna put this over us in case there's any glass breaking." He covered the sniffling teenager with the blanket, being careful not to put any more pressure on her injured arm than was absolutely necessary.

"It… Hu-hurts…"

"I know, it does. I know it does. My partner and I are gonna take good care of ya just as soon as my friends get us outta here. Now, it's gonna get real loud, but don't be afraid."

"P-please… Don't le-leave me."

Johnny's heart broke when he heard her pleading voice. "I won't, sweetheart. I promise, I won't."

"Hey, Gage?" Chet called out.

"YEA?"

"You ready?"

"Close your eyes, Abbey, and let me and my friends here do all the work," Johnny said softly, curling his body protectively around his victim as best he could.

"Mmmm," Abbey moaned, trembling in fear as she lay awkwardly against the paramedic's chest.

"A'right, Chet… Go ahead!" He called out, feeling the girl flinch when the Jaws of Life were cranked up. "Ssshhh," he soothed, knowing that she couldn't hear his attempts to comfort her. He squeezed his eyes closed, preventing the stinging rivulets of sweat from interfering with his vision.

Chet donned the goggles as he held the extrication equipment in both hands, tensing his muscles as he positioned the equipment into the narrow opening. It tore through the wreckage as if it were nothing more than melted butter. With the popping and creaking of the metal, the opening began to widen. Roy, Hank, and the two replacements watched the drama unfold as the gap opened up until it was wide enough to remove the injured girl.

When Johnny heard the machine cut off, he spoke up. "Okay… Now, we can get you outta this sardine can. A'right, don't move. Remember what I tol' ya. Let us do all the work."

"Johnny," Roy called out, receiving the backboard from Gerald and Pete. He waited for the asbestos blanket to be pulled away from his partner and their patient before he continued. "Here's the backboard."

Johnny glanced at his partner as he accepted one end of the thin board. Neither man needed to speak as they swiftly and carefully transferred their victim onto the backboard, tightening the straps to hold her securely in place. Gerald and Pete positioned themselves on each side, pulling the board out far enough for Roy and Chet to grab the other end. Johnny's arms were quivering from fatigue as he passed Abbey off to his shift mates. "A'right, Abbey, here ya go… Easy, now."

"I got her, John," Hank called out, picking up the weight of the board near the girl's head as the four men carried her away from the carnage, and set her down near the squad.

Roy began speaking softly to his terrified victim. "Abbey, right? How old are you, Abbey?" He asked, repeatedly using her name as a means of calming her anxiety.

"Eigh-teen," she sniffled, squinting into the bright morning sunlight.

Pete stood over her, removing his helmet and using it to cast a shadow over her face, shielding her eyes from the discomfort of the sun.

Chet crawled to the edge of the wreckage, reaching inside the remains of the green sedan. "Need a hand?"

"Yea…," the thin paramedic called out, slapping his ungloved hand into his friend's palm. Johnny felt the strength of their camaraderie as he was helped out of the pile of twisted metal. "Ugh," he groaned, using his feet to push himself out on his back. He felt Chet grab him by the hook on his collar, and pull him the rest of the way out. "Ungh," he grunted, using Chet's assistance to return to a standing position, taking a moment to stretch out his aching back. "Thanks, Pally."

A few feet away, Roy continued his assessment. "Okay, just look at the numbers on my helmet. Does this hurt?" he asked, using his pen light to check her pupillary response.

"No," Abbey said softly. "Just my arm hurts."

Johnny kneeled down beside the biophone, waiting for his partner to call out Abbey's vitals. "Rampart, this is squad 51. How do you read?"

"Loud and clear. Go ahead, 51," Dr. Brackett responded, relieved that his patient had apparently been removed from the damaged vehicle.

In a few minutes the paramedics had their victim stabilized and packaged for transport. Roy climbed in the back of the ambulance for the ride to Rampart with Abbey, while Johnny slid into the squad to follow the departing emergency vehicle. Fortunately, the ride was a short one, and there was no need for Roy to remain with Abbey once he had made the transfer to the hospital staff. He and Johnny quickly restocked their supplies, and climbed back into the squad for the drive back to the station.

Johnny removed the microphone from its cradle. "LA, squad 51 available."

Roy stared straight ahead as he pulled to a stop at the intersection behind Rampart. Even though there was no traffic, he remained stationary prompting a smart aleck remark from Johnny.

"Uh, Roy?"

"Huh?"

Johnny snorted at the vacant look on his partner's face as the older man turned in response to his name. "You forget the way back to the station?"

Roy looked around, realizing that there was no traffic hindering his progress. "Oh… No…," he said, removing his foot from the break and easing out into the street. "I've just been thinking…"

Johnny rolled his eyes, propping his elbow on the window ledge of the squad. "Sounds dangerous."

"I'm being serious, Junior. I know you and Chet are still mad at me about this morning, and… Well, maybe I was wrong. I don't know, but…"

When he didn't continue, Johnny prodded him along. "Yea… You were wrong… But, what?"

Roy licked his lips, suddenly feeling them drying out as his breathing quickened. "Cap said something to me this morning, and I don't think he even realized he said it, but…" He cut his blue eyes over at his partner. "Mike's being investigated."

"INVESTIGATED?" Johnny questioned, raising his voice as he shifted in his seat to get a better look at Roy. "What the hell for?"

"I don't know. All he said was that Mike didn't want any of us to know about it." Roy pulled to a stop at the next light, strumming his fingers nervously along the edge of the steering wheel. "I just can't imagine Stoker being investigated for anything."

"And it's by our own damn department, not the cops, or the IRS… Or…," Johnny spoke up, rubbing his chin. "I mean, he seemed fine until the brass showed up, so…"

"Yea…," Roy mused.

Johnny pressed his lips into a thin line as the light turned green and Roy accelerated. The younger man allowed the breeze to blow his unruly hair in a multitude of directions as he contemplated telling Roy about his conversation with Chet. Deciding that Roy needed to know, he spoke up.

"Um, Chet and I were talking earlier, and he thinks this might be related to Marco's sister."

Roy pulled to a stop in front of the station, backing the squad into place. When he shifted into park, he turned to face his partner. "How so?"

"Because of… I mean, since she's a… Well, at least she was one, but now she isn't, but she was at one time, and…"

Roy shook his head, wondering how Johnny could complicate even the simplest of conversations. "She was a prostitute, Johnny. It's okay to say it."

"I know, I know," Johnny fussed, running a frustrated hand through his hair in an effort to tame it before he had to face his captain. "It's just that… It looks bad that he was involved with her, and… I mean, not involved like INVOLVED, but just involved, ya know?"

"Somehow… Yes, I do know," Roy snickered, still amused at his partner's antics. "But at the hospital that night, I understood Mike and Marco to say that Mike had rescued her from her burning apartment. That he hadn't actually had sexual relations with her or anything. He'd just been trying to help her get out of the business, and then there was the fire, and…"

"C'mon, Roy. You know how the department wants us to have a squeaky clean image. If they got wind of him spending time with a known, um,"

"Prostitute."

"Yea, that… then…"

"Then so much for the squeaky clean image," Roy answered, completing Johnny's fragmented sentence. "But, who would've known? It had to be when we were off shift. That means he wouldn't have been in uniform and he sure wasn't driving the engine… How would headquarters know what he was doing on his off time?"

Johnny stared at the beige dashboard of the squad, dumbfounded. "Humph, I dunno… But it's too much to be a coincidence. Stoker's straight as an arrow. He'd never do anything to embarrass the department or himself. So, what else could it be?"

Roy opened his door, looking over his shoulder at his partner. "I don't know. But saving a young woman in distress is what we did just a little while ago. Why should it be any different when we're off shift and the woman in distress is a prostitute? Their lives are just as valuable as anyone else's."

Johnny's mind flashed back to a time when he had witnessed firsthand one person's life being valued less than another's, and he shivered involuntarily. "Yea…," he mumbled, slamming the squad door shut, ambling toward the kitchen. "Yea…"

E!

Mike made the turn onto the long, narrow dusty road, scrub brush covering the land in all directions. He began his assent along the winding road headed for the upper level of the small mountain range. Johnny had shown him this particular spot a couple of years earlier when the two of them had been camping. Its primary feature was a large oak tree surrounded by various species of evergreens. The old tree appeared to be a sentinel guarding the land and all who found refuge beneath its branches.

That thought sent his mind reeling back to Alexia Lopez. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the young woman out of his mind. Now, he wondered if perhaps he was going to be uprooted by the fire department for trying to be her protector, her sentinel guard. He wondered how she was doing, wishing he could've talked to her before his visit from the Fire Marshall and arson investigator. His last image of her crying in pain, lashing out against her own brother in fear, had haunted him day and night for the last week. He needed to see her healing, recovering, maybe even smiling. But mostly, he just wanted to see her, talk to her, and help her understand that not all men treated women the way she had been treated. He wanted her to know what it was like to have a casual and friendly relationship with a man who wouldn't strike her, threaten her, or abuse her; a man who wouldn't push a few dollars her way in exchange for a disgusting sex act performed in some filthy back alley or dirty hotel room. He wanted her to feel the warmth of a real man's protective embrace, instead of the cold reality of the harsh life she had been living on the streets.

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, causing his pick-up to careen sideways as it rumbled to a stop. He looked around at the dust cloud as the wind blew it away from the front of his vehicle. As his vision cleared, so did his mind. He wanted to see Alexia for another reason, too. A reason he was only now beginning to see, and still wasn't able to understand. During the weeks he had spent trying to help her, even though he knew all about her past and what she had done to survive during those years away from home, it had still happened. He had fallen in love with her.

E!

By the time the evening meal was served, Alexia had said goodbye to her mother and brother. She had set her few belongings in the chest of drawers near her twin bed, placing Antonio's pictures on top so he would be the first person she saw in the morning and the last person she saw at night. He was the reason she was here, and she was determined to do whatever it took to return to him.

"Have you seen him, yet?"

Alexia looked across the table at Bri. She shook her head in response to her roommate's question. "No… Maybe in a day or two I'll be able to meet him." She watched as the other ladies took their seats around the table. The meal was served like a family dinner. The food was arranged in the center of the table and everyone sitting around it held out their hands. At first, Alexia didn't understand, but the memories of growing up in a large family came back quickly. She extended her own hands, gently grasping the hands of those on either side of her. Together they bowed their heads. It was Cha-Cha's turn to say grace. When the prayer ended, she felt the gentle squeeze of her hands by the others and swiftly returned the gesture. Soon, the food was being passed around the table, everyone enjoying the meal and the fellowship with each other. The founders of The Wellhouse understood the need for the women to learn to trust again, and they knew that each one did so at her own pace. There was no pressure, no forced religious studies, but the hope and the promise of a new life surrounded the six ladies who now called this small house home. It would wrap around them like a warm blanket, and curl up protectively beside them as they lay alone in their beds at night. They were safe, secure, protected, fed and sheltered, and for the first time in a very long time, they were not alone in their fight against the evil in the world. They had each other from whom to draw strength and courage, and to dry their tears when the nightmares seemed so real. Helping the new ladies navigate their way through the treacherous minefield of leaving their pimps, was one of the best ways for the older residents to heal themselves. It gave them a sense of pride and purpose. They could speak to each other about things that no one else understood. They were a sisterhood, born out of the devil's loins, made stronger by the test of fire, and better able to face whatever their future may hold for them.

Alexia ate her food in silence, listening to the chatter going on around her. This was real life. This was how things were supposed to be. This was what she wanted for the rest of her days. She wanted to feel like she belonged. She wanted to return to her family, to be a mother to her son, and… She wanted to know what it felt like to truly be an investment, not just a cheap rental.

E!

As darkness fell upon Station 51, Chet squirmed restlessly in his seat. His mind was a whirlwind. Johnny and Roy had asked to speak to him privately in the dorm, but the squad had been toned out before they were able to have their discussion. He knew it was about Mike and based on the way Johnny and Roy were interacting, Roy had to have changed his mind about the situation. Maybe he had even agreed to help Chet and Johnny figure out what was wrong and try to fix it. The young lineman picked at the ends of his mustache as the others settled down to watch a movie. He didn't expect the squad to return for at least half an hour which would give him plenty of time to do what he had to do. He kept looking at the clock, wanting the time to pass by quickly, and yet, not wanting to know the answer to the question he had planned to ask during a man to man phone call. What would he do if his request was rejected?

As soon as the popcorn bowl passed by him, he stood up. "Hey, Cap?"

"Sit down, Kelly. The movie's just starting," Hank ordered in his most paternal sounding voice.

"I need to make a personal phone call. Mind if I use your office?"

Hank cut his eyes at the young lineman. "Why can't you use the one in the dorm, you twit? None of us care what you say to Caroline."

"No, sir. It isn't Caroline I'm calling. It's a long distance call, but I'll charge it to my house phone. Please, Cap?" Chet pleaded, shoving his hands into his pockets like a scolded little boy.

The opening credits rolled across the screen, pulling Hank's hazel eyes back to the television set. "Oh, go ahead. Just don't be too long."

"No, sir. I won't. Thanks, Cap," he said appreciatively. He quickly pushed through the dayroom door and rushed to the captain's office. He had to do this now before he chickened out. He closed the door, then sat down at the desk, fishing the small piece of paper from his shirt pocket. After making payment arrangements with the operator, he leaned forward with his elbow on the desk, his right leg bouncing uncontrollably as the phone began to ring on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Um, uh, hi, Mrs. Marks. This is Chet, is…"

"Ohmygod, is something wrong? What's wrong with our girls?" Mim asked in a panicky voice. It had been over a year and a half since she'd received the news of the accident that nearly claimed the life of her only grandchild and her daughter-in-law, yet time had not softened the pain of her near loss.

Chet silently chastised himself for faltering in his opening remarks. "Oh, no ma'am, nothing's wrong. Both Caroline and Corrie are just fine. They're at home now. I'm on shift. I just, ah… I was wonderin' if maybe… Well, is Mr. Marks available?" He stammered, shifting nervously in his seat.

"Oh… Yes, just a moment please," she said softly, covering up the receiver to call for her husband.

Chet ran his fingers over his sweat-laden brow. He felt his stomach churn as he heard a deep voice in the background, although the words sounded muffled with the receiver covered by Mim's hand.

"Yes, Chester? This is Gregory. What's going on?"

Chet wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Mim's voice whispering harshly at her husband. He heard Greg clear his throat, softening the tone of his voice.

"Ah, is there something I can help you with, Chet?" The older man asked, his voice much more gentle after his ribs sustained a poke from his wife's pointed elbow.

"Ah, yessir, well, see. I–I'd really rather do this in person, but you're up in Fresno and I'm here in LA and there's just no way that I could get up there, especially since I'm on shift and all…"

Greg rolled his eyes, covering his mouth with his free hand to keep from laughing into the phone. He really enjoyed making Chet nervous, and he was able to do it without even really trying. He had hoped that a little healthy fear might be a good thing for Chet's relationship with Caroline. He had to admit that he hated the heartache he felt when he had first met Chet. The younger man had been sitting on the floor with Corrie in his lap playing with her on her birthday. It had broken his heart as he thought of how his own son should have been playing with his daughter instead of lying in a cold, dark grave, a casualty of the Vietnam War. He was brought back to the telephone conversation when Chet finally began to speak in complete sentences.

"Anyway, I just… I know this is kinda old fashioned and all, but… See, Mr. Marks…"

"Greg."

"Um, yea, Greg. Anyway, Greg, I just wanted to tell you that I know you think of Caroline as your daughter and all, and I know that Corrie is your granddaughter and, and…"

"Chet…," Greg grinned as he spoke. "I'm fully aware of my relationship to them. Is there something you're trying to ask me?" Greg could tell by the nervousness in the young man's voice that he had something serious on his mind. He and Mim had already discussed the possibility and both agreed that it would make them happy if it happened.

"Uh, yessir, see… I really do love Caroline and Corrie, and I know I'm just a public servant, and I know it's a dangerous job and all, but I'm really careful, and I know I don't make much money, but I'm studying for the engineer's exam and that would improve my paycheck, and…"

"Chet?"

"And, I'll do my best to take good care of them, and I'll provide…"

"CHESTER!"

"Oh, um, y-yessir?"

"If you're asking for our blessing, then I can save you the trouble. You already have our approval and blessing, even though you and Caroline are both adults and you don't need it. Mim and I appreciate the gesture more than you could ever possibly know," Greg said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around his loving wife. "So, I think you need to be talking to Caroline about this. Am I right?"

Chet released a loud sigh of relief into the phone. He was elated by what he had just been told. He jumped up from the chair, the sudden movement jerking the handset out of his hand in the process. It crashed to the desk then fell onto the floor, with Chet following close behind trying to catch it. "Oh, um, sorry sir, I dropped the phone and… I… Thank you, sir…"

"Greg," the older man snickered.

"Greg," Chet exclaimed, his smile stretching across his face. "Thank you Greg, and please tell Mim I said thanks to her, too."

"You take care of our girls, alright?"

"Yes. Sir," Chet proclaimed proudly.

"And be sure to let us know when the big event will be." Secretly, Greg hoped that he would be asked to participate as Caroline's father, even though he wasn't her biological father. That thought gripped his heart twisting it. He had been so hard on Chet this whole time, and yet, his own relationship with Caroline would be exactly like Chet's might be with Corrie. Greg loved Caroline as if she were his own flesh and blood. Now, he fully believed that his granddaughter would soon have a healthy relationship with a wonderful father figure in her own life.

"Yessir, we will…. Um…" The young Irishman suddenly felt his mouth go dry once more. "Ah… Ugh."

"Is there a problem, Chet?" Greg asked, his voice laced with concern at the sound of Chet's downtrodden groaning.

"Yea… Maybe… I mean, what if she says no?"

"Well, young man…," Greg continued, doing nothing to lower Chet's anxiety level. "I guess you'll just have to ask yourself if she's worth the risk."