April 1976
Johnny and Roy prepared to transport the lady from the bar. It was truly astounding, Johnny thought, the situations people got themselves into. How long would that woman have sat at the bar, nearly catatonic until someone had called for assistance?
And her friend hadn't exactly been a lot of help. Still, it seemed the woman was going to be okay, and he and Roy could pack up and head back to the station. With any luck, the remainder of the night would be uneventful.
Johnny was barely aware of his surroundings, so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't hear the car coming around the corner, tires squealing. By the time he realized what was happening, the force of the car slamming into him knocked him to the ground.
"Johnny?" Roy immediately rushed to his side, kneeling down beside him.
The pain radiated through Johnny's body, so much so that he couldn't focus on anything around him. He could hear voices around him, Roy taking charge of the situation, his crewmates shuffling around him, grabbing equipment while Roy called in to Rampart.
The drug box. Shit. Johnny had been carrying it out when he'd been hit. "Roy. Roy." He tried to get his partner's attention, to no avail.
"You just hold still, Johnny." Roy's voice was tense beneath the veneer of calm. "You're gonna be okay."
"The drug box." Johnny managed to get out.
"Yeah, I know." Roy answered. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna be fine, just fine."
Johnny had a vague idea of how bad off he was, but it was hard for him to gauge things, considering how much pain he was in.
"Johnny, can you tell me where it hurts?" Roy asked him.
"Everywhere." Johnny told him. "Hurts everywhere. Goddamn, I wish I'd gotten knocked out."
He could hear Roy let out a soft laugh despite the circumstances. "The one time you manage to keep your helmet on."
Johnny could appreciate the irony. That damn helmet had probably saved him from worse damage.
He heard the ambulance pull up, felt himself being loaded on to the gurney. Johnny had been here before, but never this bad. And just trying to stay focused while Roy worked on him took nearly everything he had.
"Roy?" Johnny reached for him.
"What's wrong?" Roy immediately responded.
"Think I'm fading out." Johnny told him.
"It's okay." Roy answered calmly. "Hang in there, we're almost to Rampart."
It was a short trip, Johnny thought, though he was already losing track of time. He was getting increasingly disoriented as he was wheeled in, surrounded by more voices as he was moved from the gurney to the exam table. More movement, more hands on him, more questions that he was having trouble answering. Someone pressed on his stomach, and he let out a sharp gasp.
He caught some words. "Internal bleeding…get that x-ray machine in here…we're going to have to get him into surgery."
It was as if all of this were happening to someone else, and he was just observing. The pain shooting through him told a different story.
"You're going to be okay, Johnny." Early's voice was kindly, his hand gently laying on his shoulder. "We're sending you up to surgery right now. You just hang in there."
"Oh yeah. With both hands." Johnny responded.
The next thing he knew, he was coming to in his room. It was quiet and mostly dark, and he felt as if he was floating. They must have given him the good drugs this time around.
As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he noticed that his leg was in a cast nearly up to his pelvis, elevated in traction. He supposed things could have been a hell of a lot worse.
Things were starting to come back to him now, the way he'd been planted to the ground, unable to get out of the way as the car came barreling toward him, the blunt force as it crashed into him. The drug box flying, everything scattering.
And worst of all, the voices that surrounded him. Roy's usual calm voice, the tension just underneath it as he'd assured Johnny that he'd be fine, just fine, just hang in there, you're gonna be fine. Chet, doing his best to assist, the edge of panic in his voice more obvious. Cap running the show, as usual, barking orders to Marco and Mike, but always deferring to Roy, the concern in his voice clear with every question he asked.
As more of the incident came back to him, he was hit with a realization. He could have died out there, probably would have if it hadn't been for everyone's quick action. But that's what he and Roy were there for, weren't they? The whole reason the paramedic program existed was to keep people alive long enough to get them to the hospital.
And here he was now, victim instead of savior. The irony wasn't lost on him.
Johnny drifted in and out of sleep for a while, occasionally awakening with a start before reorienting himself. Finally, as light started to creep into the room, the door opened and one of the nurses entered. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"
"Okay, all things considered." Johnny answered, shifting around a little. "Kind of in and out."
The nurse smiled as she checked his vitals and his medication. "Doctor Andrews should be in to do his rounds in a few minutes. Everything looks good so far. You take care, okay?"
"Sure." Johnny nodded, settling back on to the pillow. He found the remote control for the television and turned it on, flipping through a few stations before settling on some morning news.
The door opened again, and a grey-haired man in a long coat came in, greeting Johnny with a nod. "Good morning. John, right?"
"Right." Johnny made an attempt to sit up but didn't get very far.
"I'm Doctor Andrews." He told Johnny. "I consulted with the surgeon this morning. Seems you're quite the lucky man. You could have come out a lot worse for wear."
"So, what's the word?" Johnny asked him. "When can I get out of here?"
Doctor Andrews frowned. "You're not going anywhere for a while. Your injuries are quite extensive, and we need to keep a close eye on you to make sure everything heals as it should."
Johnny listened as Doctor Andrews explained the extent of his injuries. Broken tibia and femur, damaged spleen that had required removal, several broken ribs from when he had landed on his back. "You were very lucky. If it hadn't been for that helmet, you might not be here. At the very least, we wouldn't be talking right now."
He supposed he should be grateful to be alive, and he was. But he hated hospitals, hated being laid up. From the sounds of it, he'd be laid up for a good long while. "How long do you think I'll have to stay here?"
"We'll have to take it day by day." Doctor Andrews told him. "A week, at least. Maybe longer if things don't go as they should."
"Damn." Johnny grumbled.
"I understand." Doctor Andrews replied with a hint of a smile. "I hate being in the hospital and I work here. I can only imagine how you feel. But you should be cleared for visitors before long. I'm sure you'll have plenty of company."
"Sure." Johnny wasn't actually all that sure about that. Sure, the guys at the station would probably stop by, and Joanne and the kids would probably show up at some point.
His mind drifted elsewhere, to the one other person who might show up if he was so inclined. But that was impossible right now, he knew that. The last he'd heard from Steven was a letter sent from Marquette, Michigan. The upper peninsula of Michigan, so Steven had said. He'd sent a few pictures of evergreen forests and a view from a beach that rivaled any ocean view here.
Lake Superior, Steven had written on the back of the photograph. Johnny had almost immediately gone to the library to learn more about it, and about the whole upper peninsula. Before Johnny knew it, he had another place on his list that he wanted to visit.
They'd managed a few phone calls since Steven had left, and the conversations had been good, enough to rekindle whatever feelings that had cropped up during those two days Steven had been here. It wasn't as if Johnny wasn't still trying to get out there and date, but he had to admit that Steven was always in the back of his mind.
He wondered if Steven felt the same.
There was no point in dwelling on that right now. Right now he had enough to worry about without worrying about that.
The day passed by relatively quickly, with the same nurse coming back in a few times throughout her shift, always making time for a quick conversation and a smile. If he wasn't so doped up, he might have tried to flirt with her a little. She was awfully cute. Audrey, that was her name. Nice girl.
He had fallen asleep again when he heard a knock on his door, followed by it opening slowly. Sure enough, it was Roy, looking as if he hadn't slept much, but still somehow looking relieved. "Good to see you."
"Hey." Johnny managed what he hoped was a smile.
"Stopped by your place and picked up a few things." Roy told him as he approached Johnny's bedside. "Checked your mail. Looks like you've got some new reading material. At least it's something to keep you occupied."
"Thanks." Johnny took the items from Roy's hand. New issues of National Geographic, Backpacker, and Popular Photography. He set them on the tray table in front of him, and as he did so, an envelope fell out.
Another letter from Steven, another unfamiliar postmark. Johnny inspected it carefully. North Dakota this time. Another place for Johnny to learn about and possibly add to his list.
"Sorry, I didn't see the letter in there." Roy commented. "Friend of yours?"
"Something like that." Johnny tried to answer casually. "Met him a while back at a photography exhibit. Got to hang out with him for a couple days."
"Right." Roy answered with a laugh. "That time I couldn't get hold of you for a couple days."
Something clutched in Johnny at that. If he got to talking right now, he might reveal a whole lot more than he intended, and that could be dangerous.
"I'm just messing with you." Roy gently touched Johnny's shoulder.
"It's okay." Johnny replied as he set the letter aside in favor of the issue of Backpacker. He flipped it open and immediately recognized the photographs. The memories rushed in, all that time he and Steven had spent out on the trail coming back to him.
God, he missed the guy, more than he cared to admit.
"Wow, impressive." Roy commented, startling Johnny out of his reverie.
"I was there, you know." Johnny suddenly blurted out. "When he was taking these. I'm the one who took him up there."
"Is that right?" Roy sounded interested.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Johnny flipped through the pages. "See, his photos were part of that exhibit, and we met and kinda hit it off, I guess. Ended up showing him a couple of spots. He was here for the exhibit and for some work—he's one of those freelance photographers, lives in Alaska when he's not out on assignment. Said he wants me to come up there and visit him, can you believe it? Crazy."
"Sure is." Roy's tone seemed to change, and Johnny wondered if he'd said too much. "You sure do meet some interesting folks, Johnny."
If only Roy knew the half of it. "Yeah, he's a pretty interesting guy."
They talked for a while longer, both of them avoiding talking about the incident itself. There would be time for that another day, when Johnny recovered and got the hell out of here and back to work.
Injuries were normal, just part of the job. He and Roy had gone through a million close calls, had seen each other through some truly terrifying incidents. They couldn't dwell on it, not if they wanted to still be able to do their jobs.
"Suppose I'll come back another time." Roy finally told him, rising from the chair. "You're fading out on me."
"Again." Johnny answered absently as he closed his eyes.
He felt Roy grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze before letting go. "You're gonna be fine, Johnny. Just fine."
With that Roy was gone, and Johnny let his mind drift a little. He definitely wanted to read the letter from Steven, but that could wait until later, he supposed. It wasn't as good as talking to the man, but it would have to do for the time being.