Shift Four:
"Hey, Holly, how's the leg?" asked Roy as she arrived at the station.
"Doing okay, Roy," she answered as she aimed for the coffee pot. "The stitches come out in five days. I'm not quite ready to run a marathon, though. Dr. Early was worried about how the stitches would do, since I apparently cut a blood vessel under the scar tissue and all, but it seems to be okay. I have to go see him tomorrow. I still can't believe he took me off shift for such a minor thing."
Roy set down the coffee pot with a sharp thud after pouring Holly a cup. His expression was incredulous. "A 'minor' thing?" he asked in disbelief. "Holly, your BP dropped dangerously twice, you were on an IV for two hours, and you were given medication for the pain. You had to have surgery to fix a nearly severed vein. Even if Dr. Early hadn't grounded you, Captain Stanley would have. You're still limping a bit, no matter how hard you try to disguise it – I'm surprised he gave you clearance to come back to work at all."
She grinned. "Well, it sure as hell wasn't easy to convince him. I've never done so much sweet-talking in my life! Anyway I'm here now, and ready to play with Chet again. Can I count on you for help with one of the tricks on today's menu?"
Roy frowned, and cleared his throat. "Holly, I really don't like getting involved in..."
She interrupted him, "Roy, you don't have to do anything. In fact, that's all I want you to do – nothing."
Roy quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "Holly, I'm a little confused."
She sipped her coffee, made a face, and replied, "Ewww! Who made this dreck, anyway?"
"As a matter of fact, Johnny did," replied Roy as Holly unceremoniously dumped the offending brew into the sink.
"What? Is it such a slow day that he's trying to create a little business for you two by poisoning the rest of us?" she replied with a grin. She grabbed a glass and poured herself some water. "Now, here's the plan – I'm gonna put a bit of chemistry into action. I've seen the way that Chet adds salt to everything, usually without tasting it first. So, I have a little plan for the salt shaker, but I need everyone to leave it alone until Chet gets it. Do we have a deal?" she asked.
At his hesitation, she cajoled, "Please, Roy? All you have to do is just stay away from the salt until this little joke takes place. It will be kind of funny, and I owe him for the trick he pulled with the salt shaker last week."
Roy sighed and gave a reluctant nod. "Okay, Holly. Count me in, as long as it isn't really dangerous."
She smiled and slapped him on the arm. "Thanks, Roy. No real danger involved. Now I just have to talk to Captain Stanley and suggest that he avoids salt for the first part of lunch. I'll see you later."
-E!-
All of 'A' shift but Chet clustered around Holly as she prepared the opaque salt shaker. They watched with fascination as she dumped out the salt, carefully poured some lemon juice into the empty salt shaker, then put some tissue paper across the top. "Hey, Johnny," she asked, as she lightly pushed the tissue down a bit. "Hand me the baking soda, would you?"
"Okay, Holly," said Mike, "Explain this one."
"Well, do you remember the classic acid/base reaction from chemistry class?" At the nods from the others, she carefully measured a teaspoon of baking soda into the depression. Then she covered the inside lid of the salt shaker with tape. "Okay. We have our acid – the lemon juice – and our base – the baking soda. Since the top is taped, the soda won't come out of the shaker. The lemon juice will contact the tissue, and soak through to the baking soda. The two will react with each other and create quite a bit of foam. At least, that's the theory. I've never actually tried this one."
Mike watched with a carefully concealed interest. He had seen some strange things done with salt shakers, but nothing quite like this. He was curious to see if it would work. The theory, he knew, was sound enough.
Everyone sat down for lunch, and there was an almost tangible air of anticipation – tangible to all except Chet. He said impatiently, "Hey, Roy, where's the food? I'm starving, here."
Roy set the meatloaf down on the table. Holly made sure that the salt shaker was beside her. As expected, Chet asked for the salt shaker before even tasting his food. Five heads leaned forward almost imperceptibly to watch what would happen. Chet frowned slightly as he shook the salt shaker and nothing came out. He turned it upright and tapped it hard on the table, then tried shaking it again. All of a sudden, the top flew off, and a veritable waterfall of foam cascaded from the shaker. He looked, dumbfounded, at the river of foam on his plate as the others doubled over in laughter. He shook his head, his lips twisted in a grimace. "Oh, MacDuff, I really wish you hadn't done that. Now I have to break out the secret weapon. I've been saving it for a special occasion, like Gage's birthday – but for you, I'm going to make an exception. Just watch out – when you least expect it, expect it!"
-E!-
Engine 51. Dumpster fire in the alley behind the restaurant. 1700 West Cameron. Seventeen-hundred West Cameron. Cross-street Santa Fe. Time out 14:35.
"That's the donut shop!" Chet exclaimed as they pulled out of the station.
"You got a hankering for some donuts?" Holly asked with a chuckle.
"Good donut shops are hard to come by, especially one that's right around the corner. Besides, they have the best jelly donuts I've ever tasted."
"Huh. I prefer Boston cream, myself. I like the taste of the filling. Lots of opportunities for jokes there, too."
Chet smoothed his mustache, pondering…
-E!-
The rest of that shift was fairly routine – a couple more trash fires, and a child stuck in a tree. There was an eerie air of unrealized anticipation for Chet's retaliation against Holly. Everyone was puzzled that he had not yet taken revenge, despite having plenty of opportunity. Holly was particularly put out. After breakfast, she complained to Mike, "What is the point of having a war when one side runs and hides? He's not playing fair," she pouted. To her surprise, Mike suddenly laughed. "What's so funny?" she demanded.
Mike patiently explained, "I just figured it out. Holly, have you ever thought that this was his way of getting even? To get you so wound up about expecting something terrible to happen, and then it never does?" As she gaped at him in astonishment, he added, "You know, it's so simple, it's beautiful."
She quirked an eyebrow at him. Mike, I'm never sure if you're kidding or not. A range of expressions flitted across her face, ending with a look of determination. "All right. Where's Chet?"
Mike jerked his thumb toward the parking lot. "He's out there, trying to get his fishing gear ready for his trip today. Why?"
"Oh, nothing. I just want to talk to him, that's all." She flashed him a grin and a wink, then ambled toward the parked cars. Holly headed toward Chet's van. He was seated next to the sliding door, all his attention on the tangled mess of fishing line he was trying to unsnarl.
"Dammit!" he muttered in frustration. "I'm never going to get this undone." He looked up at her as she knocked on the van's door. "What do you want?" he snapped.
"Do you need a hand?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her suspiciously. "Okay," he agreed slowly. He handed her a large snarl of the line, and she squeezed next to him on the edge of the van. As she concentrated on the task at hand, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. "How's the leg today?" he asked awkwardly as they continued unsnarling the fishing line.
"Sore," she replied. "But it's manageable. Doctor Early gave me some pain pills, but I don't want to take them unless it's really necessary. Look," she said, dropping her hand onto his, "Do you know what I just realized?"
"What?"
"We're having fun, sort of, trying to top each other's practical jokes, right?"
"Yeah. What's your point?" Chet asked, looking at her sideways.
"Well, the others are certainly getting a kick out of it, especially Johnny."
Chet put down the line he was trying to untangle, a crafty expression appearing on his face. "You know, you're right. So... what do you think we should do about it?"
Her lips curled upward into her Cheshire-cat grin. "What do you say to a cease-fire? I think we have a perfect pigeon, just waiting to be plucked."
Chet grinned and said, "Deal. Do you have anything in mind?"
"Oh, yes! I thought of a way to combine our two trademarks – just listen..."
From his vantage point at the door to the engine bay, Mike watched Holly and Chet put their heads together, then begin gesturing as they worked with the fishing line. They started to laugh. Uh oh – this can't be good. Should I warn the others? He considered it for a moment, then shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. No, I think I'll just sit back and watch the fun. I'll just make sure that I examine everything before I touch it next shift. Those two together...be afraid, be very afraid.
-E!-
"So are we agreed, Chet?" Holly asked as they finished untangling the snarls.
"It sounds good. Silly little jokes on each other in the morning and afternoon, then we clobber Gage at night." Chet started rolling up the fishing line. "Now, how do you make the spider web out of this stuff?"
"Okay. You need about twenty pieces, each about two yards long. Tie a knot at one end and tape it to a door. Tape the loose ends out like the spokes of a spider web. Then just take some more line and weave it between the spokes, making sure you tie it off. Then you can take the tape off the door, and you've got your spider web. The fishing line makes it really hard to see, especially in the dark. I bet we could rig it from the ceiling over his bed or something," Holly said enthusiastically.
"I have another idea, too – now that I've talked to KJ over at 16's, I know a bit more concerning your total mastery of Jell-O," said Chet with a wry smile. "I don't think I'd care to be on the receiving end of some of your more… creative ideas."
"Guilty as charged. Comes in handy, having a brother who's a chemist who also likes practical jokes." She poked him in the ribs. "So, what's your idea?"
Chet leaned over and whispered in her ear. Her smile grew broader and broader and she chuckled. She nodded and replied, "Yeah, I can manage that." She solemnly shook his hand, though the dimples in her cheeks were nearly blinding. "Chet, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Mike, from his vantage point in the doorway, took note of this exchange. I wonder if I can call in sick for the next shift?
-E!-