As they looked for the address of the building they were to inspect, they passed a building with a big plate glass window in front. Glancing inside, Johnny saw several figures in a white uniform, most of whom wore a white or yellow belt, some a brown belt, and a few, a black belt. The sign painted above the window said 'Ishii-ha Shito-ryu Karate.' He stopped for a moment to watch. "Hey, look at this, Roy."
"Uh huh." Roy watched for a moment, looked at the address on the building, then consulted the clipboard in his hand. "Come on. It must be just a few doors down." He stopped beneath a sign reading 'Frank's Meat Shop – Quality, Service, Value – For All Your Grilling Needs.' He called back to his partner, who still stood watching the karate class. "C'mon, Johnny. This is it!"
Johnny looked over to where his partner had stopped. "Oh, man," Johnny said softly as he crossed the distance to the entrance. He knew that just walking in the door would make him start to gag. "Uh, Roy?"
"What?" Roy rifled through the papers on the clipboard, searching for the ones needed for the inspection.
"I can't go in there…" Johnny's expression clearly bespoke his distress.
Exasperation crept into Roy's voice. "Why not?"
Johnny looked at the ground, embarrassed. "I think it's the meat. The smell of raw meat makes me puke."
Roy looked at Johnny, then at the butcher's shop, and then back at his partner again. "Yeah. I think you're right. Okay, I'll do it. Why don't you just wait for me by the squad?"
"Thanks. I owe you one."
After Roy went into the butcher's shop, Johnny returned to watch the karate class through the window. He noticed that the class had men, women and children of all ages. The youngest ones appeared to be only five- or six-years-old. All the people looked like they were training hard, but also seemed to be having fun. Various activities went on in different parts of the room. Some children were doing a kind of standardized sparring on the mats. The kids grinned as they practiced with the adults. Some of the women appeared to be practicing how to get out of chokeholds. Johnny watched with surprise as one very tiny woman threw a much larger man down to the mat. He could see the man laugh as he got up, faced the woman, and began to dance around her again.
About twenty minutes later Roy appeared. "You okay?" he asked when he reached the squad.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"That was the last one on our list. Let's go home, and get some dinner, partner."
Johnny nodded and went around the front of the squad to take his seat.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of the wind on his face. He imagined he could still detect a faint odor from the butcher's shop clinging to Roy's clothing.
He must have looked pale, because Roy asked, "Johnny, are you going to be sick again?"
"No, I'm okay." After a minute, Johnny spoke unexpectedly. "You know, even the taste of cooked meat makes me puke."
Roy fell silent for a minute, thinking. "Yeah, I noticed."
"What do you think I should do about it?"
Roy shrugged. "I don't know. Become a vegetarian."
The members of Station 51 A-shift had been called out to assist at a barroom brawl. The engine crew had been able to return long before the paramedics, who accompanied the victims to the hospital. The scene at the bar had been pretty wild, with furniture, bodies and beer bottles flying everywhere. Roy could not fall asleep; he still felt keyed up from the rescue. Johnny, however, seemed to have drifted back to sleep. As Roy watched, his partner began to move restlessly and then suddenly flung his arms up, as if warding something off. Roy saw Johnny's eyes snap open and heard the rapid breathing. Johnny looked over at Roy, and then rolled over onto his right side, one arm over his head, his back to Roy. Soon Roy heard what sounded like the even breathing of sleep once more.
Johnny lay wide-awake in the bed, concentrating on slowing his breathing. These nightmares were driving him crazy. When he wasn't imagining the spectre of Barnes on the streets, then the ghost of Barnes haunted his dreams. There was no place to run. Once his heart had stopped pounding and he reined in his breathing, he listened in the dark to the sounds made by the other sleeping men. He paid attention to Roy's breathing. He felt guilty about the way he kept pushing his best friend away. Avoiding him. Maybe Roy would be better off without him, better off with another partner. Maybe he should transfer to another station, to another state, even. The even breath sounds coming from the next bunk told him that his partner must have fallen asleep. Johnny quietly sat up, and wearily rubbed his eyes. He gathered up his turnout gear and headed for the break room.
Roy watched him leave through shuttered lids, and then rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling through the darkness. Working with Johnny the past few weeks had almost been like working with a rookie. Not that Johnny made any mistakes, but he simply didn't take the lead any more. Still a good paramedic, he performed his job well, but sometimes he had to be told what to do. Just like last November when there had been that terrible mix-up with the certification exam. Roy wondered if his partner were losing his confidence again. He wondered how far he could let it go before he had to say something to Cap.
The kitchen duties fell to John Gage the next shift. He made spaghetti, with lots of onions, garlic, mushrooms, peppers, eggplant, and olives in the sauce. But, no meat.
As they sat down to eat, Marco commented on the lack of beef in the sauce.
"Yeah, well, it's called 'marinara.' That means no meat in Italian."
"No, it doesn't. 'Marinara' means seafood in Italian," objected Chet.
"How would you know? You're Irish, not Italian. Anyway, since you're the one so interested in health food, you should like this."
"Actually, 'marinara' just means any tomato-based sauce," commented Mike.
"I like hamburger in my spaghetti sauce," said Chet.
"Did you know meat is really bad for you?" Johnny launched into lecture mode. "I've been reading this book that says meat is bad for you. The cholesterol clogs your arteries and causes heart attacks, you know. In fact, eating meat is bad for the whole planet. Did you know it takes sixteen pounds of grain to produce one pound of beef? You could feed sixteen people instead of just one. Not to mention all the waste products that cows produce. It's..."
"Okay, Gage. Get off your soapbox. The spaghetti is good," warned Cap.
"Well, meat is bad for you," Johnny muttered, subsiding. When the conversation resumed, he relaxed a bit. Here he was sitting at the table, eating dinner and not gagging on the food. He could do it. He could act normal. He was getting things back under control.
After a few shifts, everyone became accustomed to the idea that Johnny was serious about eating vegetarian. When Marco cooked his famous chili, he put some in a separate pot before adding the meat to the main pot. It was easy for Chet to set aside some potatoes, carrots, onions and other vegetables when making his Irish stew. The others either made similar adjustments in their recipes, or if something like pork chops graced the menu, Johnny just ate a cheese sandwich or something he had brought from home instead. The biggest complaint arose from the extra dirty pots and pans created, which Johnny tried to clean up himself as often as he could. The rest of A-shift discovered, much to their pleasant surprise, that Johnny's vegetarian dishes tasted pretty good. He fast became a creative, meatless cook. His biggest success proved to be his brown rice loaf; all agreed that the taste and texture surpassed even regular meatloaf.