Little Boy Lost

Chapter Eleven

By GCS

Disclaimer: I am guilty of any accusations of plagiarizing the skilled writers of the best TV show ever produced...all mannerisms...plot lines...and excessive use of cannon (and some fannon) attributes. They are not mine. I only use them for my own personal entertainment and anyone else's who wants to enjoy my writings. I am also guilty of abstaining from the continuous negative debate currently running rampant in this fandom. If you choose to boycot my stories because I refuse to be a part of this debate then that is your choice. I will continue writing and posting for my own pleasure. Sadly, this issue and my chosen impartiality has cost me several friendships that I held dear to my heart, but I will not be bullied into picking sides. This is my little world of makebelieve, and no one will dictate to me how to play in it (except maybe the site administration).

My heartfelt thanks to those who continue to read and take the time to review! My skills grow from your comments (both positive and constructive).

Johnny sighed deeply…then turned back toward the table. His little tirade had taken its toll. He suddenly felt very tired.

With renewed purpose Jimbo asked, "Do you want me to warm up your soup?" as he stepped closer to the table intending on getting the bowl.

Johnny slowly nodded his head and reached for the table. He felt weak in the knees. Jimbo immediately grabbed his arm which startled him, and he jerked away almost stumbling. "I…I don't want anymore."

"Hey, take it easy. You agreed to let me help you…remember?"

Johnny looked at Jimbo. Slowly he nodded.

"Then let me help you back to bed. Then I'll bring you some more aspirin."

"Okay." Johnny said softly. He felt Jimbo move over beside him and take him by the elbow while his other hand reached around his back. At first he tensed, but after a few seconds he relaxed and began moving toward the kitchen and his cot.

"Listen kid, I know those thugs beat the crap out of you last night, and I know there is more to your situation than you have told me about."

Johnny stopped and looked at Jimbo. 'How does he know? What does he know?'

Jimbo looked back at Johnny and chuckled. "Remember I'm a retired Cop. I have connections. Anyway…" He nudged Johnny to start moving again. "It's really none of my business unless you want to talk about it."

Just as they moved through the door to the kitchen they heard a loud crash and glass splintering across the dining area floor. Johnny felt himself being slammed down on the floor; the air rushing from his lungs as he heard Jimbo yell, "Get down."

A few seconds later the heavy weight of the older, heavier man lifted. "What the hell was that?" Jimbo said softly as he cracked open the door and peeked out. What he saw made him immediately jump to his feet. "Get out the back door! I'll call the fire department." He slipped through the door and quickly moved over to the phone behind the counter.

Johnny managed to get some air into his lungs. His already sore ribs now ached with renewed force. He rolled over on his side and saw smoke begin drifting beneath the swinging door. A sense of urgency swept over the young man. Forgetting his aches and tiredness, Johnny rose to his full height and peered through the round window. Glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen looking for something that he might use to snuff out the growing flames, his eyes settled on a fire extinguisher which he moved toward immediately pulling it from the holder on the wall.

Jimbo looked up from the phone as he gave directions to dispatch to see Johnny burst through the swaying doors armed with the fire extinguisher.

Johnny pulled the pin, and with the hose in his hand pointed and began spraying the contents over the flames, sweeping from side to side. It was a large extinguisher designed specifically for a professional kitchen, but he didn't know if it would be big enough. He hoped he might keep the flames from spreading beyond the accelerant that had been inside the beer bottle before the fabric that hung from the top had been lit with flame. The broken glass from the door mixed with the shards of brown glass that had shattered and slid across the smooth surface of the floor creating tendrils to extend the damage further into the room.

Johnny watched the flames as they danced across the splattered liquid…skipping from droplet to droplet and flitting down the paths of the spreading liquid, devouring every inch of life provided by the elixir. He moved along the length of the burning liquid as the flames moved. The sensation of power seeped through his veins as he worked to gain control. Determination to prevent destruction of the diner directed his every move.

Jimbo hung up the phone. Grabbing a broom, he began sweeping the glass toward the dwindling fire to keep it from spreading back toward him and the boy skillfully wielding the fire extinguisher.

Within minutes sirens could be heard approaching. A mixture of blue and red flashing lights bounced off the windows reflecting back into the night sky. Johnny had just about extinguished the fire and still stood over the charred tile with the large extinguisher in his hands. The earlier weakness forgotten, he felt a surge of energy and excitement about having practically put out the small fire.

What was left of the diner door opened and a man dressed in turnouts with a white striped helmet came in along with two other firemen dragging a hose. "Looks like we're not even needed here." The man with the white striped helmet said smiling at Johnny and Jimbo. "What happened here, Jimbo?"

Jimbo stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom while addressing the fire captain. "Hey, Captain McKonikee. Some neighborhood thugs decided to break my door out with a molotov cocktail. It doesn't look like they knew exactly how to make one though." He swept his arm across his damp forehead and looked at the damage before him.

"Well I guess that's lucky for you." Captain McKonikee chuckled. "Who's the kid? He looks like hell."

McKonikee's words brought Jimbo back from his worries about the damage, and he looked with pride at his charge. "That's my new friend John Gage. I suspect the thugs that did this are the ones who beat the crap out of him last night in my alley while stealing all of his money."

"Well whoever he is he did a good job putting out that fire."

Johnny blushed as Captain McKonikee looked at him. He backed away from the mess and before he realized it someone was taking the extinguisher from his hands. "You did good kid. Ever think about becoming a firefighter?" Johnny looked at the man with interest. "I think you're a natural." The man gripped his shoulder. "But you can relax now and let the professionals finish up."

Johnny moved back a little more and Jimbo walked up beside him. "Thank you John."

"What?" Johnny asked him. "I didn't do nothin'…just sprayed the extinguisher on it." He shrugged.

"Who taught you to do that?" Jimbo wondered. Knowing how to use a fire extinguisher was not something that everyone knew how to do.

"Back at the center, all of the older kids were taught how to use one in case of a fire. It's no big deal." The attention he was getting made him nervous. He was relieved when a police officer came in and came over to get a report from Jimbo.

"Jimbo?" The tall black officer said the greeting with a questioning tone. "What happened here?" He waved his notepad at the charred spot.

"Hey Vince, some street kids trying to make a statement." Jimbo commented with disgust as he shook hands with the officer.

Johnny didn't like the idea of the police being there. He knew they had to come and get a statement from Jimbo, but he didn't want to be a part of any questions by the authorities. He backed away from the group and slipped into the kitchen.

Part of him wanted to escape out the back door, while another part of him wanted to stay and watch the firemen work. He looked back out the windows to the red truck. The red flashing lights were mesmerizing; the way the men worked together impressive. One of the men stood beside the truck making adjustments on a panel of controls. He reached down and lifted the small hose the men were using to wash down the still smoking tile and wall. Johnny watched the man look over his shoulder at the men inside thinking it must be his job to make sure the water pressure is enough to fill the hose. Suddenly their eyes met and the fireman smiled at Johnny who immediately diverted his eyes and moved further into the darkened room.

The weariness that had plagued him earlier seemed to be slowly returning as Johnny stood in the dark watching. His throat felt scratchy from breathing the smoke. His head began to ache again. When the firemen began pulling the hose back out of the diner he turned and made his way back to the office where he could lay down, leaving Jimbo to handle the rest. Sleep claimed him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Red flashing lights and men dressed in turnouts fighting fires filtered into this dreams.