Hank Stanley sat at the kitchen table at Station 51, reading the morning newspaper. He and his crew of five men were closing in on the final hour of their current twenty-four hour shift, a shift that had left them all in need of a break. He and the guys had responded to a structure fire involving enormous loss of life during the night and were each doing what they had to to work through their thoughts and emotions afterward.

Mike Stoker and John Gage were at the sink cleaning the dishes from breakfast, much of the food having been tossed since no one was really very hungry anyway. The others sat at the table chatting about their upcoming day off, simple conversation a way of coping.

While the others had their *own* plans for the day off, earlier Marco and Johnny decided they’d go hiking together.  
 
Johnny turned from the sink and spoke to Marco, who was at the table beside the captain.

“I think I’ll bring my camera along.”

“Sounds great.”

“Where you guys heading?” Chet asked.

“Topanga Canyon,” Johnny offered.

“Topanga?” Roy asked.

“Yep,” Marco responded.

Hank joined the conversation as he folded the paper and laid it on the table. “Looks like you guys’ll have a nice day for it. The forecast says it’s supposed to be sixty-three degrees today.”

“Good deal!”

The excitement in his voice was the first indication Gage was ready to move on from last night’s call.  The others knew he was a natural outdoorsman, mostly enjoying time in the nearby hills, either camping or hiking. It was probably exactly what he needed and he knew it.

With he and Marco making the trip together for their brief time off  before reporting for duty again the following day, it was likely both would get the break they needed.

“Anyone want another coffee?” Mike asked while standing with the pot in his right hand, his grip on the handle.

“Sure,” Hank nodded.

As Mike poured the brown liquid into his superior’s mug, two of the next shift’s fire fighters ambled into the room. When Mike replaced the glass carafe to the Bunn-o-matic coffee machine, one of the men began to prepare another pot for his shiftmates, who were sure to be following them in soon. The other man took a seat beside Chet.

“Morning.”

Various morning greetings were returned and soon the conversation turned towards the Dodgers’ chances of winning a pennant this coming ball season. There was no need to talk about the fire that had claimed a young family.

E!E!E!E!

Once he’d arrived home after work, Marco did as much as he could to stay busy. Keeping his mind on menial tasks seemed to benefit him more.  He did a couple of loads of laundry and cleaned his bathroom, before making himself a pasta salad for lunch. The fireman figured the carbohydrates would do him well for his planned day with Johnny on the hike.

At the moment he stood outside of his apartment complex beside his vehicle, with his backpack at his side, arms crossed over his chest, as he waited for Johnny to arrive for their ride up to the canyon. Soon he heard the sound of a car’s approach and picked up his bag. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the bright sun, he looked to see if it was Johnny’s Land Rover. Unfortunately it wasn’t.

Marco replaced his pack back to his feet and watched as a family of five scrambled out of the now parked car. A smile spread across his face as he watched a young mother and father try to manipulate grocery bags out of the station wagon’s back. It was good to see a family enjoying time with one another. Children with their parents. He hoped their time together would last many years, unlike the victims from the previous night. A wave of sadness washed over him as he once again recalled the horrific tragedy while he continued to observe the family.

Two boys who appeared to be twins began to roughhouse and the young girl who was slightly older began to skip in a circle, her tongue sneaking out of the corner of her mouth.

Finally, with their bags firmly in their arms, the parents and their noisy young troup started toward the complex and soon disappeared into the building.

After waiting for another fifteen minutes, and watching a myriad of different people come and go, Marco spotted Johnny’s white vehicle approaching his building. He walked over to it when Johnny pulled up nearby and climbed inside.

“Sorry, Marco, got caught in traffic.”

“No problem. You know, it’s going to be so great to get out and hike,” Marco said as he fished his sunglasses out of his backpack and placed them on his face.

“Yeah, *I’m* sure lookin’ forward to it,” Johnny responded. “Whataya say we blow this popsicle stand?”

Marco grinned at his friend’s common phrase. “I say, it’s about time.”

A short forty-five minutes later, Johnny pulled his Land Rover into a parking lot within Topanga Canyon and soon the two men were standing in front of a wooden map displaying the trails, trying to figure out which they should take. While Marco was in great shape, Johnny knew his friend wasn’t a regular hiker and decided he could probably manage a medium trail with a steady incline. Finally he tapped the wooden structure saying, “This one okay?”

“Yeah, looks good.”

Without a backward glance, the two fire fighters began their journey, one they hoped would measure up to their expectations.

E!E!E!E!

Twelve-year-old Corey Regland was a kid on a mission. His brother Brian would be coming home from college soon, and he still hadn't bagged his buck. Once Brian was back, Corey knew his days of 'sneaking out of the house with big brother's crossbow' would be over.

Since last September, when he'd first started stealing the crossbow, Corey had become a pretty dang deadly marksman! The boy had managed to kill over three dozen squirrels, four rock badgers, and eighteen rabbits. He would have had an even bigger kill tally, if he could've gotten his hands on some actual 'hunting' arrows. But Brian kept his razor sharp, multi-bladed broadheads locked up in their father's gun cabinet.

Corey had saved his birthday money and tried to buy some broadheads. But the guy at the local sporting goods store refused to sell him any—without 'parental consent'. Huh! Like 'that' was ever gonna happen! His folks would have his hide, if they ever knew what he was doing on his weekend hikes up into the canyon.

The kid spotted a fresh deer track, and quickened his pace.

E!E!E!E!

The two off-duty LA County fire fighters were about an hour into their hike. They'd been inhaling a lot of fantastically fresh air and enjoying some breathtaking scenery.

Gage had managed to get some great panoramic shots with his wide-angle lens.

Speaking of which...

John stopped on the narrow path to change his camera lens. He pulled a pair of granola bars from his backpack and offered one to his friend.

"Thanks!" Lopez told him and parked his posterior on an outcropping of rock to peel the plastic wrapper back from his 'high energy' snack. "What a glorious day!" he exclaimed and eagerly began munching away. "Where you going?" Marco inquired, as Johnny suddenly stepped off the trail and into the brush. "To answer the call of Nature?"

"I just saw a deer," his hiking companion called back over his shoulder in a hushed voice. "I'm gonna go see if I can get a close-up shot of it..." the photographer added and pointed to his camera's powerful zoom lens.

 

E!E!E!E!

John had the majestic stag in the center of his view screen...and was in the process of squeezing his camera's shutter—when a twig snapped.

The buck bolted and a small boy—carrying a very big crossbow—appeared.

In that same instant, John felt a sharp, searing pain rip into his right side. He caught his breath, staggered back a step or two, and then glanced, rather dazedly, down.

‘Da-amn!’

The notched end of an arrow shaft was sticking out of his lower right ribcage. When he looked back up, the boy with the crossbow...was gone.

Gage ducked his head and draped his camera's carrying strap around his neck. His freed right hand slowly reached behind his back. He couldn't feel anything protruding from his shirt.

Crossbows are incredibly powerful and he'd just been hit at pretty close range. But, amazingly, the arrow hadn't passed clean through him. Judging by the fire that was now burning in them, the paramedic figured his 'ribs' might've had something to do with that. The arrow had obviously become lodged between a couple of them.

At long last, his traumatized body resumed breathing.

"Ahh-uhh!" an involuntary cry, as sharp as the searing pain produced by that first gasped breath, escaped from him and he staggered back a few more steps.

‘Ga-age...you better get outta here,’ the fire fighter warned himself.

 

E!E!E!E!

Johnny came stumbling out of the bushes and back onto the trail.

Marco spotted the arrow protruding from his pal’s right side and, for a brief moment, he thought—er, hoped—that Johnny had just borrowed Chet’s 'Steve Martin arrow-through-the-head' prop and was playing a 'gag' on him. But one look at the pained expression on his friend’s pallid face was all it took to convince him that this was no 'joke'.

"¡Madre de Dios! What the hell happened?" he wondered, and dashed over to render his assistance.

"A...kid...just shot me...with a...crossbow," the paramedic rather breathlessly replied, through teeth clenched tightly in pain.

Marco was stunned beyond belief. It wasn't Bow Season! And, even if it was, the entire area surrounding the hiking trails was 'off limits' to hunting. "What can I do for you?" he asked and placed a steadying hand on each of his shaken friend's shoulders.

"See if you...can...pull it out."

"You *sure* that's a good idea?"

John nodded. "It's just a...target arrow...If it was...a broadhead...I'd already be...dead."

Marco ushered his hurting pal over to the rock outcropping and sat him down. He reluctantly latched onto the arrow's shaft and began to pull.

"Ahhh-uhhh!" Gage cried out again and nearly passed out from the pain.

Marco's hands released the arrow and returned to John's hunched over shoulders. "It's no use. It's lodged in there too tight. How can you tell it's a 'target' arrow?" he asked, in an attempt to get Gage's mind on something other than his agony.

The hunched over and hurting paramedic gradually regained some semblance of composure. "By...the way the...cock fletch...is lined up...to the...nock."

‘Ask a stupid question...’ Marco thought, as John's answer went right over his head.

"Marco?"

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"We gotta get me...back to my...car."

"Can you walk?" Marco felt stupid asking that question, as well. His hurting friend looked like he could barely stand.

But Johnny nodded.

So Marco assisted the paramedic up onto his unsteady feet...and the two of them started heading back down the trail they'd just hiked up.

E!E!E!E!

Corey Regland finally stopped running and turned around to look in the direction he’d come from. His legs felt like rubber and he was scratched here and there on the arms from his swift, though slightly hampered due to the crossbow, retreat through the brush and bushes. The youth breathed hard as he fought back tears. Not so much for what he’d accidentally done, but more for what he figured was going to happen to him if anyone found out.

‘I’m gonna go ta jail!’

The boy was scared. Trembling, he squeezed his eyes shut tight in an effort to wish it all away. But the only result was an image of the man’s face when he’d realized what’d hit him.

Corey was sure he was dead now. And the more he thought about it, the more he needed to shirk the blame. Anything was easier for the child than accepting the fact *he’d* killed someone.            

“Stupid stick! And stupid deer!”

If the twig hadn’t been where he’d stepped and the deer hadn’t taken off so darn fast, he would never have hit the wrong target. He wouldn’t *be* in this situation at all. Now how could he possibly get out of it?

There was one way, at least in *his* mind.

If he could just sneak his brother’s crossbow back into the house as easily as he had other times, and act as if nothing happened. . .

E!E!E!E!

Knowing Johnny wasn’t up for conversation anyway, Marco didn’t talk much, other than to ask his friend if he was still doing ‘okay’. Although that hardly was the word that applied. The mustached man was on Johnny’s left side as he helped support the unsteady paramedic along the path. Marco carried both their backpacks slung over his left shoulder, each by one strap.

A gasp from the hapless Gage sent renewed worry through his aide. They stopped their journey that had remained slower than desired due to the object in the medic’s side and his lack of ability to hustle.

“I’m. . .I’m okay. . .just. . .hurts. . .ta breathe.” Johnny cracked a forced grin. “Guess that’s. . .one of those. . .things we . . .can’t avoid. . .huh?”

But Marco knew Johnny too well. The attempt at light humor was likely a mask of Gage’s own deep concern. And surely one sign of just how much pain he was in. The fact he was breaking out in a sweat going at what felt like a snail’s pace was an indication of that.

Marco found himself wishing Roy was there. At least having a healthy paramedic on hand would be a little more reassuring, even if Roy couldn’t do much more than *him*. But instead he’d just have to rely on whatever John said.

‘I hope he doesn’t try to hide *too* much.’

E!E!E!E!

Johnny narrowed his eyes to slits, his right side still agonizing as he and Marco remained stationary another moment. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it all the way to the Land Rover. It was going to take sheer determination, and a lot more breaks along the way.

Every step, no matter how carefully made, caused the arrow to move along with the slight motion of his body. And he was constantly reminded of that by the resulting seering pain.

He didn’t want to look at the arrow in his side again. But he had to. After all, *he* was the paramedic. A wave of nausea washed over him when he did.

He noticed Marco looking rather pale himself. . .for Marco.

“Hey. . .are. . .are *you*. . .okay. . .man?”

He nodded. “I’m not the one with an arrow in my side.”

“Good point. . .no pun. . .intended.”

Johnny knew they were going to have to press on soon despite shock setting in. He would’ve heaved a sigh, except the resulting pain probably would have him down on the ground in a heartbeat.

“Can you keep going?” Marco wondered.

The injured man nodded, and hoped he was right.

In the meantime, Marco figured if Johnny could hide *his* real concerns, it was only fair he not let on that he was having to consciously keep his worry in check as well.

E!E!E!E!

A short time later, the two men took another break in their trek back to where the Rover was parked. Gage was still sweating and appeared to be having trouble catching his breath as he struggled to make it down the trail. His color had become decidedly unhealthy.

“I know you’re going to get tired of hearing this, but how are you doing?” Marco tried to keep the worry out of his voice and from showing on his face.

John shook his head slightly. “I’m doing…fine Marco. Or as … well as … one can be …given the …circum …stances.” He gave a tired grin which did little to ease the other firefighter’s worry. “Could use a …drink though.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Marco quipped, “I assume you mean water, right?” He searched both backpacks and located the canteens. “Sorry amigo, all we have is water. We’re fresh out of everything else.”

“Water will be …great. Although …something else …would take the …edge off.” He tried to laugh but the pain flared in intensity leaving him regretting the action.

Marco’s worry increased. “John?” He was at the injured man’s side immediately.

“Gotta remember … NOT …to do that …again. At least …not any time …soon.”

Marco was not an experienced hiker but he knew enough to know that they needed to get back to the vehicle as soon as possible. He was thankful that they still had plenty of daylight left and that they had not been hiking for much more than an hour. It was going to take some time to get back but at least they wouldn’t have to deal with nightfall on the trail.

Not wanting to rush his friend Marco gave him a few more minutes before speaking up. “Whenever you’re ready, my friend.” He looked at Johnny who was trying to summon the strength to get back up.

Gage sighed and attempted to stand. The arrow made that nearly impossible without help.

Marco assisted him to his feet as gently as he could.

“Thanks,” he replied through clenched teeth. Once he regained his composure and his breathing steadied, the two men set off down the trail towards civilization.

E!E!E!E!

Corey continued on toward his home in the canyon. He didn’t have much further to go, when he heard a noise like a twig snapped. He froze, his heart pounding. Breaking into a sweat, he quickly turned to see what had caused the sound. His mind raced. Had someone seen him? Had he been followed? Panic began to set in as his eyes frantically searched for the intruder.

“STUPID SQUIRREL!” he yelled at the small grey mammal as he wiped his eyes. “Stupid squirrel,” he repeated a little softer. He stooped and picked up a rock. Seconds later the rock landed near the animal who chattered at him before wandering off at a slow and steady pace.

The boy was angry now. He had almost convinced himself he would get out of this without getting caught when the snapping sound brought it all back to him. He sat down on a large rock and rested his head in his hands. His thoughts raced from the deer to the stick to the man to the arrow. He had to pull himself together. If he got caught… ‘No! I can’t get caught. I won’t!’  Steeled with new determination, he hefted the crossbow and continued on.

E!E!E!E!

John Gage had a ridiculously high threshold for pain. But there was a limit to how much even he could endure.

Every rapid, shallow respiration and every jarring, stumbling step was causing the metal tip of that damn arrow to grate against his ribs.

The pain was both constant and excruciating.

About a mile back—right after his last bout of barfing—the continuous agony had become too intense for him to bear. Bones had an unbelievable amount of nerve endings in them, and every stinking one of them was constantly bombarding his brain’s pain-receptors with powerful signals. His brain’s neurotransmitters were being completely overwhelmed.

John’s vision started to tunnel out on him. He shook his dizzy head, in an attempt to clear it. No good! His increasingly wobbly legs began to buckle.

Marco braced himself, as his injured friend’s weight suddenly shifted. Too late! He was pulled completely off balance and they both went down—hard!

“Ahhh-uhhh!” Gage cried in agony, as his knees hit the packed earth of the path they were on, and the arrow was jarred.

Marco saw that the feathered end of the arrow was on a collision course with the trail and tried to pull his collapsing companion back up. Again, too late!

At the last possible moment, the woozy paramedic put his right hand out to catch himself.

Lopez exhaled an audible sigh of relief, as his falling friend’s arm fortunately turned out to be a fraction of an inch longer than the arrow’s shaft. But that had been close! If that arrow had hit the ground, it could’ve been impaled even further into Gage’s chest, possibly puncturing the paramedic’s lung, or lacerating his liver. Yessir! That had been too damn close! He would have to take steps to see to it that it wouldn’t happen again. He carefully eased his hurting buddy the rest of the way down, until he was lying on his back. He studied Johnny’s pallid face for a few moments. Then he slipped their backpacks’ straps from his left shoulder, stacked the objects on top of one another and placed them under his friend’s feet. “I remember what you and Roy said,” he explained, upon noting the paramedic’s puzzled expression. “Face red—raise the head. Face pale—raise the tail.”

John gave his fellow firefighter a duly impressed look and even tried to flash him a smile. This time, he was ‘somewhat’ successful. The smile faded fast. “Marco…I can’t…I can’t take it…anymore…Hurts…too much…Gotta get this…damn thing…outta me…Maybe…if you were to…step…on my ribcage…right below…the arrow…it might…spread my ribs…enough…for you…to be able to…pull it out.” He stopped speaking, swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. “I think…I need…another…drink.”

Marco couldn’t even begin to imagine how much his friend had to be hurting. He’d banged his right shin at a fire two weeks back and it was ‘still’ killing him. But he couldn’t allow his concern to override his better judgment—anymore. “No-o!” the fireman flat out refused.

The pained paramedic gazed up at him, looking completely confused. “No-o…what?”

“No-o! I’m not going to ‘stand on your ribcage and pull the arrow out’! I’ve been watching you and Roy work for a few years, now. In all that time, I have never seen you guys ever try to take an impaled object out of one of your patients—not even once! And I’m not going to give you anymore water, either! You’re just going to throw up again.” Marco stopped speaking and stared anxiously down at his pale, pained companion. “I think you’re going into shock…”

Gage was in shock, all right! He was shocked by his friend’s adamant refusal to do as he’d asked. He lay there for quite a long quiet while—assessing the ‘situation’. He held his trembling hands up in front of his pale face and squeezed the tip of his left index finger—hard. He released the fingertip and counted the seconds it took for the color under the nail to return. Just under two. Capillary refill was excellent. He wasn’t bleeding ou—. That’s when it finally hit him. Prolonged exposure to severe pain could cause a person’s BP to drop, mimicking hypovolemic shock.

The paramedic immediately ran a quick IPS on himself. Nausea and vomiting. One of the first things to shut down, when a victim is going into shock, is the digestive system. Severe thirst. His skin was pale, cool and dry. Which meant that his bombarded brain was rerouting his blood to his vital organs. His pulse was 120 and his respiration rate was 26. His extremities were weak and he was becoming increasingly restless and apprehensive. Shit! Marco was right on the money! He was displaying every damn sign and symptom of shock!

Gage suddenly realized that Lopez was right in his stubborn refusal to carry out his requests, too.

There is a tiny little artery that runs along the bottom edge of each rib—the costal artery. If it had been nicked, and the arrow tip was keeping pressure on it, once it was removed, he could bleed out in less than 45 minutes! In other words, if Marco had managed to pull the arrow out—the first time he’d asked him to remove it—and the costal artery had been nicked, he would probably be ‘circling the drain’ right about now!

Also, NPO is the standing order for all victims of traumatic injury. The abbreviation stands for Nil Per Os. Which is just a fancy Latin way of saying—nothing through the mouth.

Man! How could he possibly have screwed up his own treatment so badly? Du-uh…Failure to think clearly was also a ‘classic’ symptom of shock. Lying there, with his legs elevated, the increased blood flow to his oxygen deprived brain allowed the paramedic to finally realize what poor decisions he had been making concerning his own ‘proper’ medical care.

Gage gazed up at his wise companion with a look that was equal parts gratitude and admiration. “You’re…right…Marco…You’re…absolutely…right!” His glassy eyes began glancing furtively around. “We…gotta get me…to an…ER,” he further realized and struggled up onto his elbows.

Lopez latched onto his suddenly antsy associate and gently eased him back down onto the ground. “Agreed! But we’re not going anywhere, until we cut the shaft of that arrow off shorter.” He placed his friend’s hands on the base of the arrow. “Hold onto it—tight!” he advised and pulled a knife from the right front pocket of his jeans. “I’m going to notch it about six inches up and then see if I can snap it off…”

“Better give me…a branch…or somethin’…to bite on…first,” the paramedic breathlessly requested. “If I…clench my jaws…any tighter…my teeth…are gonna…break…”

Marco broke a four-inch piece of one-inch diameter dead branch off of a nearby tree and obligingly stuck it between his companion’s tightly clenched teeth. He reluctantly opened his knife up and then even more reluctantly began to carve out a notch in the slender wooden shaft that was embedded in his friend’s right ribcage.

“Ahhh-uhhh!” John cried out involuntarily and closed his eyes every bit as tightly as he was clenching his jaws.

Lopez dropped his knife and got a firm grip on the arrow, right above the notch he’d just made. “Hold it very still!” he re-advised.

Gage gripped the arrow’s shaft until his knuckles turned white.

Marco hesitated a moment or two and then snapped the arrow off at the notch.

“Ahhh-uhhh!” the paramedic cried out, for a third time. He spit the small block of wood from his mouth and then lay there, moaning in pain, and panting.

Lopez stared disbelievingly down at the deep teeth marks in the dead branch and then at the broken arrow shaft in his hands. “How could this possibly have happened?” he wondered, in an attempt to distract John from his intense agony.

“We…we were…both shooting…the same deer,” his buddy breathlessly began. “Only…I was…using a…camera…and he-e…was using a…crossbow…The kid…must a’…stepped on a…stick…cuz the deer…spooked…and we…ended up…shooting…each other…instead.”

Marco winced, as his friend’s fourth attempt to grin again ended in a grimace. “You mean,” he exclaimed, as something suddenly dawned on him, “you might actually have gotten a picture of the kid that did this?”

Gage nodded. “Along with the…blurry…ass end…of a…really big…buck,” he clarified and made another valiant attempt to smile. Once more, he failed—miserably. “Thanks…Marco…”

Lopez stashed the arrow piece into one of their packs and his knife back into his pocket. Then he gave his grateful—but hurting—friend’s right shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Por nada! Ready?”

“Ready…or not…we gotta get…me…outta here.” John saw his helper’s extremely worried expression. He released his hold on the arrow and gripped Lopez’s wrist reassuringly right back. “We’ll make it…Marco…We only got…a little less…than a mile…to go…Besides…if my legs…do…fail…you can always…stop an’…raise my…tail,” the paramedic proposed, with the faintest of smiles.

Marco somehow managed to muster up a fleeting smile of his own. He slung the straps of their packs back over his left shoulder and helped his hurting friend into a sitting position. When Gage had recovered from the agony of that movement, he regrettably hauled him the rest of the way back up onto his unsteady feet. He draped the moaning man’s left arm back over his right shoulder and the two of them started stumbling off in the direction of the parking lot again.

E!E!E!E!

Getting back into the house with the crossbow wasn’t going to be as easy as Corey thought. His mother was home. She was supposed to be out shopping. He’d have to climb up to the second floor and in the bedroom window with the crossbow and put it back in Brian’s room. He had no idea where in the house his mom was.

Sneaking around the back he was grateful for the cover of the large trees and shrubs his father prided himself on. Clayton Regland was big on landscaping and having a home so close to the wilderness only added to his horticultural zeal. Corey was not fond of yard work but for once he was glad to see that big old tree and its strong branches. Another bit of good fortune was the proximity of the tree to his and Brian’s bedroom windows. He couldn’t resist a slight grin.

A quick peek into a downstairs window gave him no clue as to where his mother was. He carefully slung the crossbow over his shoulder and started to climb the tree. The boy moved slowly and deliberately because of the extra burden he carried and also to make as little noise as possible. Reaching the top he peered into his brother’s window and leaned back quickly. His mom, Melinda, was in Brian’s room.

‘What is she doing in there? It’s not laundry day and besides Brian isn’t even here!’ Then another thought hit him. ‘Doesn’t she notice the crossbow isn’t in there?’

He figured she must not’ve noticed. . .at least not yet. Otherwise she would have turned right around and gone in search of him, since they were the only two home at the moment.

He hoped that if any *one* thing could go right for the day, it be this. ‘Please?’ he prayed.

Corey slowly climbed onto another branch of the sturdy tree and moved closer to his own window. The coast was certainly clear for him there. Fortunately he’d left the window unlocked and he was able to carefully ease the window up. He climbed into his room and stashed the crossbow under his bed. He’d have to move it to Brian’s room later. Unless bad luck had his mom realize it was missing.

The boy was about to drop down on the bed when it occurred to him that if his mom had already been in *his* room, he couldn’t just suddenly be there without creating suspicion. He’d have to go back out the way he came in and re-enter through the door, just in case. He sighed as he eased back out the window. His day just kept getting better. . .not!

E!E!E!E!

Though it was becoming difficult to keep a clear train of thought in his head for very long with the continuous excruciating pain radiating through him, a sweat-soaked Johnny found himself wondering when they were going to reach the lot. The ‘less than a mile’ they’d had left to travel seemed awfully long at the moment.

‘Maybe I was wrong on that, too. . ‘

He figured his judgment could very well be off on a lot of stuff.

Suddenly the toe of the hiking boot on his left foot caught on a jagged rock embedded in the ground and he stumbled forward, nearly taking himself and Marco down for a second time. But thanks to the remaining strength in the latter, both men were able to regain their footing in time.

“Sorry. . .Marco. . .”

Lopez kept his hold on him and John heard an audible sigh of relief from his friend.

“Jus’. . .tryin. . .ta. . .to keep. . .you. . .on. . .your toes. . .” he joked.

 “And off my feet,” Marco shot back sarcastically. He waited for another comment in return, but it didn’t come.

Done with the verbal exchanges for the moment, Johnny closed his eyes and remained leaning on Marco as he tried to muster up enough strength for his shaky body to go on. When he opened his eyes, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he had to fight back the urge to vomit. Nothing would have come out anyway, he was empty. But just the heaving motion would have been bad enough.

E!E!E!E!

They’d only been walking for just over half a mile when Marco felt himself pulled forward by John’s stumble. He’d noticed his injured hiking companion grow more lethargic over time. The paramedic’s gate consisted of alternating dragging motions, barely lifting each foot off the ground. It was no wonder a rock only sticking up out of the ground by a half an inch eventually tripped him up.

Marco looked at the trail that disappeared over another hillside ahead while he waited for Johnny to let him know it was time to move on. The parking lot would be in sight as soon as they made it to the edge of that hill; he couldn’t wait to see the Land Rover.

“Okay. . .Marco. . .”

As they made their way forward, Marco found himself thinking back to the teeth marks on the stick. And he had to wonder how much more pain Gage could take.

E!E!E!E!

A short time after crawling out his bedroom window, Corey was back in the house and had talked briefly with his mother after she’d come downstairs. Fortunately she hadn’t noticed the scratches on his arms, yet. That would give him time to think of a really good explanation that she’d believe and not question. And she still didn’t mention the crossbow not being in his brother’s room, which meant he’d have a chance to put it back before anyone would take another look.

E!E!E!E!

Once the two hikers reached it, the last section of the sloped trail to the parking area wasn’t easy. It was steeper than other parts they’d covered and John and Marco had to go exceptionally slow so as not to lose their footing on the loose gravel. One slip by either could send them tumbling down. And although it wasn’t an exceptionally *long* hill, John rolling onto the arrow could certainly prove to be fatal.

Lopez took his gaze off the ground where he was keeping an eye out for anything that might trip them up again and looked ahead.

“You know, I don’t think I have ever been so glad to see your truck before.”

“Me. . .t—” But his words were cut off with a sudden , “Aahhhhh,” as he took a jarring step downward.

Still supporting his buddy, Marco turned his head in alarm as they came to an immediate halt.

Johnny let out another groan, his eyes squeezed shut tight like many times before during their challenging journey.

“Can you make it?”

A very slight nod of the head was his only reply.

E!E!E!E!

Cory did a couple of easy chores his mother had requested, then was glad to escape back to his room. He sat on the bed wishing that the day had just been a crazy dream and that none of it really happened. Trying to put it out of his mind he flopped onto his back and turned on the stereo. He put on his headphones, then tried to get lost in the music.

E!E!E!E!

Johnny leaned close to the back end of the Land Rover, his left shoulder against the driver’s side, while Marco opened the rear door. Marco may have never been so glad to see the truck, but *he* had never been so relieved to have it within reach. He was absolutely drained from the hike back and the relentless pain from the arrow. The idea of being able to finally lie down and do nothing else was a welcome one. Sure he couldn’t stop the agony, but it couldn’t get any worse. Or at least he hoped not.

The backpacks were on the ground nearby where Marco had let them drop off his shoulder as he helped his injured friend over to the vehicle. He would worry about them once John was set.

With the door now open, Lopez reached out.

“Do you think you can handle climbing in, with a little help?”

“Sure. . .”

What choice did he have?

Johnny kept his left hand on the back of the Land Rover as Marco helped him to the open door, being careful to stand away from the broken end of the arrow.

After a few steps, they were in place for Gage to sit on the edge of the floor. But the whole ordeal wasn’t going to be easy. He’d have to slide back and carefully lie down, being very cautious of the arrow.

The paramedic held his breath and gritted his teeth as he slowly and methodically got situated just inside the door. Marco offered physical support as much as he could. He thought about the camera that had been placed in Gage’s pack and wondered how good of a shot Johnny got of his young assailant and where that boy was now.

“Oh . . .man. . .” Johnny finally whispered as he managed to slide back. He sat still a moment and closed his eyes, his face downward. He could feel himself tremble from the effort it took to get situated thus far. He then continued until he was able to lie down on his back, his legs outstretched. 

Marco grabbed a blanket that was rolled up off to the side and opened it before he gently placed it over Johnny, leaving the arrow itself uncovered.

It was then he noticed an extremely small amount of blood on John’s shirt where the stick had gone in. He didn’t know when that had appeared since he was on the left side most of the time. He also didn’t know exactly what it meant.

‘All I know is his condition is deteriorating.’

Marco grabbed the backpacks and stuck both under John’s feet to keep them elevated. That would help with his blood pressure.

“Ready to roll?”

“More. . .than. . .ready. . .Marco.”

Johnny’s awareness of his surroundings lessoned somewhat as Marco hurried to the driver’s door with the keys in hand, anxious to get his friend to a hospital.

E!E!E!E!

Marco jumped into the driver’s seat and thrust the key in the ignition not prepared to hear the loud grinding noise when he turned the key. He looked for the gearshift and a wave of panic washed over him. It wasn’t where it should have been. Chancing a glance to the right he found it on the floor between the seats. ‘Damn!’

He repeated the expletive out loud. Johnny was barely conscious of Marco’s distress. Rousing more he managed to ask what was wrong.

“Well, um, your car. It’s, it’s not an automatic.”

“No… it’s not.” Marco’s silence spurred him on. “Is… that a… problem?” Sure that it was, though his brain was foggy, since his friend brought it up.

“Kind of,” he replied. “I can’t drive a stick, Johnny. I never learned.” Growing up, he had uncles that had offered to teach him but having learned on his parents’ automatic he never saw the point until now. Automatics were so much easier with no gears to shift and no having to remember what to push or when. Now he felt like kicking himself for not taking someone up on their offer.

Johnny moaned as he shifted his position slightly. ‘God that hurts,’ he thought to himself. ‘I just want this over with.’ To his companion he said, “Guess you’re… gonna learn… now, eh?”

Marco sighed. He was full of doubts. The one time he tried to drive a friend’s stick in high school had been a disaster and it had rattled him so much that he made sure he’d never have to do it again. Now, it was a matter of his friend’s survival. He’d have to do it. He had no choice.

“I’m really sorry, Johnny.”

“S’okay. Not your… fault. Gonna have… to tell ya… from back here… though.” There was no way he could make it to the front passenger seat much less sit upright. Driving himself was sure out of the question. He had faith that Marco could do this. He had to.

It had been a long time since Johnny himself had learned to drive or instructed someone else how to drive. The more he thought about the mechanics of driving a standard the more his fuzzy pain-filled brain refused to yield the information. The last time he had tried to teach someone he had to replace his clutch. They had not been easy to teach. That much he did remember.

One thing he had been meaning to do was have his clutch checked. He did a lot of traveling to and from the mountains and he wanted his pride and joy to be in tiptop shape since summer was coming. His addled brain was now making a note to do just that and soon. He had a feeling his baby was going to need it.

“Johnny?” Marco turned and queried his friend after a few moments of silence.

“Sorry… just… thinking.”

“That can be dangerous you know. We’re in enough trouble right now, my friend, without adding more,” he grinned. He tried to add a bit of levity to the situation but when Johnny snickered at his attempt he hurt so bad that Marco instantly regretted making a joke.

“Now I’m the one who’s sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Winded, hurting, and extremely tired Johnny sighed. “Kinda hard… to explain..,” he paused. “Driving is like… breathing. You do it… without… thinking about…the ‘how’s’. Trying to… think of .. how to explain. Just need a… few moments.”

Once Johnny had gathered his thoughts he spoke up. “First thing you… need to remember… is you use both feet. In an automatic… you only use… your right foot. In a standard… you need to use… your left for… the clutch. Very… important. Gotta remember it. And… I can’t help… you shift from… back here. Not that I’d be… much help up there… with the way… things are.”

He shifted his position a little which caused another flare up of intense pain that sucked the breath out of him. After taking a few slow even breaths he was able to continue. “Now, make sure the… key is in the… off position. It’s already in… gear so you need… to put it in… neutral. Right foot… brake. Left foot… clutch. Think you can find… neutral?”

“On the gearshift?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s been a long time but I think I can.” He quickly examined the shift knob. “In the middle right?”

“Yeah.”

It took several tries but he finally got it into neutral. Johnny was glad he hadn’t tried to start it right off because he didn’t think he could have handled the lurch in his present state. Marco was nervous. With his friend injured and having to keep an eye on his condition and having to learn to drive all over again he felt quite overwhelmed. ‘Why couldn’t Roy or Mike have come along,’ Marco wondered. ‘One of them could have driven this truck and I could have helped keep an eye on Johnny.’

“Okay, we’re in neutral,” he finally proclaimed.

“Now, start the… engine.” He relaxed slightly as the engine roared to life. “Good,” he replied. “Now. . .now you. . . need to take. . . it to first.”

The truck lurched a bit as Marco forgot about the clutch and brake and where to move the gearshift. After several more tries and the engine stalling on him, he finally got it back into neutral. Marco stared at the gearshift trying to remember all he needed to do to shift to first. Forgetting to depress the clutch the horrible grinding noise was heard again.

Johnny flinched as did Marco. He could only imagine what his friend was thinking. Gage wondered if his truck would survive this driving lesson.

“Sorry, Johnny,“ he apologized again.

“Clutch, Marco.“

“Yeah, I’m trying. I‘m not sure I can do this.“

“Sure you can… You can do this.“

Finally he remembered to depress the clutch to change gears and the Rover was in first. Taking another deep breath he prayed for additional guidance to drive the truck back to Carson. He lifted his foot off the brake and as soon as the Rover started to roll he stomped on the brake causing it to stall again.

Swearing softly, Marco put it back in neutral. It was easier to just start from the beginning for him. He remembered to clutch and then back to first gear and he was ready to roll. He hoped. Easing off the brake he moved forward at a snails pace. He wanted to go as slow as possible to get used to the feel of driving the truck before letting it pick up speed. He knew he needed to get back to Carson as soon as possible but he also wanted to get there in one piece.

“Great. . . job, Marco,” Johnny said from the back. He closed his eyes with the thought, ‘Finally we’re heading home.’

Marco forgot to clutch as he braked and stalled again. Soon he had the Rover back in motion without any comment from his friend. It was hard to remember to use his left foot and to use the clutch. He found himself loving his automatic more with each passing second.

Eventually the Hispanic firefighter made it to the main road in the canyon. This road would lead them to the highway but it sure had its share of ruts and potholes. Marco tried to avoid any they came upon, but wasn’t able to miss them all. Johnny tried to keep his moans to himself but with the last pothole he just couldn’t bear the pain. He nearly bit a hole in his bottom lip.

“Sorry, Johnny.” When Marco stopped to look over his shoulder at him, he stalled. “Well, we got this far,” he murmured. He started the car again. Each time got a little easier, but he still couldn’t break his habit of braking without the clutch.

There was still a fair distance of semi-wilderness driving before reaching the highway. Now that was making him nervous. He couldn’t drive slow all the way to Carson because Johnny needed help now. He was going to have to take it up a notch and keep up with the flow of traffic. Right now he concentrated on the rough road ahead of him. He knew it would be better once they hit real asphalt.

E!E!E!E!

Gage was well aware of their speed or lack thereof. He wasn’t about to push his friend to go faster although he knew he needed to get to a hospital and soon. Marco was doing something very difficult and he appreciated it more than he could say. The pain was hard to bear and each bump in the road magnified it. They both were going to need each other’s support to make it back home.

The snail’s pace soon picked up as they started to travel down a slight hill. Johnny sighed with a tiny bit of relief at that. Maybe coaxing Marco into second gear wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. Suddenly Marco slowed and the Rover stalled but not before an unwelcome jolt had Johnny giving another “Ahhhh,” in pain and seeing a burst of bright stars flash.

“I’m so sorry, Johnny. I barely saw that in time. I don’t remember seeing it on the way up.” There was a deep rut running across the road from runoff during the rainy season. It contained jagged rocks and other debris but was still deep enough to jar the vehicle and its occupants.

“Need me to stop for a few minutes?”

Johnny shook his head and said, “No, man. Let’s. . . just get. . . out of here.”

Marco once again started the Rover, missed first and the resulting sound hurt almost as much as that rut did.

“Sorry,” the driver said.

He got the truck in gear again and they continued down the hill. He could see the sign pointing to the highway and he smiled a little.

Halfway to the sign, he felt another jarring and heard a strange sound. The Land Rover veered to the right and he slammed on the brakes. He once again forgot the clutch so the engine stalled. He could hear Johnny saying something about the parking brake. He located it quickly and engaged it. Once the vehicle was safely at a standstill, he jumped out and went around to the passenger side.

The right rear tire was flat.

Marco swore. He wasn’t a man prone to swearing, but he knew his Momma would not be proud of what to him was an excessive use of profanity on this trip. Marco pulled open the back door to inform John of the latest development and to locate the jack.

“What’s wrong… Marco?” He had a feeling he knew just what it was but was praying he was wrong.

“We have a flat.”

He had been right. This was going to delay their return and only add more stress to his friend. Johnny shifted trying to get back to a comfortable position and instructed Marco where to locate the jack and lug wrench. This day just kept getting better and better he thought, sarcastically. He should be out there helping change the tire but instead he was stuck in the back with an arrow sticking out of him. If it wasn’t for that kid none of this would have happened and their great day in the canyon would have been just that instead of a disaster. He closed his eyes trying to rest while he had a chance.

Marco struggled to get the spare off from where it was mounted on the hood and dropped it on the ground beside the vehicle. He was thankful Johnny had a spare and that it wasn’t flat as well. He then grabbed the jack from its storage space and the lug wrench. Now all he needed was a little more help from above to get the tire off.

There was a gaping hole in the side of the tire. ‘Must have happened when we hit that rut.’

Marco wondered if their day could get any worse. ‘Well, at least it’s not raining,’ he thought.

At that moment several clouds passed in front of the sun and he hung his head. The moment passed and the sun shone through bright as before.

‘I must be getting paranoid,’ he thought. Murmuring yet another prayer, he placed the jack under the frame and started to lift the vehicle.

E!E!E!E!

Johnny woke to the sound of a grunt outside through an open window.

‘Wha—?’

He lazily peered around and recalled he was in the back of his Land Rover. Then it all came back to him with a flourish. Marco had been driving and they’d gotten a flat. Apparently he was still busy with the task of changing it.

Gage started to push himself up on his elbows, and immediately stopped with a jarring renewed pain that shot through his right side with a vengeance. It was nearly enough to make him pass out again.

With Marco no longer in the vehicle to keep his foggy mind somewhat focused, he’d drifted off to unconsciousness. For how long, he didn’t know. But if Marco was still in the process of changing the tire, it couldn’t have been *too* long.

His mouth dry, lips parched, John croaked out between panted breaths, “Marco?”

E!E!E!E!

Marco swore in Spanish as he struggled to get the last lugnut off to free the tire. It was being beyond stubborn. Positioned on his knees, he grunted hard and stuck out his tongue as he gave another firm tug on the wrench. Finally it broke loose. He sat back on his heels in exhaustion and swiped at the sweat on his forehead.

The fireman took a glance at his watch. It had taken him a lot longer than he’d hoped and the fact he hadn’t been in communication with John for the duration had him uncomfortable. He’d have to check on him before he put the new tire on.

Marco dropped the wrench and got to his feet. He stepped around to the rear door and opened it.

E!E!E!E!

With no response to his first call, Johnny waited a few seconds to gather more strength, then tried a little louder, though raspy, “Marco?”

Whether it was because his voice had been loud enough this time or just coincidence, he didn’t know. But the door suddenly opened, revealing his concerned friend. . .who looked like he could use a shower and good night’s sleep.

"You. . .you look. . .like . . .hell, man. . ."

"Yeah? Well, you should see yourself."

He didn't have to. The fact he felt like hell was proof enough.

Both men broke into slight grins, Marco’s in relief his friend still had a little spunk; Johnny’s to let Marco know that he was still hanging in there.

“Get some rest. I’m going to get the spare on now so we can get out of here.”

Johnny nodded slightly, then closed his eyes as he laid his head back down. Once the door was closed, he weakly reached for his left wrist with his right hand. He held shaky fingers in place as he tried to read his pulse. But his mind wasn’t clear enough to keep count. He carefully let his arms down, so as not to hit the arrow end with his right. There he lay panting, his breaths very shallow.

The wounded paramedic’s mind soon drifted off to oblivion as unconsciousness once again claimed him.

E!E!E!E!

Marco was glad that it was much easier getting the spare tire on. Too exhausted to deal with the flat after his earlier struggles, he left it on the side of the road.

He opened the back door to check on Johnny again. This time his hiking companion was out. Marco decided to let him be. At least this way he wouldn’t be aware of the pain. Not on a conscious level anyway.

He gently lifted the blanket and eyed the blood stain on Gage’s shirt. It hadn’t increased by much at all. That was a good sign to him. The arrow was doing its job to keep him from bleeding out.

‘Unless he’s bleeding internally,’ he reminded himself.

He quickly stowed the tools and was right back on the road, headed for help. But it hadn’t been an easy start. More like a jerky take off, which brought a groan from behind the seat.

“Sorry,” Marco said into the rearview mirror, though he couldn’t see his passenger. He had a feeling he’d be needing to say it a lot more than he already had.

E!E!E!E!

Before getting back on the expressway, Marco had stopped to check on his badly injured buddy.

The paramedic was still 'somewhat' responsive. Each time the truck’s tires traversed an expansion joint in the highway, and jarred the arrow embedded in his chest, John would emit an involuntary moan.

 

E!E!E!E!

Marco heard another moan and gave the motionless legs in the rear view mirror a concerned glance.

Gage’s steadily deteriorating condition was definitely cause for concern.

The Rover’s extremely anxious driver had actually considered pulling up to the nearest phone and calling 911 for an ambulance, or maybe even asking someone for directions, and taking his injured friend to the closest medical facility, himself. But then the fireman realized that, by the time the ambulance got to their location, or he finally found his way through unfamiliar territory to the nearest ER, he could probably have had his unconscious companion already back at Rampart.

So he decided to just race Johnny 'there', instead.

 

E!E!E!E!

For the past fifteen minutes—and the last twenty-five miles—the only sound coming from the back was that of John’s labored breathing.

Marco was becoming increasingly concerned.

His wounded buddy’s already rapid and shallow respirations were also beginning to sound slightly irregular.

 

E!E!E!E!

Speaking of respirations…

The entrance to Rampart General’s parking lot finally appeared, which prompted the Rover’s distraught driver to exhale one extremely lo-o-ong sigh of relief.

Lopez entered the lot, drove through the underpass and backed up to the hospital’s emergency entrance. He killed the engine and dashed out of the vehicle, leaving its driver’s door wide open its manual transmission locked in reverse. He paused to pull the truck’s back door open. He gave his unconscious companion a quick visual once over and then went racing into the building.

 

E!E!E!E!

Marco skidded to a halt in the middle of the ER’s highly polished corridor. “I need a doctor!” he hollered down the seemingly deserted hallway.

 

E!E!E!E!

Dixie McCall and Kelly Brackett were standing in the doctor’s office when they heard a vaguely familiar voice call for medical assistance. The pair, who were just about to go ‘off duty’, exchanged looks of alarm.

Kel, who was in the process of removing his lab coat, immediately re-donned his white smock. The doctor snatched his stethoscope back up from his desk and then followed his head nurse out the door—at a run.

 

E!E!E!E!

By the time the two reached Lopez’s position, they had another nurse, a couple of orderlies, and a gurney in tow.

“Marco!” Dixie declared, upon spotting the fireman’s familiar face. “What happened?”

“We were hiking in Topanga Canyon,” Lopez promptly explained and began leading the assembled medical team towards the ER’s entrance. “We got about five miles up the trail. John spotted a dear and wanted to take a picture. Some kid shot him with a crossbow.”

Dixie and Kel glanced at one another again, looking even more alarmed.

Part 2