EMERGENCY!
(The characters from Station 51 and Rampart General belong to Mark VII.
They’ve been borrowed just for fun—and not for fortune.)
Gerry Mills hated house work. The only thing that sucked worse than having to clean house, was having to do it on her day off. Thus, Miss Mills was not in the best of moods when the phone interrupted her dreary, backbreaking task. She flicked the vacuum off and reluctantly responded to the annoying ringing. "Hello?!" she snapped.
"Uh-uh...hi," came a rather timid reply, from some guy. "This is John Gage. Is Stacey there?"
The girl gasped in exasperation. Then, without covering the mouthpiece, she turned and shouted, "Stace?! You-our...friend is on the phone!"
Stacey, who’d been battling some stubborn stains in their toilet bowl, exited the bathroom and came hurrying down the hall. She pulled the bright-yellow Playtex gloves from her hands and exchanged them for the telephone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Stacey! It’s John. I was just calling to see if you were gonna be free this afternoon. The weather’s s’posed to be beautiful, and I happen to know the perfect place for a picnic!"
"Well, actually, we’re pretty busy he--" Stacey managed to say, before Gerry snatched the phone away.
"Stacey has just been released from cleaning detail," Miss Mills proclaimed. When her astonished roomy tried to yank the phone back from her, Gerry covered the mouthpiece and announced--in an agitated whisper, "This house isn’t going anywhere! It’ll still be here tomorrow! You-our...friend is leaving for two weeks! And--before he goes--you have something very important to tell him! Remember?!"
Stacey’s look of extreme annoyance turned to one of tremendous discomfort, and she reluctantly accepted the receiver her smug--pushy--pal passed back to her. "There’s been a sudden change of plans. Looks like I’m gonna be free, after all..."
"Grea-eat!" Gage exclaimed with such exuberance, that the girl had to hold the phone away from her ear. "What time shall I pick you up?"
"Uh-uh...How ‘bout I meet you at your apartment around noon? Okay?"
"Sure! But, you don’t have to drive all the way over here. I’d be glad to--"
"It’s no problem!" Stacey assured him, "I have a few errands I can run along the way..."
"Well, if you insist. Oh...Do you like peanut butter and jelly?"
The question struck Stacey as highly amusing, and she had everything she could do to keep from laughing. " I love peanut butter and jelly!"she somehow managed to get out--with only a grin.
"Good!" the guy on the other end of the line replied, sounding slightly relieved. "Then, I guess I’ll see yah around noon."
"Yeah...see yah, Johnny..." Miss Ferrel signed off, sounding somewhat melancholy.
"Bye, Stacey...'click'."
"Repeat after me," Gerry coached her glum companion, "We’re just friends. It’s not all that difficult to say," she continued, following a roll of her friend’s green eyes. "I can’t believe you were going to let the guy go off for two weeks, without telling him!"
"I was gonna call him!" Stacey adamantly stated in her defense, but then timidly tacked on, "...later."
"Yeah? Well, now you get to say it to his fa--" Gerry stopped speaking, as something suddenly occurred to her. "You can’t tell him to his face! Oh-oh, girl...if you don’t already got it, you’re definitely coming down with it!"
"With what?" Stacey innocently inquired.
"The love bug! You’re falling for the guy--and don’t give me none of that ‘we’re just friends’ nonsense!" Gerry warned, "Because, if you really were ‘just friends’, you could tell him that, in person! But you can’t do that, can you. Because, close contact causes you to breathe funny...you get all ‘weak in the knees’...and your heart goes ‘pitter-patter’! Because, being with him is so-o...wonderful! So exciting!"
Stacey stared silently back at her, looking absolutely amazed--and guilty...on all counts.
"I’ve fallen a few times, myself," Gerry explained, "I know all the symptoms...What about food?" she wondered, "Can you eat in his presence?"
"G-Guess I’m gonna find out..." Stacey stammered, and stood there, looking like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry.
Gerry gave her smitten associate a huge hug, and her concern immediately shifted from the fireman’s heart being broken, to her friend’s heart being broken. ‘I don’t think you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, girl!’ she sadly--and silently--surmised. But, then cheerily declared, "I wish you had let him pick you up! I can’t wait to meet the guy that got you to break your ‘I don’t date cops or firemen’ rule!"
"I can’t wait to meet him, either!" Stacey suddenly realized--right out loud. And the two of them broke into broad grins.
*************************************************
It turned out that Stacey would have to wait.
When the girl arrived at John’s apartment, she was greeted at the door by his landlady, a Mrs. Gereau. The kindly old woman--who insisted on being called ‘Annie’--informed Miss Ferrel that her date would be a few minutes late, because he was presently out back, fixing a badly-leaking garden hose, so she could water her wilting flower beds.
While John busied himself in the backyard, Mrs. Gereau--er, Annie--took the opportunity to re-pot a few of the paramedic’s root-bound houseplants.
Stacey, who’d been recruited as Annie’s assistant in the messy project, tightened her grip on the uprooted palm tree in her hands, and casually commented, "It sure is nice of you to take care of John’s plants, like this."
The dirt-besmudged woman, kneeling at her feet--scooping soil into a large, clay pot--paused in her work and an amused glint filled her hazel eyes. "Thank you, dear. And, it sure is nice of him to have these plants for me to take care of. It’s my hobby, you know. I suspect he never owned a houseplant ‘til he moved in here," she added, and glanced up, "Did he ever mention how he came to be my tenant?"
The girl shook her head, so Annie smiled and continued. "Well, it was shortly after my husband passed away. I had taken up indoor gardening as a hobby...to sort’a fill in the hours and fight off the loneliness. I just love growing things! I discovered I was quite good at it. So good, in fact, that my apartment was soon wall-to-wall plants!"
The horticulture hobbyist suddenly turned solemn. "Then, one evening, I woke up--barely able to breathe! Somehow, I managed to phone for help. John, and his partner, that nice young man, Mr. DeSoto, arrived within minutes."
Her smile returned, "They were so wonderful! They took such good care of me! Why, even after they brought me to the hospital, they would drop in on me to see how I was feeling. I explained to them how the doctors had found I was allergic to a certain mold which grows in damp soil...and, so, I was going to have to remove all of my beautiful plants from my apartment." Another frown appeared, fleetingly.
Then, she grinned again and continued her narrative. "That’s when John suggested that I build a greenhouse. I told him the backyard wasn’t big enough for one. Then, he said that it was too bad that there weren’t any empty apartments in my building. Because, I could probably turn one of them into a greenhouse easily enough. I told him that was a terrific idea, and that there was going to be an empty apartment--the first of the month. One of my tenant’s lease was going to be up then, and he had decided to move into an apartment closer to L.A.. John was so excited to hear that! But, then he changed his mood suddenly...and left--wishing me green-thumb success with my hobby.
I didn’t know it then, but--at the time--John was desperately searching for an empty apartment, himself. He was having trouble with the other tenants in his building. They would barge in on him at all hours of the night--or keep him awake with their constant partying. He couldn’t get any rest on his days off, and it was really beginning to wear him down. That’s how I found out he was apartment hunting. After John left, I mentioned to Mr. DeSoto that his partner appeared to be ‘all pooped out’. He assured me that there was nothing wrong with his friend that a nice, quiet apartment, in a nice, quiet neighborhood, couldn’t fix..."
The dirt reached the desired level and she motioned for her audience/assisant to place her burden down into the pot. Annie adjusted the palm’s roots just so, and began scooping--and de-clumping--the damp soil again. "Well, let me tell you, I had those plants sold before I even left the hospital! Then, I had Mr. DeSoto bring him by for a ‘visit’..."
The devious old lady got a far away look in her eyes. "I’ll never forget the expression on his face when I handed him the lease--and the keys to his new apartment. I thought he was going to cry. Then, he asked about my plants. I told him there were other hobbies...and he darned near did cry!" She blinked a few times, as her own eyes got a bit misty.
"He had eight with him when he moved in. A-and, every time he ended up in the hospital, he ended up with more plants!" She stopped speaking suddenly and turned rather sad. "As you can see," she motioned to all the greenery, "his work has caused him to end up there much too often," she finished bitterly, but then forced herself to brighten again. "So-o, now I have my greenhouse...and he has his peace and quiet. And, we’re both very happy with the arrangement. Especially me! You see, my husband and I couldn’t have any children of our own...and...well, I like to think of John as the son Rob and I might’ve had."
Annie finished patting the last of the fresh soil in place and glanced up at the girl again. "He’s such a wonderful young man...don’t you think? So gentle...and caring...and considerate of others. In fact, he has all the qualities necessary for a good husband..." she added, rather slyly.
Stacey was amused to find that plants weren’t the only things being planted in John’s apartment that afternoon.
Speaking of John...The paramedic came groaning into the room just then, grimacing and shaking his right hand. "Ahhh--sheeeeesh!" he bemoaned, "I just smashed my finger with the wrench!" he rather pitifully explained. "To top it off, I put the new washer in, right? And it still leaks!"he added, looking--and sounding--extremely flustered.
Stacey grinned, then turned to Mrs. Gereau--the matchmaker--and sarcastically stated, "Yeah...I can see where it’d be real handy to have him around the house, all right!"
Annie was forced to chuckle.
John just stared at them both, looking confused--and like he didn’t appreciate the fact that they were finding his ‘plumbing problems’ so amusing.
************************************
Three plants, twenty minutes, and another new washer later, the pair of picnickers were finally able to depart.
"We’re going in tha-at?!" Stacey exclaimed in horror, as John escorted her up to a once-white, but now completely mud-covered vehicle...of some unrecognizable sort.
"Yeah...Why?"the dirty Land Rover’s driver wondered, as he unlocked its doors.
"It’s filthy!"
"Nah-ah...well...I was sort a’ hoping it would rain..." the vehicle’s owner/operator nervously confessed, as he pulled the back hatch, upon which some passerby had scrawled WASH ME, open and packed their picnic paraphernalia safely inside.
"Annie could pot two plants in the dirt on this...thi-ing!" a frowning Miss Ferrel informed the fireman with the filthy form of transportation.
John had spent most of his morning packing, and the remainder preparing for their picnic. Between the two projects, he’d become so preoccupied, he’d forgotten all about breakfast. "So, I’ll wash it," he promised, with a persuasive smile, "Right after we eat," he tacked on and gave his protesting tummy a quick tap. He pulled the passenger door open, and his date reluctantly climbed aboard.
************************************
'Flows and flows of angels' hair...and, ice cream castles in the air...' John sang to himself, as he watched a lone puffy-white cloud sail across the patch of sunny blue sky directly over his head. He was lying on a blanket, in a secluded little clearing, along the wooded west bank of the San Gabriel River. The peaceful sound of water, trickling over stones, filled his ears, and there was a gentle breeze caressing his face and tugging at his hair. No doubt about it. The arduous fifteen minutes of hiking had been well worth it. For, the fireman realized with a slight smile, he was completely 'relaxed'.
He heard Stacey calling him, and propped himself up on his elbows to see what she wanted.
The girl waded out of the river and began unrolling her pant legs. "How in the world did you ever find this unbelievably beautiful place?"
"We got called out here a couple a' months ago...to rescue a little boy...and his duck."
"Oh," Stacey simply acknowledged and dropped onto her butt beside him on the blanket.
"O-Oh?" Gage stared at the beautiful girl in confusion. "Aren't you curious?"
"Kind a'. But, you're not supposed to be thinking about your work. So, I'm not gonna let you talk about it. You thirsty?"
"Kind a'," the disappointed paramedic further parroted. It had been a real 'interesting' shift and he was just dying to relate the rescue to someone. "Thanks," he added, as she pulled a soda from their picnic basket and passed it to him. He rolled onto his side and appreciatively eyed his pretty date. 'Speaking of beautiful views...' he mused, and his slight smile reappeared. "I'm gonna hafta call Chet and tell him I can't go tonight."
The girl's pretty face filled with horror. "W-Wha-at?!" she shouted and quickly followed up her stammered exclamation with a commanding--and rather demanding, "Why-y?!"
"I don't think I can make it through two weeks without being able to look into your eyes."
Stacey groaned and dropped back onto the blanket. "Don't scare me like that! I thought you were serious."
"I am," Gage assured her. "Your eyes have...'medicinal' qualities."
"So do vacations!" she quickly came back, and then firmly added, "You have to get away for awhile! Doctor's orders!" Stacey studied the handsome young man lying at her side. "Are you serious about my eyes...or, are you just being mushy?"
John gently brushed a few stray strands of long, blonde hair back from the girl's pretty face and softly replied, "The very first thing I noticed about you, were your beautiful, green eyes. And, believe me, eyes aren't usually the first thing I notice on a girl. Not that you don't have any other outstanding qualities..." he quickly added, and his slight smile broadened.
The girl laughed and continued to just gaze across at her dreamy date. Speaking of outstanding qualities, Stacey suddenly realized how much she loved that lopsided grin of his. 'Speaking of missing things...' she further, realized. "Ooops! Sorry. I forgot you were starving. Guess I should have waited until after we ate to go wading, huh..." she teased and sat bolt upright again, to begin rummaging through their box of provisions. She pulled two plastic-wrapped PB&J's from the basket and passed one on to the famished fireman on the blanket beside her. Well, close contact did cause her to 'breathe funny'...she did get all ‘weak in the knees’...her heart did go ‘pitter-patter’! And, being with him really was wonderful and exciting! Stacey opened her sandwich up and stared nervously down at it. 'The moment of truth...' she mentally noted, and hesitated to take that 'telling' first bite.
Seeing the way the girl was eyeing her lunch, the picnic preparer exhaled an exasperated gasp and glumly confessed, "I should have fixed us something fancier. But, I didn't wanna buy a bunch of groceries when I knew I was gonna be gone for two wee--"
"--The food's fine!" the dallying diner quickly reassured her troubled host, "Honest!" she added, and took a big bite. Stacey had everything she could do to swallow. It seemed her tummy was all a 'twitter'. 'At the moment, I just don't seem to have any appetite...' she realized, solely to herself, and blinked a tear of joy from her eyes. She flashed the guy she'd become 'emotionally involved' with--over the past few weeks--a sweet smile and licked the peanut butter from her lips. "In fact," she continued, when she could, "this is the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I've ever tasted!"
The fireman breathed a big sigh of relief, and his frown turned quickly--and crookedly--upside down.
*********************************************************
Upon Stacey's insistence, the pair of returning picnickers had pulled into the first car-wash they'd come across.
The fireman was balancing on his front bumper, busily soaping down the vehicle’s hood.
Stacey had been recruited to rinse the suds off.
The soaper suddenly noticed that his assistant was daydreaming and spraying water onto the pavement instead of his car. "Hey! We can’t afford to waste any a’ that stuff. We are in a severe drought situation here."
The dreamer snapped back to reality, "Sorry."
"Besides," Gage tacked on with a grin, "The dollar bill changer machine is out of order and I only have one quarter left."
Stacey did her level best to look sympathetic. But, a slight smile betrayed her. "When was the last time you washed this thing?...Can’t remember back that far, huh," she added, when the thing’s owner had to stop and think. The water stopped running.
John dug his last quarter out and flipped it to her. "It was on a Saturday afternoon, the first weekend in March," he smugly replied.
The girl was unimpressed. She set the limp hose down, hurried over to a coin slot and dropped the quarter into it. Then she reluctantly retrieved the nozzle and returned to her rinsing. "I could’ve washed my car three times, by now!" she stated, sounding more than a bit bored.
Gage glanced up and grinned again. "You call that dinky little thing you drive a car?" He snickered. "It looks more like something you’d find at the bottom of a Cracker Jacks box."
Stacey’s green eyes narrowed. "I’ll have you know that I get over 50 miles to the gallon with that ‘thing’!"
It was the paramedic’s turn to be unimpressed. "Oh, yeah? Well, I get over 23 with this!" he countered and gave his vehicle’s sudsy hood a few affectionate pats. "Plus, I have plenty of room to sleep and four-wheel drive for going over rough terrain and getting through the mud. If you drove into a mud puddle with that teeny weenie little thing of yours," he snickered again, "you’d probably disappear!"
The girl grinned deviously and turned the hose on him.
"Ah-ahhh!" John gasped as the icy spray took his breath away. Then he jumped down and went chasing after the now fleeing female.
Stacey sprayed him again. When the hose reached the end of its length, she tossed it and took off running.
The pair raced around the Rover a few times, until the girl began laughing so hard she couldn’t run anymore.
Gage caught her by the wrist, dragged her back over to the hose, and picked up the nozzle. But, before he could point it at her, the water stopped running.
The still-giggling girl doubled-up with laughter.
John laughed right along with her.
Gradually, the giggles subsided and Stacey straightened back up.
The two of them just stood there for a few moments, breathing hard...and staring into each other’s mirth-moistened eyes.
Then the paramedic pulled the pretty, panting girl up into his arms and tenderly kissed her.
*************************************
"If I would’ve known it was going to involve all of this," the pretty, posing miss pouted, "I would never have agreed to let you take my picture!"
It was sunset, and the pair of picnickers were now standing--barefoot--on a deserted stretch of ocean beach.
"Quit complaining and just enjoy the view," the photographer advised and kept right on playing with his camera’s aperture.
"If you don’t hurry it up, you’re going to miss your plane!"
"I told you, I’m already packed. Besides, we’re on the redeye. Our plane’s not leaving for another four hours, yet."
Stacey sighed in surrender and reluctantly changed the subject. "Did you really take all of those incredible silhouette photos in your apartment?"
John nodded. "It’s a hobby a’ mine."
"Well, you’re very good at it."
"Thanks. Now, I’m gonna need you to stand sideways. You see, I’m going for your profile."
The girl sighed again and moved into the requested position.
"Just a little to the left. I want you standing right in the center of the sun."
Stacey grinned. She’d never been asked to stand in the center of the sun before.
"A little more...Perfect!" the picky picture-taker proclaimed. "Okay. Thanks. I got it," he added, following a few clicks and whi-irrs .
The girl gasped in relief and allowed herself to look around. She gasped again. The view was breathtaking! "Oh!...Wo-ow!" she exclaimed.
The fireman finished stowing his photographic equipment in his car, and returned to the water’s edge.
"Beautiful, isn’t it!" Stacey quietly commented and stood there, transfixed by both the scenery and the soothing sound of the surf.
Gage was studying the girl’s glowing face. He could see the setting sun’s reflection in her eyes. "Yes...it certainly is!" he softly agreed.
Stacey shot her companion a sideways glance, saw that he wasn’t even looking out at the sunset, and gave him a playful shove.
John lost his balance and went down on all fours. He latched onto to laughing girl’s wrist and pulled her to her knees, as well. A huge wave came rolling in and swamped them both. John scrambled to his feet and dragged his date further up the beach.
They stood there, laughing at themselves for getting caught off-guard.
The paramedic pulled the pretty girl back into his arms, held her close and kissed her...again. Just like the first time, his head began to spin. He could feel his heart start throwing PVCs.
‘Wo-ow!’ Stacey mentally repeated and melted into his embrace. "Let’s build a sandcastle!" she suddenly suggested, when the couple, at last, came up for air.
The fireman was tremendously disappointed. Building a sandcastle could never hold a candle to kissing her! "I’d rather hold you..."
"Plea-ease?" the pretty miss pleaded and gave him a persuasive smile.
"A sandcastle, huh?" Gage grumbled. Then he reluctantly released his hold on her and began heading towards the water’s edge again. He walked into the surf, right up to his knees and let another cool wave wash over him.
Stacey struggled desperately not to laugh. "Now where are you going?" she wondered, as he dripped past her.
"To my car," he called back. "to get some matches and some wood...to start a fire! It’ll be dark soon and we’ll be needing some light...so we can see to build our...sandcastle!" he glumly finished, failing miserably to hide the extreme disappointment he was still experiencing.
"You carry your own wood around with you?"
"Yup!" the paramedic proudly confessed. "I believe in being prepared."
Stacey shook her pretty, blonde head a few times and then flashed her Boy Scout an appreciative smile.
********************************
A little while later, Gage and the girl were kneeling in front of an enormous mountain of sculpted sand, putting the finishing touches on their sandcastle...by flickering firelight.
John kept stopping to stare at Stacey. He loved the way the flames’ reflections lit up the girl’s lovely face, and caused her long strands of blonde hair to shine like fine-spun gold.
The girl saw him piling sand into a giant mound with no apparent purpose. "What are you making?"
Gage glanced down. "Uhhh...The dragon."
"The dragon?"
"Yeah. Every castle has to have a dragon. Preferably fire-breathing. That way, when the dragon attacks the castle, the princess will be sure to call the fire department." He grinned and crawled even closer. "And, that way, I’ll get to rescue her!" He took her hand in his and kissed it...and her wrist...and her arm...and her shoulder...and her neck. "What?" he wondered when the girl began backing off a bit. "Don’t you want me to rescue you?"
"That depends...on what you’d do with me once you’d rescued me." Stacey stopped to stare off across the water. "You see, my mother told me that guys like popular girls. She said what they liked about them was that they liked to take them to bed..." she turned back to witness John’s reaction to her soft-spoken words.
The guy looked thoughtful.
Stacey continued. "The unpopular girls, the ones with morals and values, she said that guys liked to take them home to meet mom and dad. So-o, I decided--long ago--that there was more to life than just being popular. This princess wants her story to end: And, they lived happily ever after. Can you understand?" she inquired hopefully.
"I didn’t think there were any old-fashioned princesses left in this world," he answered, sounding genuinely amazed.
"You think that I’m a fool..."
"He-ey, no way! In fact, I respect and admire you. It takes a great deal of courage to be old-fashioned these days."
Stacey blinked her watering eyes. The tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
Gage saw the girl’s tears glistening in the fire’s light. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a reassuring hug.
"I have your respect and admiration. But, can an old-fashioned princess ever find true love in a modern world?" the woman wondered, sounding a bit bitter.
John just knelt there for a while, holding her and gazing into the fire. "A guy could very easily fall in love with you, princess," he whispered finally, "very easily..." he quietly repeated. Then he closed his eyes and held her even tighter.
The old-fashioned girl smiled and snuggled cozily up in his arms.
The two held onto each other for a long time.
Eventually, the paramedic pulled back from their embrace and kissed her softly on the forehead...then on her nose...then, their lips met.
Stacey started to melt down again.
Realizing that the girl was surrendering to his...advances, John suddenly pulled free. "I shall protect your...honor with my life, my Lady," he vowed and then stood.
"What are you doing?!" his lady demanded, as she was suddenly swooped up in his arms. "Put me down!" she pleaded and began rapping him on the shoulders. "Put me down!" she screamed again, seeing that he was heading for the water. "What are you doing?!" the panicked girl repeated.
Gage ignored her and walked right into the cold surf. "I am protecting your honor...from a very dragon-like fireman."
Stacey laughed and then gasped as they both got completely drenched by a cool incoming wave. She pulled a long strand of soggy seaweed from her protector’s sopping wet head. "We’d better get you back to your place and dried off. You have a plane to catch! Remember?"
John just stood there for a few more moments, holding her in his arms. He grinned as he realized he was feeling pretty relaxed...all things considered.
**************************************
Stacey had borrowed her rich roomy’s roomy black BMW to take the two travelers to their plane. That way, neither of them would have to pay the Airport Parking fee.
John was standing in front of LAX’s main terminal, holding their lovely volunteers’ hands in his. "I’m gonna miss you, Stacey Ferrel."
"So, call."
"I can’t see your eyes over the phone."
"Call anyways. I’ll pick you guys up when you get back."
Kelly pulled the last of their luggage from the car’s spacious trunk. "Thanks for the lift," he said and gave the girl a wave. He gave his dallying companion an impatient gasp and pointed to his watch. "C’mon, John! If we miss this flight, we miss them all!"
Gage kissed the girl softly on the forehead. "See yah in two weeks..." He gave her hands a final squeeze and forced himself to pull away. "I must be out of my mind," he mumbled to himself and reluctantly picked up his suitcases.
"Goodbye!" the girl called after him. "I hope you have a really great vacation!"
John glanced back over his shoulder, saw the sad look on Stacey’s face and started to set his suitcases back down.
Chet shoved him in the door’s direction.
Gage groaned and begrudgingly followed Kelly into the terminal. ‘I gotta be certifiably insane!’
*****************************
The two tardy travelers hurried over to the airline desk and checked their luggage in. Then they turned and went trotting off across the terminal in search of a people mover. Owing to the late hour, they were able to continue running down the handy device’s already-in-forward-motion conveyor belt.
The now panting pair made it to their departure gate--just as their flight’s final boarding call was being announced.
The firemen quickly found their seats and collapsed into them with audible sighs of relief.
"Hey!...Cool!" Kelly breathlessly exclaimed. "I’ve never flown...on a 747 before....Have you?"
Gage, who was still breathing too hard to speak, just shook his head.
"Say," his chatty chum continued, "isn’t this...the airlines Julie works for?"
John nodded. "But, this is a domestic flight....She’s strictly...international."
"Oh...Right." Chet studied his fatigued friend’s face for a few moments. "Yah know, in a couple more weeks, you’re gonna have yourself a fairly decent cookie duster."
"No I’m not. Because I’m shaving it off the moment we arrive."
"Why-y?"
"Because my upper lip is no longer so sore. And, because having all that hair above your mouth is high maintenance. Talk about your milk mustaches. And, the crumbs! Man! I don’t know how you can stand it. I was supposed to get rid of it before we left. But, I kind a’ ran out of time."
"You’re makin’ a bi-ig mistake," his mustached amigo informed him. "I’m tellin’ yah, Gage, the chicks love ‘em!"
"Yeah...Ri-ight."
"No-o. Really! If you let it grow out, I’ll bet yah five bucks that Stacey will absolutely love it!"
Gage thought the wager over for a few moments before, begrudgingly, accepting his companion’s proffered palm.
Chet grinned. The bet was now a done deal. After all, they’d just shook on it. "Speakin’ a’ Stacey..." the Irishman’s eyes narrowed deviously. "She and this Jerry fellah must be pretty good friends for him to let her borrow his car like that..."
John’s eyes suddenly sparkled with a bit of mischief, as well. "Oh...They’re more than just good friends. They’re roommates."
Kelly’s look of amusement quickly turned to one of amazement. "Na-ah!"
"It’s true. In fact, they’ve been living together--off and on--for years!"
"And, you’re okay with that?"
"Hey, if it doesn’t bother Gerry, it doesn’t bother me."
Chet’s face scrunched up in disgust. "Man! You are totally twisted!"
His totally twisted traveling companion chuckled inwardly. Then he turned and beamed a broad smile of satisfaction out the plane’s darkened window. ‘Well, well, well. This just might be fun, after all...’
***********************************
Seven hours and twenty-two minutes later, the Redeye’s red-eyed passengers touched down in Detroit, Michigan. The clock on the terminal wall told them it was 11:02.
Gage glanced at his watch. It was only 8:02, back in L.A.."Man, we just flew through three time zones!" He reset his timepiece and turned to the possessor of their travel plans. "When’s our next flight leave?"
"8:15..." Chet nervously replied. Then he cleared his throat and reluctantly added, "...this evening."
John’s already dropped jaw sagged even lower. "You have got to be joking!"
Kelly cringed and slipped his understandably upset companion a slightly crumpled piece of paper.
The still completely dumbstruck paramedic opened it. It was, apparently, the first page of Newcomb’s ‘itinerary’...a page he’d never seen before. ‘Breakfast with Bob and Beth...Lunch with Jim and Phylis...Spend afternoon visiting the Green Field Village and Henry Ford Museum’? Gage glanced up from his reading. "You have got to be joking!" he hopefully restated.
"Jerry claims they have a really cool collection of antique rigs and a lot of other neat fire fighting artifacts. C’mon, John!" Chet urged, "It’ll be fun! Besides, we could both use a bit a’ ‘culture’."
Gage’s angry glare softened. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "How do we get there?"
"The museum’s in Dearborn, which is only a few miles west a’ here. We kin grab our coats, stash our luggage in some rental lockers and grab a cab."
"If we miss this flight, we miss them all?" John grumbled, as they headed off down one of the terminal’s many corridors, to claim and stow their luggage.
Chet shrugged. "Well, I couldn’t tell you that we had a 12 hour layover when we landed. You would have never left L.A.."
"You got that right!"
****************************************************
Instead of an afternoon, the pair spent the entire day touring the Green Field Village and Henry Ford Museum. They got back to Detroit Metro just in time to board a North Central DC-10 to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
Their flight was full when they left Detroit and the two L.A. County Firefighters were somewhat relieved. Apparently, Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was a pretty popular destination.
Unfortunately, the flight was not nonstop.
"I think we’ve flown more vertically than horizontally," John joked, after having touched down in Flint, Saginaw, Grand Rapids, Menominee and Escanaba.
At each airport, more and more passengers had disembarked and fewer and fewer had boarded. So that, by the time the two reached the last leg of their journey, they were the only paying customers left on the plane.
Finally, the pilot announced that they had reached their destination: Marquette County Airport.
As the plane taxied up to the little terminal, Gage glanced at his watch. It was 11:45 p.m. Marquette time. It had taken them nearly an entire day of travel just to get there...wherever there was.
The Californians stepped down from their plane and onto...bare pavement? They glanced around the well-lit area. Except for a small patch up against one of the terminal buildings, there didn’t appear to be a single flake of snow--anywhere!
John shivered and slipped his jacket back on. "Five feet of snow, huh? My refrigerator, back in L.A., has more frost in it than this!"
Chet just stood there, looking bewildered. "It was here last week." He turned to one of the baggage handlers. "Excuse me. What happened to all your snow?"
"We got a week a’ warm rains and it melted."
"We came all the way from California!" Kelly exclaimed. "We even missed the rain!" he pouted pitifully.
The baggage handler saw their disappointed expressions and grinned. "Yeah...Well...We have a saying around here: If you don’t like the weather in the U.P., wait five minutes and it’ll change!"
"C’mon," Gage glumly grumbled and began heading for the terminal, "Let’s see about getting out of here."
"Give the place a chance, will yah!" Kelly requested, as he caught up with him, "We just got here!"
"Okay. Okay. I’ll give it five minutes. And then, I’m catching the next flight out of here!"
They entered the tiny terminal.
******************************************
Gage turned away from the North Central Airlines’ desk. Kelly came staggering up to him, carrying all four pieces of their luggage. John flashed him his frown. "The next flight out of here isn’t until tomorrow morning."
"Ahhh...too bad," Kelly insincerely said and gave Gage a grateful grin, as he took two of the heavy cases from him. "Let’s pick up our rental and head for our hotel. I’m starved!"
"We don’t need to rent a car for one night. There’s a cab right out front," the paramedic added and pointed to the vehicle visible through the glass doors.
They stepped out of the terminal and into...an icy drizzle?
Gage glanced at his watch again. It was 11:50. ‘Na-ah...It’s just a coincidence.’
"How ‘bout that!" Kelly exclaimed, with a grin, "It’s raining...sort of." He shivered his way over to their cab. "It’s been so long since I’ve seen rain, I almost forgot what it’s like."
*****************************************
The manager of the Ramada Inn reached across the check-in counter and handed his guests their room keys. "Mr. Gage, Mr. Kelly...I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If you need anything, just ring for room service."
"Thank you," Mr. Gage told him. "Oh, and we have to be out to the airport by 8:00 a.m.. Could you have someone ring our rooms around six, or so?"
"I’m sorry to hear you’re leaving us so soon. Yes, of course, we’ll give you a wake up call at six. Good evening, gentlemen."
Kelly pocketed his key and picked up his suitcases. "Goodnight," he dejectedly grumbled.
They strolled past an indoor pool and started up the stairs to the second floor balcony.
"Do we have to leave in the morning?" Chet pouted. "I like this place!"
"You don’t have to leave. You can stay. Maybe you could water ski?"
"I don’t want to have to stay here by myself. I don’t know anybody."
"You could always look up Ann and Gary."
"Hey, I was right about the museum, wasn’t I?"
"Yeah. I must admit that was pretty cool."
"So, give this place a chance. C’mon, Gage! Where’s your sense of adventure?"
"Back in L.A....with the rest of my senses."
They reached their rooms.
Chet set his suitcases down and began fumbling for his key.
John already had his key in his hand. So, before Kelly could even get his door opened, he had entered his room, dropped his luggage and collapsed onto his bed.
A few moments later, the Irishman reappeared. "How ‘bout that!" he exclaimed as he stepped through a portal in the wall and up to his collapsed companion. "I thought this was the bathroom."
"Goodnight, Chet!"
"You’re not turning in already? If we’re only gonna be here for one night, let’s make the most of it. Didn’t you see that poster in the lobby? ‘MaryAnn Entertaining Nightly In The Discoverer’s Lounge’." Kelly picked his fellow firefighter’s feet up and swung his long legs over and off the bed. "Let’s go get ‘entertained’," he cheerily invited. "Let’s go ‘discover’ ‘MaryAnn’..."
But, Gage didn’t budge. "Goodnight, Chet!"
"At least come and have something to eat..."
John lifted his legs back onto the bed and rolled over. "I’m too beat to eat."
Kelly gazed glumly down at his motionless mate. "Yeah. And too pooped to party." He exhaled a resigned sigh and then disappeared back through the door between their adjoining rooms.
***************************************
John Gage gradually became aware of a strange humming sound...and the distinct odor of stale cigarette smoke. He snapped bolt upright in his bed and gazed rather dazedly around. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. The strange hum seemed to be coming from a radiator running along the wall and the stale cigarette smoke smell was emanating from the curtains, carpeting and upholstery of his hotel room. ‘It has to be past six,’ he realized, noticing how light it was out. ‘I wonder why they didn’t call?’ He flicked the little light beside his bed on and squinted down at his watch. "Ten to ten!" he shouted and swung out of bed. "We missed our plane!" The hotel’s angry guest grabbed the phone on his night stand and dialed the desk. "Yes. This is room 222. Why wasn’t I called this morning?!...What do you mean ‘closed’? Doesn’t your airport open on Sundays?...A blizzard?" He glanced towards the window. "But, it was just raining last night..." his words trailed off, as he recalled what the baggage handler had told them: ‘If you don’t like the weather in the U.P., wait five minutes and it’ll change.’ "All right...I see...Yes. And, thanks for letting me sleep in, then. I appreciate it...Yeah...Bye." He hung up and hurried over to the window. He stood there, staring out at a fantasy world--a winter wonderland. "Good grief!" he said aloud, "There must be a foot already and it’s still coming down!" The paramedic smiled and continued to just stand there, transfixed by the big, fluffy, white flakes that were sifting past his window. ‘Wait til Chet sees this!’ he mused. He pulled himself away from the wondrous sight and poked his head through the portal between their abodes. Kelly’s room was dark. His window’s shades were drawn and his phone was off the hook. John stared at the still-snoozing figure and debated whether or not to wake him. Determining that it might be best to let his night-owl friend sleep, he pulled his head back into his room and quietly closed the door.
***********************************
Forty-five minutes later, John stepped lightly down the stairs of the Ramada Inn and into the Settler’s Dining Room. He was showered and shaved and starving! The tourist took a seat by the windows, so he could watch the snow fall.
A pretty, young waitress stepped up his table and handed him a menu. "Good morning!"
Gage tore his gaze away from the windows. "Good morning! Isn’t that beautiful!" he exuberantly exclaimed and motioned to the snowstorm--that was still raging.
The girl gave him a strange look. "You can’t be from around here, or you’d be sick a’ that Michigan dandruff by now."
"Michigan dandruff, huh? Well, it sure beats Southern California drought!"
The little lady was dumbstruck. "Why would anyone ever leave sunny California...and come to the U.P.?!"
"Would you believe...just to see that?" the Californian inquired and pointed to the fluffy flying flakes.
The girl grinned and shook her head. "Would you like some coffee or breakfast while you watch?"
"Yes, please. Both." The paramedic was about to peruse the restaurant’s menu, when he heard a woman scream.
The paramedic turned in the scream’s direction in time to see an elderly gentleman slump down in his seat at a table in the room’s far corner.
The woman seated beside him jumped to her feet and screamed again, "Please?! Somebody call an ambulance!" Before she could even finish her sentence, the gentleman by the windows was at their table.
"What happened, mam?" John asked and carefully lowered the obviously unconscious man to the floor. He knelt beside the victim, opened the guy’s airway and checked for a corotid pulse.
"I...I don’t know. After shoveling the car out this morning, he was complaining about indigestion. He said that his chest felt...tight. Are you a doctor?"
"No, mam." He couldn’t find a pulse. "Look, I don’t have time to explain. But, I’ve got to hit this man’s chest." And, with that, he struck the victim’s breastbone with his clenched right fist. (Author’s note: Back in the days of "EMERGENCY!", the precardial thump was SOP for a witnessed arrest. It has since been deemed dangerous and pretty much useless.) The victim was no longer breathing. So, Gage gave him four quick, building breaths of air and then rechecked his corotid. Still nothing!
"What are you doing?!" the guy’s distraught wife wondered.
"Mam, I believe your husband has suffered a heart attack. I’m performing CPR...Cardio pulmonary resuscitation," the paramedic patiently explained. He located the tip of the victim’s breastbone...measured up two finger widths and placed the heel of his left hand down. He placed his right hand over his left and interlocked his fingers. "One..." he counted aloud and pressed firmly down, compressing the gentleman’s heart between his breastbone and spine--forcing blood out of the heart and through his body, "...and," he released, "...two," he compressed, "...and," he released. Speaking of bones...John’s bruised ribs were rebelling under the strain. He winced in pain but kept right on pressing and releasing--and counting.
The waitress came running up. "An ambulance is on the way!"
Gage gave her a grateful glance.
The hotel’s manager also came rushing into the room. "Is he...dead?"
‘Clinically? Yes. Biologically? No,’ the rescuer thought to himself. Even if he wasn’t too busy at the moment to respond verbally, the paramedic would never have acknowledged such a ‘tactless’ question. "...fifteen. You have a pool. Do you have a resuscitator?" he asked, before giving the victim two more lungfuls of air, mouth-to-mouth.
"Yes. But Jeffrey couldn’t make it in to work today--on account of the storm. And, nobody else around here knows how to use it."
"I do," his guest informed him, and kept right on performing CPR. "Get it! And, send someone up to room 224 and tell Mr. Kelly to get down here!"
The manager turned to the waitress. "Call room 224--!"
"You can’t! His phone’s off the hook! Please! Just somebody go get him!" the rapidly tiring rescuer with the really sore ribs repeated.
The girl nodded and left.
Five series of compressions and breaths later, Mr. Kelly came flying into the room. "Ga-age! What are you doing?!"
The manager followed, towing the hotel’s resuscitator.
"Chet! Am I glad to see you! Take over for me, so I can set up the O2!"
Kelly dropped to the floor and knelt there, frowning. ‘Ma-an, Doctor Brackett is never gonna believe this!’
"No-ow!" John shouted and jerked his hands out of the way.
Kelly took over compressions for him.
Before setting up the oxygen, Gage paused a moment--to regroup. Fortunately for the victim, the device was one that the fireman was familiar with. The paramedic glanced up and saw tears streaming down the victim’s wife’s face. He took a few more precious moments to reassure her. "The ambulance should be here any minute now," he softly said and gave her wrung hands a few comforting pats.
She gazed down at the kind stranger, her eyes brimming with both tears and gratitude.
"Mrs....?"
"Valinski. Mrs. Stephen Valinski."
"Mrs. Valinski, is your husband allergic to any medication?...Is he on any medication?" he continued, when she shook her head ‘no’. Another ‘no’. "Does he have a history of heart problems?"
"No. I told him we should just stay home this morning. But, it’s our 40th wedding anniversary and he wanted to take me out to breakfast. The snow was too wet...too heavy. I wanted him to hire one of the neighbor boys to shovel out the car. But, he wouldn’t hear of it."
Gage finished what he was doing and shot the guy’s poor wife another sympathetic glance. He exhaled an impatient gasp and glanced at his watch. "How far is it to the hospital?"
"This blizzard has a lot of the streets blocked off," the manager said. "The plows have’nt opened them all up, yet. The hospital is only a few blocks away. But, they may have had to take a longer route..."
Suddenly, sirens could be heard in the distance. The sound grew louder and louder and then stopped.
Gage breathed an enormous sigh of relief, as two ambulance attendants entered the restaurant, wheeling another resuscitator and a stretcher. He stood and deftly switched their victim’s oxygen supply from the hotel’s to the hospital’s. Kelly had to pause compressions while they lifted the man onto the gurney. "Okay, Chet. I’ll take over from here," John announced and gently nudged his assistant out of the way. "I’m riding in with him."
"No way, Johnny! You’re not supposed to be do--"
"--I’ll walk back. It’s only a few blocks."
"Bu-ut...you don’t even have your jacket!" Kelly gave up, as Gage disappeared--along with the attendants and their victim. ‘We just got here and...Hell, I can’t even believe this!’
*********************************************
Several slippery, snow-covered streets later...
The ambulance pulled up to Marquette General North’s Emergency Receiving. The back doors popped open and John Gage hopped out. The attendants wheeled Mr. Valinski into one of the treatment rooms.
"The victim’s name is Stephen Valinski," the paramedic informed the ER doc, "He’s been in cardiac arrest for the past 22 minutes. He’s not on any medication. No known allergies and no previous history of heart problems. I witnessed the arrest, administered a precardial thump and began CPR, immediately. As soon as a resuscitator became available, I placed him on 10 liters of O2."
"I don’t suppose you can stick around for awhile?" Stephen’s physician hopefully inquired. "This stupid storm prevented over half of our staff from showing up. Which has left us extremely shorthanded."
The paramedic shoved a little step-stool over to the table, stepped up onto it and promptly made both of his hands available...again. He continued to perform CPR.
The doc placed the electrocardiogram sensors into position, while the only nurse available started an IV.
**********************************
Five minutes--a few doses of some powerful drugs, and three defibrillations--later, John watched a familiar spiked pattern begin to dance across their victim’s cardiac monitor. "All right! We got a conversion! He’s in sinus rhythm!"
The trio exchanged triumphant grins.
"He would have been DOA, if it hadn’t been for you, doctor!" the young ER physician told his CPR administering assistant. Then, he turned to the nurse and started issuing a whole slew of orders. "...and then get him up to CCU, stat!" he finally finished. The nurse nodded. He and his handy assistant left the room.
"I’m not a doctor, doctor...?"
"Hunter. Tim Hunter," the physician replied and stood there, looking quite puzzled.
"John Gage. Fireman Paramedic. Los Angeles County," his assistant said and extended a hand, once more.
Hunter took and shook the paramedic’s proffered palm. "Well, John...you sure had me fooled! You seem to know more about emergency medicine than some doctors around here!"
"Thanks! I get an awful lot of practice."
"You know, you’re the first paramedic I’ve ever met. And, I must say, I’m very impressed!"
"Thank you for the compliment. Don’t you have any p.m.s in Michigan?"
"We might. But, I don’t know of any. What brings you to the Upper Peninsula?"
"Snow."
"That’s usually why people leave here to go to Southern California. Do you ski?"
"No-o...no. I see enough broken bones on other people. Enough to know that I don’t want to have any of my own!"
Hunter grinned, "Smart!"
They reached the waiting room by the ER’s main entrance.
"Mrs. Valinski, this is Doctor Hunter. Dr. Hunter is in charge of your husband’s care..." John introduced, as their patient’s spouse approached them.
"Your husband is stable, for now. We’re moving him to the Coronary Care Unit, where we’ll be keeping a very close eye on him."
"Oh! Thank you, doctor!"
"Don’t thank me. Thank Mr. Gage, here. Your husband is very fortunate that John wasn’t staying at the Holiday Inn."
"Thank you, young man!" Mrs. Valinski sincerely said and gave Mr. Gage a huge hug.
"You’re very welcome...?"
"Margaret. But, you can call me Peggy."
"Well, Peggy, I hope you and your husband get to celebrate many, many more anniversaries--together. And, you can just call me John."
"That is so sweet of you, John. If you aren’t a doctor, how did you know what to do for my husband?"
"You don’t have to be a doctor to administer Basic Life Support. Anybody can learn Basic Life Support. Even you could’ve done what we did. It just takes a few hours of proper instruction."
Dr. Hunter glanced at his watch, "Oh, my...I have to be in surgery in fifteen minutes. John, do you need a lift back to your hotel?"
"I’m gonna walk. They said it’s only a few blocks from here."
The doctor stared at him in disbelief. "You start walking around Marquette, Michigan in a blinding snowstorm--without a jacket--and they’ll be bringing you in here on a stretcher, next!"
Gage glanced down at his light, cotton shirt and grimaced.
Hunter grinned. "C’mon. I’ll loan you mine. You can leave it at the desk."
*****************************************
"Where have you been?!" Kelly anxiously inquired an hour later, as his soggy associate finally came stomping through the main entrance to the Ramada Inn. "How long does it take to walk a few blocks?"
Gage’s socks were soaked and his feet were frozen. His pant legs were damp up to the knees and his hair was also wringing wet. He’d been tossing snowballs at street signs and trees. So, his hands were now hurting from the cold. The Californian didn’t care. He’d had a blast! He stomped some more Michigan dandruff from his shoes and then blew on his stiff, red fingers, in a futile attempt to warm them. He shivered and then smiled, as he suddenly realized he wasn’t just cold and hungry, he was also completely relaxed. The wayward walker grinned and pointed to the watermark on his jeans, "Look how deep it is! Man! It’s really coming down out there!"
"Don’t change the subject. What happened, Johnny boy?" Chet taunted, "Did you get lo-ost?"
Gage’s grin broadened. "Hey! What can I say? The street signs were all covered with snow."
"Ah-hah!" Kelly gloated, "I knew it! I knew it! You better get out of those wet clothes. Whose jacket did you rip off?"
"Dr. Hunter loaned me his. He’s coming by to pick it up, later on this afternoon." John slid the soggy garment off and sloshed over to the front desk. "Can I leave this here? Someone’ll be comin’ by ta claim it...hopefully, after it’s had a chance to dry out a little."
"Sure. No problem. I’ll drape it over a chair by the register," the pretty desk clerk proposed.
"Thanks!"
John slooshed through the lobby and past the pool. "Have you eaten yet?"
"Yeah. The food’s not bad," Kelly critiqued and followed his frozen friend up the steps to their floor.
***********************************
John Gage entered the Settler’s Dining Room--again--feeling much dryer but still chilled to the bone. He stepped up to a huge, stone, gas fireplace and then stood there, warming his stiff, cold hands...and thinking. He was thinking about Stacey...about the drastic change in climate...about Stacey...about his empty stomach...about Stacey...about everything but his work.
The same pretty waitress approached him. "Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in," she apologized. "How’s that guy with the heart attack?"
The fireplace hugger turned around and began warming his backside, "Last I heard, he was doin’ okay."
"That’s great!" the girl relievedly remarked. "Do you want to try ordering again?"
"Yeah!" the disrupted diner enthusiastically exclaimed. His blood sugar was now so low, he was about to pass out, himself! "You still serving breakfast?...Or, is it brunch now?"
"Hu-uh?" the bewildered waitress wondered and handed Mr. Valinski’s handsome rescuer another menu.
"You know, when you combine breakfast and lunch together."
The little lady smiled and pulled out her order pad. "You can order breakfast anytime of the day around here. Shall I give you some time to study the menu? Or, do you already know what you want to...brunch on?"
At that point, John didn’t particularly care what he consumed--as long as it was something edible. Firefighters couldn’t afford to be picky eaters. Besides, his defrosting fingers were still too stiff to be turning pages. He smiled and passed the menu back to her, unopened. "Just bring me whatever you fed my friend," he suggested, and placed the backs of his hurting hands on his toasty-warm tush.
The girl grinned. "You want coffee with it?"
"Yeah. And, a large milk, please."
**************************************
The woman returned in about as much time as it takes to toast some bread and slice a tomato. "Where are you going to sit?" The dining room was completely deserted. Which meant her customer had his choice of any seat in the house.
The paramedic pulled out the chair closest to the fireplace and plopped himself down onto it. "Thanks," he said, as the girl finished setting her tray’s contents on the table in front of him. Gage glanced around the big empty room. "Would you care to join me?"
"I’d love to! But, I don’t think my boss would approve."
"Go ahead, Sharon..." the hotel’s manager invited, as he came stepping up to them. "I think this snowstorm is going to keep the usual crowd away. So, you can take off early. I’d like to buy the both of you lunch," he announced and offered their guest his hand, "George LaRosse."
The famished fireman got to his feet. "Thank you, Mr. LaRosse," he replied and gave the generous man’s hand a hearty shake.
"Yeah. Thanks, boss!" Sharon exclaimed and hurried off, in the direction of the kitchen.
"Thank you, Mr. Gage," the manager countered.
"John," the Californian corrected.
"John, we could have had a real tragedy here this morning. I was really impressed with the way you handled the situation. Sharon tells me you’re not a doctor. Are you a medical student?"
The paramedic glanced down at his plate. The big, juicy bacon-lettuce-and tomato sandwich it contained made his mouth water. "I’m a fireman paramedic."
"A fireman wha-at?"
"A paramedic is like an EMT...an emergency medical technician. Someone who is trained to administer ALS...Advanced Life Support," Gage patiently explained, over the loud growling of his empty stomach. "You’re welcome to join us..."
"Thank you. But, I have to get back to the desk. I would like to talk to you later on...about that CPR thing...if I could. After what just happened here, it might be prudent to have myself and some of my employees trained in that."
Gage grinned, "I think that’s a great idea!"
"I’ll see you later, then. Enjoy your lunch, John!"
"Thanks! I’m sure I will--" ‘--eventually,’ he silently finished, as Sharon returned--with a big, juicy BLT of her very own. The hungry gentleman stayed standing and pulled a chair out for her.
The girl gave the gallant guy a grateful smile. "Thanks," she muttered, as he helpfully shoved her seat in.
"You’re welcome. And, thanks for joining me for brunch, Sharon...?"
"Linquist. And, thank you for inviting me, John...?"
"Gage. My pleasure, Miss Linquist."
"Sharon," his pretty companion corrected.
"John," the paramedic countered. The brunchers exchanged smiles and handshakes. "Let’s eat!" the faint-feeling fellow with the dangerously low blood sugar level suggested and quickly resumed his seat. "Mmmm! Chet was right," he determined, between chews. "This is really good!"
Speaking of Chet...
Kelly entered the dining room, stepped up to his traveling companion’s table and nonchalantly announced, "There are some guys out in the lobby who want to talk to us." He took a seat beside the pretty gal and flashed her a grin. "Hi, Sharon."
The girl grinned back. "Hi, Chet."
"Sharon and I have a date tonight," Kelly proudly proclaimed and then hintingly added, "She’s got a frie-iend..."
John took a long swallow of milk and another big bite of his sandwich. "Who are they?"
Chet stared at his chum in disbelief. "Don’t you know Sharon? Crime-many, Gage! You’re having lunch with her! I don’t know her lady friend’s name." He turned his perplexed gaze to his date for the evening, "Who’s the friend?"
Gage managed an amused gasp. "I meant the guys in the lobby."
"Oh...I don’t know. But, I think they may be reporters. Cuz a couple of ‘em have cameras."
"Why would reporters wanna talk to us?"
Kelly shrugged. "The manager didn’t say."
Sharon stared at them in amazement. "Are you kidding? It’s not everyday that someone saves someone’s life around here. What happened here, this morning, is big news...for Marquette."
The two California firefighters exchanged confused glances. They didn’t find anything particularly newsworthy about what had happened there that morning. It really was no big deal. Well, except to poor Mr. Valinski...
"Why all the publicity?" John wondered, aloud.
Chet managed another shrug. "Maybe that guy was the mayor?"
"Our mayor is a woman," the even more amazed woman informed him.
Kelly tried again, "The Chief of Police?"
"They’re not here because that man was somebody important. They’re here because you two saved his life, and that makes you heroes. They’re here because you’re heroes."
"Bu-ut, all we did is administer Basic Life Support," the paramedic protested.
"Yeah," his chum chimed in. "Anybody--with the proper training--could have done the same thing."
"How can you be so modest? Honestly, anyone listening to the two of you talk would think you guys go around saving peoples’ lives all the time!"
"Actually, we do," Kelly modestly confessed. "We’re firefighters. It’s what we do for a living. Especially him," he added, and motioned to his still-munching amigo. "Go ahead, Gage. Show her that little card you carry around with you."
The paramedic took another big gulp of his milk. "What little card?"
"You know, the one that says: ‘This certifies, etc., etc..."
Gage slid his wallet out of his back pocket.
Chet snatched it from him and began flipping through it. He found the card in question and held it up in front of the pretty lady’s face.
Sharon held his hand still and read, "This certifies that firefighter John Roderick Gage has met all the necessary requirements...mumble, mumble...qualified Emergency Paramedic...mumble, mumble...administer definitive therapy...mumble, mumble...State of California...County of Los Angeles...California State Board of Medical Examiners." She pulled Chet’s hand down. "You’re a fireman doctor?"
"No. No. I’m a fireman paramedic."
"What’s the difference?"
Seeing as how his friend had gone back to filling his face, Kelly succinctly summed up, "Well, a doctor can treat patients without a paramedic. But, a paramedic can’t treat patients without a doctor."
John suppressed a smile and then latched onto his billfold, which his nosey friend had returned the card to, and was now closely examining. "The difference between a doctor and a paramedic is the degree of training we receive. Doctors spend about seven years in Medical School. In comparison, the Paramedic Program is like an advanced first-aid course."
"So, then...what--exactly--does a paramedic do?"
"A paramedic acts as the eyes, ears and hands of a doctor. When we have a victim of an injury or illness, we see what the problem is...we listen to the complaints...and then we relay that information on to a physician, over the phone. The doctor then tells us how to treat the victim. If it’s something we’ve been trained to do, we do it. If not, we simply stabilize the patient and then transport them to the hospital."
Sharon shook her head in disbelief. "And I thought all firemen did was put out fires."
"We do that, too," Kelly confessed and snuck a few swigs of the paramedic’s coffee. "But most of our rescues don’t even involve fire."
"What happens if something starts burning while you’re off rescuing someone? Someone with a bad heart, for instance..."
"Then, Johnny and Roy take the Squad to the heart attack victim and we take the Engine to the fire."
"Who’s Roy?"
"My partner," the paramedic replied.
"No wonder you think this was no big deal," the girl suddenly realized. "Your work must be so exciting--and dangerous! What happened here this morning must seem pretty tame, by comparison. I bet you guys have had a lot of close calls..."
"As a matter of fact," Kelly began, "just two short weeks ago, Gage, here, had a real close ca--"
"--Che-et!" John suddenly interrupted.
"In fact," his friend calmly continued, "he just got out of the hospital three days ago--"
"--Che-et!" the paramedic repeated and aimed a menacing glare in his mouthy companion’s direction.
"What happened?!" the girl anxiously inquired.
Kelly threw caution to the wind. "He was involved in a rescue where the victim was dying of pneumonia."
"A-and...?"
The storyteller shrugged. "That’s it."
His female audience looked tremendously disappointed. "So, what was the close call?"
Chet drained the cup dry and then aimed his right index finger at his frowning friend. "He was the victim."
Sharon’s jaw dropped.
"His doctor gave him strict orders: No more rescuing! For at least a month! ‘Not even a cat out of a tree!’, his doctor said. And, we aren’t even in town for half a day--"
"--Well, I couldn’t just finish ordering my breakfast and let him die-ie!" John interjected, in his defense.
"Maybe not. But, you didn’t have to ride in with him. And, you should’ve called me sooner!"
"I’ll try to remember that...next time. And, next time, you try to keep your phone on the hook." He reached for his coffee. The cup was empty.
"It was getting cold," the caffeine thief explained, when his annoyed friend’s gaze fell upon him.
Speaking of getting cold...
The still slightly-chilled Californian suddenly excused himself and stepped back over to the fireplace. He stood there, basking in its warm glow...and smiling.
"What do we do about those guys in the lobby?" Kelly wondered.
The paramedic’s smile disappeared. "Is there another way out of here?"
"Yeah," Sharon assured him with a smile. "But, if you leave through the kitchen, you’ll be on the back side of the building. You’ll have to trudge through nearly two feet of snow to get to the side entrances. Because none of the sidewalks have been snow blown. And, if you use any of the emergency exits, alarms’ll start going off."
They were trapped. "Then, I guess we should just go, and get it over with," John glumly surmised.
**************************************
"You didn’t mention that one was a television camera," Gage grumbled beneath his breath, as the two of them stepped up to the small group of guys in the lobby.
"You didn’t ask," Kelly grumbled back.
"Mr. Gage, Mr. Kelly," the hotel’s manager greeted them. "These gentlemen would like to speak with you...if you’re willing, that is," he added, seeing the paramedic’s unhappy expression.
"On one condition," Gage agreed. "No one is to mention the fact that we’re firefighters, or that I’m a paramedic. We don’t want people to get the impression that you’ve got to be a paramedic or a firefighter before you can administer Basic Life Support."
"Yeah," Kelly quickly concurred. "Anyone can learn Basic Life Support. The manager, the waitress, even Mrs. Valinski could’ve done the same thing we did. It just takes a few hours of proper instruction."
The reporters reluctantly agreed to the firefighters’ terms.
********************************
There were three separate interviews, each lasting between ten to fifteen minutes. The first was given to some guy from an FM radio station. The second series of answers--accompanied by photos--were supplied to the city’s only newspaper. Lastly, there was the documented conversation with the roving reporter and camera crew from the local TV station.
Curiously enough, the final question posed to them always turned out to be: ‘Why would anyone, in their right mind, ever want to leave warm and sunny Southern California and spend their vacation in the U.P.?’
Their pat answer was, "Snow!". However, judging by the odd looks that reply always received, the visitors knew their questioners were really thinking: ‘These guys can’t possibly be in their right minds!’
***********************************
Later that snowy afternoon...
Chet was seated on a chair in his chum’s room, reading an article about snowmobiling, in an outdoor magazine.
John was lying on his bed, gazing out the window at the still flying flakes, and concentrating hard on relaxing. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Gage got up and answered it.
It was Doctor Hunter. "Hi, John! I hope I’m not disturbing you."
"No, no-o. C’mon in...." the paramedic spotted the doc’s coat, draped over his arm. "Did it dry out?"
"Yes. It did."
"Oh, Doctor Hunter, this is Chet Kelly," he introduced, as the Irishman came stepping up to them, "Chet, this is the guy whose jacket I ripped off."
Kelly and Hunter shook hands.
"Would you care to sit down?" Kelly inquired and motioned to his vacated seat.
"No. Thanks. I can’t stay. I just stopped by to ask John, here, a quick question. I hate to ask you this. Because I know you’re on your vacation. But, weather permitting, we’re having a meeting Wednesday night to organize a community Emergency Services Pro--"
"--Excuse me, Dr. Hunter," the Irishman interrupted, when he saw where the conversation was headed. "Please, don’t ask him. Cuz’ he’ll accept. And, his doctor gave him strict orders--"
"--Che-et!" the paramedic stepped in front of his friend. "What are you doing?!"
"I’m helping you keep your promise to Doctor Brackett," Kelly calmly replied and then peered around him. "He’s still recovering from a bad case of pneumonia. Plus, he’s suffering from complete physical exhau--"
Gage placed a hand over Chet’s mouth, in desperation.
Kelly quickly pulled it away and completed his sentence, "--tion."
The physician stood there, looking highly amused. "I understand. Thanks for telling me," he told Chet and turned to take his leave.
"Wait, Doc!" John urged and held the door shut.
"It would be unethical to ask you to do something that would go contrary to one of my colleague’s orders. In other words, forget it, John! And, listen to your doctor. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about when I say he knows what he’s talking about," he teased. "It was nice meeting you, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy your stay in the U.P.," he added with a grin.
"Tha-anks!" Kelly called after the disappearing doctor.
John quietly closed the door and slowly turned in his infuriating friend’s direction.
"Don’t blame me-e! Blame your doctor," Chet chided. "Before we left, he made me promise to look after you. Your R&R is s’posed to consist, strictly, of relaxation and recuperation. Brackett’s orders!"
The paramedic’s countenance softened and he gave his guardian a grateful grin. "Ah-ah, gee-ee. Thanks for lookin’ out for me...Mo-om."
His Old Mother Hen of a friend suddenly turned stern. At least, he pretended to. "You’d better watch it, sonny boy! Or I’ll send you to your room."
Sonny boy’s grin broadened. "This i-is my room!"
"Oh...ri-ight," Kelly quietly conceded. "You’d still better watch it, sonny boy! Or I’ll send you to the other room."
The paramedic collapsed back onto his bed and then lay there, looking extremely relaxed...and most amused.
Chet picked his magazine up and then plunked himself back down in his chair--er, John’s chair. The pictures made snowmobiling look so appealing. He glanced up at the window and wondered how long the snow would last. Hopefully, it would stick around long enough for them to give the snow machines a try.
*************************************