Warning: strong language
A/N: Any technical errors are mine.
Chapter 10
He pulled back on the curtain, scanning the parking lot of his apartment complex then cast an exasperated glance at his watch. It was a quarter past two and he couldn't help but wonder where his research partner might be. Come on, Gage…we've got work to do, man. He released his fingers from the brown and gold curtain, turning to his left as he let go, but quickly did a double take when his eyes caught a flash of white turning into the parking lot. He exited his apartment in a rush, hesitating only long enough to lock the door then descended the flight of stairs two at a time.
Johnny reached down to adjust the volume on his radio. He enjoyed riding with his windows down, relishing the resulting breeze blowing through his dark hair. It gave him a feeling of being alone in nature, not enveloped by the mass of concrete, metal, smog and humanity that was Los Angeles. But now that he had pulled to a stop at Building C of Palm Escape Apartments, he was aware of the sound of his music that Chet's older neighbors probably didn't appreciate and turned the dial to lower the volume.
"'Bout damn time, Johnny!"
The swearing made Johnny look up just in time to see the head of dark curly hair pause at his passenger's side window. "Good afternoon to you too, Chet." Johnny couldn't help but toss a grin at his grumbling friend as the shorter man climbed into the passenger's side of his rover. He waited for the door to slam shut then shifted into reverse and headed out of the parking lot.
"We gotta lot o' work to do. Why're you out goofin' off?"
Johnny laid his elbow on the open window ledge squinting into the sun with a smile then casually propped his right hand on top of the steering wheel. The drive to the library was neither long nor along crowded busy streets so he relaxed allowing a chuckle to slip out from his crooked grin. "Take it easy. 'S not like we're on a run or somethin'. We've got hours before they close." He waited for a response from the lineman but all he got was a huff. "Aahhhh, must have some plans for t'night, huh?"
Chet rolled his eyes regretting he'd ever mentioned punctuality to his friend, especially since the two of them were notorious for showing up at the station with barely enough time to get into uniform before roll call. "No…no plans, thank you very much…just want to do a good job on this, ya know?"
"Yea, yea…I hear ya," Johnny said swiping the blinker then turning into the parking lot of the library.
"Do ya think you can be serious for just a little while, Johnny…just for a few hours maybe?" Chet could feel his ire rising from his chest. "I REALLY wanna know why he did it. That's why this McConnike Mission has to be perfect."
"McConnike Mission? Are you kiddin' me?" Johnny released a cackling laugh that reached Chet's burning ears over the loud creaking of the rover's opening doors. "You named it?"
"Yea, so what's it to ya?"
Johnny slapped his friend on the back as they made their way up the marble steps of the library. "Nothin', Chet…in fact, I kinda like it."
E!
Edith raised an eyebrow above the rim of her red reading glasses; a scornful expression decorating her features. "A-hem," she cleared her throat gaining the attention of the two young men joking as they entered the front door of the library – her library. As soon as the loud duo looked up she removed a sharp yellow number two pencil from behind her left ear and tapped the 'Quiet Please' sign centered on the circulation desk.
Chet heard the admonishment of the older librarian and halted his forward progress a half second before Johnny. He raised his shoulders in silent apology grabbing the elbow of his taller friend to silence him as well. Johnny realized how their abrasive entrance must have sounded and raised up on his tip toes for the last few steps to the desk. He gave the librarian his best 'Gage charm' grin much to the chagrin of his eye rolling friend.
"Oh, yes ma'am," he leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "We're firefighters and we're looking for information on the history of the fire department." His bright smile quickly faded when she looked upward briefly and exhaled an exasperated huff.
"What is it with you firemen lately?"
Chet had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and decided he'd better step in for the rescue; problem was he didn't know who he was rescuing from whom. "Ms., um," Chet squinted to read the name tag pinned to her navy blue sweater draped over her shoulders. "McMillian, we don't mean to interrupt you or anything so if you'll just point us in the right direc …" He stopped when she once again retrieved her yellow pencil and pointed back towards the front door.
"Hey, we're tax payers, ya know. You can't just kick us out of here for no rea…" Johnny's rant was quickly quashed.
"Room on the right as you make your way back towards the entrance, back shelf," she explained with a slight nasal whine.
Embarrassment tinted Johnny's face as he realized she had been answering Chet's question, not ejecting them from the public library. "Oh…uh," he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry…um, thanks," he offered taking a tentative step backwards. He looked down at his feet just as Chet grabbed his arm ushering him in the direction of the side room.
E!
Ryleigh Abrams returned from her late lunch, entering the back door reserved only for library staff. She smiled at Edith as she stowed her purse beneath the counter of the circulation desk.
"History of the fire department seems to be a popular topic lately," Edith said softly without looking up from the desk where she sat.
"Huh?" Ryleigh turned back to face the older woman then quickly spun back around looking at the doorway of the first room near the entrance, noticing that the light was on. "Oh…so I see."
She stood mesmerized staring at the entrance to the room. A half smile found its way to her face as she wondered if perhaps Mike came back to see her. The half-smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared as she dismissed the notion as ridiculous. She had given him her number and he'd never called. She could feel the heat of her blush rising to color her cheeks as she remembered their last encounter. She leaned forward on the wooden desk sucking her lower lip between her teeth in frustrated contemplation. Oh…why not, she reasoned with herself as she pulled back the gate to allow her access to the rest of the library and quickly adjusted her glasses, primped her hair, and with an air of confidence that was completely false she walked towards the front of the building.
E!
"Hey…I think this one would be perfect, Gage."
Johnny looked up from the newspaper articles he was reading. "What's it about?"
"Well, it says here," Chet began, "that back in 1963 there was…"
"Lemme see that," Johnny reached for the document just as a beautiful voice floated into the room just ahead of an equally beautiful young brunette.
"So, had to come back for mor…oh," Ryleigh stood wide-eyed in the doorway; her forward progress quickly halted by the sight before her. She was expecting to see the handsome sandy haired engineer, not the two dark haired young men who sat before her with their mouths hanging open. "I'm terribly sorry. I…I thought you were somebody else."
Johnny's facial expressions turned from awe to flirtatious in the matter of a split second. A smile swept across his face and his brown eyes sparkled as he slowly stood up. "Oh…please don't be sorry. I'm sure not."
"Cut it out, Johnny!" Chet's voice sounded like a growl exiting his mouth through gritted teeth.
Johnny cut his eyes at his still seated friend then quickly redirected them to the young woman who stood before him shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm John Gage and this is my friend Chester Kelly."
Chet pressed his lips into a thin line at Johnny's use of his formal name. He shook his head then returned back to the article he was reading as Johnny sauntered up to the embarrassed young woman.
"Well, John my nam…"
"Johnny…please, call me Johnny." His smile broadened across his handsome features not realizing he'd interrupted her.
"Ok, uh…Johnny…um, my name is Ryleigh. I didn't mean to disturb the two of you. I have a friend who's a firefighter and he's been doing some research on the history of the fire department too; I thought maybe you were him." Ryleigh knew she wasn't hiding her disappointment very well.
"What's his name? Maybe I know 'im."
Ryleigh almost blurted out Mike's name but then thought better of it. "Oh, well…doesn't matter. So, uh…can I help you with something?"
Johnny knew he really didn't need any help but he certainly didn't want to lose the company of such a beautiful young lady. Propping a hand on one hip he spun around looking back at the table where he and Chet had their research materials spread out then back around to Ryleigh. "Uh, yea…actually…uh, I could use some copies of some of these articles…if you don't mind, that is?"
Ryleigh felt a bit of relief. At least his request was professional in nature. For a moment, she thought he was going to ask her out. He was handsome, just like Mike, but there was a bit of arrogance about him that she wasn't entirely comfortable with. She knew most women her age liked the flirtatious types but she was more intrigued by the shy confidence of men like Mike. Oh stop it, Ryleigh. He's gone. Forget about him! She fought to dismiss his image from her mind. "Ok, Johnny, just show me which ones you need copies of and I'll be glad to help you."
Quickly, he turned around and began rounding up various articles, piling them into a mess in his haste.
"Mine!" Chet slammed his open palm down on the article he'd been reading.
Johnny nearly jumped at the sound of Chet's possessive voice as his hands covered the pages he was reading. He wasn't going to let his friend drool all over this particular article while he was skirt chasing.
"Fine…no problem." Johnny continued scooping up the materials. He saw Ryleigh make a move towards him to retrieve the papers from his hands. "Oh, allow me," he crooned with a nod of his head toward the doorway.
Ryleigh stifled a giggle while hearing Chet fail to stifle his groan. "Very well…follow me please."
Johnny gave Chet a quick wink as he left the room behind Ryleigh leaving Chet alone to finish his research. "Like a stray puppy," Chet mused then returned his attention to the article about the disaster of December 14, 1963."
The room had grown quiet with his friend now gone and Chet's determination kicked into an even higher gear. He began to read the small black print and allowed his eyes to scan over the graphic pictures of the horrors resulting from the disaster. Eventually, his eyes began to glass over and the printed words and images blurred from black and white to color as his mind took him and his crew back to that fateful December day….
E!E!
Johnny made the sharp turn into the back parking lot of Station 51. He pulled up his emergency brake then looked into his rear view mirror taking careful inventory of his face. The bruising was bad around his left eye and he dreaded having to explain it to his captain. What he dreaded even more was the ribbing he was going to take from Chet. After all, that's who was with him when it happened and he knew all the details; something Johnny knew his friend would enjoy sharing with the rest of the crew. Gingerly, he stepped out of his car, his knee still sore, and walked inside the station with his duffle bag dangling in his hand. His shoulder was still too sore to sling the strap over as he normally would have done. He hesitated before the locker room door, inhaling deeply then plastering on his best fake grin before pushing the door open to face his crew.
"Mornin', mornin', mornin'," he rambled on, quickly slinging his duffle bag into his locker and turning his back to Mike and Marco.
"Whoa," Marco exhaled with a whistle.
Roy was standing close enough to his partner that Johnny couldn't hide the bruising and swelling of his left eye. He could feel the older man staring at him but refused to look in Roy's direction.
Roy propped one leg up on the bench tying his shoe without looking down; his face was turned to his younger, and very bruised, partner. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Nothin'," Johnny said without moving from his place in front of his locker. He swiftly removed his shirt hoping no one would notice the bruise on his shoulder as he quickly pulled on his blue uniform shirt.
"Hold it!"
Johnny stopped what he was doing immediately and huffed dropping his head. He knew Roy had seen the bruise and knew his partner wanted a better look. "It's just a bruise, a'right? It's nothin'."
"That isn't nothing, my friend," Roy uttered as he lightly touched the tender area on Johnny's left shoulder.
"Yea, Gage…messin' with some guy's babe?"
"Stow it, Stoker!" Johnny turned around to shout the words over his right shoulder wincing at the pain the twisting action caused his right knee. He waited for Mike's response, knowing that he'd been rather harsh to his engineer friend, when the person he least wanted to see waltzed into the locker room.
Mike stood with his mouth open ready to launch his own retort at the short tempered fireman when Chet's entrance interrupted him.
"Soooo, Gage…tell 'em about yesterday?" Chet stood rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets.
"Nope," Johnny pulled on his pants stuffing his shirt tail inside the waistband. "Figured I'd let ya have your fun." He turned around and sat down, refusing to acknowledge the pain he felt from bending his knee, and began putting on his shoes. He knew Chet would spare no detail of yesterday's fiasco.
"Oh, man…I wish you guys could have seen him. Ol' Gage here was standing on the beach in his swim trunks with a babe on each arm and these girls were stacked," he emphasized the idea with his hands held out from his chest.
"CHET! Cut out your lip flappin'." Johnny knew he wasn't going to stop Chet from telling the story but he had to at least make a show of it for the sake of what little dignity he had left.
The young man was unstoppable at this point and gave his embarrassed friend a sly grin. "Anyway, this chick from UCLA was taking pictures for some art class she's taking. It was just like the song 'Surf City' with two girls for every boy, dig it?" Chet waved his open palm in the air before them to heighten the effect of his story.
"Chet, it's December. Nobody's going to be on the beach in swim suits in December." Marco was beginning to think Chet was making the whole story up.
"To make a little bread they will." Chet scoffed back. "Oh, and fellas…you do know what happens when chicks in bikinis are outside in the cold air right?" He waggled his eyebrows at the back of Johnny's lowered head.
"Chet, I'm warnin' ya. You're really startin' to bug me." Johnny was becoming irritated knowing where the story was going.
"Don't flip your wig, Gage," he said turning briefly to the object of his story then returned to the rest of the crew. "So, these two chicks were standing beside Johnny and he's got this surfboard underneath his arm right?" Chet's smile was broadening as he neared his punch line. "And he tries to get a better view of the two babes…from the front, ya know…like he wants to cop a feel…and takes a step ahead of 'em and turns just a little too much to the one on his right and smacks the chick on his left in the buns with his surfboard….ahh..haahaa," Chet doubled over clutching his stomach as various snickers echoed around the locker room.
"Ok, alright. But that doesn't explain HIS bruises," Roy said facing the laughing Irishman while jerking his head toward his still seated and seething partner.
"Oh, that's the best part, DeSoto. See, the chick with the camera is just snapping away at the pictures of the whole thing and Johnny here asks for a retake. Well…heehee, she decides she needs some water shots see…."
"Hold on, Chet." Roy held up his open palm then turned to look at his partner. "Don't tell me you went surfing, Johnny?"
"Oh no worries, Roy. He didn't surf…believe me, he didn't surf.…oohh, heehee, ah haahaa. Oh…it was a real gas!"
The other men in the room began to join in the laughter with Chet. Images of Johnny crashing into the cold water fluttered through the minds of both Mike and Marco. After all, one look at Johnny and they both knew how it obviously ended.
Roy looked at the others then down at his partner again. "Johnny, you never told me you could surf."
"That's 'cause he can't, Roy! The ditz wiped-out in ankle deep water!" Chet once again doubled over losing his breath from laughing so hard. "All he had to do was run along the water line with the board and just create a little splash around his legs. But…oohhh, ahhahh…he tumbled around in the surf, board wacked him in the face and shoulder then he got slammed pretty hard into a rock along the edge of the water."
"Johnny, no wonder you look like you got pounded," Mike consoled.
"Oh wait, wait Mike. That's not the best part." Chet's face was beet red from laughing.
"Chet, I'm gonna pound YOU if ya tell 'em abo…"
"While ol' Gage here was rolling around in the sand…he, oh… aahhhhaaa…he B.A.'d the chicks!"
Johnny wished he could crawl through the drain in the shower stall and disappear beneath the city. He leaned over holding his face in his hands while the realization of what had happened appeared on the faces of the men.
"Johnny? You mooned them?" The voice belonged to a grinning Roy.
Johnny never looked up feeling the fast throbbing of his pulse around his swollen eye. "Yea…my shorts got pulled down while I was rollin' around out there." He looked up then with daggers in his eyes aimed at Chet. "Are ya done down, Kelly?"
Chet slapped the brooding Johnny on his good shoulder. "Didn't know if you'd make it in to work this mornin' or not, hodad." He continued to chuckle as he pushed open the door and headed out for roll call.
"Just wait…when he least expects it…I'm gonna give 'im a Melvin…in front o' everybody," Johnny mumbled to the others still standing around him.
"Now THAT, I gotta see," Mike laughed pushing his hips off the sink and following Chet out the door with Marco close on his heels.
Roy turned to his sulking partner. "You really did that, partner?"
Johnny's hurt look answered Roy's question. He returned his head to his hands in total humiliation. "Yea…I bare assed 'em, right there rollin' around in the sand and water just like he said."
Roy waited a minute before he asked his next question. He placed a supportive hand on his partner's non-bruised shoulder knowing the younger man's ego was far more bruised than his body. "Ok to work, Junior?"
Johnny stood up carefully brushing his hair out of his swollen eye. "Yea, yea…don't sweat it, Roy. I'm just a little sore 's all."
E!E!E!
After roll call, the station got called out to a fatal traffic accident on a deserted stretch of highway. They had just returned and were cleaning up from their lunch when the phone rang.
"Station 51, Fireman Kelly speaking…..oh, yessir." Chet covered up the receiver. "Cap, it's HQ for you."
"I'll take it in my office," Hank stated standing up and hurrying out of the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and as soon as he picked his phone up, he heard Chet hang up the kitchen extension.
"What makes these dip sticks do it?"
Roy took another sip of his coffee before he answered. "I dunno, Mike. Playing chicken in vehicles isn't the brightest idea but then again…we were kids once too." He lowered his coffee cup thinking of his own young son. "Makes me worry about Chris growing up, ya know?"
Johnny looked forlornly at the two men. Any time they lost a victim, it was tough but when the victim was a 16 year old kid it just made it even more difficult. Johnny remembered the look on the face of the second victim, the one with only a broken nose and fractured wrist. His eyes were wild and his entire body was shaking with the shock of knowing that his adversary was deceased. Johnny had been the first rescuer to get to the blue dodge pick-up with the smashed up front driver's quarter panel. The young man's eyes were staring lifeless at the broken steering column; his neck tilted unnaturally lying on his left shoulder. Eerily, there was only a tiny trickle of blood from a cut along the ridge of his left brow. Johnny knew that his death had been instant. Roy had been the rescue man assigned to the survivor and they both wished they could have done more for the young man. He was shaking so violently that it took both he and Roy to hold him still for the ambulance attendants to strap him to the stretcher. He wasn't yet feeling any pain but both men knew that the pain would likely come before the ambulance got to the hospital. It was a long ride and his adrenaline was going to wear off sooner or later. Roy would be the one in the back with him when the pain started and Johnny did not envy him. The sound of Hank's voice brought him back from his morbid reverie.
"Well, men…we've got a crisis on our hands. The Baldwin Hills Reservoir has a leak and the surrounding area is being evacuated. We're being called up to be on standby to assist if," he gulped before he continued. "If the leak can't be stopped and it floods."
A chorus of whispered swears made its way around the room as the already depressed mood worsened.
"Well ain't this a bitchin' day," Johnny mumbled in his most sarcastic voice. "I was already bummed out when I got here then we lose a kid on that last run. Now this."
Hank chose to ignore the comments and continue his report. "We're going to be staging closer to the site but we've got to remain available within our own area too." He rubbed his forehead in a manner that his men knew well. Hank was worried about this one. Somehow, he always knew when things were going to go bad and if the worry lines were any indication, he obviously knew that disaster was a mere few hours away.
E!E!
Just as Hank had feared, the evacuation order was only a few hours old when the breached wall surrendered to the herculean force of water it was holding behind it. Many residents had managed to escape - many but not all. The call to action was nearly immediate as the word spread through the staging area where Station 51 had been strategically assembled. With red lights flashing and sirens blaring, the emergency vehicles barreled through the traffic arriving at the scene only a few moments after the call came in. The men watched helplessly as a wall of water rushed along the streets collecting cars and homes along the way. The sounds made by the rushing water, creaking and breaking structures, and metal slamming against metal would never leave the memory of those who witnessed the carnage first hand.
"Looks like a bunch o' damn Monopoly pieces," Johnny mumbled as he and the rest of the crew stood on higher ground watching the swift waters down below. Above them, almost as loud as the churning flood, was the sound of helicopters. One was a news helicopter from KTLA but the other three were being piloted by their brothers, fellow firefighters searching for survivors in the swirls of death and destruction below.
Not long after the sighting of the helicopters by 51's crew, the rescues began. Hank called his crew together to explain what was being expected of them on this assignment. None of them were comfortable with water rescues, Johnny least of all. They had all prepared to test fate by rushing into burning buildings to save life and property, prepared to lay down their lives in service to their fellow man; none of them, not a single man from 51's A-shift, ever considered that he might pay the ultimate sacrifice during a water disaster. But that possibility was now swirling only minutes away from them.
"Listen up men," Hank called out as the three department copters hovered overhead preparing to land. He looked into the eyes of each man, silently praying this would not be the last alarm for anyone in his crew or the department. He saw the looks on their faces, the determination in their eyes, and a swell of pride brought tears to his own. For not a man standing before him showed any outward sign of reservation for the job ahead of him. He swiped at his eyes, feigning the removal of the swirling dust the rotor blades were kicking up near them. "This is it, two per copter. Use your lifelines and protective gear." He watched as Chet tightened the strap beneath his chin and Marco double checked the closures on his coat. "I'm matching you up based on body size, strength, and skill set. Ok, Chet and Roy, copter one." He watched the two men scan the area in search of their assigned helicopter then hold their helmets tighter on their heads as they walked against the wind in the direction of the chopper. "Marco and Johnny, copter two." Marco was a step ahead of Johnny as the two men leaned into the wind hustling to their ride as well. He looked to his right, into the crystal eyes of his second in command. "Sorry, Mike. But you're stuck with me on the third bird." Hank wasn't sure but he thought he saw a slight smile flash on his engineer's face. It was gone before Hank had a chance to confirm its existence but he returned his own quick version to match it, just in case.
"I'm honored, Cap," Mike said in a voice much louder than his usual speaking voice, the noise level around them was increasing as the other two helicopters became airborne. The two quickly boarded the only chopper that remained on the ground and soon all members of Station 51 were heading to locations where there were people needing their help.
E!E!
"Roy DeSoto," Roy said by way of introduction.
"Chet Kelly," came the voice behind him.
"Patrick Morgan," the pilot offered up to the two men boarding his chopper. "It's bad, fellas."
His words sank into the hearts of the two longtime friends; neither man looked at the other as they were lifted skyward but both looked down below at their fellow shift mates heading to their respective assignments.
Marco pulled open the white door and crawled into place, Johnny close on his heels.
"Hi, John Gage." Johnny never looked up as he began preparing for the rescues to come.
"Marco Lopez," the older man followed looking at their pilot.
"Richard Parker," the pilot spoke up. "Hang on, this is one helluva mess."
"Seen anybody?"
Richard knew what Gage meant and decided to answer him as truthfully as he could. "Yea…got one on a roof that looks like a fairly easy rescue. Gonna head to her first."
Marco and Johnny gave silent nods as Richard got them in the air then made a sharp turn to the left. He hovered not too far above the carnage flowing below them as they rushed to the roof where he'd last seen the woman clinging waiting for help. This time, he wouldn't have to see the look of horror in her eyes as he flew away from her because this time he'd have the help he needed to get her inside the chopper and to a safe location.
The third chopper was lifting off as Hank Stanley made the introductions. "Hello, Captain Hank Stanley. This is my engineer, Firefighter Specialist Mike Stoker."
The pilot acknowledged the duo then returned his attention to the task at hand. "Name's Alfred Carmack but most folks just call me Mack."
Mike felt his stomach drop suddenly as they began their trek across a flooded apartment complex. Rarely did he ever have to depend on someone else to get his crew to the scene and now, not only was he relinquishing his control to another person, but in a way he was surrendering it to three men; three different pilots who carried a portion of his crew with them. His heart slammed around inside his chest as he tried to force himself to breathe slowly. These three men were pilots and fellow firefighters. He'd trusted his life to other firefighters in the line of duty many times and this time was no different. Or so he tried to convince himself as they made their way toward a building where their pilot had seen two women struggling against the mud and sludge that had been rising around them earlier.
E!E!
Patrick looked into the sun as he turned toward the garage. The water level was rising and with it more debris was being caught up and pushed along with the torrents of water. Then, ahead he saw the young blonde haired woman huddled along the edge of the garage. He could see the water was rising and somehow knew what she was contemplating. No..don't step off that ledge! Part of a roof top was being swept along the side of the garage and it looked as if their victim might try to ride it to safety. Just when he thought she was going to step off, she looked up and began waving at him frantically.
Behind him, Chet and Roy were getting into place to assist her on board. Patrick slowly lowered the helicopter down until the skids were barely touching the top of the garage. Roy felt the touchdown and quickly exited the chopper with his lifeline tied on. Chet made sure the line was secure and let out only the amount Roy needed in order to reach the young woman. In less than a minute the shivering woman was safe inside the chopper scrambling to Chet for safety. She quickly pulled her knees to her chin and held them tightly, trying with all her might to slow down the shaking she was experiencing.
"Take it easy," Chet crooned. "You're safe now. We're gonna get ya outta here." He watched the blonde haired woman try to speak then saw her tears when she realized she couldn't.
"It's okay, you've had a bad scare. The shakes will go away and your voice will come back real soon. Are you hurt anywhere?" Roy waited for her response and was relieved when she nodded negatively.
The trip back to the staging area was brief. Roy opened the door and was greeted by another rescue man from 99's who helped the young woman out of the chopper. She tried to voice her gratitude to her three rescuers but once again was only able to offer them a quick smile. That was enough for the trio to feel good about the job they'd done. But the happiness was short lived as they were soon airborne again in search of more victims.
E!
Richard knew where he'd last seen the middle aged woman. She had been holding tightly to the gable end of her roof with one hand and cradling her copper colored Chihuahua with the other. She was wearing a bright red sweater, probably a Christmas sweater he surmised, which would make her easier to find. He knew he was near the place he'd last scene her house when he realized that the house was no longer on its foundation.
"There! Someone's on that roof!"
Richard recognized the voice as that of the young rescue man, John Gage. He looked in the direction the younger man was pointing and saw his victim, floating along still holding onto the roof of her house. Somehow, she was also still holding on to the tiny dog as well. "Damn it!" He looked ahead to see where the roof might be heading and saw a grove of tree tops directly in the path.
Johnny and Marco also saw what the pilot saw and knew what had to be done. Johnny tied on his lifeline as Marco secured it to the chopper. A second lifeline was quickly tied creating a type of harness. If the trees ahead could stop the forward progress of the roof for just a few minutes then Richard could get Gage close enough to be able to step out onto the roof, tie off the woman, and hopefully guide her into the awaiting chopper before the roof broke free and continued its tumultuous journey.
Beneath them, the woman held tightly to Penny, her Chihuahua puppy, as she watched the surreal scene unfold before her eyes. She was cold and in total shock from the nightmare she currently found herself in. She could hear a man's voice but it sounded very far away from her even though she could see Johnny standing just a few feet from her. She knew he was speaking to her but she had no idea what he was saying.
Johnny could tell that his victim wasn't comprehending the directions he was giving her. He also knew that he had very little time. Without warning, he quickly snatched the wet dog from her grasp then looped the lifeline around her securing it underneath her arms. "Ma'am? Ma'am, I need for you to try to stand for me. We've got to take a few steps over to that helicopter." When he got no response, he tried lifting her up slightly. Miraculously, her feet found enough of a hold to support her weight as he half guided and half carried her closer and closer to Marco's outstretched arms. Marco held onto the woman, easing her into the copter just as the roof beneath them shifted.
"JOHNNY," he called out when he saw the younger man slip then began pulling with every fiber of his being to bring his friend inside the safety of the chopper. Richard struggled to keep the chopper as still as possible knowing he had a man down on the slippery roof. Both he and Marco breathed a sigh of relief when Johnny's helmet and hands appeared in the doorway. With only seconds to spare, Marco tugged one last time pulling Johnny inside the chopper just as the roof lurched forward with a dying groan. Richard lifted them off again and the three men watched in horror as the roof broke in half and then splintered as additional debris slammed into it, breaking the tree tops as the debris pile floated away.
"Pe..Penny," the woman sniffed realizing that her companion had not made it inside the helicopter with her and yet not knowing when she'd lost her grip on the tiny dog.
Marco had seen Johnny removing the dog from the victim's grasp and knew that when it came to human life or canine life, the human won every time. He also knew that Gage was an animal lover and that he'd only done what was absolutely necessary at the moment. Still, he couldn't understand why his friend was breathing heavily leaning his back against the inside wall of the chopper with a goofy grin plastered across his face. Then he watched as Johnny dug deeply into his turnout coat pocket and withdrew a tiny, shivering, and wet copper colored dog.
"Penny!" The woman could hardly believe her eyes. The little dog yelped as she tried to wiggle free of Johnny's grasp.
"There ya go, girl," he said handing the dog back into the welcoming embrace of the crying woman in the red Christmas sweater.
"Tha…ah, thank…y-you." Her lips were trembling too much for her to form the words she was trying to say but finally she managed to get her words of gratitude out just as they landed in a grassy patch of ground near where several ambulances were waiting for victims.
As soon as their cargo was unloaded, the trio was off again in search of anyone else in need of rescuing.
E!E!
The sludge was knee deep by the time Mack had gotten his two firefighters to the scene of their rescue. He had managed to land on a small dirt mound but had told them that they'd need to be quick. The water was rising fast and he didn't know how long the dry mound would remain as such.
Hank and Mike both knew that the fastest way to rescue the two trapped women was to each take a victim and return her to the helicopter. They waded through the mud and debris as rapidly as they could but each found the going extremely slow. Whether it was from their adrenaline rush or from the weight of the muck on their boots, they weren't sure. Finally, they found themselves on one side of a short brick patio wall looking at two very frightened women on the other. The older of the two was sitting in a wheelchair with the other doing her best to block the debris from inflicting damage as it was washed by them.
"Cap, I got this one. Can you help the other lady?"
Hank knew without looking that Mike was assigning himself to the rescue of the wheelchair bound victim. He also knew there was no time to argue; Mike was younger and stronger. He held out his hand to the younger woman who gratefully accepted it then helped ease her over the three foot high wall without losing her footing. He pulled her arm over his shoulder, holding his other around her waist as they trudged back to the awaiting helicopter. He knew that the quicker he got her safe inside the chopper the sooner he could return to help Mike.
The trip seemed to take hours but Hank knew it was only a matter of moments for the two of them to traverse the distance from the flooded patio to the helicopter. He helped the younger woman inside then turned to make the trip back to help Mike with his rescue. Much to his surprise, Mike had already managed to pull the woman over his shoulder and was slowly and carefully closing the gap between them.
It took more effort than Mike had ever remembered using to carry such a frail victim to safety but then again, he'd never done it with sacks of lead tied to his feet before either. The slow movement of his legs through the mushy filthy water was painfully slow but he managed to get within a few yards of the chopper door when he felt her weight being lifted off his back. Panic filled his veins as he thought she was being swept away from his grasp but the voice of his captain calmed him down.
"I got her now, Mike."
Mike inhaled a deep breath as he relinquished his burden to his superior. He quickly turned to assist Hank in getting the woman and his own fatigued self safely inside then slammed the door shut behind them. He heard soft muffled cries coming from the two hugging women and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the helicopter as Mack lifted off heading for the refuge of the awaiting triage area.
E!E!
The rescues continued for a couple of hours, each one seemingly more difficult than the last. Roy and Chet pulled an elderly man to safety who had somehow managed to hold onto the roof of his car that became lodged between two buildings. Marco and Johnny helped rescue a father and his teenage daughter from the roof of a grocery store while Mack positioned Hank and Mike to aid a man clinging to the base of a small tree with one hand and a fence with the other. Over and over again the men of Station 51 and the fire department pilots risked their own lives in an effort to save others. Not everyone was rescued but they couldn't focus on those lost at the moment. Their minds had to stay sharp as their energy waned and their fatigued muscles burned in protest to the torture. As they neared the end of the rescues, seventeen people had been spared a watery death. But there was still one left frantically waving his arms and tossing out bright colored clothing in the hopes that one of the men on the helicopters he'd seen passing him might see his desperate pleas for help.
Patrick continued his low flyover searching the floating piles of debris for signs of life. If there was anyone left alive in this mess, he was going to find them. He hovered over an older home just as it broke apart sending pieces of the once happy family dwelling drifting along like match sticks in a stream; except this time the match sticks were two by fours and the stream was a raging river.
"Patrick…look…eleven o'clock!"
Patrick lifted his gaze in the direction Roy had indicated and his breath caught in his throat. There was a man stuffing clothing out of his second story window. A mountain of debris had effectively imprisoned the man inside his home as it continued to pile up around the entrance of his apartment. The second floor walkway lined with a railing and support posts had acted as a hand with fingers and gripped the passing debris into a tighter and tighter grasp.
Chet and Roy discussed the best means of rescuing the man. The only exit they could see was the window from which he was leaning out. They both knew it would be risky but they saw no other way. Chet was lighter than Roy so the decision was an easy one. Once Patrick reached the roof of the building, Chet would make his way from the roof down to the floor below and carefully move along the railing until he reached the edge nearest the window. Then he'd toss a lifeline to the man and talk him through securing himself. He just hoped he could talk him into jumping into the cold raging waters when that time came.
"Careful, Chet. I've got you anchored here."
Chet looked at Roy one last time as he stepped out of the helicopter, one lifeline tied securely around his waist and the other looped loosely across his chest. He held on to anything within reach as he teetered along the railing in his bulky boots, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally reached the end post. He looked around the side of the pale yellow building in search of the window where he'd last seen the desperate man.
"Hey…can ya hear me?"
"Y-yea…I'm over here." To Chet, the man's voice sounded just as desperate as his actions had indicated.
"Are ya hurt?" Chet needed to know if the man was going to be able to secure the lifeline around him.
"I..I don't..th..think so." The stuttered reply concerned the firefighter but he pressed on knowing that time was not on their side.
"Are there others with ya?"
"No," the one word reply sounded fainter.
"Ok, here's what we're gonna do…"
Roy felt helpless inside the chopper knowing that his help was sorely needed but also knowing that this was unfortunately a one man job and right now his job was to ensure that the lifelines stayed solid and to help pull the victim to safety. He looked down at the white knuckled grip he had on the rope and released it enough for the circulation to return to his numb fingers. He watched the color slowly return and the stinging sensation it brought with it reminded him to refocus his attention to the rescue at hand.
"Sonofabitch!" Chet grumbled as he repeatedly tried to toss the lifeline to his victim, knowing the waters were rising. Each time he threw it, it landed just outside of the man's grasp and he watched in frustration as the man stretched farther and farther out the window trying to find the rope. He too knew they were running out of time. Finally, in a move that would not win him any accolades for following safety protocol, he removed his turnout coat. If he could somehow give his victim a larger target to grasp then maybe he could get the rope to him. Holding onto the pole with the crook of his arm, he looped the lifeline to his coat then laid it as close to the wall as he could. The man in the window nodded his understanding and with one final act of desperation, Chet let his turnout coat go. He watched as it drifted, miraculously staying near the wall, until it came within reach of the victim.
"YES!" He crowed when he saw the man grab onto the sleeve and pull the line free from the garment. He quickly looped it beneath his armpits just as Chet had instructed. Chet signaled to Roy that the lifeline was in place and the long awaited extrication of the victim from his home was finally underway.
Inside the chopper, Roy was slowly reeling in the lifeline of the victim, anxious to get this particular rescue over, when he felt a sudden jolt of the chopper. "What happened?" He asked knowing full well the answer Patrick was going to give him.
"Damn roof shifted."
Roy heard the unmistakable alarm in the pilot's voice. "Come on, come on," he urged through his gritted teeth then blew out his breath when he saw hands and reddish brown hair rising above the roofline. His thoughts became desperate knowing that the sooner the victim was on board the sooner Chet could climb on board and the sooner they could get off this God forsaken makeshift island.
Once the victim was on the roof top, he managed a combination of crawling and dragging himself to the waiting chopper where Roy quickly helped him inside. "You alright?"
The man could only nod affirmatively, his energy completely spent.
Roy returned his efforts to Chet's lifeline. He kept the tension tight feeling Chet inching his way back to the railing where he could climb back onto the roof. Roy felt himself shaking trying to hurry the process along when another jolt shook the chopper. This time, the line in his hand went limp lying across the roof and Roy knew the unthinkable had happened.
Patrick had to make a decision that no rescue pilot ever wants to make. He had a civilian on board and time was up. The roof was collapsing and even though Chet remained out there, he could no longer remain on the roof without risking all of their lives, including the man they'd just pulled to safety. "Shit! Roy, gotta get off this roof. We'll come back, I swear!"
Roy's blue eyes darted back and forth along the edge of the roof knowing in his head that Patrick was right but the knowledge simply couldn't penetrate his aching heart. He couldn't leave his brother, his longtime friend, out there alone to perish. "CHHEEET!" He screamed the name hearing nothing but rushing water and the creaking and groaning noises of a dying community in return and as he pulled the end of the lifeline back inside the chopper, he felt the heaviest weight he'd ever known; he feared he'd just watched his friend die.
Chet had just reached the pole when he heard and felt the creaking and groaning of the building. "Oh no,..oh hell no!" He latched onto the pole wrapping his arms and legs around it like a frightened child holds onto a parent. He felt Roy pulling on the rope, his only source of safety, when suddenly the rope went slack. He looked around at the frayed ends waving in the stream of water and realized what had happened. The repeated tugging across the debris had caused it to begin to fray then when the building shifted a large piece of sharp metal on the edge of the roof had given the death slash to his lifeline. "Aww…" Expletives spewed from his mouth as he felt the pit of his stomach draw up in knots and his breath rushing out of his lungs; above him, the chopper was lifting off, leaving him cold, aching and exhausted clinging to a small metal post in the middle of a raging river while the building continued to groan pitifully in its death throes.
Roy watched helplessly as they lifted away from his shift mate. He fought the urge to vomit as he watched Chet holding on to the pole around a crumbling building. Hang on, Chet…we'll be back soon, I promise. Just hang on a little longer, please.
E!E!
"You fellas see anything?"
Marco flashed a quick glance at his pilot then returned his gaze to the disaster below. They were flying just a few yards above the water searching for anything that might indicate there were more victims.
"Wait, hold it…is that…NO!" Johnny watched below him as a turnout coat came floating into view. As it neared the chopper he recognized the name on the back and gulped in horror. Even though it was tumbling in the swift water the name KELLY was clearly visible. Beside him, he heard Marco begin mumbling in Spanish and knew he'd seen the same thing. "Hey…hey, Richard, that's one of our guys…that turnout…that's one of ours!" Johnny knew that in his hyper-anxious state, his babbling probably wasn't making any sense to his pilot but he was relieved when the pilot acknowledged him.
"I see it. I'll swing up in the direction it was floating from. Let me know if you see him." Richard knew that the likelihood of finding the fireman alive was lessening with each passing second but he wasn't going to give up; not until they pulled his lifeless body from the water.
Back at the pole, Chet continued to shiver. Without his turnout coat, his upper body was no longer shielded from the cold water. His grasp was growing weaker and he could no longer feel the ends of his fingers. "Uh…guys…little he..help, please." His mind drifted back over all the pranks the Phantom had pulled over the years; especially those played on his favorite target. He remembered how upset Johnny had been with him earlier this morning when he'd blabbed to the other guys about his beach fiasco. He just wished somehow that he could apologize to Johnny. He didn't want that encounter to be how his friend remembered him. His teeth chattered as water began to slip inside his bunker pants weighing him down even more. He knew that if he had any chance of surviving long enough for Patrick and Roy to return to rescue him then he'd have to get out of the heavy pants; something he was not looking forward to doing in the cold swift water. Just as he pulled the red suspenders off his shoulders with one hand he lost his grip with the other. Daylight turned to darkness as the swift water quickly divested him of his bunkers pulling him under. As soon as his feet were free he managed to surface, gagging and spitting the putrid water he'd inhaled. He felt the sharp splinters of jagged pieces of wood piercing his body in various places while the raging water slammed him about. His arms flailed searching for anything solid to grab on to as more debris, sharp and metallic, tore at his uniform and underlying flesh. Again he was sucked under in the current and this time he swallowed large amounts of the filthy water feeling his lungs burn in search of air. Finally, he surfaced again spitting and sputtering as nausea swept over him. He didn't know if it was from the water he'd swallowed or the fear in his gut that caused it. But one thing he did know…if he got pulled under again, it would be for the last time.
Inside copter two, Johnny and Marco continued to search amid the destruction.
"There…is that…" Marco hesitated when he realized he wasn't seeing his friend but just his bunkers floating along.
"What the hell's he doin'?" Johnny couldn't imagine why Chet seemed to be stripping unless hypothermia was setting in and he was confused.
"Hey fellas, three o'clock!"
Both men turned to the right where Richard had indicated and there they saw Chet's pale face, barely above the waterline. He appeared to be clinging to a chain link fence but the water was still rising and both Marco and Johnny knew they had to reach him fast; if it wasn't already too late.
Richard surveyed their surroundings for a place to put down but found nothing suitable. "Hey, I can drop you guys off on that roof but I can't land there." He nodded his head in the direction of a small gas station a few yards from Chet's current location. "You wanna see if you can get him to the roof? At least you'll have him outta the water while I figure something out." Richard had seen a promising small car dealership with an intact roof just on the opposite side of the chain link fence. There were tree branches shading most of it from the large decades old trees planted on both sides of the business. The coverage from the limbs was too much to be able to get his skids in there but he had an idea.
After Johnny and Marco gained their footing on the small rooftop, Johnny called out to Chet to let him know they were there…and to reassure himself that the Irishman was still alive.
"Chet! Chet can ya hear me?" Johnny continued to call out while Marco secured their lines to whatever seemed sturdy enough to hold them.
"Whu…huh?" In Chet's dazed condition he thought he heard Johnny's shrieking voice.
"Chester B. Kelly, over here!"
"J-Johnny?" Chet moaned moving his head in the direction of the voice.
Johnny didn't hear Chet call his name but he definitely saw his head movement. "Marco, he's alive but he's weak. I gotta get to 'im fast."
"Lines are ready, John. I'll anchor you. Go get him." The determination on Marco's face was unmistakably clear.
Johnny's flexibility and light weight made him the perfect man for this rescue. There was a pile of floating debris that had gotten pressed up against the fence. Chet had somehow managed to climb over the fence so that the debris wasn't crushing him but it looked to Johnny like perhaps he'd gotten hung on the wire. Johnny walked as sure footedly as a cat stealthily making his way to his friend with Marco releasing his slack. Once he finally got to him, his elation was short lived. Chet was battered and bruised, reminding Johnny of what he looked like as well. He was pale and his lips were turning blue. "Chet, hang on man. I gotcha." Johnny tried to slip the lifeline over Chet's shoulders but he realized that the man's torn and bloody shirt was hung on the fence near his lower back. He climbed into the water and dove down to release the hold the fence had on his friend.
Chet felt something touching him around his waist and nearly panicked with the fear that he was going to be pulled under again. Suddenly, Johnny's wet head popped up in front of him, slinging the disgusting water from his hair reminding Chet of a dog shaking his head. "Wha…aww, heeyy, Gaggge," the wilting man slurred.
"Hang on, Pally. You got yourself caught pretty good here." Johnny sucked in another breath and disappeared beneath the waters one more time as the rising water reached Chet's ears causing him to tilt his head back so that his face was farther out of the water.
Chet felt more movement then slipped away from the fence. His strength completely diminished as he floated away. Marco saw what was happening and pulled tightly on the line only to realize Johnny hadn't yet secured it to their friend. He shouted curses in the language of his ancestors as he continued to watch Johnny and Chet struggle.
Johnny's lifeline tightened jerking him to a halt just as he grabbed Chet's waistband with his sore arm, clinging to the fence with the other. He grunted into the murky water, his aching shoulder screaming in protest of the abuse.
Chet tried to brace himself for the inevitable sinking into the foreboding swirling waters. He held his breath until the sharp pain in his groin made him cough out his scream. "Oouugnh!" He searched for something to hold onto but his flailing arms found nothing solid.
"Quit fightin' me, man. Relax..I gotcha!" Johnny's instructions were shouted through gritted teeth as he dug his fingers into Chet's waistband feeling the material stretch within his grasp, the pain in his shoulder excruciating.
Suddenly, the noise of a straining helicopter and shattering wood pulled his attention away from the pain and he looked over his left shoulder. What he saw left him mesmerized.
Marco too heard the noise. He gripped Johnny's lifeline tighter, his muscles beginning to tire from the strain. He looked over in the area of the piercing crunches and couldn't believe his eyes. Suddenly, the line he was pulling against loosened and panic tightened his chest.
"Breathe, Lopez."
Marco turned around to see Roy had been dropped off too and had made it to him, giving him a hand with the line. Another thundering noise roared overhead, and Marco and Roy looked up just as copter three whirled above them.
Richard and Mack had been friends for a long time but even Mack had no idea just how much of a risk taker Richard actually was. The two had been in constant communication since Chet had been located and now Mack was just as stunned as the rest of Station 51. Richard was using the rotor blades on the chopper he was piloting to cut away the overhanging limbs blocking access to the roof of the car dealership. Mack hovered close enough to let Richard know when the roof top was open.
"That's it, Richard. I can set her down now."
"10-4," Richard acknowledged as copter two moved away and copter three eased into place. As soon as the skids touched down, Hank and Mike poured from the side.
They had already formulated their plan of action. The swift waters were rushing past them on the edge of the roof line and they could tell that Johnny's strength was quickly fading. Chet needed to get out of the water fast, a fact to which his contorted and pain filled face attested.
"John, if we throw you a line can you get it on him?"
Johnny was heaving gasping for air at the strain he was under. He sucked in two deep breaths before he could answer his superior. "Naw…can't…leggo." His arm was growing numb and his fingers were cramping as he gripped Chet's waistband even tighter, again feeling the stretch the rushing water was causing the material.
"Cap, I can climb across this debris and get close enough to get a line on him."
Hank didn't hesitate long. The idea of placing a third member of his crew in harm's way didn't appeal to him in the least but he knew how close his men were and there was no way he was going to stand in the way of a possible rescue…the only possible rescue. "Alright, let's get you tied off."
Moments later, with everyone in the crew counting on him, Mike gingerly crawled across the floating planks, rooftops and various other pieces of the lives of those who had lived near the Baldwin Hills Reservoir. Johnny watched carefully, his lungs and arms burning beyond what he thought he could withstand. Chet had stopped fighting him and had given up finding anything solid to hold onto. He now lay limply in the rushing water, his face a vision of physical torment.
Finally, Mike got close enough to Chet to secure a lifeline to him then signaled his Captain. Mack had gotten out of the chopper and joined Hank knowing that the captain would need some help pulling Chet's entire body weight against the raging current.
"John, he's secure…let him go."
Johnny held his breath not sure if he could do what Mike was telling him to do.
Mike saw Johnny's hesitation and encouraged him again. "Johnny, Cap's got him now. Let him go so we can get him outta this water….it's ok, Gage…just let him go."
As if hearing Mike for the first time, Johnny turned slowly to see Mike's eyes boring holes into his soul. There was no judgment or forcefulness in the engineer's firm voice. He understood what Johnny was thinking as he continued to encourage the younger man. "He'll be safe, Johnny. You did it…you kept him from drowning…now, let go."
Johnny didn't feel his fingers straightening out to release his friend but he sucked in a quick breath as he saw the curly dark hair drifting out away from him. Chet didn't go far as Hank and Mack began pulling him in to the top of the car dealership.
"Johnny, can you reach out to me? You're line's about to snap."
John looked at his lifeline and saw where it had become frayed on the wire of the fence. He wasn't sure that it would hold him long enough for Roy and Marco to pull him back in. He looked back over just as Mack and Hank pulled Chet out of the water, shredded shirt untucked, laying him on his stomach on the roof. He watched as Chet coughed and sputtered.
"See, he's ok…now it's our turn. Come on," Mike reached out and Johnny began climbing along the fence the two feet it took to reach the outstretched hand.
Roy and Marco stood slapping each other on the back as Johnny and Mike were pulled closer and closer to safety. Above them, their pilot hovered waiting for them to give him the signal they were ready to be picked up.
On the other side of the fence, Hank was pulling Johnny out of the water just as Mike held out his hand to Mack. Soon there were three wet men lying on the rooftop with two dry men checking them over.
Johnny didn't like the attention; he was much more concerned about Chet. He brushed aside Hank's hand leaning up on one elbow breathing hard from the exertion. "Kel…Kelly, you.. a'right?"
Chet grimaced shaking his head negatively. The pain in his groin and backside told him he might never be alright again.
"Wha…where ya… hurt," Johnny asked worriedly?
"Ma…my ASS…aarghugh," he began retching the contents of his stomach.
Mike had just pulled himself up to a seated position when Chet began to vomit and in true quiet Stoker fashion he stated," well…I did say I wanted to see it, Johnny."
Johnny followed Mike's gaze to the retching lineman and a crooked smile spread broadly across his features. He watched Mike reach over and lift up the light blue shirt revealing a very stretched band from a pair of white briefs; the band situated high up the heaving man's back. All four men knew where the underwear had ultimately ended up as well as what part of Chet's anatomy was being crushed in the front. "Ah..ahhaahaa…oh this is great…heehee!"
"Real…funny…Gage," Chet said between heaves then began the difficult task of removing his very stretched underwear from between his lower cheeks. His rescue had resulted in the worst wedgie of his entire life.
"Haha…need some help there, Pal?"
No way was he going to allow Johnny near his waist anytime soon and he made his point with a very sarcastic smirk on his face. He watched as Johnny's laughing face blurred, his laughter echoing into the darkness as the daydream faded away.
E!
Johnny returned to the room with his stack of copies, and a bit of knowledge he needed to share with Chet about their engineer. He watched Chet's face contort in a grimace as he stared at the empty spot on the wooden table.
"Uh..need some help there, Pal?"
"Whu…ah, don't touch me, damn it." Chet looked into the stunned face of his research partner, realizing he was no longer in 1963.
Johnny jumped slightly, taken aback by the harshness of Chet's response.
"Oh, uh…geez, I'm sorry Gage. Don't know what I was thinkin'."
Johnny flashed his trademark grin. "No problem, you ready to go?"
"Yea…I think I have what we need," Chet stammered standing slowly, just to make sure the pain he'd felt earlier was only a daydream, then began replacing the reference materials back on the shelf.
"Man, Chet…you will not believe what I found out from Ryleigh. Stoker's been holdin' out on us."
Normally, Chet would have been annoyed by Johnny's nonstop talking but not today. The two friends walked out of the library with Johnny continuing to share the information he'd garnered from Ryleigh about her crush on their engineer; Chet on the other hand, walked to the familiar white rover with a feeling of gratitude for his sometimes annoying friend…and a determination to see this project through to its ultimate fulfillment.
E!
A/N:
1. 'Surf City', 1963, Jan & Dean, written by Brian Wilson/Jan Berry.
2. From the Historical Archives of the Los Angeles Fire Department:
On the afternoon of December 14th, 1963, with swift suddenness, improbable tragedy struck the Baldwin Hills section of Los Angeles. Lost homes, ruined property and even death flooded downward on a broad river of rushing water from the broken dam at the head of Cloverdale Road. Automobiles, fragments of houses, and chunks of concrete were rolled and jammed like logs down the flume of the flood's path to the bottom and deposited in incongruous heaps on the ruins of Village Green, which minutes before had been a quiet Saturday-relaxed apartment community.
In the rushing disaster unwary residents were trapped. On roofs, in second floor rooms, on small insecure islands of debris, they signaled desperately for help.
And help was swift to come. Distinguished among the rescuers were Fire Department members who reported to the scene. Their training, courage and knowledge of how to act in emergency situations made their help more significant than that of any other agency.
Unique in the rescue effort was the work of the three helicopter pilots dispatched to the scene, Fireman Theodore M. "Bud" Nelson, Crash 90-C, Fireman Ross H. Reynolds, Crash 90-B and Fireman Howard L. Payne, Crash 90-C.
"Eighteen persons were rescued and flown out to a safe location . . . at least six of these, and quite possibly more, could not have been rescued in any other way an would have been lost except for the fire dep't. helicopter.
Most dramatic of all is the report of Fireman Bud Nelson. In a few short paragraphs the rescue drama unfolds. Bud had sighted people in distress, and returned from a mission to rescue them: "When I arrived over the garage," his report states, "the part where I originally thought I might be able to land had collapsed and was under water . . . The part of the garage that still looked strong enough to land on had trees on the North and East sides and the limbs hung over the garage just enough so that there was not enough room for the rotor blades to clear. I decided to gamble a little as the water was still getting deeper (about 8 or 9 feet deep by now). I hovered in very slowly from the Southwest corner of the garage with my skids about 1 to 2 feet above the roof and started to clip the smaller lower branches from the trees with the rotor blades. I was finally able to move in far enough to get a solid place for the skids . . .
There is more-much more-that tells of resourcefulness and devotion to the saving of lives. To sum up, Chief Nelson's report says it best.
"May I call to your attention," he says, "that these rescues involved not only the flying hazards but, in many cases, the problem of rescuing the victims from the water before getting them to the helicopter. Our men, with ropes tied to them, actually allowed themselves to be swept out by the swift current to a position for rescue of victims. I do not differentiate between the men on specific rescues because each man risked his life several times during the day . . .
"It is my opinion that these men-Reynolds, Nelson, and Payne-not only proved beyond doubt the value and efficiency of our helicopter program and the training that has gone into it, but that they displayed a dedication to their profession and a courage that was beyond the normal call of duty. They each placed their lives on the line time and time again, without regard to their own safety to save the lives of citizens of this city, and were successful in so doing."