Treaty Chapter 6
Johnny and Roy exited station 51 together. Roy couldn't help but notice that his usually chatty partner seemed more subdued than normal.
"You o.k. Johnny?"
Johnny turned his head to glance at Roy. "Yeah, I guess. I'm pretty tired."
Roy nodded his agreement while continuing the trek toward his vehicle.
Midway between the station back door and his car, Johnny abruptly stopped walking.
Roy's peripheral vision noticed the cessation in motion, and he too stopped in order to turn and peer curiously at Johnny. "Johnny?" His voice held the rest of the question.
As if coming around after unconsciousness, Johnny's attention snapped back to the present. He looked from the concrete where he'd been staring, to Roy's inquisitive gaze. With a quick finger snap to punctuate his thoughts, Johnny spoke. "Ya know, I've been thinkin' about what you said about me talking to Chet. I think you're right Roy. We gotta clear the air. Besides, Rampart is a real drag when you're trapped there. I bet 'ol Chester B could use some company; and some edible food this morning. I think I'll go pick him up some breakfast, and drop by Rampart. Maybe we can chat a while."
Roy's eyebrows did one of those surprised leaps toward his hairline. "I thought you were tired?"
Johnny, in typical Gage fashion, grinned at his best friend. "Gettin' my second wind." He stated, and then he loped toward his parked Land Rover.
Roy's eyes followed Johnny's progress toward the Rover. With a small head shake, Roy too walked toward his car. "Way to go partner. I figured you'd make time to get with Chet." Roy's thoughts caused another fond grin to cross his face. Though Chet and Johnny played at being combatants, the true depth of their underlying friendship was obvious to anyone who knew the pair.
Burn cleaning and dressing are, at best, an uncomfortable process. During the ordeal, Chet was ever so grateful he'd been given something to smooth away at least some of the rougher edges of the unpleasant ordeal. Even after the nurse had finished cleaning, and reapplied soothing ointment, Chet's burns bitterly protested the intrusion by sending out white hot pain signals that reverberated through Chet's entire body. The raw wounds felt more like they were actually on fire now then they had when he'd originally received the injuries.
When the torment finally ended, Chet was left alone to recover. He stared up at the ceiling while trying not to feel his complaining body. At some point, he dozed…
"Harsh sunlight glinted off savage terrain. Glancing into the distance, the heat seemed to make the horizon shimmer and dance. Beads of sweat dripped from Chet's hair, rolling in salty trails down his neck and back. Perspiration trickled from his thick brows to bathe his eyes in stinging irritation.
Chet removed his hat, and wiped his brow with the back of a dusty arm. He'd heard something rumbling in the distance? Or was there something wrong with the look of the land around him? He vainly attempted to suss out the reason for his unease, but his heat addled brain couldn't fathom what had stopped him in his trek across the windswept dessert landscape.
Allowing his fingers to rest on the horn of his worn leather saddle, Chet's eyes searched the surrounding hills. Something was amiss. He could feel it in his bones. But what was it that felt off? He sighed heavily.
Spying no apparent trouble, Chet shrugged his shoulders, and placed his hat atop bushy curls once again. Perhaps his imagination was running away with him. He made a mental note to keep watch anyway, just in case. Having set things right in his mind, Chet spurred his steed onward. A cloud of reddish-brown dust grew in his wake. High atop a distant hill ominous shadows loomed.
Chet rode on. Rugged landscape dotted with scrub brush and cacti seemed to be his infinity. He could tell he was riding into a valley, yet he was not close enough to the gorge to view the vista that likely lay below. As he traveled, he sang softly to himself to wIle away the time. Occasionally he would take a sip from the dwindling water supply in his canteen.
His awareness of the rough blue jeans and leather chaps he wore began to dramitically increase as time passed. He became acutely aware of the area of his body where his legs met his saddle. Chet noticed his inner thighs were beginning to smart unpleasantly. It almost felt like the friction from the chaffing materials were acting like flint on steel, creating sparks that threatened to roast his man parts. Chet squirmed uncomfortably in the saddle. Even the backs of his legs, in the bends of his knees, were rubbed raw from the constant scratching of the rough denims he wore. He really needed to get to a good place to bed down for the night. A nice cool river or stream would be a wonderful thing to find in what he knew must be the upcoming valley.
There was nothing to be done for the pain, so Chet continued to ride. He distracted himself mindlessly with hummed or sung tunes. While he traveled and sang, Chet's mind drifted.
Chet had no idea how long he had ridden, but suddenly he became aware his singing had percussive accompaniment. Reigning in his horse, Chet stopped upon the trail. In the distance he could hear a rhythmic drumming. Thub, thub, thub, thub, thub thub, thub…."
With a renewed sense of purpose, Johnny pulled his Rover into the parking lot of a nearby fast food joint. Glancing at his wristwatch, he noticed it was almost eleven o'clock. "It's a little late for breakfast. Maybe I'll just pick us up something tasty that isn't typical breakfast food." He pondered. After a moment of contemplation, Johnny grinned. He knew exactly what Chet would enjoy. With a happy smile, he hopped from his truck, and went to the take out window to place his order.
After a brief wait, Johnny took two white bags from the clerk at the fast food joint, and stashed them carefully in his floorboard. With extra caution, he steered his vehicle through mid morning traffic toward Rampart.
Arriving at Rampart a short time later, Johnny parked outside Emergency, and with food in tow, trotted through the double doors. After a brief stop to confer with Dixie, Johnny headed straight for the burn ward.
A set of double doors lead into the burn ward. When Johnny arrived, the doors were open, and he noticed a man running a floor buffer inside the spotless white hallway. The rhythmic sounds of the buffer pads spinning as the machine polished the floor next to the base boards in the hallway was a harsh contrast to the almost austere silence of the ward.
Johnny shook his shaggy head in sympathy for his friend. Hospitals are such noisy places. He'd just bet the sounds of that buffer slapping against the wall would drive some poor patient, who was trying to sleep, stark raving nuts!
Johnny smiled politely at the maintenance worker running the floor machine. The guy was just doing his job. Walking past the giant noise maker, Johnny shrugged his shoulders while thinking, "Looks to me like they'd figure out a quieter way to get this stuff done." But he realized the floors had to be cleaned. At least they weren't doing the noisy job during the night.
After a brief search, Johnny located Chet's room. He knocked softly before gently opening the door. Peering inside, he noticed the room was very brightly lit. Having spent way too much time in Rampart, Johnny would just bet someone came in to do patient care, and carelessly forgot to turn the overhead lights off.
Chet lay squirming frantically in bed. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping, but his body was in constant motion. It almost looked as if Chet were fighting for his life in his dreams. The guy looked terrified!
"Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud….. The drums got closer and closer. The sound of those native signals grew in volume until they seemed to vibrate every cell in Chet's body.
He saw them then. Dark shadows atop the hills around him were closing in. Vague silhouettes morphed into adorned riders. Heavily armed, sinuous braves bore down upon him.
Chet spurred his horse to a gallop. Dust rolled in boiling clouds from the shadowy figures as they too began to push their horses to gallop. They were chasing him!
Faster, faster... he had to get away. Spurred heels dug relentlessly into his horse's galloping sides. But try as he might, Chet could not get the exhausted animal to move any faster. Panting and sweating, he struggled.
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud….. They were gaining on him! He could hear the heavy respirations of their horses now. Sweat rolled from Chet's every pore.
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud….. Sounds of horses hooves mixed and melded with native war drums. He wasn't going to make it! They were going to catch him!
Then it happened. Strong hands grasped his upper arms, holding him in place. He tried desperately to sit up. He had to get away! Then he smelled something. Was that fire? "Oh My God! They are going to burn me alive!" He could smell charred meat. Was that his body roasting on a spit? His thighs and genitals sung with scorching agony as the flames leapt at them, searing and cooking. He struggled to get away, but his arms were held fast!"
Hastily Johnny laid the food he'd brought on the table next to Chet's bed. Instinctively, he attempted to corral the man's frantic motions. Placing a hand firmly on Chet's upper arms, Johnny leaned over the bed and tried to rouse his sleeping friend.
Suddenly, blue eyes popped open and met brown. Chet let out a terrified wail.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
His eyes met deep brown eyes. They were exotic native eyes! Thick dark hair and an angular tanned face left little doubt of heritage. Chet struggled mightily to escape.
"Whoa there Chet…." Johnny crooned. "Come on buddy, wake up for me." Johnny gently shook his friend's body.
Chet thrashed his head back and forth vainly attempting to escape those deep brown eyes that seemed to be boring into his tortured soul.
"Shhhh….. Take it easy Chet. It's all right." Johnny wouldn't let the frantic man go. "Come on, wake up for me Chester."
Recognition slowly dawned in Chet's blue eyes. He stopped struggling, glancing around in a dazed manner.
"That's it." Johnny comforted. "Man, you must'a been having some kind'a dream!"
"Gage?" Chet swallowed hard. His mouth felt dry. "It was awful!"
Johnny grinned, finally releasing the hold he'd had on his buddie,s arms. "I'd guess so. You'll have to tell me about it sometime."
At that moment, the door to the hospital room abruptly crashed open. The ward nurse had apparently heard Chet's scream. Glancing cautiously around the room, she took in the sight of the two men in the room. Nothing seemed amiss, yet she felt it was her duty to inquire. "Mr. Kelly, are you all right?"
A deep crimson blush grew from Chet's neck up to his ears, and into his cheeks. "Uh…yeah." He answered sheepishly. "Um….Er…. I'm fine. Sorry if I scared ya'."
The nurse looked to Johnny for confirmation. Johnny smiled brilliantly, and offered an affirming nod. "I think I walked in on what had to be a very intense nightmare."
After giving her patient a visual once over, the nurse nodded. "O.K.? Mr. Kelly, if you're sure you are all right, I'll leave you two to visit."
Chet nodded. He was embarrassed, but not wanting any more of the sleep inducing analgesic, he didn't have any desire to let her know his burns were indeed bothering him.
When the nurse had gone, Chet's attention turned to Johnny. "You just now getting' off shift?"
Johnny grinned. "Yup. Thought I'd stop by here and have a little brunch with ya, before I went home. You hungry?"
Now Chet grinned. "Oh man! I am starved! The stuff they feed a guy around here could be lethal!"
Johnny laughed while beginning to unpack the bags of food. "Yeah, I know. It's pretty awful."
Chet rubbed his hands together expectantly. "So, what'd ya' bring me?"
Johnny favored the phantom with a brilliant smile, and with a flourish produced the first of several neatly wrapped parcels. Handing it over to Chet, he waited for what he figured would be an expression of delight.
Eagerly Chet unwrapped the package he'd been handed. When paper had been cleared away enough for him to see what lay beneath; he stopped, and with wide eyes looked up at Johnny. Lying within the clean white folds of the food wrapper was a weiner seared to the point of carmelization, encased in a fluffy bun, slathered with chilli. Johnny had brought him chilli dogs! (GULP!)