Mudslide

These good fellows don't belong to me, but I promise when I'm done to pick um up, dust um off, and with a kiss on the cheek, return them safely home.

When despair for the world grows in me... I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief... For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. ~Wendell Berry, "The Peace of Wild Things," 1968

CHAPTER 6


His coughing was worse, and the rough rattle in his chest was ominous. It restricted his deep breathing, confining him to shallow breaths—burning, painful breaths. The sun was high in the sky, and he knew the station would now be in full panic mode. Cap would notify the Chief of his disappearance, and they would gather around the table to discuss where to look as soon as the shift was over. Jo would be frantic, something he never wanted to envision her going through. He hoped she wouldn't tell the kids yet. In this situation, they just seemed too young to deal with something so complex. How do you tell young children that their lives are forever changed?

"Stop it, Ray. I'm not dead yet," he grumbled at the feathered friend. "Still time."

His body inventory was changing now. Both legs were numb, he hoped, from the restricted movement and not something worse. There was no more external bleeding from the rod, though the wound was painful, infection being the most likely cause. Otherwise, his abdomen had remained mostly stable. It was sore and didn't like to be pressed on, but it hadn't gotten worse. If there was internal bleeding, it was going to be a slow death.

What he needed most was water. Water was life; the car's shade and the mud's coolness wouldn't protect him from dehydration. Looking up at the brewing clouds, he could only hope.

"Rain soon," he told Ray. "No water today, and I won't last much longer."

The bird flew out the door, and Roy rested his eyes. He was alone for another day, but it could be the last day before being found. He wanted to think positively.

He was trying.


Johnny paced the dayroom, moving from the kitchen sink, passing the couch, around the table, and back again, then repeating. Everyone sat around the table, including Murphy, Roy's replacement. Every time Johnny even looked at him, he felt nauseated knowing who should be sitting in that seat.

"Johnny, is there any place else he might have gone?" The officer asked him.

He shook his head. "He had projects at home, and I know he had to pick up supplies. Other than that? I don't know." His fingers ran through his hair. "I just don't know."

Why didn't he know? Everyone was looking to him for answers. He. Didn't. Know.

Tommy was an officer the shift knew well. "We've gone to his house. It's locked up, and there is no evidence of a break-in. The car is gone, and the locked door points to him leaving on his own."

"Where are you, Roy?" Johnny muttered under his breath. He sat down heavily in a chair at the table.

"Do you know when his wife will be back tomorrow?"

Another shake. "No, the kids are out of school; it could be anytime, morning or night."

"Okay, just let us know if you hear anything."

The police were involved and doing all they could, leaving the crew feeling trapped and helpless to find their friend. The only respite had been a busy shift, which momentarily distracted him from thinking of Roy and her, if only for a few minutes at a time.

Returning to the phone, he picked it up and dialed the Rampart emergency desk. He checked with Dixie again and received another negative reply. Everyone was on alert, and still nothing.

The crew had already made plans, and they would be ready. It was a waiting game, and Johnny had no idea if Roy had the time to wait.


Staying awake was becoming more difficult, and his fever was draining him of energy. Naps were replaced with more extended periods of unconsciousness, and he was now feeling more disoriented upon waking.

Jenny's voice crept into his head. Those are cobweb's daddy, her little fingers ticking his head. His eyes teared up.

He heard Ray's feathers rustling behind his head; then something tapped his head.

"What are you doing back there?" Roy asked him, his body staying still.

Another tap, and Ray hopped to his side and up to his chest. Now Roy could see what the bird was carrying, and he smiled. His right hand moved slowly, but he reached up and took the small juice box Ray tapped his beak on.

"Look at you," Roy told him. "Smart."

He shook the little box, hearing a small slosh. "Do I trust you?" Most likely, it was trash, but he was desperate. Tipping it up, he let the few drops go into his mouth. "Apple."

Closing his eyes, he fought down the rising nausea. No, he willed his body. As the feeling receded, so did his energy. His breathing was more labored now, and he knew this night would be the hardest yet. His body had lasted beyond its limits by sheer will, and that will was exhausted.

His new friend waited beside him. "Last night, Ray," he whispered. "I've tried. So tired."

The bird ruffled his feathers and shifted his feet, but his focus stayed on Roy.

"Just whisper in someone's ear," he smiled slightly, his eyes heavy. "Tell them the secret. It's okay, I won't mind."


Hank looked at the map. "There've been no reports from the highway patrol matching his car. We've got a lot of area to cover, and we're checking all his possible stops."

Marco frowned. "So, we just drive around and hope we see him?"

Hank understood the frustration. "The police know he's missing, but we can take our time and be diligent about it. Once Joanne is home, we can possibly get some more insight into where else he could have gone. Until then, yes, he's a needle in a haystack." He pulled out his personal handy talkies from his truck. "We need to be organized and have a way to keep in contact."

"I'll call Joanne hourly to catch her as soon as she is home," Johnny added.

"Just remember to go easy telling her, John. We've had time to prepare, but this is coming out of left field for her."

He nodded, dreading sharing the news they had lived with for twenty-four hours.

Hank approached Johnny. "We'll find him and bring him home."

The sentiment was kind, but the implication was much heavier.

After the brief meeting in the parking lot, the men pulled into the main road, knowing what to do. Chet followed Johnny to his apartment to leave his van and climbed into the Rover.

"Let's start down the list," Johnny told him. He passed him a map with the sudden realization that he usually sat in the passenger seat, giving Roy directions, and another wave of dread went through him.

"She's going to be so upset," Chet said sadly.

"She is." He let out a sigh. "So, let's find him first."

Following the list of locations, Johnny and Chet made their first stop at the dry cleaners. Both men knew the owners, Mr. and Mrs. King. The older woman smiled as he entered.

"Johnny, how are you? You have uniforms for us today?"

"Not today. I was checking to see if Roy picked his up this weekend?"

She pulled out a little file folder and sifted through the receipts. "No, he's not picked them up yet."

"Okay, thank you, Mrs. King."

Johnny climbed into the driver's seat. "Well, one place he didn't get to."

"What if he used a credit card? We could see where he went."

It was actually a very good suggestion. However, he knew Roy and the man preferred cash most of the time. Perhaps Joanne could ask about this if there was a more significant purchase. They followed the list of possible stops that carried the items he would need in shops closest to their house—each time, they came up empty to all except one. The hardware store by the house confirmed a delivery order. One place he did make it too, and not enough to be helpful. Either they knew him and hadn't seen him, or he was just another face in the crowd they couldn't remember.

"I need to call the house again."

Hello?

"Joanne?"

She laughed. Who else would be answering the phone, Johnny? Roy's not home yet.

"Joanne, have you listened to any of the messages on the machine?"

She hesitated slightly. No, we just walked in the door about fifteen minutes ago. Why?

"I don't want to scare you or anything, but have you talked to Roy since you left?"

No. Johnny, what's going on?

"He didn't show up at work yesterday, and no one has been able to reach him." He heard the phone drop onto the table, and she ran up the stairs. He took a deep breath and released it. When the phone jiggled again, he spoke to her. "Joanne?"

Oh, God, Johnny, where is he? What happened?

"I don't know. The station is out searching today, and we've already notified the police. Everyone's looking."

Okay. She was almost in tears. What do I do? How can I help? Johnny?

He looked over to Chet, confirming how she was handling it. "I need you to stay home, okay? Someone needs to be there in case he calls. He had some projects for the weekend. Do you see any supplies? We're trying to figure out if he was doing errands."

"Uh, let me check the garage." Her voice was shaking.

It took a minute, but she returned to the phone. "Johnny, I don't see anything in the garage or on the back porch."

"Okay, I know he doesn't use his credit card much, but can you call the bank and see if he's used it since Friday?"

Friday? I thought you were with him some of the weekend.

The guilt hit hard. "No, I ended up being out of town, and he was going to work around the house."

Okay, okay. I can call right now.

"We're checking all the supply stores by the house. Is there anywhere he would go? That he maybe likes better?"

Chet wrote down the names of places he might shop at if his regular locations didn't have what he needed.

"Last thing, Joanne. Call the police department and let them know you are home. They'll send someone out to fill an official missing person's report, okay?"

He could hear her softly crying on the other end.

"We'll find him, Joanne."

She sobbed. Okay, she managed to get out before hanging up the phone.

Before leaving the phone booth, Johnny pulled out the list of phone numbers, rechecked the other local emergency rooms, and checked in with the police department. After making a few more runs, Johnny pulled into a nearby diner and parked. Sitting at one of the outside tables, the rest of the crew was waiting. Hank already had the big map spread out showing all the places they had checked. When Johnny added theirs, they felt unsure where to go from there.

After making the next call to Joanne, he returned with a couple more locations where Roy often shopped for supplies. Divide and conquer was the plan, and after grabbing food for the road, they split again to check out the new locations.

Finishing up at the gardening store, Johnny radioed Hank. They now knew two of his stops and confirmed the time of day he was there.

"He did all this on Friday," Chet said. "But he never made it home."

"Friday," Johnny repeated the word. "Three days. Where did he go?"

Of course, Chet knew the man didn't expect an answer. Still, he shook his head.

"Maybe we should check the beach?" He was more asking himself, not his passenger.

"The beach? Which beach?" Chet asked, puzzled.

Hundreds of miles of beaches line the LA coast. Looking for him there was ridiculous. Yet somehow, he felt drawn there. Katie. He shook his head hard and cranked the Rover.

"I only know of one other place to check."

He radioed and updated Hank. "Joanne said he sometimes goes to the little diner out 101. I'm heading there. We can grab something to eat and talk to the workers. Maybe Roy mentioned where he was heading next." He gave him the name and directions.

"We'll finish up here and head your way," Hank told him.

Chet looked down at the sandwich sitting in the seat. Johnny hadn't even touched lunch.

The drive up the coastal highway was mostly quiet. Neither man had a lot to say as the heavy burden weighed them down.

"I forget how pretty it is up here," Chet said quietly, looking out the window at the ocean. "How far?"

"Not far. Roy comes up here for lunch when he's on the north end of town." He smiled to himself. "I think he likes the peace and quiet of the drive." Looking ahead he pointed. "That's it."

The building was unassuming, with drab brown and grey colors blending in with the rocky coast. Long stilted legs were driven into the cliffside, supporting an outside patio that overlooked the rocky shore far below. They were a little surprised to find the gravel parking area packed, choosing to pull into the reserve parking just across the road.

Johnny and Chet found open seats at the counter and looked at the menu. Johnny was more interested in the waitress than anything the menu held. She might have answers for them.

"What can I get you, boys?"

"Something to go," Johnny told her. "I'll take the house burger and fries."

"Same for me, extra onion," Chet added.

Johnny rolled his eyes. He then looked at the older woman. "Hey, we're in the area looking for a missing friend. He's about six foot, with brown hair and blue eyes. He's a firefighter and might have been here over the weekend grabbing lunch. Name's Roy. Do you remember him?"

The older woman smiled. "Of course, I remember Roy. He's missing, you say?" Her expression changed to worry. "Sweetheart of a fella comes here fairly frequently."

"He was here? Do you remember when?"

She nodded. "He was. It was just after lunch. He ordered to go; he said he was doing errands for the little wife. I remember he looked tired."

"What day?" Chet asked.

"Oh, it was Friday; I remember Friday."

Johnny thought back to the utterly exhausting shift they had ended that morning. "Yeah, we had a busy day at work. Did he happen to say where he might be headed?"

She shook her head. "No, just that he had a busy weekend of home chores planned. He mentioned having all the supplies to build a garden for his wife. Isn't that the sweetest?"

Johnny felt defeated. They were no closer than the police to knowing where the man he called his brother had gone. "Okay, thanks anyway."

She rested her hand on his. "I pray you find him, son. He's a good man, and I hope he's all right."

"Thank you, Ma'me."

"Well, this was unhelpful," Chet grumbled.

"It sounds like this was his last stop before disappearing. He has to be close, Chet."

"Maybe he took a different route."

They saw an older man wearing a dirty white apron, holding a spatula.

"What?" Johnny asked.

The cook shrugged. "Maybe he took a different way. We had a big mudslide about two miles down the road on Friday. It was shut down until yesterday morning."

Johnny felt his heart race. "A mudslide?"

"Yep. Road was a mess with rocks and boulders."

Chet was on his feet. "How far?"

He pointed back to town. "Right about two miles back towards LA."

Johnny threw cash on the counter, and both men were out the door in seconds.

"Keep an eye out for Cap; they should be close."

Johnny clocked the two miles on his odometer while both men scanned the roadway, looking for the tell-tell debris of a recent slide.

"THERE!" Chet called out, his adrenaline now at peak.

Johnny pulled along the dirt path beside the uphill slope, ensuring he was clear of the previous rockslide area. Before they could exit the car, they spotted Hank's truck coming down the road. Johnny blared the horn and flashed his lights, getting their attention. Hank pulled over in front of the Rover as the two men hopped out of the car. Once everyone was gathered, they updated on what they had found out, and this was the next place to search.

"You think he got caught in a slide?" Mike asked with concern.

"It's a possibility, Mike, and we have nothing else to go on. It's worth the look," Johnny told him. Something in his gut told him Roy was here, somewhere.

Looking for traffic, the crew quickly crossed the road to the edge overlooking the ocean. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and the glare was frustrating.

"See anything, Chet?"

He shook his head.

"He's here, I know he is."

"Johnny, if he's down there..."

The man was shaking his head. "Don't. We're going to find him."

"Marco, you two head up towards the diner. Watch for anything reflective in the sun," Hank directed them.

"ROY!" Johnny kept calling out, but the waves below drowned out anything reaching that far.

"What the..." Chet complained as a bird flew so close he almost hit him. "Go away," he complained, waving his arms.

"Chet, will you leave the bird alone and look," Johnny told him, annoyed.

The silky black raven sat on a small boulder, watching the men. Johnny would have been amused at its curiosity if not for the panic coursing through his body. As they inched down the road, the crow followed, flying from rock to small tree, and back to rocks.

"ROY!" The voices called out over and over.

CROAK, the crow began to mimic them. Johnny was getting annoyed.

"ROY!"

CROAK, it kept repeating.

"Not funny! Go away!" Chet ran towards it, causing the bird to fly to the next large rock.

CROAK, it called louder.

Johnny looked back up the road and saw how far they'd come. "Let's head back towards Cap. I don't want to get too far from the slide area."

However, when they turned in the other direction, the bird flew right in front of their faces, causing them to stop and shoo it away.

"Get out of here, you menace," Chet barked at it.

Every time they tried to walk; the bird seemed to assault them. The more they tried to rid themselves of the raven, the more it bothered them.

Finally, Johnny stopped and watched it, hands on his hips and exasperated. "You know, my people believe ravens and crows can communicate."

Chet scoffed. "Well, he's communicating how much of a pain in the ass he is."

The bird hopped off the nearby rock and sat in front of Johnny, watching him. The medic knelt. "Trying to tell us something, fella?"

The bird turned and started hopping down the road away from the diner. Johnny stood up, looked at Chet, and shrugged. He decided to follow the little thing.

"Johnny, you're kidding, right?"

Johnny turned around. "Look, we have nothing to go on, and Chet, I have a bad feeling here. We're running out of time."

"And you think a bird can help?"

"Five minutes, man. Give me five minutes. If there's nothing, we'll turn back."

Chet quietly followed, not one to argue with the medic's gut feeling regarding Roy's safety.

Whenever it turned to check on them, Johnny would gently encourage it to keep going. After about five minutes, just past where they had turned back, the bird stopped and started squawking again.

"Here?" Johnny asked as he leaned over the edge, seeing nothing recognizable. "Show me," he encouraged it. "Go on."

The bird floated down the hillside, came to rest on a pile of dirt near the bottom, and then disappeared.

Johnny was frustrated. "So much for that. Okay, let's head back to Cap."

"Johnny, look!" Chet pointed down the cliff.

It was flying back up with something in its mouth. Johnny's heart was racing.

"Come on, fella, come back."

Landing on a large rock, it tossed the rag for Johnny to pick up. His heart almost stopped at the blood-covered towel. "Chet."

"I can't see anything, though," he replied.

Johnny picked up the talkie. "Cap, need you down this way. Hurry."

The bird was sitting and waiting on them, pecking at the mud beneath his feet. Inching closer, it pecked at his boot.

"Okay, buddy, okay. I hear you."

He tucked the radio into his waistband and started climbing over the edge, initially sitting on his rear to gauge the slope's incline.

"Where do you think you're going?" Chet said with shock. "Cap's going to kill you."

"I'll be okay. I can see a lot of foot and hand holds down here." He looked back at the lineman. "I have to check it out, Chet. I have to know."

The man nodded, knowing nothing was going to stop the man. "Be careful."

The way was treacherous, with loose rock and dirt crumbling beneath his hands and feet. He stayed on his rump most of the way, occasionally shifting to a wall-hugging position to avoid a worse obstacle. When he got about halfway down, he could hear a sound, a clanking noise. Below, the bird had a rock in its mouth and was tapping on something metal. His feet started moving faster.

The safest path was actually an angle, putting him further down the beach from the car placement. But, the closer he got, the easier it was to see a shape resembling a car, now hiding under the mudslide, completely encased and utterly hidden from sight. Judging the placement, he decided the safest option was to land on the beach and head to the car. From there, he could climb back up a few feet, knowing he wasn't putting any weight on the vehicle. Last thing he needed now was to cause the car to fall further. When his feet hit the beach, he looked back up. It was a miracle it didn't go all the way down. Those few feet had saved the driver from drowning in the high tide.

"Roy?" He called out, not getting an answer, and the pit in his stomach contracted. Pulling out the radio, he called up. "He's here!"

"Is he okay?" Chet called back.

"Almost to him." That was all Johnny could say as he approached the quiet vehicle, seeing the head of hair resting on the window frame. "ROY!" There was no response, no movement, but Johnny refused to believe he was too late.

"ROY!"

"Johnny, what's going on." This time, it was Hank.

There was no stopping now; he had to know. Was his friend, his brother, gone? A part of him knew he couldn't handle another loss right now, especially this one. Getting close to the window, he leaned down and looked inside. Roy was lying on his back, the car was full of mud, and his heart sank when he saw the man was impaled. He knew there was no way he could have survived until he saw the other bloody towels.

"Roy, come on, buddy, I'm here." Reaching for a carotid pulse, the skin was cold, and the medic shivered, not with cold, but fear.

"Johnny!" the radio blasted.

"Please, brother, don't do this to me."

Come on, come on, come on, be there…

His fingers found their place, and closing his eyes, he focused on finding a pulse. The small gasp he released confirmed the weak and thready pulse, but a heartbeat was there. Grabbing the radio, he looked up the hill, barely seeing the awaiting men.

"Cap, he's alive, but it's bad. We need climbing gear, trauma kit, a skill saw. Gonna have to cut him out of here." His body and voice were shaking. "Need a chopper; he won't be able to handle a climb up."

Hanks's answer was pensive; the stress level was palpable. "Chris is on the way to the diner to call for help. What can we send you right now?"

Johnny looked at Roy and the position of the car. "I can't move him, Cap; he's hurt too bad. He's been impaled with some rod, and I don't know if he can be moved yet. He's covered in mud, it's thick and hardened, so I can't even assess him for other injuries." He paused, remembering Hank asked him a question. "Uh, a coat, blanket, anything to warm him up, he's really cold."

"Is he responsive?"

"No."

The most accessible access was through the front door. He tried pulling on the door, finding it bent and damaged, showing no signs of budging.

"Cap, I think I have a crowbar in the back seat."

"10-4."

Marco and Mike ran back to the cars to grab anything they could possibly use. Johnny's Rover even had a small first aid kit and a sleeping bag. They grabbed everything.

"I'll take it down," Chet volunteered.

"Careful and take your time. We don't need another rescue right now," Hank told him.

Johnny watched Chet work his way down the cliffside, sliding more than he desired, pointing to the side where he landed, for guidance. After reaching the beach, he jogged over to Johnny, and pulled the backpack off his shoulders.

"That thing secure?" Chet asked, unsure of the vehicle's stability.

The affirmative nod encouraged Chet to climb the few rocks to reach the back door. "How's he doing?" Nothing prepared him for what he saw. Roy didn't look real, much less alive. "God."

Johnny was already digging through the supply bag. The crowbar came out first, and he passed it over to Chet. "Here, we need to open this door so I can access him."

It took several attempts before the door relinquished its hold.

"How are we going to get him out of this?" he asked, knocking on the hardened mud encasing Roy.

Shaking his head, Johnny slid into the car slowly, feeling for any movement indicating a lack of stability, but the car held its position firmly. At least they had one thing going for them. Ducking under the front seats, he had a narrow window to reach his friend.

"Roy," he called as he gave him a strong sternal rub.

There was no response.

"I can't even reach his arm and leg over here," he told Chet, indicating the left side packed in mud. "Right leg, broken tib, fib, maybe ankle." He kept palpating. "Broken ribs." When he reached the pole, he better could see what was around it.

"What the hell?"

"What?" Chet asked.

"This, it's completely packed in mud." He pulled off as much of the dried material as he could, inspecting the skin around the wound, and found it red and inflamed, indicating an infection was already setting in. A small amount of blood oozed from it. He glanced over at the bloody towels sat in a pile beside him. He was conscious at some point. Looks like he was trying to stop the bleeding, then used mud to seal the wound."

"Pretty smart," Chet replied. "He probably kept him from bleeding out."

Johnny agreed, but the overall picture was an extensive trauma patient. "He's cold too; heart rate is low."

"I've got a blanket and a sleeping bag," Chet offered.

Shaking his head, "no," his brain was spinning. Scooting back out of the car, he found himself face-to-face with the raven waiting on a large rock beside him.

"You did good, fella, thank you."

The bird hopped into the car, standing on Roy's chest.

"Hey now," Chet yelled at him. "Stop, don't hurt him."

Johnny put a hand out. "It's okay. I have a feeling he's been here for a while."

The raven hopped to Roy's leg and spat water from his beak onto the mud.

Johnny nodded. "Yes."

Chet was confused. "What?"

He should have already been doing this; what was wrong with him? "Okay, we've got to get this mud moved out, which means getting the inside of the car wet again." Reaching in, he pulled out a couple of plastic bins that had spilled from a shopping bag. "Let's get started."

Chet stood on the ground, filled the bins with water, and passed them to Johnny. Gently, he poured the cold ocean water all around Roy's sides, trying to prevent soaking his entire body and further lowering his temperature. He knew the man was already hypotensive and most likely severely acidotic. As the dry mud became saturated, it started to soften and loosen up, allowing Johnny to scoop it out of the car.

"Johnny?"

Looking up, he saw Mike standing beside them, in shock at the scene. "Mike, let's get him out of here."

The engineer quietly nodded but didn't move.

Johnny grabbed his leg. "Mike. He's alive. Let's get him home."

This time, the nod was stronger, and he climbed back down to the sand to help the water move faster.

"We're running out of time, Johnny," Chet called out, as the water was now above his ankles.

"We'll be okay. They can't be much longer."

They focused on clearing the car as much as possible around his body. Mike watched a raven hop along the rocks, moving to the top or bottom of the car, watching them work. Curious.

It took another twenty minutes before they saw the rescue team moving down the mountainside in full gear, carrying a stoke stocked with supplies.

"Casey," Johnny greeted the one face he recognized. Then, with sadness, "It's Roy."

The young man's face fell. "What's our next move?"

"We've got him loosened up from the packed mud. We need to stabilize the fractures before moving him any." He started showing Casey the litany of injuries. "Fractured left shoulder, arm, right leg. I'll splint back here if you can get the collar on him and a couple of IVs started."

"You got it." Casey put the radio box between them. "Vitals?"

"Last pulse was 52, respirations slow, around 10."

With a nod, Casey pulled out the BP cuff and worked on a new set of vitals.

Johnny picked up the microphone. "Rampart, this is Squad 11. Do you read?"

"Read you 11, go ahead."

Johnny was grateful to hear that Kel Brackett was on duty in the ER.

"Rampart, we have a male, aged 30, a victim of an auto accident with rollover down approximately a 200-foot fall."

At Rampart Medical Center, Kel shot a look over to Dixie.

"Patient is unresponsive. HR," he looked over to Casey, who passed a paper over. "HR is 50 and falling, respirations are 8, BP is 60 over 42. Patient is hypothermic. Fractured left shoulder and lower arm, fractured right leg, tib fib. Patient has a large head laceration with bruising. Rampart, he is currently impaled on a metal rod, exiting the right lower abdominal quadrant."

Brackett was already impatient before the critical patient had even arrived. "11, start two IVs, run wide open, one normal saline, one D5 LR. Give 1 unit of plasmanate. Repeat a pressure following the bolus. I don't want to fluid overload him. Can you send a strip?"

"Two IVs, normal saline and D5LR, plasmanate. Affirmative on the strip, hooking him up now." Johnny took a steady breath. "Rampart. It's Roy."

The gasp from Dixie was audible on the radio. "10-4, Johnny. Get him here as fast as you can."

"Air transport is on the way. He's still trapped in the car, working on extrication now."

"Understood, 11. Before moving him, place an esophageal airway with ventilation."

"Airway and ventilation, 10-4."

With that, the radio went silent. The ER team had to prepare for the critical trauma of one close to their hearts, while the on-scene team did everything as fast as possible to move him out.

"I'll place the airway," Casey told him.

Johnny agreed. It was taking all he had to keep it together, and inserting an airway into his friend was something he could let go of.

"Johnny?"

He looked up to see someone ready with the skill saw. Nodding, he coordinated with Casey to move Roy enough to allow the saw behind him. The room to shift him was small, and all hands that were helping could feel his body slide up the bar slightly. Johnny was just thankful the man was unconscious; the pain of moving him would have been excruciating. Roy was released from his link with the vehicle with a quick cut. The second cut shortened the bar on the upper abdomen, allowing the rescuers easier movement to remove him from the car.

Now sliding the backboard behind him, the medics secured him and ensured he was immobile. Looking down at Chet, the tide was rising, now up to his knees, as the sun was setting behind the water.

"I want to move him out of here and to the stokes. His vitals are unstable, and we may need full access to him."

They all understood what that meant. At any point Roy could go into full arrest. He was tittering between life and death. The men moved him out of the car and directly into the stokes with coordinated movements. This allowed him to stay on the rocks and above the water, allowing better visualization. Within minutes, they all looked up to see the rescue helicopter approaching them.

By now, Mike and Chet held onto rocks as the waves hit them at hip level. Sensing the increasing danger, both men began climbing up for secure ground. Mike stood up and waited for the hook to get close enough to grab with a station 11 crew keeping him steady. The wind from the chopper blades was strong as the men held onto their precarious spots, ducking low when possible. When low enough, Mike grabbed the large clamp and secured it to the stokes. With a thumbs up, Roy was slowly lifted and moved into the chopper.

"You go with him," Casey told Johnny.

Johnny nodded his unspoken gratitude. "Chet, Cap needs to call Joanne."

Quietly, Chet nodded. Grateful it wasn't a phone call he had to make.

Johnny quickly secured his own harness and rose to join Roy when they were ready. Below him, the worried and troubled faces watched them leave before making the ascent back to the road. He quickly found his place inside the chopper, buckled up, and secured his headset. Across from him was a medic working on a new set of vital signs. When the monitor alarmed, Johnny's worst fear had come.

"Mike," Chet said, pointing up as the helicopter shifted North.

They could see someone doing chest compressions.

"Come on, let's get out of here. Johnny's going to need us."

Johnny continued compressions as the flight medic relayed the information and pushed the meds. With two cardio converts, Roy was back in sinus bradycardia.

"ETA eleven minutes," the medic called to him.

Rampart was the closest Trauma Center to them. Still, eleven minutes felt like a lifetime. Roy's vitals were unstable, and he was throwing arrhythmias, most likely due to hypothermia. Johnny knew the trauma was extensive, and the bruising to his chest could indicate numerous complications. Looking down at his brother, guilt flooded through him, so intense that he felt nauseous. He should have been there this weekend, helping Roy like he promised, not running off to chase bikinis. Then he would have known Friday something was wrong, not three days later. Realizing Roy had been conscious was almost worse. How long had he suffered in pain and the cold? How many times did he call out for no one to hear him? The thought broke him.

"Coming in," the medic called out.

Below them, the helipad was coming closer, and the small figures waiting would be part of Roy's work family; emotions would be running high. When the monitor alarmed again, Roy was in a run of v-tach. Johnny reached for a pulse.

"No pulse." He started compressions again immediately.

He couldn't look Dixie in the eye. Her red eyes matched the pain in his heart. They pushed some drugs before moving him out, regaining a better rhythm once again. In the elevator, Johnny's report was mechanical. Doing the job, even if his clothes, let them know immediately he was off duty. Now wasn't the time for questions. There was too much work to do. Whisked into Trauma one, he was immediately surrounded by a diverse medical team of doctors, nurses and respiratory therapy help. Joe Early replaced his airway, Kel was busy doing a head to toe exam, and Dixie started getting new IV fluids up and running. Johnny just backed against the wall and watched. Every fiber of his being was exhausted, and he knew the worst may not have happened yet.

"Johnny, did he ever regain consciousness?"

"Johnny?"

He focused on Kel. "Uh, no doc. He was after the wreck, though. I found dishtowels he used for the bleeding."

His eyes found Dixie next, swirling around his brother, her eyes red and her face revealing all. His heart wasn't sure how much more it could take.

A nurse came in and whispered to Dixie, her eyes going straight to Johnny. When she came over, he immediately bristled at having to leave.

"Johnny, Joanne's here."

She was at the desk crying, melting into Johnny's arms when she got a peek of the room activity before the door closed. That was were he wanted to be, but Joanne needed him right now, and Roy wouldn't want her to be alone.

"Let's go to the lounge," he told her gently. He wanted to move out of the hallway, away from the staring eyes and the yelling coming from the room.

She didn't want to move, but with encouragement, Johnny slowly got her to the nurse's lounge and resting on the couch.

"Johnny, what happened?" She sobbed.

"We found the car out by the dinner. It looks like a landslide knocked him off the road."

"Oh, God," she sobbed in his arms.

"Joanne, listen to me. He's alive, okay. He's fighting." He was working to convince himself as much as her.

"He looked..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

He nodded slowly. "It's bad. I won't lie to you. But he's strong, and broken bones can heal."

"Broken?"

Yes, broken. His brother was a broken human in so many ways. "His arm and his leg were broken."

Going into details wasn't the plan at this point. It would just devastate her even more. Quietly he sat with her, holding her, feeling her heaving breaths slow down. He needed to check on Roy.

Gently pushing her back, he made eye contact with her. "Do you think you'll be okay while I check on him?"

Quickly, she nodded. "Go be with him. I don't want him to be alone."

As he approached the door, he stepped inside with trepidation. It was chaos—controlled chaos in medical terms. Nurses hustled to keep supplies stocked and assist the four doctors caring for the patient. He found Brackett, Early, and someone he didn't recognize standing at the X-ray board.

"Doc?"

"Johnny," Kel acknowledged him, as did Joe Early.

The third doctor snapped at him. "Visitors are not allowed."

Johnny was ready to fight. Then Kel spoke up.

"This is John Gage, the paramedic who found and took care of him in the field. He's also family."

That mildly appeased the short, stocky man.

Glancing back, he could see that Roy was now intubated and had multiple IV lines going, including a central line being placed into his chest by the fourth doctor. The monitor was alarming constantly for low blood pressure and low heart rate.

"I agree, Kel. A cardiac contusion is most likely, but tamponade can't be ruled out." His name tag read Dr. Carson, Cardiology.

Johnny's heart sank. Wasn't there enough going on without worrying about his heart, too?

"I still think we need to wait. He won't survive much longer unless we deal with his abdomen first," Kel said.

"Skull films should be back before you're in the OR," Early interjected. "I don't think there's a skull fracture, but concussion at the very least."

"Kel?" Dixie had stepped up. Her mood was somber. "They're ready in the OR for him."

He nodded. Looking over at Johnny, he let out a sigh. "We'll get the bar out first, see how much internal damage there is. He's warming up slowly, but that also means the bleeding is worsening. Ortho is meeting us there; they'll get his shoulder and leg cast done. My biggest concern will then be the wound infection and his lungs."

"Lungs?"

Kel pointed at the X-ray. "What do you see?"

Johnny studied the chest film. "Just white."

"All that white is water, mud, blood, pneumonia, or all the above. The chest tube will go in when we get to the OR." He looked towards the door as they were moving Roy out. He released a deep breath, the weight of his words heavy. "You need to prepare Joanne."

Johnny's eyes watered again, softly shaking his head. "I don't know how."

"She needs to be prepared. There's a strong possibility he won't make it out of the OR."