"Freedom Is Just a State of Mind"

Chapter Twelve

Squad 51's on-duty paramedics entered Rampart General Hospital's Emergency Receiving ward and began making their way to Conference Room A.


Gage and DeSoto met up with some of their off-duty colleagues in the corridor, not far from where their 'special' Paramedics' Advisory Committee's meeting was to take place.

"Hey, Johnny!" Terry Macklin, from 45's called out and grabbed Gage by the arm. "You seen that new nurse over in Pediatrics yet?"

"Can't say as I have," Johnny told him.

Macklin got a sort a' moonstruck look on his face. "She's gorgeous! And single."

"That's nice," Johnny remarked and attempted to leave.

Terry tightened his grip on his wrist. "None of us have been able to get a date with her."

"She's also 'smart'," Gage teased and tried to leave—again.

Macklin pulled him to a stop once more. "Five buck's'll get you in on the 'action'…"

"Not interested," Johnny told him and attempted to free his right wrist.

"Ah. C'mon, John. The pot's already up to forty-five bucks."

"Thanks for the offer, Terry. But I am definitely not interested," Johnny repeated, a little more forcefully, and finally succeeded in prying the off-duty paramedic's appendage from his right arm.


"What do you suppose this 'special' meeting is all about?" John pondered, once he'd caught back up with his partner.

"I'm guessing it's about that 'Advanced Paramedical Research Program'," Roy replied. "The deadline to sign up for it is noon—today."

"I heard that nobody has signed up for it—yet."

"Yeah. Well, how do THEY expect guys to volunteer for something that they know nothing about?"

"Yeah," Gage agreed. "It would have to someone who was either really curious, or really dedicated."

"Or really dumb," Roy lightly tacked on.

The two of them traded smiles and then joined their fellow committeemen in the conference room.


Inside Conference Room A at Rampart General, forty-five minutes later…

"As you know," Dr. Mike Morton addressed the Los Angeles County Fire Department paramedics in attendance, "the deadline for volunteers to sign up for the 'Advanced Paramedical Research Program' is noon—today."

His audience looked like they could care less.

Morton looked tremendously disappointed. "C'mon, people! It seems to me, that out of sixty paramedics, we ought to be able to get at least two volunteers…"

"And it seems to me," Mark Lawes cynically shot back, "that THEY ought to be able to at least tell us a little about what it is that we'd be volunteering for."

His fellow firemen nodded in agreement.

"THEY don't want the program's objectives to become general knowledge—just yet," Morton patiently explained. "If you want to find out more about the program, you're just gonna have to volunteer."

Lawes remained dissatisfied—and cynical. "Doc, how can we possibly find out more about the program, when we haven't been told anything about it? All this 'secrecy' leads me to believe that what we'd be volunteering for must be so awful, that THEY are afraid to tell us."

Once again, his fellow firemen nodded in agreement.

"Know what I think?" J.T. suddenly piped up. "I think that this 'program' is some kind a' 'test'. I think that THEY are going to sign up everyone who doesn't volunteer for this, just to teach us a lesson."

His fellow paramedics stared at him, and then at each other, in disbelief.

Gage, who'd been just sitting there, staring blankly off into space since the meeting first started, suddenly straightened up in his seat. His head slowly swung in J.T.'s direction and he locked gazes with him. "You think—you actually think—that THEY would go through all this, just to teach a bunch a guys with a lousy attitude a lesson about proper motivation?"

J.T. suddenly looked a little—er, a lot less certain of his theory. "Nahhh. I guess not."

"Well, I do!" Johnny announced. That said, he reached across the conference table and latched onto the blank Volunteer sheet. Then he pulled a pen from his front shirt pocket and signed his name beside the number 1.

His fellow paramedics stared at him, and then at each other, looking completely astounded.

Johnny shoved the sign up sheet back across the table and the pen back into his front shirt pocket, and then resumed staring…blankly…off into space.

For the longest time, DeSoto was too dumbstruck to speak.


"Do you realize what you just did?" Roy angrily demanded, once he'd regained his speech. "THEY always use 'partners', partner! Two guys! By volunteering yourself, you just automatically volunteered me! Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm basically a curious, dedicated, dumb guy!" his partner smartly replied. "But, mostly curious."

His buddy's hard, accusatorial gaze softened and he was forced to smile. Roy didn't say another word. He simply snatched up the Volunteer sheet and signed his name, right below his partner's.

Their fellow committeemen exchanged thoughtful glances and then, one by one, they added their signatures to the sign up sheet, as well.

Dr. Mike Morton just stood there at the head of the conference table, smiling delightedly.


A short time later, in Rampart's Emergency Receiving…

Johnny was standing in front of the counter at the Nurses' Station, waiting for an 'authorized person' to come along, so he could get the drugs and medical supplies they needed to restock their rescue squad.

His partner was currently utilizing the MEN's room.

RN Toni Gilmore came down the corridor and stepped right up beside the waiting paramedic. "Hi."

John jerked, startled by the pretty nurse's sudden appearance—and extremely close proximity. "Uhhh. Hi," he finally managed to get out.

Nurse Gilmore continued to 'close in' on his position, until the two of them were finally facing one another.

The young woman looked up and locked her beautiful brown eyes onto his. "Word around the hospital is, that you are no longer participating in the…'betting pool'. Is that true?"

The fireman was completely flabbergasted. John wasn't sure what he found most surprising—er, disturbing: the fact that the nurses seemed to know about their little 'betting pool', or the speed at which the hospital's 'grapevine' could convey gossip. "Uhhh. Yeah," he confessed, once he'd gotten his ability to speak back. "But how did you—?"

"—In that case," Toni interrupted him, "give me a call sometime…soon," she slyly added and slipped something into the right front pocket of his uniform shirt.

Gage was even more flabbergasted. He would've liked to have said something but, before he could get his voice back again, Nurse Gilmore was gone.

Roy showed up right about then and turned their supply list over to Dixie.

Johnny noticed the beautiful blonde behind the counter—for the first time—and his bottom jaw fell open. "How long have you been standing there?"

The RN managed a mischievous smile. "Long enough."


A little while later, out in the hospital's parking lot…

Gage was crouched down, and DeSoto was standing, in front of their rescue truck's open side compartments, stowing their restocked medical supplies away.

"What did you mean, when you said that you want do something different…without doing something different?" Roy suddenly—and quite casually—inquired.

"I dunno," his partner replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I guess I'd just like to be able to…fish a drunk out of swimming pool without getting knocked out cold and nearly drowned. Or fight a brushfire without falling into an abandoned bomb shelter and nearly breaking my neck. And it would be real nice, if I could respond to a freeway pileup or a refinery fire without being exposed to toxic gases. Or if I could maybe get an accident victim up out of a canyon without being buried by a rockslide. And it would be just dandy if I could deliver a cardiac patient to the hospital without being attacked by some psycho cop at a traffic stop. Or if I could prevent a freeway pileup without having to drive a semi off an onramp. Or if I could just climb a stinkin' communication tower without 'tripping out' on some psychotropic incense shit!" The peeved paramedic finished shouting and slammed the lid shut on their refilled drugbox.

Johnny's rant was music to Roy's ears. However, the sad—and deadly serious—nature of the tune prevented him from smiling. In fact, he frowned outright, as he realized the 'rut' that his frustrated fireman friend had been referring to earlier was the rut of being 'injured on the job'.

They'd both had their share of 'close calls' over the course of the year.

But the past eleven months had been particularly hard on his partner.

DeSoto extended his right hand and assisted his discouraged buddy back up to his feet. "You're not thinking of quitting…Are you?"

Gage's glistening eyes dropped down to the drugbox. The paramedic clutched its handle a little tighter. "This is the something I don't wanna do different."

Roy exhaled a silent sigh of relief. The paramedic gave his partner's left hand a reassuring squeeze, and a firm shake, before finally relinquishing his grip on it.

Johnny glanced up and gave his supportive partner a look of undying gratitude.


A little over fifteen minutes later…

Roy backed the Squad into its parking spot in Station 51's apparatus bay and killed its engine.

Johnny snatched up their HT. "L.A., Squad 51 is available at quarters…"

"10-4, Squad 51."

The Squad's occupants piled out and began heading for the rec' room.


"Could the two of you step in here for a minute," their Captain suddenly requested—er, commanded.

The two men immediately changed directions.


A few seconds later, in Hank Stanley's office…

John stepped up to his Captain's desk and then stood there at attention. "Cap, about this morning…I'm really sorry and I promise I'll try really hard to not let it happen again."

Stanley suppressed a smile. "I'm really happy to hear that, John. But that is not why I called you guys in here." Hank stared down at his recently hung up phone, looking somewhat amazed. "Headquarters has just informed me that the two of you have been picked for—" he paused to read his notes, "the 'Advanced Paramedical Research Program'."

His paramedics seemed to be equally amazed.

"Why us?" DeSoto demanded. "Eight other guys signed up for it, too."

"It seems the way the thing was set up—" Stanley stopped and began reading directly from his notes again, "the first two men to volunteer were going to be picked for the project because, according to a Mr. Edward R. Bowerman, 'They deserve to be rewarded for their willingness, and commended for their eagerness to be of assistance.'" The Captain paused again, and stared up at his paramedic team, looking astonished. "You've barely been gone two hours. How did you ever manage to get yourselves into this?"

Roy gave his 'eager' buddy an annoyed glare. "It would a' never happened…if my partner, here, wasn't so dedicated, curious and—"

"—Dumb," his partner finished for him.

"Du-umb?" The look on their Captain's face went from one of astonishment to confusion. "You call volunteering to spend two weeks in Seattle, Washington—studying their Paramedic Program, asking questions and taking notes, all at the County's expense—dumb? I'd say it's more like 'brilliant'." Hank gazed glumly down at his notepad. "Why don't THEY ever ask Captains to volunteer for anything?" He glanced back up and saw the 'Are you serious?' looks on his paramedics' faces. "It's all right here," he assured them, and gave his notepad a couple of taps with the point of his pencil. "You're due over at headquarters in one hour, for a preliminary briefing. Brice and Kirk are coming in to replace you. As soon as they get here, the two of you can take off—" he paused again, to flash his paramedics a warm smile, "—on your new 'research' assignment."

His two lucky crewmen exchanged looks of complete and utter disbelief.

"A two-week paid vacation," Roy suddenly realized—right out loud, and a smile finally appeared upon his still astonished face.

Johnny beamed his fellow 'researcher' a broad grin. "Far out!"


"Please, God…Please, let this have as happy an ending, as it had a beginning," Roy prayed and continued to aim his deeply troubled gaze up at the quarantine cubicle's ceiling.


Finally, at around 04:00, the moon's unnatural glow faded completely away, and the overly fatigued fireman drifted dreamlessly off.

TBC

Author's Note:

Well, I figured this fic' for a 12-parter, but, as usual, Da Boys figured differently. lolol

Thanks, everybody, for reading and reviewing! ((((readers))))

It is always MOST encouraging to hear back from you guys! *hugs and high-fives*

My story stats have been broken for the past few days, so, without feedback, I have no idea

if anyone out there is even reading what I've written. lolol

Take care! *wave wave*

:)Ross7