Disclaimer: The guys from Emergency don’t belong to me. They belong to Universal and Mark VII. Thanks for allowing me to write about them.
Counterblow
By: Vanessa Sgroi
The peace and stillness within Station 51 was shattered like overstressed glass when the tones rang out at 1:00 a.m. summoning the six men from restful slumber. Donning their turnouts in a flash, they all began to rush from the dorm, but four stopped short when it was clear the summons was for the squad only. The two A-shift paramedics proceeded to their vehicle while their captain sleepily acknowledged the call.
“Woman down. Man, I sure hope this isn’t for someone who’s had a little too much to drink.” Johnny Gage rubbed the palms of his hands against his sleep-gritted eyes as he mumbled.
The two men were beyond weary from an earlier fire and rescue operation with the rest of the crew. They had all returned a scant couple of hours ago, barely taking the time to clean up before falling into bed.
“Yeah, silly me, I was hoping for a quiet night.” Roy fought unsuccessfully to suppress a huge yawn.
The presence of a couple of police cars at the scene upon the squad’s arrival told the paramedics this was more than a “tipsy partygoer” call. Grabbing the equipment, they headed for the open front door. Once across the threshold, the two men encountered Officer Charlie Brant who was standing over an unconscious woman.
“Hey, Charlie, what’ve we got?” Roy quickly bent down to the victim while Johnny established contact with the hospital.
“We got a call from neighbors about a fight occurring at this location. When I got here, I found her like this. I think she hit her head on this table here.”
Roy inspected the fresh bruising on the victim’s face. “Did her husband do this?”
“Yeah, the other officer is talking to him in the other room. The guy is falling down drunk. He admits he was mad at her and hit her, but says she tripped and hit her head.”
The paramedics spent the next several minutes initiating treatment to ready the woman for transport. At the sound of a siren in the distance, Officer Brant went outside to wave in the emergency vehicle.
Just as Johnny was finishing up transmission to Rampart, his gaze wandered to the doorway connecting the foyer to another room. In that brief second, he witnessed the police officer strike the man he’d been talking to.
“Roy? Roy, did you see that?” Gage’s voice was low and tense.
“See what?”
“That cop. Didn’t you see that cop hit . . .”
“No. Sorry. Hey, Johnny, we need to get her to Rampart fast. Her vitals aren’t so hot.”
Understanding the need for urgency, Gage turned his attention to their patient and pushed the incident he alone had just witnessed to the back of his mind.
The ambulance attendants arrived rolling the stretcher between them. With great proficiency, the paramedics situated the woman on the gurney and followed as the attendants whisked her away.
“You want to ride in with her?” Roy inquired as they helped lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
“Yeah, I’ll go. See ya at Rampart.”
Roy slapped the doors of the ambulance and watched it pull away before heading to the squad to follow. Glancing around, he briefly wondered what Johnny had been talking about earlier.
A short while later, after a minor delay at the scene to answer a question for Officer Brant, the blond-haired paramedic entered the emergency doors at Rampart and headed for the base station. He immediately noticed his partner leaning against the counter. Johnny’s shoulders were slumped and his gaze was glued to the floor.
Roy’s heart sank. “Johnny?”
Gage slowly lifted his head and looked in Roy’s direction. His eyes told the story before he even spoke.
“She didn’t make it. She started to go sour about two minutes out. Brackett couldn’t get her back.”
The senior paramedic placed a strong, steady hand on his partner’s shoulder. They both felt the pain when someone didn’t make it.
Roy sighed and shook his head. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can get at least some sleep tonight.”
They left the hospital and made a quiet return to the Station. As tired as he was, Johnny still couldn’t find sleep. He lay in his bunk, troubled by both the woman’s senseless death and by the incident he had witnessed at the scene.
The next morning, Johnny was quiet and introspective and left as soon as his replacement from B-shift arrived at the Station.
* * *
By the time Johnny returned to the Station for his next shift, he had regained his perspective regarding events from the previous shift and his mood was bright. Gage was whistling as he changed into uniform and then headed for the kitchen for coffee.
“Good morning, all. Good morning, Henry.”
“Geez, Gage, what are you so happy about?”
“Chet, I’m happy ‘cause it’s a beautiful day!”
“Beau . . . beautiful day? Are you crazy? It’s raining buckets out there.”
“Chet, can I help it if you’re so full of gloom and doom? That you’re not like me who’s always cheerful?”
Coffee now in hand, Johnny plopped down in a chair next to his partner, coming dangerously close to decorating Roy’s pristine uniform shirt with the brown liquid.
Hoping to start the day off on a better note than a Johnny/Chet argument, Roy broke into the conversation.
“Well, partner, it’s good to see you’re doing better. I was a little concerned after last shift.”
Gage’s face sobered for a brief moment. “Yeah, I had a lot to think about.”
“Gentlemen, care to join me for roll call?” Captain Stanley intoned from the doorway.
A mad dash to the apparatus bay for line up ensued, interrupted only slightly by a detour to the closet for their respective caps.
There were very few announcements so roll call went quickly and without a hitch except for a mumbled complaint from Chet when Gage was assigned cooking duties. Once dismissed, the five firemen slowly dispersed to begin their assignments.
“So, Gage, what kind of hot dogs will it be today – Ball Park or Armour?”
“For your information, these are going to be very special hot dogs. As a matter of fact, I’m trying a casserole. I call it Johnny’s Jazzy Hot Dog Casserole.”
“A hot dog casserole? Great! We’ll all be sick for sure.”
“You won’t be sayin’ that later, Chester B.”
The station tones sounded.
“Station 51. Truck 127. Structure fire. 1220 Holliday Avenue. 1-2-2-0 Holliday, cross street Wilson. Time out – 8:17.”
They arrived to find flames engulfing the Soak-n-Suds Laundromat. Despite the rain, the fire was quickly spreading to the small apartment building attached to the right. Several people burst through the front door of the apartment building at a run, but screams could be heard from those unable to make their way outside.
Captain Stanley issued orders to his men and quickly called for a second alarm. Truck 127 arrived and immediately began working on the Laundromat. Donning their equipment, Kelly and Lopez headed for the other building to back up Gage and DeSoto as they went in search of victims.
Upon entering the building, the two paramedics saw two people doubled over on the stairs. They helped them the rest of the way down and out the door before rushing back inside and heading up the staircase. At the top, they split up to search each end of the hallway. The screaming they’d heard earlier had stopped so they were unable to pinpoint locations in the smoky building.
The first two apartments Johnny checked were unoccupied. In the third and last, he found a slight, middle-aged woman stretched out just behind the door. The cast on her leg had clearly hindered her efforts to leave the building.
Pulling off his mask, Johnny placed it over the woman’s face to help her breath.
“Ma’am, is there anyone else in the apartment?”
She was slow in responding, but finally managed to shake her head no.
“Okay, ma’am, I’m gonna get you out of here. You just hold that mask to your face. Yeah, just like that.”
Being careful with her casted leg, Johnny lifted her up onto his shoulders and hurried from the apartment.
Making his way through the increasing haze in the hallway, he at last came to the top of the stairs. Seeing movement to his left, Gage glanced over to see Roy coming toward him carrying a victim of his own. Lifting a hand in acknowledgement, the dark-haired paramedic began his descent. About halfway down, one of the stair treads gave way, propelling Johnny to the side and into the railing. The paramedic issued a curse and then a low moan when he felt the balustrade bite into ribs. Regaining his balance, Gage descended the remaining steps and rushed out the door into the rain. His partner was just seconds behind.
Upon reaching the squad, the two paramedics lowered their victims to the ground.
Roy quickly removed his air mask and looked at his partner.
“Are you okay, Johnny? You hit that railing pretty hard.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
DeSoto had doubts though when he saw Johnny wince as he was hit with a coughing spell. Fine, huh? We’ll see what they have to say at Rampart.
Neither victim was seriously injured except for some minor smoke inhalation but, as expected, Rampart requested transport.
Captain Stanley walked over to check on the paramedics and their victims.
“How are they, Roy?”
“They’re fine, Cap. Just took in a little smoke,” the senior paramedic looked over at Johnny, “and so did my partner here. He also hit the stair railing pretty hard when a step gave way coming down.”
The captain looked at his younger paramedic with concern.
“Roy! I told you, I’m fine.”
“Gage, get yourself checked out at Rampart. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Johnny tried to suppress the coughing that followed and failed miserably.
* * *
“It looks like you’re gonna be fine.” Dr. Early smiled down at the man reclining on the exam table.
Gage glanced over at his partner and rolled his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his sooty face. “I told Roy I was okay. He wouldn’t listen.”
“Well, Johnny, you know he was right to worry. You do have bruised ribs, and you did breathe in enough smoke to require some oxygen therapy.”
Gage slowly pushed his arms through the short sleeves of his light blue uniform shirt and slipped of the exam table. With a sheepish grin, he peered again at his partner.
“Ah, I know, Doc. I woulda done the same if it was him.”
“You can return to work, but if you start having any problems, get back here immediately.”
“Okay, thanks, Doc.”
* * *
Their return to the station was quiet and quick. The two paramedics exited the squad and walked to the kitchen. The rest of the crew sat at the table enjoying coffee.
“Hey, Gage. What took you so long? When’s lunch anyway? I’m starving.” Chet purposefully made his tone obnoxious to hide the fact that he’d been concerned about the paramedic’s condition.
“Hold your horses, Chet. I’ll start the casserole after I have some milk and clean up.”
“Well, you better not mess up the latrine. I just got done cleaning it.”
Johnny threw his best glare at the mustached Irishman as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard, wincing slightly when his ribs protested the quick movement. Filling the glass with cold milk, he downed the soothing liquid in a couple of big gulps. Without further comment, Gage headed for the shower.
Roy walked over and sat down on the couch next to Henry. “Chet, lay off Johnny, will ya? He was hurt at that fire even if it turned out to be minor.”
“Ahh, I know that. I was just trying to take his mind off of things.”
Conversation drifted off to other topics.
Not too many minutes passed before a much cleaner Johnny Gage returned to the kitchen, hair still damp from his quick shower. He opened the refrigerator and began to pull out the ingredients needed for his casserole. While he began to assemble the meal, he saw his partner head off to clean up. Johnny’s Jazzy Hot Dog Casserole was bubbling away in the oven and filling the station with a tantalizing aroma by the time the blond-haired paramedic reappeared.
Surprisingly, Chet offered to set the table for the meal. He did so quickly while Marco put the salad and a bag of chips out on the table as well. Mike chipped in and filled each of their glasses with milk.
Johnny pulled the casserole from the oven and sat it on the heating pads strategically placed on the table. The six hungry firefighters immediately dug into the hearty meal.
“Hey, this is pretty good, Gage.” Chet’s tone indicated a certain degree of surprise that Johnny had made something not only edible, but good.
Murmurs of appreciation from the rest of the crew followed Kelly’s comments and Johnny felt his cheeks redden slightly.
“Uh, thanks . . . thanks, guys.”
For once, their meal went uninterrupted and the men ate their fill. The two paramedics began to clean up as the rest of the men wandered off to return to whatever chores were left over from earlier in the day.
“You still feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. They’re sore but not too bad.”
Satisfied, Roy continued to dry the dishes as his partner rinsed them.
The tones sounded just as Johnny rinsed the last plate.
“Squad 51. Unknown type rescue at Hilda’s Hangout. 8521 Claremont Ridge, cross street Dean. 8-5-2-1 Claremont Ridge, cross street Dean.”
The captain acknowledged the call and the paramedics were quickly on their way.
“Hilda’s Hangout? Isn’t that a bar? A little early in the day, don’t ya think?” Johnny’s voice rang with disgust.
“For some people, it’s never too early in the day. At least, it’s stopped pouring rain.”
Soon the squad pulled up in front of the bar, and the paramedics quickly grabbed their gear. They entered the dreary establishment and found themselves in the middle of a bar fight. About a half a dozen men, drunk beyond all reasoning, were battling it out. Reluctantly, the two rescuemen waded into the fray and attempted to break it up. As luck would have it, several policemen arrived and joined the melee.
For several minutes, pandemonium reigned as they all struggled to bring the brawlers under control. Then quiet descended, and Johnny and Roy were able to begin assessing damages. Four of the six men were only barely scratched and were hustled away to waiting police cars. The two remaining were more seriously hurt and would require a trip to the hospital. DeSoto kneeled to tend the first injured man who was laying, barely conscious, on the floor while Johnny set up the biophone. Still quite belligerent despite his injuries, the other combatant was struggling against the restraining hand of an officer. Leaving the biophone after establishing contact with Rampart, Johnny began to move toward the other patient. Much to his surprise, he saw the officer crack the man hard on the ear. The guy quit struggling and slumped forward a bit.
The dark-haired man increased his pace and reached the two men in question just as the officer lifted his fist to administer another blow. Johnny reached out and grabbed the officer’s arm.
“Hey, stop that. This guy’s too hurt to fight anymore.”
The officer’s head swung in Gage’s direction and his hand closed over the paramedic’s right wrist. Johnny’s eyes widened slightly as a recognized the officer from the domestic disturbance a few days earlier.
“What did you just say?”
“I said to stop, Officer . . . Stone. He’s not fighting back anymore.” The paramedic watched as something dark and fluid quivered in the cop’s eyes. A chill danced down his spine. Suddenly, Johnny gasped as the grip on his wrist tightened to excruciating proportions, numbing his fingers.
“I think you should mind your own business, Fireboy.”
Then the pressure was gone, and Stone slipped away.
Shaking his hand to restore some feeling, Johnny shrugged off the encounter and went about treating the second victim. When the ambulance arrived, they loaded the two men inside. Roy chose to ride in with them leaving the dark-haired paramedic to bring in the squad.
* * *
The fair-haired paramedic joined his partner at the base station. Gage was busy restocking some of their supplies. Roy watched as Johnny finished and then grabbed a mug and began to fill it with coffee. He noticed his partner wince and switch hands.
“What’s wrong with your hand?”
“Huh?”
“Your hand—you just winced and switched the mug to your left hand. What’s wrong?”
“Oh. Nothin’. Nothing’s wrong with my hand.”
“Johnny . . .”
Knowing Roy would give up, the dark-haired paramedic finally said, “It’s just my wrist. It’s bruised.”
“Let me see.”
With a sigh, Gage pushed up the sleeve of his dark blue jacket and held out his wrist for inspection. A bruise encircled his wrist much like a bracelet.
“What happened?”
“I got in somebody’s way.”
“What?”
“Look, can we just go? It’s fine, just sore.” Johnny placed his cup of untouched coffee on the counter, grabbed the supplies, and strolled away toward the exit.
Shaking his head, Roy followed him out to the squad.
* * *
The rest of the afternoon and night passed uneventfully for A-shift which pleased Johnny to no end. His mind was preoccupied with recent events as he struggled to decide the appropriate course of action. By the time he climbed into his Rover the next morning, he knew one of the tasks he needed to complete on his days off included the filing of a report against that officer.
* * *
Two weeks later . . .
The two A-shift paramedics stood in front of their lockers changing at the end of a long and arduous shift. Both men were happy that their next two days off happen to fall on a weekend.
“So, Junior, what are your plans for the next couple of days?”
Johnny finished zipping up his jeans and paused for a moment before reaching for his shirt.
“I’ve got a hot date for tonight. Then maybe a little camping or hiking. I don’t know. Guess it depends on how the date goes.” His grin turned slightly wolfish.
“Who’s the lucky woman?”
“Uh . . . I’m not gonna tell ya. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“What?”
“If I tell you all about her, I might jinx the date. So if I don’t tell you all about her, things will go good.”
Roy rolled his eyes at his partner’s so-called logic.
“Well, if you’re around tomorrow night, you’re invited to dinner. We’re gonna cook steaks out on the grill.”
“Hey, sounds good. I’ll give you a call and let you know, okay?”
“Sure.”
The two men said their goodbyes and left the station.
* * *
The dark-haired paramedic glanced over at the gorgeous woman seated next to him in the Rover. Tall and slender with flowing strawberry-blonde hair and legs that seemed to go on forever beneath her red mini-skirt, she was perfectly suited to her name, Ginger Sweet. Johnny smiled at his luck. It had been a good date so far. She’d even invited herself back to his apartment for a drink.
As he pulled into his favorite spot in the parking lot, Gage began to whistle softly. He jumped out, quickly opened the passenger side door, and guided her from the vehicle.
She leaned in close and breathily whispered in his ear, “Oh, cutie pie, you are just so sweet. I can’t wait to get you all to myself.” Her blood red fingernails scraped lightly against Johnny’s chest.
The dark-haired man felt a blush creep up his cheeks at her boldness.
Wrapping his arm around her bare shoulders, Johnny walked with her to his apartment.
“What can I get you to drink? I have a bottle of wine somewhere, I think. A beer? Coffee?”
“Sugar, I’ll take a beer.”
Johnny headed for the kitchen while Ginger made herself at home on the couch.
He returned with their drinks, placing them on the coffee table.
“I brought you a glass. I didn’t know if you wanted one or not.”
“That’s okay, darlin’. I drink it straight from the bottle.” As if to prove her point, she picked up the brown long neck, wrapped her lips around the opening and took a long draw.
Gage dropped down on the couch beside her.
“So, Sugar, tell me about that exciting job of yours.”
“Well, it’s . . .” Johnny paused as the telephone rang.
“Uh, excuse me, I’ll . . . ah . . . be right back.”
A scant few minutes passed before the dark-haired man returned and sat down.
“Sorry. It was my partner. Now where were we?” He picked up his beer and took several swallows.
“You were going to tell me all about being a fireman.”
“Ah, you don’t want to hear about that. It’s not that exciting. I’d rather hear about you.”
“Really? Well . . .” Ginger launched into a nonsensical and greatly embellished description of her life, all the while keeping an eye on the man seated next to her. She knew it wouldn’t take long for the drug to work.
As Gage sat listening, he became aware of an incessant buzzing in his ears. He cautiously shook his head, stopping immediately when it caused a bout of dizziness. Johnny opened his mouth to call out to the woman next to him but no sound emerged. He reached out, grabbing the back of the couch to steady himself as the edges of his vision blurred.
Ginger watched with frigid eyes and a harsh grin as the dark-haired man’s eyes drooped shut and he tipped sideways on the couch. Reaching over, she forcefully pinched his arm and was pleased when there was no response. The blonde jumped up and raced to the door, throwing it open. She whistled for Tony Stone.
Stone quickly looked around before he entered the apartment and slammed the door. His cold, lifeless eyes disdainfully flitted around the room before finally falling on the drugged figure sprawled haphazardly across the brown tweed couch.
“C’mon, let’s get him stripped.”
The two stripped the paramedic down to his boxer shorts and dragged him to the bedroom. They quickly laid him out on his bed where Tony handcuffed his arms to the headboard.
“Get the duct tape out of your purse. Did you bring the scarf?”
“Sugar, you know I would forget.”
The next few minutes were filled with the ripping sound of duct tape, as Tony and Ginger firmly secured Gage’s legs to the bed. Following that, they slapped the silver-gray tape over his mouth.
With a flourish, Ginger handed the black jersey scarf to her lover. She laughed outright at the design Tony had picked, little yellow smiley faces cavorted against the midnight background.
The cop placed the material over Johnny’s eyes, tightly wound it around his head a few times, and secured it at the back with more duct tape. Tony Stone stood there staring hard at the man who had likely cost him his career, his mouth twisted into a bitter ghost of a smile. You’ll pay, Fireboy. You’ll pay.
* * *
Johnny returned to consciousness slowly. He groaned at the throbbing in his head. Man, what happened? Gage attempted to open his eyes. When he was unable to do so, he panicked and pulled against his bonds. It was then that he realized he could barely move at all. Drawing air through his nose, Johnny forced himself to calm down and take stock of what was wrong. His arms were stretched over his head and when he moved them, cool metal bit into his wrists and a slight clinking reached his ears. What the hell? Reeling from this discovery, Gage strained against the ties holding him down, succeeding only in raising red welts beneath the handcuffs and aggravating the drumbeat in his head. Realizing that struggling was getting him nowhere, he finally stopped. Forced to breathe solely through his nose, his breath whistled softly as Johnny fought to calm down. His lips burned beneath the gummy silver tape.
Soon he became aware of someone talking in the other room. The words were too indistinct to make out. Oh, God! Ginger! What are they doing to her? Thoughts of his date being at the mercy of an unknown intruder spurred another round of useless struggles. Exhausted, the dark-haired man once again sagged back on the mattress.
Footsteps alerted the paramedic of an impending visitor. He turned his head toward the sound.
“Well . . . well . . . you’re awake.”
Immediate recognition of the sultry voice dumbfounded Johnny. Ginger?
“It’s about time. I don’t want hang around this dump too long.”
Johnny startled when he felt her hand on his bare chest.
“Too bad I couldn’t have had a little fun with you first.” Her hand began to trail down his chest in what would have been a sensuous touch had it not been for the cold, sharp fingernails. “I think I would have liked to get a little taste of you.”
Gage’s stomach muscles contracted at her touch. When the tips of her fingers just barely slid under the waistband of his blue boxer shorts, he franticly tried to pull away.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
Johnny jumped at the booming voice coming from the doorway. He blindly looked in that direction.
“Nuthin, sweetie. I was just havin’ a little conversation with our boy here.”
“Yeah, conversation. I saw where your hand was heading.”
“Now, sugar, don’t worry. You know you’re my man. I was doing a little exploring is all.”
“What the hell could you possibly see in this skinny little runt anyway? Maybe I need to remedy that?”
A second later, Johnny felt a white-hot searing pain on his stomach. His body convulsed, and he tried to force out a scream from behind his gag.
“What’s wrong, runt? Not a fan of cigarettes? Guess that’s too bad.”
Tony held the glowing tip of the cigarette to Johnny’s stomach four more times, leaving behind a total of five perfectly cylindrical burns. He watched Gage writhe on the bed and listened with satisfaction as his guttural cries echoed in the room. Taking a drag from his “weapon”, Tony flicked the ash onto the bed next to his target before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Ginger Sweet followed.
In the quiet that followed, Johnny worked to cope with the pain radiating from his inflicted wounds. Involuntary tears leaked from beneath his blindfold, dampening the hair at his temples. Shudders wracked his thin frame.
The dark-haired paramedic lost all sense of time as he lay there. In a dreamlike haze, he heard crashes and clatters, accompanied by breaking glass, coming from throughout the apartment. Suddenly, he realized that he was no longer alone in the room and he stiffened.
“Afraid?” The grating voice whispered in Gage’s ear. “Good.”
Johnny made an attempt to turn his head away but was brought up short when Stone grabbed him roughly by the hair.
“Don’t turn away from me!” Tony slammed the paramedic’s head against the headboard to stress his point.
A pained moan was Gage’s response.
“You know, I could kill you. Right now. I could just wrap my hands around your neck and . . .”
Johnny felt large, strong hands close around his neck and begin to squeeze. As his air supply was slowly cut off, he began to thrash around. Then the hands were gone, leaving him hungering for air.
“But, killing you wouldn’t be any fun at all. This is much better. I had to make you pay, didn’t I, Fireboy? Well, it’s been a blast, runt. Gotta go.” The sound of Tony’s laughter lingered as he sauntered out of the room.
Through the buzzing in his ears, Johnny eventually heard the door to his apartment slam shut. He wanted desperately to escape his bonds but was too exhausted to make another attempt. With reluctance, he gave into the encroaching darkness. I need help . . .
* * *
Roy lined up for roll call at the beginning of next shift, shocked that his partner was nowhere around. He knew Captain Stanley was fuming that the youngest of his crew was late.
“DeSoto, any idea where Gage is?”
“Uh, no, Cap.”
“After we’re through, call him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dwyer, looks like you’re staying until Gage shows.” Dwyer nodded his assent.
The rest of roll call went quickly. As ordered, Roy tried his partner’s number. There was no answer, just as there had been no answer on Saturday night. With a sigh, Roy reported the result to Captain Stanley.
“Well, get started on your duties, but keep trying his apartment.”
Roy and Charlie completed their morning inspection of the squad and biophone before joining the others in the kitchen. After several sips of coffee, DeSoto made a phone call once more and again reported there was no answer.
“Cap, can Dwyer and I go over there? This isn’t like Johnny. He would have called if he knew he was going to be this late.”
“All right. Just keep yourselves available.”
Charlie jumped into the passenger seat as Roy smoothly slid behind the wheel, and they rolled out of the station.
As DeSoto drove the fairly short distance to his partner’s apartment complex, he felt his anxiety grow. Something wasn’t right. Johnny would never not show up for a shift. As he pulled into the lot and stopped, his eyes scanned the area for Gage’s Land Rover. Roy sighed when he spotted the vehicle sparkling under the hot morning sun.
The two paramedics exited the squad and jogged up the stairs to the second level of apartments. Reaching his destination, Roy pounded on the door.
“Johnny?”
A few seconds drifted by with no response from within.
“Johnny? Open up.”
When there was still no sound or movement from inside, Roy pulled out the spare key, unlocked the door, and swung it inward. The stench of rotting food mingled with the acrid smell of old cigarettes and enveloped them as they stepped inside.
DeSoto’s jaw dropped when he got a good look at the inside of his partner’s stifling hot apartment. All the furniture had been trashed and the cushions slit open allowing the stuffing to erupt. What was left of his television lay broken amidst shattered glass. Food from the refrigerator dotted the kitchen floor, rotting where it lay. Black spray paint marred the walls and windows from one end of the apartment to the other.
“What the hell? Johnny?” The senior paramedic raced for the bedroom calling his partner’s name. When he stepped through the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. Dwyer, following close behind, ran right into him.
“My God! Johnny! Charlie get the drug box and biophone from the squad. Call for the engine and an ambulance. And get the police over here.”
Roy approached the bed and knelt down next to his partner.
“Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?”
Placing a hand on Gage’s neck, the paramedic was relieved to feel a pulse, though it was rapid and thready. Johnny stirred not at all until Roy rubbed a fist against his sternum.
“Johnny, it’s Roy. You’re gonna be okay.”
DeSoto carefully began to peel away the gag.
He glanced at his partner’s arms, noting the dried blood that had run from beneath the metal bracelets. What the hell happened here? His eyes scanned the rest of Gage’s body, grimacing at both the raw wounds on his belly and the mess Johnny was laying in.
Charlie returned with the equipment and opened the line to Rampart. When Brackett responded, Roy took the phone.
“Rampart, we have a 28-year-old male suffering from severe dehydration. He is responsive to pain. He has burns on his stomach and wounds on his wrists from a set of handcuffs. He’s febrile. Pulse – 130 and thready. Respiration – 30. Stand by for BP.”
As Roy waited for Charlie to get the blood pressure reading, the siren from Engine 51 could be heard.
“BP is 80/50.”
“Rampart, BP is 80/50. Also, be advised that the victim is tightly blindfolded with a piece of cloth.”
Captain Stanley and the rest of A-shift rushed into the room, all equally shocked by the state of their youngest crew member’s apartment. They were totally unprepared to see the condition of the paramedic himself.
“51, administer 02 and start IV D5W TKO. Dress wounds. Continue to monitor vitals and transport immediately.”
“10-4, Rampart. Should we remove the blindfold from across the eyes?”
“Negative 51. Leave blindfold in place.”
“10-4, Rampart. Cap, we need to get these handcuffs off.”
Captain Stanley motioned for Marco to get some tools and turned his attention back to his senior paramedic.
“Roy, what the hell . . .”
“I don’t know, Cap. He’s in a bad way. Can you free his legs?” As Roy spoke, he attempted to establish the ordered IV. Sweat dripped from his chin.
“Charlie, I can’t get a vein. Can you get anything on that arm?”
“No. Nothing. He’s too dehydrated.”
“Damn, we’ll have to go for the neck.” Roy turned Johnny’s head to the side and gaped at the bruise-colored handprints encircling the dark-haired man’s neck.
“Look at this.” He grimly turned to his co-workers as he pointed out his new discovery. After a moment, he worked to establish the IV, breathing a sigh of relief when the needle successfully slid into the vein.
Moving aside so Chet could cut the handcuffs, Roy notified Rampart of the additional injury. When the cuffs were separated, the two paramedics readied Gage for transport.
Vince and the ambulance attendants arrived soon afterward. The police officer unlocked the cuffs and then did his best to get questions answered as they loaded Johnny onto the gurney and wheeled him out to the ambulance. There was precious little any of them could tell him.
As the stretcher slid into place, Roy climbed in beside it and set down his equipment. Dwyer placed the biophone at his feet before closing the doors and giving two solid taps for the “all clear”.
The fair-haired paramedic looked down at his partner as the ambulance pulled away. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath in an attempt to control his emotions.
A soft moan brought his attention back to the patient.
Roy did a vitals check and updated Rampart. Worry furrowed his brow.
* * *
Back at Johnny’s, Chet’s gaze encompassed the trashed apartment around him.
“Cap, I don’t understand. Who could do that to a person? This,” he gestured with his hands, “THIS is bad enough. But to do that to someone . . .” Disbelief colored his words.
“People can be cruel, Chet. Sometimes unbelievably so.”
Marco shook his head before saying, “Yeah, but what did Johnny ever do to anybody to cause this?”
Captain Stanley looked at his men, sadness and anger clouding his face. “I can’t even imagine. Let’s get back to the station. All we can do is wait.”
* * *
The ambulance ride seemed interminable, but soon they were backing up to the emergency room doors. The fair-haired paramedic and his patient were greeted by Dixie and Dr. Brackett who guided them to Treatment Room Two. Roy helped transfer his partner to the exam room table, updating the doctor as he did so.
“Dix, we need a Chem 20, Urine, BUN, and Creatinine. Let’s get a temp on him too.”
As Brackett barked his orders, he uncovered the burns on Johnny’s stomach. “These are infected. Any idea what happened, Roy?”
“No. We found him handcuffed and tied to his bed. I don’t know how long he was like that. I last saw him on Friday morning at 8:00 when we got off shift.”
“Judging from his condition, I’d say it was probably almost two full days.”
“Kel, his temp is 101.8.”
The doctor unwound the bandages encircling Gage’s wrists, eliciting a soft moan of discomfort.
“Looks like he fought to get free.”
“Yeah,” Roy whispered.
“Dix, let’s get some Ceftazidime on board,” the doctor eyed the contusions encircling the paramedic’s neck, “and get x-ray down here. I want pictures of head and neck.”
“Doc, can we take the blindfold off. When he comes around . . . well . . . I’d like him to be able to see us.”
Brackett looked up at Roy and nodded once in consent. “Let’s dim the lights a little.”
The doctor unwound the blindfold and tossed it aside. It had been secured so snugly, a distinctive groove marked its path. Brackett dripped some saline solution over Gage’s eyelids.
“Johnny? Johnny, open your eyes. It’s Dr. Brackett.”
The man on the exam table stirred slightly.
“John, open your eyes for me.”
After a few moments, his patient’s eyes fluttered and slowly opened. His eyes remained vacant for a second before alarm flooded them.
An arm weakly flailed in Brackett’s direction, as Johnny became distressed.
“N-n-no. Get ‘way.” His words were nothing more than a mumbled whisper creaking from his parched throat, “Help.”
Roy reached out and grabbed his partner’s hand.
“John. Johnny, it’s okay.”
“N-n-no.”
His partner’s gaze traveled the room before finally coming to rest on his blond-haired partner.
“You’re safe.”
“W-what?”
“You’re at Rampart.”
“H-h-hospital?”
“It’s gonna be all right, partner.”
Dwyer poked his head into the room.
“Roy, we gotta go. We’ve been toned out. It’s a big one.”
DeSoto sighed. He was reluctant to leave his partner but knew he had no choice.
“John, I’m sorry but I have to go.”
Gage stared at him with fever-glazed eyes for a second before he nodded his head.
“C-c-come back?”
“You bet. I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can.”
Roy left the room, passing the x-ray technician as he did so.
The dark-haired man turned his gaze to the doctor.
“John, after we get some x-rays, we’re going to attend to these wounds. Then we’ll get you cleaned up and admitted.”
The paramedic peered disinterestedly at the doctor before letting his eyes drift close. He nodded reluctantly.
* * *
Time had advanced well into afternoon when Johnny was finally settled into a room. His level of awareness had increased as the IV fluids had done their work, but his fever continued to rise, leaving him continually weak and groggy. The painful cleaning and dressing of his wounds had also taxed his remaining strength.
The dark-haired man lay in the bed staring woodenly at the wall. As awareness had returned, so had memories of what had happened. Along with those memories, came humiliation. The soft white gauze currently wrapped around his wrists still felt like the cold metal cuffs to him.
Gage shifted uncomfortably in the bed, battling the nausea that had begun plaguing him a short time ago. A shiver raced through his body, and he carefully pulled the yellow hospital blanket up to his chin. The IV tubing swayed slightly with the movement.
The sound of the door opening drew his attention. He looked over and saw his partner entering the room. Johnny watched him approach the bed.
“Hey, Junior, sorry I couldn’t get back before now. How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” Gage’s gaze slid down to the yellow blanket and stayed there. He couldn’t face his partner.
“Have . . . have the police talked to you?”
“Not yet.”
“Johnny, what . . . what . . .”
“Hey, Roy, I . . . I’m . . . tired . . . can . . . can we talk later?”
“Yeah . . . all right. Let’s wait until you’re feeling better. I should go anyway. Sutcliffe’s waiting for me. I’ll come by tomorrow after shift.”
“Um hmm.” Gage mumbled and closed his eyes. He waited anxiously for Roy to leave. The moment the door clicked shut, his eyes opened and resumed boring a hole into the far wall. He remained that way until Detective Harris from the police department entered his hospital room.
* * *
The tired crew sat at the table at Station 51. The massive fire earlier in the day had left them all achy and exhausted. But, what preyed upon their minds was what had happened to their friend and shift mate. Roy and his temporary partner, David Sutcliffe, had returned from their run to Rampart just in time to sit down with their co-workers for dinner.
Afterward, the talk naturally turned to Johnny. Because he was a regular A-shift crew member, David excused himself to allow the rest of them some privacy.
“Roy, do you know any more about what happened?”
“No, not yet, Cap. He wasn’t up to talking with me.”
“I sure hope he’s able to help the police. A Detective Harris called just before you guys got back. He’s coming to talk to us this evening, right after he speaks with Johnny.” The captain glanced at his watch. “In fact, he should be here any time.”
* * *
At 1:06 a.m., screams brought Nurse Sandra Aron racing into Room 417. Flipping on the light, she discovered the patient sitting straight up in bed, gasping to catch his breath. Nurse Aron rushed to his side.
“Mr. Gage, it’s all right. It’s all right.” The nurse placed her hands on his shoulders to ease him back down on the bed. Heat radiated from his body.
“Mr. Gage, I’m going to take your temperature.”
She slipped the thermometer under his tongue before procuring a set of vitals and checking his IV. She noted his temperature of 104.6 in his chart.
“I’m going to page Dr. Early. We’ll see if we can’t get you more comfortable.” Before she could turn and leave the room, the dark-haired man turned his head and began to dry heave. She wet a cloth and wiped it over his sweating face before leaving to summon the doctor.
Dr. Early answered his page almost immediately.
“Johnny, I hear you’re having a bad night.”
Gage moaned in response.
“Doctor, he woke up screaming. His temp is up to 104.6. He threw up once right before I paged you.”
Early did a quick examination, frowning a bit while looking at the wounds.
“Johnny, it looks like that antibiotic isn’t doing its job. I’m going to order a switch in medication. Nurse, let’s also start cooling measures.”
The silver-haired healer documented his orders in the chart. He reached out and patted the ailing man on the shoulder.
“Hang in there, Johnny. You should feel better soon.” The doctor left the room.
Sandy finished carrying out the new orders and prepared to leave the room, automatically reaching out to switch off the light.
“N-n-no! L-leave it on. Please.”
The nurse hesitated a brief second before dropping her hand and exiting the room, leaving the light shining brightly.
* * *
The next morning, Roy hurried through the emergency room doors on his way to see his partner. However, Dixie had called the station before the change of shift and asked to speak with him prior to the visit. Approaching the nurses’ station, he waited for Dixie to finish speaking to another nurse before saying anything.
“Good morning, Dix.”
“Hi, Roy.”
“You wanted to see me?”
The smile faded from the nurse’s face.
“Yeah.”
“Is Johnny okay?”
“He’s doing better now. He had a bad night though.”
“What happened?”
“From what I understand, he woke up screaming around one this morning. When the nurse went in to investigate, he was burning up. Joe decided the antibiotic wasn’t working the way we’d hoped and changed his medication. So far it’s working better than the first one.”
“But?”
“He wouldn’t let the nurse turn off the light. Every time she tried, he begged her not to. He also refuses to go to sleep. He won’t let us give him anything to help him sleep either.”
“He must be having nightmares.”
“I know. But he can’t go without sleeping. He needs to rest so his body can fight that infection and fever. I’m hoping you’ll be able to get through to him.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks, Dix.”
DeSoto gave the head nurse a small wave goodbye and headed for the elevator. In no time, he was standing in front of the door to Room 417. He pushed the door open softly with his right hand and entered the room. His partner lay staring at the wall. A light breakfast lay untouched on the tray.
“Johnny?”
The senior paramedic was surprised to see the man in the bed stiffen as if in fear. He pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. Even after talking to Dixie, Roy was shocked at his partner’s haggard appearance. Dark circles ringed his eyes, made more dramatic by the relative paleness of his face.
“You had a rough night, I hear. Are you feeling any better?”
“I’m okay. You didn’t have to come, you know.” The entire time he spoke his gaze remained on the wall.
“Johnny, c’mon, look at me.”
Gage reluctantly turned his head and met the other man’s gaze.
Roy was astonished to see shame lurking in Johnny’s dark brown eyes. For a long second, he was at a loss for words.
Gage shifted uncomfortably and his eyes once again slid away.
“Johnny, what are you ashamed of?”
A slight reddish tint darkened the other paramedic’s cheekbones.
“Y-y-you saw me like that. You and everyone else . . . the guys. Tied up like . . . like . . . an animal. Laying in my own . . . my own . . .” His throat tightened, choking off the rest of his statement.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have fought harder or something.”
“Fought harder? John, look at your wrists, for God’s sake! You bloodied them trying to get free.”
“But . . .”
“But what? You were attacked.”
“It probably disgusted you. The mess . . .”
“You’re a paramedic. You know there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.”
Gage didn’t retort.
“You had nightmares last night. It might help to talk about it.”
“I . . . I don’t . . .”
“Tell me what happened.”
He hated to do it, but Johnny knew he had to share what had happened despite his embarrassment at being so easily duped. The burden was more than he could carry alone.
“I . . . I had that date, remember? Her name was Ginger. We went out and had dinner, ya know. And she even invited herself back to my place for a drink. She was there when you called.”
“So that’s why you rushed me off the phone.”
“Yeah. Well, we sat down to have a beer. I remember taking a few sips and then
nothing . . . until I woke up and couldn’t see or move.”
Roy sat forward in the chair, placing his chin on his steepled fingers.
“I didn’t know what was happening. I heard voices and my first thought was for her.
But . . . but . . . then she suddenly was there taunting me. She was in on it all along.”
“Did she burn you with the cigarette?” The question stuck in the senior paramedic’s throat, barely escaping.
Johnny paled as he remembered the agony. “N-no. That was her boyfriend. He . . . uh
. . . he caught her sliding a hand over my stomach. He asked her what she saw in a runt like me and decided to teach her a lesson.”
“Is he responsible for the bruises on your neck too?”
“I . . . um . . . I turned my head away when he was talking to me. Guess it was my turn for a lesson. He slammed my head into the headboard and then choked me.”
The blond-haired paramedic wearily rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “He tried to kill you?”
“Not really, he said that wouldn’t be any fun.”
Roy’s mouth dropped open. “Fun? What the hell does that mean?”
“It was payback.” Gage laid his head back and closed his eyes. He was beyond exhaustion. After a few seconds, he opened them again.
DeSoto looked at his weary partner and decided it was time to end the conversation.
“You need to sleep, Junior. Your body needs the rest.”
“I can’t.”
“Forcing yourself to stay awake isn’t doing you any good.”
“I’m . . . I’m not trying to be a pain. It’s just that every time I close my eyes, it’s like I won’t be able to open them again. Like I’ll be back there . . . alone.”
“Let them give you something. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, and I’ll make sure that someone’s here when you wake up.”
Knowing his body desperately craved sleep, Johnny swallowed his fear and distress. He nodded his head.
Roy summoned the nurse who quickly came and administered the medication. The senior paramedic sat quietly as he watched his friend’s eyelids droop. When he was sure, Johnny was asleep, he left the room.
* * *
A short way down the hall, he ran into Kelly Brackett.
“Hey, Roy. You just came from Johnny’s room?”
“Yeah, I managed to talk him into taking something to help him sleep.”
“Good. Good. I’m going to ask Dr. Matt Morales to come down and talk to him.”
“The psychiatrist?”
“Yes, the best in the business and a good friend of mine. I think Johnny’s going to need him.”
“I agree. We talked a little about what happened. But, I think talking to a professional is a good idea. He’s ashamed of the state he was in when we found him. He thinks we’ll all be disgusted by him.”
Brackett frowned in consternation at this.
“I’ll get Dr. Morales to speak with him as soon as I can. For now, it’s good that he’s getting some rest. We’re having trouble getting that infection under control. Some sleep might help.”
“I’m gonna call Joanne and have her come down. I promised him that someone would be there when he woke up. I’m meeting the guys at Johnny’s apartment to see if we can get it fixed up.”
“It was that bad?”
“Doc, you wouldn’t believe it. I don’t think he has a piece of furniture left. And the walls and windows are plastered with black spray paint. I still have to tell Johnny.”
“Well, if you need help fixing his place, let us know. We’re all willing to help.”
“I’ll do that, Doc. Thanks.”
The two men parted ways.
* * *
The rest of the men from A-shift were already at Johnny’s place when Roy arrived. Stoker’s red pick up truck sat in the parking lot ready to receive the remnants of Gage’s furniture to be hauled away. He hurried through the open door of his partner’s apartment. The guys were hard at work inside. The broken glass and rotting food had been cleared from the kitchen floor, and Marco was busy mopping it for a second time. Cap, Chet, and Mike were all assembled in the living room gathering together the first load of debris to haul off.
“Hey, Roy,” Hank added an armful of sofa stuffing to a growing pile and walked over to the paramedic, “how’s John?”
“Physically, he’s doing a little better, but the docs are still worried about that infection. Emotionally, he’s having a tough time though which isn’t doing him any good.”
“Is there anything else we can do for him?”
“No . . . nothing. Except treat him as you normally would. He . . . uh . . . he thinks we’re . . . disgusted by him. Because of the way we found him.”
Stanley’s mouth tightened into a thin line as he thought about the torment plaguing his youngest crew member.
Before he could comment though, Chet sidled over and interrupted.
“How’s Gage?”
“He’s hanging in there, Chet.”
“You know, what happened to him just wasn’t . . . wasn’t . . .”
“Yeah, I know,” commented Roy in a low voice.
By now, Marco and Mike had joined the trio of men.
Mike gave a small smile before he spoke. “Roy, we . . . we got to talking about stuff and . . . well, I talked to my mom and she’s going to give me the couch from their living room. I told her Johnny’s place had been hit by vandals.”
“I have a big chair in storage. I’m gonna get that and bring it over,” Marco chimed in.
“Yeah, and my mom has a set of dishes and silverware in the attic. She said I could have it,” Chet added.
“Ellie is going to make some curtains and I’ll get the paint to repaint the walls.” Captain Stanley murmured. “I’ve already talked to the landlord about getting new windows so we’re all set there.”
Roy stared for a moment at the firefighters before him. As always, their generosity toward one of their own amazed him. Brotherhood was a good description for those in the fire service. He cleared his throat before speaking.
“I just talked to Joanne about getting a new bed for him.” When he’d called her from the hospital, they’d discussed it a little and had decided to use some of their vacation money in order to do this for their friend.
The captain nodded his head. “I thought too that between the six of us we could collect enough for a TV.”
Roy acquiesced and placed his hands on his hips. “I guess we should get this stuff outta here then so we can paint.”
* * *
Joanne closed the book she was reading when she heard Johnny stirring in the bed. She’d heard him moan and saw him twitch several times while asleep but he was now coming around. She glanced up just in time to see his eyes blink open.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she teased and patted his shoulder.
He jumped slightly at her cool touch.
“Jo? What . . .?”
“Roy asked me to come and sit with you.”
Chagrined, Johnny looked closely at his best friend’s wife certain he would see disgust in her eyes. When he saw nothing but love and friendship, he felt the knot in his gut loosen a little.
“Uh . . . thanks, Jo. What a miserable way for you to spend your day though.”
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t mind at all. You know I’m here for you, Johnny, anytime.”
Just then the door to the room opened.
“Oh, good, you’re awake, Mr. Gage. I’m Matt Morales. Dr. Brackett asked me to stop by and see you. Is it all right if we talk?”
Johnny glanced at Joanne and then back at the doctor.
“Uh . . . sure . . . I guess.”
Joanne smiled at the dark-haired man and squeezed his hand in encouragement. “Johnny, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
She turned to go and then whipped back around. “OH! A nurse dropped this off for you earlier. I told her I’d make sure you got it.” Joanne handed him the card she been given and left the two men alone to talk.
* * *
Johnny watched Dr. Morales’s back as the man exited the room. He raised a shaky hand and ran it through his hair. The last thing he wanted to do was see a psychiatrist, and yet the twenty minute talk they’d just had had left him feeling somewhat better. Dr. Morales wanted him to consent to several more visits. Now he had to decide if he would.
From the corner of his eye, Johnny spied the lime green envelope Joanne had given him laying on the bed. With a small smile, the paramedic grabbed it and tore it open. Pulling the get well card out, he momentarily wondered who had sent it. When he opened the flowery missive, a photo dropped facedown into his lap. Turning the snapshot over, he gasped in surprise and the blood drained from his face. The image on the Polaroid was of him bound and gagged. Written in the white space below the picture were the words, “My, my, don’t you look cute? We’re not done, runt.”
Johnny stared at the picture for a long moment, chills running down his spine. God, not again. Not again. He felt once more the sting of those metal cuffs biting into his flesh and the oppressive darkness pressing against his eyes.
Instinct urged him to flee. Kicking off the covers, the young paramedic sat up. The card and picture fluttered to the floor unnoticed. With a grimace, he pulled the IV now located in his arm, ignoring the resultant trickle of blood. He stood up, holding tightly to the side of the bed as he was assaulted with dizziness. Anxiety stiffened his weak knees and Johnny wobbled his way to the door. Easing it open, he noted immediately that the hallway was empty. Making his escape while he could, the dark-haired medic shuffled a short way down the corridor to the emergency stairwell. A light sheen of sweat adorned his face by the time he descended the first flight and his legs threatened to give way, but determination kept his feet moving until he reached the final landing at which point his strength fled, and Johnny sank to the floor. With a sigh, he acknowledged to himself that he couldn’t go any farther. Nor at that moment did he have the strength to make it back to his room. Who was I kidding anyway? He hung his head in defeat and lay huddled on the cold, concrete floor. A shiver danced across his scantily-clad body.
