* Clink...Clang...CLATTER *

"OUCH!"

The unmistakable sound of tools hitting metal and body parts filtered in through the open windows of Station 51. Five of the members from A-shift sat around the table, trying to ignore the increasing racket taking place in the back parking lot, as per orders from the man directly responsible for the ruckus.

* Ching...Ching...Ching *

"Aw, MAN!"

* Bang...bang...<Silence> *

Chet Kelly stood suddenly and slapped the table with both hands. "That does it!" he announced. "I’m going out there and see what Gage is up to..."

"Now, wait a minute, Chet," Roy DeSoto intervened. "Johnny said to wait till he was done...some big surprise or something he’s working on."

"Ah, but, Roy! This is too good not to get in on from the beginning! Too much ammunition for the Phantom to miss, if you know what I mean..." Chet’s eyes gleamed with the very thought.

"Look, Chet, just give him..." Roy paused as his eyes drifted past Chet to his partner who had just appeared at the back door. Johnny leaned his tall lean frame easily against the doorjamb, wiping greasy hands on a rumpled rag, and wearing a grin the size of California.

"Well...?" he asked the group with great relish. "Doesn’t any one want to see the latest of the latest?"

"Gee, I don’t know, Gage..." Chet said nonchalantly, "will it blow up on us when we get there?"

Marco Lopez stifled his laughter. "Don’t let Chet fool you, Johnny. He’s been dying to get out there."

"Nah," Chet said, shaking his head, "I’m just curious to see what kind of trouble this ‘latest’ of Gage’s is going to get him into."

"Sure you are, Chet," Roy said. "I don’t know about you, but my curiosity has had all it can take!" Roy scooted his chair out from the table and paused for a moment to see who was joining him.

Johnny seemed undaunted by Chet’s attempt to rattle his cage. He leaned against the door as if he had no cares in the world, still sporting the grin he’d brought in with him, and still wiping his now-cleaner hands on a decidedly dirtier rag.

One by one, the other men followed Roy’s lead, and the entire crew followed Johnny out into the parking lot, like school kids playing 'Follow the Leader'. Johnny led his merry little band of followers toward his beat-up, old pickup truck. Just as he reached the opened driver’s door, he spun around and blocked their view into the cab, resting one arm on the door and the other on the roof of the truck.

"Gentlemen," Johnny began with a flourish, "I would like to introduce you to the latest rage in all the land."

"Looks like the same old wreck you’ve been driving, Gage," Chet said with obvious sarcasm in his voice. "Why don’t you just put this poor thing out its misery and get yourself something decent to drive?"

"Because, Chet!" Johnny allowed Chet’s needling to sidetrack him. "Unlike you, I’m saving enough money to get something more reliable than that tin can you drive!"

"Ahem!" Captain Stanley interrupted. "Can we get on with this?"

"My pleasure..." Johnny readily agreed, flashing a victorious smile in Chet’s direction. He stepped aside to allow them access to the inside of his truck. The five men craned their necks to get a peek at Johnny’s current obsession.

"What are we supposed to be looking at, Johnny?" Cap finally asked.

"Yeah, John," Mike Stoker added, "what are we supposed to be looking at?"

"All I see is remnants of yesterday’s dinner lying on the passenger floor," Chet observed from a distance.

"Oh, c’mon you guys!" Johnny said in frustration. All his hard work, and these guys turned out to be blinder than bats. "It’s right there! Under the dash!" He stepped in front of his captain and pointed at a black box mounted under the dash of his truck.

"A radio?" Chet nearly choked on his words. "You had us all in some big suspense over a stupid radio?"

"Lot you know, Chet!" Johnny shot back. "It’s not just a radio..."

Roy recognized the signs of growing frustration in his partner’s voice and thought it prudent to step in before this incident became a daylong rant, if it weren’t too late already.

"Isn’t that a CB radio, Johnny?" Roy quickly pointed out the obvious for the benefit of the other men.

With a short grunt, Johnny turned to his partner. "At least there’s one knowledgeable person in this group!"

"And you’re saying Cap is not knowledgeable?" Chet fired back with great glee. He loved it when Johnny opened such a wide door of opportunity.

"That’s not...Cap, you know I...I didn’t mean..." Johnny stammered. "Kelly...!" he hissed between his teeth.

"That’s okay, John, I know you didn’t mean that the way it came out..." Cap said, trying to keep a straight face.

"What do you need a CB radio for, Gage?" Chet taunted. "Don’t you get enough of talking over radios on the job?"

"You know," Mike stated matter-of-factly, "my brother-in-law has one of these in his work van. Comes in real handy for the job."

"It’s not just for jobs anymore, Mike," Johnny said, effectively ignoring Chet’s comment. "Everyone’s getting them."

"At the risk of repeating myself..." Chet was determined to make his point.

"Since when do you worrying about repeating yourself, Chet?" Johnny smirked.

Following Johnny’s example, Chet ignored his comment and continued. "What do you need a CB for?"

Five sets of eyes turned on Johnny. Apparently, they all wanted an answer to this question.

"Well?" Johnny squirmed under their scrutiny. "There’s lots you can do with a CB!"

"Like what?" Roy asked. Even he couldn’t see the appeal of mounting a CB in a privately owed vehicle.

"What do you mean, ‘like what’?" Johnny’s frustration was growing. "You can talk to other people, for one!"

"And number two would be?" Chet pushed for more of an answer just because he liked to push Johnny’s buttons.

"Number two would be..." Johnny stalled while he thought of an answer that would settle this discussion. "Number two would be..."

"And he accuses ME of repeating myself..." Chet snickered.

"SHUT UP, CHET! Number two would be...they come in handy for emergencies!" Johnny smiled and crossed his arms in satisfaction for coming up with a number two in the first place.

"Oh, by all means then, this is a must for you!" Chet shook his head in wonderment at Johnny’s continual fuel for torment.

"No... no, I can see Johnny’s point." Roy came to his partner’s defense. "I mean, it’s not like we can carry a phone around with us when we’re driving. If you break down, you just call for help over the radio, right?"

"Exactly!" Johnny’s face glowed with a sense of victory. "Here! Let me demonstrate..."

Johnny leaned into the truck and reached over to click a button on the black box. He fiddled with the channel knob, grabbed the mic and depressed its button.

"Breaker, 1-9..." Johnny released the button and waited. When no one answered his call, he adjusted the squelch knob to increase his chances of hearing a response even though it increased the amount of static over the tiny speaker. "Break, 1-9..." he repeated.

"Oh, this is good, Gage," Chet harassed him. "This is very good static you’re picking up!"

"It’s not ‘static’, Kelly," Johnny rebuffed, "it’s called ‘white noise’."

"Funny," Chet pondered, "sounds just like static...now what are the odds of that happening?"

Determined to show his co-workers the wonders of his new acquisition, Johnny tried to pick up a signal, calling repeatedly into the mic. His efforts proved fruitless.

"Well, this is all very exciting, John," Cap agreed, "but seeing how it’s your turn to cook, I’d like to see some food on the table before we..."

The accident had been a minor one and the victims on the scene had refused treatment, which freed the paramedics from a follow-up call. Back at the station, the engine waited its turn while the squad backed into the bay. As Mike pulled the engine to a stop, the ongoing conversation from the squad drifted within earshot of the rest of the men.

"But Roy, everyone has one!" Johnny insisted. "It can’t be that hard to think of one! All I’m asking is for one little suggestion! Is that too much to ask of your partner and best friend?"

"Look, I already gave you ‘one little suggestion’, and you didn’t like it," Roy reminded his partner.

"Huh! Galloping Gage wasn’t a suggestion...it was a JOKE!" Johnny chided. "Wasn’t it?"

"Hey, Galloping Gage!" Chet called out as he deposited his turnout coat back in the jumpseat of the engine. "What’s the crisis now?"

"None of your business, Chet!" Johnny yelled over his shoulder. He slammed the passenger door of the squad and followed Roy into the day room, hoping Chet would head off in the other direction. Experience told him that would not be likely. As expected, Chet followed closely behind on Johnny’s heels, determined not to miss yet another chance to needle him.

"Oh c’mon, Johnny." Chet decided to change his tactics and take a stab at sincerity, false though it may have been. "Seriously, maybe I can help..." When Johnny slumped his shoulders, Chet knew he had his own personal ‘pigeon’ in his sights. Roy’s warning glare should have been enough to deter him but Chet conveniently ignored the senior paramedic.

Against his better judgment, Johnny gave in to Chet’s offer. "You know my CB, right?"

"Well, not personally," Chet smiled, "but yeah, I remember it." Johnny’s expression told him he was pushing his luck already. "Uh, sorry...go ahead..."

"Well...you need a ‘handle’ of some sort when you’re transmitting, you know? A name to use...and I just can’t come up with anything that doesn’t sound...well, stupid..." Johnny confessed.

"Oooh, I see now...that’s what Galloping Gage was all about." Chet nodded to Roy, who still had that ‘look’ on his face. "You’re right...lame, Roy, lame..."

"I wouldn’t go so far as to say that," Roy defended himself. "That’s what they called him in high school!"

"Yeah, high school, Roy, but I’m not in high school anymore!" Johnny couldn’t believe his partner even suggested Galloping Gage.

Chet had to bite his tongue, literally, though his mind was reeling with at least a dozen comebacks to that statement.

"What kind of a handle did you want, Johnny?" Marco found himself intrigued with the idea and, unlike Chet, really wanted to help.

"Yeah, John," Cap added. "You want it work related? Personal?"

Johnny ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "Well, that’s just it...I don’t know!"

"Whoever thought that owning a CB would be so complicated, huh, Gage?" Chet was dying inside. He could think of a few 'helpful' suggestions of his own, but patiently waited his turn. After all, timing was everything...

"How about Smokey?" Mike suggested. "After your poster..."

"Can’t use that, Mike..." Johnny informed him, "...that’s the handle reserved for cops."

"Hose Jockey?" Cap asked.

‘Hose Jockey..." Johnny repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that’s about the first good idea I’ve heard yet...but, I don’t know..."

Chet cleared his throat. It was high time for him to step in... "Well, if you want my suggestion..."

"How about Big Red?" Roy interrupted, hoping to delay Chet as long as possible.

"That’d be fine if I worked the engine, Roy." Johnny sighed and leaned against the counter.

"Well, if no one wants to hear my suggestions..." Chet complained loudly wearing an exaggerated pout on his face.

"Alright, Chet...cough it up." Johnny braced himself for the inevitable ribbing he knew was forthcoming.

"I thought you’d never ask!" Chet said, instantly betraying himself with his trademark Phantom smile. He counted down the suggestions on his fingers, one by one.

"Okay, let’s see then...we’ve already ruled out Galloping Gage, Smokey, Hose Jockey, and Big Red..."

Roy wasn’t sure if he should sigh a breath of relief or not, as it seemed that Chet was actually serious about contributing to this conversation in a constructive manner. At least he hoped Chet was serious. Even Johnny’s face relaxed as Chet counted off the discarded handles.

Chet continued, though the grin growing on his face betrayed his next words..."That leaves us with...Fire Bomb, since we know how often Gages bombs on a date..." His cheeks puffed out as he imitated an explosion. "...Gullible Gage, since...well, that’s self-explanatory. Perfect Pigeon...my personal favorite..." He emphasized the latter suggestion by placing his hand over his heart. "And can’t forget Little Red, since Big Red hardly applies to Gage...There’s Squad Man, as opposed to Super Man, which we all know Johnny is NOT...Junior, which Roy is always calling him anyway...and let’s see here, there MUST be dozens more!" Chet folded his arms in triumph, ready and waiting for Johnny’s reaction.

Roy’s mouth was agape, as were the rest of the crew’s, waiting for Johnny to explode over Chet’s bogus recommendations. However, his partner was not turning the ten shades of red that normally followed a Chet torture session. In fact, Johnny seemed deep in thought, which piqued Roy’s curiosity.

Now I wonder what those gears in his head are churning out? Roy wondered.

"Junior..." Johnny said slowly and deliberately. "Huh...ya’ know? I kinda like it!"

Roy smiled broadly, caught up in Johnny’s enthusiasm and inadvertent ability to turn the table on Chet. "Well, it fits! That’s for sure."

"Yeah!" Johnny agreed enthusiastically. "Junior! THANKS, Chet!" He slapped the dumfounded jokester on the back, and headed toward the back door, all the while chanting CB-eze to himself... "Yeah...Junior here...10-4, Junior out...This is Junior, c’mon back..."

"I don’t believe it..." Chet muttered in disbelief.

Roy leaned in close to Chet and smiled as he spoke. "Believe it, Chet..."

"I don’t think my idea was that bad!" Johnny frowned. He and Roy were waiting by the base station at Rampart Hospital to stock up on supplies after their last call.

"What’s not such a bad idea?" Dixie McCall asked as she emerged from the treatment room.

"How’s Mr. Hill?" inquired Johnny. He was curious to see how their patient had responded to treatment, and hoped to avoid her question at the same time. He pulled up the stool from the corner of the base station and plopped down on the wooden seat.

"Looks like he’ll be just fine, Johnny," Dixie assured him.

Johnny nodded his head in relief. "Good...ah, Dix, we’ll be needing..."

"Now...what’s not such a bad idea?" Dixie interrupted, smiling mischievously at Johnny. As head nurse, Dixie had gotten to know all the paramedics that worked with Rampart quite well – these two in particular. She also recognized when John Gage was trying to avoid a question, and all signs were pointing in that direction right now.

"Johnny thinks..." Roy started to explain.

"Roy..." Johnny warned lightly between clenched teeth, "it was just an idea, no need to bother Dix with it."

"Johnny thinks the squads should have some kind of handle instead of identifying themselves by their stations," Roy explained away with an impish grin.

The stool that Johnny had been sitting on nearly fell over backwards when he jumped off of it to rise to his defense. "I never said we should, I just said, I thought it’d be kinda cool if we could...you know?"

"Johnny bought himself a new CB for his truck last week and that’s all we’re hearing about at the station," Roy continued to explain to Dixie. "That, and the fact that he can’t seem to get much of anything on it but static."

"It’s NOT static, Roy," Johnny protested, "it’s..."

"Oh that’s right, it’s not static...it’s ‘white noise’..." Roy corrected himself with a smirk on his face.

"I heard you bought a radio, Johnny," Dixie addressed the embarrassed paramedic. "So, what is your handle?"

"Junior," Roy answered for him.

"I can talk!" Johnny protested. Wedging himself between Roy and Dixie, he turned his back on his partner until he stood face to face with Dixie and repeated, "Junior."

"Fits you," she said honestly.

"Yeah?" Johnny flashed an easy grin. "It does, doesn’t it? I wasn’t so sure at first, you know. Well, I was sure at first, but then I got to thinking about it. You know Chet suggested it? Well, along with a bunch of other dumb suggestions. But it does fit, doesn’t it? And I think I’ve got that sta-, uh, white noise problem figured out." Using both hands to demonstrate, he began to explain the problem in detail, but rapidly lost his focus. "You see..." Johnny’s eye drifted past Dixie as something down the hall caught his attention. "...there’s this...ah, wire...um, ‘scuse me, Dix."

Patting Dixie lightly on the shoulder, Johnny followed his gaze as he took off in long swift strides down the hall, leaving the head nurse and his partner in his wake.

"Was it something I said?" Dixie asked Roy in amusement.

Roy shook his head and pointed down the hall where his partner was already in lively conversation with an attractive blonde nurse.

"Ah, I see he’s met Janice," Dixie smiled. "She just rotated down here from pediatrics. Said she wanted as much experience as she could get with all phases of the hospital. Nice girl, very ambitious."

"Well, let’s just hope she’s energetic enough to keep up with that partner of mine," Roy joked.

Dixie glanced down the hallway and considered the possible pairing, "I think she can hold her own...now, let’s get you those supplies..."

"Well?" Roy asked his unusually quiet partner as they drove back to the station.

"Well, what?"

"Tell me about the girl," Roy prodded.

"Girl?" Johnny asked distractedly.

"Janice...you remember...that pretty blonde you were talking to?"

"I remember!" Johnny answered impatiently. "She’s a nice girl, that’s all."

"She turned you down," Roy stated sympathetically.

"She didn’t turn me down!" Johnny protested. "In fact, she asked me if I was free this weekend."

"So, you have a date," Roy elaborated for him.

"Well, not exactly..." Johnny admitted sheepishly.

"How can you ‘not exactly’ have a date?" Roy inquired. When Johnny rubbed his chin apprehensively, Roy smiled. The two of them had been partners long enough for him to recognize when Johnny had gotten in over his head.

"Well, it seems she’s from this small town outside of L.A., up in the hills," Johnny explained while Roy listened patiently. "You know, she’s pretty incredible. She’s already done a rotation in ICU and pediatrics. She wants to take all that experience and go back and help her hometown. I guess there’s not much around when it comes to medical care. That makes her pretty incredible, right?" Johnny looked to Roy for confirmation on his assessment of Janice.

"Yes, Johnny, that makes her pretty incredible," Roy agreed, wondering what any of that had to do with his dating status.

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Johnny answered thoughtfully.

When silence filled the squad, Roy felt compelled to ask, "So what was it she wanted you to do this weekend?"

"Oh that...Well, when I told her I was a paramedic, she got all excited, you know?" Johnny grinned. "And, uh, she asked if I could sort of go up there and give a demonstration or something..."

"Or something?"

"Well, yeah, she asked if I would volunteer to give a class on CPR to some of the townsfolk," Johnny finally admitted. "I told her I’d have to clear it with the department, but that shouldn’t be a problem."

"Is she going to be there, too?" Roy knew there had to be more to this story.

"Not exactly," Johnny frowned.

Here we go again, thought Roy, though he was continually amazed at how much information Johnny managed to glean from such short conversations.

"She’s, ah, she has to work on Saturday," Johnny confessed with a good dose of disappointment in his voice. "You know, I thought she was too good to be true..."

"Never know, Junior." Roy tried to bolster his partner’s confidence. "She just might be so grateful for the help that she’d be willing to go out with you after this weekend."

"Ya’ think so?" Johnny perked up with renewed hope.

"You never know..." Roy smiled as they pulled up in front of the station.

Early Saturday morning found an off-duty John Gage lying face down in his bed with his pillow pulled over his head. Inches away and determined not to be ignored, his alarm clock buzzed merrily away on the nightstand. Groaning, Johnny reached up and threw his pillow to the floor before slapping the top button on the excessively perky alarm clock.

"Shut UP already, will ya’?" he commanded the inanimate object. Johnny rolled over onto his back and spread his arms out across the sheets as he stared up at the ceiling. "I must have been crazy...getting up at the crack of dawn on my day off to impress some chick that’s not even gonna be there...I must have been crazy..." he lamented.

As tempted as he was to roll over and conveniently forget his prearranged commitment, Johnny knew it would be a black mark on the department if he failed to show up. Dedication to his job won out over his desire to sleep in and he grudgingly rolled out of bed.

Oh well, he thought, at least I finally get a chance to use my CB out on the road. The drive to his CPR class was just under two hours and he hoped to catch some chatty truck driver to help wile away the time. The very thought of playing with his new toy bolstered his spirit as he hastened to shower. He slipped a T-shirt over his head and ran a comb haphazardly through his wet hair. Grabbing a jacket as an afterthought, he bounded out of his apartment and headed for the parking lot.

Johnny hopped into the cab of his truck and started the engine. Before shifting into reverse, he flipped the power switch to his CB and grabbed the mic.

"Okay...let’s see if you’re gonna work for me today..." Despite his repeated reassurances to the rest of the guys, Johnny had been stumped by the continued static problem. Holding his breath, he depressed the button to the mic.

"Break 1-9 for radio check." He could feel his heart thumping as he listened intently for what he hoped would be a clear transmission from some kind soul out there willing to acknowledge his call. When no one answered, he tried again. "Break 1-9 for radio check...Junior out..." He smiled at the use of his handle, then closed his eyes as if in silent prayer.

A disembodied, yet clear, baritone voice bellowed out from the tiny speaker of the CB radio. "We gotcha, Junior, comin’ in loud and clear...you’ve got Rosie on the horn...."

Johnny smiled at the radio with utter satisfaction. "10-4, Rosie, thanks for the 10-32."

A brief crackle followed, then... "Anytime, Junior, just stopping for a 10-100...take it easy now...Rosie out..."

Satisfied that everything was in working order, Johnny placed the mic back in its cradle. Still smiling at his successful transmission, he backed out of his parking spot and headed out for northernmost regions of L.A. County.

Traffic in the city was thicker than he had anticipated on this early Saturday morning. The steady stream of weekend drivers slowed the normal fast-paced flow and clogged the roads. Johnny soon realized it would take the better part of two hours to reach his destination – a fact he frowned upon, considering he’d left no leeway time.

Once he was out of the city limits, Johnny relaxed and enjoyed the drive. He turned the radio up to hear his music over the rush of the wind coming in through the open windows. The hills were green and lush and he soon got so lost in the scenery around him that he ended up getting lost...for real.

Pulling to a stop on the side of the road, Johnny pulled out his map and the written directions he’d received from Janice just the day before.

"Oh, for crying out loud, I direct the squad every shift! How can I get lost just trying to...wait a minute..." he interrupted his soliloquy, "I see where I went wrong..."

Tossing the map and directions on the seat next to him, he glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled back out onto the road.

* SCREECH! *

The jerking sound of air brakes jolted him and he swerved his truck back onto the shoulder, nearly running himself off the road in the process. Johnny waited with sickening certainty for what he feared would be the inevitable sound of impact.

Impact never came. Instead, the blaring of an airhorn sounded as a large diesel truck roared past with only inches to spare. When all was silent, Johnny dared to breathe again. He watched as the 18-wheeler pulled over further down the road.

"That was too close," Johnny whispered. He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. Suddenly, an angry voice caught Johnny’s attention. He looked up to see a very large, very angry truck driver headed in his direction.

"What the hell’s matter with you, boy? You trying to get me killed?"

Still trying to recover from the near miss, Johnny got out of his truck to meet with the Goliath-sized driver with the booming voice.

"Man, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you coming ‘round that corner," Johnny apologized to the burly man with the heavy beard. "I looked in my mirror and the coast was clear. I never..."

"You almost never’d nothin’!" Goliath jeered. "If I didn’t have a schedule to meet, I’d have let my big rig eat your that miserable little truck of yours for breakfast!"

It was evident that no amount of apologizing or reasoning was going to placate this ill-tempered trucker. Johnny only hoped he’d live to tell his side of the story as the man continued to approach him.

"Look, no harm done, right?" Johnny tried to reason with him anyway. "Let’s just go about our business and forget this ever happened, alright?"

By now, the two men stood face to face – so close that Johnny could feel the warmth of the other man’s heavy breath. Johnny swallowed hard as he waited for Goliath’s reaction. The big man raised his arm and pointedly stuck a finger in Johnny’s face.

"I EVER see you pulling a stunt like that again, mister, and you won’t know what hit you into next week," Goliath threatened.

Johnny’s own anger threatened to spill over, but he knew better than to goad this mammoth stranger into a confrontation. Instead, he nodded his head and backed off slowly with his hands raised in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture.

Whether it was Johnny’s approach to the situation that did the trick or the fact that the trucker realized that he did indeed have that schedule to keep, Johnny didn’t know. Goliath backed off, though he kept his eyes trained on Johnny as he grumbled his way back to his truck without further incident. Johnny remained in place by the side of the road until the back end of the large semi-truck disappeared around the next corner.

"Man, that was TOO close..." He let out a breath and put a hand on his truck to steady himself. He knew he had looked in the rearview mirror and had seen that the coast was clear. The only conclusion he could come to was that the truck driver had been traveling well over the posted speed limit as he barreled around that last curve.

Johnny climbed back into his vehicle and took special care to check behind him before he pulled out onto the road again.

"That guy better be careful," he fumed. "Driving that fast just gets people killed..."

Thirty minutes later, a niggling doubt rooted itself in Johnny’s mind. He was pretty sure that he’d gotten back on track after that last turn, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He looked for a place on the side of the road where he could pull over and check his road map when he spotted a small gas station up ahead.

"Good deal!"

Smiling at his good fortune, he accelerated his truck and headed towards help. As he pulled into the pitted parking lot, he groaned when he spotted the lone truck sitting by the pumps.

It was Goliath’s truck.

Johnny’s gut reaction told him to pull right back out of that lot before he found himself in another situation he’d rather avoid. Still, he needed those directions and he was not about to let some goon keep him from his appointment. Parking near the front door, he let his pickup idle with the idea of running in, asking directions, and leaving again just as quickly as he could.

The small, dingy office appeared empty when Johnny poked his head in the door. He stepped inside, hoping against hope to find the employee, and only the employee, lurking inside. A clanging noise and the sound of voices directed his attention to the motor bay. He hesitated for a minute, realizing that one of those voices probably belonged to the owner of the semi-truck parked outside. Before he could change his mind, the doorway filled with the hulking body of an all-too-familiar truck driver.

"Well, speak of the Devil!" Goliath observed smugly. "Hey, Morey! This here’s the little runt I was tellin’ ya’ about!"

Johnny’s blood pressure rose with each word the big man spat out, but he kept his temper in check. A confrontation wouldn’t do anybody any good, especially him, considering the disproportionate sizes between the two men.

"Look, Man, I just need some directions and then I’m out of here, okay?" Johnny kept his voice calm in spite of his rising anger. "I don’t want any trouble."

Goliath never replied. Deep-seated rancor filled every line on his face. The stench of stale cigarettes and motor oil reeked from the man, coupling to form a pungent odor that flooded the confining office space. Black menacing eyes bore into Johnny, bringing an icy chill to the room.

Johnny shivered involuntarily.

He backed towards the door, intending to leave without his directions when another man popped his head from behind the imposing figure before him.

"Hallo there, Morey’s the name. What can I do ya’ for?" The second man was smaller in stature – by two-thirds at least.

"Uh, hi," Johnny answered, running his hand nervously through his hair. "I...um...I was just wondering if you could direct me to the White Mountain Clinic." He kept his eyes trained on Morey while purposely ignoring the glaring stare of the surly trucker planted firmly in the doorway.

"You mean the one up by Bear Creek? Sure thing!" Morey flashed a quick smile. The slight man wedged himself between the doorframe and Goliath, hitting the larger man on the arm. "Do you MIND?"

Johnny gulped at the audacity of the smaller man. Positive that Goliath would knock poor Morey into next week, Johnny watched as the truck driver stepped aside without so much as a whimper.

Morey sidestepped several parts boxes as he made his way to the front counter. Leaning over the grease-smeared countertop, he pulled out a pad and pen and scribbled out directions to the clinic. While Morey rambled away in mindless chatter, Johnny shifted uneasily from one foot to another under the scrutiny of Goliath.

"There ya’ be, young man." Morey smiled easily as he handed the smudged paper to a grateful Johnny. "You’re on the right track. Won’t take you more’n an hour to get there, by my way of thinkin’."

"Thanks, you saved my life," Johnny said, mindful of the other man boring daggers at his back from his stance by the door.

"Now..." Morey directed his attention to Goliath. "Let’s get your ugly mug out of here!"

Johnny marveled at the small man with large nerve. Only a man’s mechanic could get away with that type of behavior. Before he could hustle out of the small office and back to his pickup, the trucker took one step forward and propped his arm across the door, blocking Johnny’s passage.

"See ya’ down the road...Kid!" A heavy tone of ominous suggestion laced the big man's words.

Out on the road again, Johnny’s frayed nerves calmed down as the wind resumed its rhythmic chant through the open windows. By his calculations, and according to Morey’s directions, he still had a good hour on the road. He also noted that he would be over an hour late, thanks to the wrong turn he had taken earlier.

Tired of listening to music, Johnny decided it was high time to try out his CB radio. He held his breath as he reached down to switch the radios over.

"Okay, Johnny, let’s see whatcha got..."

He held his breath and listened. His reward came when the conversation between two truckers streamed in with crystal clarity.

"Ha, Chet! Told ya’ I could fix that static problem!"

Of course, his triumph was unrealized for the moment and he knew it. He also knew it was only a matter of time before he could throw it in Chet’s face and that was victory enough for now.

The two truckers droned on and on, boring Johnny with their idle prattle. The only subject that halfway interested him was the mention of homemade pie at a local diner. A quick check of his watch told him that he would never have time to scope it out for himself, but there was always the drive home. His stomach growled in anticipation.

"There’s gotta be something more exciting than this going on..."

With one eye on the road in front of him and one eye on the CB, Johnny flipped through the channels, but there was little to no traffic on the radio. With his attentions concentrated on the radio and his driving, he never noticed the large semi closing in from behind.

* BLAST! *

The blast of the air horn resounded through the cab of Johnny’s truck. He jumped with a start and grabbed the wheel with both hands. His heart pounded in his chest and his eyes grew wide.

"What the...!"

A feeling of overwhelming dread washed over him as he looked in his rearview mirror to see a very recognizable truck tailgating him.

"What’s the matter with that guy? Is he NUTS?"

Johnny sped up to distance himself from the big rig, but the truck increased its speed to keep pace with him. A curve loomed ahead, forcing Johnny to reduce his speed. He hoped that the maniacal trucker following him would decelerate as well.

Much to Johnny’s relief, the big truck slowed for the curve. Keeping one eye on his rearview mirror, Johnny adjusted his speed in keeping with the various curves and turns in the road. The trucker backed off slightly through the turns but invariably sped up again, staying on Johnny’s tail.

Johnny looked for a turnoff he could pull onto to let the truck pass by but there was none. The shoulder of the road was too narrow and there were no intersecting roads in sight. Meanwhile, the trucker seemed determined to continue playing his dangerous game.

Johnny eyed the radio mounted under his dash. He grabbed the mic and hesitated for a minute before pressing the button.

"Break 1-9 to the rig following the white pickup."

The seconds ticked by with slow, excruciating unease, but the only sound that transmitted from the CB was a steady crackle. Johnny grit his teeth in anger and jerked the mic closer to his mouth.

"C’mon, Man, I know you can hear me! Back off!"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Think you’re a big man with your new toy, do ya’? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*The voice coming through the small speaker seethed with contempt.

This guy IS nuts! Johnny knew his pickup was no match for a semi-truck, especially when a deranged driver sat behind the wheel of the bigger vehicle. Curbing the urge to fire back with an insult, he opted for a new approach.

"Hey, look," he said in a calmer voice. "I’ll pull over if you wanna pass, all right? Just let me find a safe place to pull off..." He released the button on the mic and held the wheel with both hands as another curve loomed ahead. The big truck kept pace with him around the bend, rattling Johnny’s nerves even further. Once both trucks had cleared the curve, Johnny tried the mic again. "C’mon, Man, I said I’d pull over for you!"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/* Told ya’ I’d see ya’ again...Kid! **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Oh man...this guy is past nuts... Johnny’s map sat inches away from him but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road long enough to check for the next turn off. Okay, time for Plan C...

"So, ya’ got a handle, Big Rig?" Maybe a little civilized conversation would calm the situation down to a sufferable level. "You’re talking to Junior here..."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/* It was nice knowin’ ya’, Junior. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

A deep laugh followed which Johnny wasn’t sure how to interpret. When the truck noticeably backed off, he ventured to hope that the trucker had been playing a sick joke. The two trucks were still too close for comfort, but at least the big rig wasn’t sitting on Johnny’s tailgate any longer and he began to relax. His optimism was premature.

Without warning, the truck sped up again, moving in so close to the back of Johnny’s pickup that its image filled the entire back window. Johnny looked ahead to see a hairpin curve lying ahead. The impending doom he’d felt earlier intensified. There was no way he could make that turn at his present speed.

Johnny slowed for the curve but the trucker didn’t. Instead, the huge semi swerved into the opposite lane as if to pass. The driver was indeed mad, there was no doubt.

"You JERK!" Johnny yelled. His heart pounded in his head as he gripped the wheel tightly with both hands.

The semi-truck was almost even with the smaller pickup when, to Johnny’s horror, the big rig started to move back into his lane. Johnny had no where to go.

Braking as his pickup veered onto the shoulder, he fought to stay on the narrow ledge provided. The loose dirt and gravel proved to be no match. The smaller truck spun out of control, crashing through the brush. It slid down the embankment, flattening smaller trees in its wake, bouncing off larger trees until coming to rest against one too large to yield to a mere vehicle.

Roy was enjoying his day off by spending it with his children. It was Saturday and he had promised Chris a round of catch in the backyard. The sun was hot and he grew thirsty. Just as he was about to suggest to Chris that they take a lemonade break, Joanne called out to him from the kitchen window.

"Roy! Telephone!"

"Perfect timing!" Roy tossed the ball one last time to his son. "You fill a couple of glasses with Mom’s lemonade while I see who’s on the phone, okay?"

"Right, Dad!" Chris agreed as he caught the last ball with ease.

That boy will make a fine ballplayer yet. Roy beamed with a father’s pride. Chris raced his dad to the house, winning easily by design.

"Who is it?" Roy asked Joanne.

"I don’t know, she didn’t say," Joanne answered, "but she sounded concerned."

"She?" Roy asked in surprise.

"That’s what I said...she..." Joanne couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She was not the jealous type by any means, but it still tickled her to see Roy react as if she were. Roy took the receiver from his wife, keeping a watchful eye on her face.

"Hello?...Yes, this is Roy DeSoto...Janice? Yes, I remember you...No, Johnny’s not here. I thought he was giving that CPR class in your hometown...He didn’t?...I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not like him to be a no-show...No, no, I’m sure he was still planning on going...I’ll do some checking around and get back to you. Thanks for calling...Yes, I will...Bye..."

Roy set the receiver back its hook and stared at the phone.

"Something wrong, Roy?" Joanne asked.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "Johnny never showed up for the class he was supposed to give today." Roy checked his watch. It was just after one. The class should have started promptly at 10 A.M.

"Are you sure he was going? From what you told me, he didn’t sound very enthused about it," Joanne reminded him.

"No, if Johnny said he would be, he’d be there." Roy grabbed the phone again and dialed Johnny’s number on the off chance he had decided to stay home. After a dozen rings, he hung up.

"I’m going over to Johnny’s place," Roy told his wife as he grabbed his keys. "Maybe someone saw him leave this morning."

"Dad! What about our lemonade?" Chris called out after his retreating father.

"I’ll have a glass of lemonade with you, Chris." Joanne smiled at her son, though a gnawing feeling ate at her. "Pour one for your sister, too, would you please?" She willed herself into believing that her husband would find John Gage safely tucked away in his own home.

The beauty of the hills was breathtaking. Birds sang overhead as they flitted from tree to tree, breaking the silence of nature’s quiet slumber. The rays of the midday sun filtered through the tree leaves, bespeckling the battered white pickup in an infinite array of shadows. The lone figure in the pickup moaned slightly, oblivious to the splendor around him, aware only of the pain in his leg and the brow of his head.

Johnny moved slightly and moaned again. Blinking to clear his vision, he tried to focus on his surroundings. He wasn’t sure where he was, or where he’d been going, but he knew he was in trouble. He shook his head before he realized the foolishness of that move. He raised his left hand to his forehead and closed his eyes to block out the throbbing pain. When the initial wave of pain passed, he opened his eyes again. It was then that he noticed the blood on his forearm.

"Oh, man..." Johnny uttered quietly. The gash on his arm no longer bled freely, but the pain started to make its presence known.

Instinct and training took over as Johnny looked for a rag to cover the wound. He leaned forward slightly, ignoring the pounding in his head as he reached for the clean rags he knew to be under the driver’s seat. His fingers groped about in a state of blindness until they brushed against the soft material. Grasping the cloth with his fingertips, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes until the pain in his head became bearable enough to deal with the cut on his arm.

Taking a deep breath, he began to wrap the makeshift bandage around his forearm. It was an awkward attempt at best with the use of only one hand. He tucked the loose end of the rag under the bandage and rested his injured arm in his lap as he proceeded to assess his other injuries.

The headache was obvious. Concussion, no doubt...

He squinted through the pain as he straightened his right arm and twisted it around, checking for cuts. Outside of minor scrapes, there were none. "Good," he sighed with relief, "don’t think I could bandage that arm right now anyway..."

Johnny drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Ribs are a little sore...but I don’t think they’re broken." He continued with his verbal assessment. "Well, at least the top half of you is one piece." He glanced at his bandaged arm. "Almost..." A short laugh escaped his lips. "Talkin’ to yourself now...Good thing Chet’s not here. He’d never let you live that down."

Just then, a stab of pain bolted through his head and he closed his eyes in an effort to block it. The spasm rocked his world. It grew hard to focus. He wished for the serenity of unconsciousness, but the pain wouldn’t allow that to happen. Instead, he waited patiently for it to subside, hoping it would. If only Roy were here...

Johnny had no idea how long he sat there with his eyes closed, nor did he care. Finally, the pain whittled down to a dull throb. He looked around to get his bearings, but the surroundings made no sense to his battered brain. The only fact that registered was that he was sitting in his pickup somewhere in the middle of a forest.

Johnny grabbed the handle of the driver’s door with his good hand and attempted to open it. The door wouldn’t budge. It was only then that he noticed the large tree just outside his window.

Great...

The passenger side of the pickup appeared to be unblocked. If he could scoot over to the other door, he’d be home free. Johnny made a move to slide across the bench seat, but a screaming pain stopped the effort. He grabbed his left leg and gasped for breath.

When he dared to look, he quickly realized why he couldn’t move. His leg was pinned between the dash and the damaged wall of the cab. To the best of his ability, he smoothed his hand down the length of his leg. There were no obvious cuts as far as he could tell. As for breaks, he wasn’t as sure. Broken or not, the pressure from the crumpled metal caused its share of pain while effectively holding him prisoner in his own truck.

He slammed the palm of his good hand against the steering wheel in front of him.

"Damn!"

The phone startled Joanne when it rang. After she and the kids had finished their lemonade, she had talked Chris into taking his little sister outside to play. She didn’t know what her husband would discover when he reached Johnny’s apartment, but she didn’t want the kids around when he called.

"Hello?" she answered. The anxiety showed in her voice.

"He wasn’t there, Joanne." Roy’s voice exhibited the same apprehension.

"Did you..."

"I already talked to his landlord," Roy interrupted, anticipating his wife’s question. "He saw Johnny leave in his truck bright and early this morning, right on cue." Roy paused for a brief moment. "I don’t know what to think, Joanne. I called the station on the off chance they called him in for an extra shift at the last minute. I called the other guys. I called the hospital just in case he...I called the highway patrol, too. They haven’t had any reports of any accidents along the route Johnny would have taken. It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air."

"Well, at least you know he hasn’t been in an accident," Joanne assured him. "I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation. You know Johnny...he’s always pulling surprises."

"Yeah, I do know Johnny," Roy agreed with his wife. "I know he wouldn’t have missed a class without giving notice."

"What now?" Joanne asked her husband.

"Well, I’m going to follow the directions that Janice gave me and see if I can’t track him down," Roy said.

"Okay, Honey, keep me posted." Joanne chuckled slightly in spite of the situation.

"What?" Roy wasn’t sure, but it sounded like his wife was laughing.

"I was just thinking...if you find him and there’s nothing wrong, he’s not going to be happy with you," Joanne mused.

"Wouldn’t be the first time."

Roy said good-bye to his wife, smiling as he hung up the payphone. He felt better just having talked to her, but the pit in his stomach told him that this was no laughing matter.

Think. He had to think. However, thinking was no easy accomplishment when there was a rock and roll band playing a full concert behind his eyeballs. As if thinking weren’t a painful enough task, the light hurt his eyes as well. He kept them closed but the throbbing in his head refused to go away.

Somewhere in the back of his brain, snippets of a conversation emerged.

"... if you want my suggestion..."

"Alright...cough it up."

"...thought you’d never ask! Galloping Gage, Smokey...Hose Jockey, and Big Red... Fire Bomb...bombs on a date...Gullible Gage... Perfect Pigeon...my personal favorite... Junior...dozens more!"

Junior? Johnny’s thoughts rolled around in a thick fog.

"Not just a radio...static...white noise...emergencies...CB..."

Radio? Radio...CB radio!

Johnny’s eyes popped open – a regrettable move if ever he’d made one. He squinted to keep the bright light from penetrating and took a quick inventory of the interior of the cab. Shards of broken glass littered the dash and spilled out onto the seat and floor. Instructional booklets lay askew on the floor of the cab, along with everything else that had been lying loose on the seat. He scanned the debris for any signs of a radio.

There it was. The impact had dislodged the CB radio from its bracket and tossed it to the passenger side of the floor. If it worked after its wild ride was anybody’s guess.

Johnny leaned forward as far as his confinement allowed. His leg protested with a jolt of pain as he stretched his body to reach for the black box. He pulled back and took several deep breaths.

"C’mon, Junior," he addressed himself using his handle. "You can do it."

Johnny shifted his right leg so that he could lean sideways a little easier. At the same time, he tried desperately to ignore the pain in his trapped leg from the change of position. He remained focused on one thing – getting that radio into his hands. His efforts came up short when his fingertips simply brushed the corner edge of the box.

Determination to succeed set in. He surveyed the enclosed space for anything that he might be able to use to nudge the radio closer. Unfortunately, everything that he might have been able to use was also well out of reach. Then he noticed his jacket, which lay in a crumpled heap beneath him. He pulled the jacket free and looped the body of it into a makeshift lasso, using the sleeves as his handhold.

Johnny tossed the jacket over the radio in an attempt to snag one of its corners. He pulled on the jacket slowly but met no resistance. Gathering the jacket for a second attempt, he held his breath and flipped the jacket over the radio. Victory was his as the radio budged slightly. He tossed the jacket aside and reached for the only help in sight.

The stubborn instrument remained out of range. He batted at the edges until it turned slightly. Using two fingers, he managed to grasp the outer edges.

The pain in his head increased the longer he remained prone on the seat. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, afraid he would pass out before he accomplished his goal. Keeping his eyes drawn tight, he felt his fingers wrap themselves firmly around the edges of the box. With his prize well in hand, he pulled it protectively to his chest.

"That wasn’t so hard," he praised himself between ragged breaths.

He tucked the radio next to him and slowly pushed himself to sit. The persistent headache refused to be ignored any longer. Johnny laid his head against the door and closed his eyes to rest...with the CB cradled safely in his lap.

As Roy left the city, he kept an eye out for a telephone booth. Thanks to the heavy traffic he’d encountered, it had been nearly an hour since he’d checked in with Joanne and he wasn’t sure what he would find in the way of telephones once he got out onto the open road. He kept his eyes peeled and finally found a blue sign that signaled the presence of a telephone booth. Pulling into the lot, he pulled up next to the booth.

"Joanne?"

Joanne’s heart broke at the expectancy in her husband’s voice. "I’m sorry, Roy. He hasn’t called, and I’ve been calling his place every fifteen minutes. There’s no answer."

Roy sighed and flexed his fist nervously. "All right then...I’m heading up to White Mountain Clinic. Joanne, I don’t know when I’ll find a phone again, but I’ll call back when I get a chance. If Johnny calls..."

"I’ll tell him, Roy," Joanne said. "And if it turns out he was just gallivanting around, I’ll give him a proper scolding."

Roy smiled at the vision that came to mind. "I have no doubt you will, Honey.... Joanne?... I love you..."

"I love you, too, Roy..."

For the countless time that day, Johnny opened his eyes and wondered where he was. Squinting through pained eyes at his limited world, he groaned at the stiffness that settled into every part of his body. He glanced at his watch. Its crystal had shattered in the accident, making it impossible to read the numbers on the dial, if it worked at all...Time was immeasurable.

Johnny rolled his tongue over his lips to moisten the increasing dryness. He closed his eyes and envisioned a tall, cold glass of Joanne’s lemonade. The ice cubes floated freely in the lemony liquid, tinkling against the sides of the sparkling glass – cool, refreshing, and thirst quenching – nonexistent.

Forcing himself back to the harsh reality of his situation, he became aware of an object sitting on his lap. His fingered the CB that was nestled in his lap.

"How did...?"

It didn’t matter how or why the radio was in its present location. It mattered only if it worked. The lettering above the knobs blurred as he fumbled with the controls.

Please work...he pleaded.

He found the power switch and flipped it on. There was nothing but silence.

Over two hours had passed since Roy had started his search and he was growing discouraged. He had hoped that he would find his partner sitting off on the side of the road somewhere – out of gas; a flat tire; engine trouble – Roy would gladly accept any of the above.

The numerous stops along the way to inquire about Johnny’s whereabouts and to check in with Joanne took time – precious time. There had been no news on either count. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if he reached the clinic and... He shook his head to dismiss that thought. Of course he would find Johnny. There was no other option.

Down the road, Roy could see another gas station coming up on his right. The closer he got to the station, the smaller and dingier it appeared. Though he longed to head straight for the clinic at this point, he resisted the urge to keep on driving.

Besides, he reasoned with himself, where there’s a gas station, there’s a phone and I can call Joanne. He glanced at the gas gauge. And gas...might as well fill up while I’m here.

Roy signaled his turn and pulled into the drab little station, immediately regretting the decision when his car bottomed out on a particularly deep rut.

"Great! There goes the undercarriage!" he fumed. "Johnny, for your own sake, this mission had better not be a wild goose chase."

Dodging several more potholes, Roy pulled up to the pump and got out to inspect his car. He knelt down and checked for damage when a strange voice startled him.

"Hallo there, Morey’s the name. What can I do ya’ for?"