In Harm's Way - part 2

Brackett stepped up to the Rover’s open rear door. The doctor got his first glimpse of the arrow that was embedded in Johnny’s right ribcage—and his jaw went slack. In his fourteen years as an Emergency Receiving physician, Kel had never been called upon to treat the victim of a ‘crossbow’ shooting…before. “How long ago did it happen?” he inquired, climbing up into the truck bed, to give their apparently comatose patient a preliminary exam.

“He picked me up shortly after noon. It took us about forty-five minutes to get there, and we’d been hiking for about an hour. So it had to be some time between 2:30 and 3:00,” the fireman informed him.

The physician frowned. That was over 'four hours' ago! The doctor adjusted the chest piece of his stethoscope. His frown deepened. The patient had no breath sounds on the right. “His right lung’s collapsed! C’mon, guys! Let’s get him inside! Carol, reserve an OR and then contact the authorities. I’m sure they’ll wanna follow up on our…shooting victim.” The physician assisted the orderlies and the perfectly still—and ghostly pale—paramedic was carefully placed upon the waiting stretcher. Brackett then led the medical team back into the building, barking out more orders as the solemn procession rapidly proceeded.

 

E!E!E!E!

Marco moved John’s Rover out of the way. Then he grabbed Gage’s pack from the back of the now ‘legally’ parked vehicle and hurried back into the hospital…to wait.

 

E!E!E!E!

Johnny was whisked into an ER treatment room, and immediately transferred to an exam table, where his soiled and bloody clothing was quickly cut away.

Brackett’s #1 priority seemed to be getting their barely breathing patient intubated. Once the airway was inserted, and the O2 was flowing freely, the physician’s focus shifted to the cause for the paramedic’s respiratory distress—his punctured right lung.

Dixie hooked their trauma patient up to a cardiac monitor and then began gathering vital signs. Besides the absence of breath sounds in his right chest cavity, the fireman was exhibiting all the classic symptoms of a pneumothorax. His blood pressure was dangerously low, his heart rate was extremely rapid, and—judging by his blue-tinged appearance—the deflated lung was causing the oxygen levels in his blood to become severely depleted. The nurse recorded her findings and then began drawing blood samples. The woman was certain the arterial blood gases tests Kel had ordered would confirm what their patient’s cyanotic complexion was already telling them.

Kel placed the chest piece of his stethoscope over their patient’s collapsed lung and then tapped Johnny’s ribcage with the tips of two fingers. As expected, his instrument registered a distinct ‘hollow’ sound. He slid the little silver disk over a few inches to the left. Not surprisingly, there was a shift in the normal location of his patient’s heart sounds. The doctor pulled the tips of his stethoscope from his ears and then grasped the skin on the back of Gage’s limp left hand between two fingers, causing the fireman’s flesh to ‘tent up’. The physician kept the paramedic’s skin pinched for a few seconds and then released it.

Skin with normal turgor snaps rapidly back into position. The skin on the back of their shooting victim’s hand remained elevated and seemed to take forever to return to its normal position.

The right corner of Kel’s mouth twitched twice. Judging by the decreased skin turgor, Johnny was suffering from moderate—to severe—dehydration. The doctor turned to the nurse standing at his side and requested that an intravenous dose of electrolytes be administered, along with the already prescribed D5W.

The nurse nodded and promptly started the ordered IV’s.

Kel picked up their patient's chart and got his first look at the victim's vitals. A foreboding frown appeared on the physician's handsome face.

The paramedic's condition was critical! They couldn't wait for an O.R.! Johnny's lung needed to be re-inflated *right now*!

Not wishing to create another hole in their patient’s already punctured chest, Brackett’s first attempt to get the fireman’s collapsed lung re-inflated was made using just a big-bored needle and a large hypodermic syringe. The physician's frown deepened, as his efforts were to no avail. He was going to have to insert a chest tube, after all. The doctor reached up and directed one of the powerful overhead lights at Gage's right side. “Dix? Can you give me a hand here?”

Miss McCall was in the process of performing a prescribed EKG on their patient. She turned the task over to another nurse and promptly took up a position at the surgeon’s right side. Dixie tied a surgical smock in place and slipped on some sterile latex gloves, before helping the doctor don the same sterile operating attire.

Another nurse approached the pair from behind. The woman covered their mouths with cloth masks and secured them in place.

Brackett's expert eyes scanned his surgical patient's side, near the base of his deflated right lung. At the lateral border of the pectoralis major, the doctor drew a horizontal line inferior to the axilla. At the anterior border of latissimus dorsi, he drew another horizontal line superior to the nipple. The physician then sponged the area between these lines with betadine.

Even though the patient was unconscious, a local anesthetic was administered, via injection, to deaden the pain.

Sheets were draped around the incision site—and the arrow shaft—to create a sterile operating field.

The surgeon held his gloved right hand out, palm up and open, and a scalpel was placed in it.

A small incision was made in John’s side and a passageway for the tube was cut through his muscle. The doctor dropped the scalpel onto a metal tray and re-extended his gloved hand.

Dixie promptly passed him a length of large bore, clear plastic tubing. The nurse knew that the surgeon preferred to use a larger diameter chest tube, to minimize the potential for clogging. The woman gave their patient a sympathetic glance, because she also knew the tube’s increased diameter would undoubtedly increase Johnny’s discomfort.

The plastic tube was connected to a clear glass bottle, which hung below the level of the exam table. The bottle contained sterile water. A rubber suction hose was also attached to the glass jar's lid, to optimize drainage.

The doctor inserted the tube’s free end through the opening he had just made, threaded it between two of John’s ribs and then guided into the paramedic’s air-filled pleural space.

Dixie turned the suction on.

Brackett glanced down at the water-filled bottle and smiled behind his mask, as bubbles immediately began to appear. Once the doctor had the drainage properly in place, he sutured the tube to John’s skin, to prevent it from falling out. “Sharon, get x-ray in here!” He would need to see a chest radiograph to double-check the location of the drain.

Sharon was in the process of performing an EKG on their patient. She stopped what she was doing and started heading for the wall phone.

Kel turned to yet another nurse. “Carol, get me a new set of vitals!”

Carol nodded and went to work.

The doctor stepped aside and Dixie proceeded to apply a surgical dressing to the area of insertion.

The tube would have to remain in Johnny’s side until every last bit of trapped air had been removed from the space between the inner lining and the outer lining of his collapsed lung.

Kel peeled the latex gloves from his hands and picked up their patient’s chart. The physician wrote an order for chest x-rays to be periodically taken. He would need to see the films, in order to determine if—er, *when* the paramedic’s right lung had fully re-expanded itself. The doctor then removed his surgical mask and gown, and had another listen to their patient’s chest. Another smile appeared upon his tightly pursed lips. The doctor could now hear the *beginnings* of ‘breath sounds’ on the paramedic's previously *silent* right side!

Carol reported on their shooting victim’s current condition.

Upon hearing that Johnny’s vital signs had stabilized—somewhat—Brackett’s slight smile broadened into a grin.

Gage would have to remain hospitalized until his chest tube could be removed. While the paramedic’s drainage was in place, the nursing staff would have to carefully check for possible air leaks and monitor him for any signs of breathing difficulty. The patient would also require additional oxygen, until adequate O2 blood levels could be maintained on room air, alone. Johnny would also have to breathe deeply and cough often, in order to help re-expand his right lung. The deep breaths and coughing would also assist with the drainage, and prevent fluids from collecting in his lungs.

Dixie finished her bandaging task and pulled the mask from her pretty face, to reveal *her* smile. Yes, sir! The paramedic’s prognosis was suddenly looking a *lot* better!

Now, all they had to do, was to get rid of that damn arrow…

E!E!E!E!

Lopez asked a passing nurse which treatment room Gage’s gurney had been guided into and was told he’d been taken into Exam Two.

 

E!E!E!E!

The fireman poked his head into Exam Two. Marco caught Miss McCall’s attention and the woman walked over to the partially opened doorway. He handed her the broken off, feathered portion of the arrow’s shaft. “How’s he doing, Dix’?”

“About as well as can be expected,” the nurse vaguely replied. “As soon as we can get him stabilized, he’ll be heading into the OR…” the woman glanced down at the splintered wooden shaft in her hands, “so we can take the rest of this damn thing out of him.” The nurse’s head snapped back up and she locked gazes with Lopez. “You don’t happen to know 'when' the last time he ate or drank anything was, do you?”

Marco managed a grim nod. “He had a granola bar and some water, earlier this afternoon. But he did a lot of vomiting while we were walking back to the Rover. I’m pretty sure John's stomach must be 'completely' empty because, by the time we got down to the parking lot, he just had the 'dry' heaves.”

Dixie stood there for a few moments, staring incredulously at Marco. “Johnny walked five miles…after being shot with an arrow’…and was throwing up along the way?”

Marco managed another—even grimmer—nod.

The nurse looked even more incredulous, and then deeply saddened. “That had to have hurt like hell…”

The fireman managed a final grim nod. He and the head nurse exchanged foreboding frowns.

Speaking of calling people…

Lopez pulled his head from the room and hurried off down the hall, in the direction of the Nurses’ Station.

 

E!E!E!E!

Marco set John’s backpack down on the counter at the ER’s Nurses’ Station. Then he picked the desk phone up from its cradle and proceeded to place a few important calls of his own. The first of which was made to John’s paramedic partner—and best friend. The other three calls were to inform his Captain, and the rest of his crewmates, about what had happened to the pair on their ‘relaxing’ hike up into the 'scenic' hills, that afternoon.

 

E!E!E!E!

Marco was pacing up and down the hospital corridor, in front of the same counter he’d made the phone calls from, when the first police officer appeared, a mere five minutes later.

“Are you the guy that was with the guy who got shot with the crossbow?” the cop inquired.

“LA County FF Marco Lopez,” the suddenly stationary fellow informed the officer and extended his right hand. “My shiftmate, FF paramedic, John Gage, is the one who got shot.”

The policeman took and shook the ‘off duty’ fireman’s proffered appendage. “We were told the victim is still unconscious. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

“Not at all.”

The policeman appeared pleased and promptly pulled a small notepad and pencil from his right front shirt pocket. “Where and when did this assault take place?”

“Approximately five miles up hiking trail #Two, in Topanga Canyon, between 2:30 and 3:00, this afternoon.”

“Were you with Mr. Gage at the time of the shooting?”

“No. John had stepped off the trail to take a picture.”

“Did *he* see who did it?”

The fireman nodded.

“Before he lost consciousness, was he able to give you a description of the person who shot him?”

“No,” Marco regrettably replied. “But I may have something even better for you,” he quickly added and crossed back over to the counter. He pulled Gage’s camera from the paramedic's backpack and passed it on to the policeman. “John seemed pretty certain that he had managed to take the kid’s picture. He said that a twig had snapped, and that the deer had jumped, and that he—and the kid with crossbow—had ended up 'shooting' each other.”

The police officer stared down at the camera in his hand, looking even more pleased…maybe even downright delighted. “Thanks! You’ve been a big help! We’ll process this film pronto and then put an APB out on the perp’ with the 'crossbow'.”

“The *kid* with the crossbow,” Marco corrected, with another slight smile, and re-extended his right hand.

The officer flashed the informant back the faintest of smiles. Then he re-took and re-shook the fireman’s proffered appendage—firmly.

E!E!E!E!

 
Roy DeSoto hung up the telephone in his den and stood silently staring off into space. The call he had just answered left him stunned. Shaking his head slowly he was still deep in his musing when Joanne, his wife, approached and placed a hand on his back.

“Honey? Who was that?” It was obvious that the news was not good news, but that did nothing to alleviate her worry and curiosity. The disjointed conversation had clearly upset her husband. “Roy?”

“That was— “ he started and stopped. He turned slightly and pulled his wife into a hug. He needed to hold her while he processed the information. ‘How in the hell?’ he wondered as he worked out an answer for his wife.

“That was Marco,” he said quietly, he and Joanne now apart. His answer was too quiet and she wondered briefly why Marco would be calling Roy. Then it dawned on her that Marco and Johnny had made plans for that afternoon and her worry increased. Why was Marco calling and not Johnny?

“Roy, what is it?”

“Johnny’s at Rampart. Seems their peaceful hike in the canyon wasn’t so peaceful. He’s been shot.”

“Shot? How? Is he all right? What—”

“—Jo, he was shot with an arrow. Some kid with a crossbow. It was a freak accident, more or less. Marco said they’re waiting on an OR. I need to—”

“—Go on. Let him know we’re thinking of him and we’ll be by to see him as soon as we can.” She was deeply concerned for her husband’s partner. Johnny was his best friend and like family to them. It was inconceivable that something like this could happen. This was real life after all, not some stupid Saturday afternoon western. ‘An arrow? A kid? How could this happen?’

Watching her husband gather his wallet and keys from the livingroom and kitchen, she could see how upset he was. Her concern deepened as it now encompassed him and the rest of the guys at Station 51. They were more than just co-workers. They had a bond that made them all part of each other’s families.

“I’ll call when I know something okay?” He said as he headed for the front door.

“Sure,” she replied. “He’s going to be all right.” She hoped that voicing it would make it so.

“Yeah,” he replied giving his wife a smile he didn’t really feel.

Joanne returned the smile and said a silent prayer that Johnny would get through this. A loud crash came from the bedroom area of the house and she hurried off to see what the kids were up to. Another thought came to her as she wondered how she was going to break it to the kids.

E!E!E!E!

After supper with his parents, Corey returned to his room. His mom was upset with him for not eating much, but he couldn’t. His stomach was in knots.

Right before he jumped onto his bed, his foot came in contact with something hard.

‘The crossbow!’

Heart pounding, he picked it up and after a quick check of the hallway, hurried to his brother’s room. As quickly as he could, he tried to put it back the way Brian had left it. He dropped it once and hoped his parents didn’t hear the noise. The more he hurried, the more noise he seemed to make.

Once out, he pulled the door closed behind him and leaned against it with a sigh.

“Corey?”

His mother’s voice startled him and he looked up into the concerned eyes of his parents.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“What is going on with you? What were you doing in Brian’s room?”

“Nothing. I. . .I just miss ‘im. I’m – I’m fine,” he stammered. He could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck and prayed they would just leave him alone.

“Are you sure, son?” It was then that the father decided to address the scratches on his son’s arms that he’d noticed earlier. “How did you get those, anyway?”

“Oh. . . I guess I must’ve got ‘um from playing in the brush. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m fine, Dad. I already put stuff on ‘um so mom wouldn’t hafta.”

It sounded innocent enough. Not seeing a real need to interrogate him further, the Reglands’ left their son to go about his business.

E!E!E!E!

Roy sat in his car for a few minutes before he started the engine. A hundred scenarios and every bit of his paramedic training waged a war within him. He fought for understanding and self control. He was in shock. He couldn’t think of another way to describe how he felt.

He was very concerned for his partner’s health. The injury alone could be fatal but the fact they were out on a trail far from medical care had to complicate things. ‘Did he lose a lot of blood? Where exactly did the arrow hit him? How did he manage to make it back to the car? Was Marco able to offer him any type of relief?’

He also wondered how these things happened and more often to his seemingly accident prone partner. Johnny wasn’t *really* accident prone but some of the situations he found himself in led one to believe otherwise. It was one of the reasons Chet cited for his constant teasing of Johnny.

Once he started the engine he found himself feeling a little angry. The whole thing was senseless. He wished he had been there with him to help take care of Johnny. A little pre-hospital care could do wonders in even the grimmest of situations. This was truly one for the books.

Putting his car in drive, Roy pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. He couldn’t wait to get to Rampart. Somehow just seeing Johnny would help alleviate his anxieties, he hoped. Every red traffic light made the relatively short drive to the hospital seem like a cross country journey.

E!E!E!E!

Dixie re-adjusted the drip on Johnny’s IV as Doctor Brackett took a second brief glance at the arrow piece Marco had dropped off. It was now lying on the counter behind him.

“He’s lucky it was just a target practice arrow. If it’d been a hunting blade, he’d be dead by now.”

Dixie looked down at the hapless paramedic. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his face somewhat grimy. She eyed the plastic tube they’d inserted into his chest to clear the cavity surrounding the deflated lung. An oxygen mask was over his nose and mouth to aid with his breathing, and the steady beep from the EKG could be heard as the monitor displayed a graph of Johnny’s improved heart rate.

Dixie still couldn’t imagine what the five miles back to his Land Rover must’ve been like for him. It was a wonder he hadn’t passed out along the way.

“Well, his vitals are holding. For now.” Brackett eyed his patient and with a twitch of the mouth commented, “Next thing is to get that arrow out.”

Dixie sighed. John Gage had been through enough close calls over the years. He certainly could do without all this.

Suddenly the slight flutter of his eyelashes, along with a barely audible groan, caught her attention.

E!E!E!E!

Roy strode through the doors of the Emergency Room entrance and looked around for his co-worker. He nearly ran into an elderly couple that were on their way outside.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said as he brushed by.

When he didn’t see Marco in the waiting area, he walked around the corner. There was Lopez near the base station and desk.

“Where is he Marco? Where’s my partner?”  Roy asked as he approached. The tone of his voice startled the Hispanic firefighter. Marco expected the man to be upset but the emotion in his voice was more than he’d anticipated.

 
“They’re getting ready to take him to the operating room. He’s in there.” He pointed toward the door nearest to them.

The expression on Marco’s face made Roy pause. “I’m sorry. I just—”

The door opened and Dixie stepped out. She looked both worried and relieved. “Roy!” She knew he wanted to see Johnny but he’d need to be taken upstairs soon. “Go on in. He’s being moved in a few minutes.”

E!E!E!E!

Hank Stanley walked into the corridor of the Emergency ward just in time to see Roy go into Treatment Room Two. Marco was by the nurses’ desk, Dixie McCall beside him with a concerned look on her face. He wondered if it was all for Gage, or if part of her worry was with Marco. The incident had to have taken a toll on him as well.

The captain hurried down to the pair.

“Any word on John?”

Dixie didn’t answer, but rather remained in the background so the two men could talk.

“He’s going up to surgery in a couple of minutes,” Marco offered.

“How bad *is* it?”

With that, the younger man looked at Dixie. She’d know more than him.

“We were able to stabilize his vitals; he had a collapsed right lung and was severly dehydrated. Doctor Brackett thinks the arrow may be putting pressure against the costal artery within the rib cage. If it’s been knicked, it’s possible the arrow could be preventing him from bleeding more than the little bit he is.”

“And when they remove it?”

“If that’s the case, they’ll just need to cauterize it right away. The lung was the most serious concern.”

Hank nodded, then again shifted his attention to Marco. It was obvious he’d been through a lot; hints of dried sweat, dirt and grease clung to his face, arms and clothing.

“How are *you* holding up?”

“Just tired, Cap.”

Hank gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. Maybe once Johnny was situated, he could talk Marco into getting cleaned up and taking a nap. He was sure Dixie could hook the wornout fireman up there at the hospital.

The captain looked at the door to the treatment room. He was about to ask if he could go in as well when Chet Kelly joined them, looking more than a bit worried himself.

E!E!E!E!

Roy only had a brief time with his uncharacteristically pale and quiet partner. It was difficult to look at the object stuck in his side. Just like for Marco, even after all they’d seen on the job together, it was always tougher to face when it involved someone he knew. And as close as he and Johnny were as friends, it sickened him. He still didn’t understand how it could happen. How a kid could ‘accidentally’ shoot Johnny with a crossbow. He’d have to have Marco explain it all more clearly once Johnny was in surgery.

The injured man opened his eyes part way and lazily gazed within his immediate field of vision for a second time since Roy had come into the room. But he’d only managed to mumble a word or two under the oxygen mask.

“We’re going to have to take him up now, Roy,” Brackett explained. Two orderlies had just come in to assist with moving the gurney. Another would be brought in its place once it was out.

Roy glanced down at Gage one more time. He patted him lightly on the left shoulder, where the other nurse assisting had returned and tucked his IV bag for transport. 

“Take it easy, partner. I’ll see you later.”

The senior paramedic watched numbly as they quickly wheeled Johnny out, then followed behind. He was going to have to call Joanne.

E!E!E!E!

With Mike Stoker apparently still out somewhere on his long date, it remained just the three men and one nurse waiting across from the doorway when the gurney carrying Johnny was wheeled out. Dixie eyed the firemen as they took in their injured comrade’s condition. Chet slowly shook his head when he saw his shiftmate; Marco appeared still shaken and Hank’s brow furrowed in deep concern.

While the others, aside from Dixie, stayed rooted in place, the captain stepped over to the gurney. Johnny’s eyes were still open to slits and he blearily peered upward at the senior officer. 

Hank gave his left hand a careful squeeze. “Hang in there, pal.” The captain wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he could almost swear he saw the hint of what was likely a forced smile beneath the mask and a slight nod to go with it.

“Okay, let’s go,” Brackett said as he emerged from the treatment room.

Hank quickly released Johnny’s hand and the group watched as their friend was moved toward the elevator. Dixie lead the way to press the call button and to make sure her favorite dark-haired paramedic got on without a hitch.

Roy joined his shiftmates.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, his gaze on the elevator farther down the corridor.

“Why would a kid shoot Johnny?” Chet wondered out loud. He’d been stuck on that thought his entire drive over.

Marco figured Roy, Chet and the captain would be amazed when they heard the whole story. Including the fact Johnny had gotten a picture of his *assailant*.

E!E!E!E!

After some reassuring words for their patient, Brackett watched alongside the Thoracic Surgeon he’d be assisting, Doctor Brad Fitzpatrick, as the anesthesiologist administered the anesthetic to Gage. He was still in disbelief that an arrow was stuck in John’s side.

Very soon it was time for both doctors to perform their first ever removal of an arrow shaft.

E!E!E!E!

After seeing Johnny off to the surgical floor, Dixie had herded his worried shiftmates into the Doctor’s Lounge. The hospitable nurse then sat the four men down and procured them all some coffee.

Upon his captain’s prompting, Marco had begun to fill his fellow firemen in on what had transpired that afternoon, on their 'relaxing' trek up into Topanga Canyon.

Anxious to learn more about the ‘shooting incident’ herself, Miss McCall had decided to stick around.

“He was in so-o *much* pain,” the pacing hiker paused in his narrative and turned to his slack-jawed audience, “he just wanted that arrow *gone*!” Lopez paused again. “He-e…asked me to pull it out for him…but it was wedged in between his ribs too tight. I couldn’t get it to budge.”

DeSoto’s already wide eyes about bugged right out of their sockets. “WHA-AT?!”

Marco managed a grim nod. “That should give you some idea of how *much* pain he was in. He was hurting so-o *bad*, he couldn’t even think straight.” Gage’s hiking companion hung his head, in shame. “I guess I must’ve been in a state of shock myself…because I *listened* to him. It took the both of us a while to realize that John was reacting to the…situation…in a ‘patient’—and not a ‘paramedic’ mode.” The fireman’s head snapped up and he stared Roy right in the eyes. “The second time he told me to take the arrow out, I reminded him that *that* was *not* S.O.P. for impaled objects, and I flat-out refused to follow any more of *his* instructions. I cut the arrow shaft off short…and I wouldn’t let him have any more water. He couldn’t keep anything down, anyway.” Marco grimaced and closed his eyes, as he recalled their horrific trip down the trail—all too clearly.

Roy flashed his best friend’s care-giver a slight smile. “Sounds to me like you did exactly what *I* would’ve done, if *I* had been there.”

Marco gave John’s partner a grateful nod and,reluctantly, continued his narrative. “We finally made it to the Rover. I had him lie down in the back. I elevated his legs, covered him with a blanket, and we took off.

I’d never driven a standard transmission before, so we got off to a pretty rough start.

To make matters worse, those heavy rains we got last week had caused a wash-out. I swerved to miss one deep rut in the road and ended up landing in another. The bead broke on one of the truck’s tires and I had to stop and change it.

When that wheel went down into that hole, John must’ve taken quite a jolt. I’m thinking *that* was probably when his lung was punctured. Because, it was right after that, that I noticed a sudden change in the way his breathing sounded.” The frustrated fireman grimaced again and buried his mustached face in both of his hands. “I had no idea where the nearest hospital was. I didn’t even know how to get to the nearest *phone*! I remembered that we had passed 45’s on the way. But, by the time I got him there, the garage was empty—both trucks were gone. So I just drove him straight to here.”

Dixie—along with everyone else in the room—noticed that Lopez’s voice was now filled with self-doubt. “He-ey,” she gave one of the fireman’s slumped shoulders a reassuring squeeze, “you got him here *in time*. Remember? You saw to it that he received the *best* care possible, just as *quickly* as possible. So don’t go second-guessing yourself. Okay?”

“She’s right,” Stanley joined in. “You certainly didn’t waste any time in getting him here. None of us could’ve gotten him help any sooner. Well, Roy, here, might’ve known the way to a closer hospital…”

“Not coming in from *that* direction, I wouldn't,” the paramedic was quick to point out. “I would have been just as lost.” Even if he *had* known the way to a closer ER, Roy would have been sorely tempted to take his partner to Rampart, anyway.

“Do the cops have any leads yet?” Kelly suddenly inquired, in an attempt to change the touchy subject.

“Not yet,” Lopez replied. “But—hopefully—they will have a *solid* lead fairly soon. Remember how he said that he and the kid were both *shooting* the same deer?”

The people in the room with him nodded.

“Well, John was pretty positive that he had snapped his assailant’s picture. I turned his camera over to the police, and they’re developing the film right now.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hank mumbled, just beneath his breath.

“An ‘arrow’…of *all* things!” Chet just sat their, slowly shaking his befuddled head. “Anybody else see the *irony* in this?” he asked, sounding every bit as boggled as his brain. "I mean, considering John’s heritage, and all…”

His fellow firefighters exhaled some exasperated sighs…and rolled their eyes.

Leave it to Kelly!

 

E!E!E!E!

Officer Mark Jensen climbed the stairs two at a time, managing to reach the top in record time. He walked down the corridor to a wooden door with a frosted window, the words ‘Police Laboratory’ on the glass. With the door already open, he stepped inside. 

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” the technician greeted. “What brings you here?”

“This.” Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag containing John Gage’s camera.

The tech reached out and took the bag in his hands, an eyebrow raised in question.

”Belongs to a victim,” Jenson explained. “An off duty firefighter was shot with a crossbow this afternoon. His friend said he managed to snap a picture of the kid who did it when it happened.”

“Kid?”

The veteran cop nodded.

“When do you need it?”

“Yesterday.”

“Right. I’ll start on it now.” The technician stood up while his colleague walked away. “I’ll call you the minute I have something.”

“Thanks.”

E!E!E!E!

With his lung re-inflated and fluids replaced in his body, John Gage was in much better shape for the surgery ahead.

Fitzpatrick cut a small incision in Johnny’s side where the arrow was and inserted a spreader to increase the space between his ribs. With that, Kel Brackett assisted by slowly removing the arrow itself.

As soon as it was out, the two men noted the bright red blood which indicated there was an arterial bleed.

“The costal artery’s gotta be damaged, just as we anticipated.” Fitzpatrick didn’t look away from the bloodied incision. “I need suction.”

Brackett grabbed the tool and did as requested. He was glad to be doing a task ordinarily a nurse would handle since it was a close friend of his on the table. Just standing by didn’t feel like enough.

After a very brief period, it was confirmed. The costal artery had been nicked.

“Let’s get it cauterized.”

Within twenty more minutes, Johnny’s incision was stitched up, a drainage tube in it for the time being. And he was in recovery, where he had yet to come out of the anesthesia.

E!E!E!E!

Corey lay on his bed, unsuccessfully trying to read through a Spiderman comic book to take his mind off what he’d done, when he heard his mother’s voice on the other side of the door. “Corey, why don’t you come downstairs? The Six Million-Dollar Man is on.”

The last thing he felt like doing was sitting with his parents for an hour. Dinner was bad enough. But he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. He loved the Lee Majors television show about a cyborg and once again would make his parents suspicious of his behavior if he didn’t watch it like he did any other Friday night. He had no choice but to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom, endure the time with his parents, and hope they wouldn’t pick up on the fact he was scared sick. At least after the show they’d expect him to go to bed for the night.

He tossed the comic aside as he got off the bed, then opened the door to his smiling mother.

E!E!E!E!

Roy hung up the phone after giving the news to Joanne that Johnny was in surgery to remove the arrow. He was on his way back to the room with the others when he ran into the captain just outside of it.

“I got a hold of Mike,” Hank explained. “He’s on his way over now.”

“That’s good.”

The superior officer opened the door and motioned for Roy to go in first.

E!E!E!E!

“Anyone want another coffee?” Chet asked as he poured himself a second cup.

Roy shook his head, but no one spoke, except for the captain with a question of his own.

“Any news on John?”

“Not yet.”

Marco’s answer drew the attention of the captain to his weary appearance again. He really looked beat. Hank knew there was no way he was going to go clean up or rest until they had word on John. He’d already tried to suggest it once before. He made a mental note that as soon as they got the news Gage was out of surgery, he’d make sure Marco took care of himself; his plan to get Dixie’s assistance if needed was back in place. 

Maybe by the time Stoker arrived, Doctor Brackett would be informing them that Johnny was resting comfortably in a room, and they should all go home and try to get a good night’s sleep.

As Hank stood next to Marco, who was leaning against a counter for support, Dixie opened the door and peeked inside. A slight smile played on her face, which eased the tension of four very concerned firemen.

“Johnny’s out of surgery.” She stepped into the room, the door closing behind her. “He’s in recovery now. He just started to wake up a few minutes ago, so he’s still very groggy. But he looks good, considering.”

Roy couldn’t hide the smile on his face. Neither could Chet. Hank put an arm over Marco’s shoulders.

“He’s okay, pal. He’s okay.”

Marco muttered a small prayer of thanks in Spanish.

E!E!E!E!

"So that's our shooter. . ."

Jenson couldn't believe it. It really *was* a kid. He’d had his doubts.

The picture was taken from a distance and included much of the scenery around the small figure holding a crossbow. On the very left edge of the photo, obviously much closer to the camera than the boy was, was the side view of what appeared to be the blurred ass end of a deer.

The ‘perp’ wasn’t really a ‘perp’ after all. The fireman’s story was 100 percent accurate. However, that wouldn’t get the kid off the hook. He was still in very serious trouble.

"Can you blow it up with just the boy?”

"Consider it done."

Officer Jenson left the lab to give his chief an update.

E!E!E!E!

Dixie left the men once more to go check on Johnny. Both Roy and Marco wanted to see him if possible, so she went to see what she could arrange.

Mike got to the hospital soon after and was filled in by his colleagues.

“I can’t believe it,” the off-duty engineer stated with a shake of the head after he’d heard the whole story.

“It sure goes to show we never know *what* we can endure to survive until we’re *in* a situation,” Hank commented. “I doubt John ever thought he could walk five miles with something driven into his side.”

E!E!E!E!

Johnny opened his eyes and squinted at his surroundings. The familiar smell of a hospital filled his nostrils. Even in this groggy state, he tried to take inventory of his condition. His throat was dry. That was about all he knew for sure.

The paramedic turned his head to the side and caught sight of a familiar person talking to someone he couldn’t place.

 “D. . .Doc,” he rasped in a whisper. He was still on oxygen, but with a nasal canula.

His hushed call was enough to draw the attention.

Kel Brackett and the other doctor stepped over, the former with a warm smile.

“Well, welcome back. How’re you feeling, Johnny?”

“Th. . .thirs. . .ty”

“I’m not surprised,” Kel said. “I’ll have a nurse get you some ice chips.”

Johnny’s bleary gaze shifted to the man he wasn’t sure of. It must’ve been obvious what was on his mind, as he got an answer without asking.

“This is Doctor Fitzpatrick. He performed the surgery to remove the arrow from your side. That was quite a scare you gave us there.”

Gage just nodded slightly and closed his eyes. It was out. That was all he needed to hear for now. He’d rest until those ice chips came.

E!E!E!E!

The door to the room where the rest of 51’s crew was waiting opened again and this time it was Brackett. He folded his arms across his chest and gave a twitch of the mouth before giving an update to the off-duty crew after a brief greeting.

“As Dixie told you several minutes ago, we were able to remove the arrow without any major complications. Johnny’s going to be moved to a room shortly, then we’ll allow a visit.”

“Is he up to it?” Hank wondered. He wanted to be sure it wasn’t too much on Gage so soon.

“Well, ordinarily, I’d say wait until morning. But he’s asked to see someone and I think in this case, it’s better if he does.” He looked at Marco, then back to Hank. “Better for *both* of them.” He shifted his gaze to Roy, who’d remained uncharacteristically in the background, considering it was his partner and best friend they were here for. The communication between the two was unspoken. Roy would have a chance to see Johnny the following day, right now the weakened patient needed rest more than anything and his one visitor would be enough.

E!E!E!E!

Jenson walked out of the lab with the enlarged picture of the boy and crossbow. He approached another officer who’d asked about the remarkable information; being that it had been a kid who shot the fireman, word had spread fast within the station.

“Is that the photo?”

“Yep. Now to *find* this boy.”

The other officer took a glance, then peered closer. “I know that kid!”

Jenson pulled back. “You do?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know his dad. Clayton Regland. The family used to live near us; I’d see the kid outside playing at times.”

“You know where they live now?”

He shook his head. “We weren’t close friends. I just know they moved about a year ago.”

With only one way to locate the family, Jenson contacted the records department and gave them the name to put in a search through the drivers licenses on file. The two officers figured there couldn’t be very many ‘Clayton Reglands’ on record, it wasn’t a very common name. They were glad to find out that there was only one, and that he now lived in the Topanga Canyon area. Which made the result a certain bet that they’d located their shooter.

E!E!E!E!

Although he was supposed to be in bed now, Corey paced back and forth in his bare feet as he looked around at the bedroom he likely was never going to see again once he was arrested for murder. He’d tried to go to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the man he’d killed; he wouldn’t go away and it was getting to the youth.

Tears glistening in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering, the boy tried to think of any way out of the horrible mess.

It was all he could do not to bolt out of the house and run away. Then again, maybe that was the *only* solution.

E!E!E!E!

Marco finally managed to take a quick shower and change into a set of clean scrubs Dixie had supplied.  With Johnny doing well enough to be moved to a room, some of the guilt Marco felt for the delay in getting him help was lifted. And it was the first time since he’d brought the seriously wounded paramedic in that he actually could relax.

He still wasn’t hungry, his thoughts all on his friend upstairs.

Marco sighed as he walked into the corridor to check back with the others before he headed up to the second floor.

E!E!E!E!

Johnny looked drowsily around the room he was in. He was grateful for the pain medication. To be able to breathe without intense wracking pain felt good. Hell, it felt better than good! It felt wonderful! The pain had gotten unbearable during the ordeal and if he didn't recall that it was only a few hours that actually passed, he would have sworn it was days.

Bits and pieces of the very long day's events drifted through his still somewhat fuzzy brain, but he knew this much - the day had to be as hard on his hiking companion as it was on himself.

The few times his co-workers were injured on the job in the past had been tough on *him*, so he could only imagine how Marco felt. Here they were out in the canyon on a hiking trail, enjoying the great outdoors, when that kid and crossbow put an end to their quiet day of fun.

‘Not to mention ruined a really great photo of that buck!’

Johnny's mind raced in a million different directions as the anesthesia continued to wear off. He and Marco had been through a lot throughout the afternoon and the latter had to put up with a real mess.

‘Literally, at times.’

His injury and his body's reaction to it was somewhat less than stellar.

An arrow of all things! Not your run of the mill accident and certainly not one even *he* could have anticipated. He recalled how Marco supported him almost the entire trek back down the trail, all the while dealing with his being in constant pain and nauseous. He could tell the lack of medical training was clearly a worry for Marco.

Getting back into the Rover was yet another ordeal he hoped to forget soon. At the time, he’d been sure he wouldn't make it without passing out. Again his friend was there for him and with his help, he got situated for the trip home.

The fact that Marco couldn't drive a standard had never occurred to him. He recalled how Marco continually apologized for his lack of driving skills and the rough roads, although neither were his fault. Johnny wondered how much 'medical attention' his Rover would need after all this.

The final insult to his injury had come with the flat tire. That was a most unexpected addition to their 'fun'day.

‘Poor Marco. I’ll bet he thought of a few new cusswords in Spanish with *that* one. I wish I could’ve helped.’

But he knew there was no way he could have assisted. ‘No__ way.’

Looking back, Johnny was glad those last jolts from the road had finally sent him over the edge and he’d lost consciousness. He hoped Marco hadn't panicked at that point, but it was most likely a blessing for them both.

The wounded paramedic sighed. He owed his friend a great deal. He owed him his life. Johnny really couldn't wait to see Marco and know for sure he made it through everything pretty much unscathed, physically anyway—and to thank him.

His eyes drifted closed as he waited for his visitor.

 

E!E!E!E!

Marco leaned against the back rail inside the elevator while Dixie McCall pressed the button to take them to the second floor. He caught a brief glimpse of his co-workers watching from a short distance away as the gap between the doors decreased.

He’d assured the men that he would give their best wishes to Johnny when he saw him. And that he would let their friend know that Roy would be in to see him between responses the following day.

Once the elevator was in motion, the somber fireman thought back to the horrific afternoon with Gage. It seemed like it happened days ago instead of hours.

‘I wonder how much *he* remembers?’

“Are you alright?”

His thoughts interrupted, Marco looked up to see Dixie eyeing him with concern.

“Yes, Miss McCall. I was just thinking.”

“Well, if you’re doubting yourself again, *don’t*. Remember, it’s because of *you* and your clear thinking that he’s even still *with* us. I’m sure Johnny’ll tell you that too.”

The doors opened and the two stepped out onto the quiet floor.

“I know. I just wish. . .”

“What?”

He gave it thought. What *did* he wish? That it had never happened? Of course. That he’d gotten Gage to medical care sooner? That went without saying. There was so much he could wish for. But it seemed logical to start with the beginning.

“I guess that we’d just stayed home today.”

She gave him a warm and reassuring smile, then motioned for him to follow her down a hallway to the left and toward room 234.

E!E!E!E!

Miss McCall entered 234 and stepped right up to John’s hospital bed.

Marco halted in the room’s open doorway, to carefully study the bed’s occupant.

The grimace was gone from Gage’s face, and the arrow was absent from his side. The paramedic’s eyes were closed and he looked perfectly at peace.

After all that he’d been through that afternoon, the last thing Lopez wanted to do was to disturb him. "I should probably come back later…when he’s awake."

"He’s not sleeping," Dixie assured Johnny’s considerate visitor. "He’s just ‘resting his eyes’." The nurse pushed her patient’s unruly bangs back a bit. "Isn’t that right?"

John felt a velvety-soft hand brush across his forehead. His ‘resting eyes’ fluttered open. A slight smile played upon his pursed lips, as first the hand’s owner…and then his anxious friend’s mustached face gradually came into focus.

"Isn’t. That. Right?" Dixie firmly re-inquired.

The paramedic had no notion as to what the pretty nurse had said previous to that. But, from the tone of the woman’s voice, the fireman figured he would be wise to answer in the affirmative. "Ri-ight," he groggily agreed.

Miss McCall flashed Johnny’s visitor a victorious smile. "He’s such an agreeable guy!"

"Gage is always agreeable…to members of the opposite sex," Marco teased right back.

Gage’s own smile quickly grew to a grin.

Dixie couldn’t help but chuckle. She could think of a few married or engaged nurses who might not ‘agree’ with that statement. The nurse’s attention returned to her patient. "I’ve been operating ‘off’ the clock, so I’m gonna go home now, and leave the two of you to visit. Try to get some rest tonight, and your partner and I will be up to check on you in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Dix."

Dixie gave the injured young man a sympathetic smile and brushed the hair back from his eyes, once again. "You’re welcome!" She placed the call button in the palm of his right hand, and then gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Be sure to buzz the duty nurse, if you have any difficulty breathing, or if you start to experience any discomfort with your chest tubes."

"I will," the paramedic promised. "Goodnight, Dix."

"Goodnight, Johnny," the nurse bid and began taking her leave.

"Goodnight, Miss McCall," John’s co-worker called after her.

"Goodnight, Marco. A-and…it’s just plain, old ‘Dixie’," corrected Miss McCall, when she reached the door to the hall. Then, with a wave, and one, final—radiant—smile, the woman was gone.

Both firemen’s gazes wistfully remained fixed upon the empty doorway for a while. There was nothing ‘plain’ o-or ‘old’ about the ER’s very kind and very caring—and very beautiful—head nurse.

Doctor Brackett was a *lucky* man!

The two friends finally snapped out of their trance and turned to stare at one another. Both of their faces suddenly filled with concern.

E!E!E!E!

Speaking of concern…

It was concern for his friend that had prompted Lopez to accept Gage’s invitation to go hiking up into the canyons with him that afternoon.

At a recent rescue, in a really remote area, the paramedic had had a little ‘run-in’ with a rather large rattler. The encounter had nearly killed him!

Marco didn’t care too much for the idea of his ‘amigo’ heading out into another—even more remote area—all alone. What if something similar were to happen to him?

But, concern for his buddy’s welfare wasn’t the sole reason for his decision to accompany the hiker up into the hills. When the offer was made, Lopez had welcomed the thought of getting away from civilization for a few hours. Gazing at all that gorgeous scenery, just might help him to forget the sight of children’s charred bodies and, breathing in all that fantastically ‘fresh’ air, just might help him to flush the stench of burning flesh from his nostrils.

E!E!E!E!

It was also concern for *his* friend that had prompted the paramedic to invite Lopez along in the first place.

Station 51 had responded to a structure fire the previous evening.

When the firemen had arrived on scene, they’d found the single-story dwelling already fully engulfed in flames.

Neighbors had informed them that the blazing building was home to a family of five.

He and his partner had discovered the parents’ bodies lying—just a few feet apart from one another—in the ashes of the completely-leveled home’s hallway.

While conducting salvage and overhaul operations, Marco had found their three little kids’ blackened bodies—all huddled together—beneath the skeletalized remains of one of their beds.

Following shifts like their last one, Gage often felt an urgent need to get away from the world of burning buildings and charred bodies, for awhile.

John had determined that, after making his gruesome discovery, Marco might also enjoy ‘communing’ with Mother Nature for a few stress—and horror—free hours. Hence, he had extended his invitation. And, boy! Was he glad that he had! If Marco hadn’t a’ been there for him that afternoon, John knew he would still be lying on that desolate hiking trail right now, either already dead—or dying.

It was funny how, sometimes, things just seemed to work out.

 

E!E!E!E!

"You look tired," John quietly commented, upon noting the deep lines of fatigue on his friend’s face, and the weary slump to his buddy’s broad shoulders. "That probably has something to do with the fact that you had to *carry* me practically all the way back to my car."

"You sure look a whole lot better than you did the last time I saw you," Marco quickly countered. "That probably has something to do with the fact that you don’t have that damn arrow sticking out of you anymore." As he stared down at his bed-ridden buddy, the look on his mustached face slowly transformed from concern—to amazement.

Instead of an arrow, John now had tubes sticking into—and out of—him. Why, there seemed to be tubes and wires running everywhere! There were tubes shoved up his nose. Tubes taped to his wrists. Tubes embedded in his chest. Judging by the color of the liquid in the clear plastic bag hanging from the bed’s bottom railing, there was even a tube attached to his—erm…

Marco’s gaze suddenly shifted back to the tubes that were embedded in John’s right ribcage. The lower one was connected to a clear glass jar, filled with—what looked like—water. The other was connected to a clear plastic pouch, filled with—what looked like—some sort of bloody fluid. ‘Hospital math,' he morbidly mused. ‘Take one thing out…and stick two more in.’ "The rest a’ the guys wanted me to say ‘Hi’ for them, and to tell you that they all hope you’ll be feeling better, soon. You already know Roy is planning on stopping by tomorrow."

"Thanks for passing all that along," John acknowledged with another grin. "Can you say ‘Hi’ back, and tell everybody ‘Thanks!’ for me?" the bed-ridden man requested and struggled desperately to keep his eyelids elevated. "Speaking of thanks…I wanted to thank you…for...everything...you did for me…today."

"I’m just glad that I could be of some assistance," Marco modestly replied.

John appeared to be fighting a losing battle with his pain meds. The fireman’s unbelievably heavy eyelids drooped completely closed. "Some…assistance?" the paramedic incredulously repeated, now speaking in s-l-o-w motion. "Marco…you…saved…my…li-ife…" he mumbled sleepily, and finally slipped off into blissful—pain-free—slumber.

"Por nada," his rescuer assured him, for the second time that day. "Buenas noches, mi amigo," Marco whispered, and gave the back of the paramedic’s right hand a few comforting pats. "Sueño tranquilo," he softly wished. The fatigued fireman gave his peacefully resting friend one, long, last—slightly concerned—glance, and then crept quietly out of the room.

E!E!E!E!

It was not a surprise to Marco to see his fellow shiftmates exactly where he’d left them when he'd gotten on the elevator earlier. He walked down the corridor to the men and made good on his promise to John.

“Do you need a ride home?” Roy wondered. “Or are you gonna take Johnny’s Rover?”

He didn’t have to think about it long. An exhausted driver who struggled with a stick shift when he was more alert taking it on now? No, they didn’t need him *joining* Gage in the hospital.

“A ride would be good. I’ve got Johnny’s Land Rover parked okay.”

Once Marco had his belongings in hand, the five men left the hospital together, thankful that *this* time a tradgedy was avoided.

E!E!E!E!

Corey had no sooner picked up his pillowcase with some clothing and his favorite comic books he'd stuffed inside earlier, when the door to his bedroom opened. In the doorway were his parents and two policemen right behind them.

The boy’s shoulders slumped, the cloth bag dropped to the floor. His whole body trembled with fear and his eyes filled with tears as his emotions betrayed him.

E!E!E!E!

“So he’s *not* dead?”

Corey sat on the couch in the livingroom of his home as the two police officers assured him he wasn’t a murderer.

The boy’s parents were still in shock. They were sure the police had made a mistake when they came to their door and told them their son had shot a man with the crossbow. And not just *any* man, but one whose job it was to save lives!

“I was in Brian’s room,” the mother shook her head. “How could I have *not* noticed the crossbow was missing?”

The police and her husband assured *her*, it wouldn’t have changed what happened anyway. The damage was already done.

“Am I in big trouble?” Corey wondered. Since it wasn’t murder, he had hope.

Unfortunately, the police couldn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear. For a third time since they’d arrived, he cried.

Epilogue:

Over the next couple of weeks that followed the unfortunate crossbow shooting, Corey Regland was still in his parents’ custody.  But it had already been made known to all involved with the case that he’d be required to serve time in Juvenille Detention for his crimes of violating both game and non-game animals, and his disregard toward the law and life, including the charge of assault with a deadly weapon.

While Johnny regained his strength in the hospital, he had time to contemplate what had happened and how he felt about the youngster who nearly brought an end to his life. As much as he knew he should be angry, he still couldn’t help but feel the kid needed some extra positive influence; something his parents might not be aware of. It didn’t seem detention was going to be the answer. It was his experience in dealing with occasional troubled youths that usually those who’d spent time in confinement of *any* kind, emerged with a harder shell and a rougher edge to them, and certainly less respect for authority. There had to be a way of reaching the boy and perhaps starting him down a new road, one much more constructive. It was after a few days of debating with himself from time to time that the answer came. He’d have to contact the authorities and propose his idea.

While having his last interview with the state policeman and US Marshall that were sent to Rampart to see the recovering paramedic, Johnny let them hear his idea for the Regland youth.

“I don’t wanna proffer charges against the kid. But only under one condition. He agrees to spend at least forty hours over a period of a month with me once I’m healed, learning ta shoot animals with a camera. Not a crossbow. If he doesn’t, he spends some time in Juvenile Hall.”

The two visitors looked at one another in surprise before the police officer returned his attention to Gage. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Johnny nodded. He hadn’t been more sure of anything in his life.

Roy was seated in a chair nearby the bed and though he hadn’t been all for it when he’d first heard of the proposal, he figured he probably would’ve done exactly what his partner was doing.

E!E!E!E!

A few weeks later, dressed in a brown suit jacket over a white collared shirt and in denim jeans, a still-on-the-mend John Gage found himself in a Juvenile Court, seated on a bench with Roy DeSoto and Marco Lopez next to him. They’d come in support of their colleague for the hearing he wanted to attend.

Corey Regland was about to learn his punishment since having been released in his parents’ custody after a trip to the police station the night he was discovered to be John’s assailant.

The state policeman Johnny had talked to earlier and a conservation officer from the Department of Natural Resources stood by, while Corey’s parents stood with *him* as the judge read the sentencing to the family. Corey’s ability to acquire a hunting license from the state of California was going to be revoked for life. The penalty was put forward by the Department of Natural Resources and followed through by the court.

Johnny watched from behind as the boy hung his head. He was obviously very sad over the outcome. His mother put her arm around him while the judge continued with the second half of Corey’s sentence.

Once Johnny’s terms were announced, the judge had the paramedic stand a moment.

“Mr. Gage, are you still willing to go along with these terms if the Regland family agrees?”

“Yes, your honor. I am.”

With that the deal was made. Johnny wasn’t sure if the boy was happy with what he was going to have to do, or if he just wanted to avoid being locked up. But he hoped as time went on, the kid would discover how enjoyable and rewarding the art of picture taking could be. And perhaps he’d learn to respect nature.

E!E!E!E!

“And why are you doing this again?” Chet wondered as he and the others from Station 51’s A-shift, minus the captain, talked about Johnny’s upcoming visits with Corey. The men had gathered at Roy’s home to watch a baseball game on TV.

“It just felt like the right thing, man.”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna give him your camera,” Marco added.

“An *old* camera.” He shrugged. “It’s not that bigga deal. I’m gonna be glad ta take the kid out and show him that there’s more than *one* way ta shoot an animal, and it doesn’t have to involve a weapon. Plus, it’s a heck of a lot safer. . .for *everyone*.”

Roy didn’t have anything to add, but rather just hoped it wouldn’t be all for not.

Knowing what his injured friend had had to endure, Marco still wondered why Johnny didn't ask the juvenile judge to 'throw the book' at his assailant.

Gage, being a 'glass half full' kind a' guy, again shrugged, then followed with, "Because he's only a little boy. Corey just turned twelve two months ago. And, it was an accident. Besides...With a little guidance in the *right* direction, the kid *might* learn from his mistakes, and turn out all right."

His partner pondered his words a moment. "Do you really believe that?"

Johnny placed a hand over the still-healing hole in his chest and recalled how close that arrow had come to killing him. "I have to."

 

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