The Next Step

by Robin Weinrich

(A sequel to “The First Step”)

PART I: Relapse

Time meant nothing. It was as if the days were the same as minutes, hours the same as seconds. None of it mattered. He noticed the sunrises and sunsets. He heard the rain. Nevertheless, these moments slipped by one by one, never to impress him as they once did. He let out a sigh and glanced around the room, wondering if anyone noticed. They usually placed him by this window every afternoon, as part of the “schedule.” Maybe, he thought, I might even take interest. Not today, however, as he again sighed. It’s just another moment no different from the last. I only exist and that’s that, he concluded. A small tapping started at the window. He began to stare out at the rose bush, swaying against the glass. Its largest stem had several thorns that haphazardly climbed along its length. The tapping was irregular, guided by the gusty breeze that silently passed by. The thorns faded into a vision of the ladder that reached the top floor of the burning building . . .

. . . come on, Gage, you can find her. You heard her cry and you know she’s here. Just get in and get out, breathe in, breathe out and focus. His mind filled with all kinds of dialogue as he drifted from door to door. The large chalky “X’s” scratched across the doors seemed to beckon him further down the smoke-filled hallway. Hurry, Gage, hurry. What’s your problem? You should be out of this building by now! He concentrated on his breathing, mentally counting the precious seconds that ticked by and he was still unable to find her. Flames shot out from the doors ahead and a deep knot formed in his stomach. Man, this is not good; he contemplated quickly, pushing the fear back down. Then the flames parted and she was there. Draped in a white flowing gown she was stretched out in the hallway. Her arms and hands were reaching--she was waiting for him. HELP ME! It’s so hot! Help me! Please!

Suddenly, he stopped. The chalky “X’s” jumped off the doors and began dancing in the hallway--he rubbed his eyes. Wait a minute! What is going on? He willed for his legs to carry him down the rest of the hallway, but nothing happened. Come on, Gage! What’s the problem? She needs you! A victim is crying for your help! Don’t just stand there! Do something! He tried again, only this time, his arms wouldn’t move, either. Fear and panic rose quickly, unbidden and running wild within seconds. His turn-out coat began feeling warm. Sweat poured down into his eyes. She coughed and weakly raised her arm again. Help Me! Please, and she coughed again. He cried out as he struggled to tear himself from the place in the hallway where now, his body would not move. Dancing, chalky “X’s” continued to torment him. You are pitiful, Gage, what kind of fireman are you, anyway? Good God, man, you can’t let her die--you can’t!

Smoke filled the hallway and silently covered the woman as she drew her last breath. He dared to scream again and knew that now, only his voice and eyes were capable of movement. He could no longer feel the heat, or the tingling of his nerves. He no longer knew where the seconds went. He only cried. He couldn’t even move his head to hide his shame and tears. All he saw was his failure. She was dressed in white and now the flames and smoke claimed their final victim. The ladder moved away from the building. The dancing “X’s” disappeared in a puff of smoke. And Johnny Gage screamed once more . . .

“I don’t know, Jean. I think it’s time to try something else. We might need a different anti-depressant,” the face of Dr. Gordon filtered through the haze of his tears as the deep voice penetrated the daydream Johnny was in the middle of. He looked past Dr. Gordon to see Jean, his current nurse for the week, fumble with her clipboard.

“Johnny?”

Johnny blinked, causing the rest of his tears to course down his cheeks. Damn it, Gage, you let him see you again like this--weak, weak, weak! He tried to pull away as Jean touched a tissue to his face.

“Yea, Doc, what is it, now?” he sighed.

“I think I’m going to change your meds. Try to find a better balance for you.”

“Whatever,” I could care less, Johnny bit his lip. He remembered arriving several weeks ago at Santa Clara Valley Rehab Center with encouragement and resolve to move ahead from this injury. However, the depression began to settle in, despite his attempts to avoid it. The daily grind of living was harder than the most complicated rescue he had ever completed. He tried to keep Helen’s advice close to his heart and listen to Roy’s quiet, daily encouragement. But, just as the bullet ripped away his ability to move on that fateful day in the alley, so did his ability to stay strong from the waves of depression that relentlessly crashed in.

This past week had been especially difficult. Sleep was elusive while the nurses shifted him every four hours and replaced his catheter. The body knows when it’s time to turn while deep in sleep, however, since his brain no longer communicated with the rest of his body, the simple act of turning became a manual process. Add to the physical problems, Johnny couldn’t shake the phantom images that tortured him daily. Dr. Gordon blamed it on the need to find the right mix of medications that would stabilize Johnny’s mental health. Johnny didn’t believe that, only groaned, and grunted when the drug therapy was discussed. I just don’t care, anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I should’ve died that day.

*******

Roy peered in anxiously looking for his former partner’s position in the small, Spartan room. He thought the rehab center was a good place based on his many observations of other patients and how the staff interacted with them. He understood from Dr. Gordon that Johnny’s depression was typical at this stage, but Roy couldn’t stop feeling that his friend was slipping away from him. He took on the responsibility of arranging visits for Johnny and making sure that Johnny wasn’t alone. No matter how much Johnny said he didn’t want anyone around, Roy could see in his eyes a certain thankfulness that Johnny was unable to express verbally.

“Hey, Johnny,” Roy started, as he walked over to the corner that Johnny was settled in. The high-back wheelchair made Johnny appear smaller.

“Hi,” Johnny replied quietly.

“So, I understand you’ve made it past the prone wheelchair and they’ve got you in a vertical one today.”

Roy had been updated on the progress of the therapy. Keeping Johnny’s blood from pooling in his legs was critical until his body became accustomed to longer periods of vertical positions. The fact of an ever-present threat of a stroke had made this therapy even more critical.

“No comment, huh?” Roy queried.

Roy was also aware that his best friend would not be in the mood for chit-chat or small talk. That was the way it had been these past few weeks. Roy also went to counseling, learning how best he could support Johnny during this time. Helen, their new-found friend they met on a rescue, was also a quadriplegic and had been for almost 20 years. She became an important visitor for both Johnny and Roy and Roy was thankful for her reminders of small blessings and the possibilities of a full life despite Johnny’s physical challenges.

“Jenny drew this for you. She’s really hoping to see you, soon. I hope you’re still considering the visit. I think it will be good for both of you,” Roy stated quietly. He placed the crayon drawings on the wall, so that Johnny could see them.

“Nice, Roy,” Johnny sighed.

“So, what’s up?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Well . . . I know you and everyone else has been trying to keep me going, here . . .and . . . umm,” Johnny rolled his eyes and groaned. “I mean, . . well, I’m just not sure that this is working. I’m . . . just . . .not. .. Hell, I think I really fooled myself back at Rampart. I mean . . . “ he gasped with a large sigh.

“Johnny?” Roy looked deeply into the brown eyes full of sadness.

Johnny hung his head down, in obvious frustration and anguish. Roy cringed. He hated these moments and how they were bearing down hard on Johnny’s soul. He knew that Johnny was fiercely independent and this new path of dependence was crushing his friend’s spirit. Johnny always hated to depend on others or become a burden in any way. This was always quite evident in any of his recoveries from work-related injuries over the years.

“Roy, I just can’t live . . . like . . . this . . there, . . . I said it,” he whispered, looking directly at Roy, his jaw tight. Roy met his bleak stare. The depths of the man that was once Johnny Gage was no longer evident. Now, instead of the exciting and compassionate man that made him a good paramedic, an outstanding man and an even better friend, was the reflection of a man who died and never put to rest. Fear gripped Roy during that moment--a fear deep with a penetrating pain that he hadn’t felt in months. He recognized its pursuit of Johnny’s soul and his own fear grew more intense.

“Johnny, I don’t . . . “ Roy began.

“No, Roy, stop.”

“But you are not alone. I’m here with you.”

“Don’t . . .please, I can’t . . .” Johnny begin to breathe heavily.

The immediate act of reaching out to his best friend and gripping his arm came to an abrupt halt as Roy was reminded that it wouldn’t help and he hated that. He hated that Johnny could no longer feel a reassuring touch; a physical connection with another. In fact, he hated this whole situation and he was beginning to feel the edges of Johnny’s depression creep around his own heart.

“Look, I think we just need to move on one day at a time and focus on that electronic wheelchair. From what I saw, it seemed pretty nice.”

“Roy. . .”

“Just try it, okay? Dr. Gordon sounded like this last combination of meds will really help. Can’t you just . . .“

“Stop it! Just go, Roy . . .I’m tired and I want to go to bed. Just go home to your family, would’ya?” pleaded Johnny.

Roy stood up from the kneeling position he had ended up in. He stretched behind Johnny’s wheelchair and released the brake, moving him closer to the bed. Slowly, tenderly and with all the caution of holding a fragile piece of glass, Roy began the process of putting Johnny to bed. They both remained silent during a task that he was very good at—Johnny kept his eyes closed so that Roy couldn’t see the declining embers of life.

The floodgates of hopelessness continued to open up as Roy began the drive home after waiting for Johnny to fall into another restless sleep. He didn’t know what the next step would be, but he was determined not to fall into the same pit currently swallowing up his best friend.

PART II: Resuscitation

Okay, okay, fine, whatever they want. Maybe that’ll give me some ideas. Let’s see, I could run the thing into the street without anyone looking. Or, how about I find an outlet and run into it with the spokes. Hmmm . . maybe down some stairs and since I can’t feel anything --oh, that would be interesting . . .

“Johnny? How are you doing?”

Man, if they keep asking me that, I swear . . . he felt the anger swimming in the back of his head and he tried to focus on the nurse talking him.

“. . . ummm, I guess, okay,” Johnny was strapped into the newest chair operated with touch sensitive controls using a stylus and a finger control. Or rather, the latest attempt to indoctrinate me into “Club Quadriplegia!”

Jean and Dr. Gordon hovered over him as they encouraged him to test it out. They had been teaching Johnny the basic controls the past few days and today was the first test run. Roy stood off to the side, allowing them room to maneuver Johnny’s first attempts at steering forward, braking and rolling backwards. The movements were jerky at first but became smoother as Johnny concentrated on going through the motions. Yeah, let’s just get this over with. Give me a chance to explore my options.

Johnny Gage never had thought he’d reach this point. Dixie and Helen had visited yesterday and he set his jaw tight as he remembered their conversation.

“What happened, Johnny? You were ready to face this head on. Now, all I see is your old attitude,” Helen had inquired.

Johnny remained silent. He stared at a distant tree out the window--concentrating on keeping Helen and Dixie from penetrating his self-imposed mental exile.

“Johnny, let’s go outside, huh?” Dixie had prompted. She had moved to push Johnny toward the door, when he lashed out.

“Just stop it, both of you! Leave me alone, okay?”

Dixie looked shocked and Helen just looked sad. She commanded her chair forward to view Johnny’s profile in the light of the ebbing sunset.

“Look, here, young man. That was rude and downright ugly!” Helen lashed right back, matching Johnny’s gruff tone. “You better understand that we are here to help you--we said you would not go through this alone. I don’t care how hard you push; I’ve already been there, done that. And I’m pushing right back.”

“I deserved that,” he replied quietly.

He looked at both them with his sad eyes and tried to put on a better front for their sakes. However, at that moment, he realized that the daily grind to survive was wearing him down and he didn’t know where to find his last resolve. He felt helpless, yet again. He only . . . existed.

Yet again, he remembered. He loosened his jaw and closed his eyes. It was a simple solution really; he just needed to find a way to make it happen. After all, there was only so much he could do on his own. Now it was time to tell Roy.

“uh, Doc, could Roy and I venture outside for a bit?” Johnny asked hopefully.

Johnny’s demeanor took Dr. Gordon back. Johnny got the expected response, knowing that Dr. Gordon would grant the request if it made Johnny happier than his current state of gloominess.

“Roy, what do you think? Want to take him on a test run?” Dr. Gordon smiled.

“uh, sure Doc, sure!” Roy looked a little apprehensive, but was happy to comply.

“Okay, Junior, let’s see how these wheels work, huh?”

Johnny awkwardly urged the chair forward. The automatic doors to the Rehab Center opened right on cue and the two men took in the fresh air. Oh, I could almost feel that breeze, the warmth on my hands, and the prickly sensation of these open spaces on my skin . . . no, damn it! Almost is not good enough!

The sidewalk turned into an interesting path as Johnny learned to negotiate the cracks and crevices along the route. Roy walked beside him and they slowly made their way to the open park along the side of the center. Trees peppered the landscape hovering over plots of brightly colored flowers. Cascading water fell over rocks into a pond that was home to several varieties of fish and turtles. Roy was quiet, taking in the fresh air while playing with the blade of grass he’d picked up. They stopped in front of the terraced wall filled with ivy and sweet-smelling honeysuckle bushes. He respected Johnny’s need for whatever peace he could find. As he looked at his weathered friend, he watched Johnny’s face set in a resolved mask.

“You know, whatever it is that’s bothering you, I mean . . . “ Roy stammered. It had never been hard to talk with his best friend before, however, today Roy felt at a loss for words. He couldn’t imagine the depth of despair that was so evident in Johnny’s mood of late, but he certainly felt the pain. “I just want to help, Johnny,” he stated simply.

Johnny continued to stare at the moving water of the small pond. He felt Roy’s sympathy and he understood. He’d often think about what it would’ve been like had their roles been reversed. He concluded that it didn’t really matter. He was glad that Roy was still healthy and able to carry on taking care of Joanne and the kids. Johnny had no other family and now he was more of a burden to Roy then he would ever be comfortable with. Johnny’s resolve faltered a bit as he contemplated his next move.

“Roy,” he began quietly. “I know that I’ve been an ass lately, but I’m just not going to apologize. I don’t know where I am anymore, who I am,” he took a deep breath, “or whether I even need to be here.” There, I said it aloud. Just accept it, Roy, he thought.

Roy looked hard at his friend. He couldn’t believe he just heard Johnny’s deepest thought. “Johnny . .?”

“You heard me, Roy. I’ve already told you . . I can’t live like this. I’ve tried putting this away, and I’m tired. Tired of the constant ‘what can I do for you next’ comments, the drugs, having to think about how I’m going to get from point A to point B. I’m just here, taking up space, growing more agitated and angry--and don’t tell me I need more drug therapy. I don’t want to do this . . .Roy . . I . . “ Johnny took another breath and clenched his eyes shut. He blinked back the tears and looked at Roy again. “ . . I can’t do it,” he whispered.

“Oh, God, Johnny,” Roy got down on his knees and was eye level with Johnny. All his years of medical training and rescue work, all his experience with a wide array of personalities and even his years in the army never prepared him for this. The raw emotion, despite the drugs Johnny was taking, was so hurtful to watch and hear. Roy didn’t know how he could help. Roy didn’t know how to resuscitate his drowning partner from the shoreline of anguish.

“Johnny,” he took Johnny’s cold hands into his own and looked into the man’s dark eyes. “All I know, Johnny, all I feel and understand about you, is that you have so much more to give. You will find a way and I’ll help you find it. You’ve got to give this a chance. Johnny, you cannot say that your life has no value, no worth. None of us can do that,” Roy hesitated as he watched a moment of indecision flicker across Johnny’s face. “You can do this, Johnny.”

Johnny almost believed him. He desperately wanted to find an answer to his morbid sense of a gloomy daily life. He tried to latch on to Roy’s words, but the blackness of defeat shrouded his sensibilities. He could only see the dark pit and the sense of relief it offered him—the freedom.

“I should’ve . . . died that day, Roy.”

“No, Johnny, no,” Roy whispered. His soul ached with new pain for his friend. What am I going to do?

“Are you going to help me find relief from this suffering?” Johnny came right out and forcefully moved ahead, “I need your help. My life has already been taken from me.”

Roy just stared at his best friend. And he saw nothing but torment.

*******

He lugged the wet hose over his shoulder and began climbing the tower. The afternoon sun hung low on the horizon as the day’s heat began to disappear. He anxiously reached the top and slung the heavy canvas over the rail. Sweat dripped from his unruly hair and he took a moment to run his hand over his brow, exhaling with relief as he realized that the shift would soon be over.

The sun started hugging the horizon even closer and he glanced at the wondrous sight. Suddenly, he felt his heart jump as a voice called to him through the dusky sky. “Come, run with me, my son. Come feel the heat of the wild mustang as he runs through the valley. Come and let the coolness of the stream heal your burdened heart, my son. Come, run with me . . .”

“Mama?” he called, uneasy and nervous. Why would he hear this? What did it mean?

A rush of wind swept him off the tower and he found himself leaping with the gusty breezes. It didn’t matter anymore that solid earth was no longer under his feet. All that mattered was that he was free. More free than he had ever felt his entire life. The law of gravity or the law of conformity and physical boundaries no longer bound him.

“Yes, my son, yes . . . let yourself go. Come with me and see the joy of our fathers before us,” the breezy voice continued to urge him on.

Waves of ecstasy and fulfillment coursed through his being and he used his arms to embrace all of the images before him. The images flashed from rows of wheat and corn, to the rumble of the wild mustang herd moving through the plain. An eagle soared beside him and he stretched his legs even further so he wouldn’t lose pace. Time stopped as his feet landed on the highest mountaintop.

“Come, my son. Come now,” she urged.

He breathed deeply enjoying the sensation of that simple physical act. It had been so long since he could do that without pain and effort. He wiggled his fingers and watched as the hummingbirds flitted about, teasing his senses. He looked down from the mountain and extended his leg over the edge. The excitement of feeling his muscles move caused him to cry. He shed large tears and let himself fall . . . everything turned black.

Johnny shuddered as his dream shattered with the sound of the buzzer across the hallway. The incessant sound repeatedly gave rise to Johnny’s agitation. He groaned and shut his eyes again as he realized the euphoria of his dream was gone and so was his moment of freedom. Footsteps echoed in the dim hallway as one of the nurses tended to the buzzer from the patient across the way.

Johnny looked toward the window, trying to lose himself in whatever fantasy he could find from his current reality. Sleep had been fleeting tonight after his “discussion” with Roy that afternoon. Things did not go as well as he had hoped, but at least Roy now knew. Johnny found small satisfaction in that. In fact, after Roy escorted him back to the Rehab Center from the park, he was clearly not going to discuss it with him anymore. Roy was surprised and then he seemed angry as he bid farewell. Johnny noticed his best friend’s attempt at holding together his feelings in front of everyone else. Again, Johnny found small satisfaction that now Roy was experiencing part of his own dark world.

However, Johnny felt regret at involving his friend in his decision. He was already more of a burden then he wanted to be and he was now more resolved than ever to finish his dark plan. With or without Roy’s help, he would find a way to freedom.

*******

“I can’t dance, I can’t have sex, hell, I can’t even hold a blade of grass!”

“Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

“There’s nothing left to be afraid of.”

“Is this freedom?”

“I won’t be interrupting people’s lives anymore. It will be a relief that no one has to worry about me again.”

“So, you think that this is the right answer?”

“Don’t I have a right for dignity?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve lost my independence . . . my dignity . . . ”

Helen looked at the man before her. He cast his dark eyes downward, hoping to avoid her gaze. She kept insisting just by sitting there with a silent, long pause. She had come to visit again, finding Johnny in yet another dark mood. However, this time, it was more than a mood. It was determination. A determination that she had not seen in him since they left Rampart so many months ago. Only now, this new fortitude was about death, not a new journey in life.

“Johnny, I’m not going to give you permission to do this. Isn’t that what you’re asking?”

Johnny raised his head and fought to keep the anger at bay. “All I’m asking for is some understanding and . . . well . . . forget it,” he sighed in resignation.

“What is it, Johnny?” She urged.

He clenched his jaw. “I was hoping for some help.”

Helen just looked at him in disbelief. Maybe because of their similar conditions, he thought she would be more willing to assist him, but she was shocked that after all their visits and time together that he still didn’t see value in his own life. She tried again.

“Oh, Johnny, don’t you remember your first step in this journey?” She replied.

“Helen . . .“

“No, Johnny . . . you must remember that first step. Find that glimmer of hope again so you can get to the next step. Please? You have to think about the rest of us—what will our lives be like without you?” She pleaded, hoping to reach the young man who used to have the best crooked grin she had ever seen.

Johnny simply gave a small nod to Helen and then turned his chair around and headed back down the quiet hallway. Helen began to call out but clamped down on the urge. She had to give him time and despite the newly enacted 24-hour watch placed on Johnny since he first revealed his dark thoughts to Roy, she could not shake the feeling she had that she wouldn’t see him again.

*******

“He hasn’t handled the transition from the walking world, to the world he is now in.”

Roy looked at Dr. Gordon with understanding. He was anxiously searching for ways to fend off Johnny’s dark storm. Dr. Gordon continued. “Until he accepts his physical disability, he will always be broken, depressed.”

Roy shook his head and stood. “Well, I guess I just keep trying, right?”

Dr. Gordon stood with Roy and nodded agreement. “I’ve seen lots of patients pull through this.”

“How many haven’t pulled through?”

“They didn’t have friends and family. They didn’t have support. Johnny has both and just from my few months of observation, I would say that he has more than most. He just hasn’t recognized it, yet. I have to remain hopeful.”

“Of course,” Roy headed toward to the door. “By the way, I have until Sunday night, right?” Roy was hopeful that Johnny’s visit with the family arranged weeks ago would lift his spirits and remind Johnny what was really important—his family and how much they loved Johnny. Dr. Gordon had agreed to let Johnny have a weekend trip out of the Rehab Center under Roy’s supervision. They both felt it would help Johnny to be in a different environment, if only for a couple of days. Johnny protested at first, but relented after learning he had no choice

Dr. Gordon’s pager sounded as he began to respond to Roy’s query.

“Excuse me, Roy, just a moment,” he said as he walked to the wall phone and pressed the button. “Dr. Gordon . . . yes, . . . okay, get me a new set of vitals and I’ll be right there.” He turned towards Roy.

“I’m afraid our young friend has developed a high fever—we may have to postpone his visit. Let’s go.”

Roy and Dr. Gordon made their way to Johnny’s room and immediately observed his sweaty brow and damp hair. The attending nurse turned upon their arrival and handed the chart to Dr. Gordon. After a brief review, he leaned in towards Johnny.

“Johnny, can you hear me?”

Johnny could only move his head weakly back and forth, brow furrowed and lips parted with no sound as if he were caught up in a terrifying dream that wouldn’t let go. Roy took the cloth warmed by Johnny’s fever and refreshed under the cool stream of water from the sink. The nurse finished another vitals check while Dr. Brown continued to assess Johnny’s condition. He placed orders for a round of antibiotics, cooling measures and vitals checked every hour. Johnny continued to be unaware of the ministrations around him.

“Doc?” Roy asked.

“It appears that Johnny’s picked up something. His lungs are okay right now—we’ll keep a close watch. If he doesn’t improve we’ll have to send him to Rampart, but let’s just see,” Dr. Gordon replied.

Roy’s fearful gaze softened as he watched Johnny struggle to open his eyes. Roy went to him and let him know he was there for him. Johnny’s eyes were glazed but a small smile flitted across his face and he sighed. He closed his eyes again shutting out the annoying lights.

“I guess . . .Joanne . . ‘ll have to . . . send me . . .leftovers,” he whispered, fighting the urge to cry in hopelessness over the latest weak moments he was feeling.

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always food at our house—you know that. Just rest—let the meds do their thing. We’ll arrange this visit later this month.”

“. . .kay . . Roy . . .I’m . . “ Johnny’s breath hitched, and he opened tear-filled eyes. “ I . . .can’t . . .do this anymore. . .make it stop . . “

Roy’s own anguish threatened to spill from his very being. Watching his best friend, no, his brother suffer so much was getting to him. As strong as he needed to be to support Johnny, he was feeling the floor sliding out from under him. The pit of despair was murky. Roy’s heart felt broken under the weight of Johnny’s ordeal and his inability to help him find the light through all the dark days and nights of what was now Johnny’s life.

What would it take to recover his brother’s life?

*******

Johnny endured a week of fever, headaches and the general complaints from a bad case of pneumonia. Dr. Gordon had consulted with Dr. Brackett and they decided to keep Johnny at the Rehab Center with consistent monitoring and IV antibiotics. During this time, Johnny continued to increase his determination to see through his plan to end his miserable life. Between the pain of the pneumonia and the breathing treatments, his agitation and anxiety increased. It didn’t matter what new pill Dr. Gordon gave him—nothing improved inside his fretful head and his burdened heart.

Roy’s visits were the same routine. Small talk, updates on the family, interesting runs and updates on the guys at the station. In Johnny’s current mental state, Dr. Gordon felt it best to limit the number of visitors trying to cheer him up. Johnny needed focused attention from a select few closest to Johnny—Johnny was glad that Dr. Gordon honored that part of his current therapy. He would certainly go crazy if he had to endure Chet’s platitudes and the many well wishes from the rest of the gang—it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate them or what they were trying to do—it was just tiring and frustrating to hear the same things over and over again. His mind was set.

In fact, toward the end of his ordeal with the pneumonia in his weakened state he made the decision to starve himself. There was no sense in prolonging the misery for himself and his friends. Enough was enough.

I’m already skin and bones; it won’t be long now. Johnny was satisfied with his plan—even though he knew that Roy would fight it, he still had control over his own pitiful body and he was done—through with it all—as he decided weeks ago—he should have died. Johnny truly hit the bottom. He had given up and nothing Roy, Dr. Gordon or even Helen could say would change his mind. He simply refused to eat.

The final IV was taken out and Johnny watched the nurse with casual disinterest as she bandaged the vein. The sleeping pills were beginning to take hold and Johnny felt the edge of sleep begin to crawl through his tired brain.

“Johnny, I’ve got some chicken broth for you and some coffee. Why not try a few sips?” the nurse encouraged, well aware of Johnny’s third day of refusing to eat anything.

He lazily smiled at her. He knew they had to keep trying. He closed his eyes without a word to her indicating his decision. She sighed, wrote in his chart and lowered the lights as she left his room.

Sleep finally came and the phantoms of despair embraced Johnny’s thoughts.

“It won’t be long now.”

“What a waste. All those dollars on training and procedures. What a waste!”

“Who knew he didn’t have the guts to stick it out?”

“Yellow-skinned—he isn’t worthy to call himself a red-skin!”

The voices were familiar yet mocked him in ways that he never knew possible. Was that Mike and Marco? Couldn’t be . . . yet . . .and it was Hank . . .Chet? Roy? Not Roy!

“And I even picked him to be my partner—what a sham!”

They all peered down at Johnny as Johnny struggled to lift himself from the forces trapping him in this current nightmare. The winds of anger, disappointment and disgust whipped around him and the faces of his friends, his brothers disappeared.

“Cap? Roy? . . .What?”

“We gave you our hearts, our trust. And all you can do is throw it all out and give up. What a sorry excuse for a man! How did we ever call you our brother? You’re a quitter, Gage, a whining quitter! Well, just go ahead and quit, then. We’ll find a real man, a real brother, someone who can handle it and honor our trust. Damn it, Gage, you really think this is only about you!” Roy’s anger exploded and Johnny’s world became an ocean of fear, dread . . . and awakening.

Johnny’s soul broke in half—one half was floating under the water of the paralysis and his other half tried to hold himself up in the walking world. Part of his soul refused to go under—holding fast to the shoreline of the normal walking world. I’m tired of treading water; I’m tired of the months of flailing about in the dark; I never wanted to hurt my family, my brothers, Roy. Johnny didn’t think it was that easy to just let go of that shoreline. He simply surrendered. His soul cried out as it sunk below the deep dark waters of the unavoidable world of paralysis. The embers of despair also sunk and were extinguished. A bolt of joy ran through Johnny.

He shuddered and his hand slowly gripped the soft sheet of his bed.

******

The lights in the living room were soft and an atmosphere of home and intimacy clearly surrounding the four friends as they sipped coffee and continued their dinner conversation with after-dinner drinks.

“I don’t know . . .it just feels like an intervention of some sort,” Dr. Brackett said slowly. Dixie rubbed his shoulder and made a sad smile.

“Kel, he’s just not mentally grasping the big picture. He can only focus on his daily struggles. We’ve got to do something, somehow?” Dixie responded.

“But to just yank him back into a more restrictive environment? I don’t think that’s right.”

Roy shifted his hand from Joanne’s lap and sighed. The last few nights for him were almost sleepless. His dreams about the shooting began to creep back into small nightmarish images. He was feeling somewhat relaxed after enjoying his wife’s lasagna and the company, but as their conversation kept coming back to Johnny’s current situation, he found those images flashing intermittently even during the day.

“Uh, Doc, is it possible that Johnny is truly in a psychiatric crisis?” he queried with worry.

“I think that if he doesn’t start reversing his current state of mind then he is certain to face a breakdown, from which we may never see a recovery from.” Dr. Brackett clenched his jaw in his usual non-verbal way of showing his distress.

Joanne could only shake her head—her heart was devastated by the news that Johnny was looking to end his life. She loved him like a brother and he was such a big part of their family. It had been almost three months since the shooting and the children still had not seen their “Uncle Johnny.” This added to her grief over Johnny’s tragic turn of his life. Johnny always had such a simple, embracing way of accepting her family and delighting in the joy of their lives. Now, he simply was unable to participate on his own choice and by choice of his physical disability.

Sensing her quiet struggle, Roy draped his arm over her shoulder and brought her closer to him. They had each other to lean on and together they took each moment to reassure each other of that strength.

“I guess we just need to make a decision and stick with it. For better or for worse . . . “ Joanne’s words drifted into the quiet air.

“Well, I know one thing. This “hunger strike” he’s playing is wearing thin on my nerves. I hope our meeting with Dr. Gordon will gives us some access to Johnny. I think we need to really surround him now with our physical visits and emotional support,” Dixie stated firmly.

Roy stood up and stretched. “Coffee, anyone?”

“Actually, Roy, we’ve got to get going. Early shift tomorrow,” Dr. Brackett announced.

Dixie uncurled her legs from the plush sofa and stood up with Dr. Brackett. She walked over to Roy and hugged him tightly. She knew that Roy was suffering in his own way dealing with Johnny on a daily basis. The dark circles under his eyes told the story of restless sleep and waning strength.

“We’re not going to lose him, Roy. Just hang on and we’ll find a way to get through to him,” she said quietly. “Joanne, dinner was wonderful, as always.”

“Thanks, Dixie. Anytime. The kids sure enjoyed the books you brought. Thank you.”

“I love doing it. You take care of yourself, too,” Dixie smiled and gave Joanne a hug.

After the front door closed, Joanne turned to Roy.

“What is it, Roy?”

“Just having a hard time with some flash backs from the shooting. My counselor said some of it is due to Johnny’s issues right now. I don’t know . . .” Roy slowly made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. “I know that we finally got the whole story of how it all happened, but part of me is just . . .so . . .I guess I’m tired and seeing Johnny hitting bottom like this is . . . “

Joanne rubbed his back as they both casually laid on the bed. Roy shifted to his side and hugged his pillow feeling the comfort of his wife breathing softly on his neck, rubbing his back. It was a warm feeling and he could feel his muscles starting to loosen. Joanne inched closer and hugged Roy’s back. Roy’s eyes began to flutter close and the last conscious thought he had was Joanne wrapping both of them into their comforter.

The waves were relentless. Sprays of salt and water etched into his back much like a whipping from an old Roman flagrum. The water acted like leather thongs that bit into his flesh and the salt was like the bone fragments from the whip that bored into his flesh scoring it into shreds. Blood oozed from the open wounds and Roy shivered from the pain. Yet, when he opened his mouth to scream nothing happened. Fingers of kelp began to entwine Roy and pulled him into the darker recesses of the water. As he was pulled under he lost all feeling due to the beating of his body. Oh my God! I can’t feel my legs. My arms . . he could only struggle with his head and shoulders and the panic rose quickly as he realized that he was no longer in the walking world but sinking into the unknown.

Suddenly, the defibrillator appeared and the paddles inched closer to Roy—he was unable to move and unable to scream—he was a prisoner in the murky depths of paralysis and there was no escape. Now, his entire sensibilities were focused on the electric current flowing between the two paddles. He could not see whose hands held those paddles—the blurry images of tragedy, screams and pain filled his brain as he relived the day of the shooting, the day of uncertainty, the day of guilt and fear for himself and for his brother.

The paddles were firmly planted on his chest and this time his scream was heard—the waters parted, his mouth opened to find precious oxygen and then he saw him. Johnny was walking to him, smiling. It’s gonna be okay, Roy. Just be still. Johnny continued to grin, the electrical current surged through Roy, and his own scream jolted him awake.

“Roy? Roy, are you okay?”

Roy licked his lips and shakily sat up. “Something’s happening. I don’t know . . . I need to see Johnny.”

Joanne learned many years ago that the bond between Johnny and Roy was deep and sometimes defied explanation. With the latest events in their lives, it was certainly inevitable that each of them would feel and know more than even they understood. She sensed that Roy was looking for peace.

“Go. I’ll be right here. Don’t worry about me. Just worry about you . . and Johnny.”

“I love you,” he said with a kiss and quickly dressed to head back to the Rehab Center. He paused as he got into his car. He took a moment to relish the feeling of walking and using his legs and arms. His dream was too real, too close. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something happened, but he wasn’t sure what. He took another deep breath enjoying the fact that there was no electrical current—but he certainly felt a sense of revival, maybe even recovery, from the depth of death’s door. He felt the need to get to Johnny, quickly. Oh, Johnny, please . . . please, just hang in there.

PART III: Resolution

Based on the haggard look on Roy’s face, Jean, the night duty nurse, worried that his middle-of-the-night visit with Johnny wouldn’t help either one of them. Dr. Gordon’s standing orders were to allow Roy 24/7 access to Johnny especially during Johnny’s current medical crisis both mentally and physically.

“He refused food again. I don’t know what else we can do,” she said as Roy signed in.

“Well, I’m at a loss too, but I just need to check on him.”

“We gave him a sedative—I haven’t heard anything from him tonight. Nothing.”

Roy entered the darkened room and suddenly became aware of something he hadn’t heard in a long time. Months, in fact. It was Johnny sleeping . . . sleeping in a normal rhythm, a sound that took Roy back to the nights at the station when he felt at peace and comforted that all things were normal in their lives. Johnny’s even measures of breathing were simply that—calm and unfettered by nightmares, restlessness and anger.

Roy looked back at Jean. “I think I’m just going to camp out here for the rest of the night.”

Jean wasn’t sure what she saw across Roy’s features, but she knew that it was important to Roy. “Can I get you a blanket or pillow? Those chairs aren’t very comfortable.”

Roy filed through the many other memories of sitting by Johnny’s bedside worried about his best friend’s health. “I’m good. Thanks, Jean.”

The door shut and only the soft lights from the street seeped through the closed curtains of Johnny’s room. Roy pulled the recliner closer to Johnny’s bed, careful to not disturb the intoxicating sound of his normal sleeping experience. Roy settled in and without knowing exactly why he was there, something inside his soul stirred that hadn’t in a long time concerning his best friend, his brother. And he needed to see Johnny’s eyes to confirm or deny his latest soul searching.

*******

It was a solitude that frightened him as much as the prospect of never walking again. The fact that he inwardly turned toward the easier path, a withdrawal from the existence that he loved and embraced while part of the walking world, seemed to hypnotize him toward a place that he would never recover from. And from his lifeline of family he began to feel the bars of his self-imposed prison suffocate his own fierce independent spirit away from this life. Was it the Grandfather Spirit of his Lakota heritage that finally answered his own questions about his current journey with his dream? Was it the bonds of a friendship so deep and permanent that an actual physical manifestation was born? No matter how it came to be, it was this morning, in the early twilight hours of the sun breaking though the gloomy, low clouds of night that Johnny felt a sense of recovery, and decisions had to be made.

Those thoughts hovered around Johnny’s arousal from a satisfying and pleasant sleep. Despite the pain of hunger deep in his belly, he was smiling as he found his best friend snoring in the chair beside his bed.

He tried to clear his parched throat. “Roy . . . hey . . . Roy,” he managed to croak with a low morning voice etched with remnants of last night’s sedative.

Roy opened his eyes and abruptly sat up, looking at Johnny with eyes filled with sleep and hope. Johnny’s grin grew wider. He didn’t wonder why Roy was here. He simply knew that it was right and it felt good. Better than the feelings of relief he had when he knew that Roy was not responsible for his injuries.

“Hey there, Pally,” Roy responded affectionately.

Johnny stretched and rolled his neck. “Hey there, yourself. You look a little stiff.”

“Yeah, what d’ya expect when all you can offer me is a chair.” Roy smiled. Johnny was enjoying the easy banter and cringed when his stomach made the next remark.

“Uh, sounds like you might want to have some breakfast this morning,” Roy said hopefully.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Johnny said softly.

Roy bounced away from Johnny’s bedside to call the nurse. He happily reported that Johnny was ready from some breakfast. He quickly made his way back to Johnny’s side hoping that this current peaceful and optimistic state of Johnny’s would stay.

Johnny looked at him and smiled again. “Roy . . .um . . .” Johnny began, not sure what he wanted to say. He new it was a new day and he was experiencing feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite the peacefulness and joy he had having Roy with him, he was beginning to feel awkward—how do you explain all that’s floating in my head, he wondered.

“Oh, you’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Roy had answered, assuming that Johnny was going to ask the questions.

“Actually . . .” Johnny shrugged slightly as Roy interrupted him.

“I’m not really sure myself, but something jolted me awake and I just had to come see you. I felt panicked and unsure. You’ve not been yourself these last few weeks. You were really beginning to scare me with this hunger strike.” Roy admitted.

Johnny felt sorrow and shame over his behavior as Roy spoke. As the veil had been lifted from his spirit this morning, he could see clearly the hurt and disappointment that Roy carried on his shoulders. Not only did he feel awful that he wasn’t coping with his new path with some decorum or strength, but he had also dragged Roy with him through the walls of his prison.

“I’m sorry, Roy.” He said simply.

Roy looked at him. “Let’s just move forward, huh?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Johnny said with a stronger confidence in his voice. He let out a sigh and leaned back into the plush pillows. As he relaxed he felt the twitch.

He gasped. Roy immediately jumped not knowing what to expect.

Johnny felt it again in his fingers and he was stunned. “Roy . . . “ he whispered with a quiver in his voice.

“Johnny?”

“Oh my God, Roy, I . . .” Johnny took a breath, “ . . .I . . . I felt something!”

“What?”

“Roy, my fingers!”

Roy looked down and began to tremble. He saw movement in Johnny’s fingers and he placed his own hand over Johnny’s right one to confirm for himself that this was not a dream.

“Roy . . . I think I feel your hand,” Johnny choked out.

*******

There was a buzz all afternoon in Dr. Gordon’s office. The staff always appreciated a turn around in a patient’s demeanor and in Johnny’s case, it was just sweeter than normal. There was always something a little more special about firemen and policemen or anyone who served in dangerous public service jobs that tugged at their hearts. Knowing that these dedicated men and women would never function in that capacity again when they arrived at the Rehab Center seemed to damper some of their enthusiasm. While Dr. Gordon and the entire staff always held the belief that anything was possible in spinal cord injuries, very few actually went back to their former lives.

Dr. Gordon had certainly seen the movement in Johnny’s fingers and noticed too that Johnny was pulling out of his depression. The fact that Johnny was truly trying to come to terms with his condition spoke volumes of the buried determination that Dr. Gordon had heard about from the staff at Rampart and from Roy. He was glad to see Johnny’s growth these last few days.

Sitting in the office with him was Roy, Dr. Brackett and Johnny himself. The high backed powered wheelchair that held Johnny was positioned so that he could see the other three men. Decisions had to be made and Johnny was thankful for the opportunity to have them all meet together.

“Johnny, we’re going to get back to your regular therapy sessions. Dr. Brackett feels that with a few more days of rest, you’ll be back to your basic strength levels before this bout with pneumonia,” Dr Gordon stated. He purposely left off his comment about Johnny’s self imposed hunger strike.

“Doc, what about my fingers?” Johnny asked.

“Well, it has been over six months since the injury and after such a traumatic event not only can the swelling fade, but therapy can bring some sensations back for patients. It’s never the same for each patient.”

“Dr. Gordon, do you think any other movement is possible?” Roy queried.

“Roy, Johnny, as exciting as this development is, we just don’t know. But, we can work with what is happening now to try and increase and encourage more movement,” Dr. Brackett added. “The key is that we don’t let your muscles atrophy.”

“In fact, Johnny,” Dr. Gordon started and came around to sit on the front of his desk to look directly at Johnny. “I’d like you to consider a rather new experimental surgery that has shown promising results this past year.”

Johnny looked at Roy and saw a glimmer of interest in his friend’s hazel eyes. The struggle these past months had been tiring emotionally, mentally and physically for both of them. Johnny was finally able to start thinking a little clearer about his next step, but felt tangled up in a web of false hopes and whispers of a normal life that he was working to suppress and work on building his acceptance of his new life. This option now seemed to make those whispers louder. He was sure Roy heard the same whispers.

“Um, Doc, I’m really not sure what to think,” Johnny admitted.

“Understandable, Johnny—I know. It’s just that being a young man, fit and able prior to this injury and fitting the profile, I just thought that it would be something to really consider. Especially now that I feel I can talk with you about this without worrying about giving you false hope.” Dr. Gordon’s confession related to the fact that Johnny’s depressed emotional state of late was not the ideal environment to give Johnny potential false hope.

Johnny once again felt the regret and shame of his past behavior, even though the counseling staff continued to encourage him that this was just part of the journey. Emotional phases happened and Johnny’s depression was considered normal despite the depths it plunged Johnny down to.

“So, what’s the procedure?” Johnny finally asked.

Dr. Brackett picked up the conversation. “Well, it is a process whereby electrode implants are put into each arm and then a stimulator is put within each side of the chest wall. Since your brain is not receiving those signals, then the electrodes would do the work.”

“Slight turns of your head will trigger the electrical impulses and we’ll train your hands and arms to respond accordingly. Dr. Gordon continued. “There have been several successful surgeries last year. “

Johnny actually felt that it was something he could deal with. He felt something that had eluded him since leaving Rampart; he begin to hear stronger whispers of . . .hope.

Roy had remained quiet during the proposal and only watched as Johnny absorbed the possibilities of further movement in his arms. While the procedure sounded harmless enough, he knew that it would be another long road of therapy and work. He wasn’t sure Johnny was up to making this kind of decision anytime soon. However, he had to admit that seeing Johnny’s curiosity and interest peaked right now had certain gratifying affects on his heart.

Johnny closed his eyes and reminded himself how his twitching fingers felt. Everyone in the office remained quiet as Johnny processed the new proposal behind his closed eyes. The jolts of feeling filtered from those twitches in his hand traveled to Johnny’s heart and senses and reignited his pursuit for a better ending to this journey. He opened his eyes.

“Tell me what to do to get ready,” he said simply and resolutely.

*******

Life began to take on a sense of normalcy for Johnny Gage. Since the day he made the decision for the electrode surgery he had worked twice as hard during his regular therapy to prepare for the implants. He had a special recumbent bicycle routine three times a week along with grueling pool exercises, physical therapy and his continued life skills counseling. It was six weeks of this intense schedule to build Johnny’s strength and muscle tone for the surgery. The surgery came and was uneventful and Johnny responded well to the physical stress.

The turnaround in Johnny’s recovery allowed for the rest of his friends to visit regularly. In fact, once Johnny came to grips with his situation, he found it easier to let go of his old hopes of walking and learned to relax more with his friends while learning about his new capabilities.

Marco would bring food weekly for him to enjoy. Mike would come every few days to play board games with him and catch him up on the latest in the department. Hank would come and just sit and talk. It was a nice way to see the personal side of his Captain and Johnny felt pangs of regret and jealousy when some of the rescue stories he told were intense. But, he would always remind himself that these men, his brothers, were keeping him in the loop in order to keep him focused on his new goals. Even Chet participated in Johnny’s recovery. He actually began an aluminum can recycling drive with the Chief’s okay to use the local fire stations as drop off points for the cans. Despite Chet’s resistance to begin recycling efforts six months ago per Johnny’s suggestion, it seemed now that Johnny’s new life inspired Chet to do something that would be meaningful for Johnny. In fact, during one of Roy’s many visits, Johnny learned that the cans could be turned in to a local metal manufacturing plant in exchange for money and that Chet had started a benefit fund for Johnny’s medical bills. It left Johnny filled with gratitude and shame that he actually was serious about ending his life.

After the surgery, Johnny was back at the Rehab Center with a new shift in his routine. Not only was he back to his regular schedule, but the staff were now teaching him how to use the innovative electrodes. Because the surgery was a new procedure, many visits and reports were made to document his progress from the doctors who conducted the new surgery to the Rehab center doctors who were much closer to this patient and wanted to see him succeed. He was taught how to begin using the electrical impulses and the process was intense and slow. It would take weeks before his muscle tone was strong enough for the first impulses to actually move his arm.

Johnny was reflecting back on all this when he noticed the time. It was almost noon and this was a big day for Johnny. Today, Roy was bringing the family. He hadn’t seen Jenny, Chris or Joanne since leaving Rampart now over eight months ago. While he kept in touch with notes, pictures and Roy’s updates, he found he missed the connections with the kids and he certainly wanted to see Joanne who was like a sister to him. He waited in his newer electric wheelchair which he acquired a couple of months ago. He was able to use the small joystick control with his strengthened fingers that were still functioning since that joyful morning of discovery. He watched out the large paned window from the lobby of the Rehab Center knowing that Jenny, especially, wanted to see him immediately.

Roy and Joanne had spent weeks with the children to prepare them for their “Uncle” Johnny’s appearance. Due to the immobility, pneumonia and surgery, Johnny was thinner, more haggard looking and certainly weaker. However, his deep brown eyes conveyed his newest confidence in moving forward in his journey. Johnny’s entire shift in attitude made his arduous therapy more tolerable. Not to say that he didn’t have some bad days. While depression was always at bay, he knew he couldn’t let it take over his soul ever again. Because of the support of Roy and his family and his friends, he knew he would adjust and the transition to the world of paralysis would get easier in time. He now realized just how capable and strong he was and he wanted to keep that in the forefront of his thoughts especially with the prospects of using his arms.

He saw Roy’s car pull up to the front and park. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he watched Jenny jump out clutching her favorite bear. Chris piled out next and then Joanne. He was so proud that he could call them family. It was a moment of peace that surrounded him when they walked up to the front double doors.

Roy knew where Johnny would be waiting and with just a nod of his head, Jenny saw her Uncle Johnny and bounded over to him.

“Oh, Uncle Johnny, Uncle Johnny!” she squealed. Her smile was wide and toothy and she immediately stopped right at Johnny’s wheelchair.

“Hey, my pretty princess! How is my girl?” He gushed.

She couldn’t stand still. She was so anxious to hug her favorite uncle.

Roy knew what she wanted. “Johnny?” he smiled as he asked politely.

“Hurry up!”

Roy picked up his daughter and placed her in Johnny’s lap. His daughter gingerly hugged her Uncle and Johnny buried his face into her bubble bath scented hair encouraging her to hug tighter. This was a feeling he would treasure. Although he couldn’t wrap his own arms around her, he let his spirit wrap around her and surround her with an unconditional love that was truly their own special bond. Roy and Joanne were always moved by their daughter’ s special relationship with Johnny which made it even more important that Johnny continue to be a part of their family.

Johnny’s tears came freely now as he said, “Oh, Jenny, I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sad, Uncle Johnny. Mommy and Daddy ‘splained everything to me. It’s okay. I missed you too!” She sighed with contentment as she pulled back to see her Uncle Johnny’s face. She stroked his thin cheeks and traced his tearful smile with her small finger.

Johnny turned to look up at Joanne who leaned down and kissed him on the cheek with a quick brush across his brow to move the unruly hair. She was also misty-eyed and simply said, “Finally, Johnny—I’m so glad this day came.”

“Me, too, Joanne, me too-you look great!”

“Oh stop, now—flirting will get you in trouble!” She winked a green eye at him and Roy couldn’t wipe the silly grin off his face. His best friend was happy. Something he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Chris stood off to the side of Jenny and his mom while they exchanged words and hugs with Johnny. He examined the different parts of Johnny’s power wheelchair; the large back wheels, the black leather against Johnny’s paler skin. He remembered Johnny’s dark tan and noticed that today he just looked sickly. This was not the vibrant, healthy and strong Uncle Johnny Chris remembered. He was now looking at a man who was thin, small and beaten down. Despite the disturbing physical appearance of Johnny, Chris couldn’t ignore that Johnny’s attitude seemed upbeat. He was glad because he really did miss his Uncle Johnny.

Johnny peered over Jenny’s shoulder and looked directly at Chris. Again, Chris seemed to shy away from Johnny’s gaze and his gaunt face. Johnny smiled and once the crooked slant of his grin took hold of the thin cheeks, Chris smiled back. He walked over to the side of Johnny’s wheelchair as Joanne stepped back. The gnawing fear in Chris’s stomach began to ease as Johnny spoke.

“Hi ya, sport!” he said cheerfully and softly.

Chris put his arm up on Johnny’s shoulder and awkwardly patted him. “Hi, Uncle Johnny,” he stuttered trying to shake the initial shock of seeing Johnny’s appearance.

“It’s okay, Chris—I know I don’t look too good right, now. Just wait till these arms start working again. Things will be different . . . and better,” Johnny said confidently.

Chris leaned in and laid his head on Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny once again couldn’t hold back the tears of joy of seeing this part of his family again. It had been too long and he needed this reconnection to make him more motivated to keep up with the rigorous therapy.

Roy continued to savor the scene in front of him. It had been too long for him as well. Ever since the initial shooting, he never felt the same. Both of their lives had been changed so much and despite the outward appearances that Roy put forth, he struggled to balance the needs of his family, Johnny and himself. But, watching this unfold in front of him, made him feel complete and full of awe. The wonder of family, the power of healing and how the simple act of touch could bring so much to a man who needed it so badly.

Unbeknown to the reunited family in the lobby of the Santa Clara Rehab Center, Dr. Gordon and Jean looked on and both silently took in the scene of healing and marveled at how medicine and science was only part of the resolution for Johnny’s new life.

PART IV: Restoration

The comb shook as the curled fingers gripped its sleek side. A few grunts and an awkward push forward allowed Johnny’s comb to actually contact his unruly head of hair which of late had seemed to grow twice as fast. Since he no longer had to comply with the department’s dress policy he had allowed it to grow longer during his recovery plus it made his facial hair look better. He also had grown out his beard and mustache to help hide the gaunt features of his face due to his injuries. As he contemplated this morning’s appearance he concentrated on getting the comb through just one more time. With another jerky movement of his hand and a slight twist of his neck, the comb made contact again and Johnny felt the now familiar moments of success.

It had been four months since the electrode surgery and the ensuing therapy to learn how to use the new technology. He had worked hard and continued to improve every day. His upper arm strength impressed the doctors and the fact that he was able to master the basic commands rather quickly helped to keep his confidence and motivation up. The morning sun streaked through his window and he closed his eyes to feel the warmth penetrate his tired face. He found that this new journey was exhausting in ways he never imagined. He also found that the depth and breadth of his best friend’s love extended beyond his own imaginings. Upon the news that he would not need 24 hour care at the Rehab Center, Johnny began to wonder what to do next for his new lifestyle. The ranch was certainly beyond his abilities to care for and it wasn’t suited for a wheelchair with its two stories and wrap around porch. Roy seemed prepared for all of this and he and Joanne had a serious conversation with Johnny knowing that he would find ways to lessen his dependence on their family. Several hours later on that rainy night at the Rehab Center four months ago, the three of them agreed that Johnny would stay with them indefinitely and that arrangements would be made to get Johnny’s house remodeled over time as funds, time and volunteers warranted. While Johnny was uncomfortable with the fact that Roy and Joanne were to restructure their own home and routine in order to care for him, he felt blessed beyond the Great Spirit’s measures that he had this family in his life.

Johnny opened his eyes and gazed out the window of his room. This room was added onto Roy’s house in anticipation of Johnny’s needs with the intent that it would become a mother-in-law suite in the future. It was spacious with a high ceiling and had a large bathroom off to the side. The large bay window that ran from the floor to the ceiling allowed Johnny to soak in the daily weather and keep him as close to the outdoors as possible. Roy and Joanne knew that Johnny’s hiking and camping trips were something he missed terribly. The room allowed for Johnny’s privacy as well as a sense of independence. The fact that a large hallway attached to the main living area of Roy’s home offered the physical tie Johnny needed to accommodate his needs.

Jenny and Chris loved having him around and he became their tutor and counselor. Joanne was pleased and amazed at how much Johnny contributed to their school work and he seemed to really enjoy being involved. Since Johnny was now able to have limited use of his arms, he was able to manipulate and practicing using common items. This always brought forth ways for the children, in turn, to help their Uncle Johnny as he learned new ways to function.

So, all in all, the last few months for Johnny had been a transition with few bumps in the roadway. It was all well and good that Johnny was adapting to his new world, but there were increasing pangs of guilt, regret and sorrow that Johnny was not fully functional in society and that his days of helping others seemed to be gone. He knew that deep down in his soul that he was successful at being a paramedic and rescue man because he cared about others deeply and he had a real talent for his work.

While the counseling sessions and the new life skills training were directed at finding a new way of life for Johnny, he felt that this new journey was missing something. A certain hollowness gnawed at him in small ways reminding him that there was more for him to do. He just wasn’t sure what that was.

A gentle knock at his door pulled Johnny from his morning reflections.

“Johnny?” Joanne tentatively asked.

“Come on in, Joanne, I’m up.”

“Good! How are you today? Can I get you anything before we leave for your session?” Joanne already had a hot cup of black coffee in her hands. She had a lid on it knowing that Johnny’s steadiness was still inconsistent and he appreciated her attention to the small details to make things easier for him.

“Oh, much better now that I smell that coffee!” Johnny grinned as she placed the thermal cup in his two hands. While the muscles in his arms were gaining strength his hands and fingers continued to stay curled and in awkward angles. This was due to the lack of exercise to the extremities and a common thing for quadriplegic patients. Johnny worked at extending his fingers as much as possible but they seemed to have a mind of their own. The fact that he could still feel some things with them was enough for him. The fact that he was able to make some arm movements without feeling the actual responses himself was another strange experience. But again, the very idea of moving his arms with his own direction was extremely satisfying.

“Well, good. I’ve got the kids off to school and anytime you’re ready we can go,” Joanne replied.

This day wasn’t much different from any other day. Three times a week Johnny went to physical therapy and once a week he attended his counseling session. Johnny’s dedication to his exercise and rehabilitation since the electrode surgery improved his emotional functioning. The post traumatic stress along with the depression was mostly under control and Johnny made sure he kept it that way. He also knew that without Roy’s support he certainly would have been lost. Involving himself with Chris and Jenny and helping Joanne also helped Johnny face the world of paralysis with a better attitude.

He maneuvered his chair down the ramp from the outside door to his room. Clouds were gathering hiding the warm sun from Johnny’s face. He concentrated on controlling his chair down the walkway to the van he had bought after trading in the Land Rover. This was another difficult piece of his former life that he had to give up but he chose to think about how great it was that the entire family could ride in one vehicle instead.

Droplets of rain began to fall after Joanne had started up the van and they began traveling the busy interstate to his exercise and therapy appointment. They enjoyed having conversation without the kids around and both Joanne and Johnny liked to keep up with Roy from each other’s perspective. Johnny always appreciated how Joanne never made him feel like a burden but instead a valued and loved member of the family.

The rain pelted the windshield and the spray from passing cars made Joanne’s visibility less than desirable. They both concentrated on the road ahead of them and Joanne made sure that she focused on the ramp as they exited the highway. Thunder rolled above them and the storm continued to grow.

“This one sure came up fast,” Joanne commented, working to ease her nerves.

Johnny watched the wipers flash back and forth with splashes of rain. “Yeah, I know.”

The single lane road narrowed as they approached the intersection. Joanne cautiously followed the signal allowing them to cross over. The van’s wheels spewed fresh rainwater and dirty asphalt up on the shoulder as the flooding streets overflowed the storm drains. They were a few miles away from the center and Joanne slipped the transmission into a lower gear to accommodate the slope of the road.

She noted the headlights of the large semi truck coming toward them from the downward curve of the road. She acknowledged that both their speeds were appropriate for the rainy conditions. She glanced in her mirrors making sure that everything was normal. She didn’t, however, look back behind her as the truck passed her. She simply kept moving forward but in an instant the back end of the truck clipped the back end of the van as it finished the curve. It was just a slight nudge that didn’t bother the truck driver. But the van felt the clip as though a boulder had fallen to its side. The next thing Joanne knew the van skidded to the shoulder and crashed through the guard rail. She suddenly looked at Johnny who was already in motion up against the glass of the passenger window as the van plunged down the side of the road. Rain, mud, weeds, smoke and fear were the last impressions Joanne witnessed before the dark clouds shrouded her vision.

*******

The sharp clap of thunder jolted him from a place he didn’t remember. But the sensations of feelings felt long ago aroused his level of anguish just as another loud rumble roared across the sky. He shuddered with new pain yet the old vibrations of a lost life remained in his dawning awareness. The feel of his mare’s muscular body rippled beneath him as they raced in the meadow of a new sunrise. The soft skin of her body sent shivers through him that delighted his world. The hard concrete dug into his back as he crawled under the building to reach the trapped child. The heat of powerful flames seared his brow with the sweat dripping down his back beneath his turnouts. The embrace from Dixie after loosing the man who fell from the roof of his house that took his breath away and allowed him to shake off the feelings of failure. The symphony of overwhelming physical sensations exploded throughout his mind as he became fully aware of his current reality.

The van was turned on its side with his passenger side firmly planted against the ground. Mud and water seeped under him yet all he could feel were the moist drops falling against his face and the realization that this was serious. His was still strapped in his chair with his right arm wedged against the window. As he turned his head toward the driver’s side he tried to begin assessing the extent of their accident. His headache intensified with that movement and he groaned under its relentless pursuit of his sense of balance and reality, closing his eyes tightly hoping to avoid further stabs of pain.

“Joanne?” he croaked with a barely a voice.

Nothing. No movement or any acknowledgment that she was even still in the driver’s seat. Johnny tried again to shift his head to see where she was. Another crackle of lightening descended from the sky and thunder replied. With a concentrated effort Johnny used his shoulders and neck to shift further right and turn toward the inside of the overturned van. He was rewarded with a glimpse of Joanne leaning against the bottom part of his chair, unrestrained from her own seat and obviously unconscious.

Fear gripped Johnny’s heart as he realized that his automatic response to check for her carotid pulse was useless—he couldn’t even reach her even if he could feel her pulse. “Damn it,” he moaned looking through the crushed windshield as the rain continued to fall.

“Jo? Come on, Joanne, I need you to wake up, . . .come on . . Jo . . .” Johnny tried again to rouse her with half his voice. His frustration level continued to rise with the intensity of his headache and he tried to hold back the constant drone of helplessness that also began to infiltrate his aching head.

He was thankful that at least it was still daylight and it appeared that the spring storm was moving out. He sighed and took a deep breath not knowing if anything else was a physical problem for him. He knew his chest felt tight from the impact of the landing, but had conflicting signs of what injuries he might have sustained. His more immediate concern was for Joanne. He attempted to move his left arm to the belt release of his chair and worked hard to move his head in such a way that the signals would reach his muscles. It was then he realized that despite his newly acquired strength in his arms that the electrodes may have been damaged. Clenching his eyes shut again, he moved the right way and focused on his arm position. Finally, the arm moved slowly and he pushed his fingers into the release. The first two tries didn’t work but on the third attempt he was rewarded with the snap release and a loosening of his shoulders and upper body from the seat restraint.

He inched toward Joanne trying to pull himself against the pull of gravity from his side of the van. He grunted as the effort taxed his stressed body.

“Joanne!” he managed as more of a shout to try and rouse her.

The effort was too much. He fell back to the crushed glass of the window and grunted. Ahh, man, what am I gonna do, he thought, working to keep the despair behind. He looked over the side of his chair again and tried to look for more clues to Joanne’s condition. He noted that she was basically draped over the middle of the two seats as though thrown from her seat during the crash and landing face down against his own seat. He couldn’t see her face nor could he see what injuries she might have. He tried to fix his eyes on her back to find the rise and fall of breathing. He didn’t realize he was holding his own breath until he finally released it upon see her back move. Good, Joanne, good deal!

He managed to fix his gaze at her back as he tried to think about what to do next. Images around him blurred and he fought back the incessant beating in his head and the tendrils of blackness that threatened to take him from this reality. He focused on Joanne and wondered if there ever was going to be a time in his life that he didn’t feel this utterly helpless and alone. Although he didn’t feel much of it, he knew shock would be setting in and his former paramedic brain begin listing all the potential injuries they both might have. The battle raged between his frustrated thoughts and the pounding headache. He finally gave in as the headache won out and caused him to close his eyes succumbing to the oblivion of non-reality.

*******

Roy looked over the paper at the wall clock and then gazed back toward the window of the dayroom. The thunder and lightening were beginning to ease off but for some reason he was feeling uneasy and recognized old feelings of fear. Feelings that he mostly had whenever Johnny was in danger on a rescue or the time when Joanne had a rough couple of days while delivering Jenny. He knew that the weather was probably setting him on edge yet he still couldn’t shake the veil of dread surrounding him today.

He stood up and dropped the newspaper on the table. He approached the phone on the wall and gnawed his lip unsure if he should call or not. He didn’t want Joanne to think that he was worried or for Johnny to think that he was being a “mother hen”, his favorite phrase of late. Today was a physical therapy day for Johnny so he knew that his friend and wife would be busy with the appointment.

He smiled as he thought about how much Joanne had taken to being Johnny’s caregiver these past few months. While both of them tried to prepare for the change in their own lives because of Johnny’s condition, he didn’t realize how much Joanne would end up being the primary person to oversee Johnny’s life. Roy’s entire family embraced Johnny which made him feel good and proud, but he wondered what toll it was taking especially on Joanne.

Roy worked at keeping his family healthy and happy and that included Johnny. Johnny once again was proving to be more than just his best friend. Roy was enjoying being a part of the new life that Johnny was forging and that he was contributing to support Johnny in ways he never imagined. Johnny was firmly planted in Roy’s life as his brother—his kid brother that needed him and that was something Roy would never want to change. He missed working with Johnny and he missed the work relationship, but he was thankful everyday that Johnny was still a part of his life and his family’s life. It was more than just a partnership that worked for Roy and Johnny on the job. That realization made his life much richer.

“Roy?” Hank’s voice interrupted his daydreaming.

“Uh, yeah, Cap, what’s up?”

“Just wondering what was so interesting out there?” Hank replied.

Roy looked over at Hank and made a small smile. “A lot of rain out there. Surprised we haven’t had any calls this morning.”

“Well, let’s not say that too loud.”

“Say what too loud?” Chet asked noisily as he walked into the dayroom. He plunked down into the leather couch and began stroking Henry’s floppy ear.

“Nothing, Chet,” Roy replied, hoping to stave off Chet’s hyper mood this morning.

Hank grinned and picked up the discarded paper on the table and sat down. “Chet, let’s just have some good downtime, huh?” he posed.

“Sure, Cap, just askin’ is all. Where’s your partner, Roy?”

Roy looked over toward the engine bay and thought that Brice would have been back by now from checking the log sheets. He thought about the last few months whereby Brice had become his permanent partner. That was a thought that still caused uneasiness in the new relationship. Roy never truly understood the depth of relationship with Johnny until that working relationship had disappeared. Brice was always the consummate professional and Roy had no real complaints. They worked well together and respected each others strengths and talents. What more could you ask for, Roy thought. It just seemed that there was little else to look forward to on the job—not like before.

Just as Roy was beginning to look for Brice, Brice came walking into the dayroom with the logbook.

“Roy, do you remember . . .” Brice began.

The blaring tones rang out and each man began the process of preparing for the run.

“Station 51, two vehicle car accident, 100 Block Boulevard, cross street East Orange Ave, time out 11:05,” dispatch voiced over the station.

“KMG-365,” replied Hank as he switched off the speaker, handed Roy the slip and ran to the Engine.

Roy concentrated on driving through the sheets of rain coming at a steady pace. It seemed to match his anxious heartbeat that also raced through the emotions of facing a serious accident but he couldn’t seem to set aside the extra feelings of dread that he continued to harbor for unknown reasons.

The sky responded with a loud clap of thunder and two streaks of lightening.

*******

Her vision blurred and suddenly she was aware that something was cutting into her torso. As she began to wake she cried out in pain as the stabbing jolts of heat pierced through from her leg. Fear gripped her hard and she tried to take a deep breath. She noticed the smell of smoke, wet mud and rubber. Rubber? Where am I? The flow of memories began to trickle into her addled mind and she realized she was face down in a mixture of leather seat and belts. Oh my God, Johnny? The van? The realization of what happened quickly took over her senses and she tried to push up from her face down position.

She felt the stabbing pains again from her leg and bit her lip as the pain rolled through her. This is not good! Johnny? She tried to move slower this time, breathing heavily and trying not to move her leg. Dread also filtered through her body as she noted that she hadn’t heard Johnny. She lifted her head and cautiously moved her upper body up from the middle of the van floor which was now the side. Groaning and panting, she finally was able to see that she was basically on top of Johnny’s seat and Johnny was unconscious lying against shattered glass and mud.

She reached down toward her legs to find that she was in an uncomfortable position wedged between the middle of the van and the driver’s side floorboard. She was thankful that despite her pounding headache, she seemed relatively intact. It was just an awkward position to be in and she wasn’t sure what to do.

The rain continued to pour into the van at a steady pace and she began to feel cold. She was able to reach out and grab her jacket and Johnny’s throw from his wheelchair. Although they were wet it was something for her to brace against to keep her from staying face down.

She attempted to reach for Johnny around the side of the seat and was just able to touch him. “Johnny? Johnny? Can you hear me?” She was trying to shake him from his hip and stopped realizing that he wouldn’t have felt it anyway. Tears flowed as the despair and fear finally slipped through. “Oh, Johnny . . .” she cried, trying to compose herself.

This just won’t do. Pull it together, Joanne, you’ve got work to do. She mumbled to herself trying to make sense of how to get help for the two of them. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on their surroundings. She noted the broken glass, the cuts on Johnny’s face and the fact that he was unrestrained, too. She also heard splashes of water from above her. The roadway? We can’t be too far if I can hear cars! She felt a flash of hope as she realized that she was hearing the sounds of wheels splashing water from the roadway. She couldn’t tell if the chills that ran through her were from being cold and wet or from potential help not too far away.

However, she felt her leg pain again and looked at Johnny. How on earth will either one of us be able to get help, anyway? She lamented silently and called out again, “Johnny?” hoping that the fear in her voice was not noticed by the unconscious man.

*******

The accident scene was a cacophony of people, rain and other cars passing by slowly. The shroud of darkness began to lift as the emergency vehicles converged on the scene. The rain died down to a spastic trickle that demanded little attention. All eyes were fixed on the man giving out orders. Smoke billowed from the crunched hood of the van. Crushed glass spilled out onto the road from the smaller car.

Another engine was called to the scene. Hoses were pulled, carried and came alive with pulsating water cooling down the hazy smoke. Two paramedics worked diligently to remove the driver from the van who was still conscious and alert. The driver of the small car didn’t make it. Both paramedics worked without comment other than the few words necessary to secure their victim’s neck and back before removing him from the van.

It wasn’t until the man saw the backboard that he began to laugh. Roy and Brice both looked at him immediately concerned that there might be head trauma.

“Yo, man, don’t need that. My back’s already broken! I’m a cripple!” the man said between his laughter. His breath revealed the cause of the accident. Not only had the rain impeded the man’s ability to drive, but the recent intake of beer seemed to contribute to the mess.

Roy shook his head and suddenly felt a pang of anger mixed with distraught. Brice focused on following procedure despite the man’s insistence that a backboard wasn’t needed. Roy followed his lead, his mind currently working to hold back another wave of despair. A wave that filled him with images of Joanne and Johnny in a van during this strong spring storm broke through his mask of professionalism. This could have been Johnny and Joanne, he thought. He decided he would call home once they returned to the station. I don’t care what they think, he reflected.

The disharmony of the accident continued to reverberate in Roy’s heart as he knocked on the back of the ambulance to let the driver know all was secured. He picked up his helmet and looked up at the clearing sky. But he didn’t find any peace as the sun peeked through the dark clouds.

*******

She laid her head on the bulges of a blanket and her jacket resting her arms within to keep warm. The rain had slowed down and was drizzling when she began to doze dreaming of her soft bed and hot coffee. While she contemplated the danger in totally falling asleep she heard the murmur of a voice—hoarse and grainy, but a voice—Johnny?

She pushed herself up again and reached for him. “Johnny? Come on, can you hear me?”

Johnny’s eyes fluttered open and he immediately took in a deep gasp and jerked his head toward Joanne. She smiled at him with tired eyes.

“Oh, Johnny! Talk to me—tell me how you’re feeling?”

Johnny blinked again seemingly trying to focus on her. He seemed confused at first but attempted a few words.

“Uh, where . . Jo?”

“Johnny, it’s okay. We’ve been an accident. Can you tell if you’re hurt?” she asked hoping he would begin to make sense of their current reality.

“Um . . can’t feel my legs . . Roy?” Johnny leaned his back into the mud and didn’t seem to notice that glass was cutting his cheek.

“Johnny, I need to you to stay awake . . .Johnny?” Joanne tried to shift again closer to him but cried out as her leg reminded her why moving wasn’t such a good idea.

Johnny’s head rolled back and forth and he made words that she couldn’t understand. But she did understand the tone of bewilderment and fear that lay beneath his murmurs. It was obvious to her that he wasn’t aware of what had happened. She sighed and decided she needed to try to do something. Johnny wasn’t able to help her and she wasn’t sure anyone knew where they were. She attempted to make small wiggles of her one good leg to see if she had any ability to disengage herself from the hold of the floorboard. Nothing but pain and frustration moved for Joanne—through her heart and her mind. “Somebody! Damn it! We need help!” Her shouts continued while Johnny was oblivious to it all.

*******

Crawling through the mud and mire of the collapsed house, Johnny inched his way across the soggy earth feeling every inch of skin soak up the cold and wet. Roy was right behind him with his own flashlight and it didn’t take long for the pair to find their way to the pocket that held the screaming child.

“Hey, hey, there, now, it’s gonna be okay, just relax,” Johnny tried to soothe the distraught toddler who was trapped under the house. The latest rains in the Los Angeles area were causing mud slides and there were some busy county firemen of late. Johnny got closer to the child and put on his best grin.

“Mamma!!” the little boy yelled again and started crying.

“Hey, sport, now come on . . . my name’s Johnny and this is my partner, Roy. We’re gonna get you back to your mama,” Johnny said using his best manner to try to calm the child down.

He turned back toward Roy. “Roy? I’m gonna try and get this lifeline around him—I can almost reach him.”

“Okay, I’ve got my latch ready,” Roy replied and he pushed it up toward Johnny. He held his light steady to give Johnny a better ability to see into the miry mess under the house. Just as Johnny crawled further toward the child the boards above him began to creak and moan.

“Johnny, be careful—we don’t have much time left. This rain’s really coming down,” Roy warned.

“Almost there . . .” Johnny used his legs to push his body another couple of inches to the trench the child was caught up in. The child continued to cry but seemed to stop screaming as he watched Johnny move closer.

“Hi, there!” Johnny’s muddy face was a stark contrast to the bright smile he held for the upset toddler. He put his hands and arms out to the boy and encouraged him to crawl toward him. “Can you come a little closer?” Johnny asked nicely.

The toddler looked at him cautiously with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Johnny said, “Come, on now, sport. We’re gonna go to mama.”

The child cried out for his mama while moving to Johnny’s arms. Johnny’s heart jumped with excitement as he finally connected with the scared child and immediately put the life line around him. “Now, just hold on to me and we’ll get out of here.”

Johnny twisted around again and faced his partner. “We’re ready, Roy. Let’s get going.”

“Okay, stay behind me. Let me get turned around.” Roy shifted carefully under the small space and checked once more on Johnny. Johnny had the child next to him and was murmuring something quietly—obviously calming the child further.

Both men began the arduous task of crawling back out through the muddy incline of the house bottom. Johnny felt his cold, wet raw skin against the turnout coat and knew that he had picked up at least two inches of mud and pebbles during his belly trek to rescue the trapped toddler.

After what seemed like an eternity, Roy emerged with Chet’s help and then Johnny was next. Hank picked up the wet boy and Marco assisted Johnny up to his feet. The house continued to groan and in its final death shudder it continued its collapse. The crew ran up the muddy slope using muscles they didn’t knew existed as they escaped the clutches of the mud slide. Once on top of the hill, everyone let loose a deep breath. Johnny wiped the mud and water from his face and shook off the remnants of adrenaline surging through his body. He ran to the squad and began unpacking equipment.

For some reason, he kept looking at his feet while carrying the biophone back to Roy and realized that either they were extremely numb with cold or something was wrong . . .

But the rain kept pelting his face and suddenly Johnny woke from a dream that was too vivid and real. He wondered where he was and as soon as he moved his head he felt the glass dig into his head.

“Aw, man . . .um . . “ he mumbled upon finding that this reality was not what he thought it would be. What happened?

“Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?” That was Joanne . . .what was she doing here? As a piercing pain shot through his head he realized something was terribly wrong.

“Jo? Joanne? What? . . .” he tried to talk but his voice was hoarse and now his head was splitting. He was in a very awkward position.

“Johnny, we’ve been in an accident. Are you hurt? Last time you came to, you weren’t very coherent. Johnny, can you see me?” Joanne peeked over the edge of his side-ways seat. He shifted toward her.

“Yeah, are you . . .okay?” Johnny was beginning to filter through the memories of an accident and realized that he was probably suffering from shock and a concussion. He tried to focus on assessing their situation.

“Other than something’s going on with my leg, I’m okay. But I’m trapped; I can’t move.” Johnny heard the slight shiver in her voice and tried to keep steady himself.

“Okay, so don’t try to move, then . . .um . . “ Johnny wasn’t trying to be funny, but his head kept him from thinking too clearly. However, it was clear that they needed help and someone had to try to find it. Embers of his dream shimmered in his addled mind—crawling through the mud.

“Joanne? Tell me what you remember,” he asked.

“I don’t know what happened other than waking up here. I don’t think we’re too far from the road because I can hear some cars. Listen,” she said.

Sure enough there were a few passing cars on the single lane road above them. Johnny’s experience with hundreds of accidents began to sift through and he knew that it was a good bet that because of the weather, no one could see them in the tall brush. He tried to calm his racing heart as the weight of their situation settled on him. Damn it, I’m a rescue man, he thought bitterly as he noted the lack of physical feeling still within his most of his body. He lifted his neck from the muddy ground and peered over the open windshield in front of him. An idea was forming and he let it. It had been too long, too hard to think that he could do much of anything. But it was different today. They were in real trouble and he had to reach down deep into his very being and find some of his old attitude.

“Joanne, I’m gonna try it. I want to see if I can get to the road.” Johnny’s voice was a little stronger.

Joanne gasped. “No, Johnny, you could be hurt and not even know it. Johnny, please.”

“Joanne, I’ve got to try! The sooner we get help, the better. I’d rather be lying in the shoulder trying to get help than just laying here. God, it can’t be any worse than what I’ve already been through!” Johnny didn’t mean to shout, but he was afraid that the impending weakness of being trapped and the possible concussion would prevent him from trying.

“Oh, Johnny, please . . . tell me what I can do,” Joanne offered.

“Good deal . . .let’s see about releasing the rest of this harness so I can pull up from the dash.” Johnny instructed and began the task of focusing on his every move. He hoped the electrodes were still working and that the last few months of muscle work in his arms would be enough. It would have to be, he decided. It would have to be.

*******

The phone call was made. Roy hung up the receiver slowly as the dread crept into his bones. They never arrived. We wondered and tried to call but no answer. I’m sorry, Mr. DeSoto. In just a few sentences his entire world shifted as he tried to decide his next step in finding his wife and Johnny.

After a quick phone call to the neighbors to check on things at the house and to ask for them to look after Chris and Jenny when they arrived from school, Roy went to find Hank. He rapped on Hank’s door to the office.

“Cap? Can I see you?” Roy asked.

“Roy, what’s up?” Hank queried.

“Uh, Cap, Joanne and Johnny never made it to his therapy appointment today. And they’re not at home . . uh, Cap, I’m worried. Do you . . .”

Hank interrupted him and promptly stood up and picked up the phone. A few words to the Chief and he made a sad smile. He looked up at Roy.

“Take the squad and we’ll do a 10-8. Let’s us know if you find anything,” Hank said quietly.

Roy nodded and called for Brice. His heart beat faster as they merged onto the busy roadway and began traveling the path Joanne would have taken to the medical center. Brice said nothing but stayed focused on the task, knowing that Roy needed an eagle eye through the growing fog.

*******

In all his years of physical effort from rescues, training and the most unbearable places he could think of to free trapped victims, this rescue, this effort, was the greatest. His head was trying to beat out his heart in loud thumps. His progress was slow and his throat raw from the cold and wet ground. He felt the weakening of his crawl inch by inch. It was slow and agonizing as he pulled his dead weight through the slick weeds and the rocky pebbles. Good thing I can’t feel most of it! He had to laugh inwardly at the irony of this rescue. What would the guys at the station think of his plan? He stopped again to catch his breath and tried to slow down his heart rate. It wouldn’t help much but he knew every inch was an inch closer to a possible rescue.

The electrodes seemed to be working but he wasn’t sure. How much of it was his own muscle strength or how much of it was due to the impulses he couldn’t tell. The whole idea of even attempting to creep this way seemed ludicrous yet it was all he could do. Somehow, he found some inner strength to keep pressing on. He would not let Joanne suffer any more than she had to all because of his situation.

What small feeling he had in his fingers grew faint and distant. The cold penetrated through him and sought refuge within his body. Unable to regulate his body temperature anymore, he wasn’t sure how he was still functioning. His elbows were cut up from the rough ground and he had a mouthful of dirt and weeds. It was as if he was literally treading the ground in slow motion using only his forearms to propel him forward.

He could hear the sounds of cars closer now. They filtered down from the roadside and enticed him to keep crawling. One inch at a time. Stop. Breathe. Move again another inch. This was Johnny’s newest journey on a wet and muddy slope. One way or another, he was going to find help. Even if it took every ounce of fortitude and strength that he had left. He needed to bring back his own sense of purpose if only for this moment in his new life. He needed to reach for the shoreline of living a normal life, and he wasn’t going to let a dumb car accident slow him down. Not after all his friends and family had done for him this past year. It was time to restore his rightful place in his small corner of the world.

His head pounded relentlessly and he knew he was on the verge of passing out. Tears came freely and he didn’t care. The last fading tendrils of motivation and strength ebbed away and Johnny made one final thrust of his crooked fingers forward. His head bobbed down into the rocky ground and he tried to spit out the mud again. He sighed heavily knowing that was it. He could move no more. His consciousness wavered. As Johnny’s eyes finally shut he didn’t feel the rough edge of the asphalt where his weathered hand landed.

*******

The fog drifted without a care throughout the city of Carson. The roads were moist and the leftover rain drops fed the hungry mist. What little sun came out during the day was setting and shadows of twilight clung to the horizon.

Roy and Brice drove slowly through the fog and kept a silent vigil looking and hoping to find some clue as to what happened to Joanne and Johnny. Roy’s imagination continued to haunt him and he wondered just how much more of this eventful year he could withstand. Sprays of water from roadside puddles made their way to the windshield every time a passing car drove by. Roy’s worry increased as each mile brought them closer to the Rehab medical center.

Roy blinked the weariness from his eyes and kept saying silent prayers.

“Roy, stop,” Brice commanded. His words sliced through Roy’s bleary thoughts. He tapped the brakes straining to see what Brice saw.

It wasn’t much but it was there. A prone form of a man laying face down in the shoulder of the road with an extended hand had caught Brice’s eagle eye. He jumped from the squad as it slowed down and rushed over. Carefully, he brushed the mud from the man’s face and turned him over. Behind the soggy beard and muddy long hair, it was Johnny. Roy was right behind Brice and immediately reached over to Johnny’s face.

“Johnny, Johnny?” he cried.

“You stay here. I’ll call it in and get the lights,” Brice said as he moved away from the two men. Roy gently cradled Johnny’s head and shoulders while turning him around trying to assess what happened. Beyond that he couldn’t erase the constant dread that wrapped his shoulders knowing that Joanne could be close by.

Brice dropped a couple of blankets at Roy’s lap and looked over the edge of the slope. “It doesn’t look too bad—just muddy,” he said aloud for Roy’s benefit. He handed Roy the other walkie-talkie and proceeded to secure ropes around his shoulders. “I’ll see what I can find. Why don’t you wait for help—they’re on the way.”

Roy understood that it was better for Brice to look . . . just in case. He nodded glumly and looked back at Johnny. “Johnny? Come on, partner, I need you to wake up.” Roy was still stunned to see his best friend in such a haggard state. He started imagining all the reasons why Johnny would be lying on the roadside and his fear increased.

Upon closer inspection he noticed the multiple cuts, scrapes, bruises and embedded glass in Johnny’s hands, arms and face. His clothing was in shreds and he felt cold and clammy. He wrapped the blankets around Johnny and made sure his head was stable. He grabbed equipment from the squad and set up the biophone. Taking vitals he quickly relayed them to Rampart. It was clear that Johnny was suffering from hypothermia and shock. After listening to his lungs it was also clear that there was some rattles. Not a good sign, Junior. Roy sighed.

After an IV was inserted and Johnny was secured into the stokes, he leaned back and said another prayer. The walkie-talkie squawked and he heard Brice say, “Roy, I’ve found her. She’s alive and conscious—looks like a broken ankle. I’ll need some manpower to get her out. She’s good, Roy—a-okay!”

The only reply Roy had was a slight whisper of thanks and he thumbed the walkie-talkie. “They’re on the way—tell her I’m here and . . . thanks, Brice.”

Roy gazed back down at Johnny and thought about a rubbing his chest to rouse him until he realized that wouldn’t help. He took that one moment and allowed his hand to cover Johnny’s cold one. “Oh, Johnny . . . what happened to you?” He asked quietly not expecting a reply. He tried again to rouse Johnny by stroking his face.

The fog continued to encircle the area and it grew thicker. The oxygen helped to rouse Johnny and Roy waited anxiously. Roy could tell that Johnny was growing aware of his surroundings and he hoped that he was coherent enough to talk to him. He was fearful of a possible concussion and what appeared to be another bout of pneumonia setting in.

Roy leaned in. “Johnny, can you hear me?”

Johnny coughed weakly and his eyelids flickered a few times. Roy saw his mouth try to form words but nothing came out except for more coughs.

“It’s okay, Junior—I’ve got you now. Just try to relax.”

Johnny tried to shift his shoulders but nothing happened. Roy felt the tension in his neck and once again, tried to soothe his partner by stroking his face—the one area he knew Johnny would feel. He began to notice tears streaming from Johnny’s clinched eyes.

“Johnny?”

“. . . I . . tried . . “ Johnny coughed again, his voice but a whisper. “. . . so . . . tired . . .”

“Shhh, Johnny, not now. I’m right here. We’ve got Joanne; she’s good—everything’s going to be fine.”

Johnny had faded off again. Roy once again stroked the tortured face of his best friend and tried to remain patient while waiting for help. He was rewarded with the sounds of the air horn and sirens making their way down the road. He sighed and then took another set of vitals. Things weren’t improving. At least now we can get them to the hospital, Roy thought. The flashing lights of the engine and an ambulance struck out into the darkness and greeted Roy.

Roy thumbed the walkie-talkie once more, covered Johnny’s hand once more. “They’re here, Brice. We’re on our way.”

*******

The room was darkened and Roy took in the pleasant sounds of his wife’s regular and strong breathing. Joanne was sleeping peacefully in a private room at Rampart and he was taking it all in—savoring her clean scent, her quiet and beautiful face and the softness of her warm hands. She was safe and he was thankful. Her ankle was indeed broken and she suffered from hypothermia and some bruising, but all in all she was well on her way to recovery from their ordeal today.

The door cracked open and Roy saw Dixie peek in.

“How’s she doing?” she asked.

“Really good—she’s sleeping soundly. Any word on Johnny?” replied Roy.

Dixie encouraged him to join her in the hallway. Roy walked with her to the floor lobby, the concern spreading thicker across his brow.

“He’s finally settled in ICU. It looks like the electrodes are okay, but he’ll have to have some repairs done with the transmitter. He’s got a couple of broken ribs so they’ll have to wait a few days before doing the surgery. Kel thinks he has the beginnings of pneumonia so he’s started him on some aggressive antibiotics. Whatever feeling he may have in his shoulders and arms is going to be fierce—he’s pulled muscles and tendons.” She paused to shake her head. “I just can’t imagine how he did what he did.”

Roy replayed Joanne’s descriptive details of their situation and Johnny’s determined trek to the roadside. Johnny’s staggering effort to get to the roadside awed Roy and Dixie.

“That’s Johnny . . . our old Johnny, huh, Dix?” Roy commented. While he was stunned by Johnny’s decision for his action plan, part of him remembered Johnny’s old determination and formidable spirit to make a rescue successful or to recover quickly from work-sustained injuries. It was just who Johnny was.

“Dix, what about his head?”

“Hard to tell right now—he’s not been conscious yet. There’s some bruising and plenty of cuts and from what Joanne said, he’s probably got a concussion. The good thing is that we don’t really have to administer any strong pain killers right now.” Both understood the unspoken reason for holding off on that decision.

Roy looked down at the floor, shifting his stance. “Okay for me to go see him?”

Dixie wrapped her arm around the taller fireman’s arm and began leading him to the elevator. “That’s why I came—to personally escort you!” She walked with him and encouraged him through her embrace that everything was going to be all right.

“Do you think this will set him back? I mean . . we’ve finally seen some routine . . even thinking about his future.” Roy’s deep concern was evident and Dixie tried to grant Roy some peace.

“I think because he has been doing so well, that this will be okay—I think he’ll feel tested, even discouraged, but I also think once he realizes the physical feat he accomplished today—well, it just says it all,” Dixie commented.

They both stood in front of Johnny’s room. It was well past midnight and the ICU was quiet with sleeping patients. The weariness of the day began to settle into Roy’s face and his shoulders drooped. He scrubbed his face to rouse himself before seeing his best friend.

“Thanks, Dix. You’re the best,” he said as he leaned in and gave her a hug.

“We’re all here for both of you—well, all of you! You’re family, Roy.” She smiled. “Oh, there’s a pillow and blanket in there if you need it.” She winked at him and walked away.

Roy entered another quiet and darkened room but the patient in this bed didn’t seem as peaceful. The larger abrasions on his face were bandaged, as well as several places along his arms. Roy moved closer to his friend’s bedside and noted the IVs, the oxygen mask, the wrapped chest and cooling cloths for his current fever. The ICU nurse nodded at him as she finished his last set of vitals.

“He’s a little restless, but the fever is beginning to drop,” she reported. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Roy reached for Johnny’s forehead and turned the cloth. Johnny seemed to sense Roy’s presence as he gently brushed long strands of hair away from the damp cloth. Johnny coughed shaking loose the cloth and he opened weary eyes, dulled by the physical ordeal of the accident.

“Hey, there, Johnny,” Roy smiled as he leaned in so that Johnny could see him.

Johnny coughed again and tried a small grin under the mask. It appeared to take great effort to acknowledge Roy so Roy removed the mask for a moment.

“. . .ah . Roy . . “ Johnny whispered with a few more coughs.

“Don’t try to talk right now—you need to rest and get rid of this stuff in your lungs.”

Johnny made a slight nod. “. . . how bad?”

Roy replaced the mask over Johnny’s face and tried to sound optimistic. Images of Johnny’s previous depression flashed before him and he tried to will them away, staying focused on direct answers for his partner.

“They need to repair the transmitter—you’ve got a couple of broken ribs. You’ve got to get stronger before they do the surgery. But the electrodes are good.” Roy paused. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Johnny closed his eyes. “. . . Jo? . . .”

“She’s okay—resting well. She’ll be able to go home tomorrow.” Roy touched Johnny’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Johnny could only nod and he seemed to relax. Roy could see some of the tension in his face ease up and he hoped that Johnny would get the rest he needed. Roy’s heart ached fiercely to see Johnny back in the hospital. He knew how exhausting it was for Johnny to continue to work on daily routines and this was certainly going to set him back.

Roy noticed Johnny looking at him, beckoning Roy to come closer. Roy pulled up the chair and grabbed Johnny’s arm careful not to disturb the bandages. He raised it up just a bit to let Johnny see that Roy was holding on.

Tears slipped from Johnny’s fatigued eyes. “ . . kay . . so . . helpless . . . okay . . cry?” Johnny managed to croak out for Roy to hear. Roy was taken aback. Was he asking permission? Was the head injury more than they knew? Roy’s heart broke watching his best friend, his brother, weakened and tired to the point that there wasn’t much left in him.

“Johnny . . it’s okay—I’m right here. Just hold on. I’ve got you . . do you hear me? I won’t let go, Johnny . . . I won’t.” Roy wanted to repair Johnny’s confidence, his inner peace. He wanted to give Johnny all the strength he could. He gripped Johnny’s hand harder while the sobs tore out of Johnny’s congested chest and raw throat. Roy held on, praying that the Great Spirit would finally bring Johnny restoration to his life. Roy held on, letting his own tears fall.

*******

Reality kept knocking at the doorway of Johnny’s dreams. He was pleasantly surrounded by successful rescues, long hikes and intense riding sessions with his horses. The air around him crackled with excitement each time he felt the surge of movement within his limbs and the ability to take in the fresh air without the pain of fighting for breath and coughing every few minutes. The knocking resounded through the tenderness of Johnny’s head. It wasn’t going to stop until he woke up.

The lights were dim and he realized that this time he was in a private room at Rampart and no longer constantly observed in ICU. Thankful for gaining some of his strength back and a successful surgery to repair the transmitter, Johnny was nonetheless ready to move on. He felt the continued hum of aggravated muscles in his neck and shoulders and the incessant cough and breath deep exercises that filled his last few days.

However, he felt something deeper that hadn’t been there in a long time. He felt a secure sense of accomplishment. The well of tears that sprung forth that first night in ICU served as the beginning of a profound understanding that his life was different and that it was okay. Okay to be weary, tired, and distraught, beyond stressed . . . but also okay to let go of the shield of insecurity and fear and to let his weakness lead to his strength. It didn’t really make sense a year ago when Helen tried to tell him the very same thing that day . . .

Helen read his thoughts. “I was like you, wishing everyone around me would leave me alone with my misery,” she confessed. “Paula and the rest of my family didn’t give up on me, though. I think, deep down, I knew they wouldn’t, but I had to test them. And I had to face my weakness.”

“Weakness?” queried Johnny. “What do you mean?” His face was curious, but Johnny kept his eyes focused on the window, not letting Helen see his interest.

“I had to give permission to myself to be weak,” she explained. “My life was going to be different. Did I have the strength to accept this weakness?” she nodded down at her wheelchair.

“And?”

“And, one moment after another, it became my new life. It’s like I told you the day we met. I’m watching my daughter grow into a beautiful woman; I get to see those Dodgers games and beautiful sunsets that my husband is missing. Sure, I miss some things. I wish I could take your hand right now and hold it tight and somehow make this better for you.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But maybe it will be enough to tell you that you will survive this.”

“How?”

“Don’t look too far ahead, Johnny. Just live!”

Johnny’s tears came again. He tried to blink them away.

“You have to learn to live with those tears, not fight them,” Helen said gently. “All your life you’ve had your body to protect those emotions. You could run off and do something to forget about them. You don’t have that outlet now, and you have to learn how to handle that."

“Am I strong enough?” Johnny whispered.

As Johnny replayed that memory he smiled, knowing how proud Helen would be of him right now. Would she believe that he actually did get his butt out of his chair?

He sighed and felt the embers of sleep fade away. The feelings of success continued to linger as he recalled Joanne’s grateful embrace and her teary face when she came to visit yesterday. His heart was warm and he knew that whatever sacrifice he could make for this family was never too much to ask. The fact that he actually tried to do something despite his physical weakness made him reflect on this past year in a new way. He was strong enough—but not because of him alone—because of Roy and Joanne, the kids, and everyone else in his life who stood by him and never left or treated him differently despite his paralysis.

And it really just came right down to the one person he trusted and opened up to more than he ever imagined he could. Roy, his friend, his brother. Roy—the one who would learn from the Rehab staff how to care for Johnny’s needs. How to help him transfer from the bed to the wheelchair to the bathtub. He was there to learn the ways to wash and dress Johnny and then do the reverse at night to get his clothes off and prepare him for the night. In turn, Roy would share his new knowledge with Joanne who would be the primary caregiver when Roy was at work. This was the true depth and width of unconditional love. Having this total dependence on Roy had moved Johnny beyond their already close relationship. It was now a love that had no understanding in the real world. He took a shuddering breath as he realized how much had really happened to him on this journey.

His thoughts were interrupted by another knocking on the door. Roy didn’t wait for an answer and simply walked in with a smile.

“Hey, Johnny! How are you this morning?” Roy asked cheerfully.

“Not bad—feeling a little sore still, but not bad. How’s Joanne?”

“Settled in—the walking cast is working great and she’s feeling good.” Roy was dressed for work but pulled up a chair and seemed to lounge for a few minutes. He had a glimmer in his eye that made Johnny question Roy’s real purpose for being here today.

“ . . .And?” Johnny prompted.

“Oh . . uh. . .it’s nothing really, but I was just thinkin’ . . .” Roy managed to stutter appearing nervous to Johnny.

Johnny smiled knowing that something was on Roy’s mind. “Spill it, already!”

“Well, you’ll be coming home in a couple of days and we’ve got your therapy sessions already scheduled. But, I was hoping we could fit in another appointment if you’re up to it.” Roy looked at Johnny with hopeful eyes.

“What’ya up to, partner?”

“It’s just . . . I think you’re ready . . . ready to move on,” Roy began.

“Go on,” Johnny insisted, wondering what Roy was up to.

“There’s a job posting at Department Headquarters.”

*******

“It took me months after the depression to build up my muscular strength—I needed to so that I could figure out how to transfer from the bed to the wheelchair. Then learning all the basics again with these crumpled fingers . . .man, it was hard. Initially, I resisted doing things on my own asking everyone else to do things for me. But one day one of my therapists said, ‘Do it yourself, Johnny.’ She wasn’t mean or rude, but she kicked my butt and showed me I could do some things on my own.”

Johnny made a small grin and looked at the reporter holding the microphone. He noticed her green eyes and full red hair and smiled wider.

“Tell me, Mr. Gage, about living in a wheelchair. What has it been like?” she asked gently.

“Well, wheelchair living is different. While I feel like I can get around in this power chair rather well, I have to be really aware of where I am and how I’m gonna get there. One of the initiatives I’m working on is somehow getting all public facilities like business and restaurants to be more wheelchair accessible.”

She nodded her head in agreement and asked, “What about around your house?”

“Well, I’m fortunate to be living with my family in a remodeled suite. I have mobility within the house but there are many things I still need help with. There’s the morning and evening routines for the basics—washing, getting dressed and so on. The fund provides for an attendant to help relieve some of these duties every day from my family. “Johnny blinked against the bright lights of the camera.

“Mr. Gage, tell me about your family.”

Johnny paused for moment and reflected on the past eighteen months of his life and all that was now embedded in his heart. All that he had learned and how taking the next step toward this new life seemed harder than the first step.

“Um, there are times when I feel sorry for myself. But more for my family, really, than for me. Early on I really struggled with why I was still alive, why this had happened and so on. It took me a long time to resolve those feelings but there are still times when tears come. “Johnny made a small sigh and continued. He considered all those dark moments and pushed them aside.

“I am really quite content with my life now most of the time. Every so often, I feel twinges of impatience because there’s something I can’t do like pick up a book I’ve dropped or open a door. But I’m learning how to adapt every day. And it does get a little easier.”

“Since your injury ended your job as a fireman/paramedic tell us what you’re doing now,” the reporter smiled, encouraging Johnny to continue.

“That was beyond difficult realizing I couldn’t do what I love to do. But, I was given an opportunity to stay with the department and I now serve as the public liaison for the Los Angeles Firemen’s Relief Association. We manage funds and programs for widows, orphans and disabled firemen. At first I was a little intimidated by the responsibility being in the public eye so much.”

Johnny paused and looked beyond the reporter to Roy who was sitting behind the camera, smiling. Johnny remembered the first interview with the Chief and the President of the Relief Association and feeling so out of place. But with Roy’s encouragement and steady strength, Johnny discovered the joy of working with this side of the department.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’m moved to tears or gratitude when I work within our brotherhood of our families. We have a dangerous job and part of our commitment is to extend relief to those left behind or injured. Because of my own situation, I can relate so well with the rest of our disabled co-workers.”

“Mr. Gage, it’s been a pleasure interviewing you. We appreciate your time and candor. Most of all, thank you for your service to this county. I’m Emma Deal for KCAL 9 news.” Emma turned off her microphone and looked away from the camera back to Johnny.

Johnny watched the lights turn off and he breathed a sigh of relief. No matter how many interviews or public speeches he made about his story, it left him emotionally weary. However, he put on his best lop-sided grin and his eyes sparkled as he spoke.

“No problem, Emma. I’m glad I could help. With the upcoming Fund Drive Ball, I think this will bring in some more donors.” He tried not to slouch in the wheelchair and made sure he kept eye contact with this very pretty reporter.

He noticed Roy looking amused while Johnny attempted to keep Emma in conversation. Johnny simply glared at him briefly.

Johnny shifted a bit and cleared his throat. “Um. . . speaking of which . . . the Ball, I mean . . .uh, well I was wondering if . . .” Johnny could certainly feel the flush creep up his clean shaven cheeks and realized that he was sounding really desperate.

“Emma, what I mean, . . .is . . .would you allow me to escort you to the Ball?” There, he said it and still managed to keep his grin in place.

Emma’s smile radiated warmth and pleasure and Johnny felt he could just lose himself in her brilliance. “Mr. Gage, I would love to!” she replied enthusiastically.

“Please, call me, Johnny,” he said shyly.

She leaned in and gave him a quick embrace. “Call me,” she whispered and Johnny just about lost all sense of professionalism especially since other people were still cleaning up equipment. He smiled at her as she shook Roy’s hand and walked out the front door.

Roy looked back at Johnny who was still staring after Emma with eyes that were filled with happiness and satisfaction . . . and couldn’t wipe off his own satisfied grin.

NOTE:

A big thank you to all who have waited so patiently for me to finish this story and to all who have encouraged me to complete it! It is been such a labor of love. I hope you are not too disappointed with the outcome, but I had to keep it real and I have my own satisfied grin! Please check out the LAFRA online at www.lafra.org

Let me know what you think of this very long journey I put Johnny through!  rwein5eve@charter.net

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