Blinding flashes of light made his head pound.
His nose stung with the sharp smell of burnt wiring and gasoline.
Someone groaned nearby and he turned from the sound. All he wanted to do was sleep. Couldn't he just sleep?
Johnny lifted his right hand to his pounding temple, desperate to find a way to stall the pain living there. He forced his aching head to remember how he got here. Where was he? He opened his eyes-at least he thought he did-and found his world clothed in darkness.
Running his fingers to cup over his eyes lids, he found his eyes were indeed open. Johnny breathed out with a short gasp as his medical training filled in the blanks. Oh no! Please no! I can't handle being blind for my life! Years of experience and training to be calm seemed menial compared to the possibility of being blind.
As panic took hold, he gasped out his breaths. Panic was his worst enemy in times of emergency, but he couldn't seem to get himself under control.
"Come on...come on...can't...can't do this...not now." Johnny whispered to himself. Now wasn't the time to lose control.
He forced himself to moderate his breaths. As he took in air slowly, he felt sanity return. He'd tackle his problems one at a time. Closing his eyes, Johnny focused on his remaining senses.
To his direct right he could feel mangled iron against his left arm trapping it to what he suspected was the drivers side door. Carefully, Johnny attempted to close his fist and gasped in pain, his attempt failed. Despite his best efforts to clench his fist, his muscles wouldn't obey. Left arm-must likely broken-moving on...
He seemed to be leaning towards the passenger side pulling his trapped arm painfully. It was uncomfortable but he knew better than to sit up before he checked himself over. Without his eyesight he was forced to use his right arm to grope his surroundings. Flattening his palm, Johnny ran his free hand over his left side closest to the driver's side door. Thankfully, all he seemed to find was a collection of troublesome bruises.
His hand stopped when he felt a warm wet texture on his stomach. Gently, his fingers roved over the wounded area in search for where all the blood was coming from. The task was slow and complicated without the use of his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, something thin and hard met his hand.
Using his free hand, Johnny fingered the foreign object. Warmth seeped through his fingers letting him know he'd found the injury that was causing him to lose blood. Placing his hand around the thin object he jarred it slightly. Pain spliced its way through his stomach and he gasped only to find breathing brought him more pain.
The missing pieces of the puzzle clicked into place when he shifted on his hip slightly and found his movement stalled, the object had impaled him and effectively pinned him to the seat. Johnny ran his good hand over his forehead and then returned it to staunch the flow of blood seeping from his stomach. If he was lucky, he could stall the bleeding enough for help to arrive.
Roy's hands clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel in anticipation. His mind raced with thousands of possibilities about why Johnny hadn't come to work. Beside him, Craig Brice or Mister Perfect sat in the passenger seat watching all the houses they passed. While Brice and he didn't get along about anything, Roy was grateful he was willing to fill in for Johnny at such short notice. It was hard for your expected time off to be invaded and still be in a good mood.
Brice had been unusually quiet about Johnny not showing up to work. Maybe he was waiting to give his speech to Johnny in person or he'd picked up on the worry of the Station and chose not to say anything. Whatever it was, Roy was grateful for the silence.
After what seemed like an eternity, Roy pulled the Squad alongside the Engine and took in the scene. In the middle of the intersection a battered Ford truck had broadsided a Land Rover much like the car Johnny drove. As he rounded the Engine, Cap waved them over.
"Take Brice and check the vehicles. Meanwhile, we'll work on keeping the vehicles from igniting." Roy nodded and grabbed the gear from the Squad and walked closer to where the wrecked vehicles sat in the middle of the intersection.
Glass crunched under his work boots as he nervously took in the battered Ford and Land Rover. His stomach flip flopped as he noted how much the Rover looked like Johnny's.
"I'll take the Rover, you check the Ford!" Brice called as he brushed past Roy.
Roy started to protest but the words died in his throat. He was a parametic, and that meant the victims came before his desire to see if the driver of the Land Rover was Johnny. Turning his attention back to work he leaned through the broken window of the Ford.
The driver was a middle aged man wearing faded jeans and a long sleeved flannel shirt. Roy pushed aside the airbag, getting a closer look at his victim. From what he could see, the man was in good shape compared to what condition he could be in. The worst injury the man had was a gash above his right eyebrow where he'd been pelted by broken glass.
Removing the penlight from his shirt pocket, he checked the unconscious man's eyes before moving on to his pulse. After scribbling down his vitals to be sent to Rampart, the victims eyes flicked open.
"What...what happened?" Confused eyes took in the shattered glass covering him and the passenger seat to the right.
"Sir, my name's Roy DeSoto. I'm a paramedic with the LA Fire Department. You've been in a car accident, are you hurting anywhere?" The victim's eyes roamed over the interior of the vehicle.
"No...I seem to be fine." The man lifted his arm to touch where blood was trailing down his face.
Gently, Roy pulled the hands down. "You have a laceration above your eye there. Why don't I get that cleaned up for you while the firefighters work on getting you out of here alright? Once we get this door open we'll get you to the hospital and checked out by a doctor at Rampart."
Kneeling down to reach the bag holding the bandages at his feet, Roy felt a hand catch his arm. Slowly he stood and leaned through the broken window.
"The other man! Is he...is he ok?" Bright worried eyes pleaded with him.
"Don't worry, my partner's helping the other man as we speak. Just sit back and relax." The victim sank further in the seat as Marco came over.
"How is he?" Roy stepped away from the truck.
"Nothing serious, just a couple bruises. He's stable. The driver's door is buckled in, we'll have to cut him out." Roy's eyes strayed to the Land Rover. "What about the other driver?"
Marco hesitated and Roy felt fear creeping back in. He'd almost convinced himself everything was fine.
"It's Johnny. He's the second victim." Roy felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. He wanted to race over to the Land Rover, but he had a victim to take care of.
"How is he?"
"I don't know. I didn't get to see much, before Brice started working on him." Marco almost looked ashamed he didn't have more information to give." Roy turned his attention to the victim behind him.
Captain Stanley called Marco away leaving Roy alone to bandage the man's eyes before handing the victim over to Chet and Marco to open the truck door. Then, finally, he could go check on Johnny.