Bellingham slipped off Johnny's face mask as he began unfastening the snaps that held Johnny's turnout coat closed. Johnny himself was still struggling to breathe. Each breath was like a stabbing pain that burned throughout his entire chest.
"Easy Johnny, try to relax." Bellingham kept a calm, even tone as he worked. His reputation as 'The Animal' and resident department slob meant nothing in the field. Bellingham was just as capable, professional and efficient as Johnny, Roy and his own partner, Brice.
Chet and Marco watched as Bellingham opened the torn turnout coat, revealing a small stain of blood across Johnny's chest.
Instinctively Bellingham opened the blue uniform shirt and cut open the white t-shirt beneath to reveal the painful, bleeding injury. A large laceration, which was laying on top of an even larger bruise, stretched from Johnny's shoulder down and at an angle across his chest, stopping at the lowest portion of his rib cage.
Marco looked at the wound with both sympathy and empathy. "Johnny... *¿Por qué no dices nada?"
Johnny breathed as deeply as he could, trying to draw in a full breath, but the injury limited his every movement. Weakly he tried to clutch as his chest but Marco pulled his hand back.
"Easy Johnny. Don't move." Like Bellingham Marco kept his tone calm and even. "You're safe now. **"Gracias al Señor."
Bellingham took the small portable tank of oxygen that had been used to treat previous smoke inhalation victims and slipped the mask over Johnny's face. "Here, this'll help."
Johnny wanted to speak but still couldn't find the strength let alone find his voice. He subtly nodded his head to confirm he understood what Bellingham had said.
"Marco," Bellingham took the stethoscope from the drug kit and pressed the bell against Johnny's chest. "Can you please get Rampart on the line?"
"Yeah, no problem. I'll get the back up bio-phone." Brice had taken his squad's primary phone leaving the back-up phone behind.
Mike had rejoined the group on the yellow tarp, his lower back now screaming in pain. Kneeling down next to Chet, Mike checked in on his downed colleagues. "Hey Chet, how you doing?"
"Just fine. I don't even feel the pain anymore." Chet tried to smile as he lied. The pain was starting to return but he didn't want anyone taking their eyes off Johnny. "How about you? There's no way you managed to escape from that blast without a bruise or two."
"My back's a little sore, but nothing I can't deal with."
Marco returned with the bio-phone and set it up to make contact with Rampart. "Rampart this is Squad 45, do you copy?"
Bellingham listened to Johnny's chest closely as he made little notes in his notepad. Taking the small penlight from his shirt pocket he then began to check Johnny's eyes. "Johnny, you still with us?"
"Y-yeah..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Good to hear. Can you tell me where you hurt?"
"M-my... chest. It feels like... it's burning."
"Well, we'll take care of that, no problem."
Marco handed the phone to Bellingham. "Rampart's on the line."
The ambulance ride to the hospital seemed to take hours instead of minutes. Hank watched his downed paramedic's slow, deep breaths and watched his steady heart rate on the monitor. His own head was throbbing from the explosion but he refused to admit the pain was beginning to affect him. The sound of the screeching siren overhead served only as a painful reminder to his own condition.
"Brice," Hank closed his eyes and breathed through a sharp pain from his mounting headache. "what's our E.T.A.?"
Brice looked down at his watch. "Approximately five minutes."
Never before had five minutes felt like an eternity. All the while, Hank studied Roy's condition.
Roy never roused from his state of unconsciousness. A heavy white bandage covered the nasty cut on his face while his right shoulder and arm were wrapped in heavy white bandages for support. His pale complexion and lack of awareness was enough to shake Hank to his core.
"Hold on Roy, just hold on." Hank began thinking of Roy's wife JoAnne, and their two children, Chris and Jenny. "We still need you at the station and your family still needs you at home."
Hank felt the ambulance slow as it turned into the emergency vehicle drive of the hospital. The large vehicle turned off the siren as it backed up toward the large automatic doors of the hospital's large doors. The back of the ambulance doors were pulled opened by two orderlies, along with Dixie McCall, and in the process blinding sunlight poured through the doors forcing Hank to shield his sensitive eyes from the painful light.
The orderlies lowered the gurney from the ambulance to the ground with Brice following. Hank slowly stood up from where he was sitting in the back, his head throbbing with every beat of his heart and his world beginning to spin.
Roy was wheeled into the hospital by the orderlies with Dixie telling them where to transport Roy. She saw Hank standing at the end of the ambulance with one hand over his eyes and the other pressed against the ambulance for support.
"Hank?" Dixie sensed something was wrong with the captain. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Fine."
"No, you're not." Dixie's training as a nurse and priceless years of experience told her that something was wrong. "Come with me, sit down."
"I'm fine, I..." Hank trailed off as his face paled and his legs began to buckle.
"Hank!" Dixie supported the back of Hank's neck and head as he fell to the parking lot unconscious. "I need another gurney out here!"
...to be continued...
Author's Note: * 'Why didn't you say anything? & **'Thank the Lord.'