October 1977

It started with one or two false alarms the first shift...

Chet plopped down on the sofa with a sigh and leaned his head back. The engine crew had just returned from a real fire, putting out a garage fire that someone accidentally started while trying to barbecue. "I can't believe this guy tried to barbecue inside the garage. He had gasoline in there. People can be so stupid," he commented, eyes closed.

"Yeah," Johnny agreed, getting up off the sofa.

"What? Don't you love me any more?" Chet called after Johnny.

The paramedic turned around with a puzzled expression. "Huh?"

"Every time I sit down next to you, you get off the sofa."

"I do not!" Johnny protested irritably, then paused. "But, now that you mention it, it's your breath."

A cushion sailed through the air in Johnny's direction.

Then several more bogus calls the next shift…

Johnny left the water running as he knelt under the sink, scrubbing the floor beneath. When Marco said his name, he jumped, hitting his head on the basin. "Dammit!" he exclaimed explosively, rubbing his head. Then he turned his ire on Marco. "What do you want!"

Marco stepped back, hands held in the air. "Nothing, man. Don't bite my head off! I just came to tell you lunch was ready."

Johnny grunted and turned back to scrubbing the floor. "I'm not done here."

"Suit yourself!"

Soon it escalated exponentially to the level of three times as many false alarms as legitimate calls. Just like last April.

"Johnny! Phone's for you." Mike called over from the kitchen to Johnny, who was sweeping up in the break room.

"Hello?" There was nothing but dial tone and he slammed the phone back down. "Chet! I'm getting pretty damned tired of your practical jokes!"

"What?" asked Chet, who had just come into the room.

"There's no one on the line! This is the third time! It's not funny!" Anger flashed in his eyes.

"Hey, I didn't do it. I was in the latrine," protested Chet.

"You're lying!" Johnny took a step closer.

"It wasn't him, Johnny. I would have recognized his voice."

"Well, who was it then?" He glared at Mike.

"I don't know. He didn't say. Some guy."

"Some guy?" His anger deflated like a balloon with a large tear in it.

"Yeah, it wasn't me, Gage. You're always blaming me… Hey!" Chet yelled angrily at Johnny's rapidly retreating back.

Johnny spent the morning at Roy's house, helping him make new screens for his windows. The noon hour arrived and they didn't feel like making sandwiches for lunch, so they headed out to a fast food taco place to pick up a bite to eat. As they waited in line, a big-bellied man who had been sitting at a nearby table lurched to his feet, hands on his neck in the classic nonverbal message that said, 'Help! I'm choking!' His face was red and his lips were already starting to turn blue. Like most men, he had waited a few minutes, hoping the problem would go away, before he decided that it was something he really did need help with.

Roy and Johnny rushed over. "Hi. We're paramedics. Can we help you?"

The man nodded, panic filling his eyes.

"Can you cough?" Roy asked.

The man shook his head. Johnny moved behind him, placing one fist just above the navel and cupped the other hand around it. He gave three quick upward thrusts.

"Nothing," said Roy.

Johnny tried again. Still, whatever lodged in the man's windpipe wouldn't budge, and the man collapsed in unconsciousness. Johnny, who was prepared for such an eventuality, slowed the man's fall, sliding him down his own body.

"You behind the counter! Call the fire station!" Roy directed as Johnny eased the victim down. Roy straddled him and gave five abdominal thrusts after the man lay flat. "Check the mouth," he said to his partner.

Johnny stared down at the victim's face in mute horror. How had he failed to notice the uncanny resemblance to Barnes? The red hair? The similar facial features? Except for being a lot heavier, this man could almost be Barnes' brother.

"Johnny! Check the mouth."

Roy's voice shook Johnny out of his stupor, and responding automatically, he firmly grasped the man's jaw with one hand and used the little finger of the other to sweep the dislodged particle from the man's mouth. Leaning down, he felt and listened for the victim's breath.

"Not breathing. No pulse." Johnny tilted the man's head back to open the airway and commenced rescue breathing while Roy initiated chest compressions. Breathe, two, three, four, five. Breathe, two, three, four, five. His awareness shrank to the task he performed. When the paramedic team arrived, he heard nothing. As hands pulled him away from the victim, he felt nothing. He didn't notice Roy guiding him to sit down. The sharp smell of ammonia brought him around with a start.

"You okay now?" Roy asked with concern as he looked into his partner's eyes.

"Yeah," Johnny replied unconvincingly, scrubbing a hand over his face. Spacing out like that during a rescue procedure defied belief and struck a stinging blow at his newly recovered confidence. He jumped to his feet and fled halfway to the door before Roy could say any more.

The day was particularly stressful. The squad went on several false alarms and both Johnny and Roy were in a bad mood. The engine had five Dumpster fires to contend with. By nightfall, everyone was more than ready for bed.

The lights flashed on and the tones sounded. "Station 51. Structure fire. 900 Watsoncenter. Nine hundred Watsoncenter. Cross street Bonita. Time out 4:17."

Five men jumped out of their bunks, pulled on their turnout pants and headed for the engine bay. One man arrived from the break room.

"Station 51, KMG-365," said Cap before handing the slip of paper to Roy. The engine and the squad raced off into the night.

When they arrived at the building, they could see some smoke, but no trace of fire. A thorough search revealed a smoldering pile of rags behind the structure, but nothing else.

"Damn these false alarms!" exclaimed Cap, as he wearily climbed back into the engine.

A/N This story was written in 1999 and the American Heart Association no longer recommends using the resuscitation techniques described above.. They now recommend hands-only CPR. You can find out more by calling your local Red Cross for training or by visiting on the web.