“Alice Doesn’t Live Here Any More”
By Rona
It was immediately obvious that the old man was dead. The large pool of blood on the floor was inconsistent with life. Still, the paramedics crouched by his side to check for a pulse. Perhaps they had arrived in time – perhaps.
“Ma’am?” Johnny Gage turned to regard the elderly lady huddled in the armchair across the room. Her face was pasty and looked sweaty. “Ma’am, do you know what happened?” He rose and walked slowly towards the woman, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her. But after what he and his partner, Roy DeSoto, had just discovered, they needed to know – right now – what had happened. The old man had been shot and Johnny just hoped that he was not walking towards the person who had shot him.
“It was… it was…” the thin voice began and the woman swallowed convulsively, raising her gaze to Johnny’s face. Her eyes swam with tears. “It… he…” She couldn’t manage a coherent sentence and then her eyes suddenly darted to look over Johnny’s shoulder and at once, Gage knew that the sound he heard from behind him did not come from his partner.
“She should know what happened,” a deep male voice advised Johnny. “She did witness it.”
Deeply concerned by the look of terror on the lady’s face, Johnny nevertheless felt compelled to turn around. A tall, well built man of about Johnny’s age stood there. He was dressed in a blue work shirt and blue pants, clearly a uniform of some kind and the word ‘security’ was embroidered above the breast pocket. A holster hung from the black belt encircling his waist and Johnny could see the gleam of a couple of pairs of handcuffs. Any other time, this figure of steadfast authority would have reassured the young paramedic. But given that at this particular moment in time, the security officer had a gun to Roy’s head, Johnny realised which ‘he’ the lady had been referring to.
“Just take it easy,” Johnny muttered, raising his hands and moving slightly so that his body shielded the lady.
A scowl darkened the man’s handsome features. “I give the orders around here, Injun,” he warned. “Any more backtalk and your partner here will have some extra ventilation.”
“Okay, okay,” Johnny soothed, in his most calming tone. “We don’t want anyone getting hurt here.”
Incredibly, the man laughed. “Tonto, you are a really funny guy,” he chortled. “Someone already got hurt and I wanted that. So don’t give me any of your pathetic platitudes; I’m immune to them.” His smile faded. “Sit down, Tonto,” he ordered, “and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Slowly doing as he was told, Johnny turned his head to look at the lady again. She was still pale, but looked slightly better than she had. Without conscious thought, Johnny’s hand drifted out to clasp her wrist and feel for her pulse.
The crash of the gun butt on the base of his thumb came as a complete shock. Johnny yelped, but before he could finish drawing the injured appendage back towards his body, he found himself pushed to the floor, looking down the barrel of the gun. Breath catching in his throat, Johnny froze.
“You’re lucky I didn’t blow your head off,” the man warned. “Or his, for that matter.” He gestured to Roy, who lay beside Johnny. “What are you playing at?”
“I…I was just trying to make sure the lady is all right,” Johnny replied.
“What difference does it make if she’s all right?” the man demanded. “She’ll tell me what I want to know faster if she’s hurting a bit – won’t you, Mary?”
“Peter, please,” the woman pleaded. “I don’t know the answer.”
“What are you going to do?” Roy asked, calmly. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know where Alice is and then I’m going to kill all of you.” Peter sneered at Roy, who paled despite himself. “I just want to know where Alice is and why she isn’t here!”
“Alice doesn’t live here anymore,” Mary replied. “I told you that.” Her voice was flat and held a quiver.
“But you haven’t told me where she is, you stupid old bag!” Peter yelled and the volume of his voice was quite something.
“I don’t know where she is!” Mary yelled back. She gulped in a sobbing breath and clutched her sweater closer to her. “I called the police, too,” she said, as though continuing a conversation. “I’m surprised they aren’t here yet. I told them there was a gunman in the house.”
Roy and Johnny exchanged a glance. How they wished she had told their dispatch that. Perhaps then they wouldn’t be in this situation.
************************
“You did what?” Peter shrieked. “You stupid bitch!” He glanced around wildly. “I’ve got to get out of here before it’s too late.”
It was already too late. “You in the house. This is the police. The house is surrounded. Throw down your weapon and come out with your hands up.”
Peter swore. He made a move towards Mary as though to pistol-whip her and Johnny reacted without thinking, putting himself between the courageous old lady and their captor. Only the fact that he was moving prevented the gun from knocking him cold, but it did crash down on his shoulder with devastating force, knocking him to the ground, dazing him and causing pain to radiate down his arm. He groaned as Peter grabbed that arm to yank him to his feet. The gun dug fiercely into his jaw. “You idiot!”
Next instant, Johnny found himself on the floor on his backside. Cold metal fastened around both his wrists, but it took him several minutes to realise that the handcuffs were not just a single pair, but both pairs he had seen. Johnny’s left wrist was attached to Roy’s right wrist and vice versa.
Moving to beside the window, Peter called back, “I’m not coming out! I have three hostages in here – two of them are firemen. Back off, or they all die.” He fired out of the window to add emphasis to his threat.
“Johnny, are you all right?” Roy whispered.
“I’m fine,” Johnny replied. “Sorry, Roy, I didn’t mean to make things worse.”
“You couldn’t sit by and let anything happen to Mary either,” Roy soothed. “And neither could I. You just beat me to it.” Roy looked at Peter standing over by the window and wondered how on earth this was all going to end.
************************
Outside, the police all ducked as the shot tore through the window. “He’s not too happy,” the detective in charge noted. He glanced at the rescue squad parked at the kerb. “What the hell were those two firemen thinking when they went in without us?”
Officer Vince Howard frowned. “The fire department usually waits for us to arrive before they go into a situation like this,” he commented. “Want me to check with their dispatch?”
“Yes, do that. Let them know that Squad 51 is going to be out of action for the foreseeable future.” With a sigh, the detective raised the bullhorn to his lips again. “Sir, we just want to talk. What do you want?”
“I want Alice brought here!” came the reply.
“As clear as mud,” the detective murmured. “Who the hell is Alice?”
“The LA County dispatcher wasn’t told anything about a gunman,” Vince reported. “They are going to get in contact with Station 51 and the paramedics’ families.”
“All right. Now all we have to do is figure out who Alice is!” Once more, he lifted the bullhorn.
*************************
The phone rang in Station 51 and Captain Hank Stanley, filling out the run log, lifted the receiver absently. “Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking. Oh, hi, Chief.” Stanley listened in growing horror and finally managed to grunt out a response. Slowly, he replaced the receiver and ran shaking hands over his face. Oh God, how can something like this happen? What am I going to tell the others?
The rest of the crew were gathered in the day room, watching a game show on television. It had been a slow day for the engine and the chores had been done quickly. Marco had even been kind enough to finish off the dorm for Johnny. “Men, I’ve got something to tell you,” Hank started.
“Cap, are you all right?” Mike Stoker, the engineer asked. “You’re awfully pale.”
“Its Roy and John,” Cap started and stuttered out the story he had heard from the chief. He heard the exclamations of disbelief and horror from his crew and let them talk, giving them time to get over the first shock. “The chief has dispatched a squad to stand-by at the house and he says we can go over there, too as long as we stay available.”
“What about Joanne?” Chet asked. “Has someone told her?”
“Chief McConnike is doing that,” Cap replied. “Someone is going to see John’s aunt as well.” Hank didn’t bother to add that she probably wouldn’t understand what was being said to her. Only he and Roy knew that John’s aunt had advanced dementia and no longer knew who he was. Roy was listed as Johnny’s next of kin.
“Let’s go,” Mike suggested and rose to his feet, the others following suit. As he swung into the cab, Mike wondered if he would be able to drive at a reasonable speed, since his instinct was to floor the accelerator and slap on the sirens.
**************************
Inside the house, silence had fallen for a minute. Roy broke it. “Who is Alice?” he ventured.
“Alice is my wife,” Peter snarled, glaring at the paramedic as though Roy should have known that.
“Not any more,” Mary crowed. “She’s not your wife any more!”
“Shut up, you old witch!” Peter screamed moving over to loom threateningly over Mary.
“Do your worst,” she retorted. “After all, you’ve killed…” Her voice broke on a sob. “You’ve killed Arthur. Alice is gone. What do I have left to live for?”
“Alice will always be mine,” Peter snarled. “She’ll come here when she finds out what I did to her father and what I’m going to do to you if she doesn’t.” He brandished the gun at Mary, but the woman didn’t flinch.
“Leave her alone!” Johnny cried. This whole situation was a mess, he was helpless, but he couldn’t sit back and let this man abuse a woman.
“Shut up!” Peter screamed and viciously back-handed Johnny, knocking both he and Roy to the floor with the force of the blow.
Frantically, Roy twisted to look over his shoulder at his partner, but he couldn’t see Johnny’s face. “Johnny?”
“I’m okay,” Johnny replied thickly. His nose and mouth were bleeding, but he knew he’d been lucky. “Let’s sit up, huh?” They worked together to sit up again. Mary reached out to pet Johnny’s tousled hair.
“You’re such a sweet boy,” she whispered. “Why couldn’t Alice have met a nice boy like you instead of marrying that bully?”
There was a clunk as Peter accidentally kicked the drug box. Roy stiffened as the irrational man took a sudden interest in their medical equipment. “Uh-oh,” he whispered.
“What?” Johnny whispered back, feeling Roy’s anxiety but not being able to see what was causing it. It wasn’t Roy that provided the answer.
“What is all this stuff, exactly?” Peter asked, gesturing to the equipment.
“Just the stuff we need,” Roy replied vaguely. He watched with seeming disinterest as Peter started rifling through the drug box.
“Hmm, just stuff, huh?” Peter picked out something at random and squinted at the label. “Never heard of it,” he muttered to himself. “But this?” He sniggered. “This might be worth having.”
Fighting to keep his face impassive, Roy watched as Peter brought the vial over to him. “This stuff – diazepam – it knocks you out if you get enough, doesn’t it?”
Not knowing what to say, for any answer would be the wrong one, Roy said nothing. That turned out to be the wrong answer, too. “I thought it did,” Peter crowed. “All right, let’s see what else is in there.” He went back to the drug box.
“Mary,” Johnny whispered. “Is there a back door to this property?”
“Yes,” the woman replied. “Why?”
“Any chance you get, you run for it,” Johnny told her. “Never mind us. Just get out of here.”
“What are you whispering about, Tonto?” demanded Peter. He kicked Johnny.
“Nothing,” Johnny muttered sullenly. He hated the racial slurs, but said nothing, knowing that to protest would only encourage the man to say worse things.
“Don’t lie to me!” Peter yelled and dragged Johnny half to his feet by his shirt front. “What did you say?”
“I asked if she was all right, okay?” Johnny snapped back. “I was concerned about her.” He glared at Peter and realised that Roy had been pulled to his feet, too. An idea germinated in his mind and Johnny just hoped that Roy would forgive him for what he was about to do, but the chance might not come again. Johnny grabbed Roy’s hands and pulled sharply, throwing their combined weight against Peter.
**************************
An awful lot of nothing was happening outside. The police had thrown up a cordon, keeping the inevitable rubber-necking public back. Squad 36 was waiting by their vehicle and the rest of Station 51 waited by the engine. Police officers had the small house surrounded, but since the net curtains shielding all the windows from nosy neighbours were doing their job quite admirably, they were unable to see inside and had no idea where the perp and his hostages were located. Recent attempts to make contact had failed and a growing sense of unease was spreading through the uniformed forces gathered.
At length, Detective Ron Crockett came across. He had known the members of Station 51 for quite some time. “Hank, men,” he greeted them. “How are you holding out?”
“We’re okay,” Stanley told him, “its John and Roy we’re worried about. What’s happening?”
Wiping a hand over his face, Crockett sighed. “Not much here, but we have found out a few things,” he admitted.
“Why do I get the feeling we’re not going to like this?” Chet asked.
A brief smile flitted across the black man’s face. “Perhaps because we don’t like it either, Chet,” he replied. “We checked against the address for this house. It belongs to an Arthur and Mary Charters. They and their daughter, Mrs Peter Revels, had a restraining order against Mr Peter Revels, her estranged husband. He had been beating her before she managed to leave him.”
“Let me guess,” Stanley sighed. “Her name is Alice?”
“Got it in one,” Crockett nodded.
“Are you going to bring her here?” Marco asked, sensing the answer to this question wasn’t really one they wanted to hear.
“Nope,” Crockett replied. “Because she died in childbirth about a month ago. The baby died, too. Apparently, her mother hasn’t altogether accepted her death – Alice was an only child. We’re pretty sure that the gunman in the house is Peter Revels.”
“Oh boy,” Stanley muttered. Marco whispered a prayer in Spanish under his breath. Mike shook his head and Chet gaped at Crockett.
“What are you guys going to do now?” he demanded.
Before Crockett could answer, there was a shout from the house. “Hey, you out there!”
************************
It was hard to say who was more surprised by the sudden attack – Peter Revels or Roy DeSoto. Roy had a second to wonder why Johnny had grabbed him before he was falling backwards, landing on top of both Johnny and Peter. He tried to gather himself together to help Johnny, but he had no idea what his partner intended.
Sadly, Johnny had had no real idea either. He had hoped that the combined weight of himself and Roy would wind Peter for long enough to allow them to somehow overpower him, perhaps with Mary’s help. But Johnny’s landing was off and although he tried to knee Peter in the groin, he lacked the necessary leverage.
Being a security officer, Peter was trained to deal with attacks. He bashed Johnny alongside the ear and squirmed out from underneath him, never losing contact with the hapless paramedic, before pinning him in place with a knee on the back.
“Tonto, you really have annoyed me now,” he growled breathlessly. He put more of his weight onto Johnny’s kidneys, enjoying the paramedic’s grunts of pain.
Leaning his weight onto Roy, Peter fumbled with the handcuffs, separating the two men. Still kneeling on Johnny, he kept hold of one of Roy’s arms and ordered him to turn round. To Roy’s immense surprise, his hands were cuffed in front of him.
Pulling Johnny’s head back by the hair, Peter ground the gun into his captive’s jaw. “You go and get a dose – a big dose – of that diazepam and inject it into your friend here.”
“We’re only supposed to use the drugs under a doctor’s supervision,” Roy replied, his lips numb, knowing that he would have to do what he was told in the end.
“You either do what I say or I blow your friend’s head off. Which is it going to be?” The gun dug even deeper into Johnny’s jaw and he couldn’t suppress a groan.
“Roy…” Johnny gasped. “I’m sorry. Just… do it.” The slight chance they had had was gone and Johnny felt bad that Roy now had to do something he knew was wrong.
Stumbling to the drug box, Roy fumbled for the vial and a syringe. With shaking hands, he drew the fluid into the chamber and then expelled the air. He glanced over at his partner again and met the dark brown, expressive eyes. Slowly, Roy rose and walked the few steps to Johnny’s side. It was only then that he noticed that Mary had gone.
**********************
Trying to still his shaking hands, Roy schooled himself not to look at Mary’s empty chair. Peter was still holding Johnny’s head at a horrible angle, the gun digging into his jaw. “Get a move on!” Peter ordered. “Get that shot into him.”
“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Roy whispered. He could see the forgiveness in Johnny’s eyes, but it didn’t really make Roy feel better. He fumbled slightly with the handcuffs and felt Johnny wince as the needle went in squint.
“Good boy,” Peter crooned. “Now get another shot and get it into him.” He grinned. “Then you can give yourself one in a minute. Move it!” He tugged harder on Johnny’s hair and he groaned. Roy did as he was told, repeating the procedure. He could not believe that Peter had not noticed Mary’s absence. He just hoped that somehow, it would give him the edge he needed to somehow save their lives. Johnny would need medical help after 2 doses of diazepam.
“All right.” Peter let go of Johnny’s head as the paramedic’s muscles went limp. Grabbing Roy by the arm, he dragged the paramedic to the window. “Hey, you out there!”
**********************
To say the armed officers on guard at the back of the house were surprised when a little old lady tottered out was something of an understatement. Although they were pretty sure that Mary Charters was in the house, they had had no way of finding out for sure. One officer held his aim on her as she stumbled towards them over the rough grass in the backyard, but she seemed oblivious to him.
“You’ve got to help those two nice boys in there,” Mary informed the officer as she fell into his arms. “Peter is being so horrible to them. And one of them would be perfect for my Alice.”
That statement made the officer in question rather worried, as he knew that Alice was dead. Gulping, he decided that perhaps this old lady had misplaced her marbles through stress and grunted something non-committal while guiding her to safety around the front of the property.
Within moments of her appearance, the paramedics from 36s were by Mary’s side, checking her over for injuries. She smiled vaguely at them, wondering where all the men in uniforms had come from. “I’m all right,” she insisted. “I just did what that nice young man told me to and got out. Is that all right?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” Crockett assured her. “Which young man told you what to do?”
“Oh the dark haired good looking one,” Mary replied blithely. She gave a melancholy sigh. “Why couldn’t Alice have found a nice boy like him?”
“Mrs Charters, can you tell us exactly where the paramedics were when you left them?” Crockett smiled at the old lady, hoping to finally hear something that would help resolve this hideous situation.
Nodding, Mary told them where the paramedics were and after some gentle prompting, explained the layout of the sitting room to them. Crockett smiled and nodded. Satisfied that they had got all the information they could, Crockett asked, “Are the paramedics all right?” He knew that Station 51’s crew could do with some good news.
“Peter hit one of them very hard a couple of times,” Mary responded, looking worried. “He was bleeding.”
The look of dismay on the crews’ faces made Crockett regret his kind impulse. But before he could say or do anything, the shout came from the house again. “Hey you out there!”
**********************
Responding, the officer with the bullhorn replied. “We can hear you.”
“Listen good,” Peter shouted. “One of them paramedics is gonna die real soon if you don’t get Alice here. They’ve got some good drugs in this box and I haven’t tried them all yet. I don’t know what they all do, but I don’t think you’d want me shooting them into this guy. He looks pretty bad. Get Alice here and I won’t kill Mary.” He reached over and ripped down the net curtains, shoving Roy into view and putting a gun to his head. “I could shoot this guy to prove that I mean it.”
“We’re moving as fast as we can on getting Alice,” the cop replied. He could see Mary from the corner of his eye and wondered that the perp didn’t know she was gone. “I just need to check to see exactly where she is right now, okay? I’m just going to the radio to check.”
“Hurry up then!” Peter snarled and as the officer turned away, he shoved Roy to the floor. “Get that shot ready for yourself!” he ordered, keeping his attention on the officer as he went to a patrol car.
Kneeling on the floor, Roy knew what he had to do. He couldn’t allow anyone else to walk into this mess and although he knew the police would have some plan, he couldn’t wait for it to unfold. Johnny needed help right now and Roy was his only chance. With hands as steady as a rock, he quickly loaded a syringe with a large dose of diazepam and without hesitating, shot it into Peter’s leg.
With a howl that could be heard quite distinctly from outside, Peter rounded on Roy, who had prudently decided not to remain within arm’s reach and was hightailing it over to Johnny. It was at that moment that Peter realised that Mary was gone and he raised his gun to finish off the two men. Roy gaped at him, knowing that the diazepam would not work in time.
He had failed. He closed his eyes and thought of Joanne.
And then there was the first of many gun shots.
************************
“Go, go, go!” Crockett ordered the officers at the back as Peter lingered by the window. This was the chance they had been waiting for.
Suddenly, Peter turned and they all clearly saw him raising his gun and taking aim. A collective gasp rose from the throats of the watching police and firemen. The first shot sounded and a stray bullet starred the window, blocking the view. Chet made a movement towards the building, but Marco grabbed his arm.
Later, they had no idea how long they had stood there, frozen, waiting for word from inside. All any of them could say was that it was too long. And then the voice issued from over the police radio, “All clear.”
Snatching up pieces of Squad 36’s equipment, 51s hurried to the house, ignoring Crockett’s warning to wait. They were done with waiting. Two of their own were in trouble and they had to help.
***********************
The inside of the house stank of cordite. Peter Revels lay on his back, dead. The body of Arthur Charters, the original cause for the ‘man down’ call was still where it had been when Roy and Johnny first arrived. One of the cops was working on the handcuffs securing the wrists of the paramedics.
As his hands were freed, Roy glanced up and saw his colleagues. “Johnny has had two doses of diazepam. His pulse is 56, respirations 7. He received a couple of blows to the face and has been kicked. I don’t think those injuries are serious.” Roy bent over his partner again. “Respiratory arrest!” he cried.
At once, 36s paramedics moved into position. As Roy was tugged reluctantly away, they busied themselves with an oesophageal airway, fitted it and began bagging. One opened the biophone and began updating Rampart. “Rampart this is Squad 36.”
“Go ahead, 36,” Dr Brackett’s deep voice responded.
“Rampart, we have a paramedic suffering from respiratory arrest after 2 consecutive doses of diazepam. Vitals are pulse 56, BP 80/60. We are currently assisting his breathing.”
“Go ahead and start an IV,” Brackett began and listed the things he wanted the medics to do. Roy didn’t hear any more. The shock of the whole experience suddenly caught up with him and he slumped to the floor. Vaguely, he heard someone call his name, but the next time he was truly aware of anything was when a needle punctured his arm.
“What…?” He turned his head, blinking, feeling his body shake and the cold trickle of sweat running down his sides.
“Take it easy, DeSoto,” soothed Jay Parker, one of 36s paramedics. “You decided to check out on us there – or was this a spot check on our performance?” he teased, coaxing a reluctant smile.
“Johnny…” Roy began, trying to sit up, but it wasn’t just Parker’s hands that prevented that movement. Cap was there too.
“Johnny’s already on his way to Rampart,” Cap assured his senior paramedic. “You’ll be heading off there in a minute, Roy. Just relax.”
“But, Cap,” Roy protested. “I gave the diazepam to Johnny.”
Knowing Roy’s propensity for guilt trips, Stanley had no difficulty finding patience. “Roy, you were being held at gun point. You had no control over that situation and I know for a fact that nobody is blaming you for anything.”
“I gave that guy some diazepam, too,” Roy murmured, lying back. He could hear the ambulance gurney arriving. He glanced around. “What happened to him? Is he…?”
“Dead,” Cap replied. “The cops shot him before he had time to shoot you and Johnny.”
There was only one more thing Roy wanted to know as he was loaded onto the gurney. “Is Mary all right?”
Sighing, Stanley finally nodded. “Physically, she’s fine,” he hedged.
“Maybe Alice can help her,” Roy suggested and for the first time, the crew of 51s became aware that the paramedics had not known the whole story.
“Roy,” Stanley put his hand on the paramedic’s shoulder. “Roy, Alice died over a month ago.”
He knew he would never forget the look on Roy’s face as he was wheeled away.
************************
“Treatment 1,” Brackett ordered as the ambulance doors opened and the gurney was pulled out. Dave Thompson hopped onto the rails and continued bagging.
“His vitals are holding steady,” Dave reported as Johnny was moved to the exam table. “He’s even making a few efforts to breathe alone, but not enough to stop supporting.”
“Hook him to the ventilator,” Brackett ordered. “I want a blood gas, tox screen…” He rattled off the necessary tests while he peered closely into Johnny’s eyes. “Any other injuries?” he asked, glancing at Thompson.
“Pretty much just what you see,” Thompson responded. “His nose doesn’t appear to be broken and all his teeth are intact. There are abrasions on his wrists from the handcuffs and a couple of welts under his jaw line. Roy said Johnny had been kicked, too, but he didn’t specify where.”
“All right, thanks, Dave,” Brackett nodded and the paramedic gathered his equipment and left the room.
While Dixie cut off Johnny’s uniform, Brackett examined Johnny’s wrists and jaw. Once Dixie had finished, he continued visually assessing Johnny’s pale skin, using his fingers to tell him more. There were no overt signs of pain as Kel traced over Johnny’s ribs and his abdomen was soft. There was a slight swelling on Johnny’s right hip. “Let’s get x-ray down here,” he told Dix. “Skull series and this right leg. I don’t think there’s anything broken, but let’s play it safe.” He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “And can someone tell me exactly what happened to get Johnny in this state?”
***********************
It was Roy who provided the answers, repeating his story first to the doctors, then the police and later to his shift-mates. Dr Joe Early’s kind face showed no revulsion at Roy’s confession of giving Johnny the diazepam which so threatened his life, but Roy knew that he was trained to show nothing untoward to the anxious patients. And anxious Roy certainly was. He had no real injuries, just abrasions on his wrists from the handcuffs and a couple of bruises, but the whole situation had shaken him to his core. Lying safely on the examination table, he found himself unable to stop shaking, even though he was safe. If he closed his eyes for a moment, he could see poor Arthur Charters lying on the floor in a pool of blood, yet after the first few moments in the house, he could not remember seeing the corpse at all until everything was over.
Lieutenant Crockett had stopped in for Roy’s statement and had made the ordeal as short as he could. There was no blame to be laid at the paramedic’s door – he was simply tidying up the last loose ends of the case. Stowing away his notebook, Crockett patted Roy’s shoulder. “You rest now, Roy,” he advised. He had never seen the paramedic looking as pale as he did at that moment.
“Lieutenant, wait,” Roy pleaded, grabbing his sleeve. “Am I going to be facing charges for drugging Johnny?”
“Hell, no!” Crockett exclaimed, stunned that Roy could even be thinking about something like that. “Roy, you did nothing wrong and everything right as far as I can see. You get some rest and everything’ll look different in the morning.”
“Sure,” Roy replied, dropping his eyes. “Thanks.” He sounded less than convinced.
Now that the official business was over, Joe Early returned to Roy’s side and smiled. “Crockett was right, Roy,” he said. “You need to rest. I’ll give you a sedative and then we’ll get you settled in a room. Joanne should be here soon.”
“How’s Johnny?” Roy asked, as the sedative was administered.
“They’re taking him up to ICU until he sleeps this off, but apart from that, he’s fine. No broken bones or anything to worry about.”
“Just whether he can recover from the overdose I gave him,” Roy muttered.
Frowning, Early started to take Roy to task, but the paramedic willingly succumbed to the sedative in his veins and slid off into sleep.
***********************
ICU was comparatively quiet that day. None of the nurses would have protested at the four firemen who milled anxiously around the waiting room while their young colleague was settled in even if they had been busy. Gossip spread round the hospital faster than a brush fire in dry grass and they all knew the gist of what had happened to Johnny.
Just when Cap thought that he would have to sit on Chet Kelly to make him wait for the doctor to come out to talk to them, Kelly Brackett obligingly appeared. He shoved his hands into his lab coat pocket and his mouth twitched slightly.
“Well?” Chet asked, too worried to pretend indifference.
“Well, Johnny’s blood pressure is still a bit lower than I would like and he isn’t making much of an attempt to breathe for himself, but apart from that, he looks good.” Brackett sat down, urging the other men to do the same. “We’re taking supportive measures for the moment, but Johnny basically needs to sleep this off. He could remain asleep for the next 24 hours quite easily. Of course, because of the amount of diazepam in his system, we aren’t giving him any additional sedation, so we will keep a very close eye on him so that we are aware of when he starts to wake up and fight the vent.”
“Could this overdose do any… damage?” Cap asked, reluctant to put his thoughts into words, but he needed to know if he was going to get his paramedic back unimpaired.
“No, no neurological damage,” Brackett assured him. “Most likely, when Johnny does wake up, he’ll be a bit jittery and bad tempered, but he will get over that fairly quickly. He’s going to take a while before he feels like normal because diazepam doesn’t disperse straight away. A week or so off and he’ll be back to his usual hyperactive self.”
“Thanks, doc,” Cap replied. “What about Roy? Can we see him after we’ve seen Johnny?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s sleeping right now, but he’s not been hurt – just in shock. We want to keep him until we’re sure he’s feeling better. He’ll probably go home in the morning.” Brackett smiled. “You can go in for a few minutes, then visit Roy. But if Roy’s asleep, please don’t wake him. He needs to rest.”
************************
When Roy woke later on, he felt much better. Joanne was sitting by his bed and a talk with her usually was enough to set him straight. Sure enough, when he confessed his worries to her, she gently pointed out that he had had no option but to do as he was told by the gunman and if any of the doctors started to say otherwise, she would have no hesitation in sorting them out! Knowing that Joanne would do just that, Roy began to relax. All he needed now was to hear Johnny say he didn’t blame Roy.
“How is Johnny?” he asked Joanne.
“Sleeping peacefully when I looked in on him,” Joanne replied. “He’s a bit pale and he’s still on the ventilator, but Dr Brackett says he expects him to wake up sometime in the next 24 hours. His blood pressure is normal again and Dixie says that’s a good sign.”
“It is,” Roy agreed. “Can I see him? And when do I get out of here?”
“The answer to both questions is tomorrow, mister,” Joanne answered playfully. “Now, do you want something to eat, since you slept through dinner and would you like to see the rest of the crew? They are back to see you between runs right now.”
“Yes to both questions,” Roy agreed. He did feel hungry.
While Joanne got a nurse to rustle up some food, Roy told his shift-mates what had happened in the house. In return, they told him what the cops had told them about Alice’s tragic death. “I think Mary has been taken to a rest home,” Cap concluded. “The police are looking to see if she has any other relatives that she could stay with, but until then, she can’t stay in her own home – it’s a mess.”
“Nobody could blame her if she never wanted to live there again,” Roy commented. The only real memory he had of the house was the stench of blood and cordite. He couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down his spine.
All too soon, Roy was left alone with his thoughts. He had tried to persuade the nurse to take him to see Johnny, but strict orders had been left that he was not to leave his bed that night and eventually, he fell back to sleep. His slumber was not peaceful, with visions of Johnny’s death tormenting his rest. Come morning, Roy was more than glad to hear the daytime bustle starting up outside his door.
He was staring at the end of his breakfast when Dixie opened his door next morning and pushed a wheelchair in. “You want to see that partner of yours?” she asked, smiling at the perplexed look on Roy’s face.
“Yes,” Roy agreed and scrambled out of bed. He was still slightly shaky on his feet, but the feeling departed quickly as he donned a robe over the hospital gown and took his place in the chair. “How is Johnny this morning?”
“I don’t know,” Dix replied. “I haven’t seen him yet myself. I thought we could both sneak up before my shift starts.”
ICU was bustling as usual but Johnny lay undisturbed by nurses. An IV dripped clear fluid into his veins and the ventilator hissed and clicked away. Apart from the fact he was a little pale, Johnny looked as though he was simply sleeping.
“Has he shown any signs of waking up yet?” Roy asked, touching his partner’s lax hand through the bedrail.
“Not yet,” Dix replied steadily. “But it’s probably a little too soon. Kel thinks it more likely to be this afternoon.” She flipped through his chart. “Everything looks good. All his vitals are normal.”
“Can I stay for a while?” Roy asked.
“Ten minutes, no more,” Dixie warned. She patted Johnny’s other hand. “I’ll see you when you wake up, Tiger,” she promised.
Left alone, Roy leaned forward. “Johnny, I’m so sorry for what I did yesterday, but I had no choice. I hope you know that, too and I hope you can forgive me. I wish I could have been more help when you tried to overpower that guy, but at least Mary got out unhurt. That’s the main thing, isn’t it?” Silence reigned for a while and then Roy sighed. “Hurry and wake up, huh?”
**********************
Someone was calling his name and as Johnny struggled to open eyes that seemed to be lead-weighted, he began to gag and choke on the tube in his throat. “Take it, easy, Johnny,” soothed a familiar voice. “You’re breathing over the vent, so just relax.”
Why am I in Rampart this time? Johnny wondered foggily. He felt as though his head had been stuffed with cotton, his limbs lethargic although he suddenly felt anxious, his heart rate increasing. He pulled in a deep breath, wishing with all his might that the tube might magically disappear.
“He’s doing great,” Brackett’s voice said, and Johnny finally persuaded his eyes to open. He blinked wearily at the doctor and raised an arm to point at the tube. “I’ll take it out in a few minutes, Johnny,” Brackett promised. “Just let me finish checking your vitals.” He leaned over the prone paramedic and listened to his chest, mouth compressed in concentration. Straightening, Kel glanced at Dixie.
“BP’s 120/80, respirations are 14, pulse 76,” Dixie obliged.
“Good.” Brackett smiled at Johnny. “Are you ready to lose that tube?”
Nodding, Johnny suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. Was he ready? Who was Brackett kidding?
Removing a vent tube was never pleasant, but Johnny was soon sipping cool water through a straw. “What happened?” he asked, fighting a wave of sleep.
“What do you remember?” Brackett countered and this time Johnny couldn’t restrain himself and rolled his eyes. Why did doctors always answer questions with questions? Nonetheless, he trawled through his memories. Everything seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort and the siren song of sleep was not far away, but Johnny persevered. “We were on a call,” he mumbled. “And there was someone…” His eyes flew open and he made an abortive effort to sit upright. “He had a gun!” Johnny cried.
“Easy, easy,” Dix soothed. “You’re safe now.” She put her hands on his shoulders to prevent him rising.
“What about Roy?” Johnny demanded. “And… and… the old woman?” His foggy mind didn’t give him Mary’s name.
“Both completely unhurt,” Brackett replied. “Mary took your advice and got out when she got the chance.”
“Good.” Johnny’s eyes closed for a moment, but then he forced them open again. “Doc, what’s wrong with me?”
“You got an overdose of diazepam,” Brackett explained. “Roy was forced to give it to you. Luckily, he was able to cause a distraction that allowed the police to enter the house in the nick of time before both you and he were shot.”
“Good ol’ Roy,” Johnny murmured. Johnny was fighting sleep but there was one more thing he needed to know. “When do I get out of here?”
The indignation caused by the almost hysterical laughter that was his only answer forced the paramedic’s eyes open for only a moment before he succumb to slumber once more.
**********************
“I don’t know why I can’t go home,” Johnny complained the next day to his shift mates. “I feel fine!”
“Apart from the fact you’re as bad tempered as can be,” Roy replied calmly, “Dr Brackett wants to make sure that you aren’t falling asleep every two minutes, because he knows that when you go home, you won’t rest and he doesn’t want you driving until all that stuff has cleared your system.”
The sulky look on Johnny’s face was as good as an admission that Roy had his partner pegged. Johnny was not good at resting and would not for all the tea in China admit that he still felt sleepy and lethargic a lot of the time.
“Better to be safe than sorry, pal,” Cap reminded Johnny.
Deflating as his bad temper departed as suddenly as it came, Johnny nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed and then had to stifle a huge yawn.
“I think that’s our cue,” Stanley observed and he, Mike, Marco and Chet took their leave.
Roy remained. Johnny rubbed his eyes and yawned again. This was the first time the two had had some time alone. “Lieutenant Crockett told me what you did to Peter Revels,” Johnny offered.
“I had to do something,” Roy replied. He averted his gaze. “I hadn’t been much help up until then.”
“Roy, we were at gunpoint,” Johnny reminded him. “I blew it by making a move too soon and I paid for it.” He gestured to the bed he was lying in. He nudged his partner’s arm until Roy met his eyes. “This is not your fault, its mine.”
“Johnny, you took the only chance we had had until then,” Roy reminded him. “I’m just sorry it didn’t work out. I’m sorry for giving you the diazepam.”
“I’m not sorry you did,” Johnny countered. Roy looked puzzled, so he went on, “If you hadn’t given it to me, Peter would have blown my head off and we both know that. I’m recovering from the overdose, Roy. But I wouldn’t have recovered from being shot at that range.” He coloured. “So… thanks, partner. Thanks for saving my life.”
Smiling, feeling truly at peace for the first time in days, Roy smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The End
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