Hey guys! I want to take a few minutes to acknowledge some of my reviewers that I haven't had a chance to thank:
(From Chapters 1 & 2)
pen4lew: thanks for being the first review (and for some great encouragement!)
Jrsgril: thanks for reviewing, glad you like the story (so far!)
lynn from pa: a map may be helpful! For now, I'm just making up addresses of the calls! thanks for the review! ;]
fireman jake: oopps...thanks for catching my error! It's been taken care of!
Kelmin: we've chatted :] (PS: Everyone should go check out Kelmin's story Unknown Type Rescue)
Jojara: you are too sweet, glad I'm not the only one learning! And my new beta is too a blessing, she's caught SO many errors!
Shirley Jean: thanks!
gunbuster: have you been reading over my shoulder?! The Phantom may make an appearance yet...
DixieDavenport: Oh boy, another real firefighter! I would say that Abel is still very much a firefighter...as we will see in future chapters! And wouldn't you just LOVE to know how Hank knows Rita Meadows? *evil laughter*
miss prissypants25: thanks, doll!
arwaltherallie: I love reviewers!
Rolodexthoughts: my old friend I am a fan of the snark, but we've chatted as well, so thanks again!
station15: hey, I wrote about you! Tattoos, I hadn't thought about it, but it might make for an interesting back story...what kind of tattoo would you like to see?
I think I got everybody...a shout out to my beta of course...
Who's ready for the first rescue? And to meet the circus?!
Chapter 3:
The next morning dawned much too early, but not very brightly. A heavy cloud cover rolled in the night before just in front of the wind. The National Weather Service was calling for rain before noon, but the change in wind shifted the fire towards several neighborhoods outside of Los Angeles. If the rain didn't come soon, or worse, if it was a lightning storm, the firefighters would lose what little ground they'd fought so hard for with the strong possibility of the fire getting even closer to the metropolis of LA. Smoke could been seen in the northern part of the cities said reports from local news stations
Breakfast was a tense affair, with everyone stiffly shoveling their chow into their mouths. The mood was so heavy Johnny didn't even bother to interrogate Marco about the Doppelgänger.
The handy talkie on the table between Roy and John squawked loudly, "Squad 51, are you available?"
Roy grabbed the handy talkie as Johnny gulped the last of his coffee, "10-4. Squad 51, available."
"Squad 51, child trapped, 121 Weston Avenue. One-Two-One Weston Avenue, cross street Swift. Time out 07:58"
"10-4, Squad 51, KMG365," Roy replied, following Johnny out of the makeshift mess hall.
They jogged over to the squad and Roy started the engine as John reached for the map, "I think if we head back to the main road it's a left then a right."
"'Kay."
The ride was quite and a bit tense, calls involving kids were always that way, and it was a relief when 121 Weston came into view. It was a big house, bordering on a mansion, just five miles below the fire. The whole neighborhood was ritzy, most of the houses sold for one hundred thousand dollars, or more. Out front, woman in a dress that was probably more than a week's paycheck for the paramedics waited calmly for the squad to roll to a stop.
"Ma'am," Johnny said, touching the brim of his helmet, "we had a call that there was a child trapped at this address."
She sighed dramatically, pushing a lock of bleached and permed hair out of her eyes, "Yes, I'm the one who called. He's around back."
Grabbing their gear, the duo followed the woman around the side of her house as she gave a vague explanation as to what had happened, "I have been telling him all week that we might have to leave because of that bothersome fire," she waved dismissively at the ridge behind her, "and this morning we got the notice to evacuate. Of all of the weeks for my husband to be in New York on business! So, here I am, packing up our things, missing my bridge game again, and now my harebrained son has gotten his arm stuck under the pool shed!" she said, throwing her hands up at the injustice of it all.
The paramedics exchanged a look, but didn't make any comments. The pool shed in question was a small building painted to match the house at the back of the property behind the crystal clear pool.
The boy was around on the backside of the shed, out of sight of the house. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and looked to be about twelve. He was lying on his stomach with his right arm stretched out under the shed all the way to his shoulder. He didn't say anything as the paramedics approached, he just lay there looking humiliated as his mother prattled on, "Lord only knows what he was doing under there; he won't tell me. Thinks he knows everything these days."
Roy squatted down next to the boy, "What's your name, son?"
"Thomas J. Frobisher the Third," Mrs. Frobisher snapped, "Can't you just get him out of there and skip the pleasantries. I have things to do."
Johnny frowned, "Well, we can work on getting your son unstuck while you go do whatever you need to, Mrs. Frobisher."
Mrs. Frobisher looked delighted, "That's an excellent idea! I'll go finish packing. Thomas, you listen to what these nice firemen tell you to do." She turned around and, careful not to trip on her heels, walked back around the shed without waiting for an answer.
Thomas, for his part, sighed deeply, "Sorry 'bout her."
Johnny laughed as he crouched down next to the boy, looking to see how his arm was stuck, "Not a problem."
"So, do you wanna tell us what were you doing with your arm under the shed?" Roy asked as he got down to look under the shed.
Thomas shrugged, or tried to, "I was trying to get something I put under there a while back out."
Johnny, ever nosy, rocked back on his heels, "What is it?"
"Does anything hurt?" Roy asked.
"It's a gift…for a friend," the boy answered John. He shook his head in answer to Roy's question.
"Can you tell where you're stuck?" Roy asked, gently pulling on Thomas' arm to see how stuck it was.
Thomas shifted around and yanked on his arm, "I think my hand is caught between the foundation and the bottom of the shed."
The paramedics worked for a few minutes before Johnny spoke, "Tom, are you holding on to something?"
He nodded, "Yeah."
"Well, that's why your hand is stuck. Let go of it and I bet you'll be able to get you hand out easy as you please."
Thomas looked stricken, "I can't! What if our house gets burned down? It'll get burned up to! Then I won't ever be able to give it to Lauren!"
The two paramedics exchanged another look, "Ah, it's for a girl," Roy said, nodding knowingly.
"So what is it?" Johnny asked, "The suspense is killing me."
Thomas looked away from the two paramedics and muttered something indecipherable.
"What was that?"
"It's a charm bracelet. With her initials and a flower on it. I've been doing odd jobs for Mrs. Farley, the widow down the street, for three months to save up for it. Lauren's birthday's next week, I was going to give it to her then."
"Well, you can't leave that behind, can you?" Johnny said, "But I think I have an idea. Can you knock on the bottom of the shed?"
Thomas made a concentrating face, then nodded, smiling, "Yeah, I can!"
"Well, tell you what, you keep taping and I'll go see if I can hear where you are. Then you can leave the bracelet, pull your arm out, and then we'll rescue the bracelet too, okay?"
Thomas nodded enthusiastically, "Okay!"
"Be right back," Johnny said. He rounded the shed and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, the dark-haired paramedic's muffled voice could be heard through the wall of the shed, "Okay, Tom, I gotcha. Go ahead and pull your arm out."
Thomas grinned at Roy and started to pull his arm out. It didn't come out as well as it had gone in, but within a few moments his arm was safely at his side.
Roy gently examined Thomas' arm, "Looks like you might have a bruise up here on your shoulder tomorrow, and maybe one on your knuckles, but other than that, I think you'll be fine."
"Thanks! Can we go see if-"
"Did someone order a charm bracelet?" Johnny asked, coming around the shed holding onto a small box.
"That's it!" Thomas said, snatching the bracelet, "Thanks!" The boy quickly opened the little box and dug around the tissue paper to find the little trinket. He held it up so that the paramedics could see it. It was hardly an expensive bauble, but it had the promised 'L' for Lauren, a 'H' for her last name, and a tiny purple flower charm.
"That's real pretty," Johnny said, "I'll bet she'll like it."
"I hope so. Her folks aren't around much and I want to make sure she has a good birthday," Thomas explained as he and the paramedics walked out from behind the shed towards the pool.
"That's real thoughtful," Roy agreed.
Thomas just shrugged, blushing a bit, "Can we not tell my Mom what I was trying to get? She won't understand. She doesn't like Lauren."
The partners shrugged at each other, "I guess so," Roy agreed. "I don't see any harm in it."
"Thanks guys," Thomas said, pocketing the bracelet, and sticking out his hand to shake the men's hands, "I owe you."
"Just doin' our jobs," Johnny replied.
Before anyone could say anything else, Mrs. Frobisher's voice called out, "Thank heavens, you got him free! Is he all right?"
Roy nodded, "Yes, ma'am. Might be a little black and blue tomorrow-"
"Thank you so much for your help," She gushed, then turning to her son, she was all business, "Thomas, let's get the car packed."
She turned, effectively dismissing the paramedics. Thomas just rolled his eyes, waved, then trotted after his mother.
Johnny shook his head and opened his mouth, probably to make a comment about 'some people,' but the radio cut him off, "Squad 51, are you available?"
Across town, the Emergency Room at Rampart General Hospital was even more of a mad house than usual. First there was the man who had tried to cut his fingers off with his new table saw, followed by the woman with her hair stuck in her blender (which contained a particularly smelly 'health food' concoction). After that had been the six year old twins Alexis and Ainsley who had done their very best to glue one another to their pet kittens. That was a messy operation to be sure.
Nevertheless, the morning's insanity was nothing compared to what the afternoon held.
From her spot at the Nurse's Station, RN Dixie McCall was seriously considering begging for a transfer to any other part of the building. The circus had come to town, or more accurately, to Rampart Emergency's waiting room.
There were twelve of them, but if you counted the noise they made, it seemed like a lot more. Oh, and who could forget the two boa constrictors currently wrapped around the Strong Man in treatment room two? Dixie shuddered at the thought of the 'friendly' snakes. "They just love Hugo so much!" their handler had declared, "They just don't want to let go of him!"
The snakes were not the only medical issue the circus was having. The human cannonball's gout was acting up again and one of the trapeze artists was in labor upstairs. Plus, a freakishly tall clown had gotten his foot stepped on by an elephant and was awaiting x-ray in treatment four while two of the animal trainers who had gotten into a fight with a lion, and come out on the losing end, waited for their stiches. Along with that, the ringmaster, Boris, looked like he was close to a nervous breakdown.
"My circus," he kept repeating in his Eastern European accent, "It is falling apart! We are cursed; cursed I tell you!"
His talk of curses was upsetting the rest of the circus members and therefore the rest of the waiting room. She'd had three people ask her if there was anywhere else they could wait.
Swallowing the groan that threatened to escape, Dixie resolutely turned to her paperwork. If she didn't get some of it done, she'd be here until her next shift working on it. The waiting room noise had settled down to a dull roar for about fifteen minutes and just as Dix settled into her work, there was a cry and the smell of smoke filled her nostrils.
Dixie was on her feet so fast she upset her chair and dropped half of her paperwork on the floor. The noise level in the waiting room had increased dramatically, and almost instantly she could see why.
Madame Tajemnica, the fortune teller, had lit some sort of incense and was now laying ornate playing cards on the table in front of her, muttering all the while.
"This is the last straw," Dixie muttered to herself, "if they keep this up, they'll be waiting outside."
Hands on her hips, Dix stopped directly in front of the old woman, "Madame Tajemnica, you will have to put the incense out right this second-"
"Shh," the pretty contortionist said, "She is communicating with the Spirit World."
"I don't care if she's communicating with the president. The incense goes or-"
Suddenly, Madame Tajemnica froze, dropping her cards and nearly knocking her incense over with a limp hand. She yelled something that Dix didn't understand before her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to the floor at Dixie's feet.
I love my reviewers...
Striker