The Field Trip

ByWanda Hargrove

Late again, Gage, John thought to himself as he drove through the streets of Carson. Only this time it was different. Chris DeSoto had begged him to go on a school field trip, and John had hesitantly agreed against his better judgement. Now Chris was going to kill him if he missed the bus.

Almost there. The school entrance sign loomed on the next block. John looked away from the sign to find himself about to plow into a blue, late model sedan pulling out into his lane of traffic. He swerved into the other lane to avoid hitting the car and laid on the horn, looking over angrily to see a man who had to be in at least his 70's behind the wheel. "This not a good omen," he muttered.

He turned his truck into the parking lot entrance of the school, and quickly found a parking space near the group of children and adults waiting anxiously. Roy walked over to his partner and grinned.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance."

"I was almost sideswiped by a little old man. He didn't even look when he pulled out!" John cocked an eyebrow at Roy as he heard a choked snort. "Go ahead and laugh--you weren't the one almost killed back there."

As Johnny opened the door to get out Chris came running over, nearly knocking John back inside. The boy was bouncing with excitement.

"Chris," began Roy, who was trying to keep from laughing at his eight-year-old son's antics, "calm down so Johnny can get out of his truck."

John was still slightly miffed at the bad driver, and he slammed the door for emphasis, but he finally smiled down at Chris.

"Let's go join the others."

Chris turned to the milling crowd of children in the school yard and called out, "Jasmine! Jessica! Uncle Johnny's here!"

"Jasmine and Jessica?" John asked Roy blankly.

Roy grinned. "Ted Williams's girls... you know, the Trouble Twins?"

Johnny groaned. "They're on this trip, too?" he whimpered.

The girls skipped up to them. "Hi Johnny," they sang out in unison. "We're still waiting on Mom," Jessica added.

Roy and John looked up as Anne Williams' brown station wagon pulled into the parking lot. She rushed over to the group. Anne smiled as she heard the little snippets of the many different conversations from the children. They were all excited about seeing a Real Western Ghost Town -- in person.

Mr. Michaels, the assistant principal, directed the children to their seats as they boarded from front to back. The bus was so packed that everyone had to sit three to a seat.

As they took their seats next to the emergency exit, Anne Williams looked over at Roy, "Why didn't JoAnne come?"

Roy laughed. "JoAnne figured that Chris and I don't spend enough quality time together. Since this field trip fell on my day off, she decided it was time for me to get out of the house and let her spend some time by herself."

Anne laughed. "Smart woman, that JoAnne!"

The bus's engine roared to life as the driver headed out towards their destination. Soon, they were on the 405 on the way to their destination.

In the very last seat of the bus, Roy and John watched Mr. Michaels once again talking sternly to that wild child, Timmy Henderson. He was making all sorts of rude noises, and kept jabbing his seat mates with his elbows.

The driver pulled the bus off at the Barrington Road exit heading west toward Park Drive. Mr. Michaels had just left his seat and walked down the aisle about five seats away from the driver to have a stern talk with Timmy again. The driver's shout made him turn and look toward the road. "What's that idiot doing?"

Mr. Michaels returned to the front of the bus and stood next to the driver. John noticed he was motioning to the driver, but couldn't hear what was being said. Maybe the driver missed a turn.

The children and parents up in the front began screaming, as the driver tried to avoid the truck that was heading straight for them. Near the rear of the bus, Johnny felt the bus swerve suddenly. John opened his mouth to warn Roy, but before the words could form, the truck slammed into the right side of the bus, rupturing the huge gas tank. The impact and explosion were almost simultaneous.

Off-Duty police officer Vince Howard was following a grey pickup. He'd thought it odd to see a drunk driver so early in the afternoon. Then again, he'd seen a lot of strange things.

Vince grabbed for the mike of his CB, which he kept tuned to the police band. "Dispatch, this is off-duty Officer Vince Howard. I'm following a drunk driving suspect. It's a gray pickup, license plate number Alpha, Bravo, Vista, niner, two four. Please send back-up." He paused quickly to find his location. "I'm at Barrington Avenue, heading East toward Park Drive."

"10-4, Howard," responded the dispatcher.

He'd already seen the driver of the truck almost take out two cars, as his truck drifted over into the other lane. There was a school bus in the on-coming lane. The truck drifted over again. Vince watched in fascinated horror, as the driver of the truck, possibly reaching a last moment of clarity, dove out of the driver's side door. The truck slammed into the school bus almost head on. Vince's eyes widened as both vehicles exploded.

Vince grabbed the mike. This time instead of being calm, cool and collected, he was clearly shaken. "Dispatch, the suspect's truck has impacted with a school bus. Both vehicles are on fire. We need the fire department to be notified as well as ambulances."

"10-4."

Vince slammed his foot on the brakes, and swiftly climbed out the door, intent on first helping the victims on the bus. He caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He could see the driver of the truck slowly rise from where he had landed. They immediately recognized each other. Vince had arrested him a few times already on DUI charges.

"Beckmann!" Vince yelled. The driver turned on his heel to run. Vince threw himself, and tackled him, reminding a few of the gathering on-lookers of a professional football player.

Roy reeled from the impact. Panicked people, trying to reach the safety of the emergency exit, began trampling one another. He finally got his wits about himself, and forced the Emergency Exit door open.

"Anne, you, Jessica and Jasmine are going to be the first off." He helped Anne off first, then handed her both of her daughters. Then he handed Chris off to her.

"This way! To the back of the bus!" Johnny's scream rose above the noise and confusion of the frantic passengers. John turned to Roy. "Get yourself off, I'll hand them down to you."

Why do you always have to be the one to risk your neck all the time?! Roy thought to himself as he jumped off the bus.

John dashed forward and began shoving children and adults alike in that direction, desperate, trying to get them away from the smoke and flames eating the front of the bus while Roy helped them down. The ones with minor scrapes, bruises and burns he turned over to Anne. The more severely injured he could only quickly assess until more help arrived.

Roy heard a commotion, and looked around the side of the bus to see Vince Howard tackling a man. He heard the sound of approaching sirens, and silently prayed it was the fire department. Instead it was three squad cars.

He could hear the three officers talking animatedly to Vince. One slapped a pair of handcuffs on the man. Roy winced since they were placed none too gently. He was placed in the rear of one of the squad cars, and driven from the scene.

The other two officers began working to keep the gathering crowd of on-lookers back. Vince ran over to Roy. "I'll take over here, so you can help the victims."

"Thanks Vince. What happened over there?"

"That was the the driver of the truck, he bailed before the truck hit." Vince shook his head.

"Drunk or drugged?" Roy asked flatly, rage apparent in his eyes.

"Drunk as a skunk. The whole bed is full of beer cans."

Roy's anger flared. He didn't know how many adults and children had already died, but he did know that his partner was risking his own life to save as many as he could. He slammed a fist into the side of the bus, silently wishing that the truck driver was standing in front of him.

At that moment Johnny reappeared at the emergency exit, and handed a whimpering child to Vince. Vince handed him to Roy. "How many more in there?" Roy asked.

Johnny, coughing from the smoke, choked out, "I don't know. The smoke's getting thicker, I can hardly see where I'm going anymore." John tried to suck some fresh air into his lungs. The effort set off another coughing fit.

"One more sweep, Junior. Then get yourself out of there."

John nodded in reply as he took one more deep breath. Then he disappeared from view into the swirling smoke.

John reappeared, carrying another child who wasn't breathing. "Roy!" Vince called, as he took the child from John's outstretched arms. Roy rushed over; taking the child, he began rescue breathing.

Vince looked back at John. The paramedic gasped helplessly for breath as his eyes met Vince's. Without warning, Gage crumpled. Vince reached up and grabbed John under his arms, before his head could impact with anything. Vince pulled him off the bus, the paramedic's limp weight almost bearing him down to the pavement.

Vince glanced over at Roy, who was working desperately to get the child breathing again. Johnny gasped, semi-conscious, locked in his own struggle for breath. Vince left John to get Roy. He didn't need to be a paramedic to tell that John was in a desperate struggle for life. Vince knelt down next to Roy.

"I'll take over here for you, John needs your assistance more."

Roy looked around, thinking Johnny was helping someone else. To his horror, he saw his partner lying, gasping, on the ground. Roy moved aside for Vince to take over for him with the child, then rushed over to John's side, bending over his partner. He placed a hand on John's abdomen -- finding himself wishing for an O2 tank.

"Roy," John gasped weakly. "How's...the...boy?"

"Not good," Roy patted his partner on the shoulder, and grabbed his wrist to get a pulse. John shuddered then went absolutely still under Roy's hands. His hand flew to John's neck, seeking a carotid. There was nothing. Full arrest! He started CPR. Aloud he screamed at his partner, "Damnit! Don't you dare die on me!"

Nothing else existed for Roy at that moment but keeping his partner alive, not even his own son. Chris stood by the side of the road, his face white, his eyes wide and dark with fear. He trembled violently, his world rapidly crumbling around him. He knew that some of his friends had died. He shook his head, trying to stop the echoes of their screams, and Uncle Johnny.... Chris knew what his dad was doing, what that meant. Uncle Johnny was dead too.

Guilt began it's insidious whispering in his mind. If you hadn't begged Uncle Johnny to come, he'd be okay right now. It's all your fault. He's dead and it's all your fault....

Heads began turning toward the sounds of approaching sirens. Vince looked up as the brakes on Squad 36 squealed to mark its stopping. The engine from 36's pulled to a stop, not far from the squad. More sirens were heard in the distance.

Tim Williams jumped out the driver's side, and quickly joined his temporary partner, Craig Brice. They grabbed their equipment, then ran toward the victims.

Jessica and Jasmine both saw their father climb out of the squad. The girls took off running towards him, almost bowling him over. "Jessica? Jasmine? This was your field trip?" Stunned, Tim looked over the scene. He saw his wife, Anne, tending to some crying children.

Tim quickly brought himself back to reality. "Jessica, Jasmine," he started sternly. "Stay over there next to the squad. Don't get in anyone's way." He shook his forefinger at both the girls, "and for goodness sake don't TOUCH anything. Do I make myself clear?" Both girls nodded assent. They had a nickname at 36's, The Trouble Twins.

Brice took over for Vince, while the police officer started the oxygen on the boy. Tim went over to assist Roy. "What happened here?" Tim asked, while patching John onto the heart monitor.

"A fucking drunk driver, that's what!" Roy answered angrily, in between compressions. "Johnny went into full arrest about two minutes ago."

Tim looked up for a moment, as the sound of screeching brakes registered upon his brain. It was Station 110's. Paramedics Wheeler and Kirk quickly joined the others. Wheeler helped Roy and Tim while Kirk began checking the ones Roy had tagged as needing immediate help.

They could hear the sounds of water hissing, as the spray hit the fire from the bus and truck. This was one of the worst disasters any of the men from Station's 36 and 110 had seen.

"V-fib," shouted Tim as he checked the monitor, while handing the paddles over to Wheeler as he charged the monitor to 400 watt/seconds. "Clear," he shouted, as Wheeler placed the paddles onto John's chest, and hit the buttons. John's body jerked upward from the electrical current surging to restart his heart.

"Sinus rhythm," Tim called as Roy let out the breath he never realized he'd been holding. John started to aspirate. Wheeler quickly log rolled him onto his side, and Roy grabbed an endotrachael tube, checking to make sure that his partner's airway was clear. Wheeler rolled John back down as Roy inserted the tube and started manually bagging John.

Tim called Rampart over the bio-phone, as Wheeler set about getting Johnny's vitals. "Blood pressure's low." He looked meaningfully over at Roy. Dr. Morton's disembodied voice asked for an EKG strip. "Rampart, this'll be lead two."

"10-4, 36." Tim waited for Morton to check the strip. "Come on, come on," he hated waiting.

"36, start an IV of D5W TKO. Place the victim on high flow O2, and transport as soon as possible."

"10-4, Rampart," Tim replied, as Wheeler started the IV. They quickly bundled John and the boy into the ambulance. Brice and Wheeler hopped in as Tim helped Kirk with the other victims. The ambulance sped away.

Dixie was standing near her desk as the phone started ringing. She hurried over and picked it up. The tone in her voice was all business. "Rampart Emergency."

"Rampart, this is the LACoFD Dispatch. We are alerting all hospitals in the area that there has been a multi-vehicular accident involving a school bus. There are 10 fatalities at scene."

"10-4, Dispatch. We'll be ready."

She grabbed the phone on the wall near the base station. "Page Drs. Brackett and Early to Emergency."

She spotted two of her nurses in the hall. "Carol, Sue, set up all the treatment rooms."

"Right away," they hurried off to accomplish their assigned tasks.

Dr. Morton overheard her order. "What have we got, Dix?"

Both Drs. Brackett and Early arrived at her desk at the same moment as Morton's question.

"It's a bad one. The Fire Department's dispatch is alerting all hospitals in the area. They have a multi-TA involving a school bus, with 10 fatalities."

The light and buzzer began signaling over the base station. Morton hurried in to answer the call. He stuck his head

out of the door, "Kel, Joe -- we've got two respiratory arrest victims coming in."

JoAnne was wondering what was keeping her men; she wanted to pace the floor. They were definitely late. To keep busy, she decided to start dinner. While she was cooking, she listened to the small television sitting on the counter. She was making Johnny's favorite, since Roy had already invited him.

"This is a special announcement," the disembodied voice stated from the television. "This is coming to you live. A pickup truck has collided with a school bus. From what our people have learned, the bus was carrying a load of school children and parents." The anchor man stopped for a moment to regain his composure. "We still haven't received word on the identities of the dead. Officials are trying to make definite identifications at this time." He paused again. "We have learned that 7 children and 3 adults were killed."

JoAnne's fingers went numb as the pot in her hands clattered to the floor. She never noticed the hot food splashing her legs. Tears started flowing as she watched the pictures flashing across the screen. "NO!" she screamed as she fell to the floor. "Don't let it be them," she cried out in a panicked prayer. "Please, dear God, don't let it be them!"

The ambulance backed into the bay. Dr. Morton was pacing anxiously. The doors flew open on the ambulance, Brice hopped out. He helped bring the first victim out, a small boy about seven or eight years-of-age. His mother flew out of the passenger side of the ambulance, crying hysterically. "Please, help my son," she implored of Morton.

"I'll do everything I can, he replied. He rushed after the gurney carrying the boy. "Get him into Treatment 1. Dix…"

Dixie came up behind the mother, and stopped her from following. "You can stay in the waiting room." She smiled kindly. "Someone will let you know about your son's condition as soon as possible." She escorted the panicky mother away.

Wheeler jumped out of the ambulance and followed the second gurney. Dixie never saw the second occupant. "Treatment 2," she called over her shoulder.

Dr. Brackett met Brice and Wheeler in the hallway. Then he recognized the patient lying on the gurney. "What happened?"

"John was on a field trip with Roy and his son. The bus was hit by a truck," there were tears forming in Brice's eyes. He couldn't get the sight of the bus out of his mind. He couldn't forget hearing the cries of the victims and survivors, especially for their family members and friends who had died. "It was dreadful." He was upset with himself that he was losing his cool demeanor, his way of protecting himself from the suffering of others.

Brackett and Wheeler could tell this was affecting Brice. The good doctor could only begin to imagine what the paramedic had seen. Brackett rushed into the treatment room, leaving both paramedics in the hallway.

The second ambulance backed in. Roy jumped out from the rear of it with Chris in tow. They practically ran down the hallway, where they spotted both paramedics. "Is Johnny here?"

"Yes," Brice answered shakily.

"Who's in there with him?"

"Brackett," answered Tom Wheeler.

"Roy? Chris?," a voice questioned from behind.

Roy turned on his heel, and faced Dixie. He was still angry about the whole situation, and almost lashed out at her as he bit his tongue. "Hi Dixie," he tried to respond pleasantly, but it came out almost as a growl.

Dixie was taken aback. Usually Roy was the calm, cool and collected paramedic. This was not like him at all.

Wheeler answered for him. "They were on the school bus along with Johnny."

Dixie looked around, not seeing John anywhere. "Where is he?" she asked, growing more concerned.

Wheeler looked at her. She could see the worry on his face. "He's in there," he nodded his head toward the door of the indicated treatment room. "He went into full arrest at the scene."

Dixie took Roy's hand sympathetically. "We’ll do everything we can. Why don't you all go wait in the lounge. I'll let you know how he's doing as soon as I can."

The three paramedics thanked her, and headed off down the hall with Chris between Roy and Wheeler. Something wasn't right, but Dixie couldn't put her finger on it. She shrugged it off and quickly found herself busy directing more patients to the other treatment rooms as they came in.

Brackett, was working at high speed. "Carol, " he called to the nurse next to him. "Draw some blood, then have a CBC, creatinine and ABG run on it immediately."

"Right away, Doctor."

He ran a hand through his hair with frustration. Nothing that he was doing was helping in the slightest. "Johnny, don't do this to me!," he practically snarled at the prone paramedic on the table.

Roy directed Chris to sit down at a table with Brice and Wheeler. He had some phone calls to make. The first one was to JoAnne. He listened as the phone ten times before she answered. "JoAnne, it's Roy. Yeah, both Chris and I are fine." He listened to his panicky wife sob in relief.

"Jo -- it WAS our bus that was hit."

He could hear her crying again, in relief. "Honey," he began slowly. "Johnny -- uh -- Johnny was hurt. He was pulling the survivors off the bus, and he went into full arrest at the scene."

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Roy, I'll be there as soon as I can,"she answered.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," she told him, and he heard the click of the phone.

He had one more call to make. He called Captain Stanley's house. He relayed most of the same information he'd just told JoAnne. "Roy, I'll call the guys. We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Thanks, Cap." Roy paused a moment before hanging up the phone. He walked over to the table where his son, Brice and Wheeler were sitting.

Chris stood up, and walked over to the coffee pot sitting on the counter. There were some ceramic coffee mugs sitting next to it. He picked one up and flung it across the room. He felt angry, and guilt-ridden. This is all your fault, the voice in his mind said again.

"Chris," Roy yelled at him, stunned. "Stop it!" Chris ignored his father, and flung another coffee cup, staring at it as it shattered against the wall.

Roy rushed over, and grabbed his son by the shoulders. He knelt down and gently shook him, getting Chris's undivided attention. "Why did you break those cups?"

Chris screamed at his father. "I killed Uncle Johnny! It's all my fault that he's dead!"

"Chris," Roy began hesitantly. "Johnny is not dead. None of this is your fault."

Chris began crying for the first time. Roy picked him up, hugging him tightly, and walked over to the couch. Roy's own tears, that he had been holding back, started falling as he rocked his son. He never had any idea that Chris had felt the accident was his fault. Roy had been so wrapped up in own feelings of guilt and rage, he had never thought that his son would be feeling so guilty.

Hank Stanley was the first to arrive at Rampart. He hurried down the hallway, looking for anyone who could tell him the condition of his fallen paramedic. He searched the faces he saw anxiously. He was met by Dixie McCall.

"Captain Stanley," she called to him as a couple of nurses rushed past. "Roy and the others are waiting in the lounge. I'll let you know something, as soon as I can."

He couldn't believe the pandemonium; nurses and orderlies were rushing everywhere. Some were bringing in new victims, others were transporting patients who had been admitted to their rooms.

The press jammed the waiting room. They wanted to know names. Hank knew they were an odd lot, but he couldn't see how broadcasting, or writing about other people's misery was a good thing. To him they looked like a flock of vultures, hovering waiting for the next death to occur.

He entered the lounge. Roy held a sleeping Chris. Hank looked on them sympathetically. How are they going to deal with tragedy? Seven of Chris's friends are in the morgue. His eyes began to mist over as he thought of his own daughters.

"How's he doing?" he nodded towards Chris.

Roy replied softly, not wanting to wake his son. "As well as can be expected, I guess. I just hope there aren’t any lasting scars from this."

Hank agreed silently, praying that his presence would help ease the tension he felt in the room.

Chet, Marco and Mike entered. They noticed Brice and Wheeler’s haggard faces, the crestfallen look on Roy's face, and his red rimmed eyes.

"Is Johnny...?" Chet was the first to speak.

Brice looked over at the trio. "No."

"We still haven't heard anything, " Wheeler added.

"All we can is sit tight, and wait," Hank replied.

Chet began pacing. "What could be taking so long?"

Dixie found a moment to check on John's condition. She had already seen the portable x-ray go in, and Carol return with the results. She'd been kept busy with frightened family members, and comforting others who had lost members of their families. Now she needed to find out about one of her own.

She was determined that nothing would deter her. As she crossed the hall, she was stopped by JoAnne.

"How's Johnny?"

"I was just on my way to find out," she patted JoAnne's hand kindly. "Could you wait here a moment while I check?"

"I'll wait."

Dixie entered the treatment room. She could see John lying on the table. He looks so pale. She glanced toward the other side of the room, where Brackett was studying John's chest x-ray. Standing next to him was Dr. MacDonald, from the Respiratory Department. "What's your opinion, Mack?"

"Are you sure it was some type of cyanide poisoning?" Mack's eyebrow rose in disbelief.

"That's what the blood tests show -- it wouldn't be unheard of, considering the materials that are used to make the seats on school buses."

Mack shook his head. "And we trustingly put our children on those cyanide canisters 180 days a year."

Brackett grimaced in agreement. "Gage has been responding well to treatment, but now he's slipped into a coma." The doctor ran a hand through his hair as he looked again at the x-rays. "He's been giving me a real run for my money."

"That sounds like Gage," Mack smiled. "Let's get him up to ICU. He's lucky; I don't think he'll have any permanent lung damage."

"Exactly what I was thinking, Mack. Thanks for coming down," he smiled as he shook the older man's hand.

"Kel," Dix asked from behind. "Is Johnny really going to be okay?" she asked hopefully.

Brackett smiled at her, "I think he will be."

"What about the coma?"

"It's a side effect of the cyanide poisioning. He should be out of it in a few days."

"That's great," she smiled with relief. "I guess you'll be heading down to the lounge. There's nine worried firemen down there, along with a little boy who'd like to know."

"That's where I was getting ready to go next." He turned to Carol, "Send Johnny up to ICU to be admitted."

"Right away, Doctor."

He greeted JoAnne as he walked out of the treatment room. Then he frowned at something that caught his eye. "JoAnne, what happened to your legs?"

She realized for the first time that she had hurt herself. "I think I dropped a pot with hot food in it." She couldn't really remember, although she did remember calling Heather's friend's house, to see if she could spend the night. She looked up at Brackett dumbfounded.

"Dix, is there a treatment room open?"

"Three is."

"JoAnne, I'm going to have Dixie take you to three." He left them, walking down the hall. He stopped for a moment by the staff lounge door. He was tired, almost to the point of exhaustion. Finally he put on what he hoped was his most encouraging look, and entered the room.

Nine pairs of eyes turned his way. Brackett began reluctantly, "Well he's slipped into a coma." He noticed the shocked faces, he paused. "This is a side effect of the cyanide poisioning, but he is responding to treatment. We're sending him to the ICU."

"When can we go see him?" Marco asked.

Brackett rubbed his eyes, then looked again at the nine faces staring back at him. "After we get him settled in upstairs. I want to keep his visitors to a minimum." He looked meaningfully at each and every person in the lounge. "I know you guys are like a family, but I do need you to adhere to the ICU rules. Only two visitors at a time."

"I'll make it an order," Captain Stanley looked at his men. He knew if he didn't, these twits would bend hospital rules.

"Roy, I'd like to talk to you in private." Captain Stanley gently took Chris from his father, being careful not to disturb the sleeping child. Roy followed Brackett out of the lounge. "Roy, JoAnne's in Treatment Room 3."

Roy became wide-eyed with fear and worry. "She wasn't in an accident, was she?"

Brackett held up his hands in a placating gesture. "She's got some minor burns on her legs; she thinks she did it when she dropped a pot full of hot food and it splashed."

"Can I go see her?" Roy wanted to be with his wife.

Brackett nodded, and Roy left him so fast, the doctor thought he was standing still.

Roy rushed into the treatment room, and looked at his wife's legs. They were mostly first degree burns, with a few second degree areas. "Honey?" he asked.

She smiled at him as she sat on the examination table. "They hurt some, but the patient will live," she winked.

He reached out to her, she leaned into his chest. "How's Chris?" she asked. She felt his muscles tense. How do I tell her that the whole time I was helping my partner, I never once thought about our son? Guilt sat on his heart like a stone.

She looked searching into his face, seeing the guilt he felt in his eyes. She pushed away from him, her face becoming dark. "Roy! How is Chris?!" she demanded as she stressed each syllable.

He finally looked into her face, the tears starting to form again. "Physically, he's fine," he stopped and tried to gather his thoughts and composure. "Mentally -- I just don't know. He seen more than a child his age should ever see. He's also blaming himself for Johnny getting hurt."

Her tears soon joined Roy's as they held each other, and cried for their son.

Mike Stoker noticed JoAnne enter the lounge. He could see she was walking a bit stiffly, so he helped ease her to the couch next to the Cap. She retrieved her sleeping son. The other men from Station 51 noticed the treated burns on her legs, and they demanded to know how it happened. "This is nothing," she smiled to them.

"Where's Roy?" asked Captain Stanley.

"He's up in ICU with Johnny." Chris awoke with a start at the mention of Johnny's name. "How's my boy?"

He didn't answer, as he looked around the room seeing all of his father's friends. He saw the worry etched on their faces, and he felt ashamed. The insidious voice of guilt crept into his head again. This is all your fault. See what you've done? They're all worried and it's all your fault. He pulled away from his mother, sobbing. "It's all my fault! It's all my fault!"

Chet squatted down next to Chris. He deliberately placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Chris, none of this is your fault," he stated matter-of-factly. "Johnny was doing his job," Chet paused for a moment to gather his own thoughts. He hated knowing that Chris felt responsible for something that was beyond his control. I hope they put that SOB away for life!

"This is the fault of a jerk who got behind the wheel to drive after he'd been drinking," Chet explained. "I lost a very good friend about a year ago to a drunk driver." He looked searchingly into Chris's eyes. "Do you understand that none of this is your fault?"

Chris nodded.

Roy was dreading this day as he pulled the family station wagon into the church parking lot. He could see the sheer terror in his son's eyes as they climbed out. "Chris, we need to do this.... You need to do this...."

Chris reluctantly climbed out of the car, joining his parents.

As they reached the steps, Chet joined them silently. As they entered the church, his eyes began to mist over. Just seeing the eight small caskets was tearing at his heart.

As the pastor began speaking, complete silence fell over the gathering for the joint funeral. As each child's name was spoken, quiet sobs of agony could be heard from each parent's throat.

Chris cried for his friends, and particularly for Mr. Michaels. He had been such a terrific person. He would truly miss him. Chet reached and squeezed his shoulder to remind the distraught boy that he was not alone.

The service coming to a close, the pastor asked that one more prayer be said. The recipient was John Gage. The organist began playing ‘Amazing Grace’.

Everyone slowly filled past the caskets. A woman stopped at one. "Timmy," she screamed out as she collapsed into grief stricken tears. As Roy passed he noticed the face of the boy, Timmy Henderson. He was the last child John had pulled from the bus. He didn't make it, Roy thought as he wiped a tear from his eyes.

Chet received Roy's permission to take Chris out for the afternoon, but Chet was being mysterious about the destination. They walked into Rampart, and met Dixie at a pre-arranged spot.

"Chris, I'm going to sneak you into ICU. Now, I know that you’re going to be scared by what you see, but everything is all right, okay?" she asked.

"Okay," Chris replied glumly.

They quietly entered John's room, and just as Dixie had said she could see that sight of the equipment was scaring the boy. "If you'd like, you can talk to him. He can hear you," Dixie smiled kindly.

Chris approached the bed apprehensively, and placed his hand on John's. "Uncle Johnny," he started timidly. "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault." The words began tumbling out in a rush. "If I hadn't begged you to go on that stupid field trip, you wouldn't be here now." The tears he had thought wouldn't come anymore started again.

Chris felt a movement under his hand, and felt John's fingers clasp his. He looked over at Dixie, with a huge grin plastered on his tear stained face. "He's going to be okay!"

Roy sat in a chair next to John's bed. This had been a hell of a week, Roy mused. He never, ever, wanted to go through another one like this for as long as he lived.

Roy smiled. Chris was finally coming to terms about the accident. Roy had at first been furious when he found out what Dixie and Chet had been up to. But, he had to admit, when Johnny had grabbed his son's hand, now that had been the best medicine.

Roy snorted. Who would've thought that Chet would be such a great influence on Chris. As long as the phantom stays at the station. I don't need to worry about two practical jokers.

Roy noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to see Johnny looking towards him, a look of confusion on his face.

Nurse Jacobs, who was taking John's vitals, saw the confusion also. She patted the dark-haired paramedic on the hand. "It's all right Mr. Gage. You've been in a coma for a few days."

"How?" his voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you remember being on the field trip?"

The memories began flooding back, threatening to overwhelm him. "Why?" was all John could manage. He groaned and looked over toward the nurse while placing his hand on his forehead.

"Do you have a headache?"

He nodded slightly.

"I'll go tell the doctor," she replied as she walked out of the room.

Roy began telling him about the drunk driver. Anger flashed in his eyes as he mentioned that the man had been arrested before on DUI charges.

"Boy?"

Roy swallowed hard as he heard the mother's anguished cries in his head once more. "He didn't make it."

Johnny closed his eyes as a look of guilt spread over his face. Roy could tell what he was thinking. "I talked to Dr. Morton about him last night, after the funeral. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done. He was just too far gone."

Nurse Jacobs re-entered the room, holding a syringe. She injected into the medication into John's IV line. "This will make you feel much better," she patted his shoulder. John felt the medication take effect immediately. He felt groggy, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"It's good to have you back in the land of the living," Roy commented as he sat back down into the chair.

"It's... good... to be... back," John replied hoarsely as he drifted off to sleep.

Author's note: I want to first thank the beta readers! Thanks for pushing and helping me along the way! I almost scrapped this. :-)

The song Amazing Grace was my Grandmother's favorite Hymn.

The ICU scene with Chris and Dixie was based on a real event. My sister snuck her 6 or 7 year old daughter into CCU to see our Grandmother.