"Semi Conscious"
Chapter Four
As the tractor's chrome bumper crashed through the steel guardrail that ran along the edge of the onramp, Gage dropped down onto his right side and planted the soles of his boots up against the driver's door. The fireman latched onto the stick-shift levers with both hands and then held on—for the ride of his life!
Squad 51's driver glanced in his right rearview mirror.
The kid that had jumped from the truck's cab was apparently uninjured, because he was currently clawing his way up out of the gully.
The flustered fireman saw the semi veer sharply to the right and prayed he'd be able to say the same for his crazy, crashing crewmate. His numb right arm reached out and his hand fumbled blindly for their radio's mic'. "LA, this is Rescue 51! Respond an engine company and an additional squad and ambulance to our location!"
"10-4, 51…"
"Dammit, Johnny!" Roy angrily exclaimed.
He didn't bother to replace the mic'. He just tossed it aside.
Squad 51 skidded to a stop alongside the hole Gage had just made in the guardrail.
DeSoto jumped out, screaming his partner's name—over and over again.
With the wrecking vehicle's speed now down to only around 20mph, the scene up on Station 51's TV screen appeared to play out in sort of slow motion.
As the big rig left the roadway, its back end folded in on its front end.
Because both sides of the onramp were steeply sloped, the truck's fully loaded trailer listed sharply to the right, until gravity finally caused it to flip completely over.
The engine crew emitted another group 'gasp' and then—all but one of them—watched, in wide-eyed horror, as the heavily loaded trailer continued to tumble down the grassy slope.
The attached tractor was whipped wildly about, like a stuffed animal that was being shaken in some playful pooch's mouth.
One of the tumbling trailer's sidewalls burst open and cases, of whatever cargo it was carrying, came cascading out. Upon impact, the cases split open. Smaller boxes spilled out. The boxes, and their contents, were then scattered—everywhere.
The wreckage finally came to rest at the bottom of a grassy gully.
It took a few moments for KXLA's usually unflappable lady traffic reporter to recover her voice. "Oh…Wow! For our viewers at home, who may be just tuning in, KXLA has been bringing you live coverage of an LA County Fire Department Rescue Squad's attempts to prevent a runaway semi-tractor-trailer from entering the Pamona Freeway's northbound lanes. As you can see, we are currently over the Highland Highway onramp, where—in a last ditch effort to stop the brake-less vehicle—one of the firemen has just driven the truck off of the roadwa—"
The remainder of the rattled reporter's comment was drowned out by the sound of muted claxons, coming from the garage.
The firemen leapt to their feet, but then froze, as Station 16 was dispatched to the scene.
"Why didn't we get the call?" Kelly questioned and turned to their Captain. "Couldn't you ask headquarters to send us, instead?"
"Of course I could," Stanley solemnly replied. He knew how badly they all wanted to be there for their shiftmates. "But our response time would be over twice as long as 16's, and they need help right now."
The firemen exhaled audible sighs of frustration, and then reluctantly sank back down into their 'front row' seats.
Speaking of front row seats…
With his feet braced against the driver's door, and both hands locked on the stick-shift levers, Johnny had managed to remain in the same, safe position for the entire duration of his 'wild ride' down the grassy hillside.
Unfortunately, everything else in the cab—that was not attached or tied down—had promptly become a projectile…including Bruce's corpse.
The semi's tractor had come to rest sort of leaning towards its driver's side, and its former driver had come to rest on Johnny.
Another "Ooof!" had escaped from the prone paramedic, as all 300+ pounds of the dead trucker's weight landed on his chest, effectively dispelling the air from his already traumatized lungs. The fireman tried—with all of his might—to free his pinned arms, so he could shove the ridiculously heavy burden off of him. But he was too weak and too 'woozy'—and becoming even woozier every airless second that passed by.
Roy was in the process of emptying their squad's compartments of equipment, when the kid from the truck cab came running up. "You hurt anywhere?" the paramedic anxiously inquired.
"No," the teen gasped back, a bit breathlessly. "Need any help?"
"Uh-uh…Yeah. Can you grab that green case for me?"
Tony latched onto the oxygen case's plastic handle and then joined Johnny's partner in a controlled slide down the slippery slope.
Due to the dangers inherent in his job, Gage didn't exactly have his heart set on dying of old age. Hell, the fireman figured he'd probably end up buyin' it in an explosion…or at a fire…or even from a spectacular fall—all noble, and rather dramatic, ways to 'go'.
But never, even in his most morbid daydreams, did the paramedic ever imagine that he would—or could—ever be killed by a…cadaver.
Because the paramedic had also been buried beneath the entire contents of the cab's sleeper compartment, he couldn't see a thing. But he could hear perfectly. And what he heard was his name being called.
Sheesh! His buddy sounded really worried.
Too bad he couldn't respond. He had tried to call out. But he had no air. So there was no sound.
'Air is…pretty damn…important…It takes…air…to talk…It…takes…air…to…live.'
More sounds. Somebody was climbing on the truck's cab.
"Johnny?! Johnny, can you hear me?!"
'Ro-oy?…Oh…gawd…help me, Roy…I can't…I can't…brea—' Johnny never got to finish his thought.
The breathless firefighter's head rolled limply to the side, as he finally slipped from semi-consciousness to unconsciousness.
TBC