A Good Day to Stay in Bed
By The Twits
It was only 7:40 AM, but Roy DeSoto was not surprised to find himself the last man on his shift to arrive for duty. Roy had woken up that morning to find a blanket of fog so dense that he couldn’t see the house next door from his kitchen window. Eight-year-old Chris had raced downstairs and begged his mother to let him play outside in the “spooky” yard before school. Joanne had fretted about their broken dryer and the fact that the laundry would never dry outside on the line in weather like this. Five-year-old Jennifer had insisted that it must still be night time because she couldn’t see outside and refused to get out of bed.
Roy had left that battle to Joanne and headed for work without breakfast, fearing the low visibility would mean a slow commute and busy morning. But traffic wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated and he arrived with twenty minutes to spare. Johnny was already at his locker. The rest of the men were gathered with the C-Shift in the day room.
“Hey.” Roy spoke to his partner as he prepared for the day. “Quite a morning, huh?”
Johnny shook his head. “It is not going to be a good day. That’s for sure.”
“Well, the fog’ll clear soon, I’m sure. If we can just get over the early morning hump, we’ll be okay.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Roy looked up and saw that Johnny was now sitting on the bench, staring at a clipping from the newspaper.
“What’s that?” he asked, knowing it had something to do with Johnny’s outlook for the day.
“Huh?”
“The thing you’re staring at? The clipping?”
“Oh, this. You aren’t going to believe this. I mean, really, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Man, I wish I knew what it meant.”
Roy just shook his head. “Well, if you decide you want to tell me, just let me know.” He headed for the door.
“Tell you what? And where are you going?”
“Tell me what you’re staring at. And I’m going to the day room for some coffee.”
“Geesh, we start a conversation, and you just walk out in the middle?”
Roy smiled, sat down, and folded his hands on his lap. Looking at his friend, he said, “Continue.”
Now it was Johnny’s turn to shake his head. “You’re strange sometimes, you know?”
“Yes. Now what does that little piece of paper say that has you so perplexed?”
“This?” Johnny held up the clipping. “This is today’s horoscope.”
Roy got up and headed to the door.
“Don’t you want to know what it says?” Johnny almost jumped in his way.
“No,” Roy said as he took a step to go around him.
“No, really, don’t you want to know?”
Roy gave up and sat back down. “Okay, sure. I want to know. What exactly does the horoscope say that has you all worked up?”
Johnny smiled in victory. “Okay, well, here’s your horoscope. It says, ‘Be careful today, there’s trouble ahead.’”
Roy just waited, knowing that his partner couldn’t be this worked up over that. There had to be more.
Johnny continued. “Not good, but typical horoscope stuff, right? Okay, here’s where it gets weird. Here’s Cap’s horoscope. ‘Be careful today, there’s trouble ahead.’”
Roy laughed. “Someone made a typo at the paper, that’s all.”
“Maybe. Everyone’s horoscope is exactly the same. ‘Be careful today, there’s trouble ahead.’” Johnny paused, “Everyone’s but mine.”
Roy held out his hand. “Let me see that.”
Johnny handed him the clipping. Sure enough, every horoscope except Gage’s said the same thing, which made Johnny’s stand out even more.
“Avoid other people today. It would be a good day to stay in bed.”
If Roy was going to comment, he didn’t get the chance. The klaxons demanded their attention.
“Station 51, unknown type rescue at St. Mary’s Cemetery. 289 Church Street, cross street Elm.”
It was only 7:50. Technically the call belonged to the C-Shift. But an ‘unknown type rescue’ could take ten minutes or half the day. Since A-Shift was all present, they volunteered to man the call, pulling out to the sound of thanks and promises to return the favor by Hookrader and the other men on C-Shift.
* * * E! * * *
The cemetery was covered in a shroud of fog. With the limited visibility, Roy worried that they may have difficulty locating the problem. But those worries disappeared as soon as he opened the squad door. The sounds of the woman screaming pierced through the fog and the quiet neighborhood.
“Help me! Oh God, somebody help me!”
From somewhere in the fog, an elderly man appeared. The men gathered around him.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said to Captain Stanley and the others. “She’s been screaming like that for fifteen minutes now.”
“What’s wrong? Do you know?” Stanley asked.
“Not a clue,” the man replied shaking his head, “but it sure don’t sound good. The wife and I were just out for our morning walk when we heard those screams, so I told her, ‘Martha, you go call the fire department, I’ll wait here.’ So she did and I did and here we are.”
Mike, Chet, and Marco had already headed toward the screams. Roy and Johnny were grabbing some of their equipment as Cap tried to get some more information.
“Has she said anything else? Do you think she’s hurt? Did you call the police?”
“Why would I call the police? The police can’t do nothin’ ‘bout ghosts. I figure the fire department though, you guys could maybe foam them down or somethin’, you know?”
Roy and Johnny looked at each other and headed in the same direction as the others, leaving their captain to deal with the imagination of the Good Samaritan.
* * * E! * * *
Even in the thick fog, the woman in distress was not difficult to find. Her screams for help led the men to a plot near the middle of the cemetery. Roy stopped in his tracks when he got close enough to see through the heavy haze. There in front of him, crying and screaming for help, was a woman buried up to her hips, clinging to a head stone.
“Oh, God. Help me! Please help me! Somebody get me out of here!”
Johnny motioned to the others to stand back as he approached. They had no idea what had happened and they didn’t want to make the situation any worse. Gage carefully made his way up behind the headstone so he was facing the woman. He crouched down to get as close to eye level as he could.
“Ma’am, it’s okay. We’re with the fire department. We’ll get you out. Are you hurt? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Oh, God. Please, God. Help me! Don’t leave me here.”
Johnny reached out to touch her hand. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna leave you here. We’ll get you out, but I need to know what happened. How did this happen? Can you tell me?”
The woman grabbed Johnny’s hand in a fiercely tight grip and just sobbed louder, screaming again for them to help. The paramedic looked at the others and shrugged his shoulders before trying again.
As Johnny tried to calm down the trapped woman, Roy contacted the hospital while Mike, Chet and Marco began to plan how to get the woman free.
“Ma’am, what’s your name?” Gage asked. The sobbing continued. “Can you tell me your name?” There was no response but more cries to be freed. The woman, however, had not loosened her grip on her rescuer.
Johnny needed to do something to break through the hysteria. He reached forward with his free hand and took hold of the woman’s chin, turning her face to look directly into his.
“Now listen,” he demanded. “You are going to be all right, but you have to stop crying. This is not doing you any good. Before we can get you out, we have to know how you got in there, so stop crying and talk to me.”
The woman looked into his face and continued to shake, but spoke directly to Johnny for the first time. “He has me and he won’t let go! Make him let go!”
“Who has you?” The paramedic was beginning to suspect that they were going to have to go forward with limited information.
“My grandfather. He always was a mean old man when he was alive and now he’s trying to pull me down into hell with him. Don’t let him. I don’t want to die!”
“You are not going to die and I won’t let you go anywhere, okay? What’s your name?”
“Alice. Get me out of here, please. Hurry before it's too late.”
Johnny tested the ground between where he was kneeling and Alice. He felt a give that kept him from moving in any closer. He knew he may already be too close. He looked up at the others. The men had gathered shovels and rope, waiting for the word from Johnny to proceed. Cap was near the headstone, keeping a safe distance, holding a marble angel in his hand. A metal can and a paint brush sat near his feet.
“Alice,” Johnny tried again. “Were you trying to put the angel back on the headstone?”
Between sobs Alice shook her head. “It didn’t fall off. It’s new. My mother bought it and asked me to come here and attach it to the headstone. I was just starting when he reached up and grabbed my legs and pulled me down. Oh God, please help me.”
“Okay, we’re going to help you now. Alice, I don’t think anyone or anything grabbed you, okay? I think the earth just gave way. That can happen sometimes. Earth can settle and run off water can create holes underground. We’re going to dig you out, okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“My ankle hurts. I think he’s squeezing it.”
Kind of like you’re squeezing my wrist, Johnny thought as he took her other wrist with his free hand and checked her pulse.
“Hey, Roy. Can you toss me the stuff so I can get some vitals and see if Rampart will let us get some meds on board here? We’re gonna have to dig her out rather than pull. Her ankle may be broken.”
Roy got the equipment for Johnny while Mike and Marco began to figure out the best way to dig without causing a further cave in. Chet approached Cap, who stood over Johnny and Alice, marble angel still in hand.
“Uh, Cap?” Chet whispered.
Captain Stanley looked at his man. “What?”
“Do you think we really should be digging here? I mean, this is a cemetery after all. There are dead people under those shovels, you know?”
“What exactly do you think we should do? Leave her here perhaps?”
“Well no, I don’t mean… it’s just … Hey, Cap? Maybe I should go back and watch over the engine and squad, you know? You never know what might happen to them in a neighborhood like this.”
“A neighborhood like this? What, some little old lady is going to steal the engine? Get your butt back there and help. And, Chet, not one word to further upset this lady, right?”
Chet said nothing. Nor did he move.
“Chet?” Cap pushed.
“Right, Cap. Just don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
* * * E! * * *
It took the men twenty minutes to get the woman free. Rampart had authorized a tranquilizer, after which the process had proceeded much more quickly and quietly. Despite Chet’s fears, there was no sign of paranormal activity. Still holding the angel, Captain Stanley approached Roy as the ambulance attendants loaded the woman into the ambulance that had been able to pull up close to the gravesite.
“Is she okay?” Cap wondered.
“Oh yeah. The ankle’s probably only sprained. I’m gonna ride with her since we gave her the tranquilizer, but she’ll be fine. You can give Johnny the angel to bring with him so we can give it back to her.”
“Send Gage in with her.”
Cap’s instructions took Roy by surprise. He never got himself involved in those decisions, unless he thought someone was hurting.
“Why, did Johnny hurt himself? Is he okay? I didn’t notice anything.”
“No, he’s fine. Send Gage. I want you here to help with the clean up.”
Roy had no idea what was going on, but he could find no reason to contradict his captain so he just nodded and went to tell his partner.
Roy came back to find Cap talking to Chet. “Go stay with the engine. Make sure no one messes with her.”
“Huh? You told me I was being stupid before. Now that the fog’s started to clear you’re worried about the engine? Why?”
“Just do it, Kelly.”
Chet grabbed some equipment and headed back toward the entrance. Roy, Mike, and Marco looked at each other and made sure to avoid looking at their boss.
DeSoto picked up the oxygen tank and turned toward the path when Cap stopped him.
“Roy, come over here.” The paramedic stopped, put the tank down, and turned to face Captain Stanley.
“Okay, Cap. What’s going on? Do you want me to take that angel?”
“Yes. I would like nothing better than to have you take this angel. But you can’t.”
Now all three men were looking at the captain.
“Huh?” was all Roy could make himself say.
“You can’t take it, because it’s stuck to my hand. The damn stuff she was using must be pretty good, because the thing is stuck to my hand.”
The stunned paramedic looked at his captain. "Huh?"
Cap started to reply, stopped himself and sighed loudly. "Is that all you can say, DeSoto?" He was starting to feel more frustrated with each passing minute.
"Sorry, Cap." Roy could see that his superior was not joking and he was far from amused. "Guess this calls for a trip to Rampart."
"No!"
Marco and Mike looked at each other and tried to hide their grins. If possible Cap was worse about going to the hospital than Gage was.
"We don't carry anything on the squad that will break down strong adhesives. However, they do have something in the ER that’ll work."
"I'd rather not go to Rampart."
"I understand but I don't see any other way."
"Can't we stop and buy something, and do it at the station?"
"No. Cap, if we did that and it didn't work or caused you further injury, that would not be good. For any of us."
"I know, I know. All right, Roy, are you sure they can get this thing unstuck from me?"
DeSoto stifled a laugh. "Yeah, Cap. I'm positive."
"Fine," he grumbled. "It's not funny."
The other two firefighters quickly gathered the last of the equipment and headed for the truck. They didn't want their captain to see that they were laughing at his predicament.
"What about Kelly? I don't want him to know. He'll . . . well, you know Chet."
"Yeah, Cap. I'm sure Mike and Marco will keep quiet. I'll just tell Chet you're riding in with me to return the angel."
"He'll be suspicious. He'll never let me live this down. We need something to satisfy him."
Roy chuckled at his captain's growing paranoia. "Well, if you’re holding the statue, it can't get broken should I have to suddenly stop. Right?"
"True. Thanks, Roy."
"Shall we then?"
Hank Stanley followed his paramedic to the squad. Roy opened the door and once the captain was inside, he pulled Mike to the side and explained Cap's request. The engineer nodded and climbed into the driver seat.
"Engine 51, 10-7. Accompanying Squad 51 on follow-up to Rampart General," Stoker informed the dispatcher.
"10-4, Engine 51."
The engineer pulled out and followed the squad to the hospital.
"What's going on? Why are we going to Rampart? What did Gage do this time?"
"Just making a delivery, Chet."
"Aw man. Couldn't Roy do it? Why did Cap have to go too?"
"Chet, would you cut it out? If Cap wanted to personally make sure the lady got her angel back who are we to argue?"
"We never did that before. Why - "
"She was really freaked out, Chet. I know I felt bad for her."
Chet mumbled something and then quieted down. "I just hope our next call isn't so...weird." The call still had him spooked. Staring out the window he was glad to see that the sky was brightening and the fog would be completely gone soon.
Marco laughed. "I know what you mean, Chet. Starting the day off in a fog-covered cemetery is a little hard to take. C-Shift owes us big time for this one!"
"Let's hope the day doesn't get any stranger."
"Awww, Mike, what'd you have to go and jinx us for?"
"Grow up, Chet. I didn't jinx us."
The stocky Irishman was about to reply but a look from the oft silent engineer stopped him. He thought it was a better idea to remain silent.
* * * E! * * *
"You know, Roy, your partner is going to have just as much fun with this as Kelly."
"I doubt it. He's had some pretty weird things happen to him over the last few years. A friendly reminder should be all that's necessary to keep him quiet. Cap, you okay?"
"My hand is cramping and starting to get really itchy."
"We'll be there soon."
* * * E! * * *
Dixie McCall set a stack of charts down on the counter and smiled as she saw the two firefighters approaching. "Hi, Hank, Roy. What a beautiful angel!"
"Hi, Dix."
"Hi, Dixie. Yeah it is but I'd like to get rid of it quickly."
"Well, set it down. It's not yours?"
"It belongs to the lady Johnny brought in," said Roy.
"Go on and set it down over here, Hank," she said pointing to an area beside the base station.
"I'd like to but I can't."
"Why not?" she asked, clearly puzzled by his reluctance to let go.
"It's - " Roy began but was interrupted by his captain.
"It's stuck to my hand."
Dixie looked back and forth between the two for confirmation. "You're serious aren't you."
"Afraid so."
"The victim was gluing it to the headstone at the cemetery and I guess the glue wasn't fully dry when I picked it up. I thought she'd like to hang on to it but - "
"Instead, you're hanging on to it for her? How thoughtful," she grinned.
"Well I didn't plan to hold it permanently. If you know what I mean."
Dixie laughed. "Yes, I do. Roy, take him into Treatment Room Three and I'll go and get Mike."
* * * E! * * *
Dr. Morton entered the treatment room with a huge smile. "You know, I was certain that Dixie was kidding when she said it was you, Captain Stanley. I thought for sure it had to be Gage."
Hank sighed. "No, it really is me. Even I can't believe it."
"Any idea what type of glue she was using?"
"No, the can was unmarked. We should've brought it along."
The doctor carefully examined the firefighter's hand and the marble angel attached to it. "I think we can remove your little friend here in no time."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Let me get the acetone. I'll be right back."
Hank visibly relaxed. It was as if the weight of an entire marble mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he muttered.
"Sounds like the same solvent he used on a patient we had a while back. Man glued a model ship to his hands. Absolutely refused to allow us take it apart or break it away from his hands. Said it was a replica of a ship he sailed in his youth. It meant the world to him and Dr. Morton managed to remove it intact."
"That's good news, Roy."
The door opened slowly and Johnny stepped into the room. "Dix said you were in here. What's going on?"
"Uh - "
"Well - "
He cracked a smile when he saw the angel. "That was really nice of you to bring that in. Alice will be glad to get it back. Said she was going to let her mother take care of it this time. She's feeling a lot better now."
"Well, she can't have it just yet."
A puzzled look crossed Johnny's face. Roy spoke up to explain. "She was gluing it to the headstone."
"Yeah, I know."
"The stuff hadn't dried when Cap picked it up." He gave his partner a meaningful look.
"Okay." Gage looked between the two and then his eyes settled on the marble figurine. "Oh! Geez, sounds like something that would happen to me, Cap."
"Thanks, John, that makes me feel a lot better," he sighed.
Roy looked at his partner. "Chet doesn't know and Cap wants it to stay that way."
"That isn't going to be easy." A dark look from Hank and he quickly added, "But he won't hear it from me!"
The sound of the door opening and closing brought their attention around. Mike Morton began gathering supplies. "Okay, out you two. Stop pestering my patient. This won't take long."
* * * E! * * *
Twenty minutes later, Captain Stanley emerged from the treatment room freed from his marble companion. "Ready to go, gentlemen?"
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison. The three men departed with a wave to the head nurse.
* * * E! * * *
"It's about time! What took you so long? How could it take so much time to drop off a statue?"
"Kelly - be quiet. I don't know about you but I am ready to go home now. I need a good strong cup of coffee."
"Everything okay, Cap?"
"Yeah, Mike. The mission was a success."
"Hey, Cap? What'd you do to your hand? Was that bandage there this morning? I don't remember - "
"Chet - "
"I know. Be quiet," he said sullenly.
"Thank you."
Mike had a hard time keeping the mirth from his voice as he called the engine back in service and informed dispatch they were returning to station. Marco reached over and patted his friend's shoulder. "It'll be okay. The day is still young."
"Don't you jinx us too, Marco." That statement elicited a couple of snickers as Stoker pulled the engine out into early morning traffic behind the squad.
* * * E! * * *
The ride back to the station in the squad was much quieter. "So, Roy, with a start like this what do you think our day is gonna be like?"
Roy shook his head. He got out of the squad after having backed it into its customary space in the garage. As the two paramedics entered the dayroom, Roy offered, "Ask me that again after we have some coffee."
Gage laughed and set to making a large pot of the brew. Roy sat down and began to look through the morning paper that had been delivered to the station. A few minutes later the rest of the crew filed into the dayroom. The eagerly anticipated coffee was well received. A content silence filled the room as each man savored his own cup. However their peace was shattered as the tones sounded.
"Station 51, unknown type rescue at Flander's Farm. 1875 Warlock Lane. 1875 Warlock Lane. Time out 09:35."
"Here we go again," said Chet as the men abandoned their coffee and hurried to the trucks.
* * * E! * * *
Roy drove the squad down a dirt road past a wooden plank fence, the engine close behind. When they got near a house and barn, the trucks were brought to a stop. Johnny and Roy met up with the others as a woman with graying hair hurried toward them from across a grassy field.
“Hey! He’s out this way!” She waved for them to follow.
Not knowing exactly what they were up against, the paramedics and engine crew took most of the squad’s emergency equipment and trotted in an effort to catch up to the woman.
“Man, for an older lady. . . she sure can. . . run,” Chet commented, somewhat winded. He was leaning to the right as he carried the trauma box and rushed to keep up.
“I just wish she’da told us. . . what was wrong before taking off,” Johnny added.
As they came to the edge at the other end of the field, Roy pointed. “Looks like we got our answer.”
Hank and his men slowed as the woman ahead of them came to a stop just in front of what used to be a pond, but was now a mucky, murky mess resembling dark quicksand. A man, also with graying hair, was up to his hips in the mud with a white duck dirtied from the substance cradled in his arms. A partially rusted green pickup truck sat parked nearby on the dirt road that lined the parameter of the field.
Chet made a quick observation to Marco as they took in the sight. “That road goes all the way around here from where the trucks are. I wonder why she didn’t just tell us to drive over.”
Overhearing the comment, the woman gasped. “Oh, where is my mind at times? I didn’t even think about that.”
The firemen all stared at the woman a moment in disbelief as they caught their breath. Her trapped husband explained. “Her mind’s not as sharp as it used to be. She tends to do everything the hard way now-a-days.”
“At least I had the presence of mind not to go into that mess after a bird.”
“He has a name, if you recall. Buck.”
The woman opened her mouth to respond when Hank Stanley interrupted. “All right, all right. You two can sort it out later. It looks to me like you’ve got bigger problems. You and the duck look to be stuck.”
The man nodded. “That we are. Or at least I am now. Buck’s just stuck with me because his wings are too covered in dried mud. He won’t fly.”
“Okay.” Captain Stanley assessed the situation a moment while Roy asked the man another question.
“Can you move your legs in there at all?”
“Nope. I’m really stuck. My feet have sunk down into the stuff, I think. I have hip waders on, but it went inside them as well.”
Hank looked to his men. “Mike, go back to the engine and bring it around. We’ll need the ladders to get over to him. Roy, why don’t you get the squad. We may as well have both trucks handy in case.”
Both men nodded and trotted back across the field. The others stood at the edge of the muck to figure out how they’d position the ladders to reach the man.
“Just sit tight and we’ll have you out of there. . .uh. . .”
The man looked at Johnny and grinned. “I guess I can’t do much else. And the name’s Chuck.”
“Chuck. Okay, Chuck.” Buck and Chuck. What else with a day like today?
Captain Stanley motioned with his hands as he explained a strategy to the others. “We can lay a ladder across the muck horizontally on either side of Chuck and Buck, so each end is resting on solid ground.” He looked at Johnny. “You and Roy can crawl out to them with a safety belt. One of ya get the duck, while the other gets Chuck set up to get out of the muck.”
“And on his way in his truck,” Marco added.
The men all looked at Lopez and groaned inwardly.
* * * E! * * *
Once Mike and Roy brought the trucks around, the plan started without a hitch. Johnny slowly crawled across one of the ladders, while Roy went along on the other. Since Chuck was facing Gage, he handed Buck to him with outstretched arms. With the duck cradled under one arm, Johnny slowly made his way across the remainder of the ladder toward firmer ground. Twice he teetered and had to pause.
I hope I don’t lose my balance and fall in the muck with the duck. It would be just my luck. Man, now I’m doin’ it, too. This place is gonna have us all sounding like Mother Goose.
After a couple of minutes, Johnny had made his way to safety. He released Buck, then turned to watch the others free Chuck.
Roy had handed a safety belt to the trapped man and Chuck secured it around his waist. With a rope tied off to the belt, the engine crew pulled in an effort to bring Chuck up out of the muck. Roy leaned forward slightly, trying to lift up on the victim as the others continued to tug on the rope.
I hope Chuck’s weight doesn’t pull me into this muck face first, Roy thought.
The men all grunted as they worked to get the suction holding the man in broken. Johnny carefully made his way across the same ladder Roy was on and helped to lift up on the trapped man. Finally they were able to free Chuck’s lower half and the paramedics maneuvered him onto the ladder.
The man glanced at his wet and muddy stocking feet. “I suppose asking you guys to find my hip boots is a little much.”
Roy looked at where Chuck had been stuck. The muck had already covered up the spot, hiding any sign that anyone had ever been in there. DeSoto nodded. “Yeah.”
Johnny led the way off the ladder, Chuck in between the two paramedics as they crawled across to the other side. Roy made sure their recently rescued victim didn’t end up falling back in the murky muck underneath them.
With all eyes on the three men stepping onto firm ground again, no one paid any attention to Buck. That is, not until Chet noticed the attention wanting bird make an unprovoked charge at them from several feet away. Surprised, he could think of only one thing to say.
“Duck!”
The men quickly looked around to see what they were supposed to be ducking from, while Mike stooped down, figuring he could find out afterwards. From his lower vantage point, he saw Buck coming straight toward him. Stoker reached out to stop the bird, when it nipped at his fingers. The engineer jumped back and found himself flailing his arms as he lost his balance and toppled backwards into the murky, mucky pond between the two ladders.
“Mike!” Chet and Marco quickly scrambled on to an end of each ladder and grabbed for Stoker, who’d already sunk into the mess backside first. The engineer spit and spat as they tugged to get his wet, muddy body upright. Hank reached out and, grabbing his right hand, helped Mike back to solid ground while the other two came to assist. Mike was a mess from head to toe.
“You all right, pal?”
“Yeah,” Mike coughed. “I don’t think I swallowed any of that stuff. . .”
Suddenly another yell from Chet interrupted them. “Oh yuck!”
Captain Stanley frowned at the fireman’s outburst he figured was directed at Mike.
Kelly shrugged as he grimaced and lifted one foot in an attempt to examine the sole of his shoe. “Sorry, Cap, but I stepped in some duck doo.”
Hank shook his head, then brought his attention back to Mike. Johnny was now beside him and checking out his condition.
“After we rinse him off with a hose, why don’t you guys take him in to Rampart just to be safe.”
“Sure, Cap.”
Chuck sat on the ground near Roy. “I forgot to tell you guys, Buck doesn’t like being ignored.”
* * * E! * * *
Since neither Chuck nor the duck were injured, the firemen loaded their equipment back on the trucks and prepared to leave. Roy got in on the driver’s side of the squad as Mike slid in from the passenger side, a yellow blanket wrapped around him as he shivered. Johnny started to join them when he took one look at where he was to sit and frowned.
“Man, what a mess!”
“What?”
“Marco may have hosed you down, but you still sorta left a trail of muck, Mike.”
Roy waited as his partner grabbed a turn out coat from one of the compartments and placed it on the seat after folding the coat up. With a satisfied grin, Johnny climbed in and sat on the clean surface. As Roy put the squad into gear, Gage commented, “You know, I thought for sure if anyone was gonna fall in that muck, it would’ve been me. Maybe my luck’s changin’.”
“Or ours is,” Mike said. “First Cap, now this. . .”
Johnny and Roy thought back to the horoscopes, then exchanged a glance, neither sure what the other was thinking.
Nah, they each thought to themselves. Nobody’s horoscopes can all be the same. . .that had to be a misprint.
* * * E! * * *
“Well, shall we go?” Hank asked his remaining men. “Hopefully Stoker will be okay.” He addressed Chuck. “I’d say next time your duck--”
“Buck.”
“Buck. Well, next time Buck gets stuck in the muck, I’d say call for a professional to get him out for you.”
“Oh, I will don’t worry. Thank you for your help. ”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
Chuck climbed in his pickup truck where his wife and the duck were waiting. He started the engine and pulled away.
Chet shook his head. “Good thing it was just Chuck and his duck Buck who were stuck in the muck with no luck and not the truck.”
“Kelly.”
“By the way, what was his wife’s name? Anyone know?”
Hank Nodded. “Edna.”
* * * E! * * *
Doctor Brackett removed the stethoscope from Mike’s shirtless back and his own ears, and folded his arms across his chest, letting the equipment hang from his neck. “Well, Mike, everything sounds okay. You lungs seem fine.”
Stoker nodded as Roy handed him his shirt. “I’m pretty sure I spit out any of the stuff that got in my mouth.”
“How do you feel?”
“Wet, kinda dirty, wet and cold. But otherwise fine.”
“A hot shower and clean uniform’ll take care of that.” The doctor smiled and addressed the paramedics. “Wasn’t your captain just in here with Doctor Morton not too long ago?”
Johnny nodded. “Yep. It’s turned out to be that kind of start to the day, Doc.”
“Sounds like one of those days where you’d all be better off staying in bed.”
* * * E! * * *
As they filed out of the treatment room, Johnny turned to face the other two. “You know, Brackett may have a point.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think the fire department would agree to it.”
Being an optimist, Mike really didn't believe the whole day could go wrong. But a little nagging voice in his head told him it was probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut. . .just in case what Chet said earlier, about being a jinx, was possible.
* * * E! * * *
“Hi, guys.” Dixie smiled as the three firemen walked up to the base station.
“Hey,” Johnny replied, while Roy just nodded his head, and the slightly embarrassed engineer gave a quick, almost timid, smile.
Johnny went about getting a few supplies while Roy chatted with Rampart’s head nurse.
“How’s your day going?” he asked while leaning on the counter.
“We’ve been pretty slow. If it wasn’t for you two, we’d only be receiving civilians bringing themselves in.”
Somewhat surprised, Roy asked, “What?”
Johnny lifted his head casually with mild interest in the conversation, taking a quick break from counting gauze’s.
“No other squad’s been in yet this morning.”
“You’re kidding?” Roy asked in shock. “It’s almost eleven o’clock!”
“I know. But it’s true.” Dixie smirked and turned her attention to the quiet engineer standing beside Roy. “How are you, Mike?”
“Okay.” He answered softly, feeling way out of his element standing around the hospital corridor.
Doctor Early walked up and smiled at the not-so-frequent patient standing near the paramedics. “Well, hello. What brings you in today?”
Wishing he could sink once again into a pond full of muck, Mike faced the jovial doctor and replied, “Nothing serious; just had a little fall.”
Seeing his friend’s unease Roy piped up, smiling, “He’ll be fine, Doc, just needs a nice long warm shower and a change of uniform.”
“A bite to eat might help, too.” Johnny joined in.
All heads turned to the lean man. A few groans and some eye rolling went along with the stares.
“What? I’m hungry,” came Gage’s response to the obvious amusement of his friends.
“You ready?” his partner asked.
“Hm…”
“Let’s get back to the barn then.”
Johnny scooped up the box of supplies and waved his goodbye to his hospital colleague’s, joining his crewmates walking down the hall and out to the squad.
* * * E! * * *
Rooting through the refrigerator, Marco emerged with an armful of ingredients to start making lunch for himself and his co-workers. While humming the latest Jim Croce song, he placed the items on the counter and then bent at the waist, reaching into a lower cupboard and taking out the cutting board. Moving to his left, he pulled open a drawer and grabbed a knife. Giving the drawer a hip check, he then pulled out a frying pan and placed it onto the stovetop.
Today’s lunch would be a hot taco salad. He figured Mike would enjoy a warm meal over his original plan of ‘make-your-own-sandwiches-and-salads’. Unwrapping the ground beef from its cellophane and placing it into the skillet, he neglected turning on the heat and turned his attention to the vegetables on the counter instead. Picking up a couple of cooking onions, he placed them on the cutting board and sliced off their heads. Walking over to the garbage pail, he threw the heads in and proceeded to remove the skins, then returned to the counter.
Cutting each onion in half, he turned the first quarter upright and placed two slices in it without cutting right through. Returning the bulb lengthwise he sliced the onion length wise without completely cutting the pieces off. Repeating the same process with the rest of the onion pieces, preparing them to be cut into small diced cubes, he started to chop at the well rehearsed pace of a man who enjoyed cooking. He soon substituted his humming with a soft whistle.
* * * E! * * *
Mike, Roy and Johnny were welcomed upon their return and all members of the crew were relieved to find Mike was fine. Meaning he wouldn’t have to miss any time on the job, and they wouldn’t have to break in a new engineer for the rest of what was turning into a rather bizarre shift.
Eager to get cleaned up and changed, Stoker made a beeline to the locker room as soon as the others finished greeting him. In less than ten minutes, he was once again in the dayroom and waiting for Lopez to finish preparing lunch.
But just as Johnny was taking a seat beside Hank at the table and Roy was picking up the telephone receiver to make a quick phone call to Joanne, Marco let out a yelp.
All heads turned in the direction of the shriek to see their friend wildly shaking his left hand up and down. Realizing his crewmate was splattering blood with this action, Roy replaced the receiver and was at Marco’s side in three quick strides.
The senior paramedic reached into a drawer and pulled out a clean dishtowel, calling out, “Johnny,” from pure habit. Roy quickly wrapped the cloth around Marco’s bleeding finger, and applied pressure.
“How deep is it?” He looked into Marco’s pale face just as Johnny arrived.
“I think it’s pretty deep. I’m feeling a little dizzy.”
Gage placed his hands on his injured friend’s shoulders and steered him towards a chair, forcing him into it.
“Chet, call in a still alarm,” Hank ordered.
The stocky fireman wasted no time doing as ordered and quickly placed a phone call to headquarters.
While Roy continued to apply pressure, Johnny reached for Marco’s uninjured hand and felt for a pulse. He silently counted the beats and frowned at the cloth in his partner’s hands. It was quickly becoming red and didn’t seem to be letting up. He hadn’t realized Mike had left the room until the man placed the trauma box on the kitchen table.
“Thanks, Mike.”
The only response from the lanky man was a quick nod of his head. Once Johnny had the box unlatched, he handed Roy some sterile gauze, which Roy quickly replaced the towel with. Seeing how quickly the stark white material turned scarlet red concerned both paramedics as well as their captain.
Hank glanced at Roy and noticed the man’s body language. He didn’t like the situation one bit.
“Roy?”
Slowly removing the gauze to take a quick look, Roy immediately replaced it. “Doesn’t look good, Cap. How ya doin’, Marco?”
“Feeling a little sick to my stomach.”
Hank winced, not liking the sound of that anymore than the subtle body language of his paramedics.
“I think you’re gonna need stitches,” Roy told his friend.
Hearing this news, the captain turned to Chet. “Let headquarters know I’m standing down the station until further notice, due to a code I.”
* * * E! * * *
Knowing they had more of a chance at being seen quickly if they went straight to the nurses’ station instead of admitting, the three fireman walked up to the counter at which head nurse Dixie Mc Call was talking on a telephone corresponding with Squad 110.
Looking up and seeing her two favorite paramedics, Dixie flashed them a smile while writing down the vital signs of a victim as Doctor Morton arrived.
Once he took over at the base station, she turned towards the firemen. “What brings you by?”
Marco held up his now bandaged hand. Dixie took one look and all three of the men standing in front of her weren’t sure whether it was a look of amusement mixed with bewilderment on her face, but each noticed the moment it quickly faded into obvious concern.
“How in the world…” she didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.
“I lost a round with a butcher knife,” Marco explained.
“Come on, Four’s empty.” Dixie jumped off her stool and led the way to Treatment Room Four. Once Marco was settled on the examination room table and his vitals taken, she told him she’d send in a doctor as soon as possible.
Roy and Johnny stood silently wondering how long this was going to take. Marco didn’t seem to be doing too well. His vitals didn’t concern either of them, but his dizziness and nausea didn’t sit well with either of them. They both realized Marco was probably going to need a couple of stitches, but were trying to decide whether or not he’d be able to return to duty when the door opened and Doctor Brackett walked in carrying a clipboard.
* * * E! * * *
Captain Stanley, Mike and Chet sat at the table in the dayroom, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in front of them. Chet took a bite of his and slowly chewed, a disapproving expression on his face. He mumbled around the sticky food, then waited for a comment from the others.
“What’d you say?” Mike asked.
Kelly swallowed the piece of sandwich and washed it down with a swig of milk before answering. “I said, you’d think we’d have something more than peanut butter and jelly as a backup plan.
“At least we only had to use a butter knife to fix ‘em,” Hank put in. “Right now, I don’t think anyone of us belongs around any sharp objects.”
Mike nodded in agreement. “I wonder how Marco’s doing.”
The three each glanced at their own watch. Unless the ER at Rampart was extremely busy, it wouldn’t be much longer before they’d have their answer.
* * * E! * * *
Kel Brackett grinned at the trio from Station 51. “I see you guys must not’ve taken my advice to go to bed,” he teased.
Johnny shook his head. “But that’s sounding more and more like a better idea,” he snorted.
Getting more serious, the doctor stepped over to the table and took a close look at the red stained bandaging on Marco’s hand. “Looks like you’ve lost quite a bit of blood. You must’ve sliced it pretty deep. How’re you feeling?”
“Kind of dizzy.”
“I’m not surprised.” He looked at the paramedics. “Nice job of wrapping it, guys.”
“Thanks, but we can’t take all the credit,” Johnny said. “Marco here had a hand in it.”
The other three groaned inwardly at the sorry humor.
“Can I ask one favor, Doc?” Marco wondered.
“Sure.”
“Can you cut a hole in the wall and let me stick my hand through before you unwrap it?” he half joked. “I’m not sure I can look at it again.”
“He’s been feeling pretty nauseated,” Roy explained.
Brackett smiled in understanding. “Well, I’m not sure the hospital administrator would go for an arm hole in the wall, but closing your eyes works pretty good.”
Marco shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He closed his eyes, then couldn’t help but peek to see just how bad the wound looked. Right away he realized it was a bad move on his part. The bleeding had subsided enough to see the actual cut better. The gaping slit with layers of skin on either side was all he needed to see and he nearly lost his battle with the nausea. “It . . .never seems. . .as bad. . .when. . .it’s someone. . .else.”
“Don’t worry. Most doctors feel the same way.”
“And paramedics,” Johnny added.
Roy looked at his partner in wonder. Minor wounds of their own had never bothered either of them. Gage shrugged and pointed to Lopez.
Finally the finger was stitched after Marco had a local anesthesia to numb the area around the wound. Dixie brought in a glass of orange juice for him to drink for a quick boost of energy. Though the finger was sore, Brackett padded it well with bandages.
“You can go back on duty, but any problem with stitches loosening or popping, and I’m going to pull you off till your next shift at least.” He looked at Johnny and Roy, remembering they’d been in twice before with other shiftmates. He then brought his attention back to Marco and teased, “You sure you want to go back on duty? This may be your chance to hide.”
“Hey, we’re a family,” Johnny quickly put in. “We stick together through the good times and the bad, right Marco?”
No answer. ..
“Marco. . .?”
“I’m thinking. . .I’m thinking.”
Johnny put his hand on Lopez’s shoulder after the fireman got down off the exam table; Gage guided him toward the door. “C’mon.”
Roy addressed Brackett as they exited the room. “See you later. Hopefully not with one of us as a patient again. . .” One thing popped in his mind. We’re like the ten little Indians, only six of us instead. . . first Cap, then Mike, then Marco. . .and then there were three. . .
* * * E! * * *
The flurry of concerned welcomes from the rest of the station crew finally died down. Because Marco's finger was so heavily bandaged, he was excused from cleaning and was currently relaxing on the couch next to the slumbering station mascot Henry the Bassett hound.
With a sigh, Captain Stanley excused himself. "More paperwork to take care of for headquarters. Can you guys try and stay out of trouble for the rest of the day?"
"Cap!" Chet protested. "You'll jinx us!"
"Sure, Cap," Stoker replied with a smile.
Johnny made sandwiches for Roy and himself. "Marco, you want something to eat?"
"I think I'll wait until my stomach settles down. Thanks anyway, Johnny."
"If you change your mind, just let me know. Hey, Roy? Milk or coffee?"
"Milk sounds--" The tones went off and both men groaned.
"Man, I'm hungry!" Johnny groaned, quickly slamming the jelly back in the refrigerator. He tossed the bread onto the counter and followed his partner to the squad, passing Captain Stanley on the way.
"Squad 51, man down at 4199 West Arroyo. Four One Nine Nine West Arroyo, cross street Gainsaw. Time out 1348."
"Squad 51, KMG 365." Captain Stanley quickly jotted down the address, handing the slip of paper to Roy who passed it on to Johnny.
As they pulled out of the station, Johnny frowned. "Isn't that the police substation?"
"Yeah, I think so," his partner replied.
"Wonder what happened?"
"We'll find out soon."
As they arrived at the small building, the two paramedics saw a large group of people gathered around. The crowd consisted entirely of police officers from both the Los Angeles City and the Los Angeles County Sheriff Departments, none of whom seemed too concerned. Johnny grabbed the gear from the squad while Roy made his way through the laughing officers.
Once he made it to the center of the crowd, Roy spotted Officer Vince Howard kneeling beside a city policeman who was gripping his arm and grimacing. A young woman was sitting cross-legged beside them, talking softly to the man and giving dirty looks to the others around them.
Johnny caught up with Roy, eyeing the strange reactions of the cops. He leaned closer to his partner and muttered, "Man, this is really weird."
"Tell me about it. Hey, Vince."
"Roy, John, we've got to stop meeting like this. This is Officer Bob Corella. We think his arm is broken."
"Uh huh." Roy reached for the officer's arm, assisted by the young woman in civilian clothing. "What happened?"
This question elicited more chuckles from the crowd and earned another glare from the woman. "Y'all shut up now! It isn't funny."
"Sure it is, Kath. Bumper Bob here broke his own arm showing off. You can't get much funnier than that," one of the men said with a smile.
"Roy, this is Kathy Unger. She was scheduled to ride along with L.A.'s finest tonight. I came late to this party, so I'll let Kathy tell you what happened." Vince coughed into his hand while gently patting Bob on the shoulder.
While Roy took Bob's vitals and Johnny contacted Rampart, Kathy clutched the officer's other hand in sympathy. With a deep breath and one more fierce look at the other men surrounding them, the brunette launched into her story. "Well, we were waiting for day watch to come back with their cars so we could go out on night watch. I was supposed to ride with John Gavin over there. Bob, John, and Pete were talking about that cop show, the Blue Knight. Y'all ever seen it?" she asked in a soft Southern drawl.
Johnny and Roy nodded. "Sure."
"Well, on last night's episode, Bumper Morgan, the Blue Knight, used his nightstick to take down this suspect by slinging it at the man's feet while the guy was running away."
Johnny smiled. "Yeah, I remember that. That was cool."
"Yeah, it was," Kathy smiled back. "The show has Bumper using his nightstick rather than his gun to take care of business. Bob and Pete started arguing with John about whether that type of use was possible, with John saying that it was malarkey. Bob here decided to prove him wrong."
"I see," Roy murmured. "Johnny, the fracture is just above the wrist."
"Got it." Johnny gave the details to Rampart, and then turned back to Kathy. "Then what?"
Bob groaned.
"Now, Bob, the guys here all know, so you might as well bite the bullet and let me tell these nice firemen." Kathy rubbed his good arm in support.
"I know."
"Anyhow, he got a little...fancy with the use of the nightstick, flipping it around and up and down, you know?" She waited for the nods of understanding before continuing. "I think everything would've gone okay only he was standing too close to the door." Kathy pointed to the side door of the substation. "The stick smacked against it and bounced back. Hard."
"Yeah, right against my arm. You could hear the crack all over the parking lot. Damn, it hurt. Still does."
"The comedians around here called you guys, which was probably the most helpful thing they've done." Kathy sighed as Roy finished preparing the officer for transport. The ambulance had arrived and the attendants came through the crowd with the gurney.
"Awww, I can walk."
"Officer Robert Corella, you will do what these men tell you to do and how they tell you to do it. Do you hear me?" This voice was deep and commanding.
"Yes sir, Lieutenant."
"The rest of you? Those of you who are off duty, go home. Those of you who are supposed to be out on patrol need to be in their cars now. Move it!"
The crowd dispersed.
Kathy handed the stricken officer's nightstick to Johnny.
"He might want this when they release him. It's part of his uniform, ya know?" Kathy said. She glanced back at the paramedic. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for not laughing at him. You two were the only ones who didn't. That was real nice of you."
Johnny grinned. "Figured he was already in for it from his friends. He didn't need it from us as well."
"Well, it was still nice, so thank you. Tell that good-looking partner of yours the same, okay?"
Johnny stood staring as Kathy slipped into the patrol car waiting near the squad. "Roy? Good-looking partner? What about me?"
* * * E! * * *
Back at the station, Johnny was telling Chet what happened. Since the paramedic was cleaning out the interior of the squad of their call tickets at the time, his friend was leaning in the driver's side of the squad, listening.
"He must have been doing that flippie thing, where the thong is around the wrist and you flip the stick out, back and catch it." Chet said. "Hey, look. You've still got that cop's nightstick."
"Ah, man, I forgot to give it to him at Rampart. Give it to me and I'll call him, find out what he wants me to do with this. Maybe we can drop it off on our next run to Rampart, if Bob is still there. He might be; emergency was really getting backed up."
Chet starting playing with the stick, backing away from Johnny. "Lemme try this."
"Chet, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I know what I'm doing. Anyway, I'm not near any doors." Chet played with the nightstick, earning Johnny's grudging admiration for the way he flipped the stick up and caught it, then dropping it out of his hand to flip the other way.
"Man, that's good. Where'dya learn to do that?"
"Remember I told ya my grandfather worked on the subway in New York City?"
"Yeah," Johnny replied, not seeing the connection between a train conductor and a nightstick.
"Well, his brother was a street cop in the Bronx. He had a stick just like this and would flip it around while walking his beat. I used to watch him when he’d practice."
The two men were walking to the back of the apparatus bay, Chet still showing off with the nightstick, when it happened. Marco pushed the kitchen door open and the nightstick hit the door and bounced back, straight into Chet's face.
"Arghh!" the Irishman screamed, grabbing his face, blood spurting between his fingers.
"Chet, let go. Chet, let me see." Johnny grabbed the fireman’s wrists, trying to pull his hands away from his face. "Roy!"
"I'm here. Marco, get the drug box and the biophone. Mike, can you bring us some towels? Cap?"
Stanley sighed. "Yeah, I know, Roy. I'll call in a Code I. Do we need an ambulance?"
"Johnny?"
The younger man was trying to staunch the blood pouring from Chet's face enough to determine the amount of damage. "Uh, I don't think so, Cap. I'm not feeling any breaks, but he's gonna have a beaut of a black eye. Actually, two of them, I'd bet. We can drive him in to Rampart."
"Ib I don' hab a brogen noth, why go to Rambart?"
"'Cause you still need x-rays to make certain," Johnny replied. "Hey, I can drop the nightstick off to Bob while we're there."
"Derrifig," Chet grunted.
"This day is just going from bad to worse," Captain Stanley observed.
Johnny thought about the horoscopes. They seemed to carry more weight than he ever would have believed. He glanced at Roy to see if there was a reaction to Hank’s words, but couldn’t tell.
"You'd expect it to happen to me, wouldn't you?” Gage said, still trying to get some sort of reaction from DeSoto. The older paramedic was too busy with the biophone. Johnny continued. “But not this time. First you, then Mike, then Marco; now Chet." He shook his head, grinning. "That leaves just Roy. You'd better watch out, partner."
"John," Stanley said warningly, not wanting Chet to know about his mishap with the sticky angel, but the injured fireman was busy trying to see his nose, getting extremely cross-eyed in the process.
Roy finished talking to Rampart. "Johnny, Brackett agrees that we can drive Chet to Rampart for his x-rays. They'll decide then whether he'll be coming back on duty. We'll call you, Cap, as soon as we know something definite."
Johnny was still grinning as he helped Chet to his feet and guided him to the passenger side of the squad. It wasn't that he was taking delight in his coworkers' accidents, he was just pleased that, for once, it wasn't happening to him and that nothing life threatening was involved. What a day! he thought.
* * * E! * * *
Dr. Brackett sighed as he finished suturing the small cut on Chet Kelly's nose. The young firefighter had not stopped talking the entire time. The x-rays were negative and he wasn't showing any signs of concussion so the doctor decided against admitting him.
He exited the treatment room with Chet on his heels, still chattering. Setting the chart down, he clapped the wounded man on the back of the shoulder.
"You're free to go. Keep your nose clean," he added with a grin.
Chet's hand immediately went to the bandage on his nose. Johnny burst out laughing while Roy rolled his eyes.
"Oh har har har. Really fuddy, you duys." He promptly dropped into a chair and began to sulk. He tried glaring at his co-workers but the only thing he accomplished was to send Gage into another fit of laughter. Dixie joined in.
The bruise forming across the bridge of his nose was spreading down the sides and encompassing the area under his eyes. "What?" he shouted at them. He was holding his arms out at his sides.
"Nothing," Roy said.
Johnny snickered and said, "He's going to look like a raccoon soon."
"Gage - " Chet stood up and started to speak but his retort was cut short.
"Now, fellas," Dixie said. "Johnny, quit teasing Chet."
"Yeah, Dage, quit - "
She then turned to Kelly. "And you, quit being so sensitive."
Chet closed his mouth and sat back down.
"Good! Now I don't want to see any more of you or your co-workers the rest of the day. Got it?"
Roy smiled, "Yes, ma’am."
Johnny was still chuckling but managed a 'Yes' as well.
Chet sighed, threw his hands in the air and said, "Okay but this was not my idea!"
"You did get rid of that nightstick, didn't you?"
Gage looked at his partner. "Of course, right after I called Cap. Wouldn't want Chester here to start showing off again."
Chet stood up and Roy sighed. "C'mon you two that's enough. I'm tempted to let Johnny drive back to the station just to keep you apart!"
Chet deadpanned a look of pure terror. "Ouch!" The added facial movements made his nose hurt more. "No, Roy! Please don't do dat! I'll stob...I bromise!"
"Thanks a lot, Roy," was all Johnny said. DeSoto had a feeling he’d inadvertently hurt his partner's feelings but wasn't certain. The two paramedics followed Chet toward the exit.
Dixie watched the three leave and smiled.
"Are they gone?" the dark-haired doctor asked as he came around the corner.
"Yeah, Kel, why?
"I have a feeling he'd talk even with a broken jaw!"
"Somehow I don't doubt that."
* * * E! * * *
The ride back to the station was not quiet. Chet continued to talk all the way home. The two paramedics didn't know which was worse - the strange run of bad luck or Chet's constant yakking.
Once the squad was parked, Chet kept up his steady conversation all the way into the kitchen where he soon found several more ears to listen to him. Gage and DeSoto exchanged amused glances and silently left the room.
"So, Roy, who's next?"
"Don't start, Johnny. It's all just a bunch of weird co-incidences."
"Yeah I guess. Like that - remember that day? It was a Wednesday I think. Nothing went right."
"Yes, I do. I don't think it’ll be like that."
"But you've gotta admit - "
"Just co-incidences."
Gage looked at his partner. Roy was giving him that look again. "All right, fine. Just co-incidences."
Johnny went to retrieve the cleaning supplies and Roy backed the squad into the rear lot. The two began washing the exterior of the truck.
"Be careful you don’t trip over the bucket.”
Roy cocked an eyebrow. “Would you stop? Besides, what makes you so sure I’m the only one out here who needs to watch out? If you’re so sure it’s the horoscopes, yours wasn’t exactly bright and sunny.”
Johnny didn’t respond verbally, but rather moved the bucket farther away from where they’d be stepping.
* * * E! * * *
