"One . . . two . . . three! One . . . two . . . aw, damn!"
Roy DeSoto stopped in front of the locker-room door and listened in wonder.
"One . . . two . . . " Splat! "One . . . two . . . three! One . . . two . . . whoa!!" Crash!
Roy decided that the paramedic in him, still off-duty for another 20 minutes, should better check what was going on before someone seriously got hurt. He opened the door and shook his head in silent desperation with an unmistakable why-me look in his eyes.
The bench in the locker-room lay on its side, and for some reason his partner had managed to get trapped underneath. With one more shake of his head, Roy approached the grounded paramedic.
"I'm not sure I want to know what happened. Anyway, are you okay, Johnny?"
From his rather awkward position on the ground John Gage worked hard to plaster a crooked grin to his face. "Oh hi, Roy. How were your days off?"
"Great, just great. Don't change the topic." I'm gonna hate myself for asking this but . . . "What happened, Junior?"
"I'll be glad to tell you, but could you please . . . ?"
Sometimes Roy had the feeling that his eight-year-old son got himself into less trouble than his junior partner. He took a closer look at the measure of his friend's entrapment, and saw that Johnny's left knee was held down by the wooden seat of the bench.
After a few moments the bench was back where it belonged and Johnny faster on his feet than Roy could tell him to be careful. The younger man had almost reached the door when DeSoto caught him by the arm.
"Hold it!"
"What?"
"I'd like to make sure your knee is still in one piece after that stunt."
"What stunt?" Johnny asked innocently.
"The stunt you pulled before the bench toppled."
"Roy, I'm fine, I …"
"Sit down and let me take a look."
Something in Roy's voice told Johnny that he wouldn't accept 'no' for an answer. With a defeated sigh he complied.
"Man, sometimes you're worse than Brackett."
After a few minutes of poking and prodding DeSoto had satisfied himself that his partner's knee had, indeed, not suffered more than a little bruise.
"So, how did you end up down there, anyway?"
The sulking expression on Johnny's face was replaced by a full-scale grin, his mood improving by the second.
"I'm juggling!" Gage proudly declared.
"You WHAT??"
"I'm juggling!" Johnny repeated, still grinning like a pre-schooler in a sweets shop.
"You are juggling," Roy said, sounding as if he had not quite comprehended the meaning of the words.
Seeing the nonplussed look in his partner's eyes, Johnny stepped around the bench and picked up two bean-bags. Each ball in one hand, he first threw the right one into the air, then the left, exchanging them in midair, and catching them deftly. While a proud smile formed on his face, a voice from the door called:
"Ten minutes till roll –call, guys. Oh, Gage, juggling with two balls! Neat achievement. Most of us have passed that stage when we were five!"
"Shut up, Chet! Go and play in the freeway or something."
"Aren't we grumpy today! Oh, the Phantom will have lots of ammunition in a little while…" With a sneer and a mean gleam in his eye Chet Kelly left the room.
Roy decided to follow him out, knowing all too well that Johnny would talk about nothing else than juggling in this shift. A few minutes of peace and quiet, along with a cup of coffee was just what he needed to put up with the day. It was only then that he realized that he still wore his civvies. Oh, boy . . .
*****
"Squad 51, Engine 51, Engine 16. Structure fire, 1837 Franklin Avenue. 1-8-3-7 Franklin Avenue. Time out: 11.50."
While the rest of the crew rushed to the vehicles, Captain Stanley acknowledged and handed Roy the call slip.
They arrived at the scene , finding a fully involved factory building. Stanley immediately sized the situation. "Dispatch, this is Engine 51. We need a ladder truck at this location."
"10-4, 51."
A man about 55 years old approached the firemen. "Thank God you're here! I think the whole building is ablaze!"
"What are you producing, sir? Any chemicals involved?"
"No, no chemicals. There's mostly wood. We cut it and paint it."
"You paint it?" Stanley affirmed with an inner groan.
When the man nodded and assured that nothing else but machines, wood and paints were involved, Captain Shaffer from 16's asked, "Are all of your men out? Is anybody missing?"
The look on the man's face indicated that he hadn't checked, yet. He ran away and returned a few seconds later, a frantic expression on his face. "Luke Palmer is missing. He works in the cutting department in the eastern wing." He pointed to a heavily involved section of the factory. "Oh God, what if he . . . I should have checked earlier, I should have . . . It's all my fault!"
Stanley gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't panic, sir. We'll get him out. Roy! John! There's still a man in there, in the eastern section. Make it snappy, this doesn't look too stable. Chet, Marco, back them up. It's where they cut the wood, it'll burn like hell! Okay, go ahead. And be careful!"
"Got it, Cap!"
When Johnny and Roy entered the building they were almost instantly hit by a wall of thick smoke. Their vision was clouded to such an extent that they could hardly see each other. They pushed their way forward into the heat, dodging flames and crackling wood. The smoke got thicker, spreading through the air vents.
Roy and Johnny separated, DeSoto taking the left side, his partner searching on the right.
To Johnny everything seemed to look similar through the gray curtain of heavy smoke around him. At one time he thought he'd found the victim leaning against the wall, but as he came closer he realized that it was only a huge chunk of wood. He cursed under his breath and plowed on.
In the darkness, he overlooked a dark shape on the ground and suddenly he felt himself stumbling forward, hitting the floor with a thud.
Damn and blast! he thought, pushed himself to his feet. Turning around to find out what had tripped him, his anger quickly changed into a sigh of relief as he saw a leg sticking out from under a pile of wooden boards. Thank God, I've found him!
One by one he lifted the boards off of the victim and checked his vitals. The man still had a pulse, but he was hardly breathing. Without hesitation Johnny took off his helmet and removed his breathing mask, pressing it firmly over the victims face.
Lifting the man over his shoulder in a classic fireman's carry Gage made his way out of the building, every once in a while taking a gulp of oxygen, then retuning the mask to his patient.
He was almost out of the factory when he saw his partner approaching from the other side. He couldn't be sure, however. His eyes burned with the smoke and tears blurred his vision to a great extent.
Johnny continued towards the daylight outside. But where was the daylight? It seemed to move from the left to right and back again. He tried to get a sufficient percentage of oxygen into his lungs, but the smoke was just too intense. Just as he thought the dizziness would force him to his knees the burden on his shoulders was surprisingly gone. Gratefully, Johnny stumbled on, but suddenly his legs could no longer carry him.
A strong hand grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to his feet. He felt his arm being slung over someone's shoulder and fought to regain control aver his rubbery legs.
Just a few more yards . . . Just . . . a few . . . more . . .
*****
Roy DeSoto had come out empty-handed. He only hoped that his partner had been more successful in his search for the missing man. As he neared the spot where they had separated he thought he made out a dark shadow near the exit, carrying a limp form.
Johnny. And the victim. Roy's spontaneous relief deserted him as he saw his friend starting to sway on his feet. He ran over to him and lifted the man from Johnny's shoulders, duty warring with friendship as Gage sank to the ground next to him and Roy tried to decide his next step. Another firefighter reached them. Chet.
"Get Johnny out, Chet!"
Waiting for some kind of affirmation DeSoto hurried out of the building as he saw Chet's thumbs-up sign.
*****
Roy was just putting the man on his shoulders carefully to the ground, reaching for an O2-mask in the same motion, when he saw Chet more dragging that walking Johnny to the triage area. After checking in with Rampart and inserting the requested IV he once more took the victim's vitals. With a satisfied nod DeSoto took a look around him.
"Hey, Marco! Can you keep an eye on him, for a few minutes? I'm gonna check on Superman over there."
"No problem, Roy."
DeSoto turned to find his partner sitting on the bumper of the engine, his body shaken with harsh coughs. He took another oxygen mask and pressed it wordlessly over Johnny's nose and mouth. Anticipating Johnny's next move, though, he grabbed Gage's right arm before his partner could try to push it away.
The coughing subsided only marginally and Roy realized that the younger paramedic must have swallowed a whole lot more smoke that he tried to let on. With a push of his left hand Johnny finally managed to knock the mask aside.
"I'm fine, Roy. Keep that thing away!" He managed to push himself into a standing position. "See?" he said, "I'm okay. No need for a . . . "
Years of working with Johnny had enabled Roy to read the signs on his friend's face when his body was about to desert him. While for Johnny the world did a crazy, sickening spin, Roy managed to catch his lanky form before it hit the ground.
"No need for what?" he asked his unconscious partner. "A breathing mask? A stretcher? Sorry, Junior, I'm afraid you'll need both."
Chet had already sized up the situation and moved the biophone and drug box within Roy's reach.
"Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have another victim."
"Go ahead, 51." Brackett's voice drifted out of the phone.
"Rampart, second victim is an unconscious paramedic with a bad case of smoke inhalation. I started him on oxygen, vitals to follow. Stand by."
After a few moments Roy loosened the blood pressure cuff around Johnny's arm and took up the receiver again. "Rampart, pulse is 74, respirations are 12, BP's 105 over 70. Pupils are equal and reactive."
"51, administer IV, D5W, TKO, and keep him on O2. Keep an eye on the vitals and transport as soon as possible."
"10-4, Rampart. Our ETA will be about 15 minutes."
"Understood, 51. We'll be waiting."
The EMT's had wheeled over another gurney while Roy was putting the IV into Gage's right arm, and the paramedic was pushed into the waiting ambulance. Just as Roy was about to follow he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and was met by Captain Stanley's concerned eyes.
"Will he be okay, pal?"
"Don't worry, Cap. As far as I can tell the smoke only got to him. He'll be fine."
"All right, Marco or Chet will take the Squad in. See you later."
As the doors closed and the vehicle sped away, Johnny slowly opened his eyes. Weakly, he tried to push away the mask on his face, but his body succumbed into another coughing fit when he tried to say something.
"No, no, partner, leave that right where it is." Seeing the confused look in his friend's eyes when the latter regarded the needle in his arm, he added: "You'll be fine, Junior. You took in a lot of smoke back there. The IV's only a precaution. You know Brackett, always on the safe side."
An expression of defeated indifference started to pass over Johnny's face as he settled back. A few minutes later he tried to sit up again, panic in his eyes.
"R . . . Roy," he rasped, "The victim . . . " Another bout of coughing silenced him.
"Leave that mask on, Johnny." Roy reprimanded, resetting the breathing device and pushing his friend's shoulders down with gentle force. "He's fine, Junior. Right beside you with an even worse case of smoke inhalation and a few bumps and bruises. Now follow his example: lay back and relax, okay? Everything will be fine."
Roy's soothing voice usually worked magic with his patients, and his partner was no exception. After a few moments his breathing evened out and he was asleep before they reached the hospital.
*****
"Johnny! John, open your eyes!"
Voices worked their way through the darkness. Unconscious again? Can't remember hitting my head. Or having a house collapse on me. Or being hit by a car. Did I lose my helmet again? Cap's gonna have my head for that. Ugh, he can have it, hurts like hell…
"On my count: one, two, three!"
Suddenly John felt himself rapidly shifted sideways. A gentle hand shook his shoulder. "C'mon Junior, wake up, let the doc check you out."
Rampart. That figures. Please, don't let it be Morton, when I open my eyes, God, don't let me see Morton! …Thank goodness.
"That's it, hose-jockey! Look at me. Do you know where you are?"
"Rampart General, where else am I called hose-jockey?" Gage replied through the mask on his face.
Dr Brackett smiled down at the paramedic. "I hear you pulled that 'I'm-fine-stunt' again. Now, let's see just how fine you are, all right?"
An hour and a half later Brackett had performed any examination he deemed necessary, received the test results and evaluated the ordered chest x-ray.
When he opened the door to Exam 3 a replacement had been called in and Roy had already left for another call with his temporary partner.
"Well, Johnny, the x-ray is okay, but you took in a lot of smoke, and due to your respiratory history I want to keep you here tonight to rule out any downhill development in your lungs."
Johnny propped himself up on his elbows. "Oh, come on, Doc, I'm okay, there's really no need to keep me here, you …"
"I don't like the way your lungs sound, John, and I surely don't want to let you go now only to have you develop a nasty case of pneumonia. I'll keep you on the nasal O2 for the rest of the day, and tomorrow we'll see about getting you home. Barring any complications. Okay?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
"Thought so."
With a sympathetic smile Brackett left to make arrangements for a room, and a dejected paramedic sank back onto the exam table, just barely suppressing a coughing fit until the doctor was out of sight.
*****
Whistling happily, John Gage walked into the locker room a few days later. Doctor Brackett had sent him home the next day and written him off sick for two shifts.
Gage found his partner sitting in his locker and tying his shoes. "Mornin', mornin', mornin'!" he called, opening his locker and giving Smokey a good-morning-tab on the nose.
“I take it you enjoyed your days off," Roy said dryly.
"Sure did, man, sure did."
Johnny quickly dressed and the paramedics joined the other guys for roll call.
Captain Stanley approached his men in the engine bay and assigned the day's chores.
"Roy, Johnny, the squad needs a polish. Marco, bunk room, Chet, day room."
An almost inaudible sigh of relief could be heard. No one was sure, however, if it emanated from Chet's or John's mouth. For once the two men had avoided latrine duty.
"Mike, latrine duty. Sorry, buddy, it hits the best of us. It's my turn to cook. Okay men, let's get to work. Oh, and Gage. Glad to have you back, pal."
"So," Roy asked, cleaning the squad's windshield, "are you all right?"
"It was only smoke inhalation, Roy! I missed two shifts. Yes, I'm all right."
They continued polishing in silence. After a while Johnny stopped. In a flash he had disappeared into the locker room and returned with three bean bags.
"Take a look, Roy, at the Great Roderick, Master of Balls!"
And he started juggling. DeSoto's eyes bulged. He had anticipated Johnny pestering him for days on end about juggling, only to drop it just as fast after the first wave of enthusiasm had passed. It had happened often enough to Johnny's crazes of the week.
This time, however, Johnny neither seemed to drop his latest hobby, nor did he drop a single ball. With a "Ta Da!" Johnny caught the last ball and waited expectantly for some kind of reaction from his partner.
"That's . . . that's . . . Wow! You learned it pretty fast, didn't you?"
"Well, I did have some time to spend in the last few days…"
A frown suddenly wrinkled Roy's forehead. "Brackett surely told you 'not to overdo it' when he sent you home, didn't he?"
"Not exactly."
"Okay, then he insisted that you 'take it easy'."
The contrite look on Johnny's face provided the answer Roy had expected. "Johnny, Johnny, will you ever learn?"
"Hey, Johnny, Roy, come quick, we're on TV! They’re showing a feature about the factory fire!"
The paramedics rushed into the day room where Chet Kelly and Captain Stanley already stood in front of the television set.
"Why are they showing it now? It’s not as if it happened last night," Gage stated.
"It's a weekly magazine covering the local news. It's called 7 Days in 17 Minutes or something. Look, there's Johnny with the victim."
The men looked at their counterparts on television: Johnny stumbling, Roy relieving him off the victim and Chet helping Gage out of the smoke. The speaker commented on what looked like a well-rehearsed scene.
"The fire-department gained control over the fire after about two hours. In the process of rescuing a factory employee, one fireman sustained a bad case of smoke inhalation. Both were brought to Rampart General Hospital, and their conditions reported as stable."
While the words were spoken the camera zoomed in on Johnny sitting on the bumper, discussing with Roy, standing up and slowly keeling over.
"Neat fall, Gage! Sleeping on the job again?" Chet piped up, as the TV-Johnny was transferred onto a stretcher.
"Shut up, Chet!"
"What's up, John-Boy, it's really interesting to see all this with a little distance. Especially the part when…"
"Squad 51, child injured, California-Western-Pre-School, Abraham Lincoln Boulevard. Time out: 9.46."
Gage was only too happy to get out into the squad. It was bad enough collapsing like that, but it was most certainly even worse to have it captured on camera in such a close-up. "Man, I'll never live this down," Johnny mumbled as he closed the door.
"What did you say?"
"Never mind."
Reaching the school yard the paramedics were already met at the gate by a young woman. While they got their gear out of the compartments she approached them on the verge of tears. "Hurry, it's little Kathy. She fell off the swings!"
“How old is she, Miss?" Roy asked, as they followed her to the playground.
"I think she's six. All of a sudden she just let go off the ropes and crashed to the ground. God, she . . . she lay so still. She . . . she . . ."
The young teacher obviously lost whatever nerve she had kept up, now that help was there and she was no longer responsible. The tears which had only filled her eyes now spilled over ran down her cheeks.
Johnny gently took hold of her arm. "Calm down, Ma'am. Kathy will surely be fine. Don't worry, everything will work out all right." Gage turned on his famous charm, and one more time Roy witnessed how that smile worked magic.
By the time they reached the swings little Kathy had audibly regained consciousness, for loud whimpers could be heard through the throng of people standing around the child. After asking the adults to step aside to give them room to work, the paramedics were finally able to assess the situation. They squatted down next to the six-year-old, who, at the sight of them, cried even louder.
"Hi, sweetheart! I'm Johnny, and the guy next to me is my friend Roy. We're here to take care of your owies. You're Kathy, right?"
While the girl's cries sobs subsided a bit, she clamped her mouth shut and didn't say a thing.
"You see, Kathy, we only want to see if you hurt yourself."
"Mummy says never to talk to strangers."
"Yes, and your mummy is right about that. But you need to tell us where it hurts so we can make the pain go away. Tell you what, if I show you how to make three little things fly around through the air, will you tell me what happened?"
The little girl's eyes grew wide at that proposition, and she nodded.
"Great deal!" Johnny said, and went over to Roy, who already rummaged through the supplies to find three suitable objects. After a moment DeSoto turned to his partner.
"Will these do?"
Johnny flipped one of them into the air and caught it easily. "Perfect."
Returning to Kathy he showed her the three packed-up replacement valves for the ambu-bag, which Roy had given him, and one by one threw them into the air. The child had obviously never seen a juggler before, which was a good thing, because Gage only managed about ten throws before he got out of rhythm and quickly caught the last one before it hit the ground. The blue eyes in front of them had grown even bigger and a smile spread under the tears and dirt.
Johnny grinned and tousled the girl's hair. "Ready for the other part of the deal?"
When Kathy nodded John turned to face his partner, being met by similarly big blue eyes, staring at him, seeming to say Only you, Junior. Only you.
The following examination didn't turn up anything serious. There were lots of scrapes and a few ugly bruises, but as far as the paramedics could tell no bones had been broken. Due to the loss of consciousness, however, Dr. Early insisted on a transport to Rampart.
*****
Johnny walked out of exam room three, where Kathy was looked over by Joe Early, and approached the Nurse's Station.
"Ah, there's last week's hero!" he was greeted by Dixie, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Nice close-up, Johnny. Of course, I wouldn't have needed those scenes in the news. I kind of know the 'I'm fine' discussions with the customary consequences by heart." Even the usually reserved Dr Brackett seemed to have a hell of a time at Johnny's expense.
Johnny stopped in mid-stride, hands on his hips: "There I am, risking my neck to save another man's life, and this is what I get!"
Roy looked up from the supply form in his hands, not managing to keep a straight face. "Don't rile up my partner, it's me who has to pick up the pieces afterwards."
"Thanks, man, real thoughtful of you, partner!" Johnny said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"No, seriously, Johnny pulled quite a show today. The little girl we just brought in wouldn't let us near her until Junior here started juggling for her."
Dixie raised an eyebrow. "Well, Johnny, I didn't know you were a juggler!"
"Well," Johnny said, his irritation quickly forgotten, "I wasn't until yesterday. I started practicing with two balls before last shift, and, you know, Dix, when you start you simply can't stop, and . . . "
"Just a minute." Kel Brackett's voice cut in. Something in that voice made Johnny close his mouth and swallow dryly.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that 'last shift' you just referred to the shift you ended up here with the smoke inhalation?"
"I . . . "
"So, let me get this straight. You only started with two balls before that, and now, only two days after a severe smoke intoxication, you are able to juggle three balls on some rescue," the doctor went on, still with an ominously calm air.
"It wasn't balls, just three . . . three . . . " Gage stammered. He involuntarily backed up against the wall as Brackett advanced on him.
"Didn't I tell you not to overdo it on your days off?"
"Oh, well . . . N . . . Not exactly."
Roy, who had been witnessing the conversation from a safe distance, now had to turn away to hide the smile he had been able to conceal thus far.
"Oh right, then my words were 'take it easy'. Learning to juggle three balls is not my idea if taking it easy, my friend!" Kel shook his head. "Johnny, Johnny, will you ever learn?"
If the doctor was aware of the snicker coming from Roy's direction at this choice of words he didn't show it. Judging by the scolded-puppy-look in the dark-haired paramedic's eyes, Brackett decided that he had made his point. "Now, come on, hose jockey, show us what you've got, or do you want us to wait for the next show of 7 Days in 17 Minutes?"
Gage released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and snatched 3 packed-up bandages from a near-by tray. After a few unlucky tries, Gage managed 17 throws before one package hit the ground. He performed an exaggerated bow for his small audience.
"So, " Dixie asked while Johnny put the bandages away, "who got you on this juggling trip, anyway?"
"Her name is Eva."
"A new flame of yours?" Roy cut in. He took a look around. "A new nursing student I missed?"
"A real comedian today, aren't we? No, Eva is my cousin. A friend of her showed her the basics of juggling and when we met last week, well, she kinda infected me. You should try it, guys, it's so much fun. And relaxing. Improves your reflexes.
DeSoto packed up the supplies they needed and gently nudged Johnny into the Squad's direction, waving a quick goodbye to Dixie and Brackett.
"Next you'll start to unicycle on your days off."
"That's it, Roy! Great idea! Wait till I tell Eva!"
The rest of Johnny's enthusiasm was no longer audible at the Nurse's Station, as the two firemen turned the corner to the emergency doors. Brackett wasn't too sure if he had wanted to hear the rest of the exchange, anyway. What he had heard was quite enough. . .
Author's Note: This is for all those of you who a few years ago encouraged me to keep on writing after 'Must I Remember.' Juggling is a favourite hobby of mine and I wanted to find out if Johnny would for once show something like patience. And you need patience for juggling, believe me. If you haven't done it, I encourage you to try it sometime. Like Johnny said, when you start you simply can't stop.
Keep in mind I'm from Germany, so if something doesn't seem to add up…
Hope you enjoyed my little story, comments and feedback are very much appreciated.