Chapter 7 Racing the Rain

Digging now with their hands at a frenzied pace, the men scooped and slung soil as they worked their way from the sole of a shoe to the ankle. Roy motioned for Carl Waterman, one of his paramedics, to check for a pulse.

"He's pretty cold Cap," Carl reported stoically, "But I have a faint pulse." William Bradley, his partner, set up the biophone and called Rampart to report a code I. "Hold off on IV fluids," Dr. Early advised. "Squad 36 is there a way to heat the saline?"

Will looked up to the foreman. His busy eyebrows jumped up and he nodded. "We have a large coffee pot," he said gesturing towards the office, "We could dump the coffee and just heat water. Put the bags in there."

Carl replied, "Rampart, that is affirmative. We can use a large coffee pot to heat water and then put the bags in there."

"That's good," Early said. "Apply heated bags of saline to any areas you can wrapped in a blanket or turn out coat. Of course be cautious of heating them too much. Monitor what vitals you can. Call if anything changes or when you have more excavated."

Carl tossed several bags of saline to Eddie. Eddie hustled off to warm the bags in the coffee pot. Carl readied his turn out coat.

At the entrance dig, Chet had again taken his spot and was using the blade from the broken shovel to dig out mud. His voice echoed out of the culvert. "Cap! I got a glove!" There was a short pause. "Got a hand!" Chet called out. There was the sound of fast digging and gasping breath sounds. Chet's face popped out flushed from exertion. "His hand is cold, but I have a pulse." Chet reported before flashing an grin. He quickly turned and scuttled back down the culvert. Chet grasped the hand between his two gloved hand and squeezed reassuringly. After a moment, he let it rest in one hand and then used his forefinger to tap out a message in Morse Code back to Gage. We're coming.

Johnny drifted in and out of consciousness. He had odd dreams of a dog lying on his ankle. Sure feels warm he thought pleasantly. As time passed, the dog laid on more and more of his leg and then the other one as well. Weird Gage, you are losing your grip he worried during a bout of wakefulness. Another dream was of moving rock at Roy's place. They had worked on landscaping a few weekends ago. Odd part of the dream was the vividness of the scrape when scooping up the rocks, but no sound when they were dumped into the wheelbarrow. Johnny was aware that all this was off, strange and was also alert to the fact he was quickly slipping mentally. He laughed aloud when he began to hallucinate that he was on a date. He could feel her hand in his, but then she started tapping in his palm steadily it moved from funny to annoying. Johnny roused himself enough to note it was the same tapping pattern. Huh, kinda like code or something he supposed. All at once it clicked, code! He strained to focus and made out the message. With all he could muster, he tried to squeeze the hand of his 'dream date' and hung on with all he had.

Chet suddenly yelled out, "He's awake! Roy, he just squeezed my hand!" Chet started to feel embarrassment over the tears that filled his eyes, but when Roy's face peered down at him and Chet saw Roy's eyes were also wet, he just grinned crazily. "His grip has slackened some," he reported with some disappointment.

"He needs to save his energy, Chet. He knows that," Roy advised. He wanted to keep the men encouraged so he hid the jolt of concern he felt. Before he could call for more warmed saline, Roy saw Eddie trotting towards them with two bags and his jacket.

"Uh, thought you'd need these, Cap. You can just use my jacket," Eddie explained with a shrug. Roy took them gratefully and handed them down to Chet. I might just have to lure ole Eddie away from Johnny he pondered. Of course I have no one I'd want to get rid of. Roy got up and went over to check on the progress made. On his way he gave Eddie's shoulder a heartfelt pat.

Warmth is such an underrated feeling; Johnny's thoughts flitted by garbled together. He awoke to his hand cradled in warmth. Gripping the warmth, Johnny realized it wasn't another person and for a moment he suffered a pang of disappointment. The squish reminded him of a bag of IV solution. He shook it off knowing people were coming.

To try to focus and stay awake, he worked to remember and catalog the worst meals ever served at 51. Top meal was a tie of all the stupid garbage Chet had concocted while on his health kick. It was too hard to pick the worst of the worst. Shoot, he'd eat about anything so 'bad' food was monumental. He groaned when his own stomach rumbled. Maybe if I keep thinking of bad food, I'll lose my appetite he hoped. He chuffed aloud. Nah, he thought, nothing stops my ravenous belly. The "cherry" stew was a strong second he decided going back to his topic. Cherries? Cherries? He was still dumbfounded at that whole epiphany. He had to admit however, his own hotdog casserole hit a strong third place. It had sounded great when he dreamed it up. Roy had cautioned him on that one, but he'd bullheadedly insisted and sheesh what a spectacular failure. Ah well, better to go down in flames trying than to be boring. Fuzziness overtook him again and he wondered whose dog was on his legs.

Eric took over for Chet and continued digging out his captain's arm. They were now past the elbow. They were also racing against the clock. Storm clouds were gathering, dark and heavy with moisture. A deluge of water could be deadly. Roy's concern about the weather was plain to Eric. Those playful blue eyes, always pleasant were as stormy as the sky. The closer they got to Johnny's head, the more mud they had to remove. Eric fought against haste knowing mistakes could kill at this point. After fifteen minutes, Chet took over again. The small space, digging saturated soil, and awkward body position promoted intense cramping hastening fatigue.

Just as the thunder rolled it's warning, the crew broke through to the edge of Johnny's left shoulder. The warmth of the men near his arm had helped clear his thoughts a bit. On the other end they had unearthed both legs up to the thighs. Warming efforts had continued. The crew often patted or gently squeezed Johnny's limbs to provide reassurance and to look for reactions. They were often rewarded with a squeeze back from Johnny's hand or a leg jiggle.

Roy climbed into the entry tube himself when the shoulder was unearthed. Using the broken handle from Chet's shovel, Roy carefully drilled a hole over John's shoulder. He gingerly pressed around the perimeter of the bored aperture as he withdrew the handle. "John? he uttered his mouth close to the opening. "Hey, we could use some information from you," Roy requested. He needed the information and also hoped to switch on that analytical, saavy part of Johnny.

It was quiet and then Roy heard the scrape of plastic on cement. "Helps to take off the mask, huh?" Johnny replied. His voice was steady but weak. "So, what's new?" he quipped.

Roy smiled grateful for the small sign of feistiness. "We got your pulse and BP. Can you send us your respiration?" It was key to know how his breathing was faring.

"Uh, kinda shallow and labored. This mud is making breathing hard. I'm glad I had the mask," he replied each word becoming more arduous. Johnny pressed his face into the mask and breathed several seconds of oxygen. "Sorry, needed an air break. I'm hanging in. Mostly the cold is the issue. Can't tell if anything is broken, but I wonder about my ribs," he managed to finish, gasping.

"Got it, Junior. Don't talk anymore, okay? Breathe and save your strength," Roy advised his own assessment now completed. Roy now knew Johnny was at least cognizant and the warming was working. "It won't be long now. We've been using warmed bags of IV solution to warm your arm and legs. Also we may thread in a hose to pump out water. Another storm is moving in." Johnny nodded his head in answer too weary to verbally reply and then realized the ridiculousness of that action. He was glad to have an avenue to communicate, to hear the guys. The fact that it might start raining again was not welcome news, but hearing Roy's voice gave him a shot of optimism. Unfortunately for Johnny his body cramps returned.

His neck twisted as cramps hit his sides, back and then shot down his legs and arms. Johnny cried out hoarsely, the pain stole any words away. Roy had not yet moved away and saw Johnny's fingers spasm. He waited a few seconds before checking with his friend. "Johnny?" he ventured knowing a coherent reply would probably rule out a seizure.

"Dadgummit, smarts!" Johnny replied. "Dang muscle spasms."

"You having a lot of issues with them?"

"Um, this is maybe the third or fourth time since I was trapped. I'm kinda twisted around, I guess," Johnny answered.

"All your limbs moved so that rules out spinal injury," Roy said.

"True, so it's kinda good news," Johnny answered. He felt wetness on his other arm. "Uh, Roy I'm getting a little water in here."

"Yeah, it's raining again Junior. We've started pumping water out above you already. Do we need to pump it out by your head?" Roy tried to steady his voice. If Johnny was at complete mental capacity, he'd know the dangers, but if not panic was not going to help him.

"Well, not right now, but I have very little play in my movements. If much more comes in I'll need to hold my breath," Johnny responded trying to quell his panic. Being trapped in mud was bad enough for someone with a tendency towards claustrophobia, but being underwater too was pushing him to the brink of panic.

Roy took a second to think. "Well put in a small hose and set up a siphon for you." In a few minutes, Eric's voice came through the opening.

"Here comes the hose, Cap. If you can, maneuver it around near your face in the culvert. Four quick squeezes of your hand will tell us water is getting through," Eric explained. "Then we'll start up the pump. Using the pump will block any verbal communications, though."

"Got it," Johnny replied and he gripped the hose first with his teeth and then his right hand as it slithered through and toward him. After placing it, he lay spent.

William and Carl relayed the newest information to Rampart that Johnny was awake, but experiencing some muscle cramping. "His vitals are holding and we are seeing movement of extremities. Warming is continuing."

"Let's hold off on any muscle relaxants," Dr. Early answered.

Trey carefully monitored the pumping of water from his place above Captain Gage. Ted took his turn digging out his captain at his left shoulder. He carefully positioned himself so his captain could grab and squeeze his knee if needed. He kept up prattle about various movies he'd seen bouncing from Kramer vs Kramer, to Being There and various tidbits from the campy Love at First Bite. Johnny just listened and grunted now and again in reply. I don't think I'll ever complain again about his long winded analysis of movies Johnny thought wryly.

Ted was the one who broke through and first saw his captain wedged in the smaller pipe. "Captain DeSoto!" he called out after scrambling towards the opening. "I'm through!"

Roy trotted over to Ted and squatted down. "How's it look?"

"I've cleared his left shoulder. His neck is clear as is his right shoulder. He is still buried from his shoulder blades to where ever they'd cleared him to from the other side," Ted replied as he swiped sweat from his face and inadvertently smeared mud across his brow. "There is a small puddle of water, but it doesn't seem to be growing."

"Good, good. Why do you come out and help Chet with checking all the bracing we've done? With the rain restarting I want to be sure it is holding," Roy instructed as he crammed warmed bags of IV fluids into his pockets and down the front of his shirt before fastening up his turn out coat.

Ted clambered out of the culvert and Roy was lowered down into the pit. Ted was winched up as Roy bent over and crawled in back towards Johnny. Ted rushed off to check all the pits with Chet as they called out who'd check what. Roy slogged through the caked on sludge and felt it's cold seep through his turn outs. Just a dim peep into the cold Johnny must be feeling, he pondered.

"Laying down on the job again?" Roy joked as he reached his friend and began tucking in the warmed bags of fluid up under the back of Johnny's turn out coat.

Johnny chuckled and replied, "It's easier to justify now that I'm captain, right?" He let a small groan of appreciation out as the warmth hit is skin. Roy briskly rubbed Johnny's arm and hand.

"We're up to your waist. The remaining mud is very dense, but they're making good progress. It shouldn't be long," Roy explained as he took a pulse and respiration. He whipped out the BP cuff from under his coat and started taking a reading.

"Yeah, I can feel them," Johnny answered. "I haven't seen this much action since the Anderson twins in '73," he quipped referring to a date where he was supposed to double with Chet. Chet had gotten the flu at the last minute. With no one able to take Chet's place Johnny had taken them both out. Chet hadn't talked to Johnny all during their next shift since Johnny would not give up any details. The girls were knock outs and the two had plotted for weeks to take them out. Of course, Johnny had eventually spilled to Roy that the girls had been so forward he'd ended up ditching them at a club. They'd practically undressed him while they sat in a booth. They didn't seem fazed by the crowd. Lucky was one thing Johnny had said, but come on.

Roy laughed. "Yeah, I think you got a whole new understanding of what girls meant by a guy being an 'octopus'. Johnny joined in laughing.

"As fast I I'd button up a button, they'd have another one undone. When one grabbed at my belt buckle I bolted." Johnny continued chuckling. "You ever tell JoAnn that one?"

Roy sobered, "Are you kidding? She'd have blushed fifteen shades of red and then probably gone out and socked them both after a stern lecture. I figured that might tarnish your rep so I just said they weren't your type. You breathing any better?"

Johnny wheezed a bit. "I was until now. Laughing is hard." He pressed his face into the air mask for a bit. "'Course it beats being trapped with my own thoughts for company. You done?"

"Yep," Roy answered as he picked up his HT. "William? BP is 107 over 60, pulse is 70 and respiration is 18 and labored. His color is pale, but he is alert mentally. Warming seems to be helping."

William answered, "Got it, Cap."

Rain began to come down more forcefully moving from a soft sprinkle to a steady drumming. Trey's voice came over the HT. "Cap, the rain is picking up."

Great thought Roy and Johnny. "Got it," Roy replied as he checked the water in the pipe. A small trickle had started in the smaller culvert. Johnny had noticed it too.