This story was originally posted to Emergency! Shelter as a “Trust Contest” entry. Thanks again, Redgirl for giving this one a home! :)

Trust: On Through the Darkness ~

By: Cheryl

Note: This story is dedicated to the four firefighters that gave their lives fighting the Winthrop/30 Mile Wildfire in Washington State on July 10, 2001.

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“Do you trust me, Roy?”

Roy paused, blinking hard. “What?”

”Do you trust me?” Johnny stared at his partner intensely.

Roy’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” Johnny set the resuscitator back in the squad and grabbed the biophone.

Roy shook his head, tossing his buffer rag on the hood of the squad and walking around to his partner. “What brought that on?”

“What brought what on?” Johnny asked, setting the biophone down and kneeling next to it.

Roy stared down at the top of his partner’s head in disbelief. “Your question, Johnny. Have I done something to make you think I don’t trust you?”

Johnny looked up at Roy, a crooked smile gracing his face. “No,” he shrugged, “I just needed to know, that’s all.” He turned his attention back to the biophone as if everything was explained.

Roy rolled his eyes in resignation and returned to buffing the wax off the squad’s hood. Sometimes, Junior… Roy glanced up, watching his partner work in silence. He paused in his ministrations. “Why wouldn’t I trust you, Johnny?”

The dark-haired paramedic hesitated, a fleeting frown crossing his handsome features as he stared at the biophone. “Well, ya know, I’m the younger one, you’ve been a firefighter longer than me and well…” his voice trailed off.

Roy walked over and squatted down next to his partner. "Well, what?"

Johnny sighed and set down the biophone receiver. "It's…it's nothing, really."

"Whatever it is, it’s bugging you. Tell me about it." Roy insisted.

Johnny was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Roy, that rescue the other day. The high rise one, remember?"

Roy nodded, "yeah, the window washer who had a stroke on the scaffolding. What about it?"

"You had Chet tie off your line," Johnny finally looked up and right into his partner's eyes. "I was standing right there, but you had Chet tie off your line." He looked away.

Roy shook his head. "Johnny, I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean…that wasn't intentional. I wasn't passing you over on purpose."

"I just…I'm your partner, Roy, I should've handled your line. Me," he tapped his chest emphatically. "Not Chet." Johnny paused. "Like I said, Roy, its nothing."

Roy shook his head. “Johnny, you’re my partner. You and I have been in and out of some pretty tight spots.” Roy paused, waiting for the younger man to look up. After a moment, Johnny met his look. “I trust you with my life, Johnny.” He held the young man’s gaze for a second.

Johnny nodded and continued calibrating the biophone.

Roy smiled in acknowledgement and returned his attention to the squad’s hood, but Johnny's words lingered. Did I pass him over? Not on purpose, I couldn't have. Johnny's my partner and I DO trust him with my life, don't I? He shook off his internal argument and dismissed any lingering feelings of doubt. I do.

Roy wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at his watch. 9 a.m. and it’s already this hot? Roy glanced at Johnny, who was doing the same thing. “Gonna be another hot one today.” He fumbled for a conversation topic to break the awkward silence.

Johnny looked up. “Yeah, I heard low triple digits.” He sighed, returning the biophone to the squad. “Wish I was at the beach.”

Roy smiled. “With who?”

“Huh?”

“Which girl?” Roy’s eyes danced mischievously.

Johnny frowned. “Roy, just because I want to go to the beach doesn’t mean there has to be a girl with me.”

“Uh-huh. Which one?”

Johnny sighed. “Sheila.” His eyes took on a distant look, a goofy smile crossing his face. “Wow, Roy, she’s so…” he chuckled, “well, I’d like to see her in a bikini.” Johnny’s gaze focused. “But I can still go to the beach by myself and have a great time,” he added indignantly.

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Right.”

Johnny just glared at his partner.

Any reply the dark-haired paramedic might have had was lost as the klaxon sounded, echoing across the apparatus bay.

Johnny quickly closed the biophone and stowed it in the squad’s side compartment.

Roy and Johnny both jumped into the squad as different station tones continued to sound.

“Whatever it is, it’s big.” Roy mumbled as he grabbed his helmet.

Johnny nodded as he crammed his own helmet on his head and tightened the chinstrap.

“Station 51, Station 45, Station 110, Truck 87, Truck 35, Copter 10, Tractor 8, Battalion 14; brushfire; San Gabriel Mountains, SW of the Mount Baldy community. Meet at base station at Mount Baldy Elementary School. 14451 Oak Drive; 1-4-4-5-1 Oak Drive, cross street Mount Baldy Road. Time out: 9:05.”

“Station 51, KMG 365.” Captain Hank Stanley responded. He handed Roy one copy of the response slip and kept the other as he ran to the engine.

Roy handed the slip to his partner and flipped on the reds as he pulled out of the station.

Johnny glanced up, squinting as a hot breeze gusted through his window. “Great, wind. As if the hundred degree temps aren’t bad enough.”

Roy nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He turned left out of the station, the engine right behind him.

Twenty minutes later, Roy once more turned the squad to the left, onto Oak Drive and followed the narrow two-lane switchblade road as it traversed the low foothills.

“There it is,” Roy motioned out the windshield to a cloud of gray smoke on the horizon.

Johnny’s gaze followed Roy’s gesture. “Sure didn’t take long to get that big.”

“I know,” Roy nodded in agreement. “But with the wind and the temps…” his voice trailed off. He turned the squad into the parking lot of a small one level brick school building.

Roy parked next to Squad 45 as Mike pulled the engine around them and parked by truck 87.

Hank jumped down, motioning to his crew. “Stay put, I’ll find out where we’re needed.” He trotted over to the command post.

Marco, Mike and Chet wandered over to the squad where Roy and Johnny were leaning on the hood, staring at the plumes of smoke.

“Looks like its gonna be a busy day.” Marco commented his gaze wandering the distant fire, oblivious to the agreeing nods of the rest of the crew.

“Day?” Chet questioned, shaking his head. “We’ll be lucky if its just today.”

Six heads turned as Hank jogged over to his crew. “Roy, John, Chief wants you to stay here and be ready for medical responses. We’re headed to the west to help with the firebreak. See ya.” Hank waved as he headed to the engine, Mike, Marco and Chet following.

“Try not to work too hard, Gage,” Chet commented over his shoulder.

“Chet you…” Johnny started, but the stocky fireman quickly trotted out of earshot.

“Jerk.” Johnny groused under his breath, glaring at the retreating fireman.

Roy just chuckled, earning himself a scowl from his irate partner.

“Hey Johnny!”

Johnny and Roy turned and watched two men from 45’s walk up to them.

Johnny’s frown was replaced with a smile. “Stuart!” His gaze settled on the paramedic badge on the tall fireman’s left sleeve. “Wow, they must be desperate to graduate you from the program.” He teased.

Jim Stuart glanced at his partner, Pete Saunders. He mischievously looked back to Johnny. “Well, that definitely explains you, Gage.”

“Hey!” Johnny smiled. He extended his hand. “Seriously, congratulations, Jim.”

Jim shook his hand. “Thanks, Johnny.” He looked around, watching Engine 51 pull out of the parking lot. “I have to admit, it feels a little weird not riding out on an engine to fight this fire.”

”Squad 51, stand by for response.” Johnny’s HT ended the paramedics' conversation.

“Squad 51, 10-4,” Johnny waved at 45’s paramedics as he headed for the squad, Roy right behind him.

“Squad 51, Copter 10 reports a man down just north of the 2 mile marker on Shearson Rd.”

”Squad 51 responding from base camp.” The young paramedic pulled the squad door shut, as Roy started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

“10-4, Squad 51. Time out 9:35.”

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“Take it easy! You’re gonna be okay!” Johnny pushed gently on the victim’s shoulders, trying to keep him on the ground.

“Fire…the fire…” The middle aged man continued to thrash, despite the paramedic's efforts.

“Come on, man, just relax. We’re safe from the fire.” Johnny glanced at his partner, shaking his head.

Roy lifted the biophone receiver. “Rampart, victim is still incoherent and becoming increasingly resistant.”

“10-4, 51,” Dr. Brackett’s voice responded. “Restrain him as best you can and get him in here.”

”10-4, Rampart.” Roy dropped the receiver and glanced up the ravine to the road, waving the ambulance attendants down. “Leave the stretcher! We’ll bring him up in the stokes!”

The two men abandoned the stretcher and slowly picked their way down the steep ravine.

Roy looked down at their victim. When they’d arrived at the scene, they’d found the man unconscious with a large bump on his head from what appeared to be a fall down the ravine from the road. Roy glanced at the growing wildfire on the not so distant horizon. Probably watching the fire and not paying attention to where he was walking.

Roy snapped out of his reflections and looked up at the ambulance attendants. "Watch his arm, its broken."

A hot southerly gust of wind smacked Roy’s cheek. He turned, looking at the fire, years of fire fighting instincts screaming at him. Uh-oh. “Johnny, we need to…”

”Squad 51, LA.”

Roy fumbled around, grabbing the HT, his eyes never leaving the smoky horizon. “Squad 51.”

“Squad 51, fire has shifted directions and is moving your way. Evacuate the area immediately.” The dispatcher’s voice sounded oddly calm to Roy.

Roy looked at the victim then at his partner, concern clouding both their expressions. “Squad 51, 10-4. We’re transporting victim to Rampart Emergency.”

“10-4, Squad 51.”

Johnny tightened the safety straps around the man as he continued to reassure the agitated victim. “I’m just going to secure these straps and then we’re getting you out of here. Don’t worry about the fire; we’re safe, okay? Just take it easy and relax.”

The two ambulance attendants each grabbed a side of the stokes and Johnny took the front. They slowly made their way up the hillside.

Roy followed along, drug box and biophone in his hands. He looked over his shoulder, once again checking the fire. In the distance, Roy could hear the crackling as inferno consumed everything in its path. He quickened his pace, coming up next to the stokes.

Johnny glanced over at his partner, catching the sense of urgency in Roy’s strides. It sent a cold shiver through his sweating body. Few things Johnny had ever seen rattled the levelheaded paramedic. Johnny glanced back, eyes widening at the devastating wildfire rapidly approaching them.

Panting heavily, Johnny finally stepped up on the road, sighing in relief as he and the other two men set the stokes on the stretcher, secured it and lifted the stretcher into the ambulance.

Johnny jumped into the ambulance, smiling slightly as a cool blast of conditioned air hit him in the face. He reached out, grabbing the victim’s wrist as Roy set the biophone and drug box next to him.

“See ya at Rampart.” Roy waved, slamming the doors shut and giving the ambulance a strong whack.

As the ambulance pulled away, Roy once more looked back at the out of control fire. He shook his head at the devastation and allowed himself a moment of frustration. He was a paramedic and loved being one, but deep down Roy had the heart of a firefighter. The sight of an out of control fire destroying everything in its path rubbed Roy the wrong way; and irritated him to no ends.

Shaking his head, Roy climbed into the squad and followed the ambulance to Rampart.

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“I’m tellin’ ya, Roy, I don’ t like it. I just don’t like it at all.” Johnny’s concerned voice broke the silence. “That fire is just…dangerous. I mean, did you see how it just all the sudden changed directions? I don’t like it at all.”

Roy nodded, his eyes never leaving the road as he pulled the squad out of Rampart’s parking lot. “It’s the weather, Johnny. It’s windy, dry and hot.” Roy ticked each item off on his right hand.

Johnny sighed. “I know, but I still don’t like it.”

“Me either,” Roy agreed softly.

They drove along in silence the rest of the way back to the elementary school base camp.

As Roy backed the squad into a parking place next to Squad 45, Johnny glanced out the window at the dirty soot covered vehicle. “Man! What happened to them?” he pointed at the squad.

Roy looked over, shaking his head. “Sure looks like they had a rough go of it.”

Both men jumped out of the squad and looked around.

“I’ll check us in, why don’t you check the first aid station?” Roy suggested.

Johnny nodded. “Okay, meet ya there.” The young paramedic crossed the school courtyard, stopping first to grab a large glass of water, which he quickly downed. Johnny entered the aid station and stopped, scanning the large multi-purpose room that had been converted to a first aid station. Johnny turned, noticing his partner approaching. “See Jim or Pete anywhere?”

Roy shook his head and glanced around the large hall. He smiled, pointing to a corner of the room, where a paramedic from 110’s was bandaging Jim’s forehead. “There they are.”

Johnny and Roy quickly crossed the room.

“Jim? What happened?” Johnny questioned, staring down at his friend.

Jim sighed, wincing as Tony Lagosi from 110’s finished with the bandage. “We were coming back from evac duty, when the fire jumped a fire line and crossed the road in front of us.”

“Geeze, Stuart, you guys were cutting it a little close weren’t you?”

Pete Saunders interjected before his partner could respond. “Blame it on that old hermit who was refusing to leave,” he motioned to an old man with an oxygen mask on, lying on a cot nearby. “We couldn’t convince him that he couldn’t stay in his house until the fire was practically on top of us.” He shook his head in disgust. “We had to have a water drop just to get out.”

Johnny stared in amazement. “So, how did that happen?” He gestured to Jim’s head.

Jim grimaced. “Let’s just say when the old man decided to leave his house, he LEFT.”

Pete smirked, catching the confused looks from 51’ s paramedics. “He shoved Jim out of the way, trying to get to the squad. Mr. Graceful here tripped, fell down the stairs and hit his head on the mailbox post.”

Johnny hastily covered his mouth, trying to smother the laugh that still escaped. “Nice goin, Stuart.”

Jim sighed in exasperation. “Couldn’t leave it alone, could you, Saunders?” The tall paramedic glared at his partner. But Pete just smiled back.

Jim rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the chuckles from the four paramedics. He focused his irritation on one man. “Shut up, Gage.”

“All fixed, Jimbo,” Tony scoffed, stepping back. “Try to avoid mailboxes in the future.” He grinned and walked away, amidst the chuckles from the other three.

“Shut up, Lagosi!” Jim slapped his thighs in annoyance.

“Come on, Johnny,” Roy gestured at his chuckling partner, “before Stuart gives you a matching lump on your head.”

Johnny laughed, nodding at Jim. See ya around, Graceful.” He looked at his friend’s partner. “Pete.”

Jim Stuart stared daggers at Johnny. “Gage…”

“I know, shut up.” Johnny responded, backing away.

“Something else comes to mind, but there are children around.” Jim pointed at his friend and gave him a mock look of anger.

Laughing, Johnny and Roy walked away, leaving the slightly battered paramedic to nurse his bruised ego.

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Johnny paused and looked westward, just in time to catch the setting sun. The day’s over already? The two paramedics had been run ragged all day with one rescue after another. It seemed like they’d seen everything from smoke inhalation to serious internal injuries.

The young paramedic’s mind lingered on the most serious injury they’d seen that day. Wonder if Chuck’s gonna be okay. The twenty-year-old firefighter from 36’s was less than a year out of the academy and working on his first wildfire, when a sudden wind gust blew a charred tree down on top of him. By the time Johnny and Roy had arrived, Chuck had been unconscious and, from what they could tell, suffering from heavy internal bleeding.

The two paramedics had managed to stabilize the injured firefighter enough for transport to Rampart, but Chuck’s grip on life was tenuous at best.

Johnny’s gaze wandered from one glowing horizon to the other. Anger briefly passed through him. Damn that thing! He wearily walked on to the squad, his occasionally dragging footsteps stirring up dust on the dirt edge of the parking lot.

As Johnny approached the squad, Roy lifted his head from its resting-place on the back of the seat. “The fire?” he asked simply.

Johnny shook his head, frustration briefly clouding his features. “Ten percent containment,” he grumbled. A hot gust of wind blasted him in the back. The young paramedic shook his head, sighing. “That may not last though.”

Concern replaced the frustration on Johnny’s face. “Chuck?”

Roy shook his head. “No word.” He held out a Styrofoam cup. “Here, have some water.”

Johnny shook his head, but Roy persisted.

“Drink it, Junior, you need it.”

For the first time in hours, a small smile creased Johnny’s face. “Yes, Mom.” He took the cup, draining it in one gulp.

“That’s a good boy.” Roy joked back.

“Squad 51, stand by for response.”

The smiles faded from both men’s faces, and sighs escaped both their lips.

Roy reached over, grabbing the mike. “Squad 51.”

“Squad 51, fireman down. 1815 Blanca Terrace Drive. 1-8-1-5 Blanca Terrace Drive. Cross street, BLM Road 4527, time out 20:45.”

“Squad 51, 10-4.” Roy responded as he scooted over into the driver’s seat and Johnny wearily climbed in next to him.

Johnny thought for a moment. “Blanca Terrace, isn’t that in the current path of the fire?”

Roy nodded, “yep.”

“Great,” Johnny muttered under his breath.

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“What’ve you got, Cap?” Roy asked, as he and Johnny pulled their equipment from the squad. Roy spared a glance at the exhausted captain. “You okay?"

The captain of 110’s nodded. “Yeah, just tired, DeSoto. It’s Kelsey. He tripped coming down the hillside and took a pretty good shot on the head. He’s conscious now and seems okay, but I thought he should be checked out all the same.”

“Any signs of back or neck injury?” Johnny asked, reaching for the trauma box.

The captain shook his head. “Don’t think so. We had quite a battle just to keep him sitting down.” He smiled slightly, grabbing the trauma box from Johnny’s hands.

The captain led the two paramedics to where a burly firefighter sat, leaning back against a large rock, his crewmates standing around him.

The other firefighters of station 110 parted, allowing the two paramedics to approach the injured firefighter.

“Hi there, Kelsey, heard you took a fall.” Roy grabbed the fireman’s wrist and looked at his watch.

Burt Kelsey nodded, grimacing at the movement of his head. “Yeah, but I’m okay.”

“Is that why you wince every time you move your head, Burt?” one of his crewmates piped up.

Johnny opened the drug box and handed Roy the BP cuff. He then looked up at the captain. “How long was he out?”

“I’d say two, maybe three minutes.” The captain pulled his HT out of his pocket. “Ambulance?”

Chuckling at Kelsey's loud sigh, Johnny nodded.

“Pulse is 105,” Roy relayed, picking up the BP cuff. “Respirations are 25.”

Johnny scratched down the information on a tablet of paper. He glanced over at Kelsey as he opened the drug box. “Now, Burt, you lost consciousness, so just humor us, okay?” he smiled.

Burt nodded, wincing again. “I gotta stop doing that,” he mumbled.

Roy smiled as he pulled the stethoscope from his ears.” BP’s 135/90. Burt, do you hurt anywhere else?”

Kelsey started to shake his head, but stopped himself. “No.”

“What day is it?” Roy asked as he flashed his penlight in the fireman’s eyes.

“Tuesday.” Burt replied, squinting at the light.

Roy flipped the penlight off. “Pupils equal but slightly sluggish. Does the light bother you?”

Kelsey sighed. “Yeah, but its only ‘cause I have a headache.”

Johnny picked up the biophone receiver. “Rampart this is Squad 51.”

“Go ahead 51.” The gentle voice of Dr. Joe Early responded.

Johnny paused, looking back at the muscular fireman. “Burt, how old are ya?”

“32.” Burt replied.

Johnny nodded. “Rampart, we have a 32 year old fireman who fell down a hillside. He was knocked unconscious for approximately 2-3 minutes but is now conscious and coherent. No sign of neck or back injuries or any other injuries, however he complains of a headache and seems sensitive to bright light. Vitals are pulse 105, respirations 25, BP is 135/90. Pupils are equal but slightly sluggish.”

“51, continue to monitor vitals and bring him in.” Dr. Early responded.

“10-4, Rampart.” Johnny responded. He looked over his shoulder at the approaching ambulance attendants. Johnny glanced at Roy, who nodded.

“Okay, Burt,” Johnny smiled, “We’re gonna help you stand and get to that stretcher, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kelsey leaned forward, pulling his legs under him, “but I can…” his voice trailed off as all color abruptly drained from his face. “Whoa…” he leaned back, swallowing hard.

Johnny held tight to his arm, as Roy helped the fireman gently lean his head back against the rock. “Take it easy, man, just take some deep breaths.” Johnny reassured.

Again, Burt swallowed hard and then drew in a deep breath as instructed. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good,” he croaked.

“Just relax a second.” Roy smiled reassuringly, “then we’ll try again.”

Captain Lacey looked back at the fire, then down at Roy, an urgent look on his face.

Roy nodded. “Burt?” he turned his attention back to the injured fireman, “you ready to try once more?”

Burt weakly lifted his arms. "Yeah, but you why don’t you give me a hand this time?”

Roy smiled, grabbing one arm, as Johnny grabbed the other.

Captain Lacey motioned at one of his men. “Tomlinson, get behind Kelsey and help him stand as Gage and DeSoto pull him up, okay?”

Tomlinson stepped between Burt and the large rock and slipped his arms under Kelsey’s, wrapping them tight around Burt’s chest, his chin resting on the injured fireman’s left shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Kelsey,” he joked.

“Shut up, Tomlinson,” Burt replied, annoyed.

“On the count of three,” Johnny chuckled, “One…two…three!”

Both paramedics pulled as Tomlinson lifted his crewmate.

Slowly, Burt stood, wavering slightly as the three men kept their grip on him.

“Burt, you okay?” Johnny asked, watching the fireman waver slightly.

Kelsey raised his hand to his head. “Yeah, I…I just don’t like standin’.”

Johnny nodded. “Okay, lets get you on the stretcher then, all right?”

The three men carefully helped the fireman lay down on the stretcher and took him to the ambulance.

Roy glanced first at the not so distant fire, then at the large house directly in its path. “Cap, that house?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Captain Lacey frowned. “It’s evacuated. There just isn't enough defensible space to consider trying to fight off the fire, we…we wouldn’t stand a chance. We can’t save it.” The frustration in his voice wasn’t lost on the blonde paramedic.

Roy nodded and handed Johnny the biophone and drug box, as his younger partner jumped into the ambulance.

Captain Lacey turned to his crew. “All right men, that structure's a loss! Let’s gather the equipment and get outta here!”

The captain glanced at Roy. “Take care of my man, okay?”

Roy smiled, “sure, Cap.” He watched the captain trot back to help his men, the glow of the rapidly approaching fire adding urgency to their actions.

The blonde paramedic allowed himself a brief glance at the doomed house. He shook his head. Damn. Dismissing the thoughts, Roy trotted to the squad and drove off after the ambulance, never once looking back.

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"Hi, Johnny, Roy," Dixie McCall's thin smile greeted the paramedics as they approached the base station. "How's the fire?" her voice lowered in concern.

Both men looked at the ER nurse, Johnny leaning on the counter, Roy standing behind him. Their silence answered her question.

Dixie nodded.

"How's Chuck? Johnny's voice broke the silence.

Dixie looked away, her eyes downcast. "He didn't make it," she said softly, "lacerated liver; we couldn't get the bleeding stopped in time."

Johnny's shoulders sagged, his head dropping and shaking slightly. He glanced over at Roy, who had a blank stare on his face.

"You two did everything you could for him," Dixie tried to reassure the two men.

"Yeah," Roy pushed back from the counter. "Look, ahh…we need to get going."

The corner of Dixie's mouth curled upward. "Sure. Stay safe you two."

"Thanks," the men's whispers mingled together as they moved away.

"Johnny, Roy," Brackett waved at the two men as they walked passed him. The doctor paused, as the paramedics briefly waved at him then wandered down the long hallway. He turned to Dixie, as she strolled up to him. He looked at her, questioningly.

"They asked about the fireman they brought in, Chuck Wallace," she answered his silent question.

Dr. Brackett pursed his lips and nodded. "I had a feeling it was that."

“God Kel, they look like death warmed over.” Dix whispered as she watched the retreating backs of the two paramedics.

Brackett nodded, "I know, Dix. All those men have been run into the ground today. Losing one of their own really doesn't help either." He smiled. "Don't worry about them, Dix, they'll be fine."

Dixie smiled. "I know, but…" she chuckled, "I can't help it."

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Roy dozed, trying to grab at least a few minutes of sleep, in the hazy predawn light. He opened his eyes, glancing over at his partner, as the squad once more shook under the young paramedic’s restless fidgeting.

Johnny caught his partner’s slightly annoyed glance. He looked away, frowning. “Sorry.”

Roy nodded. “Johnny, this is the first downtime we’ve had since yesterday morning. I’d think even you would be tired.”

Johnny sighed. “I am, I just can’t sleep, ya know?” He sat up abruptly. “Want some coffee?”

If I say yes, maybe I’ll get a few minutes of peace. “Sure, okay.”

Johnny stepped out of the squad, pausing to look back at his partner. “Black?”

Roy clenched his jaw, barely suppressing a sigh. “Yeah, that’s fine, Johnny.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as his young partner walked off on his search.

After a few minutes of peace, Roy’s restless dozing was ended by Johnny’s return.

The young paramedic stepped into the squad, slumping down in his seat as he held out a cup towards Roy.

Roy reached out, taking a steaming cup from his partner. “Thanks.”

Johnny stared down at his cup, his gaze distant.

“Thanks,” Roy repeated, his eyes narrowing at his partner’s expression. “Johnny?”

Johnny blinked hard, taking a deep breath and looking over at Roy. “What?”

Roy lifted the cup slightly. “Thanks for the coffee.”

”Oh,” a fleeting smile crossed Johnny’s face. “Sure.”

“What is it?” Roy asked, puzzled. He waited for Johnny to answer.

The young paramedic looked out his window then back at his partner. "He was going to be a paramedic, you know." Johnny's soft voice broke the silence.

"Who?

"Chuck. I bumped into Frank from over at 36's. He said Chuck was going to apply to be a paramedic."

Roy nodded silently. "Did he have a family?"

"I don't know, Roy, I didn’t ask. I…I almost hope not, ya know?"

"Squad 51, what is your status?"

Johnny sighed, staring at the mike. After a brief moment, he grabbed it. "Squad 51, available."

"Squad 51, man injured. Meet Engine 110 on fire access road 142, just off the BLM 4527 juncture. Time out: 21:20."

"Squad 51, 10-4," Johnny responded. He glanced over at Roy as he placed the mike back in its cradle. "Here we go again."

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“Chief?”

McConnikee turned away from the topographical map he’d been studying. "Yes?"

“Chief, we’ve regained containment on the eastern front.” A sooty and stained Captain Hank Stanley smiled slightly at the small victory.

McConikee returned the expression and turned back to the map. “Well, that’s a start, Hank.” The fire chief ran his finger along one of the roads. “That means right here along access road 142 and BLM road 4527.” He turned and stared intently at the captain. “How stable do you think the fire line is, Hank?”

“Chief, I really don’t…” Hank started, but was stopped by McConnikee’s raised hand.

”I know you can’t be certain, Hank, I’m looking for your assessment of the situation. Do you think the fire line’ll hold?”

Hank sighed. “Honestly? I really don’t know, chief. It seems stable for now, but if the winds pick up again…I don’t know if she’ll hold.”

McConnikee nodded. “Lets not waste time, then. Engine 110 is up there with your squad, responding to a man down call. I want you and your company to get up there and try to fortify the firebreak from access road 140. I’ll send units to the other side of the line at road 223; north of 4527 and they’ll work towards you. Lets see if we can keep the line this time. As soon as 110’s is available, I’ll send them to help you.”

Hank nodded. “Right, Chief.” He turned, stopped by McConnikee’s hand on his arm.

“Be careful, Hank.”

Stanley smiled slightly. “Right, Chief.”

McConnikee let go, watching momentarily as Hank Stanley trotted back to his crew.

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Roy gently pulled the squad to a stop next to Engine 110, shutting off the motor before joining his partner as they walked up to the waiting engine crew.

Captain Lacey nodded at the two paramedics. “Gage, DeSoto.”

Roy nodded. “Have any idea what the situation is, Cap?”

Lacy sighed. “Some.” He pointed to the line of fire less than a mile away. “We’ve regained some containment, mostly along that front. The thermals from the fire make it tricky, but we might be able to hold containment as long as the winds stay calm. All the same, I’ll be glad when this rescue’s taken care of. Copter 12 spotted a man about a half-mile from here, right along the side of the ravine. We should run right into him if we take this trail. He seemed to be unable to walk, but they couldn’t really tell what was going on. Grab your gear, let’s get going.”

Both paramedics nodded and returned to the squad. A few minutes later, they walked back, carrying all the necessary equipment in a stokes basket.

“Tomlinson, give them a hand.” Lacey motioned at one of his men, who grabbed the side of the stokes, as the rescue party set off on a narrow deer trail through the woods. Deer trail was an exaggeration, as the path was barely discernable through the underbrush. Johnny tripped over at least two different branches, Roy turned his ankle on a rock and Tomlinson fell flat on his face. All the men were having a rough go through the woods.

As Johnny stumbled to his knees for the third time, he glanced up at the captain. “Cap, if this guy can’t walk, we’re never gonna get him out on foot.”

Captain Lacey nodded in agreement, as he also tripped on a large tree root. He reached in his pocket, pulling out an HT. “LA, Engine 110. We’re going to need a helicopter at this response for patient evacuation.”

”Engine 110, LA, 10-4. All copters are involved in water drops at this time. ETA is approximately 20 minutes.” Dispatch responded.

“10-4, LA. What’s the report on containment in this area?”

“Stand by, 110.”

The men listened intently to the silence as they continued to make their way to the victim.

“Engine 110, LA.”

”Engine 110,” Lacey responded pausing in the trail.

“Engine 110, IC reports fire is still contained in your area. Conditions are unchanged.”

Lacey nodded. “10-4, LA. Engine 110, clear.” He resumed the trek, the rest of the men following.

After a few more minutes, Captain Lacey looked up the side of the ravine, pointing. “There he is.”

“Help me!! Help me, please!” The man shouted, waving frantically at the firemen, who fanned out, making their way up the ravine to the victim.

“Okay, okay, take it easy, we’ll help you.” Johnny reassured the man who, in his excitement, had tried to stand. He cried out in pain, grabbing onto the young paramedic, who steadied him. “Just relax and sit down, okay?” Johnny gently pushed the man back into a sitting position. “What’s your name?”

The man relaxed slightly. “Bill. Bill Whitmire. I live just over that hill…at least I did until today,” he added softly.

The hurt and sad look in the man’s face once more brought up the frustrated feelings Johnny had been pushing aside for the last two days. The young paramedic swallowed hard, once more casting the emotions aside and focusing on his job. “Mr. Whitmire, where do you hurt?”

“My leg,” he pointed to his left shin, grimacing as Roy cut the pant leg. A large odd shaped bump and the corresponding swelling greeted the blond paramedic’s gaze. He pursed his lips and looked up at Johnny nodding.

Bill Whitmire watched the silent exchange. “It’s broken?”

Johnny turned his attention back to the victim. “Probably, but don’t worry. We’ll get it splinted up and get you to Rampart hospital. Everything’s gonna be fine.” Johnny grabbed the man’s wrist and looked down at his watch.

“Mr. Whitmire,” Captain Lacey jumped in, “this area was evacuated hours ago, what are you doing out here?”

Whitmire looked around as if he was searching for something he knew he wouldn’t see. “Max,” he whispered.

Johnny abruptly looked up his alarmed glance meeting Roy’s.

“Max?” Lacey pressed, “who’s Max?”

”My champion Malamute,” Whitmire responded, “I was getting the dogs together to evacuate and he got out of his kennel and ran off. I’ve been searching for him ever since. I finally spotted him and was following him trying to get him to stop. Guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking. I stepped into some kind of hole. Sunk almost all the way to my knee then fell.”

“A dog?” Lacey responded in bewildered disgust.

The victim looked around at the equally baffled looks on the rest of the men’s faces. “Its not just any dog,” Whitmire offered in defense, “Max stood Best of Breed at Westminster last year! He’s almost priceless to me!”

His HT cut off Lacey’s response. “Engine 110, what is your status?”

Lacey looked questioningly at the paramedics.

“With the copter coming, we can handle it from here, Cap, thanks.” Roy responded as he pulled a splint from the trauma box.

“LA, Engine 110, available.” Captain Lacey responded.

“Engine 110, respond with Engine 51 to re-enforce the containment line at the end of access road 140.”

”Engine 110, 10-4. Responding from Squad 51’s rescue. ETA 15 minutes.” Lacey waved at the paramedics as he and his crew started back down the trail.

“Mr. Whitmire,” Roy softly grabbed the man’s attention. “We’re gonna splint your leg now, this might hurt some, but we have to do it, okay?”

Whitmire nodded, grimacing as Roy gently placed his leg in the splint.

“Rampart, this is Squad 51,” Johnny focused his attention away from the victim and on the biophone. His eyes narrowed at the silence that greeted him. “Rampart this is Squad 51, how do you read me?” Silence once more greeted the dark-haired paramedic. He glanced at Roy, motioning at the HT by the blonde paramedic’s side. “I think we’re in a dead zone; we’ll have to transport and have the chopper notify the hospital.”

Roy nodded. “His vitals are normal, so I think we can send him in without going along. We’re probably going to be needed out here again, soon enough.”

Johnny grimly nodded in agreement and looked up, as Copter 12 appeared on the horizon. He lifted his HT. “Copter 12, Squad 51. We’re unable to transmit out of the area from down here. Can you notify Rampart Emergency that you’re transporting a non critical patient with no paramedic escort?”

“10-4, Squad 51.” The pilot responded.

Before long, Roy and Johnny had helped Mr. Whitmire into the stokes and watched as the basket gradually made its way up to the chopper.

Johnny shook his head as he watched the stokes disappear into the helicopter. “All this over a dog,” he muttered, disgustedly.

“Yeah,” Roy nodded in agreement, his reply cut short by a rustling in the surrounding trees.