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From: patti keiper pattik1
Sent: Monday, January 1, 2024 2:26 PM Subject: From Here To The Ocean Johnny Gage, Dave Gordon, Patty Burns and Les Taylor were at Rampart. They came out of Treatment Room One after getting a County policy requested medical exam. This was following their close call escape from the Cistern fire that they had survived, along with their rescued dogs.

Johnny eyed up his three animal control partners. "Oh, that was tough,
leaving him at the Doc's. This is not my first dog, but he is definitely the youngest. Is it possible? I felt like we were becoming friends without even speaking."

"Now that's a born bond. It really does happen." Patty Burns smirked.
"Good for you."

"Grit's such a fighter, Mr. Gage." Dave grinned. "I've never seen a puppy who scrapped so hard, trying to reach the milk bank." he laughed. "Your ranch will be the perfect home for him."

The vet secretary nodded in agreement, taking off her uniform jacket.
"Coolidge knows what he's doing. I'm heading back now. I'll call the moment Grit's out of critical status, Johnny." Miss Burns said. "I'm grateful, guys.
You gave me the chance to run around in your bonafide, all grown up, dog catcher boots. That was a thrill of a lifetime! I'll ride along again. If you ask me nicely. Who knows? Maybe I'll get to meet a city trapped puma in person one day."

"One tiger was enough!" Taylor scoffed at her, exasperated. "I'd rather rescue more pygmy goats belonging to sweet little girls."

Gordon crowed at the memory.
"Les, that circus retiree park is long gone. The big cat risk factor is way down these days." Gordon glanced at Burns. "Need a lift?"

"Nah, I'll swing a cab. Coolidge gave me a fiver before we left."
Patty was already looking at her watch that she used to keep ahead of her client and patient work schedule. "Tour over. Back to the grind.."
she mumbled. "I wouldn't have it any other way." she smiled at them.

All three men waved goodbye to her as she left down the hall.

Then the paramedic and animal control officers lined up to take turns at the best, ice cold drinking fountain. The one near the nurse's lounge.

Gage was thirsty, but he didn't take on water. His mind was miles away as he caught himself listening to the radio traffic from L.A. Fire control I.C., coming from the base station radio, above Dixie's desk. One transmission spoke of a horse stable incident clean up. It had caught on fire during the morning. It had been occupied by brood mares and had suffered a total loss of life.

"I sure hope he makes it." he whispered. "I've lost too many dogs lately."

Les was respectful of the moment. "He's got a good chance, Mr. Gage. There wasn't any bad smoke. Just exposure to the elements and a lot of stress on a newborn. Hey, I want to thank you for riding shotgun with us. A bit more excitement that the usual but... I guess you're used to that as a firefighter."

"You know, I hardly think about the dangerous parts of my job."

"You're seasoned." said Les.

"I guess. But as I get older, I find myself thinking more and more about all of the... rockier outcomes." Gage sighed. "Maybe I'm just tired."

"We all are. But I heard through our dispatcher, that the fire's finally cresting over all of the hills leading down to the beaches. That's a good thing, isn't it?" Gordon asked. "And.. I thought I smelled rain in the air, that wasn't the usual land sea fog."

Johnny blinked, and waved a greeting at the approaching figure of Dixie McCall leaving the out door cafeteria at the far end of the corridor. "My bum rib knows there's a thunderstorm coming, so there's that at least."

McCall beamed as she sat down on her usual stool.
"Hey, guys. How's the pound puppy business? And Johnny,
congratulations. I hear you're a proud new dog owner."

Gage smirked weakly, trying to rise out of his funk. "Word gets around, huh? Maybe I should go hide. I'm a nervous new papa. How do I grow a moustache, Dix?"

"I don't know, I'm not a fella." the head nurse sniffed.
"You could go without sleep, like Dr. Brackett does on busy days.
He gets a five o'clock shadow before five o'clock then."

"Damn. Already doing that. I guess I just can't get hairy around the chin." the paramedic replied.

"Or the legs.." Dixie joked. "If you had more, that snake never would have gotten through with that bite a few years ago. Coffee, gentlemen? You've caught a rare lull in the waiting room. We should toast to it. I could hear a pin drop ten minutes ago."

"Nah. We might jinx it." Dave shook his head. "But thank you. We both tanked up over there."

Dixie's eyes flashed to Gage, seeing his parched lips.
"So what's your story? You were in a fire, Johnny.
Dehydration's a thing." and she shoved the biggest mug of coffee she had into his hands and filled up the cup.
"Gulp it down, or you're not leaving. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and Kel, Joe or Mike will be on you like a ton of bricks."

"OHhhhh, ouch! Hard ball nursing. You go, Miss McCall." said Les, mutually high fiving Dave, at her tactic.

"Yep. He's in my parlor." she said dryly, still steel eyed.
"And yeah, I'm cracking down. We're empty, so that makes him top tag on my Triage. Convince me, paramedic, on how you're still fit." she said, leaning over her desk, staring into Johnny's sooty face with the weight of a very close assessment.

"I cleared the vitals set in there." Johnny shrugged, defiant.
He swiped away her hand as she tried to peel up one of his eyelids for a second. "Don't. I'm filthy, Dix."

"I've seen worse. By the way, he was an intern, still learning the ropes." Dixie countered. "He focused on breath sounds and lack of bleeding. Renal insufficiency due to dehydration's more subtle. And your eyes are the classic on duty too long shriveled prunes. Oh, that's too bad."

"No I.V.!" Gage threatened, and he urgently began slugging his Folder's instant. "Ugh.. you put sugar in this!"

"And cream." Dixie shot back. "Calories, Gage." she reminded.
"You go mind them. A.S.A.P."

"I'm not hungry."

"That's false, and all psychological. I bet you couldn't throw me over your shoulder right now. And I'm a very small person." Dixie challenged.

Johnny squinted his eyes. "Want me to demo that?"

"No, you'd drop me." Dixie said steadily. "Go eat. It's on the house. All three of you. It's called mutual aid, if you recall. Shoo!"

Les and Dave grabbed Johnny by the arms. "Come on, Gage.
She means business. Let's get stuffing our guts over with."

"It's not over..." Johnny said over his shoulder as he was dragged away. "I'm not on your medical hold, I'm just..."

"... a cranky, stubborn, overworked firefighter about to take some R and R." McCall fired back. "I'm in charge, Johnny.
This paperwork is looking for my say so. Or not." she said, holding up the temporary chart she had taken from Treatment One. "You decide."

Gordon's eyes paled. "Those are our check up sheets for today. Oh, my G*d. She can keep us here with one stroke of that pen.." And he began hauling Johnny even faster down the hallway to the food line. "Shush it!" he told Gage.

Dixie just smiled, once they disappeared around the corner, and put the pen back into the pencil holder.

Joe Early came ambling by. "What was that all about?
Were they literally running down the hallway?"

"That was Mother Hen ramped up to.. at her worst." she said, pointing to her self. "They were being boys after over playing with their toys." she emphasized, briskly wiping away some dropped soot piles that they had left on her desk while they had been leaning on it to rest. It wafted up into a big dark cloud between them.

Early leaped away from the desk to avoid getting fire dust on his clean white lab coat. "You are so good at your job. You need a raise. I'll call Admin personally."

"Good luck with that." Dixie told him, as Dr. Early grabbed his stack of charts along with the results on Les, Dave, Patty and Johnny, to take it to Filing. "They're all fine... now.
Go ahead, Joe." Dixie said, jerking her chin up, with a sigh.

She got a questioning non verbal from her attending physician.

"What?" McCall added, rolling her sometimes doe eyes.

"I never doubted them. That was follow up on the mother hen." And he winked as he signed off on their released patients packet with a flourish.

Dixie blew him a raspberry. "Quit being a rooster."
-

Roy DeSoto heard the priority hail on the main Fire Tac channel. He replied to the fire team holed in at the power plant. "Triage head Squad 51 to Engine 8. What do you got?"
Roy asked, gesturing to Craig Brice to get immediate ears in the call.

Brice dropped a medical stock box that he'd been counting, and quickly ran over to Roy's side.

Roy pantomimed choking to him as the information was relayed.

##Adult male, late fifties. We've got vacuum conditions. ## Captain Stone reported back over HT. ## Poor breather with a pulse. Unknown etiology. He's on manually button trigger assisted can air. Pulse rate, 110 and thready. Regular.## the captain said, through his scba mask.

"Can you rapid evac? We can meet you." DeSoto asked. He signaled in the air to cue Battalion 7 who was attending other fire business at his incident command table, for a request to respond.

The white helmeted chief nodded. "51, go! Wind's shifted. It's now favorable for vehicle use down there."

Roy Desoto nodded affirmation and turned back to his walkie talkie.

Stone's voice returned.
##Yes we can. Our assignment to eliminate electrical risk is complete. What's your E.T.A., 51 ? We'll bundle him up and wait at the north entrance to the power plant. ## Stone promised. ## The fire left us behind, a minute or so ago.##

"Twelve minutes. We've been stationed on the ridge upwind of you.
Have Chet and Marco find a utility stokes to use. We can use the squad top to transport your victim to field Triage." DeSoto decided.

##Who's with you?## the captain of Station 8 asked.

"Brice."

##Have him set up a size six nasopharyngeal. I don't know why he's having airway issues. There's yet very little color loss, to go with this unconsciousness.## said Stone, whom Roy knew as a paramedic before Stone became a fire captain for Station 8. ##Our ventilations are going in adequate.##

"Got it, Cap." said Craig over a monitoring H.T. "Roy, might be unknown COPD."

"Hank!" Battalion 7 shouted at Captain Stanley, who was at the Accountability table, writing down the latest personnel being shifted out of the fire area.

"Yeah?"

"On the double!" Battalion yelled. "Power plant team Station 8. One male civilian victim. Get on it! Leave Engine 51 and go with Squad 51!"

Stanley lifted his handy talkie. "L.A., Squad 51 and myself, are responding to Station 8's medical. They report extreme fire conditions at their location have passed. Residual airlessness is remaining. Electrical danger has been nullified."

##10-4, Station 51. ## And the tones began to sound for his call, over the main county fire channel, off of Fire Tac. ##Squad 51, Man down. 4 South 4th St. , Redlands, at the Santa Ana Hydroelectric Power Plant Number 3. 4 S 4th St. Redlands, at the Santa Ana Hydroelectric Power Plant Number 3. Environmental vacuum state is being reported at the site. Time out: 16:44.## said Sam Lanier, L.A. County Dispatcher and L.A. County Headquarters.

Captain Stanley eyed up his men. "Roy, Craig, full sbca. We'll mask up and wear them enroute, as soon as we see the river."

Chet concentrated on using the power plant's air filled Lytport resuscitator on Scott. "Scott, can you hear me? We're helping you out for whatever this is. Don't fight the mask. You won't suffocate." he shouted. "We got you."

Stone cast the scba mask that they had traded out for the positive pressure demand valve, to the floor. "Wish we could use oxygen, but the static in this room's still too high."

Marco, kneeling, shifted his feet from where he was monitoring Mason's carotid pulse. He yelped as a floor spark snapped to his skin through one of his shoes.

"You okay?" Captain Stone checked. He had seen the flash of static electricity arc into Marco from the metal floor grilling.

"Damn, that hurt." Marco hissed, sucking in another breath from his bottled air. A bead of sweat began to run down his forehead inside of his facemask. "Ooo."

"It's secondary. Something to do with the stacks being rechanneled, Mason said. It's kind of strong, but still okay. It won't do anything to us, except startle. Think flannel pajamas rustling, and winter blankets. Same effect. There's not enough atmospheric oxygen yet to dissipate it. Soon, though."

"When?" Chet gasped. "We have just two air only cylinders left for this.
We've already burned through one. We'll have to start in with the pure oxygen ones in eight minutes. After that... Our scba apparatus can't breathe for this guy. They're not designed for that."

"Help's on the way in twelve."
Stone nodded, listening to L.A. sending Squad 51's address information.
"Ah, finally. Do you hear that?" the captain asked, pointing at the ceiling.

"No, what? Is the fire coming back?" Lopez wondered, rubbing his foot with a gloved hand.

Stone shook his head.
"A thunderstorm. It's here. That's our bail out sign, at last." and he began to smile.

Marco loosened up Mason's pants belt for better ventilation room. His glove hand bumped Mason's vest and a packet of cigarettes dropped out of a pocket. "He's a smoker. Cigarettes.. only one left."

"C.O.P.D... Early emphysema? If he's a heavy smoker, and suffered a bronchial spasm, that would explain this now. The stress of bottled air. It's always so dry." Stone guessed. "Listen for wheezes."

Marco bent low and placed an ear over Scott's side facing upper chest. He looked up, nodding. "Sure sounds like it. They're bad."

"Okay. Keep at it, Chet. Only 12 a minute. We don't want to shut down his oxygen drive. Over oxygenating asthma can crash aveoli exchange."
Stone stood up, flinging the control room doors wide open to draw in moisture from the outside downpour. That, and to watch for Squad 51's flashing lights. "I'll call ahead to Rampart and let them know what we've got. That way, Respiratory Therapy will be set up in advance to receive him for interventions."

Roy and Brice shot out of the squad in their air bottles and masks.
"How's he doing?!"

Stone and his team had brought Mason outside onto the entrance road,
using the plant's wire rescue stokes. They had him on a table under the eaves to keep the heavy rain from landing on Scott's face. "He's a heavy smoker. We should have asked. He was never a candidate for staying with us, wearing self contained breathing apparatus."

Brice rushed with the airway box and snatched out the NP tube to use. "It triggered him."

"Yep." Ben. "He's almost completely obstructed in the upper passages.
There was wheezing earlier, now rhonci. We've got to hurry."

Firefighters Smith, Shull, Meyers and Duncan rapidly worked around Kelly as he and Roy traded off Mason's mechanical resuscitation task, once the nasal airway was threaded down into Scott's right nares and assessed for placement. "He's good." Craig reported, listening with a stethoscope. "Both lungs are inflating." He lifted his handy talkie to his facemask. "L.A., Squad 51 on scene."

##Squad 51, Time out : 17:02.##

Ben got out the biophone and summoned the base station staff. He set the channel dials to vital sign telemetry and began his hail. "Station 8 on behalf of Squad 51, do you read?"

It only took a minute for Rampart to reply.

##Unit calling in, this is Rampart. Please repeat.## said Dr. Morton.

Stone quickly filled him in, using a yellow patient tarp coat to cover the biophone so rain wouldn't interfere with its signal. "Rampart. This is Station 8 on behalf of Squad 51. We've a male, obese, age mid 50s. Acute respiratory syndrome following collapse. No trauma. Breath sounds :
early wheezes, now rhonci. History of smoking, and fire department scba apparatus use due to fire vacuum exposure. Sinus tach on limb lead of 120. Pulse is present. He is under assisted ventilations at 12 a minute via positive pressure room air. Unassisted, ventilations are 8 and shallow. He has an NP. No BP is available. We're emergency evac, en route to Triage."

Dr. Morton took his notes. He knocked on the glass and displayed Scott's vital signs. Dixie got on the black phone to call Respiratory and Dr. Early, the cardiac doc on duty. "Thanks Dixie. We need to rule out an M.I. . Collapse was due to respiratory distress. Squad 51. Continue cautious ventilation on room air only to perfusion. Monitor vital signs and start an I.V. Normal Saline TKO after you get to Triage. Let me know if his rhythm changes from S.T. to anything else."

##10-4, Rampart.## Ben replied. He quickly relayed instructions to Craig Brice.

On a whim, Stanley noticed Scott's lighter in his cast off vest, and drew it out quickly. He flicked it, and the gas ignited. "We've got flame. O2's just about back in the air."

Brice worked to sandbag Scott's head for better airway control. "Might be only temporary. That's the rain bringing it down from the clouds. If the rain stops.."

"Check your masks!" Stone advised. Marco climbed up the back of the squad along with Chet to grab the foot end of the stokes so they could place Scott on the roof, safely between the rail bars.
Soon, Mason was tied down with rope to prevent shifting as they worked. "Keep an eye on your regulators. Your air bottles will be low when you hit the green zone."

Hank jumped into the squad, and behind the wheel, as Roy, Brice,
and Chet stayed with Scott on top. Marco took the passenger seat.

Rain poured heavily, but Roy fought to keep his ventilations with the positive pressure valve even and light. Limb leads allowed him and Craig to monitor Mason's cardiac rhythm visually.
"Let's go, Cap!" DeSoto shouted to Stanley. "We're ready!"

Stone back away from the driver's door. "I'll stay here with my men and monitor things until another plant manager comes in."
He banged the side of the Squad once everybody was away from all wheels. "We're clear."

Hank Stanley reported in. "L.A., one victim enroute to Fire Main Triage. Have an ambulance standing by."

##Squad 51. Time out: 17:09.##

Lightning flashed in the sky as the rain intensified around them as Squad 51 took off for Triage at the top of the ridge.

Benjamin Stone stood, water streaming down his helmet in heavy cascades. It was the coolest he'd felt in days.
"You better make it, man." he wished about Mason.
"This fire's the only thing I want dead."

It was September 9th, and the dedication ceremony at Cistern Park had just wrapped up. Signs of the explosion and fire were still there, but fresh green growth was popping out of the ground in response to the autumn rains which had spelled the end of the Mine Fire. The sea had snuffed out the flames of its leading edge a full month ago.

The fall light was beautiful on the trees that changed into gold,
and a few monarch butterflies, hunting for an overwintering roost, were occasionally soaring overhead.

A-shift of Station 51 and Station 8 were busy grilling up hotdogs and hamburgers by the creek. Captain Stanley was handing out sticks to all the kids and was teaching them about how to roast marshmallows over a campfire that was safely nestled in river stones. Chet Kelly was building a game area, using horseshoes and steel pegs, that Gage had donated to the park.

Dixie McCall, Joanne DeSoto, Roy and Johnny and Doc Coolidge were sitting at the same picnic table, watching Grit run around,
in between licking their nearly empty food plates, with wild abandon.

"Now how about that?" Doc Coolidge grinned. "He's growing up fast, isn't he?"

"He's a cute one." McCall smiled, bending over to clap inviting hands towards the puppy, to see if she could incite a play bow.
They all watched as Grit ran over to the dedication monument where the remains of Boot had been interred. The puppy curiously sniffed the stone where Boot's face had been engraved. He barked once at the image, mistaking it for another dog. But then he got bored and raised leg peed on a bush near by.

"Grit! Show some respect." Johnny yelled, embarrassed. Gage ran over and scooped up the puppy who began bathing his face with whimpers of love and nervousness. "Oh, you're okay." said the paramedic. "Come on.."

He waved to the lucky five who had come to the event to adopt out Grit's brothers, sisters and mother, as new owners. Dave Gordon, Patty Burns and Les Taylor were handing out grab bags full of leashes, dog toys, and information pamphlets about rabies vaccinations.

He walked by the bar, where Dr. Brackett was mixing drinks for the event donators and by the wooden stage where Dr. Early on piano and Dr. Morton on saxophone, were warming up on scales, to do a set of some kind.

"What's this?" Roy's wife asked, surprised when the two doctors began gesturing towards Dixie.

"A little surprise for Johnny. Shhh.." McCall whispered. "He doesn't know.."

The saxophone set off Grit, who began howling to the sounds of it. Morton imitated the puppy, much to the amusement of the city park officials, who were standing around the monument, taking photos, for the newspapers.

Puzzled, Gage returned to his seat just as Dixie hopped onto the tiny stage made of driftwood. "Where's she going?"

DeSoto was silent. He just shrugged and sat back a little more,
with a huge grin on his face.

Joanne said, "Roy?"

"You'll see." said her husband, watching Chris and his daughter move to a blanket up a little closer, in order to better listen to the music.

Dixie's soft singing began, and wove a story about life and uncertainty and gentle clarity about knowing who you were inside, as time moved on. By the end lyrics, Gage's eyes were deeply filled with unfallen tears, which made him hold Grit even more tightly to his chest.

"I get it. I totally do." Johnny said to Roy and Joanne and the Doc. "And I know who that was for." he sobbed.

"For Boot, with love." McCall cried out to their table happily, and then she took a light hearted bow.

She returned to her glass of iced tea, under a smattering of applause from the small event crowd, and clasped Gage's hands warmly. "We all wrote parts of that, while stuck in traffic, believe it or not." she giggled.
"Johnny, I'm sorry." Dixie said, kissing his cheek.
"That song was supposed to do some healing. It was never meant to make you sad."

Doc Coolidge's gaze was gentle. "Sometimes, you gotta lance a wound to let out all of the pain."

Johnny pointed at the vet, accepting a napkin that Dixie handed to him. "That's it. Exactly. I'm fine, you guys. I think I just... finally accepted that he's really gone. It took until today. I mean.. even my memories are ..." he broke off and he and Chet shared a look of heart felt understanding of their grief across the lawn. "I still want to be here. Where he died. All of the time." he said, gesturing to the monument. "But in my heart, where Boot is.. it's the place you long for, but where you can't stay."

And with that, Johnny surrendered completely to the feeling of Grit's warmth and scent and happiness,
and a little bit of the heavy loss which had weighed Gage down all summer, drifted away, into the sunlight.

FIN

This story is dedicated to Tim Donnelly and Michael Norell.

This song will play on Angels of Light's End Credits page at Emergency Theater Live.

This 56th episode story is the final production that will be made at Emergency Theater Live's website. This concludes our twenty years of writing stories in the world of Emergency and its characters.

When the time comes for ETL's website to shut down in the fullness of time, full copies of all stories, both text and image versions, will remain, entirely intact, at the archive, the Wayback Machine for as long as that site wishes to host our stories.

Thanks for reading.

KMG 365