Burn, Baby, Burn

By The Twits

 The small cluttered room stank of the sharp scent of gasoline. Other less recognizable chemical odors accompanied the first. Shelves of clear bottles lined the walls. The glass glittered under the single bare bulb that provided illumination. Wire and pipe lay in the corner of the workbench awaiting future use. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed loud in the silent room as it blended with the soft breathing of the lone occupant.

The man seated at the bench was tall and gangly. Wild, unkempt red hair framed a wide, pockmarked face adorned with stern, twisted lips. He shoved his glasses up on his nose, oblivious to the fact that he was adding more fingerprints to the smudged and dirty lenses. The man grinned as he twisted the rag into the last of three bottles situated before him. He then carefully placed the bottles into a small box. With a glance at the clock, he realized it was time to go.

Thirty minutes later, the red-haired man stood before his target and admired his choice of victims. With a chuckle, he lit the first rag and hurled the bottle through the broken window. The procedure was repeated twice more, and he waited to make sure his babies worked before rushing to his car and driving away.

~~~E!~~~

His co-workers from A-shift were gathered around the table with morning cups of coffee and doughnuts when Johnny Gage came careening into the room. The cheerful greeting on his lips disintegrated as he noticed their serious and somber expressions.

“Hey, why the long faces?”

Marco was the first to speak. “We were just talking about the big fire 95s responded to last night.”

“Oh, yeah? I didn’t hear the news this morning. What was it?” Johnny helped himself to coffee and sat down at the table.

“An abandoned warehouse. Went up like a match,” Chet answered.

Captain Stanley responded to Chet’s statement. “There’s reason it went up so fast. From what I understand, they found evidence that the fire was started by Molatov cocktails thrown through the windows.”

Johnny sipped his coffee before speaking. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A couple of guys from 95s were treated for smoke inhalation, and one from 24s broke his hand,” came his partner’s reply.

“Man, this is the third one in the last month. First the abandoned store, then that old bank, now this warehouse. Do they think it’s the same person?”

“Yeah, after last night, Headquarters thinks we may have a serial arsonist on our hands. That was one of the announcements for roll call this morning.”

Stoker looked up from his cup. “And now the questions are why is he burning them down and where will he strike next?”

~~~E!~~~

The red-haired man watched the noon news from the electronics section of a department store. Seeing the report of the fire he started the night before at the warehouse played out on several screens at once gave the man a high he couldn’t obtain with any kind of drug. This rush was much more satisfying.

An elderly couple shopping for a television set looked the man up and down, frowning at his unkempt appearance. But the arsonist was too engrossed in the scene on the screens to notice. Suddenly his concentration was broken when a salesman approached.

“May I help you, sir?”

“What?” The red-haired man turned to face the clerk.

The young salesman glanced over his shoulder at his co-workers across the room near a cash register. He hadn’t wanted to wait on this scummy guy, but they’d all made a quick bet and he’d lost, making him the one to approach the customer.

“What kind of television set are you interested in?”

“Oh. . .I’m not.”

“Sir?”

A sly grin spread across the pock-marked face as the red-haired man turned and exited the store, ignoring the employee’s question. The news on the warehouse fire was over and now he had something else to think about. For the first time there were injuries with this fire he set. Hearing that added to the adrenaline rush.

What if I start lighting up places a little more populated?

The thought lingered in his mind as he headed home to look for his next target. He’d pull out the map he kept in his room and see what area drew him to it.

~~~E!~~~

Late in the day, the men of Station 51 were toned out to a warehouse fire. The crew ran to their respective vehicles and pulled out into the street.

"I wonder if this is anything to do with the arsonist." Johnny pondered, as he watched out the windshield of the squad.

"A warehouse fire. . .could be. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah. You know, maybe the guy'll slip up sometime and they'll catch 'im in the act."

"If it is a guy," Roy agreed. "It could be a woman setting them, you know."

After traveling a few miles, he turned the squad onto the street where the burning building was located.

~~~E!~~~

Bringing the trucks to a stop, the engine crew donned their gear and joined Engines 18 and 45 in the battle against the flames. The paramedics stood ready as they waited directions from Captain Stanley. Watching the warehouse that was nearly engulfed in flames, they hoped no one was inside when the fire started. After a minute, the two had an answer.

"Roy, John. . .unless there was a vagrant inside at the time, it's been confirmed this was an abandoned building. But we have a man from Engine 18 down on the other side. They're bringing him around now. Take care of him, then get with me if he doesn't need to be transported."

"Got it, Cap," Roy said. He and Johnny saw the fireman being helped to their area. The man was coughing, apparently suffering from smoke inhalation.

Across the way, the red-haired arsonist watched from a great distance with others who had stopped their cars to see the incredible fire. This one was turning out just as he had planned and was going to be his last empty building to target. He decided the next one was going to send these firemen into a building to search for victims.

~~~E!~~~

The paramedics treated the fireman with oxygen. After consulting Rampart and starting an IV, Johnny settled himself next to Hal Edwards in the back of the ambulance. Roy gave the back doors the customary two slaps and finished putting the equipment in the squad. The situation with the fires was starting to get out of hand. Arson was such an ugly business.

~~~E!~~~

Arriving at the hospital, Roy poured himself a cup of coffee while he waited at the base station for Johnny to come out of the treatment room. When the younger man finally appeared, Roy handed him an empty Styrofoam cup.

“How’s Hal?”

“Doing fine,” Johnny answered as he filled the cup with the brew. “Morton wants to keep him overnight for observation. He’s coughing pretty heavily and his lungs aren’t one hundred percent clear. Doc thinks he’ll be fine though.” Johnny stared at his partner. He could tell something was bugging him. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No, why?”

Johnny shrugged and Dixie nearly ran into him as she rounded the corner. “Sorry, Johnny. What’s new with you two?”

“Oh, nothing much,” replied Gage.

“Sure is a shame about all these fires,” she said as she dropped a stack of charts on the desk. “I hear they think it’s arson.”

Looking at the head nurse, the two paramedics nodded. “It’s a good possibility,” replied Roy. “How’d you hear that?” He continued to sip at his coffee.

“I hear the guys talking when they come through here and then there was that bit on the news. Doesn’t leave much room for one to think anything else. Wonder how long before someone gets caught or killed in one of these fires.”

Johnny shook his head sadly. “I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Same here but – “

The nurse was interrupted when she heard a call issuing from a room down the hall. “Dix? Can you give us a hand in here?” It was Dr. Kelly Brackett seeking her capable assistance.

“Coming, Kel,” she said. Before reporting to the treatment room she turned and looked at her two favorite paramedics. “Do me a favor, guys.”

“Yeah, Dix?” asked Johnny with a grin, tossing his empty Styrofoam cup in the trashcan.

A sad smile appeared on her face, “Be careful out there will you?”

“You bet.”

~~~E!~~~

Meanwhile, back at the station, the engine crew was getting ready for bed. The day had been long and exhausting. A final cup of coffee each and they were making a beeline for the latrine and the dorm.

No one said much. What more could they say when there was some nut out there deliberately setting fires?

The two paramedics entered the locker room where the others were still gathered and were soon ready to turn in for the night themselves. Hank Stanley poked his head in the doorway leading from the dorm. “How is Edwards?”

“Doing fine, Cap. They’re keeping him for observation but he should be going home tomorrow.”

“Great news. I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

“So are we,” replied Gage.

The weary firefighters carried their turnouts into the dorm and crawled into their beds, hoping for a peaceful night.

~~~E!~~~

The arsonist lay awake for a long time trying to pick his next target. He wanted a building that wasn’t empty but was not ready for his ultimate goal. He smirked wickedly as he daydreamed about the reactions of the firefighters when he was ready for the final showdown.

No, he would have to work his way up to that; now wasn’t the right time. He continued to grin and hum as he contemplated several different locations. He had studied the map earlier and was trying to decide between two potential targets.

Hell, maybe he’d hit them both. Now that would be really exciting. Two for the price of one! The red-haired man laughed. If he timed it right, he just might be able to pull it off and still enjoy both fires.

He chose his next victims and was finally able to fall asleep. He realized the next several days were going to be difficult but he would just have to exercise self-control if he wanted this to work.

~~~E!~~~

Several Shifts later:

Hank held a short meeting after roll call to catch his men up on the latest news from Headquarters regarding the arson investigation. It was going slow and not much promising evidence had been found other than the scant remains of several Molotov cocktails. The men went about their chores but these days they were quieter than usual. He had discussed this with several of the other captains and they were noticing similar behavior in their own crews. Hank hoped the investigators found some concrete evidence soon, before the situation took its toll on the firefighters of L.A. County.

Late that evening, Station 51’s A-shift settled down to what they hoped would be an uninterrupted night of sleep. The day had been relatively uneventful and they were wishing the night would bring more of the same.

The klaxons sounded at 2:15 a.m. sending them and several other engine companies to a fire at an old industrial park. The buildings were no longer used for business but it was rumored that they were frequented by those less fortunate and without stable places to live.

Nearing the abandoned site they saw more than one building ablaze. Cap quickly called dispatch to advise them that even more engine companies were going to be needed to take care of business tonight. A command post was quickly set up and the companies present were distributed to try and contain the fire till more help arrived. The paramedics suited up and prepared to search for possible victims. Everyone was on edge as they thought about the potential for tragedy.

The arsonist sat in his car several blocks away, snickering to himself as he thought about the firefighters searching all those buildings looking for people to save. Yes, this is going to be a good night after all, he thought, a smirk on his face.

~~~E!~~~

Hank Stanley watched as his paramedics emerged from the building yet again, each man with a victim slung across his back in the traditional fireman’s carry. The captain couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be able to find all of the homeless people sequestered within the burning buildings. The firemen had already pulled out fourteen victims, their injuries ranging from smoke inhalation to minor burns. Unfortunately, in this kind of scenario, there was no way to tell how many people might still be trapped. So Hank and the other captains were repeatedly forced to send their men back into the burning buildings. Each time, the men in charge prayed that their subordinates would make it back out unharmed.

“Everything going okay, Hank?”

Chief McConnikee’s voice was a welcome interruption to his current train of thought, and Cap turned to greet his superior.

“So far, so good, Chief. My paramedics just went back inside, but they said it’s getting pretty hot in there. Any chance we can get another engine on this end?”

“Sure thing. Engine 26 should be here any minute; I’ll have them join you over here. This is a bad one, Hank. I wish we could find out who’s starting them.”

The chief’s voice was full of concern, and Hank realized that as much as he was distressed about his own crew, their chief was worrying about all of them.

“Me too, Chief. Me too.”

McConnikee hurried away as Hank returned to his duties, each man anxious to see an end to this fire, and hoping for some lead as to who was behind it.

~~~E!~~~

As he moved slowly forward, Johnny searched carefully for any sign of other victims. But in the thickening smoke, it was growing harder to see, and he wondered how much longer they’d be able to keep this up.

“Johnny! To your left!”

Although Roy was directly behind Gage, his voice was barely audible inside his facemask. Turning slightly, Johnny could just make out the form of another vagrant. The two men hurried forward and quickly assessed the unconscious man; then Johnny helped get the man onto Roy’s shoulders.

“Go ahead, Roy. I’m going to check this corner, then I’ll catch up with you.”

“No, Johnny. We need to stick together.”

Shaking his head, Johnny answered firmly.

“Time’s runnin’ out on us, and we don’t know how many other people might be in here. Get that guy out, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Knowing it was useless to argue, Roy turned back towards the doorway, cursing inwardly at his headstrong partner. He would’ve been even more worried if he’d seen the gauge on Johnny’s air tank. Lengthening his stride in an effort to complete this rescue and get back to the search, Roy was relieved when he met Chet and Marco moving towards him.

“Johnny’s still back there! He wanted to finish the sweep while I took this guy out.”

“Okay, Roy. We’ll find him.” Chet’s muffled voice answered.

“Thanks!” Roy hurried on towards the opening; grateful that the man he carried wasn’t any heavier. They’d retrieved numerous victims already, and the strain was starting to take its toll, but Roy was determined to get back inside. I’ll be right back, partner.

~~~E!~~~

Johnny walked carefully among the boxes and barrels that were stacked along the south wall of the building. The alarm on his air tank had already sounded; still he wouldn’t turn back. He knew that this would be the perfect area for someone to use for sleeping quarters, especially if they didn’t want to be found. So he continued his search just a little longer, certain that he’d be able to get outside in time. His search was finally completed, and as he pulled his last bit of air from his now empty tank, Johnny turned around to leave.

Moving quickly, Johnny accidentally bumped into a stack of containers, which were balanced precariously near a stairway. Within seconds, he was unconscious on the floor, boxes and barrels scattered around him.

~~~E!~~~

Chet could barely see where he was going, only the reflective ‘Lopez’ shining at him from his friend’s turnout coat kept him focused.

“Do you see him?” he hollered up to Marco.

“Not yet. Wait . . I think I see . . .yeah, over there!”

Following his friend closely, it took a minute for Chet to see the form of his shift mate. Marco was already kneeling next to Johnny, checking him for injuries. A movement behind him startled Chet, and he looked up, surprised to see that Roy had already rejoined them.

“What happened?” Roy’s voice was filled with anxiety.

“Don’t know. We just found him.” Marco answered.

“It’s getting hot, we need to get out of here, now!” Chet urged.

The other men nodded in agreement, and they hurried to get Johnny into position. Before Roy could stop them, Marco had pulled Johnny up and was positioning him across Chet’s back. There was no time to argue about it, so Roy merely followed them out, his hand steadying the unconscious form of his partner.

~~~E!~~~

The arsonist watched the conflagration from his vantage point, thrilled to see the flurry of activity that he, alone, had instigated. The feeling of power and control was exhilarating and he found himself enjoying the ‘rush’ it gave him. Fireman were hurrying in and out of the two buildings, searching for victims and valiantly fighting the fire, while outside the structures sat numerous emergency vehicles, their lights flashing brilliantly against the orange blaze. The sounds of men’s voices rose in excitement, drifting over to him over the hum of the engines. The scene was incredible, but even at its climax; the man responsible found himself hungering for more.

As he continued to view the blaze, the man’s focus suddenly shifted as he saw three firemen coming out of the nearest structure. It was obvious that they were having difficulty, each of them hunched over as they struggled to escape the heat of the fire. What was even more exciting was the sight of another fireman slung across the back of the tallest man. The spectator’s eyes widened as he watched the man being gently lowered to the ground and then a flurry of activity as other firemen hurried back and forth from a small red truck, each laden with boxes of medical paraphernalia. Within a short time, the injured man was loaded into an ambulance, and another fireman climbed in beside him.

As the emergency vehicle pulled away, the arsonist leaned back, a slow smile widening across his face. He was acutely aware that this last scene had been, by far, the most exciting one of the evening. He’d watched as other victims had been extricated from his fires, but the sight of the firemen rallying around one of their own was undeniably the most thrilling of all. An idea sparked in the man’s brain, and he almost laughed aloud in his delight. Glancing at the rescue vehicle, the man noted the number 51 marked on its door.

~~~E!~~~

Dixie made her way through the hallway, increasingly worried at the number of injured firemen who were showing up at the hospital. Most of them were merely suffering from minor smoke inhalation, although there had been a few burns and one man with a broken arm. Just as she reached her desk, Betty met her with a chart in hand.

“Could you take this to Dr. Brackett in Treatment Room Three? Dr. Early is waiting for me in four.”

“Sure, Betty.” Accepting the new patient’s chart, Dixie hurried into the treatment room, surprise flashing across her face when she spied the patient on the gurney.

“Johnny? What happened to you?”

“Hi, Dix.” The familiar grin was somewhat subdued, but a grin nonetheless.

Dr. Brackett straightened as he pulled the stethoscope back into place around his neck, glancing at Dixie as she stepped beside him.

“Dix, let’s get some pictures of this thick head.”

The nurse recognized the teasing undertones and smiled at Kel as she made a notation on the paramedic’s chart. She glanced casually at the other paramedic, leaning quietly against a counter across the room. Although Roy looked relieved, there was also another expression evident. If she didn’t know better, Dixie was sure that Roy was angry.

“So, Doc, when can I get back to work?” Johnny insisted.

Brackett didn’t even try to hide his grin at Johnny’s persistence. He, too, was relieved that there was nothing seriously wrong with the young paramedic.

“Well, if the x-rays come back negative, like I expect, that’ll confirm that we’re dealing with mild dehydration and smoke inhalation. If there’s no concussion, then you should be fine to work your next shift. But, I would like to keep you here for a few hours, just as a precaution.”

Even the last bit of news didn’t dampen Johnny’s relief. He wasn’t fond of spending time at Rampart as a patient, but a few hours were much easier to deal with than a few days, or even an overnight stay. And the fact that he would only miss the rest of this shift was something to be thankful for.

“Thanks, Doc.” Johnny smiled gratefully.

Kel patted the young man’s shoulder before he left.

“You’re welcome, Johnny. Let’s just stop making a habit of this, okay?”

After the doctor had disappeared in the hall, Roy moved closer to his friend. He fumbled absently with the HT for a moment, before staring intently at his partner. Johnny returned the solemn look for a moment and then allowed himself to grin up at Roy.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just glad you’re alright. But remind me to talk to you later about working as a team.”

Roy’s faint smile along with his quick clasp of Johnny’s arm was evidence of his forgiveness, and Johnny’s smile grew wider.

“Chet’s here with the squad, so I’m going to head back to the fire now,” Roy continued.

Under his breath Johnny urged "be careful, Partner," but aloud he kept the tone light.

“Just don’t forget to come back and get me.”

It was Roy’s turn to grin widely as he headed for the door.

“Yeah . . .”

However, as he entered the busy hallway and recognized several firemen from Station 8, Roy’s smile faded. This situation was getting way out of control. He hoped that this time, someone would have information that would help the authorities find whoever was behind this rash of fires, before it was too late.

~~~E!~~~

DeSoto opened the driver’s side door of the squad and motioned for Chet to move over to the passenger seat. Smoothly sliding in behind the steering wheel, he slammed the door.

“So how’s Gage?” Chet quietly voiced his concern. His expression reflected worry beneath the grit and grime.

“He’s fine. He’ll be back next shift.”

“Good. Man, Roy, this is getting scary.”

“It’s already scary, Chet. I’m afraid of what’s gonna happen if the investigators don’t get a break soon.”

~~~E!~~~

Milton Garrett sat staring at the newspaper in front of him. A satisfied grin lit his homely face. The press had finally given him a nickname, the Molotov Madman. He knew they’d eventually get around to it, just like they did with those infamous serial killers he’d read about. This nickname had a nice ring to it. They ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. Last night’s fire and resultant injuries had been mildly fulfilling, but he was eager to step up his plan to wreak havoc and send the county further into a spiral of fear.

Garrett sighed as he placed the paper in his stack of collectibles. He descended into his lab, his world, and sat at the workbench. It would be a couple of days now before he struck again. But in the meantime he was going to have a little fun. Pulling the phone book from its usual place on the wooden shelf, the arsonist scanned through the tissue thin pages. After several minutes of perusal and furious scratching of his pen, Milton nodded in satisfaction. Six names, in blue ink, now adorned the notebook paper: Rampart, Applewood Nursing Home, Fire Station 51, Jensen-Haas School for the Deaf, The Golden Theater, and Sheriff’s Office – Harbor Substation.

With a hearty chuckle, he set his pen to paper again, purposely using his left hand.

“Are you next? Maybe yes. Maybe no. Guess you have to wait and see.”

With a flourish, the arsonist signed the note using his new moniker. He repeated this same message on five more sheets of college-ruled paper and folded them in half. Mulling it over, Milton decided that after a big breakfast he’d go deliver his missives.

~~~E!~~~

Roy headed for Dixie’s desk at Rampart before going up to get Johnny. It was late morning and the senior paramedic had already been home to shower, change clothes and eat a decent breakfast.

The nurse glanced over at Roy, interrupting an intense conversation she was having with Kel Brackett. The worried expression on her face had Roy concerned.

“What happened?” Roy asked, skipping all the usual greetings. “Is something wrong?”

“You haven’t heard . . .” Brackett said more as a statement than a question. “That’s right. You’ve been off duty a few hours.”

“What is it?”

The doctor folded his arms across his chest. “Apparently that arsonist they named the Molotov Madman has gotten bolder. We received a note here this morning suggesting Rampart may be his next hit.”

Roy’s mouth dropped open in shock. He looked from Brackett, to Dixie, to the doctor again, disbelief on his face. He wished they were kidding, but now that they had mentioned the threat, Roy recalled seeing a couple of patrol cars parked nearby, an officer in each one.

“That’s not the only bad news,” Dixie said.

“It’s not?” Roy couldn’t imagine there being more.

“No,” Brackett answered. “When I contacted the police and fire department, I was told that five other notes making the same threat were delivered this morning to other potential sites.” The doctor paused, not sure how to break the rest of the news to DeSoto. He sighed. “Roy, one of the other locations is Station 51.”

The paramedic stared straight ahead, an odd feeling coming over him. An arson threat against their station. Why? He quickly tried to think of anyone they’d recently been in contact with that was a patient or a bystander. None stood out as a likely suspect.

“But why? Why us or Rampart?”

Dixie looked at Kel as if waiting for him to have all the answers.

“Well, right now he’s got people at the six locations on edge and wondering when this will happen and *if* it will. I’d say that’s a large part of it right there. Power.”

Roy nodded, a solemn expression on his face. “Did you tell Johnny?”

“Yes. The police wanted to question him on anything he might have seen at the fire last night. They’ll probably be contacting you too.”

The paramedic nodded again. “Sure. But I don’t think I can be of any help.”

“Johnny wasn’t either. But you never know,” Brackett said, a slight twitch to his mouth. “Sometimes it just takes one little fact someone remembers to break these kinds of cases.”

“I hope they get this guy before he makes one of those threats a reality.”

“We all do, Roy. We all do.”

~~~E!~~~

Roy walked into Johnny’s room and gave a small wave to the younger man sitting on the edge of the bed, once again in his uniform from the night before. At the sight of his partner, Gage quickly got to his feet, glancing at his watch.

“I was beginning to think you forgot me.”

“Well, I thought about leaving you here. But I didn’t like the idea of a substitute partner next shift and so I figured, what the heck.”

“Hey, I think the world of you too,” Johnny teased.

Roy grew serious. “So what do you think about the latest with this arsonist?”

“The notes?”

DeSoto nodded. “Anyone who would consider torching a hospital. . .”

“I know. The guy isn’t playing with a full deck.”

“Or the lady. Remember, we need to keep an open mind here in case we see anything.”

“What if we’re on duty, sleeping, and he. . .uh. . .she. . .” Johnny shrugged. “What if this arsonist sets fire to the station?”

“I don’t know. But I think I’d take that over Rampart. At least then there's only six of us to worry about and not a building with numerous victims in it, some already ill or seriously injured.”

Gage agreed. “I know what you mean. I wonder what other places were threatened?”

“I’m sure Cap’ll brief us if nothing happens before our shift starts.” Roy shook his head. “One thing’s for sure. We are not splitting up and leaving the other in a burning structure again. Agreed?”

Johnny gave a wry grin. “Agreed.”

The two men left the room. As the door closed behind them Johnny added, “I’ve seen enough of hospital rooms for awhile. I don’t need to rack up more time here.”

~~~E!~~~

 
Roy dropped Johnny off at the station to pick up his Land Rover. While there, the two paramedics decided to check with the other shift on duty to see what the latest news was. The patrol car sitting across the street with an officer watching the building was a reminder that the threat from the Molotov Madman was all too real and had to be taken seriously.

~~~E!~~~

All seemed quiet in Los Angeles County for the next several days. People were on edge because of the rash of arson fires and the six potential targets were being closely watched in hopes of catching the Molotov Madman. Life settled down as the days passed. This was the way it always seemed to be when the media coverage eased up in favor of other hot stories.

Milton Garrett was biding his time. He intended to choose his target with care. He wanted this one to be the one. The one that would make him famous and give him the thrill he desired the most. He stared at photographs of his six potential victims and contemplated which would be the 'winner'.

~~~E!~~~

Nurse Andrea Carson sniffed the air as she placed a box of supplies in the small room to the side of the Base Station. She thought something didn't seem right but then again she no longer smelled it. Shrugging her shoulders, she returned to the pile of charts that needed to be filed.

The ER was busier than usual this Sunday morning. All the treatment rooms were full and the waiting room still had several patients that needed to be seen. Dr. Morton glanced at the seven people still waiting and set a chart down on the desk at the base station. Since he’d come on at seven, they had treated fifteen patients in just under ninety minutes. Not a record, but he was thankful some of them required little more than a few aspirin and going home to rest.

Nurse Carson rounded the corner and he watched her pick up the pile of charts they had completed. The look on her face led him to believe that something was amiss.

"What's wrong, Andrea?"

"Oh, probably nothing. Might just be the ventilation system. I thought I smelled something funny in the supply room, then it was gone."

"Sure you're okay? You seem bothered by it."

"I'm okay. Gotta get these charts filed before they multiply," she answered with a chuckle.

"That they will. We still have more people in the waiting room to be seen and no empty rooms." Morton sighed and picked up the chart for the next patient in line.

~~~E!~~~

Roll call had ended and the men of Station 51 were busy with their assigned daily duties. There had been no new information from headquarters and while still concerned, the men went about their business in the normal fashion.

Johnny finished with his mopping and went to his locker to retrieve a letter he wanted to finish reading. Out in the apparatus bay Mike heard Gage shouting and ran to see what was wrong. There stood the paramedic, dripping, a puddle forming on the floor at his feet.

"I'm gonna kill him, Mike. I swear!"

"What's going on ? " Cap asked from the doorway. Upon seeing Gage, he knew what had happened. "The Phantom?"

The murderous glare in Johnny's eyes was his only reply. "Go on, get changed. I'll deal with him." The door swung closed behind the captain and he could be heard muttering, “Sometimes these guys are worse than kids. What did I do to deserve this?”

"Johnny?"

"Yeah, Mike?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. But he's going to pay for this. Some day. . .soon."

Stoker nodded and left his colleague to change into a dry uniform.

~~~E!~~~

Two hours later another nurse at the hospital was asking if anyone else had smelled something funny. "I just got off the elevator and I swear I smelled smoke."

"No I haven't noticed anything," was the reply from one of her co-workers.

Within minutes the unmistakable sound of the fire alarm rang out through Rampart General. Fear and panic could be sensed in the air as the staff went about the emergency procedures they had been trained for in the event this ever happened. Most were grateful for the recent refresher they had been forced to undertake in how to handle the situation. Doctors, nurses, and orderlies swung into action to help evacuate the hospital and move patients to safer areas.

~~~E!~~~

The klaxons sounded sending the men of Station 51 to a fire at Rampart General. Each man felt the icy fingers of foreboding spread through them as they feared the worst. Was this the next target of the Molotov Madman?

They arrived at the scene with several other engine companies. The chief was busy setting up the command post, and directing firefighters to fight the blaze and aid in the evacuation process. The blaze was in a basement storage room. Containment was needed quickly because it was near a storage room with chemicals for the laboratory.

Inside the hospital, things weren't going so smoothly. It was hard to keep people from panicking as they feared they were the next victims of the mad arsonist. Paramedics rushed about trying to aid in the evacuation of the patients from the lower floors which were in the most danger from the smoke.

Firefighters worked to battle the blaze in the storage room before it spread to the laboratory and beyond. Fortunately the fire was not completely out of control and it was easily contained. The chief and several investigators couldn't wait to get in there and find out what started it. Being in the lowest level of the hospital, they wondered how the arsonist had gotten in and set the fire if indeed it was him or her.

~~~E!~~~

Andrea Carson and several other nurses were waiting outside the hospital with the patients that had been in the treatment and waiting rooms. It was mass confusion outside but at least they were safe. Several doctors and orderlies were moving about to make sure everyone was being tended to.

Johnny and Roy arrived outside the ER with two lab techs who were overcome by the smoke. Dr. Morton helped ease the two men to the ground and began the assessment while the paramedics gathered their equipment. Fortunately the men seemed to respond to the oxygen immediately while the paramedics returned to the basement to search for more victims in the smoke.

All told there were seven staff members and two patients requiring care for smoke inhalation and one patient with a twisted ankle. A rather remarkable bit of luck considering that widespread panic could have resulted in fatalities.

~~~E!~~~

The arson investigators were going over the storage room with a fine-tooth comb. They were surprised to find several broken glass bottles sitting on the floor under what remained of a rather large pile of linens. The fire had spread quickly in the room that was used to store clean linens, towels, and scrubs.

The Chief looked over the broken bottles and noted that they weren't the same type used in the previous fires. Investigator Morris noted that the accelerant used didn't appear to be the same either. The police arrived and the evidence was bagged for transport to their lab to determine if any other information could be obtained.

The preliminary assessment determined that it wasn't the same MO, but they were going to wait for the final results from the lab to draw that conclusion.

~~~E!~~~

The weary firefighters from Engine and Squad 51 returned to their station. They were relieved that the situation wasn't worse but were also wondering if they still had something to be concerned about. Cleaning up, the men were quieter than usual.

Once the equipment was prepared for another call, the men went into the dayroom. The phone rang while the men were waiting for the coffee to be ready. Captain Stanley answered it. The men could tell by his facial expressions that the news wasn't good. After finishing the call and hanging up the telephone receiver, he sat at the table. He seemed to be trying to figure out what to tell them.

"Cap?" asked Marco. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I think. That was the chief. He wanted to let us know that while we were at Rampart there was another fire on the other side of town. At Applewood Nursing Home." He waited for that to sink in before he spoke again.

"That's the nursing home on the arsonist's list, isn't it?"

"Yeah, John, it is. Now before you all get excited, it turns out it was an electrical short that caused the fire. These odd coincidences sure are unnerving." The men nodded their heads in agreement.

Chet spoke up. "I don't know about you guys, but I could really use a cup of coffee now. Is it done yet?"

Marco replied that it was and they sat sipping their beverages and wondering if they would be more of a target now that two of the Madman's targets had fires on their own.

~~~E!~~~

Milton Garrett sat in his tiny apartment laughing about the recent fires being reported on the news. "Hmmm...my targets seem to be discounting themselves," he murmured. "Now, what to do? What to do."

He sat and stared at his list. He crossed off the hospital and the nursing home. "No fun in setting fire to someplace that's already been burned. And I was so looking forward to seeing the panic if I chose the hospital."

He continued to stare at his list, his eyes drawn to the number 51.

~~~E!~~~

The following night, Milton Garret watched as the engine and squad backed into the apparatus bay after returning from a late call to a fire. A fire he’d set across town to make everyone think the Molotov Madman had made his hit for the time being and there would be a few days before any of his aforementioned targets had to worry again. Apparently the plan worked, as not long after the firemen closed the bay doors, the policeman sitting watch across the street was dozing in his squad car.

The arsonist sat patiently in the shadows of a building across the street from Station 51, giving ample time for the men inside to get settled into bed for what they expected to be an uneventful night. An evil grin spread across his face as he thought about how surprised they’d be when their building was lit up like a bonfire.

With everything silent for over an hour, Garret made his move.

~~~E!~~~

Unable to sleep, Johnny slowly sat up, carefully tossing his covers aside so as not to disturb his partner in the bed near his. The dark-haired paramedic swung his legs over the side of his bed and, putting his feet into his boots, stood as he pulled his turnout pants up. Once the pants were securely in place with suspenders, he quietly made his way to the dayroom to get a glass of milk.

Standing in the light provided only by the open refrigerator, Gage heard a couple of footsteps coming from the apparatus bay. He slowly and methodically walked towards the doorway, allowing the refrigerator door to close on its own, never taking his eyes off his destination.

Shit, the paramedic thought. What if this is our arsonist? Then what am I gonna do?

He could feel his heart beat faster and harder as he neared the bay. Once he reached the doorway, Johnny peered into the room and met face-to-face with the cause of the noise.

“Cap!” he whispered loudly as he jumped back putting a hand to his chest.

“Sorry I scared ya, John. Oddly enough, I was just going to see if you were okay.”

Johnny nodded. “Yeah, I am. Or I was,” he said with a grin. “It’s okay, Cap. I’m just glad it was you.”

The two men were keeping their voices down to avoid any chance of waking the others. They stepped into the dayroom and Johnny went back to his idea to get a drink.

“So this Molotov Madman still has you bugged too, huh?” Hank asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“Yeah, kind of. Not all the time, but I guess more than I thought after just now.” He held up the carton of milk in a gesture of offering some to the captain. Stanley shook his head. Continuing on with the task, Johnny poured himself a glass of the white fluid, and then put the carton back in the refrigerator.

Both men turned their heads at the sound of someone in the bay again. But this time neither went to investigate.

“Probably Chet or Roy,” Johnny whispered. “The arsonist isn’t gonna try anything with both of us up.”

The captain nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair. Less than a minute later there was the sound of glass breaking and a 'whoosh' from the other room. The two men then exchanged alarmed glances as they rushed to investigate. Johnny missed the counter with his glass and it shattered on the floor behind his retreating heels.

~~~E!~~~

“My God!” Hank exclaimed at the flames already shooting up the wall that housed the dorm room. When they ran around to the other side of the engine, they saw the doorway to the dorm was blocked by flames, as was the locker room access. Hank immediately ran back and grabbed the mic at the podium, calling in the fire to dispatch. Johnny was already trying to figure a way to get his shiftmates out. As he was about to chance going in somehow, his captain had returned and grabbed him, forcing him back.

 

A second 'whoosh' was heard as Cap pulled Johnny just inside the dayroom.

"But, Cap!" Johnny pleaded.

"Not now, John. Help is on the way. I know you want to get them out. So do I! We need to keep our heads here."

A hiss and loud pop could be heard from the apparatus bay. Both men peered out of the doorway to see the engine shake as one of the rear tires blew.

"Cap, we gotta get the trucks out!"

"You’re right.” Hank knew the gas tanks were full and there were tanks of oxygen on both vehicles, as well as in the storage cupboard in the bay.

"All right, John. I'll move the engine. When I clear the doors, I want you to pull the squad out."

Johnny nodded. Quickly running over and grabbing a couple of towels that were near the sink, he handed one to Stanley after dampening them and kept the other for himself.

Hank stepped through the door and made his way to the engine, the cloth up over his nose and mouth.  The air in the bay was now heavy with smoke and the heat was becoming unbearable. He reached for the door handle and swore as the heated metal burned his ungloved hand. John ran to his side.

"Cap, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the older man lied, waving the paramedic off. “Let’s just clear the trucks out of here. Hit the switch on the door.”

Stanley climbed into the engine as he watched Gage hit the button to open the front bay door. He prayed that the influx of fresh air would not cause the one thing all firefighters feared...a back draft. That was something they definitely did not need right now. He then winced as the pain from his burned hand flared up. Still inside the bay, he kept his eyes on Gage as the paramedic climbed into the squad and started it up. Another tire blew as the Captain put the engine in gear and eased it forward.

By the time Engine 51 rolled into the driveway it had only the front two tires left. As feared, the incoming air caused the flames to grow higher and brighter. Thankfully there was no explosion but the situation was now more dire. After parking the squad outside of the apparatus bay, Gage pulled a line from the back of the engine and tried to stop the fire from spreading. The pressure wasn't correct but then again he had never studied the engineering panel with intent to test for the job.  Johnny wished he had paid more attention to what Mike did at the scene.

The officer that had been across the street in his car ran to help the others after calling in the fire over his radio. Seeing that Johnny had his hands full with the hose, the policeman grabbed on to another section and held tight, not sure he was ready to play fireman. Hank ran to Gage to hand him his turnout coat from the squad.

Johnny took the coat as he turned the hose over to Hank, the officer still helping, then took the nozzle part of the hose back from his captain. Hank ran to the engineering panel of the engine and readjusted the gauges. He also called dispatch to see where their help was. What had felt like hours was only a matter of minutes in real time.

John thought he heard faint yells coming from the other side of the fire. He fought to get closer to the dorm entrances. Doubting that he could be heard over the conflagration, he shouted to the men he hoped were still all right on the other side. He wanted them to know that help was on the way.

~~~E!~~~

The unmistakable sound of the Molotov cocktail bursting into flames outside the door to the dorm had Roy, Chet, Marco, and Mike up in seconds, but the heat and flames kept them from making an exit. Having donned their turnout pants and boots, the four firemen in the dorm quickly assessed their situation looking for a way out. Through the thin layer of hazy smoke filtering into the room, Roy squinted at the windows. Flames could be seen dancing at the glass.

Mike saw them the same time as DeSoto. “I can’t believe it. There’s a fire outside too.” The engineer’s words ended in a cough. He hurried over and placed his hands on the other door in the dorm room that led to the outside. It was already hot to the touch. Mike shook his head in answer to the questioning looks of the others. “With all the greenery that was growing out there, this fire’s gotta be around the whole-- 'cough'-- side of the station. I hope it doesn’t spread to the building beside us.”

 

Just as Mike had assumed, they were unable to escape from the rear locker room door as well. The fact that all access doors were closed was a good thing for them. It enabled the men to keep most of the smoke from entering their quarters by stuffing bed linens into the cracks at the base of the doors.

They wondered what they should do next, and where Captain Stanley and Johnny were. Neither man was in the dorm nor the latrine. Were they somewhere inside the building injured? Were they safe outside?

From somewhere outside the dorm in the bay, Roy heard a very faint yelling. He couldn’t make out all of the words, but it brought a small measure of relief knowing that at least Johnny was out there apparently trying to help.

~~~E!~~~

Johnny fought desperately to knock down the flames around the dorm, but the accelerant from the broken bottles had splashed all around, encouraging the greedy blaze. The fire was rapidly outgrowing the effectiveness of the water from the hose. Sweat soaked his dark hair and ran in rivulets down his reddened face as the heat became overwhelming. Coughing, he struggled to get closer to the dorm doorway. Just keeping his two hands on the hose was becoming difficult.

“John, come on. You have to get out,” Cap yelled before he too started coughing.

The junior paramedic’s attention to his task never wavered.

“Gage, that’s an order!”

It wasn’t until Captain Stanley’s hand landed on his shoulder that Johnny awoke from his self-imposed trance.

“Now, John!”

Though he knew better than to argue with his superior, the thought of the trapped men made him incautious.

“But, Cap, we can’t just . . .”

The captain’s grip on his shoulder tightened, warning Johnny not to protest any further. Still aiming water at the growing flames, he and Hank reluctantly backed out of the building. The far off whine of sirens signaled the approach of help.

“Cap! Cap, the other exits!”

Optimism swelled for a moment as Johnny shut off the hose and all three men raced around the side of the building.

Hope died away when Johnny saw the flames dancing around the doors, walls and windows on that side of the station.

~~~E!~~~

As soon as the fires were started, Milton Garrett bolted to the rear parking lot of the station and disappeared over the back wall. He ran towards a driveway leading to the back lot of another building. He could see the smoke already reaching up from the outside of the fire station. The red-haired man wanted to see the reactions of his victims inside, as the smoke overtook them, but he knew that was impossible. So he leaned against a wall in his hiding spot and conjured up his own images in his mind.

An evil grin spread across his face at the irony of firemen burning in a fire. “Let’s see you so called 'heroes' get out of this one.”

With the sound of sirens approaching, the arsonist casually made his way to another lot down the street from station, going unnoticed in the commotion around him. This was his chance to see the drama play out.

~~~E!~~~

Johnny couldn’t believe what was happening. It was the most useless he’d felt in his entire life. Despite his and Captain Stanley’s efforts to fight the fire, their actions had done little to make a difference. The paramedic hoped he’d get the chance to help the others when they were rescued. Johnny kept telling himself over and over in his mind that the guys would know what to do. . .that they’d be okay. If only he could convince himself they would be.

As Engines 116 and 8, plus Squad 116, arrived Hank and Johnny immediately grabbed hold of a couple of hoses and trailed them out, hooking them to the nearby fire hydrant so the hoses could be charged within seconds.

~~~E!~~~

Roy and Mike grabbed some white towels from the latrine and wet them with the faucets at the sinks. They held the damp cloths over their mouth and nose, taking extras to the dorm for Marco and Chet.

Roy looked at the others as they all sat on the floor to avoid the smoke gathering above them as it seeped in. All he could think about now was his and their families if the men didn’t get out of this alive. The senior paramedic felt sick as a hopeless feeling washed over him. There’s nothing else we can do from here.  The anger at what most likely caused the fire was building, but survival came first.

Chet pulled a towel down from his face. “This has to be the work of the Molotov Madman,” he said, voicing everyone else’s thoughts in disgust. “He did it. He got us.”

Roy nodded, as he thought about his partner and the captain. They’d heard Johnny calling out before, so they knew he was most likely okay.

“You think--'cough'--we’ll make it?” Chet asked.

Roy glanced at Mike. As the two men qualified to be in leadership roles, neither knew what to say. Mike finally spoke.

“They’ll get us out.” Stoker didn’t want any of the others to know he had doubts himself. The fire was too intense.

All four men were silent as each thought the same of their colleagues who were on the other side of the flames. What was going through the minds of Johnny and Captain Stanley at the moment?

Maybe we’ve got the easier end of the deal after all, Roy thought.

~~~E!~~~

Now breathing in oxygen given to him by the paramedics on the scene, his burned hand bandaged, Hank Stanley was intent on listening to the captains from Stations 116 and 8 as they dispersed their men to battle the blazes both inside and outside of his fire station. It was plain to see that they were shaken by the intensity of the fire that besieged Station 51. A fire station on fire was a firefighter’s nightmare come true. Although Station 51 was on the list of potential targets, everyone had hoped the arsonist would not stoop so low as to choose them as his next mark. The officer assigned to look out for the station would have a fun time explaining why he let his guard down so easily.

Hank wanted so badly to take charge and run the scene. Who knew this station better than he? But he was the victim here - one of 'six' victims. His heart sank into his boots as he thought about the four men trapped in the dorm. He prayed that they would be all right. Hank Stanley was miserable. He looked around and saw his junior paramedic sitting on the bumper of the squad parked out in the street,  his head down in his hands, the oxygen mask from his own equipment now on his lap, and looking thoroughly defeated. Hank hated having to force John to leave the station when the younger man was doing all that he could to save his comrades. The paramedic had to be going through hell knowing his partner, his best friend, was so close yet he couldn't do a thing to help him. He noted that Gage was still coughing from the smoke.

The sound of several tanks exploding in the bay brought Gage’s head up instantly. The newly added oxygen fueled the fire higher than it had been before and the engine crews had a real battle on their hands as the heat intensified. Johnny Gage was on his feet and heading towards the station. Setting the oxygen aside, Hank rushed after him and restrained him from getting any closer.

"John you can't go in there!" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over all the noise.

"But Cap --” Johnny’s protest died on his lips and the paramedic gave in, turning his back to the station. Hank put his hand on Gage's shoulder and steered him towards the squad again. They both sat on the truck’s rear bumper and watched their colleagues fight the fire...in their station. Neither could remember ever feeling so helpless.

It wasn't long before a news crew arrived to film the spectacle, a fire station burning thanks to a deranged punk with a chip on his shoulder. Not far behind the news van was an ambulance. The fact it was already on the scene unnerved Gage, at the same time knowing it was better to have one waiting.

"Cap?

"Precaution, John, remember?"

Johnny looked at his captain and nodded. “It’s just harder being one of the victims for a change."

"I know.”

A few moments later the two men were blinded by a bright light and then a microphone was thrust in front of their faces.

"Can you tell us what started the fire? Is this the work of the Molotov Madman? Are there men trapped inside? What - " Neither man was able to respond to the rapid-fire questions.

"All right. What's going on here?" Officer Vince Howard spoke loudly from behind the cameraman. "C'mon now, leave these gentlemen alone. You'll get your story but right now you’re on the wrong side of the barricade and it’s not safe. Now, please move." They did as requested, voicing their protest to each other, but the police officer's tone brooked no argument.

"Thanks, Vince."

"Any time, Hank. Any word?"

"Nothing yet."

Vince looked at the unusually quiet John Gage now dressed in just a white t-shirt and turnout pants, then glanced at Hank. "He all right?" he asked indicating Gage with a nod in the paramedic’s direction.

"Yeah, sort of. Well, you know."

He nodded. "I do. I'll see what I can find out for you."

"Thanks." Hank reflected on the past few minutes and realized that with a news crew there the report of the fire would be all over the television. His mind raced as he thought about their families. Oh dear God; our families. They'll be out of their minds when they hear about this.

Vince's return broke his concentration. "They have the fire extinguished on the outside and say they’ll have your men out soon. The fire inside is under control and close to being put out."

Hank nodded in acknowledgement of the information.

Soon another ambulance arrived and shouting could be heard from around the damaged building. It wasn't long before stretchers were being unloaded from the ambulances and pulled towards the station. Worry once again overcame Captain Hank Stanley. Gage seemed a bit distracted and was looking over at the small crowd that had gathered down the street on the side of the station opposite the fire.

Hank stood and made his way quickly to Captain Johnson of  Station 8. "Bill? Any word?"

Captain Johnson looked at his distressed friend. "Relax, Hank. Nothing but smoke inhalation. Watson and Strider said they'll be okay. Brice and Bellingham are assisting my paramedics now, so your men are in good hands. They’ll probably be spending a day or so at Hotel Rampart, but no other injuries apparent. They were lucky, not to mention doing all the right things in there. You've got a hell of a crew there, Hank." He smiled and clapped Stanley on the shoulder.

Turning to inform Gage of the news, Stanley was stunned to no longer see him standing nearby. Quickly surveying the scene, he didn't see him anywhere. Ah well, probably in one of the ambulances waiting to 'help' the medics. That thought made him smile despite what had taken place.  He needs to feel useful. I just hope he doesn't step on any toes and create a problem.

His thoughts were once again distracted by the chief and the arson investigator who were now conversing with Captain Johnson and several police officers. Vince Howard looked apprehensive as he hurriedly spoke to the other officers and then to the chief. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and he wondered what was going on.

The first stretcher was brought out and the police immediately moved to prevent the media from getting any photographs. Hank moved swiftly to speak to the man on that first stretcher. He smiled down as he looked at the dirty face and half open eyes of Mike Stoker. "Mike, I'm so damn glad to see you," he choked on his words trying to keep a hold on his emotions. Stoker grinned back and started to cough.

Hank was just glad they had all survived.

~~~E!~~~

Johnny started towards the section of the station exterior where his comrades would be carried out, when he took a quick glance back at the small crowd of onlookers. There were some motorists that had been stopped and prevented from driving in the vicinity of the fire and were now on foot, their cars parked down the street a ways. The people were watching the scene play out with curiosity. One red-haired man in particular caught Gage’s attention when the guy stared, a smug look on his face. All the others watching had expressions showing concern and worry. When the red-haired man caught on that he was being eyed, he quickly turned and stepped behind a lady and her teenage daughter. That was all it took for Johnny to get a hunch.

Arsonists often return to watch their handy work, he thought. The dark-haired paramedic was going to alert his captain to the possibility of who was in the group, but he had a feeling if his hunch was right, the suspect would get away in the time it took Johnny to get Hank’s attention. With that thought, and the idea this could end the Molotov Madman’s reign, Gage reacted as an adrenalin rush ran through him.

Johnny hurriedly trotted down the street, noticing the red-haired man turn once again and run away into the darkness. Unnoticed by any authorities due to all that was going on, Gage picked up his pace to mirror the response of the stranger and slipped past the onlookers. A few individuals in the crowd took a short curious glance at him before returning their gazes to the scene in front of them.

~~~E!~~~

His thoughts on getting his hands on the man who had caused so much trouble, grief and anxiety around the area, Johnny ran into the darkness, not a thought about exactly what he was going to do if he did catch the Molotov Madman. He noticed a dark shadowy figure duck around the corner of a building a couple of blocks away from the station.

It’s gotta be him. Suddenly the adrenalin rush he’d already been experiencing increased, and Johnny felt his heart beat faster and harder. He shot a glance behind him and could see traces of white smoke from the station still rising in the sky as the last of the fire was extinguished, the red flashing lights from the fire trucks eerily illuminating it from below.

If he went for help now, he’d surely lose the man he was following. This was the opportunity those involved had been waiting for and he couldn’t let it slip away. Gage immediately brought his attention back to where the man had gone. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves as he ran forward, Johnny followed around the building.

~~~E!~~~

Hank had seen all four of his trapped men carried out of the damaged station in one piece. Though all of them suffered smoke inhalation, none were seriously injured. He breathed a sigh of relief, then looked for Gage again, expecting him to be near Roy. DeSoto was laid out on the ground on a yellow blanket across the street from the station. Brice was tending to the injured paramedic. But John was still missing from the scene.

Something’s wrong or John would be there bugging the hell out of Brice.

Hank trotted towards Vince Howard.

~~~E!~~~

As soon as he rounded the corner, Johnny saw his target walking calmly several feet ahead. Knowing there was always that slight possibility that he had the wrong man, Johnny called out.

“Hey, I need to talk to ya!” When the man kept walking, he tried again. “Hey, man, hold up!”

Suddenly Milton Garrett took off in a sprint and Johnny followed suit. Giving it all he had to catch up, he soon got within inches of Garrett. Gage lunged for the man, taking himself and the arsonist to the sidewalk.

Not accustomed to bringing harm to an individual, the paramedic paused for a second before making another move. But that was all Milton needed. The pock-marked face opened in a wide grin as Garrett’s right hand quickly moved to his right front pocket. In just a flash he had a switchblade out and open. By the time Johnny saw the gleam of the steel blade it was headed for his abdomen.

~~~E!~~~

Roy looked for his partner through squinted, smoke-filled eyes as Brice checked him over. Lifting his head slightly, he noticed Captain Stanley sprinting away.

He’s okay. . .where’s Johnny? Roy stared at Brice. The perfect paramedic was jotting down DeSoto’s vitals. “Johnny. . .okay?” Roy asked, his voice raspy and muffled by the oxygen mask.

Craig nodded. “He wasn’t in the fire, so I’m sure he is.”

“Where. . .is he?”

Brice looked around. “You know Gage. He’s probably helping out with one of your comrades.”

“Yeah, maybe. . .” Roy glanced around the scene again. There was a lot of commotion going on as the last of the fire was being put out and police officers were clearing the civilians out of the area. One of the bystanders was standing near a cop and pointing in the opposite direction of the station, while another person was nodding in agreement to what the other was saying. Suddenly the police officer waved Vince Howard over and Captain Stanley was right behind him. Something’s wrong, Roy thought. It was all he could do not to get up on his feet and join them.

~~~E!~~~

Johnny jumped back just as the tip of the blade entered his stomach. The motion opened the wound as blood seeped onto Gage’s white t-shirt, but at the same time he moved, he swung out and knocked the weapon from Garrett’s hand. Now the paramedic had no choice. He had to fight back to survive. This was for him, for Roy and the others, and for anyone else the arsonist had caused harm to. Milton wasn’t expecting it and was reaching for the knife when the injured Gage lunged again, pinning him to the ground.

~~~E!~~~

One of the onlookers at the station fire happened to be nosy enough to follow behind Johnny and, just rounding the corner of the building in time, saw what transpired between the paramedic and Milton. Without any hesitation, he ran back towards the site of the fire. Meeting into the others already heading in that direction, he grabbed a hold of Vince's arm.

"Sir," he said breathlessly. "There's a fight just down the block! It looks like two men and I think one of ‘em has a knife! I saw the gleam of what might’ve been a blade hit the sidewalk! C’mon, and I'll show you where they are!"

 

“I’ll request a paramedic in case anyone’s hurt,” Hank told the officers. Rather than waste precious seconds on trying to wave anyone down, he pulled out his HT and called for help as they all continued on.

“. . .We’ve got a possible stabbing down the street."

That was all one of the other captains on the scene needed to hear.  He waved to Craig Brice as the paramedic was about to climb in the ambulance with DeSoto and Kelly. Craig looked puzzled as the captain approached.

“What is it, sir?”

“A possible stab wound over about a block or two from here. Hank Stanley just called for a paramedic to be sent over in case. Can your guys go in with just the ambulance attendants?”

“It’s preferable I go in as the paramedic who treated DeSoto, but there were no IV’s started, so technically, yes, I can stay.”

The captain resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the lengthy answer. “Get what you need and go. I’ll let Hank know to watch for you.”

Roy overheard the conversation and was ready to go with Brice. Johnny still hadn’t shown up anywhere and now the news of a possible stabbing had him more than worried.

“Brice,” came the raspy, muffled voice.

“Relax, DeSoto. If it’s Gage, I’ll take good care of him.”

The answer surprised the older paramedic. Brice was thinking along the same lines as he was.

“I can help.”

Craig shook his head. “You need to get checked out at Rampart. You took in a lot of smoke.”

“But--”

“No deal. Now I’ve gotta run. The victim. . .if there was an actual stabbing. . .could be losing precious time.”

Craig grabbed the equipment he would need and hurried off to meet Hank, Vince and the others.

~~~E!~~~

As they ran towards the scene, Hank had one thing in mind.  Dollars to donuts any ‘stabbing victim’ is gonna be Gage.

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner of the building, Captain Stanley could tell it was Gage on top of someone. The paramedic was trying to prevent the man from picking up the switch blade again.

With Johnny growing weak, Milton saw that he wasn’t as feisty and made one last desperate reach for the knife.

That's when Vince and the other officer, Charlie, took over. Charlie quickly pulled Johnny out of harms way, the dark-haired paramedic ending up on the sidewalk on his side. Vince had a gun trained on the suspect.

"OK, pal, that's enough," The police officer stated as he kicked the switchblade well out of the Milton’s  reach, then  roughly picked him up off the sidewalk, his gun still in one hand.

Johnny slowly got onto his hands and knees, and said between gasping breaths, "Vince, I think he's the guy who's been setting the fires."

Charlie saw the switchblade on the sidewalk and  reached into his pocket to get out a handkerchief. He picked the knife up and noted blood on it. The officer looked at Johnny, who was getting up slowly on wobbly legs with assistance from Captain Stanley.

"I saw him looking at the fire with an expression on his face like some kind of artist admiring his work," Johnny said shakily.

"Let's let Vince and Charlie take care of him.  I’ve been notified Brice is on his way. I'll help you over to where we can wait and let him check you out. You're bleeding quite a bit,” Captain Stanley said as he noticed the stain on Johnny's shirt was growing.

"I'm fine, Cap," Johnny stated just as he pitched forward and headed downward. If Hank hadn't had a hold of him and Charlie hadn't seen him fall out of the corner of his eye, Gage would have hit his head on the sidewalk. Charlie and Hank lowered him to the ground. Hank got up and let out a long sigh. He hurried to the corner of the building to wait for Brice.

Vince and Charlie walked a handcuffed Milton over to a squad car that had just pulled up to help at the scene. They put him in, and Charlie got in with Garrett. He rode along to the station with their suspect, the switchblade safely wrapped up as evidence.

Brice followed Hank as he trotted over to where Johnny and Vince were.

"Your crew is fine, Captain Stanley. They're all on their way to the hospital," Craig announced, slightly winded from trying to keep up with the man.

"Thanks. I've called for an ambulance and another squad for John. Do what you can for now and then you can head over to Rampart when the other squad gets here."

Yes, sir," was all that Brice said. What kind of trouble did you get yourself into now, Gage? he thought.

Seeing Johnny on the sidewalk on his back, Craig winced at the amount of blood on his white t-shirt. He immediately went into action and cut through the unconscious man’s clothing, putting a pressure bandage from the trauma box on the wound to help stop the bleeding.

“Captain, can you get Rampart on the biophone?”

Hank nodded, as Vince flagged down the ambulance. Squad 48 was just a few blocks farther down the street.

Johnny moaned as he rolled his head to the side.

“Take it easy, Gage,” Brice said.

~~~E!~~~

Craig Brice gave his report of what he’d done for Gage so far to Squad 48 when they arrived and said to Captain Stanley, "Looks like just a flesh wound but it looks deep enough that he'll require some stitches. I think with the blood loss and trying to subdue the other man, he became lightheaded and passed out. It seems as though like he's starting to come around now. Rampart ordered an IV, then he'll be on his way in as soon as they get him set up."

"Thanks, Brice. You can head over to Rampart and pick up your partner,” Hank directed, helping Craig to gather up his equipment. “If you see any of my crew, let them know that I'll be there soon."

"Right, Captain," was all Brice offered.

Hank turned to watch the other paramedics now at work on Johnny.

~~~E!~~~

Johnny felt a swish of cold against the inside of his arm and then felt the sting of the needle going in. With a moan, he turned his head in that direction and fought to open his eyes. For a moment, he stared at the offending needle in confusion before events came flooding back. He made a move to push himself into a sitting position, gasping at the burning pain in his abdomen. Hands pushed him back down on the ground.

“Take it easy, Gage,” commanded Paramedic Tim Gregory from 48s, parroting Brice’s earlier words.

“Th-the guys? H-h-how are the guys?”

“I don’t know.”

Not believing him, Johnny stared at him and said, “Tell me.”

“Johnny, I really don’t know.”

The dark-haired man opened his mouth to argue further but was cut off by his captain.

“John, they’re going to be fine. Stop arguing.”

Gage’s eyes swiveled toward Stanley, and he studied his boss’s face searching for the truth. Satisfied with what he saw, he laid his head back down on the ground and let the paramedics continue treatment.

“Is it bad?”

“Nah, just a substantial flesh wound.” As he spoke, Tim and his partner, Terrence Roper, lifted the injured man onto the stretcher. Despite clenched teeth, a moan floated past Johnny’s lips.

“Damn, that hurts.”

Tim let out a small, sympathetic chuckle. “Yeah, just wait till they have to stitch it up. You’re not going to be a happy camper.”

“Ohh, don’t remind me.”

Except for a few hisses of pain when the ride became bumpy, Johnny was quiet during the trip to Rampart. His mind was filled with the events of the past few hours.

~~~E!~~~

“Take him to Treatment Three.”

Johnny groaned again, but this time it was more at the sound of Morton’s voice than from pain. Oh, man. Why did it have to be him? I can hear the lecture now.

“So, Gage, what did you do to yourself this time?”

Ignoring the question, Johnny mumbled, “How are the other guys, Doc?”

“I’m sure they’re just fine,” Morton lifted the pressure bandage and whistled, “You sure pissed somebody off.”

“C’mon, Doc, I want to know for sure that everyone made it out of the fire okay.”

“I suppose I’m not going to get any peace until I find out for you, right?”

The injured man gave a tired smile. “You know me too well, Doc.”

Dr. Morton rolled his eyes at his patient. “Fine. I’ll let the nurse start cleaning that wound while I go find out. When I come back, I’ll have the distinct pleasure of numbing you up for stitches. I’m sure you’ll love that.”

Mike Morton headed out the door, missing the dirty look Johnny threw his way.

~~~E!~~~

"Well, I think that'll hold you - at least for a little while. You know the drill, Gage. Keep it clean and dry. Any sign of infection, I want you to return immediately, and take the entire prescription of antibiotics even if you think you're okay in a day or so." He paused to let the directions sink in before continuing, "You lucked out this time, your tetanus shot is current."

Johnny Gage made no reply other than to cough. He just stared sullenly at the wall while Morton finished bandaging his wound. "I want you to go home and get some rest. No rough stuff for a couple of shifts."

The young paramedic sighed and said in a voice so low that Mike Morton almost didn't hear him, "Sure, Doc. Not as if we have any place else to go besides home."

Morton had not really been thinking about the fire at 51's that started all this and felt bad. He had inquired as to the remainder of the crew's status but hadn't given much thought to the newly 'homeless' men of Fire Station 51. This was obviously affecting Gage more than the doctor realized and he wondered if the rest of the crew was as deeply affected.

"Johnny, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about that. You know they'll fix the station up good as new - maybe even better than before. It'll just take a little time."

Gage coughed again and then almost couldn't stop. Morton grabbed his stethoscope and listened carefully to Johnny's lungs. They weren't too badly affected but seeing the normally animated young man so despondent, he thought a 'night of observation' with the rest of the crew might be better medicine than a night at home alone brooding. He feigned the need for a consultation and hurried out of the room. Johnny didn't even look up.

Morton discussed his idea with Dr. Kelly Brackett who agreed wholeheartedly. He was quite proud of Mike's intuition on this one but knew better than to tell him so. Dixie McCall, head nurse, tried hard to hide the big smile on her face. Kel sent her a look that told her to keep quiet. She nodded discreetly and turned back to her mountain of paperwork.

~~~E!~~~

The young black doctor returned to his patient. "Well, Gage. Seems my colleagues are in agreement with my diagnosis. I believe we need to keep you here overnight for observation."

"What? I thought you said it was nothing to worry about!" Johnny was now agitated and started coughing again, the reaction causing his abdomen to tighten.

"Yes, I did. But I'm talking about all the smoke you ate trying to put out the fire. You -- "

"But -- "

"Will you kindly listen to me without interrupting?"

Gage closed his mouth and looked sufficiently chastised.

"Good. Now, as I was trying to say, you can spend the night upstairs in the same ward as your partner and the rest of 51's. Any more complaints?"

Johnny shook his head no but the grin on his face said it all. Morton tried to maintain his stern facade but was finding the task very difficult so he left the room before he too ended up smiling.

~~~E!~~~

Dixie and Kel were still amused at Morton’s sudden compassion for a patient and tried to hide their smiles as he approached the base station.

"What?"

"Oh nothing," said Dixie, still grinning.

"C'mon now.  What is it?"

"Well, Mike - -"

"Yes?" he asked impatiently.

"It's you."

"I'm really confused now. Care to elaborate?"

Dixie could see he wasn't in the best of moods. "Well, keeping Johnny for observation was very nice. You do care, don't you."

"He's coughing. He ate a lot of smoke. It's protocol," Morton explained. “Besides, knowing him, he’ll open up those stitches I just put in if he coughs much more.”

"Yeah, Mike, right," she grinned at him.

"It’s true. Tell her, Kel."

"Yes, it is, but he didn't eat that much smoke. And the stitches should hold. Admit it, Mike. It's a little of both his injuries and you feeling bad for the guy." Brackett tried to maintain his poker face.

Mike Morton grumbled under his breath and signed Gage's chart. "Fine, believe whatever you want." Slamming down the chart, he grabbed another and strode angrily towards his next patient.

Dixie chuckled and placed the chart where it would be taken to the observation ward upstairs. Kel Brackett smirked, picked up a chart, and walked into Treatment Room Four.

~~~E!~~~

The observation ward was quiet, but the men in the beds were not sleeping. They were too wound up to sleep. The day had been long and harrowing. Each was thankful to have survived, but they also were worried about the future of their station.

Hank Stanley arrived to check on his men. He was very glad to see each and every one of them, and they were equally glad to see him. Each tried to talk at once to ask about the damage to the station. Hank held up his hands to quiet them and as soon as the coughing died down, he spoke.

"First off, I want to say how damn glad I am that everyone is all right. This could’ve easily gotten out of hand. But because you all remained calm and did the right things, there were no serious injuries. And even better, no tragedies. We were lucky, very lucky indeed. I am so thankful - " his voice broke and he had to take a minute to compose himself. "We’re very fortunate," he managed to finish.

The guys murmured their agreement. They each knew in their hearts how easily it could have gone sour and that they had more than just luck on their side.

“How’d the guy get into the station to begin with?” Chet wondered. “Does anyone know?”

“The dayroom door. They found it rigged so it wouldn’t lock. It would just shut and looked like it was secure. I guess he was betting on us not to check it after our last run. And apparently Gage got up before Garrett had a chance to do anything, so the guy hid until he felt he could do something. He got out through the front doors. Our ‘guard’ supposedly saw ‘someone’ leaving the station on foot at that time, but didn’t think the arsonist would be bold enough to use a front door anymore than we thought he’d be bold enough to pull something with two of us up.”

"Cap?"

"Yes, Roy?"

"Where is Johnny? Why isn't he here?" he asked with a hint of panic in his voice.

That, combined with the worried look on his senior medic's face, told Hank he had to tell them about Gage right away.

"He'll be joining us shortly."

"What happened? What did he do, Cap?"

Hank laughed slightly in spite of himself. Leave it to Roy to know his partner so well. "Seems John spotted the arsonist in the crowd down the street from the station watching his handiwork and took it upon himself to 'speak' to him. Well, to make a long story short - he was right. He caught up to him, but didn’t count on the guy having a knife. John’s getting stitches as we speak."

"He all right?" asked Chet.

"He'll be fine. Dr. Morton said it wasn't serious but has him staying the night for observation anyway. The nurse at the desk said he should be brought up soon."

Roy smiled and the rest of the guys looked as relieved as they did exhausted. Soon Johnny was brought in and settled into a bed. It was after that that Mike finally asked Hank about the fate of the station.

"From what I’ve heard, although it's not official, they are going to repair the damages to the station. Until then we'll be filling in for those out injured, on vacation, and will be temporarily housed at other local stations until the work is complete.”

”It seems that the Molotov Madman, aka Milton Garrett, has been arrested thanks to our headstrong paramedic." Gage ducked down slightly and had the good sense to look sheepish. "Hopefully he'll be in jail for a long time. Good thing you spotted him John, although I wish you had told Vince instead of going after him on - your - own."

Johnny got the hint. "Sorry, Cap. It won't happen again." The rest of the guys were relieved to hear the promise, though they knew Johnny was liable to break it someday. But at least they could tell he wasn't in too much trouble with the captain now.

Hank surveyed the sleepy group of men and decided that it was time to call it a night. He was exhausted himself and couldn't wait to get home. He said his goodnights and exited the hospital. The drive home was full of contemplation as he tossed things over in his mind. There were so many 'what-ifs'. He was grateful the day was over and that finally the Molotov Madman's reign of terror had ended.

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