Warning: strong language
All medical and technical errors are mine.
Chapter 7
Beeeep…..Beeeep…..Beeeep
Mike slammed the receiver back down in the cradle of his bedside phone. "Damn," he mumbled into the open palm he ran down his face. Cupping a hand behind his head, he leaned back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh, turning slightly to look at his alarm clock again. Two o'clock and her line's been busy since before noon. He thought back over their conversation during lunch the previous day. He knew that she had a morning class from 8:00am until 9:50am and that she would be back at her apartment before lunch to begin typing a mid-term paper. She only had classes on Tuesday's and Thursday's and he was certain that today was Thursday; he'd already double checked the calendar on his refrigerator. His insecurities began to shout at him from deep within his soul. Did she take her phone off the hook to avoid his calls? But then why did she give him her number in the first place unless she wanted him to call? He thought back over the time they'd spent together in the little café. He'd never felt so comfortable with a member of the opposite sex in his entire life; especially on a first date. He had debated with himself whether or not to call her back so soon but his memory of her writing down her phone number on the top of the paper then returning it to him with a warm and inviting smile had convinced him to make the call – or to at least make multiple attempts.
With a grunt he leaned over reaching for the phone and dialing the digits one more time, no longer needing to look at the paper since the sequence was seared into his memory with all his failed attempts over the previous two hours….555-2647.
Beeep…..Beeep…..Beeep
"Ugh, Ryleigh…was it something I said?"
E!
She pulled the lever back on the manual typewriter releasing the paper enough for her to reach her error with the eraser, scrubbing the typo until the pale green instrument removed the errant ink mark. Remnants stuck to the white sheet like dust particles so she flipped the pencil-like eraser over, using the fanned brush end to remove the erasure pieces then blew on the page for good measure. She snapped the black bar back in place to secure the paper to the roller then returned her fingers to the home keys. She sat staring at the machine for a few moments then dared a glancing glare at the olive green phone on the wall of her kitchen, as if willing it to ring would somehow make the handsome fireman dial her number. When it didn't ring she tucked a foot beneath her in the kitchen chair and blew on the section of hair that had become loosened from her ponytail and was now dangling annoyingly between her irritated hazel eyes.
"He thinks I should be a teacher; he's disappointed," she surmised aloud. Embarrassment colored her neck when she realized that he had not asked for her phone number, she'd simply offered it to him and he'd accepted it. "Of course," she said exasperatedly although she was alone in the apartment, "he's a fireman and such a gentleman that…he didn't want to hurt my feelings so he took my number….and he'll probably burn it at his next fire." She forcefully slammed the carriage back to the left margin and began typing again. Ryleigh, you are such an idiot to think he'd be attracted to you, she thought struggling to see the handwritten paper beside the typewriter as it grew more and more blurry from her tears.
E!
Later that evening, Mike picked at the peas and carrots of his now cold TV dinner. The meatloaf reminded him of road kill and the dollop of mashed potatoes made him think of a dirty snowball, not appealing to the eyes or the stomach. He huffed one more time then reached for his water. He allowed the cooling liquid to run down his throat while he stepped over to the trash can and tossed away his inedible meal. Standing beside the refrigerator, he thought about the four remaining cans of beer he'd had in there for a few weeks. Mike Stoker wasn't a heavy drinker like some firemen seemed to be but on occasion he'd down a can just to help him relax and sleep. This was going to be one of those nights.
Standing with the door open, he grabbed a can and popped the pull tab off. He tossed metal fragment into the trash can and began to drink, belching slightly on his way to his recliner. Beside him, the phone sat staring at him. Somewhere inside his frustrated brain he could almost hear it snickering and giggling.
"Alright, one more try," he mumbled to himself as he reached for the receiver and dialed the number.
Ring….
oh YES, he thought sitting up in anticipation of her voice.
...ring….ring…
"WHAT? Who the hell is this?"
The voice on the other end was certainly not Ryleigh's; in fact, it was distinctly male…and very angry.
Mike stammered something into the phone as shock and realization dawned on him. "Uh, ah…sorry, wrong number," he said slamming down the phone.
Shit, she's gotta boyfriend…or a husband. Oh no…..Mike Stoker does NOT play THAT game. Nuh-uh…no way. His musings continued - each thought worse than the one before - until he'd finished his beer. Then, in an almost unheard of move, Mike retrieved a second beer from the refrigerator and continued sipping and swearing his way to the bottom of it as well; he had never been lied to in such a way before. "Damn it!" Now he thought he understood why she'd tried to pay for her own meal; she hadn't considered it a date. But why the hell did she insist on giving me her number?
E!
"What'd 'C' get called out on this morning?"
Hank looked up at his second in command standing in the doorway of his office, not quite looking like his usual self. "They're part of a second alarm assignment in a neighborhood off Sepulveda Blvd….got called out right after I got here."
"Shit…figures," Mike mumbled turning around, obviously stifling a yawn as he lumbered back toward the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
Hank watched him leave, feelings of both curiosity and dread beginning to rumble deep within his gut. Looks like this is gonna be a very long shift.
E!
Just as Hank had feared, Mike's uncharacteristic foul mood seemed to have set the tone around the station. Roy had come in grumbling after his neighbor's dog had knocked over the DeSoto's trash cans tearing into the plastic bags and leaving a trail of loose garbage across his lawn. Then Marco stormed in with a very sour face complaining about his water heater going out before he could complete his morning routine leaving him hot but not in the way he preferred. The sound of a van door repeatedly slamming in the back parking lot announced the arrival of the younger lineman; a furious Chet Kelly soon shoved his way into the locker room slinging his duffle bag off his shoulder and onto the wooden bench amid the stares of his earlier arriving crew mates.
"Stupid rusty piece of shit! Damn door won't stay shut." He emphasized his words with a swift kick to the bench. "Owee, damn it!"
"Got something against that bench there, Chet?"
"Oh you're a regular riot, Gage." Chet opened his locker and began the task of changing from his street clothes into the blues of the Los Angeles County Fire Department.
Johnny looked around the locker room at the grim faces, arching an eyebrow in obvious question. "Hey, come on…who pissed in you guy's corn flakes this mornin', huh?" He smirked slightly, pulling his light blue uniform shirt onto his shoulders and straightening the collar.
"Stow it, Johnny." Ebony eyes glared at the younger man while Marco tied his shoe laces then straightened up pushing open the locker room door seeking the solace of a hot cup of java.
Johnny looked down ensuring his nimble fingers were lining up his buttons correctly, "geez…sorry."
"It isn't you, Junior…seems it's just a bad day."
Johnny looked at his partner, disbelief written on his expressive face. "Yea, well I didn't do anything so they need to leave me out of it." He slammed his locker door shut leaving Roy in the locker room alone with a smirk on his face; he was the only one who realized the irony of the situation – bad days were indeed contagious because now even happy-go-lucky Johnny Gage seemed to be having one.
E!
Hank looked at his crew noting their lack of energy and general foul moods. "Well gentlemen, we've got a lot to do today so let's start chores. As soon as 'C' shift gets in we'll need to clean up the rigs and hang hoses for them. He caught Mike's eye roll but decided not to ask the burning question on his mind.
"Ok," he began looking down at his clipboard. "Mike kitchen, Marco dayroom, Chet dorms, Roy bay and Johnny latrine."
He watched as the five men who made up his crew silently stormed off to their respective assignments. Oh, boy. He blew out his breath combing his hand through his hair as he turned to go back to the respite of his office.
E!
Johnny shimmied up the hose tower, still in a very hostile mood from his earlier encounter with his crew mates in the locker room. Suddenly, he slipped on the fifth rung causing him to fall back down landing on top Chet.
"Shit, Gage!" The lineman rolled and pushed until both men were on all fours in the back lot, struggling to regain their footing.
Johnny looked around sheepishly, anxious to ensure that their Captain hadn't seen his debacle. "Sorry, man."
Chet opened his mouth to release a snappy comeback when the tones interrupted him.
Station 51 – brush fire near….
Chet and Johnny both scrambled towards their respective rigs as the disembodied voice of the dispatcher relayed the information for the call.
"Station 51, KMG-365." Hank hung up the microphone and made his way to his place on the engine.
Johnny accepted the slip of paper passed to him by his partner as he watched the bay door rising reflected off the shiny red hood of the squad. He reached down flipping on the lights and sirens, as Mike engaged the engine and together the two emergency vehicles pulled out of the station.
Roy maneuvered the squad around the tight curves of the dirt road leaving a trail of dust behind for Mike to navigate through. Johnny tightened his chin strap when he began to see the smoke on the horizon.
"At least the wind's calmed down a little," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the rising plume of smoke ahead.
Roy pursed his lips into a thin line of exasperation, fighting back the urge to yell at his partner. Johnny seemed to have a way of jinxing their runs by making comments like the one he'd just uttered. He pulled to a stop shifting into park and opening his door at the same time. Johnny followed quickly and both men began pulling on their turnouts and gloves preparing to pull a hose; paramedic skills were rarely needed on brush fire runs unless it was for one of their own.
"L.A. Station 51 on scene," Hank said then replaced the microphone preparing to issue directives.
"Chet, Marco grab an inch and a half and head down that ridge…Gage, DeSoto cover the north side and let's see if we can't knock this thing down."
The four men rushed into action grateful for the sparse amount of underbrush and the relative lack of wind. Mike stood sentinel beside the engine ensuring that his crew had the water pressure necessary to drown the slow moving fire.
Chet took the lead with Marco at his back and began spraying the slow creeping flames. "Looks like there are more rocks than brush," he yelled over his shoulder.
"Don't complain," Lopez shouted back.
Hank stepped up on the engine to survey the slope beneath them making sure they weren't missing any hot spots when he saw something metallic lying north of his paramedics current position and slightly beyond their line of sight. He stepped down scurrying over to his engineer. "Hey, keep an eye out up here for a minute will ya, Mike?"
"Sure, Cap."
Hank loped past the front of the squad gripping his long fingers around his handy-talkie. The wind picked up blowing sand into his face and sending a chill down his sweat soaked back. Protectively, he used his free hand to shield the annoying particles from his face until he reached the summit. He turned to his left leaning over the edge slightly, gasping at what he saw. There below him was a tangled mass of metal and wheels; two boy's bicycles, one black and the other gold, appeared to be meshed together in a mangled mess. His breath hitched in his throat with the realization that there might be two kids somewhere in the ravine beneath them. He keyed up the mic on the HT just as another gust of wind blew sand and smoke into his face sending him into a coughing spasm.
Johnny looked around at their surroundings as the wind sent smoke barreling in their direction. His instincts shifted into a higher gear as he tapped his partner on the shoulder. "Hey Roy…gotta get outta here."
The two medics scrambled back up the slight incline just as Hank keyed his handy-talkie. "HT 51 to Engine 51."
"Go ahead, Cap."
"Mike, get us some back up coming. The winds have shifted and we may have a couple of victims up here. Pull Lopez and Kelly and get the engine and squad up here fast," he released the button waving frantically at his two medics who were already hauling their hose back up to the road where they dropped it.
Roy jogged alongside his partner, both breathless as they met their Captain. "Whatcha got, Cap?"
"Look," he said pointing his gloved hand down the edge of the ravine.
"Aw, shit!"
Under other circumstances, Hank would've voiced his displeasure with his younger medic but he had to admit that his own mind had been screaming the same phrase since he'd first noticed the bikes and the shifting winds. "Stoker and Lopez are bringing up the rigs. Those flames are heading in that direction and if there're two kids down there injured…"
"We don't have much time," Roy interjected as he and Johnny both made a run for the squad just as Marco stopped it in front of them.
"Alright guys, see what you can do with the asbestos blankets and we'll do what we can to keep those flames back for long as possible. Help's on the way but," he gulped not wanting to finish his sentence.
"We know, Cap," Johnny said securing his SCBA on and adjusting the face mask.
"Hope you don't have to make that call," Roy offered looking at his superior with compassion as his own SCBA mask dangled beneath his chin while he secured his belt and line for the fast descent. "Get the stokes and backboards ready. We might find'em fast and be able to get back out before the fire gets here."
Hank looked over the man's shoulder to the place where Chet was already spraying down the dry vegetation. The flames were advancing faster than he'd hoped; the beast was growing and setting its sights on the humans who now stood in its way.
All six men knew that Hank wouldn't knowingly allow them to stay in an unsafe situation, even when two young lives might be at stake. They just all hoped and prayed that he wouldn't have to make the call for them to come back up before they could get the kids out…or at least confirm they weren't there.
Roy felt the dirt beneath his feet shift when the full force of his weight pressed into it as he made his controlled descent. He held the blanket securely while his hands busied themselves in lowering him closer to the twisted bikes, his brain all too aware of the dangers lurking close by.
Hank watched above them as his two medics made their way down, black helmets shining in the sun. His heart beat much too quickly inside his chest each time a small gust of wind carried wispy smoke between his vantage point and their constantly lowering positions. He looked up briefly when the distant wail of sirens drifted into his hearing and he silently whispered a prayer of thanks for the precious sound.
Johnny continued lowering himself down scouring the terrain on his left then doing another visual sweep on his right, the section between himself and Roy. Sweat dribbled down around his ears and the seal of his mask as he looked down in search of solid footing. A muffled shout and movement caught his attention on his right and he looked up to see Roy dropping to a knee behind a protruding boulder.
Roy looked around the mangled bicycles in search of any sign of their owners. A sneaker, loose lace trapped in the bicycle chain, hung suspended and blowing in the wind. Roy winced noting the small size of the shoe knowing the child who wore it wasn't very old. His keen eyes noted what looked like scratching marks in the soil and his heart broke imagining a young boy struggling to climb out of the mess he was now surrounded in. As always, his mind briefly thought about his own young son but his heart refused to allow his thoughts to linger there. He had a child to find and right now time and the elements were against him. He lowered himself again positioning his feet below the wreckage but at the same level with the protruding boulder where he heard coughing and saw the mate to the trapped shoe.
"Hey…are you ok?" He watched as the shoe moved sending a few small rocks tumbling downward. He leaned around gaining a better view of the child and his heart leaped into his throat.
In the shade of the boulder, a small child lay curled on his side facing the large stone. His body heaved as he retched whether from fear, dust and smoke or perhaps serious injury, Roy couldn't tell. The experienced paramedic looked up, gaining his partner's attention and signaling that he'd found one victim. He waited for John's signal that he understood and was continuing his search then returned his attention to the child.
"Son, can you hear me?" Roy pulled his mask off long enough to listen for a response.
"Ah…hurts…aruu," the child began to retch again.
"Easy now, you're gonna be ok. Can you tell me where you hurt?" Roy's eyes scanned the small body noting the torn clothing and various bruises and scrapes along his arms, hands and face. He quickly ran his hands along the child's body glad to find no obvious fractures but his concern grew as the child clutched his abdomen and began dry heaving again. He removed his mask offering the child some clean air for a few breaths while he pulled out his HT to let the rest of the crew know what he'd found.
"HT 51 to engine 51."
Hank was anticipating the call as he'd seen Roy signal his find moments earlier. "Whatcha got, Roy?"
"One victim, male about eight years old. No obvious fractures but possible internal injuries and concussion. I can't do much for him here. Gotta get him top side quick, Cap."
"Tell me what you need and I'll send Kelly down with it."
Roy looked back down at the child whose condition seemed to be improving slightly with the oxygen. He was no longer moaning and retching and had relaxed his arms from around his abdomen. Roy keyed up the mic again. "Stokes only."
While Chet prepared the stokes, Marco continued spraying down the area as much as he could but became frustrated when the stream of water seemed to waiver. Mike's ears perked up at the sound of the change in water pressure.
"Sonofabitch!" He groaned making the adjustments he instinctively knew wouldn't be enough.
Hank watched his young lineman make his way down the embankment with the stokes in tow then looked up as the wailing sound grew louder. Dust flying in the distance gave him the information needed to do a quick mental calculation of the ETA of the station called out to assist them. Come on fellas…we need ya here quick.
"CAP!"
Hank turned around at the panicked sound of Mike's voice and saw a look he rarely saw in the engineer's blue eyes.
"She's going dry….pressure's too low to reach them."
Hank's gut churned and his head throbbed. This was exactly what he had been afraid he'd have to do. He looked to his left and noted the distance of the flames from his men and the wind speed. He already knew the approaching engine would not make it to their location before the advancing fire reached them. He was fairly certain Roy and Chet could get their victim up the side of the ravine with a little time to spare but he could no longer see Johnny. His mouth went completely dry as he sucked in his breath keying his HT.
Johnny looked up the ravine realizing that he had descended twice as far as Roy. He continued his visual sweep, HT bumping into his left hip. Then he saw the sight he'd been searching for, a red and white striped shirt and he quickly made his way over the few steps to his right. His heart pounded out a new rhythm as he pulled off his mask and used his teeth to pull off his right glove. He tasted the dirt from his glove and felt the grit running along his lips as he reached his long cramping fingers out hoping to feel a pulse when Hank's voice boomed from his left pocket.
"Engine 51 to HT 51…time's up…get outta there! Water pressure too low to continue and the ETA on back-up is three minutes. "
He dug into his pocket, removing the HT and pulling up the antennae. "Cap…I found another victim," he called out breathlessly.
Hank felt an unseen hand wrapping cold fingers around his heart and lungs and squeezing the breath out of him. What choice did he have? Before he could answer the question Johnny hadn't yet asked, he heard the young man's voice crackling across the radio.
"Cap, he's alive!" Johnny knew full well the consequences of disobeying an order but his Captain wasn't holding a young boy in his arms. "I'm gonna cover us up… with the blanket 'til… we can get out," he continued in a voice raspy for air having placed his own mask over the face of his young unconscious victim.
Hank toed the ground, shifting his weight in frustration. Inhaling a deep shaky breath, he grimaced with his next comment, "Alright, take cover, John."
Behind him, Mike continued pushing the engine trying to increase the pressure on Marco's line by sheer will power alone. "No…not this, please?" He stood leaning into the engine, his chin beginning to sag as the fire continued to encroach on his crew mate down below.
Marco shut off the nozzle realizing that the minor stream of water he was getting was no longer reaching its target. He returned to the engine dropping his impotent line and saw Chet and Roy struggling to pull the stokes up the hillside. "Here," he reached out for the end of the stokes rushing past Mike, never noticing the slight droop in his broad shoulders.
"Other side of the squad," Roy huffed out passing Hank who was standing in place watching for some sign from Johnny. The three men lowered the stokes and Roy began calling out the equipment he needed while he wiggled out of his SCBA tank. He couldn't allow his mind to drift back to his stranded partner when the boy in front of him needed his complete attention.
Johnny did a quick assessment of his young victim and realized he was in no condition to be moved without spinal precautions. His pupils were reactive but the left one was sluggish. "Damn kid, ya really did a number on yourself didn'tcha." He palpated the small abdomen, relieved to find it soft. The boy's left leg was twisted awkwardly and his forehead sported a large swelling bruise. Johnny looked up when he noticed the smoke around them thickening. Time was running out much too quickly. He spread out the protective blanket making sure that when he laid down on top of his victim that they would both be completely covered, the child being doubly protected by both the blanket and John's turnout covered body. He pulled his mask up arranging his position on the child so as not to put any unnecessary pressure on him while using the mask to provide them both with air. He held himself up off the child with his knees and elbows then pulled the blanket over their heads. "A'right, kid…'s just you and me."
E!
"LA engine 51, respond two ambulances to our location," Hank croaked out slamming the microphone back into its bracket just as an LA County Sheriff's patrol car pulled to a stop ahead of the second alarm assignments.
Vince Howard jumped from his car jogging up to the obviously nervous Hank Stanley. "Watcha got, Hank?"
"Don't know if they're related or not but we gotta call for a brush fire and then saw two boy's bicycles mangled together just below this ridge. Roy's got one of the kids over there treating him and," Captain Stanley hesitated as a gust of wind blew smoke into his face. "U-hu, Johnny's got another one down there."
Vince followed Hank's gaze. "Hank, uh…"
"He's taking cover until we can get them back up," Hank answered the officer's impending question as he looked around the officer's helmet. "Good job, Mike," he mumbled knowing his engineer had been in contact with Captain Collier at 8's to apprise him of their situation so he would know what was needed.
In the distance, Hank saw the engineer from 8's dropping a line from the hydrant. Relief washed over him as he realized that the distance could easily be covered by the supply lines from the two engines working in tandum to pull the dragon killing fluid from the old dust covered red hydrant to his hunkered down asbestos blanket covered victim and paramedic below.
Moments later, Captain Collier rushed to Hank's side. "Whatcha need, Hank?"
"I've gotta man down there taking cover with an injured kid. Let's get these flames pushed back to the south so we can get 'em out."
Captain Collier began shouting orders to the waiting men. Two engineers readied the rigs to charge the lines as their collective crews positioned themselves for the most strategic attack. They all knew they had a brother trapped with a victim and they all wanted to get them out as soon as possible.
"Hey Vince?"
Vince turned at the sound of Roy's voice calling his name. "Yea?"
"Gotta kid here with no parents around to give permission to treat. Can you assume custody?"
"You got it, Roy," Vince answered returning to his patrol car to contact his shift supervisor. "Do whatever you deem necessary and I'll take responsibility for it."
Roy's blue eyes met the ebony eyes of the officer giving him a nod of appreciation. He briefly allowed himself a glimpse of the activities underway to rescue his partner and the remaining child then returned his attention to the crying little boy lying on the blankets near the hood of the squad. "Hey, it's ok, buddy. I know it stings but it's gonna be alright. You're gonna get to ride to the hospital in an ambulance, ok?"
Young green eyes continued to melt as Roy continued his ministrations of bandaging the child's wounds. He was grateful his patient had only suffered scrapes and bruises…and hoped that perhaps his partner and the second victim would fair just as well.
Johnny lay in the sweltering heat beneath the blanket. His turnouts added another layer of protection from the heat and flames but offering no other comfort. He couldn't make out the features of his patient in the darkness of the covering but he could feel the small ribcage beneath him continuing to move rhythmically as the child inhaled the fresh air flowing from the mask he'd positioned between them. Sweat continued to pour into his eyes burning and stinging. Additional rivulets dripped down his face, ending in a pool along the child's bruised cheek bone. "Hang on….just a little longer, kiddo."
"Uh… hmm," the child groaned then coughed. "cuu, ahuu."
"Easy there….you're safe, buddy. Just take it easy, 'k?" Johnny could feel the child beginning to stir and released a breath of relief as he felt all four limbs moving slightly. "Atta boy," he whispered turning his head sideways to cough just as his HT crackled.
"Engine 51 to HT 51. You ok, John?"
Johnny squirmed reaching around for his HT, struggling to pull it up close enough to his mouth to be heard by his captain. "Yea, Cap. We're ok."
Hank felt his knees weaken with relief at the sound of his medic's voice. "Whatcha need down there? I got help up top here to bring it down."
Johnny pulled himself up removing the blanket in the process. The area around him was charred and dusty but he and his young patient had escaped the blaze. Johnny sat back on his haunches straddling his patient and coughing to clear his throat. He wiped the sweat from his brow with one arm as he keyed up his HT with the other hand. "Backboard…C-collar…stokes." His reply was breathless but he managed to get the words out. "Ah, add a splint too," he mentioned looking back down at his semi-conscious victim still lying in the same position Johnny had found him in. "Told ya, kid...plenty o' help to get us outta here."
E!
Thirty minutes later, Hank gave the usual two slaps to the back door of each ambulance watching with relief as the white Mayfair vehicles pulled away towards their destination of Rampart, each one carrying a young boy and a paramedic from 51's. He ran his fingers across his forehead turning around to assess the clean up when he noticed his engineer sitting on the tailboard of their engine, head hanging low.
"Mike?"
Mike heard his name and looked up as he stood, embarrassed to have been caught sitting down on the job. "Sorry, Cap."
"You ok, Pal?" Hank once again felt those same icy fingers walking up his spine and gripping his chest.
Mike exhaled hard shifting his gaze from his Captain to the last rays of the sun setting behind the older man. "Yea…just…uh, nothing, Cap…it's nothing."
Hank slapped his engineer on the shoulder, guiding him towards the driver's seat. "Let's head back to the barn then…we're gonna need showers and food before the next call comes in," he said using his best encouraging voice.
Mike didn't respond audibly. Instead, he followed his Captain's lead and soon began the long drive back home. This particular call had been much too similar to the story he'd read at the library; a story that had been haunting him for a couple of days now. And he knew that after this run, it would haunt his sleeping hours as well.
E!
A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments, especially to those who have encouraged me and helped me by serving as a beta!
