WARNING: Best avoided by younger or more sensitive readers, as the "T" rating is meant to indicate. I really mean it for this chapter.
A/N: The reader will note that some incidents in this series are not being dispatched as "Unknown Type Rescue." But what you get from dispatch is not always the complete story, or the correct story. All the dispatch information does is tell you where to go, and give you some idea of what to bring in the door with you. Sometimes, you have to go back to your rig, because things weren't what you anticipated.
A/N 2: The terminology I'm using in this chapter is what people would have used in the 1970s. It is not intended as anything other than that. And now, on to our irregularly scheduled story.
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Chapter 7: Unexpected
BWAM, BWOOMP BWEEEP!
The lights came on in the dorms automatically when the tones dropped, and all six men stepped into their boots and pants, just as automatically. When they heard the dispatcher announcing the call, four men stepped out of their boots and fell back into their bunks, still on autopilot.
"Squad 51, child with severe abdominal pain. 2774 Trader's Lane. 2-7-7-4 Trader's Lane, cross street Clarksburg. Time out: 0055."
Roy saved his groan until he and Johnny had cleared the dorms, turning the lights back off on their way out. He let out a mighty groan and yawn as soon as they hit the apparatus bay.
"Tell me about it," Johnny replied with a rival yawn. "Damn. Those lucky bastards back there probably won't even remember that there was a call at one a.m."
"We probably won't, either," Roy said. "Abdominal pain in a child, in the middle of the night? Any guesses?"
"Now Roy, aren't you the one who's always telling me not to count my chickens before they hatch? I'm not gonna bite this time. Especially after all the crap you gave me last shift for freakin' out about the kid with the purple circles around her eyes. No sirree Bob, I'm keeping my eyes and my mind wide, wide open. Nothin's gettin' past John Gage anymore. Observation is my middle name."
"Okay, Junior. But I'll bet you five bucks that the only thing that's hatching here is a hot appendix, or good old gastroenteritis." Roy said.
"You're on," Johnny said.
"I thought you weren't going to bite."
"Take a right at the light. No, I'm not gonna bite on the assumption, Roy. But I'll bite on the bet. And I'll bite on all the juicy burgers I'm gonna get with the five bucks you'll owe me when this turns out to be—okay, then the next left—turns out to be something you didn't expect."
They drove on in the darkness for a few more blocks.
"All right, this should be the cross street. Take a right, then our block should be the first left."
It was. Roy pulled the squad up in front of the house, and grabbed the equipment they guessed they'd need for a call that sounded medical in nature. As they approached the front door, it flew open, and a wild-eyed woman beckoned them inside. They could hear screaming and crying coming from upstairs.
"Hurry, hurry! It's my daughter—I just don't know what's wrong with her! She wasn't feeling well during the day, so she stayed home from school, but she started having really bad stomach cramps a few hours ago, and they just seemed to get worse and worse, and now she's just screaming, and I know she needs to go to the hospital, but she can't get up now, and she's far to big for me to manage on my own, and—just hurry!"
The three of them flew up the stairs to the child's bedroom. It was pink and frilly, and littered with stuffed animals of various sizes and breeds. The room looked like it belonged to a six-year-old, but the bed was occupied by a teenaged girl, who appeared heavy, if not outright obese. She was clutching a large pink rabbit to her abdomen. Johnny and Roy exchanged a Look.
"What's her name, ma'am, and how old is she?" Johnny asked, as Roy approached their distraught patient.
"Miranda Hogan—she just turned fourteen. But—you have to understand, she's more like a small child in some ways. Please, can you help her?" The mother twisted her hands, and watched as Roy started to place an oxygen mask over the girl's face.
"No, no no! No touching me!" the girl shouted, and went right back to her keening cries of pain. Roy took a step backwards, and looked at the mother.
The mother went to the head of the bed and sat down. "Honey, they're helpers from the fire department. They're going to take care of you while we get you to the hospital in an ambulance, all right? I'll be right here. Please, you need to let them help you." She turned to Roy. "Please, please …"
"We'll do everything we can, ma'am. We have to get an idea of what's going on, first. I'm going to call the hospital on this phone while my partner Roy checks her over," Johnny said, as he set up the biophone.
Roy spoke gently to the girl as he got her vital signs, wrote them on a slip of paper, and handed them to Johnny a minute later. Johnny could hear him talking about his own family, his daughter.
Mrs. Hogan continued to spout information at Johnny as he tried to contact Rampart.
"She hasn't been herself for a couple of months, and she's gained a lot of weight. She's always been heavy, but not like this. She's been holding her belly-bunny—uh, that pink rabbit—for the last couple of days. That's what helps her feel better when she has a tummy ache. She … she goes to a special school. They let her bring it."
Johnny nodded. "All right. I understand."
The girl seemed to calm down a bit, but was breathing hard and sweating profusely.
"Can I put this mask on your face?" Roy asked quietly. "It's oxygen, which should help you breathe easier, and help you feel a little better."
Miranda stared Roy in the face for a moment, and flicked her eyes back up to her mother's. Her mother nodded. "Please, baby, let him put it on."
Miranda shook her head. "No."
"Ma'am, maybe she'd let you put the oxygen mask on her?" Roy said.
The mother nodded, and was able to put the mask on Miranda's face. Within a few seconds, she seemed to be breathing more slowly and easily.
Johnny finished setting up the biophone, and had made initial contact with Dixie at Rampart.
"What are the vitals, 51?"
"Respirations are 30 and shallow, pulse is 140, and BP is 160/100."
"51, say again on the BP?"
"160/100, Rampart. We'll take it again now to confirm that reading."
Roy nodded, and pumped the cuff up again, letting the air hiss out slowly. "162/98."
"Repeat BP is 162/98."
"10-4, 51; Dr. Early is on his way."
Roy looked Miranda in the eye. "Are you feeling any better?"
"My tummy hurted, and then it don't hurt. And then it hurted again. And then it don't hurt, and—" she cut herself off as she doubled over and wailed.
"Miranda, I need to feel your belly," Roy said. "I promise I'll be gentle, and your mom is right here."
He didn't wait for a response. He worked his hands around her arms, which were clutching at her midsection, and palpated gently.
Nobody in the world but Johnny, or possibly Joanne, would have noticed the subtle change that came over Roy's face just then.
"Roy?" Johnny asked. But he knew.
"I think the ambulance should be just about here," Roy said. "Mrs. Hogan, could you flag them down for us?"
"Oh, of course! Honey, oh, sweetheart—I'll be right back, and then we'll get you straight to the hospital," Mrs. Hogan said, as she flew out of the room.
"Roy, did you feel what I thought you felt?"
Roy nodded, his face expressionless. "Full term, or close to it."
Johnny clenched his jaw, but didn't say a thing.
"Miranda, we need to ask you some questions, okay?" Roy said gently, as the pain seemed to subside for a moment. "They're very important, to help us take care of you."
Miranda gave a tiny nod.
"Your period," Roy said. "When was the last time you had your period?"
"What?" Miranda said.
"Your monthly bleeding."
"I don't like that!" she wailed. "It hurtin' agai—aaaah!"
Roy let Miranda squeeze his hand hard, until she let go, over a minute later.
Roy looked at Johnny. "Eighty seconds long, with ninety seconds between." Johnny nodded.
Roy returned his attention to Miranda. "Miranda," he said slowly, "do you think you could be pregnant?"
She looked at them blankly.
"Having a baby?" Johnny said.
Miranda looked at Johnny quizzically. "No. I don't know how. I'm a kid." She clutched her rabbit to her belly tightly, and looked away.
Roy decided to try one more strategy to try to confirm their suspicions. "Honey, your mom said you've been sad. Did anything happen that was strange?"
Miranda put her rabbit over her face, and covered her ears with the rabbit's floppy pink ears.
"Miranda, it's very important."
"Him say no telling. Him say mommy cry and hit me." Miranda was barely audible through the plush and the stuffing.
Johnny and Roy looked at each other, each feeling as sick as the other one looked.
Johnny turned away. "All right. I'm gonna go talk to the mom, and get her back up here. And, uh, get some more equipment. I'll talk to Rampart once the mom is up here with you."
"Mommy! I want my mommy!" Miranda whimpered.
"I'm going to get her right now, Miranda. I'll be back with her in just a minute," Johnny said. And I'm not looking forward to what I have to say to her between now and then.
Just as Johnny left the room, they could see the flashing lights of the Mayfair rig that was pulling into the driveway. Johnny could hear Roy talking quietly to Miranda as he raced down the stairs and met the attendants at the door, which Mrs. Hogan had once again opened. Miranda started wailing again as he left the room, leaving the door open behind him.
"Guys, we need you to hold off for a minute until we have some clarity here," Johnny said. "You can wait in your rig."
The attendants looked at each other and shrugged, and pulled their gurney back out the door. Johnny sighed. The two attendants weren't the ones he wanted in a situation like this, but he didn't get to pick and choose.
"Clarity?" Mrs. Hogan said. "What do you mean?"
"Come sit down," Johnny said, and led Mrs. Hogan to a chair in her own living room. "Ma'am, I'm John Gage, and my partner Roy DeSoto is upstairs with Miranda. I need to talk to you for a minute before we go back up."
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Hogan's voice was shaking.
"Mrs. Hogan, there's every indication that your daughter is in labor." Johnny surprised himself by keeping his voice absolutely calm and level. On the inside, he was anything but.
Mrs. Hogan stared at him, her mouth open. Johnny watched as the color drained from her face as if she'd suddenly lost half her blood, and she pitched forwards in the chair. He was ready, so he caught her, and held her so her head was between her knees.
"Mrs. Hogan?"
She didn't respond. After fifteen seconds or so, she groaned and pushed herself upright.
"Having a baby?"
Johnny nodded.
"Oh god, oh god! How did I not notice this? How did—oh my god!" Mrs. Hogan buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god," she repeated.
"It's not going to happen any second now, but her blood pressure is quite high, so we do need to get her to the hospital, all right? And the doctors are going to ask us to check her, and you need to be there for that."
"Oh my god," Mrs. Hogan repeated, burying her head in her hands again.
"Mrs. Hogan, we really need to go upstairs, all right? I understand this is difficult—" a total lie, Johnny understood as he said it, but it was the thing to say— "but Miranda needs you." He extended a hand to her, and reconsidered his guilt about lying. It wasn't really a lie—he did understand that it was difficult, so it wasn't a total lie. But of course he didn't understand how it must feel. That, as neither a parent nor a female, he had no clue about.
Mrs. Hogan took Johnny's extended hand, and let him help her up from the chair. She trudged up the stairs, but her heavy footsteps sped to a dash as Miranda started wailing again.
Johnny followed, heart and feet leaden. Mrs. Hogan entered the room, and Johnny followed. He picked up the biophone, and took it a few steps away from the bed.
"Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have some more information on our patient."
"Go ahead, 51," said Dr. Early's voice.
"Rampart, our patient is fourteen and mentally retarded per the mother's information. Roy palpated what appeared to be a nearly full-term gravid uterus in contraction. Patient is unable to confirm date of last menstrual period. The mother is present and may be able to provide more information shortly. Patient is having what appear to be contractions, lasting approximately eighty seconds, with ninety seconds between the end of one and the start of the next. The mother had a syncopal episode when we told her what we thought was going on, but she recovered within thirty seconds and appears stable at this time."
Dr. Early paused longer than was typical for him. "Ten four, 51. Are you able to determine the extent of dilation?"
"Uh, Rampart, the mother is now present, and we'll attempt to determine momentarily."
"All right, 51. Don't disturb your patient unduly. As an alternative, find out whether the baby is crowning, or if any parts are presenting."
"Copy, Rampart. Will attempt to determine extent of dilation, and if that's not possible, whether the head is crowning or if any other parts are presenting."
Johnny put the handset down.
"Roy?"
"I heard. Mrs. Hogan, do you know when Miranda's last normal menstrual period was?"
Mrs. Hogan shook her head. "I was just thinking about that. She's only had one, ever. That was about ten months ago. The doctor said she'd probably never be regular."
Roy nodded. "Okay. That's helpful information. Also, the doctor wants us to see if her cervix is dilated. But we also don't want to upset her too much. It's very unusual for us to ask this, but would you prefer to check?"
Mrs. Hogan blanched. "I don't even know what that means. When Miranda was born, they knew in advance I had to have a C-section, so I was never in labor. But, uh, she'll probably have a fit if you touch her."
"Okay—all we need to know, then, is if you can feel a baby's head, or any other body parts. Do you think you can help us with that?"
Mrs. Hogan's hands shook. "I guess I'll have to. Maybe if I do it during a contraction, she might not even notice."
"It's up to you whether or not you want to explain what you're going to do. You know her best."
"I'll just do it during a contraction. She won't understand anyhow."
"Okay," Roy said.
"Mommy? It hurtin' again!"
"I know, baby, I know."
Mrs. Hogan did what she needed to do. Miranda had her bunny clutched to her face, and didn't seem to notice what was happening.
"I don't feel anything," Mrs. Hogan said.
"Okay. That means we don't have to rush to the hospital. But we do have to get there soon," Roy said.
"Of course." Mrs. Hogan suddenly sat on the floor, head in her hands. "Who would … I can't …"
Johnny picked up the biophone again.
"Rampart, this is Squad 51."
"Go ahead, 51."
"The mother states that the last normal period was approximately ten months ago, and that the child's doctor had said to expect irregularity. We're not able to determine the extent of dilation at this time. The mother checked for crowning or any presenting parts, and didn't find any. New vitals are …" Johnny took the slip of paper Roy was extending to him. "Respirations 26, pulse 132, BP 162/94."
"Ten-four, 51. Keep the patient on O2. Start an IV, normal saline, TKO. Transport as soon as possible."
Johnny got Roy's attention as he repeated the instructions. "Copy, Rampart. O2, IV normal saline TKO, and transport. Rampart, the patient is in significant emotional distress. Request permission to transport non-code-R, with the mother in the patient compartment."
Early paused. "Go ahead, 51. That's probably advisable in this case."
Johnny started setting up an IV kit.
"Uh, Johnny, I think you oughta do this. You're better at it, and I need to not be the bad guy, since I'm riding in with her."
The knot in Johnny's stomach got a little tighter, but he was going to suggest the same thing anyhow. "Yeah, okay."
"Mrs. Hogan, can we talk in the hallway for a second?" Roy said.
"All right," Mrs. Hogan said. She stood up heavily, and followed Roy into the hallway. Roy closed the door behind them.
As soon as the door was closed, Mrs. Hogan burst into tears.
"Who could do this to her? Who?"
"Some kind of animal," Roy said quietly. He didn't usually express himself that way on the scene with families, but the situation dictated it. And he couldn't help it. "But Mrs. Hogan, the important thing now is to keep Miranda as calm as we can given the circumstances. And one of the most important things for her will be to see that you're calm."
"How can I be calm?" she hissed, barely audible over Miranda's screams. "How can I possibly be calm? Someone raped my daughter, and she didn't even know what was happening, and I didn't even notice that my own daughter was pregnant! How the hell can I possibly be calm?"
"I couldn't be," Roy admitted. "I have a six-year-old daughter. I couldn't be calm. But I could try to pretend, for her sake. Can you do that?"
"I guess I have to." She took a deep, shaky breath, and another. "I'll scream and cry later."
"Thank you. You're an amazing mother," Roy said.
"I don't feel like it, right now. I feel like the most neglectful person on the face of the planet."
"You're not. It's not your fault."
"Maybe I'll believe you someday."
"I hope so."
He put his hand on the doorknob. "On her last contraction, my partner put in an IV. She probably didn't feel it through the pain of the contraction, but she'll need you to explain it to her. You can tell her it's like a shot that stays there, and she needs to try not to touch it."
"I think I should also wrap her arm up in a blanket, so she can't see it," Mrs. Hogan said.
"All right," Roy said. "That won't hurt anything." He paused for a second or two. "Is there anyone you'd like us to call? For you?"
Mrs. Hogan shook her head. "I know what you're trying to say, without saying it. Her father's gone. He took off when she was four, and still couldn't walk or talk. He's never seen her since then. I don't want him here."
"Do you have a friend you'd like us to call?"
"I can't even think about myself right now."
"Fair enough," Roy said.
"When we get to the hospital …" Mrs. Hogan stopped.
"There will be an obstetrician who will know the best thing to do."
Mrs. Hogan nodded. "Let's go."
Roy opened the door, and they went back in.
"Johnny, let's get the gurney up here."
"I'm on it," Johnny said, as he headed downstairs again.
"Mommy?" Miranda whimpered.
"We're going to the hospital, honey," Mrs. Hogan said.
Roy explained further. "We're going to carry you down the stairs on a bed with wheels. Then we're going to drive in an ambulance."
Miranda shook her head. "Too loud!" She imitated the wailing of a siren.
"We won't let the ambulance make that noise."
Another contraction hit her, hard. She was no longer able to cry normally or scream during the contractions, but started sobbing as soon as she could breathe again. Johnny and the two white-clad Mayfair attendants entered the room, and Miranda shrieked.
"No mans! No mans!"
Johnny motioned the attendants back out into the hallway. "Guys, me and Roy are gonna bring her down, all right? I know it's not protocol, but that's how it's gonna have to be this time."
"Suit yourself, Gage," one of the attendants said. "Just don't sue us if you break your back."
"Get in the rig," Johnny snapped. "And we're going in non-code-R, nice and easy. Got it?"
"Sheesh. Yeah, got it."
Johnny ignored the mutterings of "What's up his ass?" and "Fuck if I know," and returned to the pink room.
"Miranda, Johnny and your mom and I are gonna help you get on this funny bed, okay?" Roy said, as Johnny adjusted the gurney to the same height as the mattress on the bed.
"Mrs. Hogan," Johnny said, "you can just hold her hand; we'll do the lifting."
Roy untucked the fitted sheet from around the head of the bed while Johnny took care of the bottom. They left all of Miranda's covers on her the way she had them, and on a count of three, used the sheet to slide her smoothly onto the gurney, and adjusted into a semi-upright position.
Johnny buckled Miranda's lower body onto the gurney, while Roy and Mrs. Hogan took care of her upper body.
"Let's do the stairs between contractions," Johnny suggested. "They're a straight shot, no landing, so it shouldn't be too hard."
"Good plan. Mrs. Hogan, why don't you go ahead of us, and stand at the bottom where she can see that we're taking her towards you."
"All right," Mrs. Hogan said. She held Miranda's hand through the next horrible contraction, and then spoke to her daughter again. "Honey, we're going down the stairs. John and Roy are going to carry your bed, just like you're a princess. And I'll be right there at the bottom waiting for you. And then I'll ride with you in the ambulance." She kissed Miranda's sweaty forehead, and led the way out of the room.
Johnny and Roy maneuvered the gurney out the door, and waited at the top of the stairs until another contraction came and went. As soon as it was over, they gently carried the gurney down the stairs, and wheeled Miranda into the waiting ambulance.
"See you at Rampart," Johnny said.
"Yeah."
Johnny closed the doors of the patient compartment, and rather than banging on them, he went around to the front of the ambulance and spoke to the driver. He pretended he hadn't heard the man's griping a few minutes ago, and spoke as neutrally as he could.
"They're ready to go. Mom's in the patient compartment, on doctor's orders, and the kid's real scared. So make it a real easy, quiet ride, all right?"
"Sure thing, Gage."
Johnny watched as the ambulance pulled away. He stepped into the squad, and reached for the radio.
"L.A., Squad 51."
"Squad 51."
"Request law enforcement to meet us at Rampart. We need to give a statement about this run. Our ETA to Rampart is approximately ten minutes."
"Copy. Law enforcement en route to Rampart. ETA fifteen minutes."
"Received."
Johnny tried not to think about anything at all on his way to Rampart. He failed miserably. Ten minutes later, he and Roy sat in the deserted staff lounge, pretending to drink coffee, and not saying a damned thing. Five minutes after that, Vince Howard entered the lounge.
"Fellas," he said, noting their demeanor. "Bad one?"
"Like you wouldn't believe, Vince," Johnny said. "We just transported a fourteen-year-old mentally retarded girl. Who was in labor."
Vince whistled. "Yep. All right. You know the drill. Write out your statements, and don't talk about it with each other after."
Roy looked up at Vince. "Vince, I'm gonna have to talk about this with someone. I'm not gonna be able to let this one go."
"Same here," Johnny said, barely audibly.
Vince nodded slowly. "All right. Talk to your department's chaplain or counselor. But that's all."
"Yeah. We know," Johnny said.
Vince took two triplicate forms out of his clipboard case, and handed one to each man. Roy and Johnny each spent ten minutes writing their statements out. They checked over their work, and signed and handed the paperwork to Vince at almost the same time.
"Thanks. Someone from the Sheriff's office will be in touch. You may also hear from Child Protective Services." Vince looked around. "Are the parents around?"
"The mom's with the girl. Dad's not in the picture," Roy said. "I think you should ask Dixie to let you know when the mom is free. It could be a while."
"All right." He shook his head. "There's some bastard out there who really has it coming to him."
"Yeah," said Roy. "I just hope he gets what he deserves."
Johnny didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I'm not sure I can imagine anything bad enough," he said.
The Handi-talkie came to life, beeping three times and jolting them both back into the here and now.
"Squad 51, what's your status?"
Roy looked at Johnny.
Johnny shrugged. "I could use a distraction right about now," he said.
"Squad 51, available."
~!~!~!~
Four weeks later
"John? Roy? Can I see you in my office for a minute?" Cap said, holding an envelope in his hand.
"Sure, Cap," Johnny said.
Roy and Johnny entered the office, and looked at each other quickly as Captain Stanley closed the door.
"What's going on?" Roy asked.
"That run you had a couple weeks ago, that really shook you guys up, but that you couldn't talk about, because there was going to be an investigation?" Cap handed Johnny the letter. "I think this is probably about that run."
Cap quietly stepped out of the office, to let Roy and Johnny read the letter in private, even though he had already read it, since it was in his box with a note from B shift saying that it wasn't for them.
The name above the return address was familiar. Mrs. Grace L. Hogan.
Roy read over Johnny's shoulder, not able to wait his turn.
Dear Station 51 Paramedics,
I'm very sorry I can't remember your names. I don't think they ever sank in completely. But I wanted to write you, first of all to thank you, and second of all to let you know the rest of Miranda's story.
Miranda gave birth to a healthy-appearing baby girl about four hours after you brought us to the hospital. She didn't understand what was happening to her at all. They gave her something they said they don't use much anymore, that helped with the pain but they said would also make her not remember as much. It was wretched, but Miranda doesn't remember anything about what happened at the hospital. It's just as well, because she really didn't understand at all. She is doing well, but is staying home for the rest of the school year. The school district is providing her with an in-home tutor for the remainder of the year, and possibly longer.
After some consideration, I decided to raise the baby. I named her Tina, which will be easy for her to pronounce if she has speech problems like Miranda does, but not also not babyish. She will be the second child I was never able to have. If she is "normal," I'll feel blessed. If not, I'll love her just as much as I love Miranda.
Peter Albertson, an aide at Miranda's school, is in custody in lieu of $100,000 bail. I don't need to explain why, I don't think.
Thank you for your incredibly compassionate care for Miranda, and for me. Miranda doesn't know how to appreciate it, but I do.
Sincerely,
Grace Hogan
Neither Johnny nor Roy could say anything at first. Cap didn't ask them anything
"I guess that's a happy ending," Roy said.
"About as happy as it could be. What a lady," Johnny said.
"Yeah."
TBC
A/N: Depending on the study you look at, between 25-85% of people with developmental disabilities experience sexual abuse at some time during their lifetimes.