Eddie had reached the squad car and pointed the gun through the open passenger's side window.
"You can join your dead pig of a partner," he uttered with contempt before pulling the trigger.
Two more rounds burst forth from the weapon; the loud blasts caused the young paramedic's ears to ring painfully. The sound however, was followed by a rapid succession of clicks. John Gage was not what anyone would consider a seasoned expert on firearms, but he knew enough to know a click either meant a malfunction or the guy was out of ammunition. Either way, he didn't give a damn. It was an opportunity…and he was not about to waste it. The adrenaline now surging through his body was palpable as he seized his chance; knowing it would probably be the only one. John threw the vest to the side, not even realizing if or where he had been shot. Fury was creeping into him as his assailant swore and brought the gun back with one hand, and began loading additional rounds he had retrieved from his jacket pocket into the chamber with the other. John's eyes locked in on the passenger's side door which was inches from his feet. An idea formulated in his mind as he moved his right foot forward, and hooked the tip of his shoe inside the handle of the door and tried to finagle it open.
His first attempt failed.
He looked up in time to see Eddie flick his wrist, closing the now loaded chamber of the gun. The young man's dark seedy eyes traveled back to his soon-to-be victim; a small smile appeared on his lips.
John renewed his efforts, and this time he succeeded. The door released with a soft click, and opened ever so slightly. As Eddie raised the gun yet a third time, John pulled his knees into his chest and then propelled them forward, kicking the door with everything he had. Eddie, who was standing right in front of it, was catapulted backwards; the gun flying out of his hand.
The dark haired paramedic scrambled to flip his body around, and started to exit out through the passenger door. Eddie had been taken off guard, but it was only temporary. John knew that somehow, he needed to keep the weapon away from his attacker until the other units arrived. As he crawled out of the car, he saw Eddie recovering quickly as the subject's eyes searched the area frantically for the gun. They both spied it lying in the grass a few yards away and made a diving motion for it. Eddie beat him to it, but John, his adrenaline and anger peaking, had his hands close in around Eddie's wrists. The two struggled and fought for control as the responding squads rolled up on the scene and the men bailed out of their cars.
Drew Burke watched as the red Camaro came to a screeching halt. He knew the backup units were still a distance away, and he quickly scanned and assessed the situation, trying to anticipate the suspect's actions and react accordingly. From his training and experience, he did not believe for a minute the offenders would come out with their hands up and surrender. They had been willing to risk too much in their attempt to flee. The only reason this had come to an end was because they had made a mistake…and turned onto a dead end street.
In addition to the felony stop he was now facing, Drew also had the added concern for his friend's safety. He didn't want John to get hurt, and feelings of regret washed over him like a tidal wave. Since they had been hired on their respective departments, he and John had always exchanged friendly jabs at each other about whose job was more dangerous. It was just playful banter that often existed between police and firemen. But now, Drew felt that he had more or less goaded his friend into doing this ride along. He wished nothing more than to be able to go back and change things. In retrospect, their jobs had a lot of similarities and both were dangerous; one no more than the other. The two men risked their lives for others, just in different ways. It was two sides…of the same coin.
Drew had already decided if both suspects took off, he would engage in a foot pursuit of the driver. If only one ran, he would remain at the scene to protect his friend. As the doors of the Camaro flew open, the last and worst possible scenario began to unfold. Both suspects did not flee, but turned and faced the squad car; the streetlight illuminating the guns brandished in their hands. Drew did not hesitate. He moved to open the driver's side door with his left hand, while his right un-holstered his gun.
"I'm sorry John," he called out as his pushed himself out of the car. His mind deviated for a split second as he thought of his beautiful wife…and the unborn baby whom he would probably never meet.
"I love you Pam…and our child," he choked out softly as he faced the deadly threat before him.
Carl and Eddie got off the first shots, which struck the squad car and several flew inches from the young officer. Drew raised his gun and concentrated on his front sight as he pulled the trigger. He heard the windshield getting peppered with bullets, but couldn't take his eyes from the targets in front of him to check on John. He hoped like hell his friend had dropped to the floor of the car.
And then…he felt it.
A searing pain exploded in his left thigh, which was quickly followed by two rounds that hit him in the chest. He felt the force of the bullets as they impacted and were absorbed by the ballistic vest. The young officer knew there would be bruising; but that right now was the least of his problems.
Drew fought through the pain. He knew his gun was out of ammo, and instinctively reached to his belt to retrieve a speed loader. Beads of sweat rolled down his face as the rounds dropped into the guns waiting chamber. He could see that the driver was down but the suspect was managing, with great difficulty, to hoist his weapon a final time. Drew cast aside the empty speed loader and flicked his wrist to ready the weapon. As he lifted his arm to re-engage, a shot resonated in the air during the brief silence of the mêlée, hitting him in the neck. Drew's eyes widened in shock as the bullet penetrated his flesh. His mouth opened and he took several gulps of air before his legs gave out and he collapsed next to the squad. Carl watched the officer fall with satisfaction as the gun, now shaking in his hand, slipped from his own fingers. A trickle of blood flowed from his mouth and slowly began to form a small crimson pool upon the pavement. His unfocused eyes remained open, but unseeing, at the officer he had just shot.
John struggled with the young man on the ground; each one fighting with everything they had. John's already battered body protested at the exertion, but he fought on. Eddie's eyes blazed with pure hatred at the paramedic, and then, his attention was suddenly diverted as he identified another threat. He changed tactics and mustered all his energy to raise and point the weapon at the officer now closing in on him. Eddie moved his index finger from the rail of the gun and placed it on the trigger. He squeezed hard, sending a single round into the air.
It was enough. The bullet struck the approaching man in the face, entering the socket of his right eye, as the force imbedded the projectile in his brain.
Joe Thompson never knew what hit him.
The other officers scattered for cover as John looked up in time to see the injured man fall backwards and land with a thud on the ground. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared in confusion and disbelief at the motionless body lying only a few yards away. A low satisfying grunt escaped Eddie's lips as he too gazed upon the officer he had just killed. The sound snapped John out of his initial shock as he averted his attention back to his assailant. He didn't want Eddie to hurt anyone else, but in order to gain better control he needed to use more than just his hands. The dark haired paramedic scrambled to his knees and then planted his left foot solidly on the ground, giving him some leverage. Eddie was now pulling the gun back as John pushed off, launching his body forward. As he started to descend, the young man rolled onto his back…and another shot rang out.
John Gage recoiled as the metal entered his body, and he slowly slid off Eddie and onto the grass. He looked up, staring at the moonlit sky, as he heard officers screaming directives and multiple bodies were now moving in…piling on top of the combative man.
"I've got the gun! I've got the gun!" Sergeant Taylor shouted to his men. He looked over at Foster and his partner, "Get this guy cuffed…and make damn sure he doesn't have anything else on him."
The two officers nodded their heads and Foster reached for his belt, grabbing the silver handcuffs from his pouch. Sergeant Taylor backed away from the suspect and turned to look at the young paramedic.
"John? Are you ok...were you hit?" he asked.
John Gage knew the answer to that particular question, but he did not respond. He had felt the bullet enter on his right side, but where it went after that…he wasn't sure. He didn't feel any pain in his back indicating an exit wound. At such close range, he thought for sure it would have traveled all the way through his body. John shook his head back and forth and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Despite his injury, he could still function…at least for now. And, for as long as he was able, his energies were going to be focused on Drew. He had to know...to see for himself.
John forced himself to a standing position, and amongst all the upheaval, was able to successfully avoid verbally answering the Sergeant's question. He was glad that he had opted to wear a dark colored shirt tonight, otherwise he never would have been able to hide the blood that he could feel was already beginning to saturate the fabric.
"Have s-someone check on…on Thompson," he called out to the man in charge as he tried to steady himself, "…and the o-other guy...the d-driver of the Camaro. He…he was injured too," John finished trying to catch his breath.
"We already checked on Thompson," the sergeant replied in quiet voice, "It's too late. He-he's gone."
John felt a quick rush of guilt consume him. He and Drew had talked to the officer on that last call…just a mere half hour ago. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. If only he could have gotten a better grip on Eddie; Joe Thompson might still be alive. He took an agonizing breath…and winched in pain at the effort.
"I-I h-have to g-get to Drew," he stated with determination as he began to move towards the location he last saw his friend.
"JOHN...STOP!" the sergeant ordered as Parker and another officer hoisted Eddie to his feet and moved him towards a waiting squad car. "Foster, you and Harrison go check on the status of the driver. And for GOD SAKES...take a tactical approach. Understood?"
"Yes Sir!" Both men responded immediately.
John Gage had heard the Sergeant's words, but his thoughts were fixated only on Drew and he continued to move forward. He suddenly felt two strong hands firmly clamp down on his shoulders, causing him to abruptly stop in his tracks.
He turned his head around to see Foster and Harrison behind him, and gave them a glaring look.
"Let go!" he ground out in an irritated voice as he struggled to break free from their grasp.
"John," Foster stated firmly, "We know you want to get to Drew, but you have to hang tight until we can get the scene secure…Ok? We don't need anyone else getting shot."
"Too late on that," the dark haired paramedic thought bitterly. He reluctantly nodded his head and the two officers finally released their hold. John remained rooted in his current location as his right hand slid up and pressed on the wound in his side; his eyes glanced over at the sergeant. The man's attention was engrossed on his men as Foster and Harrison now cautiously moved towards Drew's squad with their guns drawn. John pulled his hand back and stared down at the bright red liquid that glistened on his palm. A single drop slipped to the ground, forming a perfect circle on the pavement beneath his feet. He gathered the tails of his shirt, which were now hanging freely outside his pants, and discreetly wiped the evidence of his injury onto the fabric. He waited impatiently until hearing Foster's voice call out.
"Sarge…the scene is secure!"
John didn't hesitate and moved rapidly around the back end of his friend's bullet riddled squad and rushed to his side, dropping down to one knee.
"DREW...DREW? Can you hear me?"
The young paramedic quickly assessed the officer's condition. His eyes immediately noticed the gunshot wound in his friend's neck. It wasn't bleeding profusely which meant the artery wasn't hit, but the location...
John's hand went to the uninjured side of Drew's neck to check for a carotid pulse. He felt a huge sense of relief as he palpated a beat...and then another. It was slow and weak, but it was there. Other officers, including Sergeant Taylor, came running up to them and reached out for their fallen brother.
"Don't touch him!" John instructed. "We can't risk jarring his neck. If the bullet is still in there it could be in a critical spot, and one wrong move could kill or paralyze him."
The officers immediately withdrew their hands and the pain and concern they were feeling was clearly evident by the looks on their face. John cautiously felt around the back of Drew's neck and then checked his hands. There was no blood, and he knew the shot was not a through and through. It was, in fact, lodged somewhere in his friend's body. He glanced up and saw the paramedic team from Station 24, Eric Harper and Danny Kohler, jogging towards him.
"What have we got Johnny?" Eric asked as the two men set the various equipment on the ground and looked at him with expectant eyes.
"So far a gunshot wound to the neck, but I haven't had a chance to do a full assessment yet. We're gonna need a backboard, c-collar, and sand bags. Also get him on 6 liters of 02, bandage that neck wound, and grab his vitals. We need to get on the horn to Rampart and get a line going on him," he barked out in a rapid fire voice.
The two paramedics gave their off-duty colleague a questioning stare which clearly indicated they did not especially appreciate his tone of voice. Upon closer inspection, they noted the young man's disheveled appearance, rapid breathing, and sweat that was rolling steadily down his face.
John caught the stares and explained. "Listen, I just spent the last several minutes fighting for my life" he indicated as he acknowledged his current state. "And...I'm sorry, but he's a friend," he replied looking down at Drew, "A very close friend."
The expression on the men's faces changed immediately as they nodded their understanding. They jumped into action; getting the additional equipment and began to gather their patient's vitals. John continued checking Drew's body for additional injuries, knowing with certainty that he would undoubtedly find more. He located the second gunshot wound and immediately started to apply pressure with his bare hand to control the bleeding.
"Danny," he said "Can ya toss me a pressure dressing and some curlex; he has another gunshot wound to his upper left thigh. It looks like the femoral artery may have been nicked."
"Yea, here ya go," Danny replied.
John caught the items, grimacing slightly, as he raised his arms. The pain was getting worse and he was starting to feel the effects of his injury. Danny gave him a worried look, and was about to ask the young medic if he was ok. John recovered and turned away, sensing the unspoken question, and proceeded to get to work applying the dressing. His eyes continued to scan the officer's body and stopped as he noted the two holes in Drew's shirt near his heart. He quickly finished his current task and moved to unbutton Drew's shirt, and pull apart the Velcro straps on the top and sides of the ballistic vest. He gently eased the front panel off.
"Eric, I need your scissors," he said.
The paramedic nodded and reached around to the holder on his belt and snatched the requested item, quickly placing it in the outstretched hand.
"Thanks," John replied.
John cut away the t-shirt and was relieved to see the body armor had done its job. There was some impact bruising beginning to show on his chest, but that was a much more desirable outcome then what it could have been. The three men continued to work diligently over the injured man as Officer Harrison approached them.
"The driver is dead," he said in a flat voice. "Is Drew...is he gonna pull through?"
"We don't know yet," one of the paramedics responded "He's in pretty bad shape."
"He IS gonna make it," John thought as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "He…he has too."
The ambulance arrived and the attendants jumped out and hurriedly opened the back doors, reaching in to grab the gurney. Johnny leaned in close to his friend's head. He could tell that his own neglected injury was going to win out on his resolve, and he was not going to be able to ignore it much longer. But he had accomplished his goal...and that was to keep his friend alive. He just hoped it was enough.
"Drew," he choked out quietly as he took hold of his arm "You need to fight...for Pam and the baby. You are one of my closest friends…and I-I don't want to lose you." He hoped to see Drew's eyes open, even for a second, indicating he had heard his words, but the blonde haired man remained still.
"Let's get him loaded up," he heard a voice instruct. John reluctantly let go of his friend's arm and moved away. As he started to stand up, his surroundings began to shrink into pinpoints.
"John?" he heard a muffled voice call out, as he lost consciousness and collapsed before the astonished men before him. The officers reacted quickly and were able to reach out and grab him before he hit the ground.
"What the hell is going on?" Sergeant Taylor demanded as he came running back over.
Eric, who had already been seated in the ambulance next to his patient, leapt out through the open doors and onto the ground. He knelt next to the unconscious man and seized his wrist, checking for a pulse. After confirming one existed, his eyes moved to John's stomach. The up and down movement also confirmed he was still breathing. It didn't take him long to discover what the problem was.
"JESUS...he's been shot too! Danny get over here...and grab the drug box and biophone out of the ambulance," he shouted to his partner who had returned to the squad.
"I asked him. I ASKED him! Why the hell didn't he say something?" Sergeant Taylor ground out in a hard voice.
The paramedic looked up into the Sergeant's face. "Because the officer who was hurt is a close friend of his...and John is a fireman. He's used to putting others needs ahead of his own, especially under these circumstances," the man answered in a knowing voice.
The sergeant pulled his lips into a tight line and said nothing, but gave the fireman a hard glare in response. It was evident the man was unaccustomed to people not following his orders.
"Sergeant," the paramedic continued in John's defense. "I know he should have said something, but his intentions were good. John Gage did what he felt was right."
Sergeant Taylor let out a heavy sigh as he picked up his radio and brought it to his mouth. "Dispatch this is 2 David 30, I need an additional ambulance and paramedic crew at this location for another gunshot victim."
"10-4 David 30…we will get them rolling," the dispatcher replied.
Eric looked up as his partner came rushing towards him.
"What's going on?" Danny said as he dropped the orange and black cases back onto the ground and stared in surprise at the scene before him.
"Johnny was also shot, and apparently didn't feel it was worth mentioning. Let's get his vitals and notify Rampart. We know they are gonna order an IV, and we can get him going on that before the other medics get here. This guy," he motioned over to Drew, "can't wait. I will go on in with him and you can stay with Johnny and assist the other crew."
"Ok Eric, sounds good," he agreed as he began doing a more thorough check on the unconscious paramedic. Eric swung the biophone around, threw open the lid, and reached in for the handset.
"Rampart, this is Rescue 24...how do you copy?"
"This is Rampart," answered a female voice, "We copy you loud and clear…go ahead."
"Rampart, we have an additional victim. A male, twenty-three years old. He is unconscious, suffering from a gunshot wound to the upper right quadrant, lateral to the median plane. We are unable to locate an exit wound; stand by for vitals."
"Respirations 20 and labored…pulse 54…BP 100/64," Danny advised as his pulled the stethoscope out of his ears, and placed them about his neck.
Eric squeezed the receiver and related the information.
"10-4" Joe Early responded. Control any bleeding, get him on 6 liters of 02, and start an IV with D5W to keep open. Monitor his vitals and get him in here as soon as possible."
"10-4 Rampart. I will be going in with our first victim, and my partner is waiting on an additional squad and ambulance to transport the second," Eric stated.
"10-4"
"You good?" the paramedic asked as he stood up and prepared to get back in the ambulance.
"Yea...you go on ahead," Danny stated as he removed the items he would need, and then turned the rest of the equipment back over to his partner. "The guys from 99 should be here any minute…I got him."
Eric took a last look at John Gage before turning and climbing back into the ambulance. The attendants slammed the doors shut behind him and seconds later it pulled away, siren blaring.
Danny sent one of the officers to get the O2 off the squad and prepared to start the IV. He thrust the plastic bag into the hands of Officer Harrison who was crouched down eyeing the unconscious man with trepidation. Ten minutes later, John Gage let out a low moan and began to stir. Danny leaned over and checked the drip on the IV bag as the injured paramedic slowly opened his eyes and looked around him.
"Hey there Johnny...welcome back. How are ya feelin?" Danny asked.
"Like I've been s-shot...h-how's Drew?"
"Eric left with him and they are probably already at Rampart. The other ambulance is here and we are going get you loaded up and on your way as well. I will ride in with you, and one of the guys from 99 can bring my squad in."
"Ok" Danny nodded, "Let's move him out."
The ambulance arrived at the hospital and backed up to the ER. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Danny pushed the doors opened as the waiting attendants helped pull the gurney out of the back. They wheeled it into the building and the paramedic noted the rapid approach of Dr. Early and Nurse McCall. The two reached the gurney, which had come to a stop, and glanced down at the patient.
"How is he do...?" Joe began and stopped short; his face widened in surprise at the person lying before him.
"Johnny?" the head nurse blurted out, "Oh my God." Her hand closed in around the young paramedic's arm.
"Hey," he acknowledged them in a weak voice.
"Doc," Danny replied, already anticipating what the man was going to ask. "He's stable and was conscious the whole time in the ambulance."
Joe Early nodded and eyed the two attendants. "Ok...Let's get him into room four."
The two men put the gurney back in motion and maneuvered it down the hallway and into the room. John blinked his eyes rapidly trying to push back the pain as they lifted and transferred him from the gurney to the exam table.
"How...h-how is Drew?" he managed to get out as he searched the faces around him, "Is h-he gonna be o-ok?"
"Johnny...let's worry about you right now," Dixie replied.
He turned to look at the pretty older nurse, "Go ahead and say it Dix…I know you w-want to," he said in a defeated voice.
"Say what Hon?" she asked as she busied herself hanging his IV and preparing to get another set of vitals.
"I told you...s-so," he stated and then flinched as the doctor removed the bandage and began examining the wound.
"There will be plenty of time for that later," she said giving him a soft smile, "Once when we get you sorted out."
"Yea, most p-people when they get h-hurt would be thrown a get-well party. Me...It will be an "I told you so" p-party. Can't wait to hear the s-speeches...they're going to be c-classic." He paused momentarily before turning the conversation back to his friend. "Dix, can you g-go check on Drew for me...please. H-he wasn't in good s-shape. I…I need to k-know?" The dark brown eyes implored.
She glanced up at the gray haired doctor.
"Go ahead Dix," Joe answered, "But send Carol in here to give me a hand. While you're at it, you might want to give Roy a call; he is gonna want to know that Johnny is here...and why."
"Ahhhhh...No Dix...Please!" John begged, "You know Roy….C-can I make a d-deal with y-ya?"
"Yes I do know Roy, and sorry my dear boy...but no deal. You are the one who listed him as your emergency contact, and since this is an emergency room and you have a bullet currently taking up residence in your gut, I think it more than qualifies," she said in a no-nonsense voice before disappearing through the door.
Joe looked down at his patient as the young man's eyes continued to stare at the closed door.
"John," the doctor said shaking his head, "you really didn't think that was going to work...did you?"
"No," he said with a heavy sigh, "but I had to g-give it a t-try."
Dixie McCall pushed the door open to treatment room one and saw the dark haired doctor engrossed in his examination of the young officer. He shook his head in frustration.
"How is he Kel?" she asked.
"Not very good I'm afraid...it's going to be touch and go. I'm really concerned about the location of that bullet in his neck," he said as he folded his arms across his chest, "I'm waiting on the x-rays for confirmation before we get him into surgery."
"Let's get another IV started on him," he instructed the new nurse who was standing on the opposite side of the exam table, giving him anxious looks.
Margie Stillman just recently graduated nursing school and had started working in the Rampart Emergency room only a few days ago. She quickly found out that working alongside the infamous Dr. Brackett gave her the feeling that she had ten thumbs...and maybe she would have been better off staying as a cashier at the local market. She moved over to get another IV bag, and proceeded to knock over the exam tray sending equipment, syringes, and several glass bottles crashing to the floor.
Kel Brackett gave her a hard glare...and looked over at Dixie. He was tired and in no mood to deal with a rookie nurse.
"Dix...take over," he said in an exasperated voice. The young nurse quickly left the room to find a maintenance man to help clean up the mess.
"Kel," she said as she walked into the room, "John Gage was also brought in with a gunshot wound. This officer is a good friend of his and John was doing a ride along with him tonight."
"WHAT? Where is he? How bad is it...?"
"Joe is with him now. He's conscious… and at least feeling well enough to try and bribe me out of calling his partner," she said with a shake of her head. "He took a bullet in the upper right quadrant, and also has some minor lacerations on his arms that look like glass fragments. I was just about to call Roy."
"Ok...SHE can make a simple phone call," Brackett stated, jerking his head in Margie's direction as she came back through the door with a janitor behind her. "I need you here to monitor him while I check on our impetuous fireman."
Dixie turned to look at her new nurse. The doctor's somewhat insensitive attitude towards newcomers was not uncommon. He ran a tight ship and his expectations were high; people's lives depended on them doing their job...and doing it right. Kel Brackett was of the mindset that if someone couldn't hack it, the exit door could hit 'em where the good Lord split 'em. Dixie understood his firm stance on this...to a point. In this business you had to have the right stuff and couldn't fall apart during a crisis. But just the same, she knew this was a difficult and demanding job, and it often took some time to get adjusted too.
"Margie," she stated, "Please go to the roll-a-dex at the nurse's station and look up the name Roy DeSoto. Give him a call and let him know that John Gage is here and we need him to come down."
"Yes Miss McCall," the young girl said. Tears starting to build in her eyes as she turned and pulled open the door; not able to get away fast enough.
"Kel…" the head nurse started to say as soon as the door had closed.
"Please Dix...not tonight. I'm not in the mood for a lecture on my abrasive attitude," the doctor replied stiffly.
She gave him the all too familiar expression indicating she would let it go...for now. The doctor gave the officer's injuries another look, and then turned his wrist to look at his watch. "Where the hell are those x-rays?' he asked impatiently. "Dix can you give them a call and find out what the holdup is? I'm going to go check on Johnny...what room is he in?"
"Sure thing Kel, and he's in four. While you are in there could you give him an update on his friend for me? He's really worried."
"Ok," the doctor answered as he turned to leave, "I think the officer's wife might be here as well. There isn't much of a prognosis I can give either one of them until I get a look at the damn films."
He pulled the door open and stormed out. Dixie sighed and walked over to the phone taking the receiver off the hook and punching in the extension numbers for the x-ray room.
The phone next to Roy DeSoto's bed rang loudly at precisely 12:18am. The blonde haired paramedic's eyes snapped open on the first ring, and he was as wide awake as if the Klaxon alarm had just gone off at the station.
"I knew it," he thought as he bolted upright in bed. "Damn it! I KNEW IT," he repeated out loud.
His wife Joanne moaned softly next to him. She blinked her eyes trying to shake off the sleep and get her bearings.
"Honey...what is it? What's wrong...what did you "know"?"
"Johnny," he said as he reached over and snatched the receiver into his hand.
"Johnny? What about him?" Jo inquired as she hoisted herself into a sitting position.
"Hello?" Roy answered, more loudly then he intended.
"Hello," the young voice greeted, "I apologize for the late hour, but I'm looking for a Roy DeSoto?"
Roy was confused for a minute. He didn't recognize the voice at the other end of the phone, and by now, he knew everyone who worked in the ER at Rampart.
"This is Roy DeSoto...who is this?"
"Mr. DeSoto, my name is Margie and I'm a nurse at Rampart General Hospital. There was an incident tonight; two people were killed in a police chase and a couple of others were shot. I was told that it was imperative to contact you and have you come to the hospital regarding a John Gage."
Roy sat perfectly still. He couldn't formulate the question in his mind into verbal words.
"Honey, please...what's going on?" Joanne replied anxiously seeing the expression on her husband's face.
"Hello? Mr. DeSoto, are you still there?"
The words were stuck in his throat. "Yes...yes, I'm here. W-who was...killed?"
"A police officer...and another young man who I believe was with him," the nurse replied.
Roy went numb...he couldn't believe it. He had been worried about something happening, but he didn't expect...this.
"Hello?" the female voice said again after waiting for some type of acknowledgement.
"I-I will be right there," the blonde haired paramedic replied with a catch in his voice before hanging up the phone.
"ROY!?" Joanne asked again, trying hard not to yell any louder and wake up Chris and Jennifer.
Roy turned to his wife. "Remember...remember I told you that Johnny was doing a ride-along with Drew tonight?"
"Yes," she said impatiently, "What happened? Were they in an accident?"
Since Roy's mind seemingly did not, at the present moment, want to function on its own, he fell back on the nurses words, "There was an incident tonight...two people were killed in a police chase...and a couple of others were shot. The police officer and another young man who was with him were the ones...killed. They need me to come down to the hospital."
Roy looked at his wife's face as the words he had just spoken slowly sunk in. Tears fell freely from her eyes and rolled in a steady stream down her cheeks.
"Oh my God! I-I can't believe it," she cried as he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, gently rocking back and forth before he buried his face in her soft hair.
"I have to go," he whispered a few moments later.
"Do you want me to go with you?" she choked out, already starting to climb from the bed. "I can try and find someone to stay with the kids."
"No honey it's late. Just…just stay here, I will call you from the hospital."
Roy started to pull on his clothes and glanced over at the phone. He debated about calling the Captain and decided to wait. It was an easy decision...because he couldn't bring himself to verbally say it out loud.
That his partner and best friend...was dead.
