BURNT OFFERINGS
Present . . .
He watched as the flames grew higher and licked furiously at the walls. Careful to avoid a sudden flare-up, he methodically sprayed in a circular pattern. He breathed heavily and raised one arm to ward off the falling pieces of ceiling. He was determined to slow the progress of the Beast, yet it kept coming. This time he swore it would not touch his soul. Not when he fought so hard to regain his heart and soul for his job. He would not give in to the whispers of doubt, the fragrances of defeat, nor the screams of agony. . .
Four months ago . . .
Their last shift had challenged their emotional and physical strength in many ways. It couldn’t have been a better time for their scheduled annual camping trip. Maybe this time we’ll actually find fish, thought Roy, as he packed the rest of his gear and grabbed his sleeping bag. Johnny’s Rover was pretty full of all their equipment and this was the last of it. Joanne had dropped him off for this shift, knowing full well that the “boys” would be ready to leave immediately for the mountains.
Even Chet was anxious to get started, since he knew going home to another couple days of an empty apartment paled in comparison to tagging along and finding new ways to aggravate Johnny. He would only occasionally admit that his constant teasing of Johnny was a show of affection for one he would be proud to call brother. This mutual affection and even the jokes kept the men at Station 51 close and allowed them the ability to face the numerous hazards and risks of the job. Their relationships were forged continually from the stresses, dangers and challenges of every shift and their teamwork was looked upon by others with envy.
Today, was a good day to get away and relax. Johnny was pacing in the parking lot, trying to ease the crick in his neck from their last rescue and hoping that this outing would be just what they needed to refuel their spirits. He knew that the fresh air and the mountain atmosphere would certainly cleanse his heart and mind. Even with Chet coming along, he knew it would be okay.
After a long three hour drive they found the perfect spot to pitch camp and Johnny began setting up one of the tents. Roy was tending to the meal of the evening while Chet attempted to get the fire started.
“Ah, man, this is NOT working,” he said.
“What’s the problem, Chet,” Johnny began. “Can’t you even get a spark going, oh mighty Fireman?”
“That’s real cute, Gage, real cute! For your information, this junky thing you call a lighter happens to be out of fuel!” Chet kept flicking the switch with his finger, causing a slight swelling of the fingertip.
Roy grinned. Here they go again, he thought. Well, it was bound to happen--the verbal fencing the two of them engaged in was like a song and dance routine around the station. Their mutual admiration society only worked with sarcastic volleys of words. And they really enjoy it, mused Roy.
“I think I have some extra fuel in the bottom of this box,” offered Roy.
“No, I think he just needs to find some real wood and kindling and do it the Boy Scout way,” countered Johnny, with a grin.
“Ha, Ha . . ya know, Gage, with that brain of yours, it’s a wonder you’re allowed to even be in the woods--I would’ve thought the forest rangers would have banned you a long time ago . . . “ Chet was on a roll now. “. . . for being a general nuisance to the campers trying to relax.”
Johnny finished with the last pole and tethered down the tarp. He brushed his hands together to rid them of the dirt and looked up at Chet with his lopsided grin.
“No, actually, I’ve been working undercover for the National Park Service to make sure I protect everyone from the likes of you!”
After the fire was finally started with a little help from Roy, they settled in to a meal of beans, rolls and jerky with some beer on the side. Johnny laid his head back on his hands and smiled at the many stars that had already started twinkling in the dusky sky. A gentle breeze filtered through the treetops and he let out a long satisfied sigh. Roy knew his partner was already feeling the effects of the outside air and he had to admit that he too, felt a little less restricted by their normal routines and was beginning to sense the renewing of his own soul. Chet drew circles in the dirt with a piece of kindling wood and also sighed with satisfaction at the quiet. Each of them were lost in their own thoughts and the need for conversation was very little at the moment. They could talk later or not talk at all. This weekend was theirs and that gave the trio a good feeling. Even Roy, while missing Joanne and the kids, felt a peace being here. He said a silent thank you for having a wife who understood when he needed these moments for revival.
“Ya know, I think I could get used to living like this every day,” said Johnny.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” drawled Roy.
“I could do with a little more in the comfort area, but I’d have to say that this is just what we needed. That last rescue was terrible!” complained Chet.
They continued discussing and venting their feelings regarding the ugly incident. It was another violent scene with a husband and wife trying to shoot each other and torch their neighborhood at the same time. After scattered but intense medical treatment, Roy and Johnny were able to stabilize the couple and get them to Rampart alive. Only two houses had been totally destroyed but three more had suffered smoke damage. The damage done to the minds of the couple and their neighbors was harder to predict and would take much longer to heal.
“I guess the police get used to that kind of violence.” continued Chet.
"You never get used to it," Roy murmured. "We see more and more of it everyday, and I'm still stunned by the horrible things people can do to each other."
"Yeah," Chet agreed, somberly nodding his head, but then brightening. "At least we don't have to worry about any of those crazies out here."
Johnny was unable to resist a barb. "Yeah, you're the only crazy one out here," he teased. Chet responded by tossing his empty beer can at Johnny, who couldn't deflect it before the can bounced off his head. "Ow," he whined, rubbing his temple. "You don't have to get violent."
"Break it up, you two," Roy ordered gruffly, trying to hide his smile at their antics. The three men settled back into silence and watched as the moon began its rise over the treetops." Why don't we call it a night?" Roy suggested with a yawn. An equally weary Johnny and Chet agreed, and the three settled into their tent. Within minutes the gentle noises of regular breathing and chirping frogs filled the night. None of them noticed the two pairs of eyes watching them as they slept. None of them noticed the smile of the commanding officer as he led his men to the stakeout.
Silently, three men dressed in camaflouge and holding guns covered the mouths of Roy, Johnny, and Chet. They had their hands tied before the men had a chance to react out of their deep slumber. The firefighters were dragged from the tent and thrown to the ground. Roy looked over to Johnny and Chet and acknowledged their confused looks with his own. He felt the beginnings of a fear worse than any he had ever known.
“Well, well, well, . . . what have we here, gentlemen,” said the large man with a balding head and large mustache. He had a scar from his left temple all the way down to his neck. He paced slowly and spoke with a slow, determined drawl. “I think we have some type of espionage going on here . . ..I think these guys know something about our operation and are playing stupid!” he bellowed.
The other two men silently pointed guns at the confused campers. One was over 6 feet tall and had a nasty sneer on his face. The other was about a head shorter, but Roy shuddered as the man stared at them with cold, empty eyes. Roy knew that dead look. He'd seen it one more than once in Vietnam, on the faces of boys who had turned into stone-cold killers.
The large man kicked Roy, hard. Roy blinked back the tears and his muffled groan elicited movement from Johnny. Johnny was rewarded with a swat of the gun butt to the back of his head. “Don’t move . . . !” shouted one of the men.
“I said, I think you’re playing stupid!” The large man bellowed.
“Let’s just get on with it, Jim” yelled the smaller one, with cold eyes.
“That’s Commander, to you, PAULSEN!”
“Yes, sir, Commander, sir!” Paulsen replied, his words dripping with sarcasm.
“Johnson, Paulsen, get this scum up and get them moving to the barricade! NOW!”
The other two men rustled Roy, Johnny and Chet up from their prone positions and herded them towards the thicket of trees. Chet stumbled a couple of times over the rocks and branches, trying to keep the pace the taller men set. He, Johnny and Roy all struggled to keep their balance, despite the way their hands were tied awkwardly behind their backs. With the lack of any natural light, Johnny and Roy could see nothing but the small flashlights and the grimaces on the faces of their captors. Johnny felt a hard knot had forming on the back of his head, but it didn’t compare to the larger knot in his gut. He knew that these extremists were dangerous and he could only hope for their survival. He quickly glanced at Roy and could see the same thoughts reflected in his own pained eyes. Chet’s focus remained on his footing.
They finally arrived at a larger encampment at the base of foothill. Johnny could see a cave behind the larger tent and tried to peer deeper in to see if there were any others here. He couldn’t tell, but thought he saw movement at the edge of the darkness.
“Now, I’m only going to give you a small window of opportunity to tell me what I want to know. If you don’t then I’m sure we’ll find other ways to make you talk.” sneered the man called Jim.
“Un-gag the Indian!”, he yelled.
Johnson did as instructed and ripped the tape hard off Johnny’s lips. Johnny cringed as the tingling sensation reached his tired brain. He looked directly at Jim and began, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Who are you? Where do you get off at dragging innocent campers through the middle of the woods in the dead of night and act like it’s World War III?” Roy groaned as his partner kicked into one of his ‘infamous’ tirades. He had hoped for some caution from his high-strung friend.
Paulsen jabbed Johnny in the ribs with his gun and cocked the barrel. Jim seemed to like that and he walked over to Johnny and brought his face directly in front of him. He slapped Johnny across the face and was pleased to draw blood from his nose.
“Ya know, I really hate it that you were so inconvenienced, but I’m afraid I’ve run out of good manners. I’m really not that hard to please; just give me the opportunity to show you!” Jim yanked out Johnny’s wallet and looked through it. He could feel Johnny’s icy glare and tense muscles. He was really enjoying the reaction he was causing.
“John R Gage, Carson, um . . . let’s see, nothing here, . . . oh, what’s this? LA County Fire Deparment, fireman/paramedic, huh? Oh my, boys, we have a hot one, here. He’s a boy in blue, uniform and all, I take it?” his question wasn’t really directed at anyone, especially Johnny. “You must rescue lots of stupid people, huh? Anyone in the US government? Anyone important? Are you important?”
Jim kept at it. “Think you’re something, huh? Well, let me explain something to you. Are you sure you’re an Indian? Cuz, if not, I feel sorry for ya. You see, we’re not those kind of Americans either!” He pointed to Johnson and Paulsen. “Maybe you’ll be safe from the scum sucking, trash that has turned this country to shit!” Johnny’s jaw was set, careful not to say anything to this crazy man. He'd had enough already. “I’m telling you, in a few days . . . BOOM! I’m going to show this country what it means to be a true red-blooded American. Not an Indian, you see--AMERICAN!”
He turned his attention to Roy and Chet. “Get their wallets, too!” he ordered.
Paulsen opened them up. “They’re firemen, too!”
“Oh wonderful!” Jim was excited. “I get to play with fire!”
Johnny couldn’t hold back. “What are you talking about? Look, we just want to walk away from here and never look back. You can have your own camping adventure and we’ll just carry on with ours.” Johnny could only hope. Man, my head is really throbbing and this madman is really scaring me, he thought.
“Oh, don’t you see! I want to play! Actually, I have a few last minute experiments to conduct before I set up for the big show!” Jim chuckled. “What’s really funny is that it involves fire!”
Chet noticed the manic grins on the men’s faces. They look like they’re getting ready for the party of the year, and we’re the appetizers, he thought grimly.
“Man, this is getting to be too much!” roared Johnny. He lowered his head and butted into Paulsen as hard as he could. The move threw him off balance and landed on his side, crunching one of fingers. Paulsen was momentarily caught off guard, then was immediately on top of Johnny, belting him hard with the gun and his fists. Johnny felt his eyes dissolve in a heated fury and knew his jaw and neck were part of the sacrifice. He winced as another blow opened a cut across his left temple.
Roy moved toward Johnny, but Jim pointed his gun at both him and Chet. “Get off him, you idiot! You’ll mess him up!” Jim bellowed.
Johnson grabbed Paulsen and send flying onto his back. Paulsen grunted and looked like he would take a bite out of all of them. His eyes were still cold and empty but his whole face was twitching in fury. “He ain’t going to touch me again!”
“Shut up!” shouted Jim. Johnny groaned while trying to find feeling on the left side of his face again. Roy and Chet agonized over being unable to speak and having to witness the event without being able to help.
“Time to get this going. Get that Indian over there and let’s tie him up good!” instructed Jim. Paulsen gladly obeyed and dragged Johnny to a metal pole. He stood Johnny up straight and tied his entire body to the pole. Johnny was seeing two of everything and tried to steady his dizzy head. Blood dripped down his left side and his whole face felt like a raw nerve.
Roy and Chet were shoved into the cave and had only one lantern for light. A makeshift booth with chains and locks was their new holding area and thankfully their gags were removed so they could have water. It was all that was offered. With their hands still secured behind them, it was good just to be able to talk.
“Man, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” remarked Chet. His eyes were downcast and he spoke softly, hoping not to attract any attention. They could hear voices outside the cave entrance but they couldn’t tell what was being said.
“I’m really worried about Johnny,” Roy whispered back. “What do you think they want with us? And how the hell are we going to get out of here?”
“All I know is that we need to make a run for it if we ever get the chance.” said Chet. “They have something planned in the next few days . . . “
“If we make it through the next few days . . . . “ pondered Roy.
Outside the cave, Johnny struggled to stay aware of the situation around him. Being tied to the pole was strange enough, but the surrounding conversation was getting rowdy and he knew he was the center of attention.
“Now, let’s see if this new stuff will do it. Hey, Indian Man! Didn’t you used to burn people at the stake? Or was that some other stupid culture?” Johnny shuddered at Jim’s maniacal laugh. Suddenly, a small object landed at Johnny’s feet and exploded. Johnny closed his eyes at the sound and began coughing as the smoke rose to this face. His feet started to get hot and he pushed against the ropes holding his body to the pole, but that didn’t help since the pole was burning too. Even worse was the smoke. His coughing turned into gags and his skin felt like it was melting. Man, whatever this stuff was, it was burning his throat. He cried out but all he heard was a rasp. He shuddered with all his might to pull away, but it was useless. He heard laughter over the noise of the flames. The fire licked his legs and the smoke tore up his insides. Then it was over with a large splash of cold mountain water. As quickly as the smoke grew, it was smothered. Johnny hung his head in defeat. The flames singed his skin where his jeans once were. His face was red and blistered. His throat was so raw he knew it had burned too. His eyes were glued shut with tears and blisters.
“WOW!” yelled Jim. “That combination was great! Good job, Paulsen. I think you finally have it nailed down. Johnson, get this scum off the pole and throw him in with his pals. This country is not going to bust us again. We’ll get those Feds first this time. I swear it.”
They dragged Johnny to the cave and threw him in with Roy and Chet. Johnson didn’t bother to chain Johnny up. He knew his legs were burned pretty badly and wouldn’t be going anywhere. Chet and Roy quickly moved over to Johnny.
“Oh my god, Johnny!” Roy exclaimed. “Johnny, can you hear me? Chet see if you can help me get him on his side.” They struggled to position their bound hands to move Johnny onto his side. Both were panting from the effort when they finally got Johnny in the right position.
Roy quickly assessed Johnny’s injuries. It was clear that his legs were severely burned. His face and arms were like sunburn and there were nasty looking blisters everywhere, not to mention the wounds from the beating he took earlier.
“You ever seen a burn like that before?” asked Chet. Roy shook his head worriedly.
Johnny was out. Roy winced as he examined his partner and noticed his labored wheezing. He was worried about Johnny not regaining consciousness, but he knew Johnny was better off since they had nothing to help with what Roy was certain would be excruciating pain.
“Roy, man, we’ve got to get out of here. I cannot sit here and watch him like this. What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of this?” Chet began to panic.
Roy worked on finding his calm voice. “Chet, we’re not going to get out of here if we panic. We’ve got to stay cool and calm and think clearly.” He noticed the evening was turning into morning outside the cave. “If we keep our heads, we just might find a chance!” Roy had to believe there was a way out of this, even though it looked grim.
He heard footsteps. “My, what a lovely shade of red our Indian Man became!” It was Jim. “Well, fellas, I hope you’re comfortable, cuz, we’re heading out.” He started out, but turned back.. “Your fireman friend proved my experiment well, and now it’s time to give it to the world! By the way, sorry you can’t see the end result, but I’m afraid this is your new home . . . or grave!” He laughed as he left a bewildered Roy and Chet behind.
Two Days Later. . .
“No, Chief, I’m not sure. I only know they went up the Park and did some camping and fishing. . . yea . . . she’s pretty worried too . . .I’ve already called the ranger service . . . thanks, Chief.”
Captain Stanley hung up the phone. Today was a day from hell. He didn’t realize it yet, but it was only going to get worse. He contemplated his morning and discovered there wasn’t anything else he could do. When Roy, Johnny and Chet hadn’t shown up this morning, he began praying for a miracle. He needed to do something. Now, it was time to greet the replacements and hope that he could carry on the leadership role he was suddenly very aware of.
Meanwhile . . .
Johnny knew he was alive,
but barely. He struggled to move his hands and was surprised they moved. Why
he should be surprised, he didn’t know. But somehow, his smoke filled mind
reminded him that he shouldn’t be able to move. He did not realize, but his
encounter with the smoke and fire frayed the rope around his wrists. He tried
to say something or cry out, but could only whimper. His throat was so raw. He
couldn’t remember why! Something was happening around his face, but what?
Voices? Laughter? No . . .
“ . . . roy . . . “ he whispered with little breath.
“Johnny?” Roy had been dozing lightly and suddenly jerked his head toward his partner as soon as he heard him stir. “Don’t move, Junior, you’ve been burned pretty badly.”
Johnny barely understood, but followed Roy’s orders. His whole body felt like a live wire. Every nerve was on fire. Every muscle was rubbed raw. Even his head felt like the engine rolled over it a couple times.
“ . . . wha .. . happen?” he croaked. He kept his eyes shut to keep from spinning faster.
“You don’t remember? These crazy guys snatched us from the campground and used you as their guinea pig. I don’t know exactly what they did, but they burned you pretty bad.” Roy shifted and tried not to touch his partner. He rubbed his shoulder lightly to get the crick out of this neck. He was glad to have use of his hands again, but frustrated not being able to use those hands to help Johnny. He knew if he moved Johnny that he would lose him. To touch him, would be devastating, especially around the burns. He ached to give his partner a reassuring pat on the back.
“They finally left a few hours ago when it got light. I don’t know, but they seemed pretty intent on doing something devastating somewhere. Chet kept working on getting his ropes off by using these chains over here. He made it. Got me loose, but we can’t move you till we get help, my friend.”
Johnny groaned as he half heard Roy’s words. He tried to speak, but could only gasp for air as his mind sunk deeper into the pit of smoke and flame and agony.
One Week Later . . .
“This is WKMG AM 750 reporting live at the Federal Reserve Bank here in San Francisco. It has now been 24 hours since that awful blast was felt and heard on the third floor of the building. Authorities are just now beginning to give us the details regarding the survivors and the victims. At this time, we can only determine that 12 children and 4 adults have been pronounced dead. The toll for injured includes 16 children and 6 adults listed in serious condition at area hospitals. Preliminary reports state that the bomb and/or bombs contained a new chemical mix of phosphorous, amonia-nitrate that incapacitates victims quicker than smoke inhalation. It has also been released that the driver of the rental truck that delivered the bomb and his assistant are now listed among the deceased. They are only known as Johnson and Paulsen, both wanted on counts of arson and attempted murder in the state of California. It is not yet clear if anyone else was involved with this horrible tragedy that has sent a wail of agony from the 3rd floor daycare center to across the world.”
Johnny was only slightly aware of the television and its message. He was extremely aware of each nerve ending in his body. He was on his back with the burn bandages covering both legs and various other parts of this body. He glanced at the monitors and the various other tubes stretching from his bed to equipment nearby. He also spotted the sunlight in his room at Rampart and as he shifted his head, he caught the watchful, yet tired eyes of Roy.
“Hey there, Junior.” he quietly said. “I was beginning to think you’d didn’t want to come back to us. . . “ Johnny saw fear in Roy’s eyes. “We’ve all been waiting, Johnny . . . how you feeling?”
Johnny tried to speak, again only feeling slightly successful with his voice. “’m a little dizzy . . . um, confused . . . like a fog is lifting . . . “, he whispered through his parched lips. He tried to grin, but couldn’t move his facial muscles.
“Don’t you try anything but getting better. I want you to really concentrate on that, Junior.” Roy was trembling. This was too close, too harsh, too much damage. Would things ever go back to normal for them? He didn’t know. All he knew right now, was that his partner would be struggling physically to heal and now after the bombing, there would be even deeper emotional wounds.
“Listen, I’m going to find Dr. Brackett, and let him know you’re awake.”
“Roy . . . the flames? . . . were they real?” Johnny needed to know it wasn’t a dream. He somehow needed confirmation of the hell he thought he experienced. “. . . am I dreaming?” he rasped.
“Take it easy, Johnny. The worst is over. Yes, it was real. But it’s over. You’re safe and Chet and I are okay.” Roy smiled, trying to reassure his partner.
“. . . .the flames . . .they were really too close. . . couldn’t breathe . . . .”, he fell into another deep slumber leaving Roy alone to deal with the agony of his partner’s physical and mental pain.
Two months later . . . .
He had read all the news stories, saw all the televised news programs, and even heard accounts of the tragedy on the radio. During his convalescence at Rampart and at home, he couldn’t escape the amount of coverage of the terrible bombing of the Federal Reserve Bank Building. He mourned for the children who lost their lives while playing in the on-site day care center on the third floor and for all the other lives lost on several floors of the building. He held silent vigil for those who were still fighting for their lives. He was still fighting. He was fighting the whispers, the shouts, the anguished cries that resounded in his head and his heart every time he looked at his legs, every time he attempted to sleep, every time he had to talk about his experience with the county’s psychiatrist. He knew it was a battle he had to win if he ever hoped to find his life again. Why him? Why did all this violence happen to innocent people? He didn’t have the answers. He only knew that the Beast was not going to win. He wouldn’t let it.
The guys at the station had been supportive and helped Johnny make his way toward regaining all his functionality again. Whether it was trips to the therapist or just sitting around and talking, Johnny was thankful for his ‘family.’ They never gave up and Roy especially gave everything he needed to help Johnny recover. Chet, Roy, and Johnny tried to help each other understand what had happened and accept the roles they thought they'd played in the situation. As they had so many times during rescues and fires, they stuck together and made each day a victory, especially for Johnny.
Back to the Present . . . .
. . . then, he heard the cry. He quickly put the raging hose down and ran blindly into the other room. The smoke was thick, the flames jumping higher. Another cry--even with this air, she was crying. He found her in the bathroom, hiding under the sink. “Come on, sweetheart,” he yelled through his face mask. She was shivering with fear and crying. He pulled her to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. The flames were closer. He felt his feet get hot. No, this will not happen. This will be MY victory. I am in control. He quickly assessed his escape route and dashed for the window. Using his helmet, he made sure the glass was gone. It was only one story . . . he slid out, gasping for breath as he ran toward the squad with the crying child.
The daycare building exploded. Flames were now in every window. Johnny looked back keeping the young child close to his neck for reassurance. He offered all he could to make sure this child survived. Roy studied his partner. He saw redemption in Johnny’s eyes. Not this time, Beast. This time, Johnny knew his heart was right. Despite all that had happened, tonight, he had victory.
Author's Note: A Big Thank You to Caelie for her wonderful editing and suggestions during my first venture!
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(Drawing by Julie H.)
Guest Dispatchers Stories by Robin W.
