"There's Just No 'Getting Away From It All'
Chapter Fourteen
The following afternoon, Station 51's current residents were sitting around their rec' room, trying to squeeze in a little rest and relaxation between calls.
"Man! With that pyromaniac gone, it sure is quiet around here," Chet Kelly commented on his way over to the sink to get himself a drink of H 2 O. "Did any of you guys catch the news last night?" he inquired, and began sipping the water like it was fine wine.
Paramedic Dave Wright was seated at the dinner table, resting his head on his folded arms. "What news?" he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.
Chet set his glass on the table and sat down beside him. "They said this drought could go on for another nine months," he glumly responded.
"What drought?" Wright sleepily wondered.
Wright's partner—er, temporary partner glanced up from the cup of coffee he was nursing. "Who are THEY?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. "I mean, THEY say this…and THEY say that. Haven't you ever wondered who THEY are?"
"What drought?" Wright repeated.
Chet stared down at the sleepy form sprawled across their table and sadly shook his head. "Sheesh! Do you lead a sheltered life! What do you mean, 'What drought?'? Where have you been for the last 18 months? We haven't had a decent rain since last July! Why do you think the department has been averaging three and a half brush fires a day? It's so dry right now, if we don't get some rain pretty quick, the whole state is gonna go up in smoke!"
Stoker was seated on the sofa.
The Station's mascot was lying next to him, resting his head on the engineer's lap.
Mike scratched the mutt behind the ears for a moment or two and then turned to his crew-mate, seated a cushion and a half away. "Hey, Marco? How do you put out half a brush fire?" he insincerely inquired.
Lopez looked up from the magazine he was reading and shrugged. "A quarter at a time?" he proposed, and his fellow firefighters chuckled.
Well, all except for Chet, that is. "I should a' known better than to try and discuss something serious around he-ere…" he muttered dejectedly.
DeSoto stepped over to the kitchen counter and began pouring himself some more coffee. "Sounds pretty serious alright," he sarcastically conceded. "The entire state of California is going to catch on fire, and then THEY say a big earthquake is going to come along and put it out—by dropping it into the Pacific Ocean."
Mike and Marco enjoyed another good chuckle—at Chet's expense.
Even old 'half-asleep Wright' was forced to grin and snicker.
"Yeah, yeah…we'll see who gets the last laugh," Kelly quickly came back and took a big swallow of his cold—and precious—commodity.
"What are you guys complaining about now?" their Captain inquired as he came walking in with the day's mail.
Kelly replied with a quick question of his own. "What do you think of this dry spell, Cap?"
Stanley poured himself a cup of coffee and then sat down at the table to sort through his stack of envelopes. "As long as we can hook a hose up to a hydrant—and there's water when we turn on the valve—I'm not gonna worry about it…" he paused to glance around the room. "Besides, before you know it, we'll be getting more rain than we can handle. And then, I suppose you'll be complaining about mud sli—" he stopped talking suddenly and smiled. "Hey, you guys! John sent us a postcard!" he announced and held up the aerial photograph of Rampart General Hospital.
His men gave their Commander their undivided attention.
Hank's smile broadened into a grin. "Listen to this…'Dear Cap, Roy, Mike, Marco, Chet and Henry…Having a miserable time…Be glad you're not here…John'."
"That's it?" Chet asked, amazed.
"No-o…" Their Captain continued. "There's a P.S. . 'P.S….He said he promised you a postcard—not a novel…Love, Dixie'."
The missing fireman's friends glanced at each other…and grinned.
"I see you got some company," DeSoto declared, as he came strolling into his lonesome partner's hospital room later that afternoon, carrying a long, slender tube.
Gage glanced glumly over at the intensive care patient that had been placed in the bed beside his. "Huh! Some company! I waited all day for him to wake up. Come to find out—he's in a coma! Some company!" he sadly repeated.
"We got your postcard…" Roy announced, determined to keep the conversation upbeat.
"Already? We just sent it yesterday…" the body-in-the-bed said, and his gloomy mood did brighten—but only for a moment. "They won't let me leave this floor…and they won't let me move," John announced, looking—and sounding—sadder than sad.
"Yeah…well, I brought you a view…" the frowning fireman's friend quickly continued, making yet another attempt to cheer his depressed partner up. The tube in his hands turned out to be a couple of rather large posters—glued back-to-back. Roy unfurled and uncurled them.
The view on one side was an awesome picture of the sun rising—or setting—upon a peaceful, pastoral landscape. The view on the other side was an even awesomer picture of a beautiful, long blonde-haired, bikini-clad girl running on a sunny, sandy beach somewhere.
DeSoto stared thoughtfully at the skimpily-dressed, deeply-tanned, richly-endowed maiden for a few moments. "She looks kind a' like that 'Miss Ferrel' from headquarters, don't yah think?" He glanced up and was relieved to find his friend grinning back at him…well, at the beach scene, actually.
Speaking of thoughtful…
John flashed his one-in-a-million—exceedingly thoughtful—partner an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Roy…for the beautiful views!" he said aloud. Then silently he added, '…and, for bein' such a goo—great friend!'
"Hey…no problem," the beautiful view provider proclaimed and shrugged the whole thing off. "I've got it on a string, see…So, when you get tired of one view, you just have someone flip it over." Roy pulled a roll of industrial-strength tape from the front pocket of his uniform and then took great pains to position the poster for the patient's optimum viewing pleasure. "This okay?"
John nodded. "Yeah…that's fine right there…thanks!"
DeSoto secured the sights to the wall and then wondered, "Where would you like to go first? To the country?…or to the beach?"
"The beach! Definitely the beach!"
"You're not so sick, after all!" Roy realized with a grin.
Speaking of 'that Miss Ferrel from headquarters'…
Stacey stepped up to Doctor Brackett's office and timidly tapped upon the obviously busy physician's open door.
Brackett was embroiled in a losing battle with bureaucracy. He glanced up at the girl, briefly, and asked, "What can I do for you?"
"I, uh, have the paperwork you requested for John Gage…" his visitor announced, and promptly proffered some official-looking LA County Fire Department documents.
"You didn't have to hand deliver it," Kelly informed the gal with the folder, "but thanks! Just set it on my desk. I'll try to get it filled out and sent back to you…" he paused to shoot the stack of folders already piled high before him, a distasteful glance, "as soon as possible."
The girl set her delivery down and then stood there for a few moments, trying to muster up the courage to interrupt the busy gentleman again. "How is he?" she finally just blurted out.
Kelly put his pencil down and took a longer look at the lovely—and apparently concerned—young lady. Great minds must indeed think alike, because he suddenly came up with DeSoto's absolutely brilliant idea for brightening Johnny's day. "Why don't you go on up and see for yourself," he proposed, suppressing a smile all the while.
"They told me he's not allowed visitors," the girl glumly replied.
Brackett flashed the blonde-haired beauty standing before him the smile he'd been suppressing. "I think we could make an exception in your case. I think a visit from you might even have a 'therapeutic' effect on him…" he figured and began reaching for his phone.
Stacey stepped quietly into ICU's Room 604 and cautiously approached the seriously ill paramedic's hospital bed.
The fireman's dreamy, dark-brown eyes were open and focused upon a poster that someone—obviously another male—had given him.
Once again, the girl found herself standing around, trying to muster up the courage to speak. "Hi, Johnny!" she finally blurted out, and just about gave the poor guy a heart attack.
The startled young man swung his gaze in the girl's direction and his heart rate and respirations slowly returned to normal…well, nearer to normal. "I must be delirious…" he quietly confessed and blinked his wide eyes a few times in disbelief. But his new beautiful view remained right there beside him. "Are you for real?…or am I just imagining you?"
Stacey smiled and then reached out to place her right hand over his.
John returned her smile, but kept her hand. "I didn't think my imagination was that good. How did you get in here? They won't let anybody but Roy in here to see me…and then, about all he can do is say 'Hi' and 'Bye'…"
"Doctor Brackett fixed it so I could see you."
"Oh, yeah? He fixed it, did he? We-ell, bless his heart!" the fireman found himself staring into his lovely visitor's emerald-green eyes—again. 'A fella could drown in those eyes…' he suddenly—and silently—determined. 'Ah, yes…but what a way to go!' It also abruptly occurred to the eye-gazer that he just might be getting ahead of himself. "Is this an official visit?" he anxiously inquired.
"Well, I did come to the hospital on some official business," the girl began, and the fireman immediately released his hold on her hand. "But I came up here because I wanted to…see—for myself—how you were feeling…" she finished, softly.
"For a second there, I thought you were going to say you came up here to tell me that my vacation was cancelled again—for the fourth time!"
"Actually, it was canceled again. You're on sick leave."
"With pay?!" the paramedic pondered.
The pretty personnel employee nodded.
Gage looked ecstatic—and then glum again. "What about my vacation?"
"It's been postponed—indefinitely," Stacey stopped talking and stood there, staring at all the medical paraphernalia that was attached into, onto, and around the handsome young man in the hospital bed. "I thought you told me you weren't going to sacrifice your health…"
"I didn't sacrifice it!" the paramedic innocently proclaimed. "It committed suicide!"
"Time's up!" Mrs. Dreyfuss told her patient's pretty visitor, as she came charging into the room to administer Mister Gage's latest dose of meds.
"Don't worry," Miss Ferrel said, seeing the look of tremendous disappointment on the young firefighter's face. "Doctor Brackett also fixed it so that I can come back!"
"I really must remember to thank that man…" John realized with a wry smile.
The girl with the emerald-green eyes smiled…and waved…and was gone.
TBC