Chapter 10

The jovial mood that had flitted lightly about disappeared within the cab as Roy entered the freeway once more and headed for the multiple station call. The address led them back towards the less populated area of their territory, right on the fringes. Darkness settled around them as they left the well-lit expanse of interstate and barreled down a two-lane paved road that seemed to waver in front of the high beams that DeSoto had turned on. Through the down windows came the sounds of the night, all animal noises as far as Johnny could tell. Of course, it could just be his overactive imagination, since every call they had responded to during the shift had involved some sort of furred, fanged, or crawly creature.

The wailing of sirens soon washed away the nocturnal harmony and John leaned on his arm to peer out his window. They were probably still a mile out but even from here he could see the dancing flicker of flames silhouetted against the inky blackness of the night sky. Minutes later they turned down a short, dirt road that led to what looked like an abandoned farm. The dilapidated farmhouse was engulfed in a ball of fire, and the many outbuildings scattered haphazardly throughout the acreage were in danger of being consumed as the wind had picked up and was doing a strange, swirling dance between the buildings. The start of the Santa Ana winds, no doubt, a nightmare for firefighters all over southern California, Johnny noted with concern. He tumbled out of the cab and grabbed his coat out of the front compartment. Roy met him at the side shrugging on his own coat and together they pulled out their SCBAs.

"Don't see that too often," John murmured, waving a hand in the general direction of their engine as he lifted his mask to his face and tested it. The black, hard suction hose that usually resided on each side of the Crown was being used to pull water from a pond located down a slope off to the side of the burning structure. Roy nodded in agreement, taking it all in with a quick glance as he wiggled his shoulders to settle the tank on his back.

Johnny led the way, Roy a foot to the side of him, as they loped over to where Captain Hammer was standing, HT in his hand and squinted gaze fixed on the action playing out. Upon spying his paramedics bearing down on him, he pointed an ungloved hand towards three outbuildings towards the south. "Men, we're on containment only on this one. The chief says that while the place has been deserted for several years, it's a hangout for partying teens and the occasional tramp. Do a quick search of that barn and the sheds over there; make sure we have no unexpected occupants. With this wind picking up…" he trailed off, letting them draw their own conclusion to the danger that existed with all the weathered wood and shingles. He then focused his commanding stare on Gage, his eyebrows raising in a questioning arc. Johnny hastily grabbed the helmet that was hanging by the strap from his neck and slapped it on his head, not sure if the intimidating look was for the dangling headgear or his too long hair. Possibly for both, but hopefully any future reprimands would be forgotten.

The medics trotted back to their squad and pulled off their SCBAs, dropping them in the dirt against the rear tire. They grabbed the green captain lanterns and John snagged the ax before they headed for the closest shed, dodging tumbleweeds and other blowing debris. The leaning edifice proved to be empty of human occupants and everything else, except for a pair of glowing eyes in the corner. Johnny couldn't help the little shudder of disgust that encompassed his body for a second as he considered the possibilities of what was lurking in there; in the brief flash of light he had glimpsed something furry about the size of a rat but a dark color. Did rats come in black? He wasn't sure, and stepped back from the doorway, slamming the surprisingly still sturdy door closed with a little more force then needed.

"It's clear," he declared to his partner, deciding ignorance about four legged rodents was better in this instance.

Roy led off towards the next building, picking his way carefully through the weed choked, narrow passageway that separated the two sheds. Stepping around the corner, he skirted the rusted hunk of farm machinery that partially blocked the entrance and rattled the handle. Locked tight, so he shone his light towards the window that flanked the door. Nothing could be viewed through the small pane of glass due to blockage within; either that or the window was coated with a film of dirt. With a grunt of annoyance, DeSoto bent over and poked the flashlight through the jagged hole at the bottom of the door, hoping to be able to see inside and avoid having to waste the time to break the door down.

Thankfully, the building was small and narrow enough that he was able to see all the way to the back wall. This one was empty too, except for shelves that lined the walls littered with what looked like jars of screws and other hardware. A rustling sound to his right diverted his attention, and he slowly turned his head to see what was lurking in the patch of overgrown foliage. Nothing was visible in the darkness.

"Is it empty?" John queried from behind him as he started pulling his arm back from the hole. The sleeve of his thick coat vibrated as the rustling grew louder and Roy jerked in surprise as Gage's lantern swept over him and illuminated what was lurking in the weeds and also why his coat had twitched.

"Oh boy! Don't move that arm, Roy," John cautioned, his free hand gripping his partner's shoulder and drawing him backwards. They reached the clearing and stopped, Johnny now gingerly holding the sleeve up by the edges. "You've been quilled, man! Do you feel anything on your arm?"

"No, I don't think they made it through the turnout," DeSoto replied in dismay, staring at the multitude of porcupine quills sticking out of the material.

"Good, that's good, just keep that arm still while I get this coat off of you."

Using extreme caution, the younger man unlatched Roy's coat and worked it off, starting with the unaffected left arm. When he had peeled off the turnout all the way to the right shoulder, he had to stop and unzip the blue jacket underneath and remove that also. It appeared that some of the quills had penetrated the material and were holding the two outer garments together. He paused and looked at Roy with concern as he once again stood in front of him and held both sleeves up away from the arm.

"Before I pull this off, still ok? Nothing touching your skin?"

"Ah, nothing more than a scratching sensation at the worst," Roy admitted truthfully, eyeing the barbs. Johnny pulled the coats off simultaneously, dropped them, and scrutinized the arm. He sighed in relief and flicked the light beam towards the coats.

"I think you're awfully lucky." He seemed about to say something more, but instead shook his head, picked up the garments, and jerked his head towards the last edifice they needed to check. "Come on, let's go take a look at that barn."

"Right, right," Roy said, agreeing with both statements. He glanced over his shoulder as they trekked rapidly towards the largest building. He could no longer see the fiery orange of flames against the dark; it looked like the fire was under control.

Set back quite a distance from the two small outbuildings they had just checked, the well-worn path to the barn was littered with rusty farm implements and various, unknown junk. Johnny had slowed down his rapid pace to avoid impaling himself and DeSoto caught up to him.

"Is quilled even a word?" He asked curiously, warily flashing his light off to the side and sweeping the yard for anything moving in the million and one hiding places.

"No idea, just seemed appropriate at the time," Gage replied, jiggling the coats away from his body so that Roy could clearly see the pin cushioned fabric. "I'll pull them out for you; I know someone who makes jewelry out of these things."

"Jewelry, huh, can't imagine that for some reason," he admitted, reflexively rubbing his bare arm and trying to picture something made out of the sharp barbs. Perhaps it could be used as a defensive weapon….

"Make a great gift for your wife and it'll remind you of this great shift whenever she wears it, "John suggested slyly, lips twitching in amusement. His expression changed as he thought about the other animal he had just seen. "You know Roy, I'm pretty sure there was a skunk in that first building I checked. I thought maybe it was a rat, but it was dark colored and was pretty good size."

Roy snorted, remembering the flood control tunnel from earlier and his increasing panic at the thought of a pack of rats trailing them through that dark, swampy area. "Honestly, I think I might just take the skunk over the rat right now. I wonder what would happen if you crossed a porcupine with a skunk?"

Johnny looked at him in disbelief, waggled his eyebrows, and snickered. "A porciphew?"

"Or maybe a stinkacushion?" Roy countered with a grin, stepping over what appeared to be a pile of petrified animal dung.

"Skunkapine*? Or maybe, umm, a smelly porker, or pine air freshener?"

The banter ceased as they reached the front of the barn, which had the traditional two doors butted together and held closed with a simple wooden bar. Trying to muscle the warped wood upwards and out of the metal holder proved to be an impossible task; Gage gingerly fished the HT out of the pocket of Roy's turnout coat, tossed both coats out of the way, threw the HT to his partner, and used the ax handle to pound the stubborn bar loose. They pulled the right door open with extreme caution, standing off to the side and peering inside.

"Looks like a typical barn," Roy observed, noting the straw and dirt covered floor, a large, open loft with bales of hay stacked upon it, and various small farm implements adorning the walls. There were stalls to the left and an open area in front and to the right of them. "Shouldn't take too long to check this out."

"I'm surprised all this stuff is still around if people are stomping through here," Johnny said, warily moving inside and turning to the left.

They quickly scanned the stalls and proceeded to the other side. Gage, who was waving his light in a wide arc, stopped walking, and bounced on his feet experimentally. "There must be some kind of basement or something under here, the floor here isn't dirt and feels kinda springy."

He bent down and swiped at the surface with his gloved hand. "Hey, check this out, looks like a trapdoor."

Roy, who was off to the side and only a step or two behind, caught up to him and shone his flashlight over the indicated area. As Gage brushed, the outline of a rectangular door became visible. He yanked his spanner wrench off his coat and hooked the tip through the ring and pulled. The door yielded and he flung it open.

"Looks like some kind of cellar, storage area or something?" Johnny jumped into it and landed with a soft thud; Roy was amused to see that the area was only about three-foot-high, as most of partner was still above the barn floor. "Dunno, not very big, whatever it is. And…."

He crouched down and shone his light around before popping back up like a jack in the box. "Whatever they had in here, it's empty now. Plus, it's small, real small, wait, do you smell something?"

Roy took an experimental sniff and swiveled his head around as he caught a whiff. "Yeah, I sure do. Cigarette smoke?"

Gage's "uh huh" was smothered as he sneezed; dust and wisps of hay showered down on him through the cracks of the loft above. He started to look up, thought better of it as the dusty deluge continued, and waved an arm in front of his face in annoyance. Tugging at his helmet, he coughed and shouted, "Hey up there! Fire department! You need to come down, right now!"

Roy looked about for the loft ladder as a rustling started above them and grew to include a medley of noises. Noises that were easily identifiable as a muffled argument growing in volume, breaking glass, and loud thumps; the senior paramedic couldn't help a smirk of disbelief as he spun away from John, still unable to locate the exit route for the completely clueless idiots overhead. A farmhouse burning to the ground probably less than three hundred feet away and the obvious smoking in a building smothered in flammable materials really made him wonder who was trying to scramble to safety up there – teenagers or adults?

And then the raw, primal scream from a juvenile voice as the rustling developed into an ominous crackling, a sound that any firefighter could tell you in an instant what it was before it could be seen or even smelled. Creaks and groans that did not belong to the people running for their lives began scant seconds later. The wood trembled above them, a heartfelt curse burst from Gage, and Roy whirled again. He thrust out his arm to aid his partner's anticipated leap from the coffin like hole, but his gloved hand touched nothing but air. Instead of jumping out, Johnny was frozen in place and staring straight ahead. Snarling and one sharp bark and Roy saw the reason for the staring contest that seemed to be occurring.

A severely emaciated German Shepherd was half crouched about three feet in front of his partner, canine fangs protruding from a snarling black mouth. His fur was bristling straight up around his head, similar to that of a male lion. A wide-eyed look towards Roy and then Johnny vaulted out, using a hand on either side of his body to propel himself upwards. The moment his feet hit the floor and he straightened his body the dog launched, impacting in the middle of Gage's chest and knocking them both back into the hole. A half second later, an enormous wooden barrel rolled through the splintering floorboards above and exploded in a burst of wood and liquid in the exact same spot Gage had been standing. Roy had no time to ponder the impossibility of that miracle; what he saw out of the corner of his eye caused him to dive after his partner and the dog into the dubious safety of the hidden cellar. As he landed on fur and flesh, he heard a strange cry from his new partner.

"It is not a good shift to die!"

And then he heard no more, as the rest of the hay loft followed the barrel's trajectory and crashed down in a flurry of splintered wood, hay, and glass; the whole barn shuddered in protest.

~TBC~

A/N – Many thanks for reading, and reviewing, this odd little story as it draws to a close.

*Special thanks to Karen and Donna, my E! friends way over the pond, who came up with the last three skunkaprick words!