Jaws of Time

Jaws of Time
By Linda Reiche

Johnny strolled into the Day Room, wondering where everyone was. Roy was sitting at the table sipping coffee and reading a book. No one else was in sight. They hadn't been in the locker room either. Henry, who was normally sprawled on the leather couch, was lapping up water from his dish.

"Morning, Roy. Morning, Henry." Johnny stopped his bee-line for the coffee pot to rub Henry's head. Henry looked up at him with his big sad eyes, pleading. "Hungry, Henry? Sorry, fella, but you're on a diet. The vet says you have to loose 10 pounds. So only one meal a day for you." Johnny shook his finger in front of Henry's face for emphasize.

Roy put his book down and watched as Johnny poured a cup of coffee and investigated the plate of donuts on the counter. Jelly-filled, chocolate glaze, sugar-coated. They were all Johnny's favorite, some more favorite than others, depending on size. Finally Johnny picked up the biggest one he could find.

Henry had turned his mournful eyes on Roy.

"Not fair is it, Henry. Johnny could eat that entire plate of donuts and not gain an ounce."

Henry padded over to the counter and sat near Johnny, hoping that he would relent and give him part of his donut.

The coffee was fresh, and still a little too hot to drink. The donut was fresh too. Johnny blew on his coffee for a second before taking a bite of the donut. Leaning against the counter, he held the cup near his lips, ready to take a sip when his mouth wasn't so full. The hand with the donut rested on the edge of the counter. He could still talk with his mouth full though, "What are you reading, Roy?"

"Jaws, that book by Peter Benchley. You know, the one about the shark."

"Oh yeah. The giant shark that comes out of nowhere to eat swimmers, and boaters." Johnny shook his head. "I certainly wouldn't want to meet one of those. Giant teeth sinking into – OUCH!" yelped Johnny, pulling his now donut-less hand up toward his chest and shaking it. "Henry!"

Chet walked in, spotting Johnny standing beside a happily chewing Henry. "Gage, what the hell are you doing feeding Henry donuts! He's on a diet!"

"I didn't feed him the donut –"

"What do you mean, you didn't feed him the donut? It's in his mouth and you've got powder all over your hands," accused Chet.

Chet's raised voice brought a curious Marco into the Dayroom. "What's all the commotion about?"

"Gage is feeding Henry donuts!"

"Hey, Johnny, you know you're not supposed to feed Henry donuts? They're bad for him," chided Marco.

"I didn't feed him the donut! He grabbed it out of my hand!"

"Come on, Gage. Henry can't reach high enough to take the donut out of your hand," countered Chet.

"He can, too! He almost took my finger with it! See!" Johnny held out his index finger.

The single tones rang out, interrupting the harassment.

"Squad 51. Man injured. The Wagging Tongues Salon. 412 Vera Street. 4-1-2 Vera Street. Cross street Carson. Time out 9:02"

~E!~E!~E!~

Roy pulled the Squad up in front of a plate glass window decorated with dogs and scissors. Johnny raised an eyebrow at the sight. "Well, that explains the name. I didn't think women would go to a salon called Wagging Tongues."

"You never know," said Roy. "Women can surprise you."

"You can say that again," muttered Johnny as he opened the equipment compartment. They would take the minimum – drug box, biophone, trauma kit.

Pushing open the door, they stepped into the salon.

The room was in shambles. Two of the three metal grooming tables were on their sides. Clippers and brushes lay scattered across a floor dusted with black, white and brown dog hair. Barks, yips and howls bounced around the room from their source, a row of kennels along one wall.

In the middle of the disaster area lay a blue smocked man clutching his left shoulder. A second man was slowly moving toward a large black dog. The dog was watching the approach with a wary eye, body tense and ready to burst into motion.

Roy used his feet to move aside the brushes and hair before kneeling next to the man. "I'm with the LA County Fire Department. Let me take a look at that shoulder." With gentle hands he palpated the injury. A few seconds later he called over his shoulder, "Dislocated."

"Right," replied Johnny as he set up the biophone on the lone upright table. "Vitals?"

"Coming up… Respirations 18…. Pulse 110."

Johnny stopped jotting down the information to scoot his body to one side as the dog raced past his legs. "Looks like you have a dissatisfied customer," he joked.

"Yah," snorted the victim. "Beauregard isn't keen on the clippers touching his body. It's his first time and he's a little skittish." He shifted slightly and winced. "He took off like greased lightning when I turned them on. Knocked me over…Sam, try using some liver treats."

"BP is 140 over 90. I'm going to immobilize your shoulder and we'll see about getting something for the pain. Are you allergic to anything? On any medication? Any health problems?" asked Roy.

The man shook his head, "Nah. Nothing…except I'm allergic to cats, that's why I went into dog grooming."

Roy smiled as he unwrapped the triangular bandage. "I don't think you have to worry about the doctors prescribing an injection of cat." Roy continued, "I'm going to slip this under your shoulder, it'll hurt a bit. Did you hit your head or loose consciousness when you fell?"

"Roy! Watch it!" yelled Johnny, trying to scramble around the fallen table to reach Roy.

Roy caught a flash of black out of the corner of his eye before something heavy smashed into his side. The impact knocked him sideways toward the victim.

Desperately he twisted, flinging his body backwards.

He hit the floor with a thud and a cloud of dog hair.

"Ungh," groaned Roy. The victim's sympathetic face was barely a foot away.

"Feels like being hit by a linebacker with the Rams, doesn't it?"

"You can say that again," groaned Roy as he rolled onto his knees.

"Roy. You okay?" asked a worried Johnny. He reached down to help him up.

"Yah. I think my body's going to do some complaining later though," winced Roy as he rubbed his hip.

Crash!

The sound of a body hitting metal startled them. Eyes darted around the room, looking for another victim. Sam was still on his feet, but one of the tables had slid a few feet across the floor.

Johnny could just see the dog scrambling to his feet as Sam neared him. Another foot, and he'd have a hold of the lead attached to the collar.

Beauregard, sensing capture, bounded away, nails scrapping against the tiled floor.

"Damn!" cursed a disgusted Sam. "I'm never going to get a hold of him, he's too fast."

Roy watched the dog tear around the room, barely missing the remaining upright table where their equipment sat. He glanced at Johnny, "Better help him, or we're going to have more casualties."

Johnny gazed at the dog. "Yah," he said, resigned. "Man, Beauregard must weigh 80 lbs."

"More," said Roy, recalling his encounter.

"Great." Johnny moved over to where Sam was standing. "Does he bite?"

Sam shrugged, "Who knows? He's young, excited, and wants out. We'll have to corner him before we get close enough to find out."

Johnny looked over his shoulder at Roy, who was once again trying to get the bandage around the man's shoulder. He couldn't see the grin on Roy's face. Dogs were not his strong suit today. Even Henry had pulled one over on him.

Beauregard had stopped his dash in front of the kennels. Now he stood watching them, eyes bright. Every now and then he'd swing his nose up and back, distracted by the dogs behind him.

"Okay. Let's try catching him in between us. You come in from the right, I'll come in from the left," instructed Johnny.

Sam nodded and sidled over to the right.

"Roy, can you wave your arms around to distract him?"

Roy looked up from securing the sling. He didn't think it would work. He'd seen that same gleam in his own dog's eyes when they tried to bathe him. Rascal could out maneuver Roy, Joanne and the two kids. Johnny and Sam didn't have a chance with this youngster.

"Okay. But its not going to work," warned Roy.

"Of course it will work," disagreed Johnny. “We can outsmart a dog."

Roy shook his head. "Out smart, yes. Out maneuver, no."

Sam was ready, 10 feet to the right of the dog. Johnny quickly moved to the left.

Beauregard's head twitched from one side to the other, his paws braced, ready to move. It wouldn't take much to set him off.

"Okay, Roy. At the count of two, wave your arms. Sam and I will jump him on three." Johnny crouched down slightly, ready to sprint the 10 feet to the dog.

"Ready…One…Two…Three!"

Beauregard was a master of evasion. He waited until they were almost close enough to grab him before bounding forward.

Johnny and Sam, arms stretched forward to grab the dog, grabbed empty air instead as they staggered past each other.

"Where'd he go?" asked Johnny, hair flying as he peered around him.

Silently Roy pointed across the room. Beauregard, tongue lolling from his mouth, watched them from his new position. He seemed to be saying, This is fun, let's do it again.

"Okay, okay. The direct method doesn't work," said a frustrated Johnny.

Thinking furiously, Johnny looked around the room. Nothing much. Aside from the tables and kennels, the room was pretty spartan. Pointing at the door opposite the glass window, "Where does that door go?"

"The tub room," replied Sam. Seeing a blank look on Johnny's face, he added, "That's where we wash the dogs before clipping."

A plan gelled in Johnny's mind. "Okay. Okay. Here's what we do. First we open that door. Give him a way 'out.' Then we use the tables to herd him in that direction. " Johnny's hands were moving with his words.

"I don't know," said Sam doubtfully. "Bouviers can jump pretty high. He'd have no problem getting over those if he wanted to."

"Hey, man. We got to try something," countered Johnny. "If we distract him, he might not even think about jumping. Have you got more of those treats?"

Roy shook his head in amusement. "I think we might be safer over here along the wall." He carefully helped the victim to his feet and supported him with an arm around his waist. They had only taken a few steps when Beauregard ran through the spot they'd just left, Sam in hot pursuit.

Johnny opened the door and threw in a large bag of treats. Keeping a watchful eye on his moving target, he moved back to pull the two tables into position. There was a path to the door, but only from one direction. The tables blocked access to the rest of the room. "Sam, can you chase him this way?"

"I'm trying. I'm trying." Sam slid to a stop, panting. "Back away from the tables…Okay. I think he's spotted the door. "

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a black body arrowed down the path, intent on the new opening.

Johnny could hear the treats scatter as Beauregard plowed through them. Moving as quickly as he could toward the door Johnny forgot that Sam was heading in the same direction too.

Roy winced as he watched them collide. Arms flailing, they grabbed at each other, trying to keep their balances. It was a close thing, but they stayed upright.

"Oh, no!" yelled Johnny, seeing a dark shape start back toward them. "The door!" He dived at it, sliding across the floor. The white of Beauregard's teeth stood out against the black fur-covered face. That face was getting closer. Stretching, Johnny managed to hook his fingertips on the door and pushed it closed.

Sam, a few steps behind Johnny, reached over and turned the handle. They both froze, waiting for the sound of Beauregard hitting the door. Silence. Then the sound of crunching.

Sam looked relieved. "Good, he's found the treats. We'll give him some time to calm down, then I'll try to get him back into his kennel."

Johnny picked himself off the floor. Brushing at the hair clinging to his uniform, "Hope you don't expect me to help. Once was enough. Beauregard can stay in there for all I care."

"Come on, Johnny. The ambulance is here," called Roy.

Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Johnny walked back to collect the equipment. Man, why would anyone want to groom dogs for a living. They're dangerous!

~E!~E!~E!~

"Station 51. Injured child. Sonoma Park …11438 East Del Amo Blvd. 1-1-4-3-8 East Del Amo Blvd. Cross street Sonoma Road. Time out. 11:15."

"Station 51. KMG 365," replied Cap as he wrote the address on the response slips.

The routine was familiar. The moment the tones sounded they were heading for their respective positions in the squad or engine. Mike had enough time to turn on the engine's motor and put on his turnout coat before Cap swung in the passenger door.

"Sonoma Park," repeated Roy. "Chris's class was there yesterday on a field trip." He glanced out the left window before steering the Squad into a sweeping right turn out of the station. Mike was right behind him, the twin sirens halting traffic in both directions.

There was no time for Johnny to comment while they were racing down the street at 40+ mph. His job now was to give directions and check that cross traffic was yielding on his side. Roy had to concentrate on the traffic in front and to the left. Despite the sirens and lights, a few drivers never seemed to notice the approach of the emergency vehicles. It seemed that the moment a driver passed the driving test, he or she forgot that pulling to the right and stopping was the correct response to the sound of the sirens.

Sometimes driving to an incident was more hazardous than the incident itself.

Sonoma Park was on the edge of 51’s response zone. Fortunately the mid-morning traffic was light and they could maintain their speed, arriving in under 15 minutes.

A park worker waved them to the left, down a service road paralleling the park boundary. A row of tall trees camouflaged the 10 foot high chain link fence that guarded the park. Ahead Roy could see another worker waiting beside an open gate.

Roy pulled the Squad up beside him.

"Follow the pickup. It will take you to the diorama," directed the worker.

"How close can we get?" asked Johnny.

"You can get all the way in. The engine, too. I'll wait for the ambulance."

Johnny waved his thanks as Roy pulled ahead. "Engine 51. Squad 51. The guy says we're clear to go all the way in."

"Engine 51. 10-4."

Reaching forward, Johnny cut the sirens. He left the lights flashing. The silence that descended behind him confirmed that Cap had followed suit in the engine.

The pickup was moving as fast as it could on the narrow winding road. Watching intently out the windows, Johnny was surprised to see so few people. Hardly any in fact.

Roy, seeming to read his mind, said, "He's taking us in by the service roads. The public paths are even narrower than this."

Now that the sirens were off and the threat of traffic was minimal, they could take the opportunity to talk. "You've been here before?"

"Took the kids last summer. They've got a bit of everything – a ghost town, badlands, petting farm, zoo."

The pickup signaled a left turn through a gap in a small artificial mountain range. Roy signaled as well and slowed the bulkier squad through the turn.

Once through the gap, Johnny could see wind sculpted rock of the Badlands on the right. Small scraggly bushes grew in clumps along the edge of a dry river. White bones marked the resting spot of long dead animals.

It looked dry enough to make him thirsty. And real enough to make him think of the prairie rattlers that called the Badlands home. Even if home was over a thousand miles north of there in South Dakota.

"Man," said Johnny, turning to Roy. The rest of his comment never left his mouth.

The landscape on the left was from another world. The peaks and valleys of the miniature mountain range rose and fell, a continuation of the Badlands background. But no human had ever walked these paths.

Giant ferns mingled with towering trees. Vines as thick as a man's arm dropped to the ground in tangled heaps. Just as Johnny's imagination had felt the dryness of the Badlands, now he could feel the humidity of this primitive forest.

"What in the world is that?" pointed Johnny, for once glad that he wasn't driving.

Sparing a glance to the left, Roy commented, "Pretty impressive, huh? Chris told me all about it yesterday. That display has 8 life-size, mechanical dinosaurs."

"Mechanical?" asked Johnny staring at the motionless creatures that dotted the landscape. Several giant heads could be seen over top of the trees. "You mean those things move?"

"Well, not really. The mechanics of making them walk on two or four feet haven't been worked out yet, but they do swing their heads and tails around."

"Good thing,” stated Johnny. "I'd think that moving heads and tails would be enough to send the kids screaming in terror."

Roy shook his head as he brought the Squad to a stop. "Nah. The kids love it. Even Jennifer corrects me on the pronunciation of their names. And she's only five."

The pickup had pulled up behind a crowd of children gathered at the fence surrounding the scene from the past. Mike moved past both vehicles and swung the engine to the right.

A gray-suited man moved to the side of the squad. "I'm Bob Parsons, the park manager. One of the children managed to get into the diorama." He pointed to a spot about 50 yards in from the edge. Following the direction of his outstretched hand, they could see a brown-suited worker kneeling beside a small red and blue figure. "He got hit by the Stegosaur's tail. We haven't moved him, but it looks like he's having trouble breathing."

Cap and the others gathered beside the squad. "Mike, we'll need the roof ladder to get down there. Marco, Chet, help Roy and John with the gear." He turned to the manager, "How are those things powered?"

"We have power cables running under the scenery. We've turned the power off at the junction box."

"Okay. We don't want them to start up while we're out there." Cap checked on his men. "Mike stay up here. We'll need help lifting up the stokes. Let's move."

Roy and Johnny climbed down the 5 feet to the plateau level of the diorama. They waited the few seconds for Mike to pass them the biophone, oxygen and drug box, before taking off across the field of prehistoric shrubbery. Cap waited until the stokes, backboard, IV and trauma kits were passed down. Motioning Chet and Marco to pick up the gear he lead them along the path Roy and Johnny had used.

~E!~E!~E!~

Like the well-rehearsed team that they were, they silently divided up the work. Roy knelt beside the unconscious boy, while Johnny placed the oxygen mask over the pale face. The dinosaur that they had just passed threw a shadow across the area.

Johnny glanced from the dinosaur's clubbed tail to the boy. "It must have hit him in the ribs. I'll call Rampart."

Roy just nodded. He was carefully checking the boy for broken bones. "We've got broken ribs on the left side – at least three or four. Left humerous, too. Doesn't look like any spinal or neck trauma, but we'll use the backboard anyway."

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. Come in please." Johnny pulled out his notebook while he waited for the reply.

"This is Rampart, go ahead Squad 51."

"Rampart. Squad 51. We've got an 8-year-old boy who was struck in the ribs and thrown about 15 feet. He has a fractured humerous and at least three ribs on the left side. He is diaphoretic. His breathing is labored. We have him on 3 liters of O2. Stand by for vitals." Johnny looked enquiringly across at Roy.

Roy, ears tuned to the biophone dialogue as he worked, called out, "Pulse 105, Respirations 28 and shallow. Pulse 115 over 80. Diminished breath sounds on the left." Turning to his left he saw the others arrive with the rest of the gear. "Cap. We're going to use the backboard. Can you get me a c-collar and a splint for his arm?"

"10-4, Rampart. Insert an airway, IV D5W TKO." Johnny held the phone away from his face. "Roy, any abdominal trauma?"

"No. No rigidity. The tail seems to have hit only his ribs and arm."

"Rampart. Squad 51. That's a negative. There's no indication of spinal or head trauma. We'll be transporting on a backboard as a precaution."

"10-4 Squad 51. Do you know what hit him?"

Johnny could hear the puzzlement in Dr. Early's voice. He looked at the dinosaur and rolled his eyes. "He's not going to believe me."

"Rampart. Squad 51. Umm," Johnny took a deep breath and went for broke. "He was hit by the tail of a Stegosaurus."

"Repeat, Squad 51. Did you say Stegosaurus?"

"10-4 Rampart. The boy got into a display of mechanical dinosaurs and got in the way of one of the models. The tail knocked him into a pile of artificial vines"

"10-4 Squad 51. Monitor his breathing closely and transport immediately." In his mind, Johnny could see Dr. Early's head shaking in amazement.

"10-4 Rampart, " Johnny looked at Roy, who nodded. "We're almost ready to transport. ETA about 25 minutes."

"10-4 Squad 51. We'll be waiting." With that, Johnny broke down the biophone, readying it for Roy to take with him in the ambulance.

"Marco, Chet. Take the stokes." Cap directed as Roy held the IV bag in one hand while taking the biophone from Johnny. He picked up the IV kit and drug box, leaving the trauma kit for Johnny. Seconds later they were moving back to the ladder and the waiting ambulance.

~E!~E!~E!~

Johnny stuffed the last wrapper into the trauma kit and snapped its lid shut. He took a fast glance around at the motionless figures towering over the jungle background before standing up. Turning, he noticed that Roy and the others were moving quickly, but smoothly across the maze of rocks, ferns and other prehistoric plants. The weight of the little boy and oxygen cylinder barely noticeable to the men who carried the stokes. They would be at the edge of the diorama before he reached the halfway point.

Snatching up the kit in one hand and his helmet in the other, Johnny hurried to catch up, dodging around a large shattered stump. Must have been someone's late morning snack, he thought.

Loud roars and shrieks split the air, making everyone in or around the dinosaur pen jump as the quiet of the morning was once again shattered.

Johnny swung to his left as another roar filled his ears. Behind him, the clubbed tail of the Stegosaur cut through the air, ending its swing with a tap on the back of Johnny's legs.

The tap wasn't hard. It didn't really hurt him; he was at the edge of its swing radius. But it did throw him off balance.

He stumbled a few steps before tripping over a tangle of vines. The ground dropped away as he flew off the plateau, arms flailing in the air. The trauma box landed with a thud on the valley floor 20 feet below.

~E!~E!~E!~

"What the hell –" yelled Cap. "Turn those damn things off. We're still down here!"

On the ledge over his head, Cap could see a figure in brown coveralls race away from the crowd of people that had gathered around Mike and the ambulance attendants. He threw his hands up in disgust before turning back to check on Johnny's progress, "What is it with these guys?"

Cap's jaw dropped in disbelief. Johnny was flying off the artificial ledge into the closing jaws of the park's star attraction – Tyrannosaurus Rex.

The timing was amazing. In a movie it would have required hours of planning and setting of marks to accomplish the same feat.

But there were no movie cameras rolling, and this wasn't an intricate stunt.

By coincidence, and bad luck on Johnny's part, he had been in the right spot at the right time for the jaws of fate to close in on him.

"John!" yelled Cap, an edge of fear in his voice. Screams and gasps of shock from the crowd echoed around his words as they, too, saw the paramedic disappear into the dinosaur's mouth. A mouth that was closing, sharp teeth moving together to eventually form a mesh of metal.

The rest of his crew, startled, attention torn from the victim, looked back into the valley. They couldn't see Johnny. As one, their eyes followed Cap's horrified gaze.

The massive head of a T-rex, which they supposed had been stalking the Stegosaur, jutted forward on its thick neck, hovering 30 feet over the little valley, a mere 6 feet above the plateau they were on. It's jaws, filled with rows of teeth, were no longer open and empty. Blue clad legs dangled from the right side of its mouth, a dark-haired head and arm out the left.

As they watched, it swung from side to side, disappointed at missing its quarry. Johnny's limbs waved limply in counterpoint to each swing.

Cap snapped out of his shock first, pulling out his handi-talkie. "LA. This is Engine 51. We have a code I, man trapped. Respond a second ambulance and squad to this location."

Yelling over the noise, he called to his men, "Come on, let's get this boy out of here."

His words pulled the others back to their first priority – the civilian victim. Like the robots behind them, they moved the last few yards on autopilot, lifting the stokes up to Mike and the attendants.

"10-4. Engine 51. Squad 8 is responding. ETA 20 minutes."

Roy looked helplessly at Cap. He had no choice, and he knew it. Waiting the 20 minutes for Squad 8 to arrive and take over the care of the victim wasn't an option. The child needed to go to the hospital. And he needed to go now.

Cap grimaced, "I know, Roy. You've got to go. We'll take care of John until 8s arrives." He put a gentle hand on Roy's arm, nudging him toward the ladder.

The last few words rang across the display as the noise stopped mid-roar. The power was off again.

Unconsciously all eyes turned toward the cold reptilian head. Ears strained to catch a sound, any sound from the figure tangling in its mouth.

Silence. Not a moan or gasp.

Cap took advantage of the quieted crowd. "Vince! Get these people back. If the park manager is still up there, I need him down here. Otherwise find him and get him here." Pushing Roy toward the ladder he said, "Take a handi-talkie with you. If we need help before 8s arrive, we'll call. Chet, Marco, get over there and check on John." Looking up he called to a hovering Mike, "Make sure they've got that power locked out. Then get the ropes, K-12 and portapower."

With an anguished look, Roy climbed the ladder and followed his patient into the ambulance. The last thing he saw as the door closed was Marco and Chet running toward Johnny and the T-Rex.

~E!~E!~E!~

"Cap!" called Marco breathlessly as he returned. "We can't reach him! Its head is about 6 feet away from the edge and 4 feet up. Too far away."

"Could you see how John is?"

Marco shook his head. "That jaw is about 4 feet long by 3 feet wide. Johnny's right at the hinge.”

Cap turned to the Park Manager. "What's the sequence on that thing? If we start it up again, will it open its jaws?"

The Park Manager shook his head doubtfully. "It should have opened its mouth when it started the head shake..."

"Damn!" swore Cap. Taking a deep breath, he considered his options. "How do you service that thing?"

"We use a scissor-lift. But the guy who runs it isn't here today."

"Don't worry about that. All I need is for someone to show us where it is. Marco, get Chet back here."

"Right, Cap!" Marco took off across the plateau again.

"Do you have any specs on that thing? Plans?"

"Marshall, get over here. Wilson!" called the Park Manager. "Get the keys to the scissor-lift and meet Marshall in the Maintenance Yard. Have Sandy bring T-Rex's plans over here. " A curly headed man waved his hand and turned away from the railing to jump into one of the orange Park trucks. A blond man climbed down the ladder.

"Marshall, wait until – Chet is it?" at Cap's nod, he continued, "Until Chet gets here, then drive him to the Maintenance Yard and show him how to get the scissor-lift from there to here."

"Right, sir. It's going to take about 10 minutes to move it here. It doesn't go very fast," said Marshall.

Cap sighed. It would have to do. In the meantime, "How secure is that thing?"

Puzzled, the Park Manager asked, "What do you mean?"

As patiently as he could, Cap explained, "He said it's going to take 10 minutes to get that scissor-lift here. I want to get someone out to Johnny right now. If we can get a line around its neck, someone can traverse across. Will that thing stay upright?"

The Park Manager shook his head. "Doubtful. It took almost the whole day to get it balanced when we set up the display." He gestured toward Johnny. "With the added weight of the trapped man, it's probably already destabilized. Another person will likely tip it over."

Cap smacked his fist into his hand. This is turning into the rescue from hell. "Damn!"

Mike walked quietly up beside Cap. "Cap. What if we use the extension ladder? We can get it down into the valley, then lean it up against T-Rex's neck. That will counterbalance Johnny's weight."

Cap cocked his head to one side, thinking. "That might work. We'll need to check the distances."

Both Mike and Cap looked at the Park Manager. "Well, the neck's 10 feet from the edge by plomb line. The plateau is 20 feet high. The jaw's hinge at maximum extension like it is now, is 6 feet above that. You would need…" The man's voice faded as he did some calculations in his head.

"The 30 foot extension ladder," said Cap and Mike simultaneously. They didn't need to do calculations. The parameters, and limitations, of their equipment were deeply ingrained in their memories.

The Park Manager nodded. "You'll be able to get within about 4 feet. But there's no way you'll be able to free him. That jaw is jammed. You couldn't exert enough leverage to open it."

"I know. I know," said Cap. "That's why we need that scissor-lift. The ladder will give us a close look at the situation. We can make our plans while we wait for Chet to get back."

"And see if Johnny's still alive," Mike finished quietly.

Cap, catching the softly spoken words, nodded. "Okay, Mike. Grab a couple of the park workers to help you with the ladder. Wedge it up against the bottom of the cliff. I don't want to have two men down."

"Right, Cap," said Mike as he trotted back toward the engine.

Cap watched Mike for a moment before lifting his eyes to the engine. Marco already had one of the park workers helping him carry the stokes toward the railing. He could just make out the rectangular shapes of the portapower and K-12 cases positioned in the basket.

Good, thought Cap. Now we're getting somewhere. All we need is that scissor-lift and Squad 8.

He turned back to the dinosaur. As far as he could tell, Johnny still hadn't moved. And a whole lot of luck, he added.

~E!~E!~E!~

Roy looked at his watch. They were 10 minutes out from Rampart. He had tried to keep occupied my monitoring the boy's condition and reporting to Rampart. Everything was stable for the moment.

His mind flashed back to that last image of Johnny. A motionless, trapped Johnny. A Johnny he'd had to leave behind.

Damn! He shouted silently, staring at the IV bag slowly dripping the D5W into the boy's arm.

He wanted to call Cap and find out what was going on. But he couldn't. He had to wait for Cap to call him.

~E!~E!~E!~

Cap held his breath as the ladder clattered against the metal scales of the dinosaur. They had to extend the ladder fully and then tilt it into position. The dinosaur's scales and short forearms prevented them from following the conventional procedure of sliding it up.

The ladder rattled.

Cap nodded to himself. Mike was checking the stability. It hadn't moved.

"HT 51 to Engine 51. I'm heading up."

Cap acknowledged the call, then waited for Mike to come into view.

~E!~E!~E!~

Quickly, but carefully, Mike climbed the ladder rungs. The mottled gray and green neck of the T-Rex got closer with each step.

Am I glad this thing isn't for real, thought Mike as he paused to look up at the head above him. Ten more feet.

When his chest was even with Johnny's head, Mike stopped climbing. Stretching his left hand out, he balanced lightly against the dinosaur's jaw. He wasn't taking any chances with destabilizing it further. It felt strange standing upright on the ladder. Not something they encouraged in the Academy.

Now he had a good look at Johnny and his would-be muncher.

Johnny was lying with his body twisted, half on his chest and half on his left side. The only part of his left arm that Mike could see was the wrist. The rest of it was hidden behind two inch long, almost clenched teeth.

Mike was surprised. He had expected to see blood flowing down the dinosaur's metal teeth in rivers. There was blood covering the front and back of Johnny's shirt, but it seemed to be slowing.

Mike shivered when he remembered, Dead men don't bleed.

Taking a quick breath to calm his nerves, he laid his fingers on Johnny's neck, searching for the carotid artery and a pulse.

It was there. Faint. Fast. But there.

Mike turned his body slightly. Cap was on the plateau behind him, watching anxiously.

"He's alive!"

Cap sagged briefly in relief. Then he lifted the handi-talkie to his lips. "Engine 51 to Squad 51. He's alive."

Before he could utter another word, Roy's voice crackled through the air. "What's his condition?"

"Stand-by, Squad 51." Cap looked up at Mike. "Mike?"

Mike knew that this was no time to ration his words. Cap and Roy needed a complete rundown. "Pulse is 120 and weak, respirations 25 and shallow. It sounds like he's struggling to breathe. He's unconscious. Skin is slightly cool and clammy, " he paused, waiting for Cap to relay the information.

"The upper teeth are pressing into his left tricep and the lower part of the shoulder blade. The blood flow was moderate, and is slowing." Mike reached forward, checking the clearance between Johnny's back and the upper jaw. "Contact is minimal across the spine and right shoulder

"The lower jaw is pressing into his ribcage. It looks like the teeth were bent somehow. There's minimal bleeding. I'm pretty sure that the ribs are broken on the left, though."

Mike could hear Cap repeating his words to Roy as he moved down one rung and peered through the partially open jaw. "I can't really see his legs from here, but it looks like he has about 5 or 6 teeth imbedded across both outer thighs."

"Engine 51. Squad 51. Can you put some O2 on him?" asked Roy.

"Negative, Squad 51. We reached him by ladder. We'll have to wait for the scissor-lift before we can get any equipment out there."

Chet's voice emerged from the handi-talkie. "Engine 51. HT 51. I'm about 50 yards away along the cliff bottom. I'll be there in a minute."

"10-4, HT 51. Squad 51, do you copy?"

"10-4, Engine 51. Don't relieve the pressure on his legs until Squad 8 arrives," instructed Roy.

"10-4, Squad 51. We'll keep you advised."

The moment Mike had heard how close Chet was, he got ready to climb down. Before he released his hold on the dinosaur, he touched Johnny's neck lightly. "Hang in there, Johnny. We'll get you out soon."

There was no response. Both Johnny and his captor remained motionless.

Mike carefully dropped his hands back to the ladder. It was time to move the ladder out so Chet could get that scissor-lift in.

~E!~E!~E!~

Roy hovered near Rampart's base station, waiting.

The crackle of the handi-talkie made him jump. "Squad 51. Engine 51. Squad 8 is on scene. We'll have him free soon."

"10-4, Engine 51." Roy held the handi-talkie in front of him, wishing that he could follow his words back to Johnny.

~E!~E!~E!~

There wasn't much room on the scissor-lift. They'd only be able to fit the two paramedics from Squad 8 and Chet on it.

Mike repeated his rundown on Johnny to Scott McHood and Paul Slater, Squad 8's paramedics. "Those teeth are fairly flimsy. Aluminum according to the plans. Should be real easy to bend."

"Which is what you'll have to do," continued Cap. "The lower jaw is the one that moves. There's a good possibility that Johnny will roll forward when we jack the jaws apart.

Mike nodded, "It's the pressure of the jaws that are really holding him, not the teeth. They're about an inch or so long back there, with plenty of gaps."

"We'll use the mallet to flatten them while Chet positions the portapower," said McHood. "Then we'll put the backboard across and roll Johnny onto it. Before we do anything, though, we'll take a look at his legs. If any of those teeth have lacerated a vein or artery, we'll need another plan."

Slater, nodded. "One that turns us into paleo-dontists. 'Cause, if that's the case, we'll have to cut the teeth out of the jaws, and leave them in Johnny. The doctors will have to remove them."

Cap grimaced. "Let's hope you can do this the easy way."

~E!~E!~E!~

"Damn! What's taking them so long?" exploded Roy.

"Calm down, Roy. You know they're working as fast as the situation allows," reasoned Dixie. "I know you want to be back there with them. But you're not. And you're not doing yourself or Johnny any good by loosing your temper."

Roy opened his mouth to retort, eyes flashing.

Then the words sunk in. The anger left his face, replaced by the all-too familiar worried frown. "You're right. It's just that I feel so helpless here."

Dixie gave him a small smile. "Hey, we go through that every time one of you guys gets injured."

Dr. Brackett looked over from his position beside the base-station. "And some of you put us through it more often than others."

"Rampart, this is Squad 8. Do you read?"

Brackett jumped at the radio. "Go ahead, Squad 8."

"Rampart. Squad 8. We've got him. Vitals are Pulse 120, weak. Respirations 30, shallow, BP 98 over 69. Skin is cool and clammy. He's starting to go into shock."

"10-4, Squad 8. Start an IV with Ringers lactate. Administer 6 liters of O2".

"10-4, Rampart. IV with Ringers, O2 – 6 Liters."

A moment later, Scott McHood's voice was back. "Rampart. Squad 8. The patient has moderate bleeding from several one to two inch punctures on the outer thighs of both legs. We've applied compresses. There is slight to moderate bleeding on the upper left arm and across the shoulder blade, also from puncture wounds. Breathing is becoming increasingly labored, suspect a punctured lung from multiple rib fractures on the left side. Breath sounds are unequal, almost non-existent on the left. Patient is unconscious. Eyes are equal but sluggish. Slight response to painful stimuli. There is a large contusion behind the left ear."

"Squad 8, insert an airway and monitor his breathing closely. Repeat vitals every 5 minutes. Transport immediately."

"10-4 Rampart. We're readying him for transport. ETA 30 minutes."

~E!~E!~E!~

Hearing the door open, Roy looked over. Dixie smiled and walked over to stand beside his chair. She motioned toward the sleeping Johnny with her head. "How is he?" she asked softly.

Roy glanced at his watch. "He fell asleep about an hour ago. The guys were telling him all about his rescue from the dinosaur."

"Incredible, isn't it." Dixie said fondly, "Only Johnny Gage could get himself eaten by a dinosaur. I went out to Sonoma Park yesterday and saw that thing. How in the world did he avoid getting chopped into three pieces? Those jaws are enormous!"

Roy looked at Dixie, then at Johnny. He couldn't see the bandages that covered his thighs, shoulder and chest but he knew they were there. Brackett had had to operate to repair that lung.

Roy smiled, remembering Cap's description of what they had found in the dinosaur's jaw hinge. "You know how Johnny always seems to forget, or loose his helmet on a rescue?"

Dixie nodded. It was almost a standing joke – Johnny's concussions and head wounds almost equaled the number of helmets he went through each year.

"Well, he didn't forget it this time. He had it looped around his left wrist when he ended up on T-Rex's lunch menu." He shook his head in disbelief, "Somehow his helmet ended up against the hinge, jamming the gears, so the jaws couldn't close all the way."

He looked at Dixie. "Cap has it on his desk. It's sides are now 3 inches apart instead of 6. He's going to present it to Johnny when he comes back to work. Complete with a framed picture of it before they retrieved it."

Dixie laughed quietly. "For once, not wearing his helmet was the right thing to do. He definitely leads a charmed life."

"That he does," agreed Roy as Johnny peacefully slept on.