by  Doc Sara

Mike Stoker had been very much looking forward to this camping trip with his pals from A-Shift.  It had been quite some time since they were able to coordinate a long weekend in which they were all free for spending some quality time together outside of the fire station.  Johnny had suggested a camping trip.  They all enjoyed the outdoors, so this would be an enjoyable weekend to do some hiking, boating, and fishing, the usual male bonding activities.

Each man was busy setting up his own tent and gear for the weekend.  Mike had been a Boy Scout in his youth, obtaining the rank of Eagle Scout at the age of 16, and always loved the outdoors, particularly surfing and camping.  After years of experience setting up his own tent, he was very quick to get his portion of the camp set up.  Upon completing this task, he filled his canteen with crystal clear drinking water, and last, but certainly not least, he checked to make sure that his compass was in his pocket.  He learned long ago as a young Cub Scout to always be prepared, and that he was.

Having been the first to complete his tent setup, Mike surveyed the camp site and those within it.  His crew mates were almost finished themselves.  He turned his head toward the view from their camp site.  They were near the lake and convenient to all the things that they had planned.  He took in a breath of the fresh air and exhaled with a contented sigh.  Turning back toward his friends, Mike volunteered to begin gathering firewood.  He got no argument from his fellow campers.  Mike smiled that shy smile of his and gladly went forth into the woods.  It was quiet and peaceful there save for the sounds of birds chirping, other wildlife making themselves heard, and the soothing sounds of the water as it sloshed against the lake's shore.

He had only travelled a short distance into the wooded area, when suddenly the toe of his boot struck an enormous tree root.  Unable to maintain his balance, he fell, striking his head on a rather large rock.  As the blood slowly trickled from the scalp laceration he had sustained, Mike felt himself slipping away into total darkness…

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Mike Stoker awakened to find himself in a very strange place, no longer in the lush green forest.  And next to him was a house, a huge firehouse as a matter of fact.  It appeared that the firehouse was resting on top of someone.  Mike saw a pair of feet sticking out from under the red brick building.  On those feet was the brightest pair of fire engine red work boots that he had ever seen!  He didn't know such a thing existed.  While inspecting the boots, Mike heard what sounded like laughter, only this laughter was unlike anything he had ever heard.  It sounded very much like chipmunks trying to laugh.  The sounds were almost musical.  As Mike turned around to look in the direction where the noise originated from, he saw nothing.  Suddenly, a huge crystal bubble came floating down from the sky.  It was beautiful!  As the bubble dissipated, a lovely woman stepped forth.  She was aglow with a brightness like none he had ever imagined.  The lady was dressed all in sparkling white and lightly dusted with glittering powder.  Mike was in awe of her beauty.  She smiled at him and spoke.

"So my dear friend, you are the one that killed the Wicked Chief of the East."  Her smile was breathtaking.

"Oh no, I didn't kill anyone."  Mike didn't know where she heard that rumor.  As he pondered what she had said, he distinctly heard a dog yipping in the distance.

"Oh dear boy, but yes, you did.  You dropped your firehouse on him and killed him dead."  The vision of loveliness continued to smile at him.

Mike then realized that she must be talking about the house next to him, and the chief of whom she referred to must be the body that belonged to those gawdy fire engine red boots.

"I don't know what's going on here.  I didn't kill anybody.  And I certainly don't know who you are."  Mike was becoming frightened, although there was something vaguely familiar about the woman.

"My dear sweet boy, I am Dixie, the Good Nurse of the North.  Now you darling young man, what might your name be and where might you be from?"  She continued to smile that lovely, yet now slightly annoying smile.

"My name is Mike Stoker and I'm from Carson.  I don't know what this place is.  I'm lost."  Saying that, Mike realized his compass was in his pocket.  He retrieved it and began to check his bearings.  The compass needle did not move.  It did not work here in this amazing and very peculiar place.

"Well, Mike Stoker from Carson, my little friends are quite happy that you have come to this land.  You have indeed provided them with an invaluable service.  You have rid them of the tyrant that has ruled over them for years.  With the Wicked Chief of the East gone, they can now be truly happy."  Dixie was beginning to get on Mike's nerves with that darn smiling, and he wished someone would shut up that dog!

Before he knew what was happening, a group of extremely vertically challenged people came shyly out of the bushes.

"Come forward, Rampartkins," Dixie called.  "This is Mike Stoker of Carson!  He means you no harm!"

Mike didn't know what to say about the small people and just kept his mouth shut, which he was good at doing, and his eyes stayed on them as the one that must be the King Rampartkin stepped forward with a giant key.

In a very high pitched little voice, this strange tiny man handed Mike a large key, a key to the city.  "I am Kelly B., mayor and official coroner of Rampartland, and I pronounce that he is not just merely dead, but he is most sincerely dead!"  At this point, all the vertically challenged people started singing, "Ding dong the chief is dead, which old chief?  The wicked old chief!  Ding dong the wicked chief is dead!"

Mike stared in disbelief; he swore the mayor/coroner looked just like Dr. Brackett, and he recognized a few of the little people as Chet, Dwyer…  My God!  Was that Dr. Morton?

"Hey, hey!  Stop the singing!" Mike yelled. 

"Whatever is wrong?"  Dixie smiled at him, glowing.

"I want to go home!  Could you please tell me how to get back to Carson from here?" he asked.

"Oh dear boy, first you must place these fire engine red boots on your feet." 

He looked at the feet on the body lying beneath the firehouse.  "You've got to be kidding.  That guy had small feet.  Mine are three times that size."

Dixie waved her wand and the boots were magically and firmly planted on Mike's feet, replacing his black leather boots.  "Now, you must follow the red brick road to LACoFD.  The Great and Mighty Wizard there will be able to tell you how to get home!"  She continued that annoying smile; it was really getting on his nerves now.

"Uh, don't you have a phone or something I could use instead?" Mike asked.

They all looked at each other perplexed by his request.

"Okay, I guess not," he concluded.

"Follow the red brick road!" the one who looked like Chet said.

"Follow the red brick road!" the one who looked like Dwyer said.

Then they all started singing again.  He started on the road just to make them shut up, and that darn dog was yipping again!

He hadn't been very long on the road, long enough so the singing wasn't as annoying at least, when he saw a scarecrow hanging on a wooden pole next to a fence.  Mike decided to sit a moment and rest.  "LACoFD, hmmm…  Which way would LACoFD be?"

The scarecrow answered and pointed.  "It could be this way, or it could be this way."

Mike jumped up.  "Whoa!  You talk!"

"Of course I talk!  But I'd make more sense if I only had a brain!"

"Well, I'm, going to…"  Mike stopped short.  This scarecrow looked familiar.  "Cap?" he asked.

The scarecrow just stared at him like Mike was denser than he was.

"Never mind…  Anyway, I'm going to LACoFD to see the Great Wizard to try to get home.  If you want to come with me, maybe the Great Wizard can give you a brain," Mike responded.

"Oh what joy!  What enormous elation!"

"Alright, just calm down.  Let me get you down off of there, and we can get moving!" Mike said.  "Geez!  The people you find in L. A. County!"

The scarecrow guy started dancing down the road and singing some kind of goofy song.  Mike tried not to pay too much attention to him.  After all, if you paid too much attention to a singing, dancing scarecrow, one might just have to think twice about the state of one's sanity.  However, Mike did listen to a bit of the scarecrow's song…

"I could solve most any riddle, from any individdle, normal or insane…  I could be so very cheesy, it would be so very easy…  If I only had a brain…"

They walked a short distance more and saw a tin woodsman in the middle of the woods, axe held high.  He had apparently rusted on the scene.  Mike thought twice about this one.  This guy was armed!  Then he heard it.  "Earrrrlll…  Earrrrlll," it called out to him.

"Earl?  What are you talking about?  Who's Earl?" Mike asked.

"I think he's saying oil," the scarecrow said.

"Well, I guess if anyone can understand what an inanimate object is saying, my guess is it'd be you."

The scarecrow pointed toward the oil can.

"Oh, I see."  Mike took the can and oiled the hinges on the mouth of the tin woodsman and was instantly sorry!  The monotone voice alone made him cringe, and as he looked more closely at this person, he could have sworn…  No!  It couldn't be!  But it sure looked like a dead ringer for Craig Brice!

"Thank you very much for your assistance.  I've been stuck here for years, got caught in a rainstorm and rusted rather badly."

"Okay," the fireman acknowledged.  The tin man suddenly burst into tears for no reason.  "Hey, don't cry!  You'll rust yourself up again.  Knock it off!"

"Okay…  fine!" the man made of tin replied with a hint of anger to his voice.  "I just get a little frustrated at times because everyone calls me a walking rule book and says I have no heart."  His response was given once again in his monotone voice.

"Oh, I know!" the scarecrow chimed in.  "We're going to see the Great Wizard of LACoFD.  You could come, too!  And maybe you could get a heart!"

Mike gave the scarecrow a dirty look.  One inanimate object was about all he could handle.  He had no idea how long he'd be walking with these ridiculous red boots on, and the prospect of having this whining bucket of bolts along did not make for joyous anticipation.

"That would indeed be appreciated," the tin woodsman said and stiffly came to Mike's side.

"Don't stand so close, okay?  Just back off or drop the axe!  I have a thing about sharp, dangerous objects in the hands of strange creatures, okay?" Mike stated.

"Fine."  The tin woodsman dropped the axe on the ground and followed with them.

"Oh, we're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of LACoFD…"  They were now both singing.  At least Hank the scarecrow was singing in tune and sounded happy.  Brice the tin man was singing in that annoying monotone.  He heard a dog barking in the distance and wondered where the heck the dog was.  He had seen no dog anywhere since he arrived in this strange place.  Mike sighed as he felt the fierce headache coming on.  To add to his woes, he was now quite hungry with no sign of a McDonald's anywhere in sight!  Finally, the trio came upon what appeared to be an apple orchard and no farm house for him to approach to ask for the fruit.  This was one time that he would just have to forego proper protocol. 

"Hey guys.  Could you stop singing for a while!  I need to get something to eat!  Stop for a minute.  GUYS!  HEY!  STOP!"

The duo finally stopped singing and turned around.  "Apples," Mike said and headed over to the trees.  He plucked a big red, juicy apple from one of the branches and heard, "Ouch!"

"What did you say?"  Mike was shocked; now the darn fruit trees were talking!

"How would you like it if I yanked something off of you?" the tree responded.

Mike stepped back as the tree branches moved to wrap around him.  "Hey, knock it off!  I just wanted an apple!  I'm hungry enough that I'd even settle for Chet's cooking!"

"Hey, watch this!"  The scarecrow started making obscene gestures at the apple trees and yelling at them.  The trees responded by throwing apples at them, hitting the tin woodsman squarely in the head.  He fell backwards as Mike laughed and ran around picking up the apples and hurried away from the angry trees.

They ate a few apples, although how a scarecrow and a tin man could eat apples was beyond his understanding.  Monitoring water pressure was far easier to comprehend.

They continued on down the road.  The singing was held to a minimum for a while.  "Thank God for that," Mike thought to himself.

As they approached a crossroads, the group walked into another interesting situation.  "RRRAAAAARRRRRRR!"  The shrill sound came out of the blue.  A lion jumped out in front of Mike and practically scared the life out of him!

"What's the matter with you?  You about scared the daylights out of me!"  Mike looked into the face scrunched up before him.  He could swear it was Johnny Gage!  "Nah," he thought, "No way!"

"Why are you yelling at me?  Don't you know that isn't very niiiiice!"  The lion began to wail.

"Well, it certainly isn't very nice for a 6-feet-tall talking lion that walks on his hind legs to jump out of the woods and scare the stuffing out of me either!" Mike responded defensively.  The lion continued to cry.

"Oh man, knock it off!  You're supposed to be big and tough, you know, King of the Beasts or something.  Quit your bawling."  Mike was getting sick of these creatures. 

"I don't have any courage!" the lion said with a sniffle.

"We're going to see the Wizard of LACoFD!" the tin woodsman said.  "He's going to give me a heart and maybe even an oil change.  He's going to give my stupid friend here a brain.  How about you come along and get some courage?"

"Oh no!  No way!  I am not bringing along a crying 6-feet-tall lion!" Mike shot back.

"Oh, pleeeeasssse!" the lion begged, sniveling at his feet, then broke into song.  "If I could be King of the foreesssstttt, I'd…"

"Alright!  Alright!  Just knock off the singing, okay?"

"By the way, nice boots," the lion commented.

"Oh, thanks, a little flashy, but they work," Mike replied.

The tin woodsman, the scarecrow, and the lion all joined arms and tried to get Mike to join in, as they all sang, in harmony, except for the monotone tin man, "Oh, we're off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of LACoFD!  If ever wever a Wiz there was, the Wizard of LACoFD is one because, because, because, because, because, because… because of the wonderful things he does…"

"Oh God!  Does this never end?" Mike said as he put his hands to his head, rubbing his aching temples.  This headache from all the darn singing was going to be one for the books.

Mike walked, keeping pace with his dancing, singing friends and Brice, the tin woodsman, as they finally, thankfully, reached the doors of the Smoggy City. 

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Mike suddenly felt intimidated by his surroundings.  They approached the massive door that lead to the interior of the city.  Mike reached for the enormous air horn and blew it a few times.  Finally, he heard a voice but saw no one.  He blew the air horn again.  The voice once more rang out.  This time Mike saw the small man hanging out of a small door at the top of the huge door.

"Please sir, we need to see the Great Wizard.  I need to get home to Carson, and my friends need a brain and some courage, and this tin guy needs a heart.  Can you help us?"  Mike was feeling such desperation at that point.

"I'm sorry, but no one sees the Great Wizard.  Not anyone!"  The little man slammed the small door.

Mike looked at his new friends and Brice, the tin man, in defeat.  The kindly scarecrow said, "Michael, don't look so glum.  Where there's a will there's a way.  We will figure out how to gain an audience with the mighty Wizard."

Mike suddenly felt a newly-gained strength as he turned toward the door again and blew the air horn.  The little man returned and this time Mike was more forceful.  "I'm telling you that you had better open the damn door and let us in or you are going to be in major hot water.  Got that?"

Apparently Mike's tone was stern enough as the door opened and they were allowed to enter.  They went down a hall and into a very large room, a very dark room.  Out of the blue, a flash of light appeared and a thunderous voice bellowed.

"Who are you that dare disturb the Great Wizard of LACoFD?  Do you not realize that no one sees the mighty Wizard?  You must turn around and return from whence you came, and be darn quick about it!"  The voice was very forceful.

Mike felt a shiver run down his spine, but he held his ground.  "Look, I don't know who the hell you really are, but you're the only one that can get me back to Carson.  And my friends and Brice here need a brain, some courage, and a heart.  You'd better come through for us for your own sake.  We'll rip this place apart with axes and pike poles till you agree to help us."

The scarecrow, the tin woodsman, and the lion all stood back as Mike took control of the situation.

"Very well then.  I will agree to help you, but you must prove your worthiness.  You must bring me the handie-talkie of the Wicked Chief of the West.  Once you have done that I will grant your requests.  By the way, no need to use curse words.  The mighty Wizard has spoken!"  The lights went out and the room was dark again.

Mike turned to his friends and Brice and said, "So, how hard could it be?  All we gotta do is tell this battalion chief we need a handie-talkie and I'm sure he'll help us out."

"I don't know about that.  He really scares me."  The lion was trembling.  Actually, he was shaking like a California quake with a 6.5 Richter rating.

"Well, I'm not gonna just stand around and wait for someone else to figure out a way to get me home.  I'm going to that chief's firehouse and get the darn handie-talkie.  Are you with me?"  Mike looked from one face to the other.

The scarecrow was the first to speak.  "I'm with you, Michael.  That's what friends are for."  He tried to be brave.  He did not want Mike know that he was horrified of this wicked chief.  Once upon a time, the scarecrow had been a brave engineer, almost as brave as Mike, and the wicked chief was his captain.  One day, due to reasons he would never divulge to anyone, Hank burned the wicked captain's hat.  He knew that a day of retribution would come.  Since the day of his act of defiance, he had been paranoid that he would never be able to advance in the fire service.  Then when a spell had been cast upon him by the Wicked Chief of the West and he was turned into a scarecrow, his fate had been sealed.  Being made of straw, he could no longer be a fireman.  While he might never have his dreams fulfilled, he was determined to help his new friend get home to Carson, wherever the heck Carson was.

After Brice quoted scripture and verse from the rule book as to why they should not continue on this journey with the fireman, he finally conceded that they must all stick together.  Besides, Johnny decided to go on with his new friends and the tin man did not want to be left alone.  He might need someone to oil him again.  They all left the room and headed out of the building and away from the city.

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"So, he thinks he's going to keep my fire engine red boots," the wicked chief said through gritted teeth as he watched the quartet via the magic side-view mirror on his bright red car.  "He's so wrong.  Quick, you must bring him to me.  I'll fix him."  The wicked chief motioned to his flying basset hounds.  They quickly left and followed his orders.

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Mike and company could now see the wicked chief's evil firehouse up ahead.  It wasn't far.  They had to cross a hemp field and then they would be there.  As they approached the field of hemp, Mike began to feel odd, almost as if he was getting a buzz from something.  He continued to walk for as long as he could before finally coming to a halt.  His head was swimming.  They had been walking for a very long time, but he didn't think he should be feeling quite so tired.  He came to the realization that he must have been drugged.  Unbeknownst to him, someone had set fire to the far west section of the hemp field and the smoke was overpowering.  He had to fight this feeling.  The seduction of sleep continued to call to him.  Before he succumbed to the magical haze that was filling the field of hemp, he looked over at his friends and Brice.  All but the tin woodsman had already fallen asleep, and he was crying, so he would probably rust again.  The heck with him if he did.  Mike felt himself drifting into a peaceful sleep.

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When Mike awoke, he was inside the chief's firehouse.  The flying basset hounds had abducted him.  The chief watched him and laughed a wicked laugh.

"So, Stoker, you thought you'd steal my fire engine red boots did you?  Well, I've got news for you.  They're mine and no one else's.  Just hand them over and you won't be hurt."  He came closer to Mike and reached for his chin to turn his face toward him.  "You remind me of an engineer I once knew.  He paid the price for destroying something that was mine."  He grinned a sardonically wicked grin.  "I turned him into a fireman's worst nightmare, straw!  If you do as I say, just maybe I'll take my fire engine red boots and just keep you for a pet and let you remain human."

"I'll give you the blasted fire engine red boots if you'll just let me go and give me a handie-talkie to take to the mighty Wizard so he'll then send me home."

The Wicked Chief of the West leaned toward his face and said, "I'll get the fire engine red boots with or without your consent."  The tone of his voice sent shivers down Mike's spine.  "Take him away," he said to the head flying basset hounds.

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Hank the scarecrow, Brice the tin woodsman, and Johnny the cowardly lion all watched and tried to figure out a plan on how to spring Mike from the evil firehouse.  Hank the scarecrow finally said, "I've got a plan.  Listen up you twits."  He whispered his plan to his friend and Brice and they set it in motion.

They hid behind some pillars and managed to abduct three of the chief's guards and took their clothes.  Now they would all fit in with the rest of the staff.  All they had to do was find out where Mike was being held and get him out of wherever he was, and then grab the chief's handie-talkie.  They finally broke off from the rest of the guards and set out to find their friend.  It wasn't difficult.  The chief had ordered that Mike be locked up in the storage closet and tied up with rappelling ropes.  Mike was so glad to see his friends and Brice!  They had arrived just in time.  The chief was about to have his friends destroyed and take the fire engine red boots.  Now all they had to do was find a handie-talkie and get the heck out of there!

Mike and his friends and Brice worked quietly to get out of the evil firehouse.  They were almost out when suddenly HE saw them.

"NO!  You won't get away from me!  I'll fix you all!"  He struck a match and threw it at Hank, the kindly scarecrow.  "That's what you get for burning my hat!"

Hank started to go up in flames!  Mike could not let this happen.  Hank had become a very dear friend on this long journey and had rescued him from a fate worse than death when he had led the others to the storage closet and got Mike freed from his bonds.  Mike saw a bucket next to an enormous coffee pot.  Maybe the bucket was full of water.  Even if it wasn't, maybe the coffee would be enough to douse the fire.  Mike ran for the bucket and threw it on Hank.  It worked!  There was enough water to put out the fire and save his friend!  The chief was heading for Mike with a wicked grin.

"I'll fix you, pretty boy, and I'll scratch up your new Ward LaFrance, too!"

Mike couldn't stand the thought of him touching his beloved Big Red!  This chief needed cooled off or given a hot foot, depending on how hot the coffee was.  Mike reached for the giant coffee pot and tossed its contents over the chief who began to scream in agony.

"NO!  Not the coffee! I'm dissolving!  I'm dissolving..."  Soon he had dissolved into the ground leaving nothing behind but a brown stain of his former self.  Mike now had a new found respect for Johnny's extra strong coffee.

The leader of the guards stood in astonishment as he gazed upon what used to be their boss.  He then looked at Mike.  "You killed him.  He's dead."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.  I only wanted a handie-talkie to take back to the mighty Wizard so he would send me back to Carson.  I never meant to hurt anyone."  Mike felt such overwhelming guilt that he had caused the death of anyone, even the Wicked Chief of the West.

The head guard came closer and Mike realized how much he looked like Roy DeSoto.  The guard then turned to the others.  "He's dead."  As if it was a signal, they all suddenly yelled out a loud and boisterous "HOORAY!", then broke into song.

"Oh no, not another darn song," Mike complained out loud.

"Ding, dong the chief is dead, which old chief? The wicked old chief.  Ding, dong the wicked chief is dead.  He's gone where the arsonists go, below, below, below, below, below, below, below, below, below, below..."  Once they had finished their song, the head Roy-looking guard asked, "Is there something we can do to repay you for freeing us?"

"Could we have his handie-talkie?"  Mike waited with bated breath for the answer.  All of this adventure had made him even more homesick for Carson.  He could not get home soon enough.

"Sure, here ya go."  The guard handed the handie-talkie over and showed the three friends and Brice the tin woodsman out of the no-longer-evil firehouse.  They were praised from all directions as they exited the once evil property and started on the journey back to LACoFD and the Mighty Wizard.

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Mike was having a time with the keeper of the door.  "Look you nimrod, the Wizard said to bring back the doggone handie-talkie and he'd help us.  Now here we are and we have it.  Now you had better take us to him."

"Oh alright, alright!  Don't be getting all testy on me!"  The doorkeeper finally allowed them to enter the Wizard's domain.  "Your friend is a little on the moody side isn't he?"

The scarecrow, the tin woodsman, and the lion all shrugged their shoulders and nodded affirmatively.  "And he hates singing, but he's a damn fine engineer!" the scarecrow commented.

"Alright, come on you guys so I can lose these goofy red shoes and get home!"  Mike once again heard a dog barking, and it sounded closer this time.  Maybe he'd finally get to wring this mutt's neck!  It was getting annoying.

The foursome walked toward the front of the palatial Wizard's lair, amidst the booming, thunderous noises and the smoke filling the front of the room.

"Uh... Uh…," Mike stammered, "I got the handie-talkie.  Now can I go home?"

"THE GREAT AND MIGHTY WIZARD WILL NOT TAKE YOUR AUDIENCE NOW!"

"What is THAT supposed to mean!  We got the damned handie-talkie like you demanded and now you won't give us an audience?  That's a load of crap!  What the hell kind of a sick and twisted wizard are you?  We work our butts off, almost get killed, no thanks to you, and even worse?  That damned old chief wanted to keep me as a pet, and now you won't even talk to us!"  Mike continued to rant, as he noticed a basset hound (not related to the flying basset hounds) slowly pulling on a curtain off to the side of the huge front of the firehouse.

"UH...  PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE SHORT HISPANIC MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!  THE GREAT AND MIGHTY WIZARD HAS SPOKEN!"

"Hey!  Wait just one darn minute there, pally!" Mike called, the fire engine red boots skidding to a halt in front of the curtain.  "You're the Great and Mighty Wizard?"

"Uh, sadly, yes amigo..."  Marco stammered as he looked at the floor.

"I should have figured it was you!  You're the only one from A-Shift that I haven't seen on this ridiculous trip!" Mike yelled.

"Uh... yeah... well, uh... okay.  Hang on.  I may be able to help you out."  The Great and Mighty Wizard of LACoFD stepped out from behind the curtain.  "You, Hank the scarecrow, front and center!"

The scarecrow walked forward.  "Here, this is a copy of your captain's exam.  That should prove to everyone you have a brain since they lied to you and you really scored in the top five instead of number 29." 

"Oh, thank you!  Thank you, Marco!"  Hank the scarecrow stepped back proudly holding his true copy of his captain's exam results.

"Okay, now you, tin woodsman!"

The tin woodsman hobbled forward being partially rusted once again from sweating profusely due to the bright lights.  But how does a man made of tin manage to sweat?  Just another of life's mysteries.

"You have shown absolutely no emotion during rescues.  That is not easy to do.  Well, maybe for you.  Anyway, I bestow upon you this Medal of Honor in hopes that it will stir up some emotion in you in the future and you'll know what it's like to have a heart."  Marco pinned the medal at about breast level which made the tin woodsman smile in spite of his unemotional self.  "See, it's working already!"

"And you," the Great One bellowed at the lion, "come forward!"

Johnny the lion was so scared that he passed out cold and hit his head on the concrete floor.

"Oh for God's sake!" Mike said as he lifted the lion onto his trembling paws.  "You didn't hurt yourself did you?"

"Here is a Medal of Bravery for you!  This signifies that you have shown outstanding courage in times of extreme danger and distress!  However, you didn't really need this.  You have had courage all along or you would not have been the first to volunteer for so many of the rescues that you have successfully completed."  He pinned the medal on the lion.

"Aw shucks!" the lion said.  "Looks darn good there, too, don't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Okay, now get me back to Carson would ya?" Mike impatiently stated.

"I have just the thing!"  The Great and Mighty Wizard retrieved a rather large wooden crate.  "Anybody got a pry bar?" he asked as he looked around the room.  Within seconds the basset hound came dragging one over to the Wizard.  Marco then opened the crate and commenced to putting together a life-sized Crown fire engine he had in one of those do-it-yourself kits.  "I've been saving this for just for the right occasion!" he said excitedly.

It took the Great Marco approximately four hours to assemble the engine, which was indeed record time.  Mike knew the time was at hand and began saying his farewells to his new friends and Brice.  Being so excited to have his own fire engine, the Great Marco cranked up the machine before his rider could get in.  Mike looked at him with surprise.  "You didn't think I was going to let you drive my fire engine, did you?  You've got your own back at the station," stated Marco emphatically.

Mike simply shrugged his shoulders and stood at the door of the Crown replica.  He reached for the door handle and pulled, but the door did not open.  He tried again and pulled as hard as he could.  The darn thing was stuck and he couldn't get in!  "HEY!" He pounded on the door.  "Open up, Marco!"

"I can't!  Once the engine is started, the doors automatically lock for safety reasons, and I can't get it to open!" the Great One said.

"Then shut this thing down so it'll open!  Come on, Marco!" the engineer pleaded.

Marco tried to kill the motor, but it wouldn't work.  "GET BACK, GET BACK!"  The Great Marco started down the red brick road with Mike from Carson hanging onto the door handle.  Mike dove off at the last second, rolled over and stood up, watching the Crown replica disappear into the sunset.

"Come back for me!  Hey!  Come back!  Please!"  Mike hung his head and slid to the cold brick floor.  "Oh no, I'm stuck here forever!"  For the first time during this horrible ordeal, Mike started to cry, making the lion, the scarecrow, and the tin woodsman feel very bad for their new friend.

"It'll be alright, Michael.  We'll find another way to get you back to Carson."  Hank the scarecrow tried to comfort him.  "I know that with my new brain I can come up with something.  It might take a while, but I'll figure it out."

"I just wanna go home!" Mike wailed as the basset hound that had been following him around crawled onto his lap and licked his face.

Just then Mike looked up and saw a dazzling light in the sky coming toward him.  Could it be?  Yes, Mike thought it was.  It was Dixie, the good nurse, arriving in her magic crystal bubble!  Once she had landed, she approached Mike.

"Oh, dear Mike Stoker of Carson, what has you so sad?"  She still had that darn annoying smile.

"We did what the Mighty Wizard asked of us and suffered greatly because of it.  Now he's given everyone what they asked for but me!  I'll be stuck here forever.  I'll never see my shiny Big Red again!" he continued to wail.  Mike's tears were abundant enough to put out a four-alarm fire!

"Oh, but dear, sweet, quiet Mike, you have always had the means to return home."

"What do you mean?"  This woman must be nuts after all.

"The power has been right there all along."  Dixie pointed her wand at the fire engine red boots.

"A pair of shoes?  You've gotta be kidding me."  Mike knew for sure now that he needed a session with the department shrink.

"Whenever you are ready to depart, I will tell you what you need to do."  Dixie stood aside and allowed the young engineer to once again bid adieu to his new friends.

Mike was getting excited.  Maybe he was going to get back home after all.  He looked at his special new friends and Brice.  Walking over to them, he first stopped at the lion.

"I'm gonna miss you, Johnny the lion.  See what a courageous guy you've become?  You'll rule L. A. County well, my friend.  You might even manage to get some hot chicks along the way."  He shook the lion's paw and made his way to the tin woodsman.

"And you, what can I say; you got that heart you wanted.  Now, just make sure you put it to good use.  Maybe you could show a little emotion on some of your runs.  It might make the victims you treat feel a little better to see that you're more than a walking rule book."

"I will," the rusty bucket of bolts said in that distinct monotone.

Mike then stopped at the scarecrow.  This would be the most difficult farewell of them all.  "I'll miss all of you, but I think I'll miss you most of all, Hank.  I know you'll use that brain of yours to do a lot of good.  Who knows?  You might even discover a way to reverse the Wicked Chief of the West's curse and become human again.  Then you could take the chief's exam and you would surely pass it with flying colors."  Mike didn't know why, but he felt the need to hug the bale of straw that had gone on this wild and incredible journey with him from almost the very beginning.

"I'll miss you, too, Michael.  And I hope that wherever Carson is that it'll be waiting for you with open arms."  He reached a gloved hand to his face and wiped away a single tear.

As Mike stepped away from his friends, he nodded to Dixie.  "I'm ready to go home."  He stood where she directed him to stand.

She smiled a toothy smile and gave him the instructions he needed to return home.  "Now, you must click your heels together three times and repeat: there's no place like Station 51.  There's no place like Station 51.  There's no place like Station 51."

Mike did as she said and he soon felt himself drifting away to new heights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain shot through Mike's head with every beat of his heart.  From the stiffness in his tired body, he surmised that he had been lying in this position for a rather long time.  He willed his eyes to open, but at present they did not wish to cooperate.  His memories were fuzzy, but he thought that he had been far away in an unfamiliar place for what seemed like an eternity.  Trying once more to force his heavy eyelids to lift and allow him to see his surroundings, Mike finally succeeded.  At first all was blurry save for the bright light of the room.  As he blinked hard a few times, the gleaming white ceiling of a hospital room came into focus.  He was afraid to hope, but could he possibly be at Rampart Hospital?  A feeling of exhilaration coursed through his aching body in spite of the monster headache he had.  After trying unsuccessfully to raise his head, he heard voices entering the room.  He closed his eyes again and hoped this was not another crazy dream.  He felt the head of the bed slowly being raised and the presence of someone next to his him.

Almost all of his crew mates piled into the room, all with smiles of relief on their faces.  A warmth flooded his very soul as he realized that he was home; he was back in Carson.  His emotions suddenly overwhelmed him.

"I'm so glad to see you all!  I've missed you so much!"  Mike was nearly in tears.

"Mike, you've been out of it since yesterday.  You fell in the woods and hit your head.  We were really concerned about you there for a while, pal.  Roy and John checked you out, and we were able to contact County Dispatch from the ranger station and get a chopper to our location.  They got you here as quickly as possible.  We've been worried to death about you."  Hank's voice was choking up.  Mike had been unconscious for far too long.  Since his arrival at Rampart, he had not responded to any type of stimuli.  The x-rays and other tests had shown no skull fracture or any broken bones elsewhere in his body.  Dr. Early had even begun to show concern when Mike had not regained consciousness the following morning.  He ordered another scan to be sure that he had not overlooked something.  The tests once again were negative.

"Let me get a quick look at you, Mike," the kindly doctor said as he shined a pen light into the engineer's eyes.  He checked the man's reflexes and was finally assured that he was indeed going to be fine.  "I guess you just felt the need to take a longer nap than we would have preferred.  We'll keep you here another day or so to keep an eye on you and then you can go home."  The doctor smiled and gave his patient a thumbs up.  He turned his attention to the visitors.  "This guy's got a hard head that can even give Johnny here a run for his money.  But just the same, he needs to rest as much as possible.  You can stay for a bit, but not too long.  Don't tire him out."  With those words, Joe Early headed for the door of the hospital room. 

Mike looked around the room at his friends before resting his gaze on his captain.  "I don't really remember how I got here."

"You took a pretty hard lick on that noggin of yours and have a moderate concussion.  Doc Early says it's not unusual that your short term memory might be affected briefly, but you'll be just fine."  Hank's voice had a very soothing effect on his friend.

"I had the most amazing dream.  You were there," Mike said as he slowly raised his hand and pointed to his captain.  "And so were you, and you, and you.  Even Dr. Morton, Ms. McCall, Dr. Brackett, Charlie Dwyer, and even Brice."  He even felt a chill when he remembered seeing Brice in his dream.  Hank, Chet, Johnny, and Roy all looked at one another with concern for the downed engineer.

"Well, you're alright now, Michael, my friend.  Our paramedics and the docs here took very good care of you.  Although you did ramble a bit while you were unconscious," the captain replied.

"Rambled?  What did I say?"  More vivid memories of his dream were returning.

"You kept saying that someone needed to shut up the darn dog."  Hank smiled at his younger friend.  "You just need to take it easy and get some rest now," he continued as he gave the man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

As Mike looked around the room, he realized just who his friends really were.  They had all been there for him.  However, there was a person missing from the group, Marco.  He was just about to ask about him when he walked into the room.

"Hey, Mike, glad to see you're awake.  You okay?"  Marco was so very happy to know that Mike would be alright.

"You left me," Mike suddenly said sounding very sad.  "You left me alone in that crazy place."

Marco looked puzzled.  "Amigo, I think that knock on the noggin rattled your brain pretty good.  I'm the one that found you in the woods and carried you out so we could get you to a hospital.  You had a pretty nasty cut on your head that was bleeding like crazy."

"It seemed so real."  Mike was contemplating his dream when Chief McConnikee walked into the room and over to the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I just heard about what happened.  How are you doing there, Stoker?" the chief asked.

When Mike realized who it was, the engineer screamed out in total fear.  "AAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

The battalion chief quickly jumped back.  "Stoker, everything'll be okay.  You just need some rest."  He had no idea what was going through the engineer's head at that moment.  He had come to Rampart to check on some of his men who had suffered smoke inhalation from an earlier call and heard that one of Station 51's A-Shift had been flown in by chopper with a head injury.

After getting Mike calmed down, Hank turned to the other men.  "I think we should all leave now and let him rest."  Hank was concerned about his friend's well being.

His shift mates bade their farewells before exiting.  "Take care of yourself and get plenty of rest, Mike.  Hope to see you back to work soon," Marco said with a sincere smile on his face.

"Yeah, I don't think we can stand too much of Gage's cooking if you're out of the rotation for too long," Chet offered.

"What he means, Mike, is that we can't tolerate a lot of extra meals cooked by him," Johnny responded with that crooked smile of his.

"Just take it easy, Mike.  Call if you need anything," Roy waved as he walked out the door. 

"I'll see you later, Michael.  Get some sleep."  Hank gave his friend another reassuring pat on the shoulder and walked toward the door.

"Cap, please stay."

Hank stopped in mid-step and turned around.  His second in command suddenly looked like a helpless child lying there in the hospital bed, the bandage on the right side of his head covering the eight sutures at the edge of his hairline.  There was also a large bruise on his forehead from the blow he received.  Hank returned to the bedside of the man and took a seat in the chair next to him.  "Do you need me to call Dr. Early back in?"

Mike took a couple of deep breaths before responding.  "No, that's okay.  I just need a minute." 

"Okay," Hank replied with a supportive smile.  He had a feeling that the memory of what happened was rushing back to his friend, and he just might need someone to help sort things out.

When Mike was ready to continue, he turned to his captain.  "I can remember a few things.  I was going to gather wood for the campfire.  I caught the toe of my boot on a tree root and fell.  That must've been when I hit my head."

"Yeah, that sounds about right.  You were out cold when Marco found you.  When the rest of us finished our tents and stuff, we just kicked back.  After a while we started to get worried when you didn't return to camp.  We split up and went looking for you.  Marco found you unconscious.  He gave you a quick once over and then gathered you up and got you back to camp as soon as possible.  Roy and Johnny got the first aid kit and did what they could for you while Chet and Marco drove back to the ranger station and called dispatch.  They got a chopper up there really quick and airlifted you out of there.  We were lucky we set up camp where we did.  There was a clearing nearby, so the chopper was able to land practically on top of us."  He watched his friend's face as he filled him in on what happened. 

There was a brief silence before Mike responded.  "I was really lucky to be with you guys."  He closed his eyes for a moment and gathered his thoughts.  "Even in my crazy dream I was lucky."

"Oh?" asked Hank.  "How was that?"

Mike gave a tired smile.  "Because I wasn't alone.  You stuck by me through some weird happenings."

Hank was curious about the dream but would not ask Mike to tell him about it.  If he wanted to confide in him he would.  "Well, that'll never change, my friend."

"Hank, I don't know if it was the knock on the head that brought it on or what it could have been, but that was the strangest dream I can ever remember having in my life."  He actually chuckled.  "It was like a really twisted version of The Wizard of Oz."

This brought a laugh from his captain.  "That does sound strange.  At least it wasn't something scary."

"Oh, but it was, at least at times.  Why do you think I kinda lost it when Chief McConnikee came in?"

"Gee, Mike, I thought I was the only one that he had that effect on," Hank said as he tried to keep his laughter down.

"He was the Wicked Chief of the West, and I had to bring his handie-talkie to the Mighty Wizard before he'd help me get home.  Marco was the Wizard."

Hank covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  "Marco?  Lord have mercy, Mike.  You must've hit your head harder than we thought."

"That wasn't the half of it.  Brice was the tin man, Johnny was the lion, and Roy was a guard at the Wicked Chief's firehouse.  Dr. Brackett, Chet, Dr. Morton, and Dwyer were all the equivalent of Munchkins.  Ms. McCall was the Good Nurse of the North."

Hank tried hard not to laugh, but he wasn't having much luck.  "Then who was the scarecrow?" he asked, not expecting the answer he got.

"You," the engineer softly said.

Hank became more interested in the dream.  "Me?  Well, I guess he was as good a character as anybody else to be."

"He stood by me and supported me through everything.  He even put his life on the line for me.  I couldn't ask for a better friend than that."  Mike proceeded to tell the slightly older man of more of the dream and how he wound up getting back home.

"Wow!" Hank exclaimed.  "That was certainly some wild ride.  I'm just glad you made it back home in one piece."  He could see how exhausted his friend was and was already pressing his luck by still being in the room.  "You've had a busy time of it.  I think you should get some rest.  You take it easy and I'll come back tonight and check on you."

Mike still wasn't ready for the captain to leave.  "I don't want to be alone.  Please stay longer."

Hank smiled.  "You can't get any rest with me here keeping you awake.  I tell you what; I've got a proposition for you.  I'll stay until you're asleep.  After you get some rest, I'll be back and bring you some decent food for your dinner.  How about that?"

Mike could barely keep his eyes open now.  "I can live with that."  His eyes closed for just a few seconds.  "Hank, thanks for everything, and tell the guys, especially Marco, that I'm proud to call all of you friend."

"You betcha.  Now, close your eyes and try to get some sleep."  Hank gave his arm a supportive pat and leaned back in the chair as he watched his friend drift off to sleep.

As sleep began to overtake him, Mike pondered all that had happened and the strange dream.  At least this crazy dream had a happy ending.  As he finally fell asleep, one thing stuck in his mind and that was what it took to get home.

Hank wasn't sure if Mike was fully asleep as he heard him mumble something.  He stood up and leaned over the bed to try and hear what his friend was saying.  Hank smiled when he deciphered the mumbled words.

"Yes, my friend," he said softly as he watched Mike finally fall into a deep and seemingly peaceful sleep.  "There's no place like Station 51."  

THE END

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