Author's Note: My apologies to all who are waiting for the next story in my Beauty for Ashes series. I still plan to write that one, but it's not the story that's coming to me right now. I hope you'll enjoy this one instead! Katbybee has been a huge help in the writing of this story so far, to the point that I consider her my co-author. Thank you also to Picean6724 for being an awesome beta reader.
The earthquake in this story is entirely fictional. Usually I like to use real events for my stories, but I couldn't find any earthquakes in the area with this level of effect during the time period I wanted, so I took a bit of license. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
June 15, 1977
Roy stared up at the cliff side to where the injured climbers were stuck. He wished Johnny weren't out sick. Josh Bridger was subbing. He was still a boot and inexperienced with climbs like this. Given Roy's own dislike for climbing, it wasn't a good combination. Oh well, there was nothing for it. They had to get up that cliff to bring the victims down.
"You'll be OK getting up there, pal?" Cap asked.
Roy swallowed hard. This sort of rescue was right up Johnny's alley. "Yeah, we'll manage. It would be easier if we could get to them from above —"
"But there's no good place for the helicopter to set you down." Cap frowned. "There's gotta be a better way."
"Nope. Only way is us climbing it. And we've gotta get started. I haven't seen the victims move at all, and that worries me. We'll send down a rope to hoist our supplies up when we get there." Roy listed off the things they would need as he pulled on his safety gear. Then he turned to his temporary partner. "You ready, Josh?"
"Yeah."
Roy didn't miss the waver in Bridger's voice. "All right, let's get up there." His forced cheerfulness probably wasn't fooling anybody. But what else could he do? He started climbing, and Bridger came up behind him.
Roy wasn't sure what worried him more, the height or the climb. His dad had been scared of heights. "It's not actually the height that bothers me," the gruff Danny DeSoto had once quipped. "It's the long drop and the sudden stop."
Don't think about it. Roy focused on each step of the climb, making sure his hands and feet went where they needed to go, testing each handhold and foothold before trusting it, gradually moving upwards. Every minute counts. That thought foremost in mind, he avoided any missteps on the way up. Every so often, he looked down to ensure that Bridger was still with him. "You're doin' great, pal," he said, trying to encourage himself as much as his partner.
When they got up to the victims, Roy just wanted to cuss. In fact, he did. The worst words he knew, the ones that would have JoAnne threatening him with a bar of soap. The urgent call to emergency services had been a prank. They'd made this dangerous climb to rescue a pair of crash-test dummies dressed in orange hunting vests. The little punk who'd made the call was probably watching from below, getting a big laugh out of it. He felt at his side for his handie-talkie. "Uh, Cap… this was all a prank. We'll start down now."
They'd made it about halfway when the earth began to shake. Bridger screamed as the whole mountain started to slide, carrying the two men downward with it. Roy tucked his body into a defensive position. At least he didn't have to worry about Jo and the kids — they were in Kansas visiting her mom. He was vaguely aware when his helmet fell off and then he felt a blow to the side of his head. Everything went dark.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Harriet DeSoto had spent her morning at the shopping mall, a rare treat for the grandmother of three. She was looking specifically for toys for her youngest grandson, D.J. The little boy had Down Syndrome. At fifteen months, he wasn't yet crawling, and she hoped she could find something that would help increase his strength and get him moving. And of course, she had bought some toys and books for his older siblings as well. As far as she saw it, she couldn't spoil those babies enough.
She fingered the ring on her right ring finger. Merritt Stirling had placed it there a couple of weeks ago. He was a wonderful man. He'd been a good source of ideas that could be helpful for D.J. Before retiring, he had worked as a physical therapist, and his oldest grandson had Down Syndrome. Harriet hadn't introduced Merritt to Roy yet. She wasn't sure how her son would handle her dating or being engaged — he had been so close to Danny. Harriet was certain that Roy's passion for the paramedic program was closely related to his father's death from a heart attack. Emergency personnel hadn't been able to do anything more than transport Danny to the hospital. By the time they arrived, it was too late. Roy, only fifteen at the time, had been devastated by the loss. And so, Harriet took off her engagement ring whenever she was around her son and his family. Eventually, though, she would have to tell them. Merritt was a real blessing in her life. He could never replace Danny, but his love was filling up the emptiness left behind by Danny's absence. Seventeen years was a long time to be alone.
Harriet had just sat down inside Alphonsine's, a French restaurant on the lower level of the mall. Merritt would be here any minute. She shoved her bags under the table and set her purse in the chair next to her.
Soon enough, Merritt's warm hand rested on her back, and she felt his lips on her ear. "Harriet, dear heart. I'm glad —" The low rumble as the shaking started cut him off. Soon dishes were clattering as the earth heaved around them. "Quick! Under the table!"
Harriet scrambled to do as Merritt said. She had been through plenty of earthquakes in her day, but this was the worst she'd ever experienced. The shaking just kept going and going and seemed like it was never going to end. Debris was falling from above them. Merritt hunkered down next to her, but he didn't fit under the small table. Still, he grabbed her hand and held on tight. They were still grasping hands when the mall collapsed around them, and so the couple crossed the threshold between this life and the next together.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Liliana Lopez was in her kitchen, washing the dishes. The grandkids had just eaten lunch and Pepita was getting them down for their naps. As Liliana scrubbed, she was planning supper. She rinsed dish soap from her hands, then ticked off on her fingers the people she would be feeding that evening. Marco was on shift so he wouldn't be there. Sylvia was spending the night at a friend's house. Maria, Naomi, and Juanito were having dinner with the church youth group. That left Rosita and Pablo and their three kids. Also, Pepita and Mateo, Consuela, Roberto, and Lupe. Only ten tonight, not counting herself. She laughed. I need a few extra hands to keep count of this family! Ten was a small number for a meal at the home of Liliana Esperanza Salvador Martinez de Lopez. Marco liked to joke that his mama lived in her kitchen, and he was not far off the mark. She smiled as she looked around her little kitchen. She had raised ten children in this house, listening as they shared their dreams and struggles while they helped her peel onions or slice potatoes or knead masa for tortillas. Her greatest joy came from feeding her large family and their friends. Tonight, she decided, they would feast on carne asada and street corn.
She had just put away the last dish and closed the cabinet door when the earth began to shake. She grabbed hold of the counter and closed her eyes for a second, just getting her balance. Get under a heavy table. Marco's voice said the words in her mind. Her middle son was the safety-minded one. Liliana looked at the big oak table. She would be safe under that, but first she needed to check on Pepita and the children. Pepita was expecting a baby in a couple of weeks, and she might have trouble managing her small nieces and nephews. And so, in that split second, Liliana decided that instead of diving under the table, she would go to Pepita and the children to do what she could for them. "Go with me, God," she murmured, crossing herself.
The ground was still rolling under her feet as she started from the kitchen to the back bedrooms. All around her, the house was beginning to crumble. It was like trying to stay on her feet on the boat to Catalina Island. Her children had taken her there for her birthday last year. She stepped over a crack in the floor. From the back bedroom, she could hear the twins, Sofia and Ruben, screaming, and Pepita trying to calm them. Marita and Raul were shouting, but they sounded more excited than frightened. Marco's voice kept talking in his mother's head. Make sure to shut off the gas. He'd shown her where to do it. She knew how to shut off the water and the electricity, too. And if she smelled gas, she had to open the doors and windows and then get out.
With one final heave, the earthquake knocked Liliana off her feet. She landed in a heap at the end of the hallway, her head striking hard against the back bedroom door frame. As the world went dark, she barely had time to hope that Pepita remembered her brother's instructions too.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Emily Stanley had just sat down at the breakfast table. The house was nice and neat, the kids were at camp, the cats' litter box was clean, and she only had herself to cook for tonight before she went to choir practice. It was a good time for a cup of coffee and a book. She was reading The Thornbirds, a nice thick book set on an Australian sheep farm. It had only just come out in April, and her sister had sent Emily a copy for her birthday last month. But reading is a luxury when you've got three kids, two cats, and a husband whose job keeps him away from home several days a week. Emily had been looking forward to this moment for weeks now.
She had barely started reading when she heard a low rumbling noise and her coffee cup started to rattle against the table. Coffee sloshed over the top edge of the cup. Emily grabbed up her book before it could be damaged.
When she realized what was happening, she felt sick to her stomach. Earthquakes terrified her. She'd never felt one back in Colorado, where she grew up. Of course, she'd felt several since moving to California to marry Hank, but she had never reconciled herself to them. When the ground started rolling, she froze. At least she didn't have to worry about the kids — they were at summer camp, hopefully far enough away to be safe. But this was an awfully big quake. She wasn't sure how far away it could be felt, how far the damage might spread.
She sat frozen for a few seconds at first, taking stock of the situation. When her coffee cup started sliding away from her, she remembered what she needed to do. She slid off her chair and took cover under the table. The coffee mug fell, shattering on the floor, and hot coffee splashed everywhere. At least no one will see the stain on this dark blouse. Emily couldn't account for such thoughts in the midst of a frightening situation, but somehow that's what went through her head.
She was worried for Hank of course, and for herself. But she also knew that Hank had worked hard to make this house as earthquake-proof as possible. It was a wood-frame house, not brick, which he said made a big difference. Apparently, he was right. Emily rode out the minute-long undulation of the earth under the table, then emerged to check things out. The power was out, which was par for the course after a big quake. Emily turned off the gas, just in case, then walked around the house looking for damage. The only problem she found was a long crack in the bathroom sink. All of Evvy's stuffed animals and dolls had fallen from the shelf where she kept them; in the boys' room, Doug and Bobby's books were all over the floor. But other than that, everything was all right. The cats were hiding under the bed in Evvy's room, and they wouldn't come out. "Poor babies," Emily murmured. "I understand." She scattered some treats on the floor leading to the door, hoping she could lure them out.
When she was done checking the house, Emily went to the phone. She didn't smell any gas, so she felt safe making a call from home. Unfortunately, phone service was down. She would have to wait to hear from Hank. She knew better than to try driving anywhere right now — it would be chaos on the streets, and emergency services needed to be able to get around. Besides, she could put herself in danger if she was out driving and there was road damage. For now, she would stay home.
She went downstairs and found the battery-operated radio in a kitchen cabinet. She tuned it to the news and went to sit in the living room and listen.
"Initial reports place the quake at a 7.2 on the Richter Scale. The epicenter was in Northridge, but we're getting reports of damage as far away as Riverside. The greatest damage appears to be in Norwalk, where the shopping mall has collapsed. Emergency services are searching through the debris for survivors. They have to be cautious of aftershocks, which could endanger them. They are requesting that residents stay off the roads except for emergency situations."
Norwalk… isn't that where Roy's mom lives? Emily whispered a prayer for Harriet DeSoto, then went on to pray for all of Hank's men and their families. Her book forgotten, she stayed on the sofa, praying through the aftershocks and waiting for word about her husband.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Beth was caught up in a nightmare. She was aboard a boat, and it was rocking in the waves, being tossed back and forth. She shuddered and forced her eyes open. She had a splitting headache, and the sunlight coming in her window only made it worse. What were the twins up to, anyway? When they got to horsing around, they could make the house rattle and shake with their antics.
But then she remembered that her in-laws were here and had taken the boys out for the day. She had come down with a nasty case of summer flu, and Mama had insisted that her daughter-in-law didn't need the stress of taking care of kids while she was sick. That's why Beth was in bed in the middle of the day. Mike was on shift — he'd offered to take the day off, but she'd told him she was feeling better, and he should go to work. All she was going to do was sleep anyway, and she didn't need him home for that.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized it was an earthquake, a bad one, but it still felt like a dream. Her mind was sluggish, half-asleep. When everything was finally still, she blinked open her eyes, but what she saw confused her. The sun shouldn't be shining down through the roof. Even so, she smiled. The billowing clouds above her looked just like a dragon. Was she still dreaming? She felt stuck in the bed, weighed down, and too tired and achy to try getting up, so she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep, hopeful that when she did wake up, she would find everything back to normal.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Johnny's eyes flew open when his bed started shaking. He'd caught a cold after a water rescue a week before, and a couple days later it turned into pneumonia. He'd been a guest at Rampart ever since. Illnesses like this tended to hit him hard since he lost his spleen. He didn't mind being pulled out of a nightmare, though he would have preferred a gentler awakening. In his dream, he'd been trying to dislodge a flock of crows that had decided to perch on him. The stubborn birds wouldn't budge, though. They just dug their talons in and stayed put no matter how Johnny tried to scare them away.
Crows showing up in his dreams didn't surprise Johnny too much. While his birth name in Choctaw was Nashoba, meaning wolf, some of his friends had called him Fala Tulak, or Sooty Crow ever since he started volunteering with the reservation fire department as a teenager. According to Choctaw legend, Crow had once been pure white with a beautiful singing voice, but when Buzzard first brought fire to the People, Crow had stood over it too long and breathed in too much smoke. As a result, his white feathers had darkened, and his song had transformed into a harsh caw, not much different from Johnny's voice now.
Now alarms were going off and screams coming from other rooms. Johnny was pretty sure he heard Nurse Stacy Hawkins — his most recent crush — crying out. The power went off and the shaking just kept going. Johnny instinctively grabbed his I.V. line and pulled it out, knowing he needed to get to his clothes and get dressed. He needed to be out there helping the staff once the shaking stopped. They were great at giving medical care, but he was trained for rescue, and his skills would be needed. He picked up the tape the nurse had left on his bedside table and slapped some over his puncture wound. The emergency generators hadn't kicked in yet, and he could hear panic all over the place. He made his way to the window and pulled open the curtains, which let in the sunlight. As the earth stilled, he headed for the closet where his clothes were stored. He dressed as quickly as he could. Now to go out into the hall and see how he could help.
Before he could get out the door, Nurse Linda Secrest stuck her head in. "Are you all right, Johnny? I… I can't find Stacy." Her face was pale, her voice strained.
"I'm fine." He coughed. He wasn't fine, but he would manage. "Let me get my boots on and I'll help." He pulled them on as he spoke.
Linda was favoring her right arm. She held it close to her chest and winced when she moved. "She… she was on her way to check on Kelly Davidson when it started. But I… I…" The nurse was struggling to get her words out. Her good hand went to her head. "I think…" She sank against Johnny.
He helped her to the bed. "Sit here. You've hurt your arm. Let me check it."
"I'm OK. Just worried… for Stacy…" She blinked and reached to pat him on the cheek, her hand batting the air for a second before she made contact. "There are two of you."
"Do you remember if you hit your head?" Johnny wished he had his penlight with him, but even without it he could tell her pupils weren't even.
She was quiet for a moment. "I… I think so. That potted plant… it fell off the big file cabinet."
"You lie down on my bed here, and I'm gonna find some help. I'll be right back, OK?"
"OK." Her voice wavered, but she did as he said. "Hurry please."
John stepped out into the hallway into total chaos and looked around for someone to help them. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dr. Early trotting down the hall.
"John!" The doc frowned. "You shouldn't be up, but we need all the help we can get, so I'm not going to press the issue."
"Actually, Doc, I need yours. Come here a minute, please. Got a patient for you."
"Sure." Dr. Early followed Johnny back to his room. "Ah, Linda. I thought you were taking the week off to spend with your grandson." He bent over his patient and checked her over. "I'm pretty sure that arm is broken, and you've got a concussion. We'll have to wait to get x-rays, though."
Just then, with a soft hum, the emergency generators kicked in. The lights came on dimly. It wasn't much, but it was an improvement.
Joe sighed. "That's a relief. All right, John. We've got to move patients to the other wing. There's too much damage on this end of the hospital. I'll take care of Nurse Secrest. You find Nurse Hawkins and get started with the evacuation. Then head downstairs. We're starting a triage and outdoor treatment area in the parking lot, and we could use your help." He patted Linda's shoulder. "You wait here while I get a wheelchair for you."
John nodded. "Yessir." He strode towards the door. There was a lot of work to be done, hopefully before an aftershock hit.
He went in search of Nurse Hawkins but was stopped in his tracks almost immediately.
"Help!" A familiar voice was coming from the stairwell. "Someone help!"
Johnny headed for the stairwell and opened the door. Nurse Sharon Walters was on the landing between floors, looking up at him over cracked and crumbling stairs. Half of the landing had broken away, and the rest looked like a slight breeze would knock it down. "Sharon? Are you hurt?"
She glared up at him. "Of all the people in the hospital, it had to be you." They'd had a couple of really bad dates a few years back and she'd never gotten over it. "I was coming up the stairs and when the quake started, I fell. I think I broke my ankle. I tried crawling up, but I don't think it's safe."
Johnny glanced around, briefly wondering if there was someone else who could take care of her. Clearly she would prefer it. But he was the only one present who had the proper training. He didn't have a choice, and neither did she. "Do you feel like you're unstable or about to fall where you are?"
"Not right here. But I can't move up or down." Sharon moaned. "Dammit, this really hurts!" She used to be a real nervous Nellie, but hardly anything fazed her these days. She sure seemed on edge now, though.
"OK, don't move. I have an idea. I'll be right back." Johnny hurried down the corridor to one of the storage rooms where bed linens were stored. Rope would work better, but he needed to get Sharon out of there before an aftershock hit. He grabbed an armload of sheets and, on his way back, a couple of orderlies. In short order, he had affected a sort of rope with the sheets. "Sharon, do you think you could tie this around your waist so we can haul you out of there?"
"Whatever I've gotta do, I'll do." Her voice sounded stronger now. "Are you sure that thing will hold?"
"It will from this end. I put good, strong knots in the sheets. All you have to do is put the harness part around you. It's makeshift, but it'll hold you. Let us do the work."
"All right, then." Sharon tied the harness around her. Just as she pulled the knot tight, another round of shaking started. "Just get me out of here!" she called. The stairs and landing were crumbling around her.
"Pull now!" John shouted. They pulled hard. Sharon was brought up to safety just as the stairwell crashed to the floor below them.
Johnny held on to her, but she squirmed so much he almost dropped her. "Put me down!"
He couldn't set her on her feet, so he passed her to an orderly who had a wheelchair at the ready. Fingers to his chest, he affected a bow and filled his tone with all the sarcasm he could muster. "You're welcome. So glad to be of service to someone so full of gratitude."
Johnny's continued search for Nancy Hawkins took him into the pediatric ward. Almost immediately, he was interrupted by the sound of shouting from one of the patient rooms.
"No! I won't! I won't!" Hell, that was a kid's voice! Next Johnny heard a crash. He peeked into the room to see a heart monitor lying broken on the ground and a little boy kicking and screaming on the bed. A light fixture had fallen from the ceiling, and he had a nasty gash on his arm.
A woman — the kid's mother, maybe? — was trying to calm the boy down. "Please, Jeffrey. We've got to go. You know the nurse said we had to evacuate this wing."
"I'm not goin'! I'm not!"
Johnny cleared his throat. He felt awful for the lady. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked exhausted and close to tears. "Can I help, Ma'am? I'm a paramedic."
She turned and looked at him, then sighed heavily. "It's my son's arm. He's scared of his own blood, but he won't let me do anything about it. And I'm afraid he's going to mess up his IV."
Johnny had worked with kids like young Jeffrey plenty of times. He knew exactly what to do. He also knew the potential dangers. From the look of things, Jeffrey had a full set of teeth, and he probably wasn't afraid to use them. Well, that was the job… even if he was officially off duty.
In one smooth movement, Johnny moved past the panicked mother and pulled young Jeffrey into his arms. "Agh!" he shouted as that perfect set of teeth chomped down hard on his hand. He pulled the kid off and looked at the bite. The brat had drawn blood! Johnny dropped him on the bed. "Now, you cut that out and calm down! You gotta let me take care of your arm so it doesn't get infected. You know what happens when infection sets in, don't you?"
That got Jeffrey's attention. He got really still and quiet. "No. What?"
"That's when you have to get a lot of shots." Johnny leaned closer. He had the kid right where he wanted him. "And if the infection gets really bad, they have to amputate."
"Am-pu-tate? What's that?" Jeffrey's eyes were big, and his jaw was practically in his lap now.
"It means they cut your arm off, Jeffrey," the mom snapped. She sounded almost gleeful. It nearly made Johnny laugh, until he realized she was casting grateful looks his way. A little too grateful, and she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. He had no intention of encouraging her.
"Exactly. But if you just let me wrap it up, we can hope to avoid all of that." Johnny grabbed a roll of gauze and some medical tape from a cabinet. Even the kid's freckles had gone pale at this point. Johnny wrapped up the arm without further incident, made sure the IV was secure, and then pointed the pair towards an orderly who would take them to the other wing.
Johnny wondered how Roy was faring in all of this but didn't have time to check in with him. And it looked as if he was going to be too busy to check in anytime soon, because he finally found Nurse Hawkins. She washed out and wrapped his bite wound, told him to have a doctor look at it as soon as possible, and then put him to work evacuating patients. He began pushing wheelchairs and gurneys from one wing to the other. There were a lot of patients to transfer. Johnny joined a small cavalcade of other workers as they raced against time, trying to complete their task before more aftershocks hit.
Over the next hour, there were a few tremors, but nothing as bad as the initial quake or the first aftershock. Still, Johnny knew it could be days, even weeks, before they were in the clear. At least it seemed that, for the most part, this quake hadn't caused too many injuries at Rampart. Even so, the Emergency department was swamped, as Dixie had predicted, with people coming in from all over the city. Three other hospitals had been hit so hard they'd had to close their ERs, and a lot of the cases they would have handled were being brought here.
"John!" Dr. Brackett came striding past the large triage tent, closest to the ER doors. "Roy's on the way in. He's been hurt pretty bad."
Fear clenched John's heart. "What happened?" He'd been about to ask Brackett to check his hand, but now that was forgotten.
Brackett frowned. "He was on a climbing rescue when the quake hit. He and Bridger slid down the mountainside. Um… Bridger didn't make it." He sucked in a deep breath. "Johnny, Roy has an open fracture of the left tibia and fibula. Most likely a serious concussion. And there appears to be some spinal damage. He's conscious, but he isn't feeling anything below the waist."
John simply stared at the doctor, stiff with shock. His words barely computed. Roy paralyzed? Oh, hell no!
Dr. Brackett gripped Johnny's arm. "We've got Charlie on standby to get images as soon as Roy arrives, and we've got an OR tent all set up in case he needs surgery. You know Joe will do everything he can. Meanwhile, I need your help here. It's a madhouse."
Mutely, John nodded. He would help to the best of his ability, but his heart was elsewhere. His heart was with his brother. And John was scared to death.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Hank Stanley struggled to get off the gurney. He needed to be with his fallen paramedic, who had just been rushed away for treatment. "Let me off this thing, you twits! I'm fine!" His head was pounding, and his right wrist was killing him, but that was beside the point. Roy needed him. Out of the corner of one eye as he was wheeled into triage, he saw Johnny. "Gage! Get over here and tell 'em I can walk!"
John walked over to the gurney and leaned over Cap. "No can do. You need to be seen, Cap. Just to make sure you're OK. Brackett would have my head if I let you up and you passed out or something."
Hank groaned. "Buncha twits in this place." But he stopped trying to get up. His head hurt too much. "Listen, Gage… Mike an' Marco are comin' in on another bus. Let me know how they're doin'. Not… not sure what happened with Chet. Didn't see him before they loaded me. And Roy…" His voice trailed off. "Damn."
Johnny was quiet for a second. "Yeah, Cap, I know. I saw him come in. They're takin' good care of him."
"All this over a stupid prank!" Hank rolled over suddenly and lost his lunch. Wait, no, it was his breakfast. He never got lunch. At least he missed Gage's boots. That's when he noticed the bandage on Johnny's hand. "Wha' happened to you?"
Johnny didn't answer. He just hollered for the orderlies to follow a nurse's instructions to get Hank triaged right away, then moved on. Hank closed his eyes, but the nurse gave him a gentle shake. "You can't sleep now, Captain Stanley. We think you have a concussion."
"Tell me about it." Hank shuddered. He hurt too bad to fall asleep, but he needed to close his eyes. He was still nauseous and all the motion around him just made it worse. Not to mention that he was being eaten alive by worry. His aching brain kept darting in every direction: Was Emily OK? The kids were at summer camp. Were they hurt? He didn't remember the name of the camp. How would he find them? Would Roy make it? And what the hell had happened to Chet? It was like he'd just disappeared on them.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
The next ambulance deposited Mike Stoker and Marco Lopez. They were brought off on gurneys, even though they weren't badly hurt. The triage doctor sent them to a makeshift waiting area until their turn for treatment. Marco had a cut on his right cheek that would probably need stitches, and Mike had a couple of deep cuts under his left eye. Mike didn't mind being a last priority, but he also didn't like waiting around for hours when Chet was missing and Beth was home sick. The boys were out with their grandparents today and Mike had no clue where they'd gone. He would have to trust Mama and Pops to take care of them. But Chet and Beth — they needed him. He had half a mind to grab Marco off his ugly metal folding chair and get the hell out of there. They could get stitched up later, once Chet and their families were safe.
He was worried about Marco, though. The senior lineman hadn't uttered a word since the landslide had buried Chet, and he was all pale and trembly. He'd fought like hell when the paramedics first tried to strap him to the gurney. It took severe threats from 36's Captain Liscombe and Chief McConnikee to get him to cooperate. Could a concussion affect speech? Mike didn't think Marco was concussed, but maybe it was best to stick around and get him checked over after all. Captain Liscombe and his men were looking for Chet, after all. Then again, Liscombe hated Chet Kelly. Mike wasn't sure he would put much effort into the search.
When Mike saw Johnny crossing the waiting area, making his way toward them, he felt a sense of relief. If Johnny thought Marco needed to stay here, he would say so. If he did, Mike was pretty sure Marco would need something to calm him down because he was awfully agitated. He sat there bouncing his knees, hands clenched into tight fists.
Mike looked at Marco and then Johnny. He hoped Johnny could see the worry he was trying to convey without speaking it. He didn't want to mention it in front of Marco if he could help it.
Johnny approached and knelt facing Marco. "Hey guys, what's going on? How ya doin', Marco?"
"He isn't talking," Mike said. He cleared his throat. His own voice was barely more than a whisper. "Not since Chet pushed him out of the way."
"Out of the way of what? And where's Chet?"
Mike shuddered. "Landslide. Same one that brought Roy down the mountainside. Chet's…" He squeezed Marco's shoulder. "Chet's under the slide. Liscombe and McConnikee wouldn't let us help look for him."
"What?" Johnny's eyes flared. His voice rose in indignation. "You mean he's… they aren't even trying?"
Mike held up a hand, hoping to calm his friend down. "They are trying. But they… they don't think…" Mike shook his head. He couldn't say the words. Not in front of Marco. "They pulled us off and made us come in. We were trying to get to him." A second later, he added, "Bridger's gone. Broken neck."
Johnny shut his eyes for a long moment. Mike watched him take several deep breaths. Then he opened his eyes. "Chet's alive." It was a statement. Not a question.
Marco didn't respond. At least, not in words. But he made the sign of the cross and nodded.
John's gaze moved from Marco to Mike. "I have to go to him. I don't trust Liscombe to do right by him. One of you needs to show me where the slide is."
Mike's gaze dropped to the hospital bracelet on Johnny's wrist, and from there to the gauze wrap on his hand. "You're sick. You shouldn't be out of bed. And what happened to your hand, anyway?"
"Doesn't matter," Johnny said with a defiant shake of his head. "Chet needs me."
Marco nodded. He put a hand to his chest and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He turned to Mike and gestured to him.
Mike understood exactly what Marco wanted to say, and he agreed. "He needs us." He sighed and stood up. "Well, come on, before anyone can stop us. We'll find Chet. We'll check on our families. JoAnne's still out of town, right?"
"Yeah. For the rest of the week." Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. "Phones are probably out. Can't even call her to let her know about Roy. But first things first. How are we gonna get up there?"
Mike pulled a key out of his pocket. "36's brought our Squad down. Givens handed me the key before they left. Big Red took a bad hit, can't be driven." Mike winced. The thought of his beloved engine being damaged hurt more than the cut on his face. "But the Squad's ok."
"Well then, let's get outta here." At Johnny's urging, the three men headed for the Squad, unnoticed in the general confusion.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
JoAnne DeSoto's mother brought a tray of lemonade out to the front porch, where Jo sat watching her two older children play on the swing set their doting grandfather had built for them. It was a hot, sticky day, but the kids didn't seem to care. Jo's youngest, D.J., sat on a blanket on the porch, mouthing a brightly colored book. Mother set the tray on the wicker table, then settled herself into a chair. "This old house needs children. I really wish you would consider staying."
Jo bristled. Oh no, we're not going to start that again. "You have a lovely home here, Mother, but my home is in Los Angeles. It has been for years now. You know that."
Mom pursed her lips. Even though the lemonade was sweet enough to rot the teeth, she looked as if she'd tasted something terribly bitter. "That man is keeping you away from us."
Jo sighed. "'That man' has a name. It's Roy and he's my husband. I love him very much. Please, let's not argue about it again, Mother." Jo sipped her lemonade and shuddered at the taste.
Picking up a paper fan from the table, Mom waved it in front of her face. She was quiet for a moment, but she never could refrain from talking for long. "I just can't understand what you see in him. Listen, Jo. If you would just leave him, I could introduce you to a doctor who lives down the street. He's a widower and wealthy and he loves children." Her eyes narrowed as her gaze fell on D.J. Her disapproval of the little boy bothered JoAnne even more than her disapproval of Roy. She never spoke either one's name. "There's an excellent home for retarded children not far from here. That child would be well cared for there. You couldn't expect Dr. Harrington to take him on along with the older two."
Jo's jaw dropped. Of all the nerve! "Mother! D.J. is staying with me and Roy and that's all there is to it! I am not interested in your Dr. Harrington! Listen, I stopped expecting you to understand my choices years ago, but you have to live with them."
"Jo Baby!" her father called from inside the house. "You'd better come see this!"
Mom shook her head. "What that man gets on about… just ignore him, dear."
Grateful to get away from the growing confrontation, JoAnne ignored her mother instead, scooped up D.J., and hurried into the house. "What is it, Dad?"
Dad had the news on. "Big quake in Los Angeles. Lots of damage. I sure hope Roy's OK. Your house, too." He put an arm around her shoulders.
"What?!" She passed D.J. to his grandpa, then grabbed the phone off the hall table and dialed the number at the station. It didn't ring. Instead, she got a fast busy signal. The phones must be out of order. Still, she tried again. Same thing. Most likely, Roy was out on a call anyway. Next she tried calling her next-door neighbor, but again she just got the fast busy signal. Frustrated, she stared at her father. "I guess I'll just have to wait until he contacts me. Oh, Daddy…" She swallowed a sob. She couldn't break down in front of D.J. "He just has to be all right!"
Dad pulled JoAnne close. "I'm sure he will be. He's a scrapper, that man of yours. And he'll move heaven and earth to make sure he gets back to you and the kids. Come on… let's pray for him."
Jo nodded, even as tears began to flow. She was scared, and she desperately needed comfort. She needed Roy. Her daddy's prayers would have to do.
"God, we don't know where Roy is and we don't know if he's hurt. But you know. Help us to trust that he's in your hands and that you're taking good care of him. And please, God, let JoAnne hear from him soon. In Jesus' Name, Amen."
Dad didn't let go of JoAnne while he prayed. Instead, he gently rubbed her back, the way he used to do when she was a little girl seeking comfort from nightmares. Little D.J. patted her face. "It's gonna be all right, honey," Dad said. "Roy's gonna be all right."