NOTE: This story originally appeared on Junior’s Journals. Thanks for adopting it, Redgirl :)

Bad Luck Follows the Believers ~

By: Cheryl

Roy DeSoto walked restlessly out of the back of the station, staring at the parking lot. He glanced down at his watch. Where are you, Junior? He walked back inside, shaking his head. If you’re late again, Cap’ll have your head…then your tail! He glanced at his watch again. His partner, Johnny Gage had three minutes before roll call; his time was definitely running out. Roy paced back into the apparatus bay, his head whipping around at the sound of squealing tires in the parking lot, followed by the sounds of a slamming door and running footsteps.

Johnny streaked through the back of the apparatus bay, making a beeline for the locker room.

Roy followed along behind his partner. “Johnny! Where have you been? If you’re late again, Cap’ll give you latrine duty for the rest of your life!”

Not taking the time to unbutton his shirt, Johnny yanked it over his head. “I know, I know! They started construction on the freeway today!” Now it was Johnny’s turn to look at his watch. “Damn! I must’ve sat at a standstill on the on ramp for 25 minutes!” He flashed Roy a pleading look. “It’s not my fault!”

Roy just shook his head, turning towards the door. “Somehow, I don’t think Cap is really going to care if it’s your fault or not. You better hurry.” He walked out of the locker room, heading for roll call.

Johnny threw his jeans into his locker. He dressed in record time, shoving the rest of his street clothes in after his jeans. Johnny slammed the locker door and paused, an overwhelming feeling of forgetfulness overcoming him. What am I forgetting? He glanced down, verifying that he had his badge and nameplate, and that his boots were laced. No…not those…what is it? Johnny couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. He shrugged. Must not be that important.

“GAGE!” the captain's voice boomed out.

Johnny rushed out of the locker room, his feeling of forgetfulness replaced by one of fear. “Coming, Cap!”

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

Johnny ran towards the group of men. He skidded the last few feet across the floor, gently bumping into Roy.

Roy blinked, shaking his head in disbelief at his partner.

Captain Hank Stanley glanced up from his clipboard, raising an eyebrow at his young paramedic. “Nice of you to join us, John.” He glanced at his watch. “10 seconds to spare. That’s a new record, even for you.”

Johnny smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Cap. There was this construction…and traffic…”

Hank raised his hand, interrupting Johnny. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Johnny closed his mouth, amidst snickers from the rest of the crew, including his partner. Johnny threw Roy a dark look.

As he stood there, listening to the Captain, Johnny was once more overcome by his feeling of forgetfulness. He went over the events of the morning, trying to remember whatever it was he’d forgotten. The iron! No wait, I didn’t use that this morning…did I lock the door?

“Gage, what are you cookin’ for dinner?” Hank asked, not looking up from his notes.

Silence.

Finally, Hank did look up, following the looks of his crew toward Johnny, who seemed to be a million miles away, staring off into the distance.

Hank raised his voice. “John? What’s for dinner?”

Johnny didn’t even notice the rest of the guys staring at him.

“GAGE!” Hank shouted, startling his paramedic out of his thoughts.

“What? Huh?” Johnny looked at his captain, a confused expression on his face.

“What…are…we…having…for…din…ner?” Cap enunciated each word carefully.

Johnny’s mind raced. “Uh…I’m not sure yet, Cap.”

“Great.” Chet Kelly muttered. “That means hotdogs.”

“Or hamburgers,” Mike Stoker added quietly.

Johnny fixed both of them with an irritated and indignant look. “It does not!” He looked at Hank. “Cap, it WON’T be hotdogs or hamburgers.”

“Okay. Whatever it turns out to be…you’re up to make it, John. Oh, and do you think you could try to pay attention? I know this isn’t the most interesting stuff in the world, but I’d hate to have to TEST you on it.” Hank fixed Johnny with a fatherly stare.

Johnny nodded, blushing.

The day’s duties assigned, Hank released the men, each one going his different way.

Roy stopped Johnny. “What’s going on with you? You’re already on thin ice with Cap, your little bout of daydreaming sure didn’t help.”

Johnny shook his head. “I couldn’t help it. There’s something I forgot to do this morning, but I can’t remember what. All I know is the feeling is eating away at me. I gotta remember what it is!” Johnny’s voice went up an octave in frustration.

Roy stared at Johnny’s fixated face. Uh-oh. Roy could just see his partner ranting on and on about this for the next 24 hours. He sighed in resignation. “When did you get this feeling?”

Johnny shrugged. “Right before I came out for roll call.”

“You didn’t have it before you got to work?”

“No, why?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Well, doesn’t it stand to reason that if you didn’t have this feeling before you got to work, that whatever you forgot to do has something to do with work?”

A smile started on Johnny’s face, broadening as he came to the same realization Roy had. “YEAH!” He frowned. “But what?” Johnny leaned back against the passenger door of the squad and stared at the floor. “I came in, changed my clothes, closed my locker…” He emphasized each point with a wave of his hand. Johnny’s eyes widened and his hand dropped as what he’d forgotten finally hit him. “THAT’S IT!” He turned, running for the locker. “Oh, MAN! I hope I’m not too late!”

Roy followed, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What?”

Neither man made it to the lockers as the tones sounded.

“NO!” Johnny’s pleading voice echoed, drowned out by the dispatcher.

“Station 51. Motor vehicle accident. 7653 Carlson, 7-6-5-3 Carlson. Time out 8:35.”

Roy turned back toward the squad, pausing as he watched Johnny freeze in place. “Johnny? Come on!”

Johnny looked to Roy, then back at the locker room. He sighed, following his partner.

Roy shook his head in bewilderment. What is his problem?

Both men climbed into the squad. Roy pulled out of the station, the engine right behind them.

As they raced down the street, Roy glanced over at Johnny. “You want to tell me what’s wrong, Johnny?”

Johnny shook his head, trying to maintain a look of professionalism. “It doesn’t matter now, Roy.”

The conversation was ended as they rounded the corner, spotting the MVA. Both men’s eyes widened at the sight before them.

“I don’t believe it.” Johnny’s stated simply.

Before them, a large car carrier was parked alongside the road, just outside of a truck dealership. Next to the carrier, a brand new 1975 metallic blue Chevy was flipped over on its cab, rocking back and forth gently. People were gathered around it. All of their heads turned at the sound of the approaching help.

Roy pulled the squad up behind the group of people. A nervous man in a business suit greeted him.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” He opened Roy’s door.

Roy nodded, stepping around the man, trying to get to the squad’s compartments. “Okay, okay, just take it easy and tell me what happened.”

The nervous man looked around, scanning the faces of the firemen. He sighed, nodding.

Hank escorted him towards the accident, encouraging him to explain what happened. Roy and Johnny followed close behind, carrying their equipment.

The man ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “I…I’m Ted Warner of Terrific Ted’s Trucks. These trucks were delivered to me this morning. I was in the office when I heard shouting and a crash out here. I came outside and saw…this!” He waved frantically at the overturned truck.

Hank nodded. “Who was driving?”

“Bobby. Bobby Warner…he’s my nephew.”

Roy and Johnny broke away from the group and approached the wrecked vehicle. Johnny knelt down on the driver’s side while Roy trotted around to the passenger’s side.

Hank looked around at the onlookers. “Did anyone see what happened?”

“I did.” A large balding man stepped forward.

Hank nodded at the man, motioning him forward. He looked at the rest of the crowd. “Okay, everyone else needs to back off and give us some room. Come on people, back off, please!” He turned to Chet and Marco. “Kelly, Lopez, grab the reel line and stand by.”

The two firemen nodded, running back to the engine.

Johnny scanned the door. “Looks like he had the window open when he flipped over.” Johnny pulled off his helmet and laid down on his belly, scooting himself into the vehicle. “Bobby?” Johnny pushed himself further into the truck. “Bobby, can you hear me?”

His teenage victim was unresponsive, lying in a crumpled heap in the center of the cab. Blood trickled down his forehead, dripping onto his discolored and misshapen arm. Johnny edged closer, reaching for Bobby’s neck.

“Roy?” Johnny palpated the victim’s pulse. “He’s alive, but he’s unconscious. Looks like he took a pretty good shot to his forehead.” Johnny glanced down at the victim’s right arm. He didn’t need an x-ray to know what he was looking at. “Looks like he has a fracture on his right arm too. I can’t tell anything else yet.” Johnny glanced down at his watch, his hand still on Bobby’s neck. “Pulse is…68.” He glanced at the boy’s chest. “Respirations are…12.”

“Right.” Roy replied, opening the biophone. “Rampart this is Squad 51.”

Hank steered the witness away from the truck. “Okay, what happened here, Mr.…”

“Carter. Butch Carter.” The man waved at the truck. “I’m the driver. That kid was backing the truck off the top level. He’s unloaded dozens of trucks for me, and each time, I hold my breath. The kid’s crazy, always goin’ too fast, and hot roddin’ and stuff. Anyhow, he was messin’ around unloading that one. I think he hit the gas way too hard and the wheels were turned…I don’t know, it happened pretty fast, but the next thing I knew, the truck toppled off the top level and Bam! Slammed right down on the pavement.”

Hank nodded, glancing back at the truck.

Inside, Johnny sat up, reaching over Bobby. He gently palpated the boy’s spine. “Roy? His spine feels okay, but we better use a backboard just in case.”

“Okay.” Roy acknowledged. “Rampart wants a BP and for you to check his pupilary response.”

“Right,” Johnny replied, taking the BP cuff from Roy’s outstretched hand.

Hank waved back towards the crowd, now being managed by police officers on the scene. “Thanks, Mr. Carter, you’ve been a big help. I need you to move away from here, okay?”

Butch Carter nodded. “Yeah…look, is the kid going to be okay?”

Hank sighed, “We’re going to do our best. Please, step back now okay?”

Carter sighed. “Right.”

Hank motioned at Marco. “Lopez! Grab the backboard and a pry bar from the squad!” Hank walked up to the overturned truck and squatted down next to Roy.

“How is he, Roy?”

Roy looked up at his captain, a serious expression on his face. “We’re not sure yet, Cap, he’s unconscious and has a broken arm. Beyond that…I don’t know.”

“Roy?” Johnny’s voice drifted out of the vehicle. “Pupils are equal and reactive, BP is 110/60.”

Johnny pocketed his penlight, craning his head to see out of the truck. “Roy? Let's…” Johnny’s voice trailed off as Bobby moved. A small groan escaped the boy’s mouth.

Johnny shifted back from the door, lowering his head down by the victim’s face. “Bobby? Take it easy. Don’t move okay? Can you hear me?”

Slowly, Bobby’s eyes opened. “Wha…who are you?” he whispered, blinking hard. “Ow…my…arm.”

The dark haired man smiled, putting on his best confident look. “I’m Johnny, Bobby. I’m a paramedic with the LA County Fire Department. Everything’s going to be okay, just take it easy.” Johnny raised his head. “Roy! He’s conscious, but a little groggy.” Johnny looked back down at Bobby. “I know your arm hurts…but do you hurt anywhere else?”

Bobby groaned. “My…my chest.”

“Which side?” Johnny asked.

“Left…” Bobby raised his arm, trying to point. He cried out in pain.

Johnny quickly stopped his young patient from moving. “Now, Bobby, don’t move. Just relax, okay?”

Johnny gently palpated Bobby’s left chest, causing the boy to wince in pain. Once again, Johnny leaned over towards the passenger window. “Roy? He’s got a lot of pain in his left ribcage. I think he may have some broken ribs. Can you hand me a splint for his arm?”

"Got it." Roy responded. He handed an arm splint through the window to his partner.

Johnny grabbed the splint from Roy, carefully wrapping it around Bobby’s arm.

Bobby watched him work. “Am…am I gonna be okay?” He winced as the paramedic shifted his arm.

Johnny smiled. “You’re gonna be fine, Bobby. We’re gonna get you outta here and take you to Rampart Hospital. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Bobby sighed. “My mom is gonna kill me.”

Johnny’s smile widened as he worked. “Well…she’ll be mad, but she’ll probably be more worried than anything else.”

Bobby agreed. “Yeah, she’ll worry about me. But once she knows I’m okay…then she’ll kill me.”

Johnny chuckled, finishing the splint.

“Gage?” Hank caught his paramedic’s attention. “We’re going to pop out the windshield and bring him out that way.” A large salvage cover came in through the window. “Use this to cover you two up, okay?”

Johnny grabbed the large tarp, spreading it out over himself and Bobby.

Bobby blinked hard, groaning. “Wh…what’s going on?”

“The guys outside are going to remove the windshield so we can get you out easier.” Johnny flashed him a lopsided smile. “Everything’s fine, all right?”

Bobby nodded slightly. Tears popped up in his eyes. “I…I didn’t mean to…do this. It was an accident.”

Johnny nodded, regretting that sometimes lessons had to be learned the hard way. “It’s okay, Bobby, no one’s mad at you. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Johnny heard the windshield pop. He peeked out from behind the cover, meeting Marco's eyes.

“Ready to blow this Popsicle stand?” Marco asked, lightly.

Roy walked up behind Marco, backboard in hand. He squatted down, maneuvering himself into the cab of the truck behind Bobby.

Carefully, the two paramedics shifted the injured teen onto the backboard and slid him out of the truck. Roy, Johnny, Marco and Hank carried the boy over to where Roy had the biophone and drug box set up. They gently set the victim down, Roy reaching for the biophone receiver. “Rampart, victim has been extricated from the truck.”

“51, what’s his condition?” Dr. Joe Early’s professional voice answered Roy.

“Victim is conscious and coherent. Stand by for a new set of vitals.” Roy set down the receiver, reaching for Bobby’s pulse as Johnny took the teen’s BP.

“Rampart, pulse is 75, BP is…” Roy looked at his partner.

Johnny glanced up at Roy, pulling the stethoscope off his head. “Still 110/60.”

Roy nodded. “Rampart, BP is holding at 110/60.”

“51,” Dr. Early ordered, “start IV D₅W-TKO and transport.”

“10-4, Rampart.”

The paramedics quickly started the IV and loaded Bobby into the waiting ambulance. Johnny jumped in the back and Roy handed him the drug box and biophone.

“See ya at Rampart.” Roy slammed the doors shut, slapping the door twice.

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

“I have no idea what his problem is, Dix. All I know is he forgot to do something this morning and he won't tell me what it is."

Nurse Dixie McCall nodded silently. Roy had walked up to her at the base station, shortly after his partner had escorted the victim into Treatment 1. Johnny hadn’t come out yet, so Roy was relating the events of the morning to her while he waited for Johnny.

“Well, you know Johnny, Roy. He’ll tell you just as soon as he wants to and not a minute before.”

Roy smiled slightly, “or a minute later either.” He chuckled, Dixie joining him.

“That’s right,” she agreed, but her face held an endearing look, showing just how much the young paramedic meant to her. Dixie glanced up, making eye contact with Roy. His face held the masculine version of the same look. Johnny might test his partner’s patience, but they were the closest of friends and always would be.

Roy turned his head to see the door to Treatment 1 open, and Johnny walk out. Spotting Roy, Johnny walked up, a somber expression on his face.

Roy’s smile faded. “Johnny? Is Bobby okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, he’s going to be fine…just a broken arm, a couple of broken ribs and a concussion. Doc thinks he’ll make a full recovery in a month or so.” Johnny looked at Dixie. “Hi, Dix.”

“Hi, Johnny.” She smiled.

Roy nodded, continuing to stare at Johnny’s serious expression. “That’s good to hear.” He pursed his lips. “You ready to go?” he asked.

Johnny nodded. “Yeah. See ya later, Dix.” Johnny waved and headed out.

“Bye Johnny,” she called after him. Dixie looked at Roy. “Have a good shift, Roy.”

Roy sighed, staring after his partner. “I hope so, Dix.” He smiled. “Bye.” Roy followed his partner out of Rampart to the squad.

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Roy asked. They were halfway back to the station and Johnny hadn’t said one word the whole way.

“No.”

“Why?” Roy asked, bewildered. You’ve always told me your problems before.

Johnny sighed. “Because you’ll laugh, Roy.”

Roy glanced over at his partner. “No, I won’t!”

Johnny nodded. “Oh, yes, you will. It's stupid.”

“Johnny, if it’s got you this bugged, it’s not stupid. Come on, you know talking about it will make you feel better.”

Johnny sighed again, this time in resignation. “Okay.” He paused, glancing out the window, his chin resting in his hand.

Roy strained to hear his partner as Johnny mumbled something behind his hand. “What?”

“I forgot to tap my Smokey the Bear poster before the shift started!” The words rushed out of Johnny’s mouth, a little louder than he intended.

“Is that all?” Roy’s eyes crinkled in confusion.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand!” Johnny rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Don’t you see? That’s my good luck charm! I tap it at the beginning of every shift. If I don’t, bad luck finds me every time.”

“How do you know that’s what gives you good luck?”

Johnny sighed. “Remember when I got hit by that car?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I forgot to tap it that day…and look what happened!”

Roy remembered back to that fateful day when Johnny had nearly been killed by a hit and run driver. “Johnny, you were lucky enough to survive that, so your luck couldn’t have been THAT bad.”

Johnny just stared at his partner in disbelief. “You just don’t get it do you? If I’d really been lucky and had remembered to tap my poster that morning, that accident would have never happened in the first place!”

Roy fixed his partner with a brief incredulous stare. Sometimes Johnny’s irrational tendencies never ceased to amaze him. He sighed in resignation. “Johnny, if you really believe this, then go tap it as soon as we get back, before you hurt yourself.”

Johnny just looked at his partner, disbelief still dominating his face. “Roy, sometimes I wonder about you. Isn’t it obvious? I CAN’T! It’s got to be at the START of the shift. Won’t do me any good now!” Johnny threw his hand in the air for emphasis.

Roy shook his head. I give up! This is what I get for trying to figure you out, Junior.

Neither man said a word the rest of the way back to the station.

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

Roy expertly backed the squad into the station next to the engine. Just as he turned off the motor, the tones sounded, freezing both paramedics in their seats. Johnny sighed, grabbing his helmet.

“Engine 51, dumpster fire. 1194 Barker Rd. 1-1-9-4 Barker Rd. Cross street 15^th, time out 10:50.”

Johnny replaced his helmet on its peg, and stepped out of the squad, as the engine company raced out of the day room.

Chet tossed a comment at Johnny as he trotted up to the engine. “See ya, Gage, some of us actually work for a living!”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Chet!” But the stocky fireman was already around to the other side of the engine.

Mike started the big rig’s engine, as Captain Stanley climbed into his seat beside the engineer. The engine roared out of the station, siren screaming.

Johnny sighed and followed Roy into the day room.

Roy looked up from his seat on the couch. “Did you tap your poster, yet?” he joked lightly. Roy was determined to improve his partner’s mood. It didn’t work.

Johnny fixed Roy with a dark look. “That’s not funny, Roy. See, I knew you’d make fun of me! I should’ve never told you!”

Roy sighed, his smile fading. “Look, Johnny, I’m sorry, but you have to admit, this is a little far out…even for you.”

Johnny groaned. “This is serious, Roy. I could really get hurt because of this, and all you can do is make jokes?”

“Johnny, be realistic!”

“I am Roy! You just don’t get it!” Johnny stormed out of the dayroom, miffed at the amused reaction of his partner. This isn’t funny at all! He lengthened his stride, crossing the doorway into the apparatus bay. The feeling of his left foot sliding out from under him only served to intensify his annoyance at the whole situation. Oh man…

“AHHHH!” Johnny’s echoing exclamation was followed by a loud crash.

Roy jumped six inches out of his seat at the sudden commotion from the other room. He leapt up, dashing into the apparatus bay. “Johnny?” He looked to his right to see his partner attempting to disentangle himself from a broom, amongst half the contents of the supply cabinet that had emptied all over him when he crashed into it. Roy reached down, helping him up. “Are you okay?”

Johnny jerked his arm out of Roy’s grasp. “Fine!”

Roy backed off, holding his hands out in surrender. He stared at his disheveled partner. Cleaning solutions were spilled all over Johnny’s shirt and pants and dripped from his hands. Roy sniffed, catching the distinct odor of lemon, radiating from the young paramedic. Roy’s mouth twitched as he unsuccessfully tried not to laugh. He quickly covered his face, a sudden coughing fit attacking him.

Johnny just rolled his eyes and glared at his partner. “Sure, Roy. It’s really funny. I’m tellin’ ya, bad luck just follows me everywhere unless I tap Smokey at the BEGINNING of my shift.”

Roy coughed harder, his face flushing.

Johnny’s glare intensified. He swiveled around, stalking away, a fresh lemon scent following him to the shower.

Roy could hear his partner mumbling under his breath as the blond paramedic’s coughs turned to chuckles.

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

Johnny stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, throwing it over his head and vigorously rubbing his hair dry. He paused, his left hand passing in front of his nose. He sniffed. Oh, man! “What do I have to do to get rid of that smell?” Johnny mumbled, crinkling his nose at the lemon scent still clinging to his hands. He wrapped the towel around his slim waist and stalked to his locker.

Johnny had no sooner finished dressing, when the tones went off.

“Squad 51. Man fallen from a tree. 4765 Willshire. 4-7-6-5 Willshire. Cross street McKinney, time out 11:50.

Hank acknowledged the call as his two paramedics dashed to the squad. “Squad 51, 10-4.”

Johnny dashed out of the locker room and saw that the engine had returned from its run while he’d been showering. And, from the smirk on Kelly's face, Johnny knew Roy had told them about his encounter with the supply cabinet. Johnny breezed past Chet who was headed for the locker room.

The mischievous fireman smiled at the dark look on Johnny’s face. He knew he should probably leave Johnny alone, considering the paramedic’s mood and what had happened to him, but, as a whiff of lemon reached Chet’s nose, he really couldn’t stop himself. “Nice aftershave, Gage. What is that? Eau de L’amon?” he asked, following the paramedic to the squad.

Marco and Mike snickered as Johnny briefly fixed Chet with a murderous look. “Why don’t you go take a flying leap off the hose tower, Chet?”

Chet just continued to egg Johnny on, following him across the apparatus bay. “That wouldn’t be as much fun. Man, Gage you’re really bent out of shape today aren’t you?”

Johnny sat down in the squad, slamming the door and ignoring Chet, but the stocky fireman wouldn’t be denied that easily.

Chet popped his head into the squad through the open window. “Where’s the snappy comeback, Gage? The Phantom is very disappointed by his pigeon.”

Johnny took the response slip from Roy and quickly rolled up his window without even looking at Chet, who had to jump back to avoid getting his head stuck in the rapidly closing window.

“Hey!”

The squad pulled out of the station, leaving Chet in its dust.

Hank shook his head at the stocky fireman. “Chet, that’s it. No more teasing or pranks on Gage today, got it?”

“But…Cap…” Chet started. He was silenced by Stanley’s glare.

“Kelly, do the words ‘permanent latrine detail’ mean anything to you?” Hank turned and stalked toward his office before Chet could answer. “Bunch of damn children…” Hank mumbled.

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

The squad rolled to a stop next to a modest blue house with a huge oak tree in the front yard. A middle-aged man was sitting on the ground next to the tree, holding his head tenderly.

Johnny and Roy jumped out of the squad, grabbing the drug box and biophone. They headed for the victim.

The man looked up, watching the two paramedics approach him. He sighed, leaning against the tree as he slowly got to his feet.

Johnny set down the biophone, reaching for the man, who was swaying slightly.

“Sir, I really think you should sit down and let us have a look at you.”

The man shook his head, groaning at the movement. “No…no, I’m fine.”

Johnny gently took the man’s wrist, palpating his pulse.

Roy squatted down, opening the drug box. “What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

“Samson, Gene Samson.” He blinked hard, groaning. “Oh, my head.”

Roy nodded. “Mr. Samson, what happened here?”

Gene smiled slightly. “I was climbing the tree and a branch broke, so I fell.” He craned his head up, staring at the large oak. “I was damn near the top too…what a wild ride down that was.”

Johnny shook his head. “Why were you up there in the first place?”

Mr. Samson sighed, glancing up. “Because of that.” He pointed.

Johnny and Roy’s eyes followed his gaze upward. Far up the tree, perched on a narrow limb, a calico cat stared down at them. It mewed pitifully.

Johnny shook his head. “You should have called us, sir, instead of climbing up there yourself.”

Gene sighed. “I’ve climbed trees all my life, I didn’t see the reason for bugging you.” He backed away from the two firemen. “Look, fellas, I appreciate you trying to help me, but, really, I’m okay.” Gene moved back one more step.

“Whoa!” Johnny exclaimed. He grabbed Gene’s right arm, Roy grabbing the left, as Gene’s knees buckled. “I think you need to sit down, Mr. Samson, and let us look at you.”

Gene nodded, slowly sinking to the ground.

Johnny again palpated his pulse and checked his pupils while Roy took his BP. Roy pulled the stethoscope off, looking up at the tree. “We can’t just leave that poor cat there.”

Johnny sighed, grabbing the HT. “LA, Squad 51. Request you send Engine 51 to this location, non Code R.”

“Squad 51,” dispatch acknowledged.

Roy grabbed the biophone, quickly opening it and attaching the antenna. “Rampart, this is Squad 51.”

“Go ahead, 51.” The deep, commanding voice of Dr. Brackett answered him.

“Rampart we have a male, age…” Roy looked at Mr. Samson. “How old are you sir?”

Gene closed his eyes, leaning back against the tree. “42.”

“Rampart, age 42. Victim fell approximately 20 feet out of a tree. Victim is dizzy, weak, and complaining of a headache. There are no other apparent injuries at this time. Vitals are: BP 130/80, pulse 82, respirations 15.”

“51, what’s his pupilary response?”

Roy looked at Johnny questioningly.

“Sluggish but reactive,” Johnny responded.

Roy nodded, lifting the biophone receiver once again to his face. “Rampart, pupils are sluggish but reactive.”

“51 start an IV, D₅W-TKO and transport immediately.” Brackett ordered.

“10-4, Rampart,” Roy replied, reaching into the drug box. He glanced up as Engine 51 rolled to a stop behind the squad.

Hank jumped down, trotting up to the paramedics. “What’s up, Roy?”

Roy smiled slightly and pointed up the tree. “That’s up, Cap, and it can’t get down.”

Hank looked up at the calico tabby and sighed. “Nothing like the heroic work of a firefighter.” He turned back towards the engine. “Kelly, Lopez! Grab the extension ladder and come here!”

Chet and Marco walked up, ladder in tow.

Hank pointed up the tree to the stranded cat. “You know what to do, guys.”

Chet rolled his eyes. “Another cat?” He looked at Marco as they placed the ladder. “How come these cats can get UP trees and not DOWN?”

Marco shrugged. “I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m holding the ladder and YOU are going up after the cat.”

“Why me?” Chet questioned.

“Because the last time I rescued a cat, I had battle scars on my face for a week!” Marco replied. He grabbed the ladder, pulling back and securing it. “YOU’RE going.”

Chet rolled his eyes and climbed up the ladder. “Kitty, kitty, kitty," he soothed. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Johnny briefly glanced up the tree at Chet, smiling. Just rewards.

Chet reached the top of the ladder and looked upward. The stranded cat was still a good 10 feet above him. Chet sighed, grabbing the branch directly above him. He climbed carefully up to the scared cat. Chet held out his hand. “Come here, kitty, kitty, I won’t hurt you.” Man, Gage is going to have a field day with this! “Come on, kitty.”

The cat stared at him from the end of the branch, not budging.

Chet sighed. He edged toward the cat, holding his hand out. He braced his foot on the branch below him and used the leverage to scoot across the branch he was sitting on. Chet looked ahead to the scared cat. He paused, holding his hand out to the kitty, which bristled at him and hissed loudly. Chet recoiled, shaking his head. He once again scooted toward the cat. Stupid cat! First it gets stuck up here, and then hisses at me when I…Chet’s foot slipped as the branch it was braced on cracked loudly and broke free. Chet grabbed the branch above him and looked down, watching the other branch plummet. “LOOK OUT!”

Johnny had just helped lift the victim into a stretcher when Chet’s warning went up. Johnny had enough time to raise his hands, and the branch struck him square in the head. “OOWW!” Johnny’s legs buckled and he sat down hard.

Roy looked up from his crouch over the victim. “Johnny? You okay?”

Johnny rubbed the top of his head, pulling away a bloody hand. “I…I think so.”

Hank crouched down by the young paramedic. “John? You sure, pal?”

Johnny motioned for Hank to help him stand. “I’m okay, Cap.” He touched his head again, and then stared at his bloody fingers. “Damn!”

Roy eyed his partner for a moment. “Why don’t you ride in the ambulance and I’ll bring in the squad?”

Johnny rubbed the top of his head. “Okay.” He walked towards the ambulance and the victim, who was already inside.

Roy grabbed his arm, handing the dark haired paramedic a sterile compress. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Johnny sighed. “Man! This really isn’t my day.”

<51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**51**>

Johnny and Roy accompanied the stretcher into Rampart, encountering Dixie in the hallway.

“Treatment 2,” she pointed, crinkling her eyes at the sight of Johnny, one hand on the stretcher and one hand on his head. “Johnny? What happened?” Dixie walked around the stretcher and grabbed a BP cuff.

Mr. Samson was quickly transferred to the exam table and the two orderlies wheeled the stretcher from the room.

Roy smiled slightly. “Oh, Johnny had an unlucky encounter with a tree branch.”

“Unlucky is right,” Johnny mumbled, pulling the bloody compress from his head.

Dixie smiled back, shaking her head. She pointed at the young paramedic. “Don’t leave until someone takes a look at that.” She bent her head over the patient, quickly pumping up the BP cuff.

Johnny shook his head. “No, Dix, it’s okay. I don’t need a doctor, really.” He sighed as she waved him off.

Brackett walked into the treatment room, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Don’t need a doctor for what?” He pulled out his penlight, examining the victim’s pupils. “Hello, I’m Dr. Brackett,” he smiled reassuringly at Mr. Samson.

Dixie pulled the stethoscope from her ears. “130/80. Pulse is 80 respirations are 15.” She glanced over at Johnny. “Our daring young paramedic had an unfortunate encounter with a tree branch…I think the branch won.”

Brackett smiled, pulling his stethoscope from his coat pocket. “I think I saw Joe Early go into the staff lounge. I’m sure he can look Johnny over. Carol and I can handle this, Dix. Why don’t you and Roy take Johnny to find Dr. Early?”

Gene Samson looked over at the two paramedics. “Hey, thanks you guys, I appreciate all the help.”

Both men smiled. “You’re welcome, Mr. Samson,” Johnny replied. “Take care of yourself okay?” He paused, meeting Dixie’s stern look. Johnny raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” He followed Roy out of the room, Dixie hot on his heels.