Part 3

The pain was excruciating, but Johnny took a deep breath and forced himself to push against the canopy of limbs. Long hours of tedious work, inch by inch clawing handfuls of hardened earth away from his side, had finally resulted in what he hoped would be an avenue of escape. With his left shoulder dislocated, and his eyes filled with ash or bark, Johnny wasn’t sure he could make it out of this bizarre prison. However, the shooting pain in his thighs and legs had been somewhat reassuring, at least there was no paralysis. Still, he couldn’t seem to make his body move from beneath the burned out tree.

“I’d give a million dollars for a drink of water, about now...or a cold glass of Joanne’s lemonade.” Startled at the sound of his own voice, raspy and thin though it was, John rested for a moment as he mentally went over his condition.

Dehydrated, probably going into shock. . . I’m not going to be of much help to you partner, if I don’t make it out this time.

With new resolve, Johnny wiggled carefully, pushing himself sideways towards the tiny opening. But as one of the branches pressed down against his injured shoulder, he was unable to hold back the groan of pain. This time, instead of stopping him, the pain seemed to spur him on. Each movement caused his head to reel; yet he forced his body through the opening until finally he lay outside the confines of the tree limbs.
 

Pushing himself into a sitting position, it was barely a moment before he sank back to the ground. Only a ride at an amusement park could leave a man more shaken than that simple act had. The world spun around Johnny, a strange sense of motion against motion as he struggled to hold himself in place. It only took a minute of that action before Johnny was forced to turn to his side, his stomach expelling what little it held on the parched earth beside him.

Pulling up the hem of his damp and dirty t-shirt, Johnny wiped his face, longing for a sip of water to rinse his mouth with. He took care as he moved the fabric near his eyes, suppressing his overwhelming urge to rub the smoke and grime away. Years of experience told him that any physical contact with his eyes at this point would only grind the dirt in deeper, possibly leaving him with permanent damage. So this time, when he tried to sit up, he closed his eyes against the awful movement. When he did manage to peek out at the world around him, it was with a strange sense of gloom. The whole world seemed to be draped in a dull haze, while pulsating strangely around him. As he forced himself to fight against the darkness which threatened to overtake him, Johnny moved carefully to a kneeling position and finally to his feet.
 

Unable to move his arm without bursts of fiery pain, the paramedic carefully used his right hand to remove his belt. Too short to make a proper sling, he finally managed to position the leather strap over his left shoulder and under his arm, fastening the buckle in the final notch. The result was awkward and uncomfortable, but at least it allowed him the use of his good arm.

He took several experimental steps, anxious to make sure that both legs were working properly. Although each step was painful with the ‘pins and needles’ sensation that indicated the paramedic had been lying in one position for far too long, Johnny was satisfied that he hadn’t suffered any breaks. With his vision unclear, it was hard to examine himself properly. He was sure that he’d suffered numerous cuts and bruises to his extremities, but there was nothing to be done about that now. The most worrisome thing was his level of dehydration. Rubbing a dirty hand across his brow, Johnny tried not to acknowledge the headache that was already growing in strength.

No use adding anything else to the list.
 

Swaying for a moment until he could steady himself, Johnny knew he had no choice but to move on. The late afternoon sun was already slipping away, giving him little time to search for help before darkness fell. Johnny turned first one way, and then the other, but the result was still the same. He had no idea which way he’d come from, or in which direction he should go. Everything looked the same. The outline of trees fuzzy with his diminished eyesight, and the smoke-filled sky leaving him no clue as to which direction the sun was moving in. He knew that he’d been close to a road, but which way was it?

In the end, it was simply a matter of moving forward. With first one uneven step followed by another, he lurched slowly across the burnt ground, struggling to keep himself erect. Fighting to ignore the flashes of pain in his legs and shoulder, Johnny focused on what he had to do. He knew he was losing his race against time. It was almost a whole day since he’d left Roy, and he was no closer to finding help than he had been when he walked away from his partner. And now, the sun was starting to set again. Once darkness fell, there would be no chance for rescue. He’d be forced to spend another night sitting alone in the wilderness, praying for his friend’s safety.

~*~

Two hours after going to bed, Joanne’s prediction of a long night was coming true.  It was twelve-thirty when she got up and decided the most productive thing she could do was pack a suitcase for herself, and one for the kids, in the event she had to leave the house in a hurry. 

Without waking the children, Joanne pulled two suitcases from beneath her bed and turned her bedside lamp on its dimmest setting.  Twenty minutes later, Joanne had one suitcase packed with several changes of clothing for herself, along with the necessary toiletries.  She silently made her way past the slumbering kids and went first to Chris’s room, and then to Jennifer’s.  In another twenty minutes, she had several changes of clothes packed for each child, along with pajamas, swimming suits, Jenny’s swimming cap, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and hairbrushes.   She slid the suitcases under her bed again, so the kids wouldn’t run across them.  Hopefully, Roy would call soon to say he was fine, and they’d have a good laugh over Joanne’s efficiency and sense of doom, and then she’d unpack everything while thanking God that her husband was safe.

Joanne spent the rest of the night on the couch, dozing on and off to the type of movies only Chet Kelly found interesting.  She opened the heavy wooden door so a breeze could come in through the screen door.  Her neighborhood was quiet at this late hour, other than the occasional sound of a passing car, or the bark of a dog from down the block.   But even the tranquility of the night and a string of boring movies, couldn’t lull the worried woman to sleep.

~*~

For Roy, the world had become a hazy place as he faded in and out of consciousness. He never knew for sure if he was ever fully awake. Most of the time he felt he was trapped in some bizarre nightmare of smoke and heat. What he thought should be the sky was a kaleidoscope of blue, orange, yellow and black. It was enough to make him close his eyes again, to fight the waves of dizziness and nausea. Better to just lay where he was, to feel the relative coolness of the grass against his cheek, and try not to think of anything.

Like why no one had come to find him yet... like what might have happened to Johnny... like what would happen to Joanne and the kids if he never made it out of here. He was lucky in that respect, in that the times he was lucid enough to worry over those things were few and far between. Most of the time he drifted between being completely out of it and a groggy, half awake state.

He tried to move once or twice. Driven sometimes by something he couldn't even name. Just the need to keep going, to get on his feet and go. But he never got far. The pain in his head and his ribs would leave him gasping before he even got to his feet. After a few attempts, he quit trying, shutting out the voice in his head that was pushing him on. It was too hard. He was too tired.

And he was thirsty. As the hours wore on, the need for water began to push everything else from his mind. It dragged him into awareness when he would much rather have stayed in the dark oblivion. But he never found what his body so craved. His lips were dry and cracked, and his throat was parched. And so he would retreat again into the darkness, only to repeat the cycle a few hours later, and each time he was met with disappointment.

The last time he was conscious enough to be aware of what he was doing, he watched distractedly as his uninjured hand scrabbled against the dry earth, the digging motion almost involuntary, in a futile search for water. It was the last thing he remembered seeing.

~*~

The sky was an eerie orange color against the black of night; the flaming trees a sharp contrast to the dark brush closer to the ground. Johnny had been awakened by a series of loud pops, making him instantly aware that the fire was moving closer. He’d spent the better part of the evening on his feet, moving slowly in what he’d hoped was a southwesterly direction. Only at sunset had he been fairly certain of his progress, when he’d finally made out the glow of the sun through the smoke and trees. That’s when he’d resigned himself to sitting out the night in one place. With the fire off to the east, he felt somewhat safe, and with the rugged terrain he’d traversed so far, he knew it only made sense to stay put until first light. Now, all that had changed.

More tired than he could ever remember, his senses dulled from injury and dehydration, Johnny struggled to his feet. With slow, shuffling movements, he started off, moving away from the fire, while straining to keep his bearings in the strange landscape.

The smoke was thick, causing his eyes to water from the irritation. But it didn’t help his eyesight. Barely twenty feet down the trail, Johnny stumbled and fell as something raced past him.

“Aahhhh!”

Unable to hold back a scream of pain as his shoulder struck the ground, Johnny rolled to his right side and bit back another cry. Fighting against the desire to pound his good hand on the ground in frustration, he tried to take a deep breath as the pain overtook him, but all that did was start him coughing as he pulled the smoke deep into his lungs. Even then, the fire seemed to dull in comparison; his whole focus now centered on his throbbing shoulder along with every other ache and pain his body had acquired.

It was several minutes before his mind cleared enough to realize he had to get up and move on, yet he made no effort to rise. He was worn out; exhausted. Johnny knew that his body had nothing more to give. No water, little rest...how could he go on?

Don’t think I can make it any farther, partner. I’m sorry...

While he lay there, dazed and panting, he was suddenly aware of another shadowy figure running nearby. Deer. He’d seen different animals during the past day, but had assumed that they were all out of the area by now. Evidently, these two had become lost or simply didn’t escape with the others. Watching as the doe bounded off after her mate, Johnny could almost feel the resolve grow within him. He couldn’t imagine taking one more step, but neither could he imagine sitting here and waiting to die.

Getting himself off the ground was one of the most difficult things Johnny had ever forced himself to do. He was drawing on resources that were long ago exhausted, but he couldn’t give in to the urge to simply lie there and rest. So with nothing but sheer determination behind the effort, Johnny struggled to his feet and continued to move slowly away from the fearsome blaze.

Guess if those deer still have a chance to get outta  here, I do too.

~*~ 

By the time Chris and Jennifer woke at seven on Saturday morning, Joanne had showered, dressed, put her make-up on, and was as ready as she could be to face the day.  In the middle of eating his Cherrios, Chris asked, “Will Dad call today?”

Joanne swallowed the piece of toast she was slowly nibbling as she struggled to find her appetite.  “I don’t know, Chris.  I hope so, but remember, Daddy can’t always get to a phone.”

“I know, but he’s be gone a long time now.”

Joanne gave her son a soft smile. “It seems like it, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.”

“Maybe Daddy’ll come home today,” Jennifer said, “and then we can go to the beach.”

“Maybe,” Joanne agreed. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

After the kids had carried their empty bowls and glasses to the kitchen counter, Joanne sent them to their rooms to get dressed.

“And brush your teeth and comb your hair!” she called after them. “When you pass my inspection, you can watch cartoons until we leave for the station to get Daddy’s pay check.”

Chris stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around. “We’re goin’ to the station?”

“In a couple of hours, yes.”

“All right!”

“But Daddy won’t be there, Chris,” Jennifer pointed out, not understanding her brother’s enthusiasm.

“I know that stup…silly.  But if the engine’s there, Mike’ll let me sit in the driver’s seat an’ blow the air horn.”

“Whoop-dee-do.”

“Whoop-dee-do ta’ you, too.  Just wait. When you wanna blow the air horn I’m gonna tell Mike you don’t even like the engine.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do--”

“Christopher!  Jennifer!  That’s enough.  Go on now. Do as I said, or you’ll spend the morning cleaning your rooms instead of watching cartoons.”

The children knew their mother didn’t issue idle threats. Because of that, they put an end to their bickering and scampered off to get dressed and brush their teeth.  After Joanne had the kitchen cleaned up, she passed the kids in the hall on their way to the television. She heard the T.V. come on, heard a brief argument ensue over the choice of the first cartoon of the day, then heard things calm down as the kids worked the problem out between themselves.  She made her bed and folded the sleeping bags, then sat on the edge of the mattress and used the phone on the nightstand to call Theresa.

With little preamble beyond, “Hi, Theresa, it’s Joanne,” the woman told her friend about Hank Stanley’s visit the evening before, then got to the heart of her call. 

“Grace…Captain Stanley’s wife, offered to take the kids if I need her to, and I know she’d be wonderful with them, but her daughters are almost grown, so I hate to ask her to keep my two for very long.  I’d call my sister, but she’s out of town this weekend, and then on Monday, she’ll have to go to work. I could call--”

“Jo, stop. The kids can come here.”

“But if I do have to go to Ojai, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“But--”

“Jo, it doesn’t matter.  David and the girls will be thrilled to have Chris and Jennifer here.”

“Are you sure it’ll be all right with Doug?”

Doug was Theresa’s husband, and Joanne didn’t know him any better than Theresa knew Roy. She’d met him a few times and thought he seemed nice, but she didn’t consider him to be a personal friend. 

“It’ll be fine with Doug.  Besides, you’d do the same for us at the drop of a hat.”

“I have to call Roy’s mother in a few minutes.  If I’m gone more than two or three days, I know she’ll help you out. She’ll come and get the kids from you, and then keep them after that for as long as I need her to.”

“If it comes to that, then she and I can work things out so the kids can spend some time with her, and then some time here where they’ll have my brood to play with. For now, don’t worry about it.  You’re just borrowing trouble if you do.  If you have to bring the kids here, leave me your mother-in-law’s name and phone number.  From there, I’ll handle everything.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t thank me. Like I said, you’d do the same for me.”

Joanne smiled, glad that her friend knew that was a given.

“I’ll call you when I know more.”

“That’s fine. We’ll be here all day.”

Joanne thanked her friend again, said goodbye, and hung up the phone.  She quietly walked to the end of the hallway.  She peered into the living room to make certain the kids were still watching television. When she saw them lying side by side on their stomachs with their elbows bent and heads propped in their hands, she returned to her bedroom and called Roy’s mother.  She hated having to give Harriet DeSoto the news that her son was missing, but she knew she couldn’t keep it from the woman, especially if the need arose to have her keep Chris and Jennifer for a few days.

Roy’s mother’s strength was similar to Joanne’s. She was worried about her only son, but remained positive, while assuring Joanne that Roy would come back to them healthy and safe.  Harriet listened as Joanne explained the arrangements she’d made for Chris and Jennifer, then wrote down Theresa’s name, phone number, and address. Much like Theresa had done, Harriet told Joanne that she wasn’t to worry about a thing if she did have to leave for Ojai.

“Your friend and I will take care of the children, Joanne.  You just go with Roy’s captain if you have to, and don’t worry about a thing that’s going on here.”

Joanne thanked her mother-in-law, and then promised she’d call Harriet with an update as soon as she had any news.  The women said goodbye and broke their connection.  Joanne took a deep breath, swiped at the tears that suddenly came to her eyes, then grabbed her purse.  Once again, in her most normal tone of voice, she called to her children,

“Shut off the T.V., guys!   We need to get going.”

As Joanne backed the car out of the driveway, she hoped Hank Stanley would have good news for her by the time she arrived at Station 51. 

~*~

It had been after roll-call on Saturday morning, that Hank told his men they needed to have a brief meeting.

“I’d say ‘what did Gage do now,’ ” Chet wise-cracked as they headed for the dayroom, “only Gage isn’t here to blame for anything.”

The other men laughed; though the laughter quickly died when Hank told his crew about the phone call he’d received the previous evening.

“So when are we gonna be sent up there?” Chet asked.

“We’re not.”

“But, Cap, we can help those Ventura clowns look for John and Roy.”

“We could, only we’ve been ordered to stay here.”

“But--”

“Chet, we need enough man power on duty in our own county to take care of anything that might come up.”

“I know, but--”

“Cool it with the buts, Kelly, because that’s the final word from headquarters.”

Charlie Dwyer and Larry Kessler were still covering for Johnny and Roy. Charlie was the one who brought up the subject of Roy’s family.

“What about Joanne?  Does she know?”

“I stopped and talked to her last night.”

“How’s she takin’ it?” Chet asked.

“About as well as can be expected, I guess. She’s worried, but she knows she has to be strong for the kids.”

Mike asked, “Did she tell them?”

“I don’t think so.  Not while I was there, anyway.  She’s gonna come by this morning to get Roy’s check, so everyone be careful about what you say around Chris and Jennifer. Considering how young they are, I doubt Joanne has told them anything yet.”

Hank heard a smattering of, “Sure, Cap,” and “We will, Cap,” and “Don’t worry, Cap. We won’t say anything to ‘em.”

“I’m hopeful that before the day is over, the chief’ll call saying John and Roy are okay.  I saw on the late news last night that three more men were found unharmed, so let’s all think good thoughts today for our missing paramedics.”

“We will, Cap,” Chet assured, followed by the rest of the man giving Hank assurances that their thoughts would be on Johnny and Roy throughout the shift.

It was a subdued group of men who started their daily chores.  At nine-thirty, Chris DeSoto ran in the back door with the comfort of a boy who’d spent his youth in and out of the various stations his father had worked at. 

“Hey there, Chris,” Mike greeted when he turned to see who had entered. He put the sponge down he’d been using to clean the stove, and tousled Chris’s hair.  “Wanna sit in the engine?”

“Can I blow the air horn, too?”

“Sure can.”

“All right!”  Chris gave a sidelong glance at his sister, who had now joined him in the day room. “Jen doesn’t wanna a turn though. She thinks engines are stupid.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“No one’s going to get a turn sitting in the engine if that behavior doesn’t stop right now,” Joanne scolded. “I’d hate to have to ask Mike to put each of you over his knee and give you a spanking.”

Jennifer’s eyes grew round as she looked up at her mother.  Spankings in the DeSoto house were only for the most serious of offenses, and not a form of punishment employed very often.  Therefore, she couldn’t imagine anything worse than being spanked by a man she hardly knew.

Joanne fought to keep from laughing at how well her teasing threat had worked.  She doubted the soft-spoken Mike Stoker even spanked his own children, let alone would spank hers.  Mike played along with Joanne though, and stroked his chin as though he was contemplating having to carry out the punishment.

“I’d sure hate to have to do that for you, Joanne, but I guess if the kids don’t behave, I could help you out while Roy’s gone.”

“We’ll behave,” Chris promised, while Jennifer gave an earnest nod of her head. 

“Well, in that case, then let’s go inspect the engine.  Chet’s supposed to be polishing it.  Do ya’ think you can find any smudges on it, Chris?”

“Probably.”

Mike chuckled. “Probably is right.”  He held a hand out to each of the kids and took them to the engine bay as Hank entered the dayroom with an envelope. He said hello to the station’s young visitors, and laughed when Jennifer said, “I’m gonna see the engine, Captain Stanley.  It’s not stupid, and Mike’s not gonna have to spank me either.”

“Glad to hear that, Jenny,” Hank said, though he had no idea what the little girl was talking about.

After the children were out of hearing range, the captain asked Joanne, “How’re you doing?”

“Hanging in there.  I have to for the kids.”

“Do they know?”

“No,” Joanne replied, as Chet and Marco entered the dayroom.  “I haven’t said anything to them yet, and I don’t intend to unless I get some definite word on Roy one…one way or another.”

“I don’t blame you for that.  They’re too young to have any of this laid on them before it’s necessary. Besides, I’m sure Roy and John will be fine.”

“So you haven’t heard anything yet?”

Joanne already knew the answer to her question, because if Hank had heard anything, it would have been the first thing he would have told her. Therefore, she was expecting his, “No, I haven’t.”

“When I leave here I’m going to the bank, but after that, I’ll be home all day in case you need to get in touch with me.”

Hank nodded.  “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

Joanne took the envelope Hank handed her that contained Roy’s paycheck.  She looked at Marco when he asked quietly, “Is there anything you need me to stop by the house and take care of, Joanne?”

“It’s sweet of you to offer, Marco, but no.  I can’t think of anything.  The kids and I are doing all right.”

“I wanna go up there and look for Roy and John,” Chet told the woman, “but headquarters won’t let us.”

“Thanks, Chet.  It’ll mean a lot to Roy that you wanted to go. And I’m sure it’ll mean a lot to Johnny, too.”

“To Roy, yeah.  To Gage…well, he probably doesn’t wanna see my face, but I’d sure like the pleasure of findin’ him wandering around lost in the woods.  That alone would give the Phantom a year’s worth of good jokes.”

Joanne chuckled. She appreciated the way these men under Hank Stanley’s command were always ready to help one another, and then just as quickly, to poke fun at one another.

“Right now, I wouldn’t complain if Roy and Johnny were found wandering around lost in the woods, Chet.  As a matter of fact, that’s about the best situation I can think of at the moment.”

Chet sobered.  “Yeah, me too.”

The conversation came to a halt when Chris ran into the room.  “Hey, Chet, come ‘ere!  Ya’ missed a spot!”

“I what?”

“Ya’ missed a spot!  Even Mike says so.”

“Why you little tattle tale.” 

Chet took off after Chris, who ran for all he was worth to the engine bay. That action made Joanne chuckle again.  Even though Joanne hadn’t gotten the news from Hank she’d been hoping for, coming to Station 51 had been good for the kids.  She hated to make them leave, but when the tones sounded, she had no choice.  Mike lifted Jennifer from behind the engine’s steering wheel, and Joanne took both of the children by their hands and hurried them to the doorway of the dayroom. She knew they’d want to see the vehicles leave the station, and this was a safe spot for them to stand and watch that happen.

After the engine and squad were gone, Joanne and the kids got in their car.  Joanne stopped at the bank and deposited half of Roy’s check, while taking the other half in cash for the time being in the event she had to leave for Ojai on little notice.  If they ran short of money to pay the bills, she could always get a cash advance off their credit card.  She hated to do that, but they’d gotten the credit card for emergencies, and until Roy was found, Joanne considered the current situation to be just that – an emergency.  

Once Joanne returned home, she fed the kids an early lunch, then sent them outside to play.  She spent the afternoon flipping from T.V. station to T.V. station in an attempt to find an updated news report about the Ojai fire.  Instead of that, she ran across a golf tournament, a Dodgers game, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, an auto race, and one of old Road movies starring Bob Hope and Bing Crosby. 

So much for Saturday afternoon television.

Joanne finally shut the T.V. off in disgust and picked up her book.  She did her best to get lost in the written word for a while, though the entire time she was reading, Joanne’s concern for her husband was never far from her mind.

~*~ 

Bobby Jordan trudged wearily along what could hardly be called a trail, his eyes glued to the back of the yellow turnout coat in front of him. The air was thick with smoke, and every breath was like a knife cutting into his lungs. He was hot, and his tired legs protested the exertion, but somehow he kept going, wondering with each step why in the hell he'd ever become a firefighter. His folks would have been much happier if he'd taken the job at the car dealership Mr. Hopkins had offered him after he graduated high school last spring. It would have been easier, cleaner, and a lot less physically demanding. He wouldn't have had to endure the endless razzing about being the rookie at the station. No matter how many times they called him "Baby" Bobby, his face still turned bright red. And he would have been a heck of a lot cooler sitting in an air-conditioned sales office instead of here, lost in the middle of the wildfire.

But he knew in his heart why he stuck with it. All it took was another glance at the man in front of him. Bobby had known Captain Rich Spencer for as long as he could remember; had been in awe of him actually. He could remember envying Todd and Corey Spencer for having such a man for a father, and still felt guilty for those childhood feelings. Bobby’s dad was a great guy, but for whatever reason, the fireman who lived across the street had more influence in Bobby's choice of careers than his own father had.

So now, as they made their exhausted way around the back of the fire, trying to find a path out after the wind shifted and an unbelievable blow up had scattered their crew, Bobby was more than grateful that, in all the confusion, he at least had ended up following Captain Spencer.

"How ya’ holdin' up, Bob?" Cap asked, his voice muffled by the bandana around his mouth.

"Okay, Cap," Bobby rasped out through his own bandana. That was another thing he liked about Cap. He never called him Baby, or even Bobby. He called him by a man's name. "You know where we are?"

Captain Spencer nodded. "Yeah, I think so. It's hard to tell exactly, but seems to me there should be a fire road not too far from here, if we've come as far as I think we have."

Bobby took his captain's words as truth. He had no doubts the man could find his way out of any situation. What Bobby hadn't voiced though, was his fears for the other guys. The few horrified glances he'd got of the raging fireball racing up the hillside, was enough to haunt him for the rest of his life, but what was gnawing at him even more, was that he had no idea if the rest of their crew were even still alive. He knew Cap was worried too. Even though the man kept up a confident tone, every once in a while, Bobby saw him turn and scan the area, his craggy face covered in soot, sweat and dirt, but still unable to hide his concern for the missing men under his command.

Bobby had only asked Cap about them once. Though he got an even toned, "They'll be okay, Bob," the look on Spence's face closed the rookie's mouth. He wasn't going to ask that question again. He could only hope that Hector, Jim, and Pete had managed to come out of that nightmare alive. Even though they teased Bobby unmercifully, they were good guys at heart, and the rookie knew they were good firefighters. What was more, they were a team. Bobby couldn't see that team being the same without all its members.

With his mind thus occupied, Bobby had barely registered that their path was sloping downward, until Cap stopped abruptly and the rookie nearly ran into the back of him. He barely had time to look up to see what was wrong, when Captain Spencer suddenly broke into a trot. Where he found the energy, Bobby didn't know, but he made himself follow.

It only took a moment before he saw what had caught Cap's attention. In the small clearing at the bottom of the trail, somebody was down. His first frantic thought was that it was one of the guys, but as they grew closer, Bobby recognized the dirty tan of a turnout coat. It was a firefighter, but not one of their own; one of the many men who'd come from other cities and counties to help battle the blaze.

Cap reached the man first and was checking his neck for a pulse when Bobby slid to a crouch beside him.

"He alive?"

Captain Spencer nodded briskly. "For now, anyway. He looks like he's had a pretty bad time of it."

Bobby studied the man on the ground. His hair was dark with sweat and dirt, his face covered in scratches and bruises. There was a bandage on his right eye, and what looked to be another one on the back of the guy's head. His left arm had been tied to his side. Bobby took off his helmet, scratched at his sweaty head and frowned.

"Hey, Cap? I think I know this guy. Isn't he one of those paramedics Pete and Jim were talkin' to?"

The captain shrugged. "Possibly. I wasn't paying much attention to who you guys were jawing with."

As Bobby continued to stare at the injured man, his frown deepened as he tried to remember anything specific about the paramedics Pete had introduced him to the previous morning. At that time, Bobby had been more interested in eating, than in meeting two guys he figured he’d never run across again. 

"There were two of ‘em, but I don’t remember their names.  I think Pete said they’re from L.A.  County.  Somebody tried to fix this guy up.  Wonder what happened to his partner."

The captain glanced up and around, trying to spot anyone in the nearby vicinity. He shook his head. "If there was somebody here, he’s gone now." Spence glanced back down at the injured fireman. "This guy doesn't look good. We're gonna have to take him with us." He flashed Bobby a grin. "You up for some mule work?"

Bobby suppressed the inward groan at the thought of hauling a full-grown man very far in this heat and smoke. Instead, he smiled back at his captain. "Sure thing, Cap," he answered as brightly as his irritated throat allowed. "Isn't that what they pay us for?"

"Good man," Cap chuckled. "Just for that, I'll take the first turn." He leaned over and took the man by his uninjured arm and pulled him over his shoulder in the traditional carry.

The unconscious fireman uttered a soft moan at the movement, but that was all. Bobby didn't know if that was a good sign or not. As Cap shouldered the man's weight, then headed with new determination back up the trail, Bobby followed after. Now though, instead of the Cap's yellow turnout in front of him, he could see the tan one of the injured firefighter, the black lettering faded, but still readable. The guy was from L.A. County. Bobby squinted to see better and managed to make out the last name.

GAGE.

This guy’s last name was Gage, and by the looks of him, Bobby figured it would be a while before they’d find out his first name, or what had happened to the person who had tried to help him. 

~*~

Time no longer held any meaning. Day or night; morning, afternoon or evening, it all blended together into one long endless ordeal. All John Gage knew for certain was that he had to keep moving. But as the hours passed, even the purpose of his journey dimmed, leaving him only with the knowledge that he had to persevere, though it was getting harder and harder to continue.

Counting his steps had worked for a time, and concentrating on the direction of the wind-driven smoke had served as a way to remain focused during his trek. But now he was reduced to forcing his feet to move forward, while denying his mind the liberty of dwelling on his pain. The throbbing in his shoulder was excruciating, and his eyesight had been reduced to a foggy haze. Johnny was fairly certain that somewhere along the way he’d given in to the desire to rub his eyes, although he couldn’t remember for sure. His leg muscles were now protesting the long hike over rugged terrain. Despite the fact that Johnny often hiked on his days off, his legs were tired, the muscles cramping from the lack of water in his system.  Then there was an occasional moist feeling, making him dimly aware that at least some of the cuts on his face were still bleeding.

At first, he’d been concerned about the possibility of infection with all the dirt ground into the cuts and scrapes caused by the tree limbs, but as the day passed and Johnny became more confused, he even forgot about that apprehension. Now it was simply the need to find help that kept him going. And even that need was growing faint as time went on.

The fuel behind Johnny’s lagging energy was only the thought of one man. Roy DeSoto. However, as his body slowly started to shut down, Johnny’s mind began to play tricks on him, leaving him unsure as to why he was worried about Roy. Was he looking for his partner, or was Roy looking for him? And how had he come to be alone in the middle of this burning wasteland?

Head down, shoulders slumped, his left arm cradled by his right, John Gage trudged through the parched landscape. Most of his walking was done beneath a canopy of trees, sometimes dried and brown, other times blackened and smoking from the blaze. But always Johnny kept on moving, only allowing himself to stop for a few minutes at a time. Whatever might have happened, he knew that he couldn’t stop now; he had to keep going.

It was mid-afternoon when Johnny finally stumbled onto a dirt roadway. Most likely a Forest Service road, it wound through the trees, with only a thin slice of sky visible above.  His injured eyes had molded into a squint hours early.  This was the only way Johnny could tolerate the assault of daylight.  He grimaced as he attempted to open his eyes wider. He looked first to his left, and then to his right. Johnny stood frozen in place as he struggled with the realization that he’d finally found a path that could get him to the help he needed. But the territory was unfamiliar, and Johnny was more confused than ever.

Which way? Damn it, which way do I go?

As he contemplated his choice, Johnny suddenly realized there was something sitting in the road. Several hundred yards to the west, a large vehicle was parked, its bulky frame nearly lost in the smoky haze.
 

With a primal cry, Johnny broke into a run. He would’ve been surprised if he could’ve seen how unsteady his gait was, but he lurched forward, completely unaware. The only thing in his mind was the sight of the large fire engine.

Ten feet from the truck, Johnny stopped suddenly, and the euphoria he’d just experienced disappeared. Red was still visible in places, but most of the paint had been blistered and blackened by fire. It was obvious that the blaze had moved swiftly through the area, leaving the same strange appearance he’d noted earlier on the forest floor, where one bush would still boast green leaves while the one beside it was blackened.

Advancing slowly towards the engine, John reached out a tentative hand. When he felt no heat radiating from the vehicle, he touched the metal, as if to convince himself that the truck was real, and not some hallucination. Reassured, he quickly moved back into action, jerking open one door after another as he searched the compartments. Finally, on the fourth try, he found his reward.  Jugs of water sat on a shelf.  Below the shelf was a row of hooks, and from those metal hooks hung four canteens.

Grabbing a canteen, Johnny unscrewed the metal lid, tipped up the canvas covered container, and took in large mouthfuls of the tepid water. It was only a moment before he turned and choked up the warm fluid, his stomach refusing to accept the liquid. After several seconds, he managed to straighten up, his eyes focused on the canteen still clutched in his hand.

Damn it, Gage, you know better than that!

Slowly, he tried again, using the first sip to rinse his mouth out, and then allowing only a slight trickle of water to ease down his throat. Lowering himself to the running board, Johnny leaned back against the engine and closed his eyes. As dehydrated as he was, Johnny knew it was dangerous to drink too much too fast, and he slowly sipped from the canteen as he allowed himself to relax for just a moment. It was the first time in hours that he’d granted himself that luxury, and he gradually began to drift off. A snapping sound brought him instantly awake and to his feet, causing another guttural cry of pain.

Gotta stop doing that!

Reassured that the popping was simply more of the smoldering snags, and not another active blaze, Johnny circled the vehicle, examining the destruction. Most of the tires were melted, and although he opened the cab and checked the radio, it was as dead as he’d expected.

Must’ve fried all the wiring.

Certain that there was no help for him here, Johnny returned to the compartment where he’d found the water, and searched further.
 

The crew might’ve stashed some food somewhere.

Even as he discovered several paper lunch bags secreted behind the water jugs, Johnny was focused on his last thought. The crew. What happened to the men who belonged to this engine? A sudden flash of memory rolled over Johnny, and he staggered back to the front of the damaged engine. Ventura County . . Engine 63. This was Pete’s company!

Stepping away from the truck, Johnny anxiously surveyed the landscape through his stinging eyes. The road wound off in each direction, as empty as before, and even if he could’ve hollered out, his voice wouldn’t carry far. Lost in thought, he absently moved back toward the engine, trying to work out in his mind what his next course of action should be.

Resettling himself on the running board, Johnny sorted through the lunch sacks, struggling to control his sudden craving to stuff it all into his mouth. Careful not to make the same mistake as before, he broke a sandwich in half and slowly nibbled on it, not even bothered by his less than favorite peanut butter and jelly. His mind continued to mull over Pete’s fate while he packed two packages of peanuts, three snack sized boxes of raisins, two apples, and four other sandwiches into one bag. It took some time, but when he finished his meager meal, Johnny sipped a little more of the warm water, then checked the jugs of water he’d found.

There was enough water to fill two of the canteens. Johnny tried hard not to spill any of the precious liquid as he placed one canteen on the running board, balancing it upright against the engine with his left foot, and used his right hand to pour water from a jug into the canteen.  When the canteen was full, Johnny screwed the lid on tight, then repeated his actions with the second canteen.  The paramedic used the remaining water to wash out his eyes.  It wasn’t an easy job to do one-handed. When he was finished, Johnny knew his eyes would need further attention at a hospital, but at least some of the gritty feeling was gone. 

I’d kill for a pair of sunglasses right now, the man thought while squinting. 

Johnny’s search of the engine compartments had also yielded a well-stocked first aid kit in a small backpack that had the Ventura County Fire Department’s logo on it. He was relieved to find a sling bandage included, along with a bottle of aspirin.

It took some doing for Johnny to get the triangular piece of material around his injured arm, but he finally managed to fasten the large safety pins in place, giving his arm more support than the belt had provided.  He uncapped the bottle of Bufferin, swallowed three of the white pills, and washed them down with water from one of the canteens.  The man repacked the first aid kit, secured its latches, and sat down on the running board.  He leaned back against the engine and could have sworn he felt his body give a sigh of relief at the rest Johnny was finally allowing it to take.

An hour passed before Johnny was ready to move on. As he stood on aching legs that said they’d like to immobile for another ten hours or so, he was still left uncertain as to which way he should go. The water, food, elementary medical care, and token rest had helped to clear his mind. He was once again fully aware that he was responsible for finding help for his injured partner.

Stepping to the front of the engine, Johnny finally chose the southwesterly course.  However, he found himself looking around again with indecision. Something didn’t add up. There was something wrong here, a situation that he knew he shouldn’t overlook.

The crew had left the engine, but why? The only sensible answer was that they had been working a hotspot in the area when the fire came through, possibly separating them from the engine. But had they been rescued? And how long ago had this happened? Maybe they’d already walked out to safety. Still, Johnny hesitated. He was a rescue man, first and foremost. Even with his responsibility to Roy, there was no way he could simply walk away from something like this without at least checking things out first.

“Okay, half an hour. No more. If I don’t find any signs in half an hour, I’m coming back to this road.”

Spoken out loud, Johnny’s voice sounded strained, but the feeling was clear. He had a duty to perform, a promise made to Roy, as well as to Joanne and their kids. That pledge would not be broken, yet this was something he had to do. With an internal sigh of frustration, he hung the canteens of water over his right shoulder, and tucked the paper bag of food into the backpack that held the first aid kit. He grabbed the lone flashlight he’d seen in one of the compartments, and put that in the pack as well, then zipped the backpack closed.

It would have been more comfortable to be able to put the straps of the backpack over both of his shoulders, but given his injured left one, Johnny knew that wasn’t possible.  He put one strap over his right shoulder, and was thankful the backpack was small and light weight. 
 

Moving downhill, Johnny walked away from the engine, carefully studying the area as he went. He knew that he had to be able to return to the roadway, so he tried to memorize as many landmarks as possible. It didn’t take long to realize that he was moving into a dry gulch. The entrance was still filled with dried grass and trees, but as he moved further along, the vegetation thinned out. Now he could see where the gulch was rimmed on each side with a rocky ledge above, and through it all, a blackened expanse told the story of a raging fire that had burned through recently.

Following the natural path at the bottom of the gulch, Johnny watched carefully for any signs of life. What he found caused him to stop in his tracks, his head dropping sadly to his chest. The remains before him spoke volumes, and he shuddered at the thought of how these men’s lives had ended. The bodies were burned beyond recognition, and Johnny didn’t disturb them. Instead, he focused on where they might’ve been headed when the fire caught them.

The rocky ridge above him would be difficult to manage with his injured shoulder, but something drove him on. Shoving aside his sense of brotherly loss, Johnny moved around the fallen men and began his slow climb up the hillside.

Alternately cursing and praying, he forced himself up the slope, but thirty minutes passed before he finally stood on the top. Despite the aspirin he’d taken, his head ached from his efforts, and the pain in his shoulder and legs was increasing again. But he’d made it. There was a gradual slope leading down the other side, but it only took a few steps before he recognized the outline of another body at the bottom of the hill. However, this one had not been burned.

Hurrying forward, Johnny ignored his own pain as he stumbled and slid downhill. When he finally reached the fireman, he froze in surprise when he saw the man’s eyes were open. They shared a look of startled amazement before either one of them managed to speak.

“Are you okay?”
 

“Where did you come from?”

Settling down in the dirt beside the injured man, Johnny forgot about his own pain as he did as thorough of an examination of his patient as he could manage one handed.   When he’d determined there was a broken leg but no neck or spinal injuries, he said, “Here, let me help you sit up.”

The man grimaced and moaned when, with Johnny’s help, he was raised to a seated position and leaned back against the rocky hillside. Despite the pain the movement caused him, Hector felt a little better once he was in a semi-seated position.  Johnny took the canteens from around his neck, unscrewed the cap from one of them, and held it to the man’s lips. Taking several swallows, the man looked surprised when the paramedic pulled the container away.

“Just a little bit for now. If you drink too much, it’ll make you sick.”

“’kay.”

Johnny inspected the fireman’s broken leg, but there was little he could do one-handed. There was no way he’d be able to splint it even if he did have the proper supplies. While taking the victim’s pulse, respiration rate, and focusing on his assessment of the man’s injuries, Johnny didn’t realize that he was being studied until he looked up and met the man’s dark eyes.

“Aren’t you one of those paramedics from L.A. County?”

“Yeah. John Gage.”  Johnny inspected the deep gash above the man’s right eyebrow that was caked with dirt and dried blood.  “You’re with Ventura, right? You worked with Pete.”

The man’s expression changed suddenly, and his eyes shifted away.

”Yes, I worked with Pete. My name’s Hector Rodriguez. Did you . . did you find them?”

It was Johnny’s turn to look away, but he answered softly.

“Yeah, part way up the hill.”

“It was Pete and Jim. They were right behind me, but Jim was having trouble. When I turned around…”

The two were silent, each remembering the fallen men. Hector filled with memories of friends he’d known and worked with for years, Johnny with the sense of a new friend lost. It was the paramedic who finally broken the silence.

“Where’re the others?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think Cap...Captain Spencer and Bobby, headed up the other side of the gulch. After I got to the top, the fire was still right behind me, and when I started down this side, I lost my footing. Must’ve hit my head, cause when I woke up, it was dark and the fire had moved past. Been here ever since . . leg’s too busted up to stand on, and when I do move around, I get pretty dizzy.”

“You’ve probably got a concussion, and you’re right about the leg.”  Johnny’s gaze moved around the area. He was relieved to see that there were no smoking stumps, burning embers, or snags on fire. The wind had shifted away from them, meaning this was relatively safe place to treat Hector.  “I don’t think we should try to move you.”

“Don’t look like you could help me much with that arm, anyway.”

“Not enough, let’s put it that way, but some.”

Hector watched as Johnny slid the backpack off his shoulder.   He noticed the logo on it and said, “Found our engine, huh?”
 

“Yeah, and believe me, it was a lifesaver in more ways than you can imagine.”

“So there’s something left of her?”

“She’s beyond repair, but yeah, lucky for you and me, she’s still standing.”  Johnny held the pack out to Hector.  “We’re gonna have to work together on this.  Since you’ve got two good arms, I need you to open that for me and pull out the first aid kit.  I don’t like the looks of that gash you’ve got.  I need to clean it out and bandage it.”

“Think it might be infected?”

“Maybe.  I’ll know more once I get some of the dirt out of it.”

When Hector had done as Johnny asked, the paramedic set to work.  He held out his right hand.

“Open one of those disinfectant wipes and clean my hand with it.  I don’t wanna make that gash any dirtier than it already is.”

Hector opened one of the small square packets and did as Johnny requested.  Once Johnny was satisfied his hand was as germ free as it could get, he had Hector open a second wipe and hand it to him.

The paramedic used the wipe to clean the open wound.  Johnny frowned slightly at the redness surrounding the gash, and the heat he could feel upon touching it.  

“Uncap that tube of Neosporin and squirt some in my hand.”

When Hector had done that, Johnny swathed the ointment over the wound. 

“Okay, now I need one of those gauze pads and some strips of tape.  I’m gonna hold the pad in place, and you’re gonna tape it on for me.”

“Gotcha’.”

Johnny placed the thick pad over the wound.  Using verbal instructions, he guided Hector’s hands until the two strips of white medical tape were in place.  Johnny then used his good hand to secure them.

“Am I gonna need stitches?”

“Looks that way.  But it’s not bleeding any more, so that’s a plus.”

As Johnny sat back on his hunches, Hector offered him a small smile. “Guess we make an A-1 team, huh, amigo?”

Johnny thought it felt good to finally have something to smile about as he gave Hector a grin in return.  “I’d say so.” Johnny pointed at the open first aid kit.  “Open one more of those wipes for me.”

Hector handed Johnny the damp cloth that smelled of antiseptic.  He watched as the paramedic ran it over his dirty face.  It was going to take more than a small disinfectant wipe to get the man’s face clean, but Hector understood that Johnny was trying to clean the numerous cuts that dotted his face as best he could.

While Hector repacked the first aid kit and put it back in the pack, Johnny took a bandana handkerchief out of a back pant pocket.

“Now I need you to do something for me.”

“Just tell me what.”

“Roll that up and tie it around my forehead.  Leave the front of it loose enough that I can pull it down over my eyes if I need to.”

Hector nodded his understanding.  The paramedic’s eyes were red and tearing, leading Hector to conclude the man had gotten something in them – dirt, dust, bark from a tree, or maybe all three and then some.  Johnny could use the bandana to shield his injured eyes from the sunlight if he needed to.

Once the red bandana was tied in place, Johnny said,  “Hector, I’m gonna have to leave you and go on.”

“I know. Just don’t forget to send someone back for me.”

“Don’t worry.  I won’t.”

Johnny reached out with his right hand, and Hector clasped it in his own. The two shared a look of promise before relaxing their grip, and Johnny struggled to his feet. Before walking away, he pulled out the sack still tucked inside the backpack, and divided up the food.

“Don’t eat any of that too fast. Like the water, it’ll make you sick if you do.”

“Hey, man, you can’t leave that here. You’re gonna need it.”

“Nah, it’s all right. I’ve got enough.”  Johnny left one of the canteens with Hector as well.  “You might want to ration that.  I’m not sure how long it’ll be before I run across someone.  I’ll take a look around for the rest of your crew, then go back to the road. Do you know how far it is to the base camp from there?”

“The camp where we had breakfast with you and your partner?”

“Yeah,” Johnny acknowledged in a quiet way that indicated to Hector it was best not to ask exactly what had happened to the blond man Johnny had been with.  Hector hoped the man hadn’t met the same fate that Pete and Jim had, but the look on Johnny’s face told him it was a possibility.

“Must be about ten miles if you follow the road.”

“Okay, then. You sit tight.”

“Be careful.”

“Sure thing.”

Turning away, Johnny began his trek back up the hill, unaware of Hector’s whispered petition behind him.

"Vaya con Dios."
 

~*~ 

Hours had passed since Johnny left Hector at the bottom of the slope. He’d managed to get back up to the top, down the rocky ledge and past the charred remains of Pete and Jim. Making his way across the bottom of the gulch, he then worked his way slowly up the other side. At first, Johnny had started to turn and go directly back towards the engine and the dirt road leading to safety, but he knew that there were two other men missing, and if there was anything he could do to help, he had to try. Johnny wouldn’t allow himself to accept the fact that he was in need of help himself. Putting others first was something that came naturally to him, and coupled with his rescue training, he really didn’t believe there was an option.

So, he forced himself to move on, watching carefully for any sign of the missing men. It was getting harder to see as the sun was starting to set, even with part of the bandana shading his eyes.
 

Johnny tried to hold his course parallel of the roadway, something that was fairly easy as long as the sun had been moving towards the western horizon, but as the shadows deepened, it grew harder.  Even with the flashlight, it would be difficult to travel after dark. Aside from that, the paramedic was tired, he was hungry, and the throbbing in his shoulder increased with each step he took. What little pain relief the aspirin had given him, had long wore off.  After he’d eaten again, it would be time for another dose.  

As much as his body wanted him to rest, Johnny hated the thought of stopping for the night.  He knew he had to though, because if he kept on he’d end up collapsing from exhaustion, which wouldn’t benefit anyone. Roy was no longer the only one depending on the paramedic. Hector was counting on him, too, and somewhere out in this murky burned-out forest and grasslands, there were two other missing men, possibly injured.

When darkness fell and Johnny still hadn’t run across anyone who could help him, he faced the grim reality that he’d be spending yet another night alone in the wilderness. 

~*~ 

Joanne had stayed close to the phone that Saturday, like she’d told Hank she would.  When the news came, however, it wasn’t by telephone.  Joanne had just finished putting the supper dishes in the dishwasher and wiping off the table, when Hank rang the doorbell.  Joanne was thankful the kids were already in the backyard playing once again, as she walked to the door to see who their visitor was.  Like the previous evening, Joanne opened the door and asked Hank to step inside. Unlike the previous evening, Hank was in uniform, and the look on his face told the woman that whatever news he was bringing, wasn’t good. 

“Hank…”

The captain’s eyes scanned the living room and dining area straight ahead of it. 

“Where’re the kids?”

“They’re in the backyard. Have you heard something about Roy?”

“Not about Roy.  He’s still missing.  They’ve found Johnny, though.”

Joanne felt a huge sense of relief.  “Well, if they’ve found Johnny, then he’ll know where Roy is.”

“John’s unconscious, Jo, and not in very good shape from what little I was told.  If he knows where Roy is, he evidently hasn’t been able to tell anyone.”

Joanne tried to keep her hands from trembling.  “So…so what’s next?”

“What’s next is I’m headed up to Ojai. Chief Raymonds thinks someone from the department needs to be there for John…find out exactly what his medical condition is, and I don’t disagree.  I volunteered to go.  I left the station just as soon as my replacement arrived.  I swung by the house, had a quick bite to eat, and got the bag Grace had packed for me.”

“Give me twenty minutes,” Joanne said.  “I just need to get the kids in and grab our stuff. I packed for all of us last night.”

“Grace said we can drop the kids off at the house on our way out of town.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve made arrangements for my friend Theresa to take them. Roy’s mother will share the baby-sitting duties with her if we’re gone more than a couple of days.”

“Okay. Then do ya’ mind if I use your phone to call Grace and let her know we won’t be coming by?”

“No, go ahead,” Joanne said, while pointing toward the phone on the wall between the dining area and kitchen. 

Everything happened in a rush after that.  Joanne got the kids inside.  They both looked startled when they noticed Captain Stanley using their phone, and Joanne knew that Chris immediately sensed something was wrong.  She hurried to put a halt to his concerns, all the while hoping she was doing the right thing by not telling her son the truth.

“Captain Stanley’s taking Mommy to meet Daddy.”

“Why?” Chris asked, his eyes again traveling to Hank, who had turned his back on the children while he spoke quietly to his wife.

“Because it’s time for Daddy to come home.”

“But he rode up there with Uncle Johnny. Why aren’t Dad and Uncle Johnny riding home together?” 

“Uncle Johnny’s been hurt, but we think he’ll be okay.  So see, Daddy needs a ride home. I might be gone for a few days though, because we don’t want to leave Uncle Johnny so far from home by himself.”

Joanne was thankful Chris didn’t think to ask why Roy couldn’t drive the squad home that he and Johnny had picked up at headquarters and taken to Ojai.

“Is Uncle Johnny in a hospital?” Chris asked.

“Yes, honey, he is.”

“And is Dad with him?”

“I…I’m not sure. Probably.”

“Are we going with you, Mommy?”

“No, Jen, I’m sorry, but you can’t.”

Jennifer’s lower lip quivered, but before the tears could start, Joanne hurried to explain, “You and Chris are going to Theresa’s house for a sleep over.  Won’t that be fun?”

As Joanne had hoped, the prospect of spending time with David, Heidi, and Michelle seemed to shift both children’s concerns from their mother’s upcoming trip. 

“Yay!” Jennifer shouted.

“Double yay!” Chris echoed.

“And if I’m gone more than a couple of days, then Grandma DeSoto will pick you up from Theresa’s and take you to her house.”

That brought another round of excited cheers from the kids. Joanne capitalized on that excitement by hurrying them to the bathroom where she washed their faces and hands. After the children were clean, Joanne instructed them to go around the house, shut the windows, and turn off the lights. 

While Chris and Jennifer were busy doing those things, Joanne used the phone in her bedroom to call Theresa and let her know the kids would be dropped off shortly, then called her mother-in-law, gave her a brief update, and promised to call her again from Ojai.  After hanging up the phone, Joanne grabbed the two suitcases from beneath her bed, picked her purse up from her nightstand, and did a hurried check to make certain the kids had locked the windows and patio door.

Hank carried the suitcases to the car, with Chris and Jennifer trailing along behind him.    Joanne grabbed the piece of paper that was tacked to the kitchen bulletin board on which she’d written down Harriet’s name, phone number, and address, and then had included her sister Eileen’s name, phone number, and address.  She folded the paper, put it in her purse, and locked the front door.  Ten minutes later, Hank swung his car into Theresa’s driveway.

It took another ten minutes for final instructions and goodbyes to be said. Fortunately, the chaos of children greeting children, and the family dog barking and swerving in and out of legs, and Doug introducing himself to Hank Stanley, kept Chris and Jennifer from focusing on their mother’s departure – or the reason behind it.  

Joanne handed Theresa a key to her house as the women moved several feet away from men, kids, and golden retriever.

“If you need to get something for the kids, feel free to let yourself into the house. Chris knows where everything is.  I’ll call you from Ojai just as soon as I can, and give you a number where you can reach me.”

“That’s fine,” Theresa assured.

“I’ve included my sister’s name and phone number on this piece of paper. She won’t be home until tomorrow night.  I’d appreciate it if you could give her a call and let her know what’s going on.”

“Sure,” Theresa agreed, as she took the paper from Joanne. “I’ll do that. Now don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take good care of the kids.”

Joanne hugged her friend. “I know. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Now go on, get going, or the kids will know something’s up.”

“I didn’t tell them anything, other than Captain Stanley’s taking me to meet their dad.”

“Then that’s all Doug and I will tell them.”

“Oh, and they might ask you about their Uncle Johnny.  He’s Roy’s partner.”

Theresa nodded. “I’ve heard Chris mention him a time or two.”

“Johnny’s been injured.  We know he’s in the hospital, and that he’d not in very good condition, but that’s all we know. If the kids bring him up, please just assure them that the doctors will do all they can to make him better.”

“All right.” Theresa glanced toward Chris and Jennifer. Seeing their attention was not on their mother, she asked, “And Roy?”

“We only know that he’s still missing.  I’m hoping that if Johnny…when Johnny regains consciousness, he’ll be able to tell us something that will help the search teams find Roy.  Johnny and Roy wouldn’t have split up unless circumstances forced them to. They’d have stayed together. I know they would have.”

Theresa said the only thing she could at that point. “I’m sure things will be fine, Jo.  Now say goodbye to your kids.  It looks like Captain Stanley is ready to leave.”

Joanne saw Hank climbing back into his car, and Doug heading to the house with Chris and Jennifer’s suitcase in his hand.  She called for her children, gave them each a hug and a kiss, and told them to behave themselves.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Jennifer asked.

“I promise.”

“And then Daddy will come back home with you when Uncle Johnny feels better?”

Joanne hated to lie to her children, but since at this point she didn’t know what the truth would turn out to be, she smiled at her daughter and said, “Yes. When Uncle Johnny feels better, Daddy will come home with Mommy.”

Chris was anxious to run to the backyard and play with David, making his goodbye with Joanne brief.  Joanne was grateful for that. Chris was old enough and smart enough to figure out something was wrong if he picked up on any type of upset amongst the adults.    

Theresa made all the kids stand in the front yard as Hank backed his car out of the driveway.  Chris and Jennifer waved to their mother and called goodbye, then turned to follow Theresa’s children to the swing set, playhouse, and sandbox that were behind the house.

Joanne was thankful to have such a good friend.  With everything else that was now on her mind, she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about the children; they’d be well taken care of.  That was a relief, because as much as Joanne hated to acknowledge it, women’s intuition told her that she’d probably be doing a lot of worrying over the next few days. 

~*~

As if nature had decided to give the exhausted fire crews a break, the wind had fallen off, not only making it much easier to fight the fire, but to actually put a search and rescue plan into effect. There were still several men unaccounted for besides the two Los Angeles paramedics, but they were the main focus of Engine 27's hunt.

As soon as Engine 27 had come into radio range again on Thursday evening, they'd put in the call to command, informing them of the missing paramedics. Engine 27 had immediately been pulled off fire duty and assigned to search and rescue since they were in the immediate area. They'd covered as much territory as they were able to before it grew dark and they’d been forced to bed down for the night in a grassy clearing, though with the fire so close none of them got much sleep. Their second day had been just as fruitless, and they'd had to finally report to the nearest base camp for much needed food and rest.

The base commander had been ready to send them down the hill to the command center, and Captain Boyd couldn't blame the man. He was sure his crew looked as bedraggled as they felt. But they were all determined to see this one through. Gage and DeSoto had been part of their team, however short a time. It didn't matter that none of the men of 27’s could even tell you what either of the paramedics looked like. Boyd himself had only a vague recollection of a blond and a brunette in the tan turnout coats of Los Angeles County. But that was beside the point. They had been under his command, and were consequently part of his crew. He wasn't about to let them just disappear into the fire and not find out what had happened to them.

Faced with a serious lack of manpower, the base commander had given in, and Engine 27 had started up again at first light on Saturday morning, but the day had been another long and unproductive one. Now, sunset was fast approaching, and Captain Boyd had to decide if they should bed down out in the open again tonight, head for a base camp, or go into Ojai, where they could get a decent meal, a shower, and a cot to sleep on at the high school.

It wasn’t a hard decision. There were still missing men, and he didn’t honestly think he would enjoy those small comforts without knowing what had happened. His crew apparently agreed with him, for he heard no complaints when they made camp for the second night.

~*~

Never had a trip lasted so long. The hour and a half seemed more like a lifetime, and the only thing Joanne had been thankful for during the anxious ride to Ojai, was that it was dark for most of the trip, thus she didn't have to worry about Hank seeing the apprehension on her face. Without the kids here to be strong for, it was difficult to keep all her demons at bay; all the years of being a firefighter's wife, all the fears she kept suppressed, were now fighting to come to the surface. But Joanne battled them back. She was determined not to lose control. At least not while she still knew so little of the situation.

Hank swore he'd told her all he'd been told. Roy and Johnny had disappeared at some point early on Thursday evening, and now Johnny was in the hospital. All they knew of his injuries was that he was unconscious. There had been no sign of Roy.

Joanne's fingers clenched and unclenched the side of her seat, not even aware she was doing it.

Why weren't you with Johnny, Roy? You guys promised me you’d keep each other safe.

She gazed out the window. They were close enough now to see the orange and yellow glow on the horizon, and she could smell the smoke in the air. She knew if it were daylight, the sky would be obscured with a dark haze. Her hand came up and her fingers brushed the glass.

Are you out there, Roy?

"Joanne?"

Hank's deep voice was quiet, but it cut into her thoughts and brought her back to her surroundings. She turned to face her husband's captain.

"They'll find him, Joanne. He's tough, he'll get through this."

The words themselves were meaningless, mere platitudes. Hank was trying his best to keep her spirits up, even though there was precious little he could tell her that she didn't already know. But somehow Joanne clung to his words just the same. She even managed to smile, though she wasn't sure Hank could see it in the dark.

"I know he will," she answered. "He promised."

"Damn right," Hank murmured, half to himself, then spoke up again. "I figured we'd stop at the command base... see if there's any news on Roy. The hospital probably won't let us in to see John until the morning anyway, but maybe we can get some more info on his condition as well."

Joanne nodded. "Sounds good, Hank. Thanks."

Silence fell over them again. What else was there to say in any case? Her eyes moved once more to the glowing hills.

~*~ 

Hank took Joanne by the arm as he led her into the crowded gymnasium. Even though it was nearly eleven o'clock, the air wasn't much cooler and the gym was stuffy. Cots had been set up in the far corners, and most of them were occupied by men who were too bone weary to care about the temperature, or the muted voices of command as they carried on with their task of battling the fire.
 

They'd been directed to see a Chief Smitz. Hank headed toward a row of tables that had been set up under one of the basketball rims. There were a couple of bulletin boards on wheels, bearing maps covered in colored pins. Several men in white uniform shirts were busy there, and Hank figured that's where they would find the chief.

As they approached, all the men glanced up, but Hank took note of the gold Chief's bugles and the wilted uniform on a stocky, gray headed man, and held out his hand.

"Chief Smitz?"

The chief nodded. Hank saw the weariness in the man's weathered face, and wondered briefly when the last time was this guy had been home for a decent meal and some sleep.

"Hank Stanley, L.A. County."

The chief shook Hank's hand. "How can I help you, Captain?"

Hank felt a surge of indignation that the chief would even have to ask, but he squelched it. This man had a lot on his plate right now. He gestured to Joanne, who stood quietly beside him.

"This is Mrs. DeSoto. She's here to find out if there's been any progress on finding her husband. I have a personal interest in this too. DeSoto and Gage are my men."

Hank saw the man's demeanor change from calm professionalism to one of regret. His shoulders sagged visibly, then he waved them over to some folding chairs.

"I'm sorry," he began after they sat down. He regarded Joanne with sympathy. "I know it's hard to wait and not know. But we're very optimistic that he'll turn up."

Joanne lifted her eyes, her expression hopeful. "Really?"

"Why's that?" Hank added, not wanting Joanne to cling to straws.

The chief leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. "Well, for one thing...we've already had several of our own men report in after being lost. The wind whipped the fire up something fierce the other day. Scattered the lines. Lots of guys had to hike quite a ways to get to safety.” 

He leaned forward, his face intense. "And for another... when we found Gage he'd been bandaged. Somebody had taken care of him, and he didn't seem to be in any condition to have done it himself." He nodded toward Joanne. "We figure your husband treated his partner, then hiked out for help. Now, we've got teams all over these hills. Somebody's bound to run into him before long."

"What about John...Gage?" Hank amended, sparing the chief any embarrassment at not knowing the paramedics’ first names. "Any news on him?"

Chief Smitz shook his head ruefully. "Nothing good, I'm afraid. The guys that found him had to mule him out for several miles. Probably didn't help his injuries, but their only other choice was to leave him there. Last we heard he'd been taken into surgery. He's at Ojai Valley Community, but I don't think you'll get in tonight."

"I'd still like to call and talk to them."

The chief nodded as if he hadn't expected any less. "Phones are in the foyer. I can give you the number."

"Smitty?"

Hank saw the chief turn as one of his assistants motioned with a clipboard. The older man gave a sigh and turned back apologetically.

"I gotta go. You're welcome to stay here tonight. Or the Red Cross has a shelter set up at the Junior High. You might be more comfortable there, Mrs. DeSoto. It’s air-conditioned, for one thing, and I’d venture to guess you’ll see a few more feminine faces than you’re gonna spot around this place." He stood up and reached out to shake their hands again. "Just let me know where you end up so I can get a hold of you if I hear anything."

"Thank you, Chief," Joanne murmured, giving the man a weak smile.

"Thanks, Chief," Hank echoed. "We appreciate all you're doing."

Chief Smitz nodded and started to turn, then stopped and gave them both a long look.

"They're both good men," he stated fervently. "Made a difference up here. I wasn't too sold on the whole paramedic thing... I was wrong." With that, he headed back to the tables.

Hank watched him for a moment. From what the man said, sending John and Roy up here had accomplished what headquarters had wanted - helping Ventura's fledgling paramedic program gain support. He only hoped those gains hadn't come at too high a price. He turned to Joanne. He could see the anxiety on her face, even though she was trying to hide it.

"You heard the man," he said brightly, trying to sound upbeat. "There's not much we can do tonight. Why don't you let me take you to the shelter and you can get some sleep." The look he got reminded him of just how strong a woman Joanne DeSoto really was.

"You think I'm going to be able to sleep?" She actually chuckled. "No, I'd rather stay here... or maybe go to the hospital. I'd like to be there to see Johnny as soon as we can."

"All right, then let's go find those phones."

They stopped at the tables and got the number for the hospital from one of the chief’s assistants, then left the gym. The phones weren't hard to find, and this late, neither of them was being used. As Hank dropped in a dime and dialed the number, Joanne wandered over to gaze at the large glass display cases, where the school showed off its trophies and awards.

”Ojai Valley Community Hospital, how may I direct your call?”

"Uh, yeah, I'm trying to find out some information on a patient... a firefighter who was brought in. John Gage."

”Just a moment, sir.”

The pause seemed interminable, but finally the receptionist came back on the line.

”Sir, are you a member of the family?”

"No... well, uh... not really, but..."

”I'm sorry, sir. We can't give out information on a patient except to family members.”

”But he doesn't have any family that lives locally. Look, I'm Captain Hank Stanley with the Los Angeles County Fire Department. John Gage is one of my men. I'm just trying to find out how he is."

”I'm sorry, sir, but...”

"Look, isn't there somebody there I can talk to? I know John was in surgery earlier. I just want to know if he's all right."

”Just one moment, sir.  Let me see if I can reach someone for you.”

Hank blew out his breath in frustration and hoped to hell this woman was going to talk to her supervisor. It had never occurred to him before just how much leeway they were granted at Rampart. He'd never had any problems finding out about one of his men when they were injured.

"Too bad Dixie's not here," Joanne observed, and Hank glanced up to see her watching him. He nodded and rolled his eye to indicate his exasperation.

”Captain Stanley?”

It was a different voice on the line now and Hank hoped all the red tape had been cut.

"Yes."

”I'm sorry for the run around. We do have certain rules to observe.”

"I understand that. I just want to know..."

”Mr. Gage is out of surgery. He's stable for now. That's all I can tell you. Why don't you come by in the morning. Doctor Jepson will be here then, and will be able to give you more details.

Hank held back a sigh. At least he'd gotten something. "All right. What time will the doctor be there?"

”Come by around nine and you should be able to talk to him. I'll make a note on Mr. Gage’s chart that you'll be coming.”

"All right. Thank you for your help." He hung up the phone, then turned to Joanne and shrugged. "John's stable," he informed her. "He's out of surgery, but they won't tell me anything else. We have to wait and talk to the doctor tomorrow."

Joanne's shoulder heaved in the sigh Hank had worked so hard to hold in. He watched as she turned to gaze at the trophies once more, then moved over and sank down onto a long wooden bench that ran the length of one wall. She leaned her face into her hands, but as far as Hank could tell, she wasn't crying. Wishing his wife were here at this moment, Hank walked over and sat down beside her, putting his arm awkwardly around her shoulders. He could feel her trembling.

"It's gonna be okay, Joanne," he soothed, all the uneasiness gone. "They're both gonna be okay."

Joanne wished she could believe Hank, but with Johnny injured seriously enough to have required surgery, and Roy still missing, blind faith was hard to come by.
 

~*~ 

On Sunday, the crew of Engine 27 was up again at dawn. This would be their last day of searching. They needed ‘real’ food, as opposed to the snack boxes of raisins, packages of beef jerky, and bags of dried fruit they were carrying in the pockets of their turnouts, and they needed a decent night’s rest. And of even more practical concern, the engine needed refueling and the tanks refilling. Though they hadn’t been actively fighting the fire, they had come across hot spots here and there and had been forced to expend time and energy to deal with that threat. There would be no use finding either paramedic, only to have the way out blocked by renewed flames.

Captain Boyd sat leaning forward in the passenger seat of the engine.  Even with as hot as it was, he would have killed for a cup of coffee this morning.  His eyes scanned the sides of the road as Scotty maneuvered the rig slowly down the bumpy path. It seemed like this was the only road in the world to 27's weary crew. They'd been up and down it so many times in the last couple of days. Until now they hadn't been able to get this far back in their search, but with the fire to the north of them now, they were finally able to approach the area they'd last seen the rescue squad.

The flames had been capricious as they swept through here. One moment, the engine crew would pass burned out stands of trees, and then the next moment they would find themselves surrounded by untouched greenery. The captain only hoped Gage and DeSoto had managed to be in one of those spots. If not, well, he didn't want to dwell on what might have happened to them in that case.

They were topping a slight crest, the area on both sides of the road blackened and still smoldering in spots, when Boyd heard Scotty's hissing intake of breath.

"What?" He shifted his attention from where he'd been studying the scorched hillsides. But as his eyes automatically turned to the front to see what was there, he needed no explanation.

"God damn!" he breathed, then heard Wilkins behind him echo his sentiments, while Morales crossed himself silently. Boyd wasn't a Catholic, but he almost made the motions himself.

Sitting in the middle of the fire road was the burned out wreck of a fire department rescue squad. It was mostly blackened, but here and there you could still see streaks of red. Scotty brought the engine to within a few feet of the truck, then stopped. No one moved for a moment, then Boyd opened his door and slowly climbed down from the rig.

"Damn it all to hell," he muttered to himself. He could envision only too well what had happened. The wind, almost as if it had a mind of its own and was playing with them, had shifted this way, most likely catching the paramedics off guard. If they hadn't had any warning... if they hadn't been able to get out of the squad...

Shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind, Captain Boyd approached the vehicle. The heat had shattered all the glass, leaving the cab open to the flames. Without touching the charred metal, he peered in through the driver's side.

Which one of them was driving? Damn, I never even gave them that much notice.

The upholstery was gone, and anything plastic was melted into unrecognizable shapes. He didn't see any sign of human remains. That, and the only thing he did see, gave him some measure of hope. Still sitting on the springs that were all that was left of the seat, the captain could see two helmets, apparently where the men had left them. They were pretty much intact, though the straps had been burned away and the thinner metal plates on the front bearing the number 51 were warped a bit at the edges.

This would make sense if they bailed out in a hurry. They wouldn't waste time putting their helmets on.

"Looks like they got out," Wilkins observed quietly.

Boyd turned to see his men standing on the passenger side. He hadn't even heard them get out of the engine. He nodded once.

"Seems that way." He glanced around the ravaged area. "But where would they have gone?"

"Fire probably came through fast," Scotty commented, his face reflecting his doubt that the men could have survived.

"Yeah," Morales agreed emphatically. "This fire is one big mother."

The captain took one more look around, then motioned for his men to start searching. They each knew that if they did find the paramedics in this area, they'd be dead. The sound of the air horn startled him for a moment, then he nodded to himself in approval of Scotty's actions. That sound would echo for quite a ways. If Gage or DeSoto were anywhere nearby, they would certainly know which direction to head.

He watched his men move off in different directions, then headed up the slight hillside. They wouldn't have to worry about looking under any brush. Everything had been burned away. So unless Gage and DeSoto had found a rock to crawl under, chances were they'd find their bodies out in the open.

"Cap... hey, Cap... down here!"

That was Morales, and from the sound of his voice, he'd found something. Captain Boyd retraced his path and broke until he neared the edge of a shallow ravine. Somehow it had escaped the worst of the fire, though there were parts that had been burned. Morales and Wilkins were down there hovering over something. Just as Boyd felt his shoulders sag in recognition, he heard Scotty come up beside him.

"Is it..."

"Yeah, there's a body down there. Let's go see who it is."

The path down the slope was rocky, and they had to be careful where they stepped. When they finally reached the bottom, the captain could see the grim expressions on the faces of his men. He glanced down and saw first the turn out coat - scorched, but sill intact - then the body within the coat.

It wasn't completely burned. The legs were pretty bad, but surprisingly the face bore only the faintest traces of burns. It was more bruised and scraped than anything else. The captain walked over and crouched down beside the dead fireman. As his eyes traveled over the poor soul, he noticed the bandage on the man's head and the IV tubing still in his arm.

"Somebody tried to help him," he stated. He looked up and scanned the surrounding hillsides.

"You think the other one went for help?" Wilkins asked hopefully.

"Appears that way."

"Then maybe he's still alive," Scotty said, his eyes also surveying the area around them.

Captain Boyd nodded, acknowledging the possibility. But right now their concern was with this fallen comrade. "Wilkins... go on up to the squad. See if there's a body bag in one of the compartments. That stuff may not have been burned."

"Right, Cap." Rob took off back up the hill.

They stood silently for the few minutes it took Wilkins to come back. They each knew the chance for death lurked over their shoulders, and when one of their own was taken, it was always a moment to acknowledge that fact. And when they lifted the body as carefully as they could into the black bag, each man offered a silent prayer of regret and respect. What bothered Captain Boyd the most was that, as they lifted the body into the bag and he saw the name on the back of the coat, it was only then that he knew this was DeSoto. He shook his head and cursed silently.

Damn it, these men were under my command. I should have at least known which was which.

They got the body up the hill and laid it reverently on the hose bed of the engine. After that, the first thing Boyd did was to call in. Command would need to know what happened, and he needed to know if they wanted him to keep looking for Gage, or bring DeSoto’s body in. His climbed into his seat and picked up the radio.

"Base Command, this is Kern County 27, how do you read?"

There was a burst of static, then a calm voice came through clearly.

"Kern County 27, this is Base Command. Go ahead."

"Yeah, uh... Command... we have a Code F, here. We've found one of the missing men... L.A. County Paramedic DeSoto. Still no sign of Gage."

"27, Gage has been found. You can call off the search."

"Uh... Command... what's Gage's status?"

"Injured, but alive, 27. You can come on in."

"10-4, Command," the captain signed off amid a soft chorus of "yes's" and "all rights."

He felt a mixture of emotions. Relief for Gage's safety battled with remorse for the loss of DeSoto. And in the middle of both of those feelings was just a big empty tiredness. He sighed and rubbed at his bleary eyes.

"Okay, Scotty, let's take him home." 

~*~

"Smitty... Smitty?"

The chief heard the soft, but insistent voice breaking into the cloying darkness of sleep and tried to ignore it. He didn't know exactly what time it had been when he'd finally given in and fallen onto a cot, dead to the world before his head had even hit the pillow. But he did know he hadn't been asleep nearly long enough. He gave an audible groan.

"That fire better be right in this room, Robbie," he growled without opening his eyes.

"Sorry, Chief," Tellar apologized, "but I thought you'd want to handle this."

Two things registered in Smitty's mind: Tellar's voice was wrong, and Rob had called him Chief. It was enough to cause the fire chief to open his eyes and sit up on the cot, ignoring his body's protest at having to sleep on the damn thing in the first place.

"What's up?” he asked as he ran a hand over his stubbled chin.

"We just heard from Kern County 27. They found DeSoto."

Again, Tellar's voice told him there was something terribly wrong and Smitty glanced up. Robin Tellar was a fifteen-year veteran. It took a lot to shake the man. But when the chief saw his assistant's face, he knew at once that the news wasn't good.

"Aw, damn..." Smitty's shoulders sagged with regret and resignation. "Damn it all to hell." He stood up, and had to grab at Tellar's shoulder to steady himself. A couple of hours of sleep in the last three days didn't quite cut it, and he was feeling every one of his fifty eight years.

"You okay, Smitty?"

The chief nodded his gray head. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine." He glanced around the gym. He could tell by the light filtering in the windows that the sun hadn't been up long, but the cots that had been filled with exhausted men last night were now empty. "Is DeSoto's wife still around?"

Tellar nodded. "I'm pretty sure. She and Captain Stanley were getting some breakfast, then they were going to head over to the hospital to see about Gage."

Smitty was quiet a moment, then faced his assistant grimly. "Where... uh, where did 27 take DeSoto?"

"We told them to take him to Community as well... um... to the morgue to wait for a positive I.D. But they probably aren't there yet."

Smitty squeezed his assistant's shoulder. "Then let’s at least let them eat in peace. I'll go tell them in a few minutes." He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his thick, gray hair. "Any news on the rest of our missing men?" he asked hopefully, though he knew if there had been, Tellar would have told him.

"Sorry, Smitty. Nothing yet. The chopper pilots are all keeping an eye out, but it's hard to do search and rescue and water drops. If we just had more manpower..."

"I know, Rob, I know." It was a familiar refrain. The battle of budgets that nobody won but politicians. "I'm gonna go grab some coffee, then I'll find Mrs. DeSoto."
 

~*~

Hank swallowed the last of his coffee and managed not to grimace. It wasn't much worse than some of the swill Kelly made, and they all managed to drink more than they should of that. At least with this brew he had some food in his stomach to cushion the impact.

He glanced across the beige cafeteria table to see Joanne still pushing scrambled eggs around on her plate. He knew she hadn't eaten much, if anything at all, but he couldn't blame her. The only reason he'd managed to down his breakfast was force of habit. His years in the fire service had conditioned him to eat when he could. Some days you never knew when you'd get the chance again.

He sat for a moment, his eyes moving around the room. It had been crowded earlier, but now there were only stragglers, most of them sitting and nursing coffee. He wondered how the battle with the fire was faring. He'd heard some of the men talking about it last night, and how they might be starting to get a line around it. That would be welcome news.

With nothing to do at the moment, he knew he would start to get fidgety. Not wanting to pressure Joanne into anything she wasn't ready for, Hank got up from the table under the pretext of getting more coffee.

"I'll be right back," he offered, noting that she barely nodded in acknowledgment, and she never looked up from her plate.

Hank stood for a moment, searching in vain for something comforting to say, but eventually gave it up. He wished she would have let him take her to the Red Cross shelter for the night. At least there she would have had other women around her, maybe even a counselor to talk to. But along with Joanne DeSoto's strength of character that Hank admired and was such an asset in a firefighter's wife, came a stubborn streak a mile wide. She had been determined to stick around the command center - just in case, and nothing he said had been able to dissuade her.

While Hank understood Joanne’s reasons, he knew because of them, she'd spent a very restless night, getting little sleep and no rest for her frayed nerves. Even though he had persuaded her to find an out of the way cot to lie down on, every time the radio crackled to life or someone came in the gym fresh from the fire, Joanne had sat up expectantly, only to lay back down in heartbreaking disappointment when none of the men brought news of Roy.

With a small sigh, Hank moved away from the table and headed over to the row of large coffee urns. He hadn't slept any better than Joanne, and he had a feeling he was going to need all the caffeine he could get today. He was filling his cup with the strong smelling liquid when he heard his name. He turned and saw Chief Smitz headed his way. Something in the man's countenance turned Hank's stomach to water.

Christ, this isn't gonna be good news.

"Captain Stanley... I need to speak with you a moment."

~*~ 

Joanne sighed and finally put down her fork, admitting defeat in her battle with breakfast. As she regarded the Styrofoam plate in front of her, she saw that she'd only managed to eat about a third of the scrambled eggs and about a half a piece of toast - if you didn't count the crust. Her small cup of orange juice was only half empty, and even her coffee was only partially touched. The rest of it sat cold in the cup.

She knew she was tired. She'd only managed to catch a few minutes sleep here and there last night. Hank had meant well when he'd tried to talk her into staying at the shelter, but she knew it wouldn't have mattered. She could have been put up in a luxury suite, and she still wouldn't have been able to sleep - not without knowing what had happened to Roy.

Joanne was trying to stay positive. Chief Smitz's logic sounded good on the surface. Somehow John had been hurt. Roy had done what he could, then gone for help, and in the unfamiliar and fire-threatened terrain had gotten lost. Simple. Easy. But it had been nearly three full days since anyone had seen her husband. Yes, she realized that the fire was covering a massive amount of acreage, but they knew where Roy had disappeared. They'd found Johnny not far from there. Certainly with all the men they had at their disposal, somebody should have been able to locate him.

Her thoughts drifted to Johnny. Even his condition was still basically an unknown to Joanne and Captain Stanley, but at least that would be taken care of fairly soon when they went to see him at the hospital. She should be just as worried about him. From the vague information they had gotten, it sounded like Johnny had been pretty badly injured. But at least they knew where he was, and Joanne couldn't help pushing her concern for her husband's partner into the "not quite so urgent" part of her brain. And she knew Johnny himself would tell her that was rightly so. She knew that as soon as he woke up, John Gage would be nearly as worried about Roy as she was.

"Joanne?"

Hank's voice penetrated her thoughts and she looked up to see him standing beside her. Next to him was Chief Smitz, his bulky frame a stark contrast to Hank's lanky stature. She couldn't read either man's face, and something inside her panicked at that. But before she could say or do anything, Hank slid onto to the bench beside her and placed one of his large hands over hers.

"Hank?" She hated the quaver in her voice as her eyes darted from her husband's captain, to the Ventura fire chief.

"Joanne... they, uh... they found Roy."

Those were the words she'd been waiting so long to hear, but the joy she'd expected to feel upon hearing them failed her. She let her eyes drop to stare at Hank's hand on the table. She couldn't even feel her own underneath it, and she wondered if her whole body had grown numb. Certainly her brain had. It wasn't registering anything. And then she slowly realized Hank was speaking again.

"He... he, uh..." Hank wiped a hand over his face and Joanne felt a surge of pity for him for having to do this. "He's over at the same hospital as John. We... that is I... I'll go do a positive ID on him."

Her head shot up and her voice finally began to work. "They don't know for sure it's him?"

Hank glanced up at Chief Smitz, who cleared his throat before he spoke.

"There's very little doubt, Mrs. DeSoto. He was wearing his turnout coat with his name on it. The ID is... well, it's strictly a formality, I'm afraid. I'm so very sorry."

Joanne nodded mutely. The chief nodded crisply, then walked away, leaving her with a heavy silence. Joanne was still in that numb state. Nothing had sunk in completely, and it wouldn't, she supposed, for some time. Right now nothing seemed real. She heard Hank clear his throat and she wondered idly why men did that. Was it supposed to be some silent signal that they were out of their depth and were barely treading water?

"If you're ready... well, we can go over to the hospital. I, uh, I can go down and take care of things at the morgue. That is, if you still want to go to the hospital."

Joanne finally turned to meet Hank's eyes. "Of course I do," she stated evenly. "I'll need to be there... for Johnny. When he wakes up... I need to be the one to tell him about... well, when he wakes up he'll want to know. When he wakes up..."

She stopped in mid-stream, her words hitting her hard. They knew almost nothing about Johnny's condition, except that it seemed serious and he'd had surgery. It suddenly dawned on her that there was a very real possibility that Johnny might not wake up. That both Roy and Johnny might... The weight of that was almost too much for her fragile control. She had to do something. If she sat here a moment longer she would lose it. She abruptly stood up from the table.

"Let's go, Hank," she said, grateful that her voice remained even.
 

~*~

Joanne didn't even remember the drive to the hospital. It could have been two miles or twenty. She just knew that suddenly they were there, and Hank was opening her door for her. She knew it wasn't just the act of a gentleman. If he hadn't done it, Joanne wasn't sure she would have ever gotten out of the car. After Hank had pulled into an open parking space and killed the engine, she hadn't made a move to open her door.

She had to hold it together. She had things to do. She had responsibilities. She had to be strong; for the kids, for Johnny, even for Roy. Roy would expect her to be able to handle this. He would expect her to be able to cope. She couldn't let herself fall apart. She couldn't let herself feel yet.

And then there was that tiny little voice in the back of her mind that kept reminding her they hadn't made a positive ID yet. There could still be a mistake. Roy might still be out roaming the hillside trying to find his way home. She tried not to listen to it. She'd heard what Chief Smitz had said. Why would anyone else be wearing Roy's turnout coat? But she couldn't help letting that voice convince her to keep the door of hope open just a bit.

She saw Hank extend his hand, and she knew she had to move. She took it, and let him help her out of the car. As they made their way across the parking lot, Hank's hand slid down to hold onto her arm. Joanne felt a sad smile lift the corners of her mouth. Hank Stanley was a good man. She knew this wasn't easy for him, yet he was still looking out for her.

The single story hospital looked small when Joanne compared it to Rampart, but they'd been assured by Assistant Chief Tellar that it was a good hospital; in some respects better than the bigger one in Ventura. He said a lot of good doctors preferred it out here. Closer to the golf courses, he had said with a smile.

They walked inside, the air conditioning providing tremendous relief from the heat and hazy air. Hank led her to the information desk where a white haired woman greeted them pleasantly.

"Good morning. How may I help you?"

"We're here to see John Gage," Hank informed the woman. "We were told last night that his doctor... uh, Doctor Jepson, would be here this morning to fill us in on John's condition."

"Certainly," the woman nodded. "Doctor Jepson is due in shortly. If you'll just have a seat..." She gestured toward a cluster of small air chairs.

Hank shot a glance at the waiting area and turned back to the receptionist. "Uh, yeah... and while we're waiting on the doctor... we... uh, we're also here..." Hank cleared his throat and gestured to Joanne. "This is Joanne DeSoto. We were told her husband's... uh, her husband's body was brought in from the fire. We, uh... we need to..."

"Of course you do, my dear," the woman interrupted gently. "I'll call downstairs and tell them you're coming. They'll have all the forms to fill out down there." She let her eyes wander to Joanne. "Are you both..."

"Yes," Joanne answered quickly, before Hank could say anything. She didn't want to argue with him, but she had to do this. She knew she would never accept it if she didn't see for herself.

The kindly receptionist seemed to understand. Her smile grew sympathetic. "Whatever you decide, honey, it's your choice. If you'll just wait a moment, I'll call."

It didn't take long. The hospital didn't look very busy, and Joanne didn't suppose they had many calls for the morgue on otherwise quiet Sunday mornings. In a very kind and understanding voice, the woman gave them directions to get to where they needed to go.

Looking back, Joanne could only assume it was shock, but she seemed to feel nothing as she walked with Hank down the long corridors, past radiology, past the lab. Because it was Sunday, there were only a few people working. It was so quiet that the sound of their shoes on the linoleum was the only thing Joanne could hear. Life had taken on a surreal quality, as if she were watching it happen to someone else and she was only a spectator.

All too soon they reached the door they needed. Hank stopped, and Joanne followed his lead, looking up to find him regarding her compassionately.

"Joanne... I can go in and do this. What I mean is, you don't have to..."

"Yes I do, Hank." She gave him a small, grateful smile. "I know what you're trying to do and I appreciate it. But I have to do this... for me."

Joanne couldn't say any more, and she hoped he understood. Apparently he did. Hank nodded once, then pushed open the door. Joanne steeled herself and walked inside.

She'd never been in a morgue before, and she wasn't sure what she'd expected. She supposed what she'd built up in her mind was a result of television and movies and what she knew of big city hospitals. This room was smaller than she thought it would be. There weren't any big metal drawers where bodies where stored, though she supposed they had a few somewhere. Perhaps out of deference to grieving relatives, they kept them out of sight. There were a couple of doors that obviously led somewhere other than this room.

It was through one of those doors that a middle aged Asian man came through. He greeted them with a kind smile, and held out his hand to Joanne.

"You must be Mrs. DeSoto. I'm Doctor Hamada.... the pathologist here at Valley Community." The smile faded a bit from his face.  His voice was soft and compassionate, although his tone a bit rehearsed, as if he’d given this speech to other grieving relatives on numerous occasions. "I know this isn't an easy thing, and everyone handles the situation differently. You can spend as much or as little time as you need."

Joanne nodded that she understood, but didn't think she could trust her voice at the moment. The doctor gestured to the door he'd just come through.

"We're set up for you in here."

Joanne wasn't sure how she got her feet to move. They felt leaden, as if they were weighted to the floor. But however she did it, she ended up walking through the door, into an even smaller room. But this one wasn't empty. A long table took up most of the space. On top of the table was a draped figure, and Joanne's breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. She felt Hank's hand on her elbow in case she needed support and she began to wonder if, in spite of all resolve to stay in control, she was going to lose it anyway. She grabbed hold of his arm and held it tightly.

The doctor was regarding them both, as if waiting for a signal. Hank must have nodded, for the man moved to the head of the table and took hold of the sheet. Joanne's fingers tightened on Hank's arm, and she wondered briefly if she was going to leave bruises there. A stray memory flashed through her mind of the ones she'd given Roy during her labor with Chris. Roy had been so determined to stay with her and help her through it, but he'd actually yelped when she'd latched onto his forearm during those last painful contractions.

The memory was so vivid, Joanne couldn't keep back a choking sob as the pathologist pulled back the sheet, revealing the face underneath.

Oh my God.

Joanne didn't know if she'd said it out loud as she sagged against Hank, but she did hear his softly breathed, "Thank the Lord."

"It's not him," she managed to get out, not sure if the doctor had heard her whispered words.

Hank swiped a hand over his eyes, and echoed her sentiments. "It's not him. It's not Roy DeSoto."

The sheet went immediately back over the stranger's face, and the doctor ushered them back into the waiting room. He and Hank were talking, but Joanne didn't really care what they were saying. The relief she felt was almost overwhelming, and she had to work at not giving in to it completely. Roy wasn't in that room. But that meant Roy was still missing. Her ordeal wasn't over yet, but she'd certainly been given a reprieve.

 ~*~

Hank paced about the small waiting room, looking for something new to stare at. There were no windows in the tiny space, and he’d long ago tired of examining the standard ‘hospital’ art that graced the walls, so he continued his pacing. From across the room, he glanced over at Joanne, instantly aware that she hadn’t moved since the last time he looked at her.

Studying her for a moment, Hank realized how much he admired the resiliency of firemen’s wives. Sure, there were some who couldn’t handle the stress, but for the most part, these women exhibited a strength and stamina that was amazing. Joanne was doing that now.

The last 48 hours must have been some kind of hell for her to live through; the waiting, the tedious drive up from Carson, and the long uncomfortable night at the high school. But the last two hours could be described as nothing less than horrifying. For God’s sake, the woman had been told that her husband was dead, and yet she insisted that she be present when identifying the body. Standing there in the morgue as the man pulled back the sheet, Hank had found himself trembling slightly at the thought of viewing Roy DeSoto’s lifeless body; he couldn’t imagine what Joanne must be feeling. But when the body was uncovered, the shock they’d experienced was incredible.

Through it all, Joanne had held herself together, and Hank still didn’t fully understand how. There had been tears in her eyes, but she never broke down; never gave in to the incredible sense of relief she must’ve felt. Maybe it was due to the fear that Roy might still be dead. Whatever the reason, Joanne insisted that they go back upstairs to see Johnny, her focus shifting momentarily to the welfare of their friend.

Hank wanted to enfold the woman in his arms, reassure her that everything was going to be all right, and Roy would be found alive and well. But although he’d tried, Hank hadn’t been able to get past the unseen wall the two of them had erected. He sensed that it was a type of protection they’d built for themselves, a kind of defense. If they didn’t let the other one see how vulnerable they really were, then they could carry on - wait for whatever news was coming with a false sense of strength and security. In the end, Hank decided it was best to leave well enough alone, and he gave Joanne the privacy she needed. But inside, he secretly wished that Grace were here to offer Joanne the comforting shoulder of another fireman’s wife.

Returning to his pacing, the captain thought about his paramedics. Roy and John had been under his command long enough for Hank to know that they would go to any lengths to watch out for, and protect one another. It was hard to understand or imagine what had transpired in the middle of this fire, but he knew that if they’d parted company, they didn’t have a choice. For one to leave the other, it had to be a life or death situation. That knowledge did little to alleviate his fears, and Hank found himself even more worried about his missing man.

“Damn it! What the hell happened out there?”

His astonished gaze met Joanne’s shocked countenance as the captain realized his thoughts were no longer his own, and his right fist ached where he’d slammed it into his left palm. With a look of deep regret, Hank moved toward Joanne, but he didn’t have time to make his apologies. The door had swung open revealing a man in a white coat, a medical clipboard in one hand.

“Captain Stanley?”

“Yes. I’m Hank Stanley.”

“I’m Doctor Jepson.”

The two men shook hands, and Hank turned immediately to the woman now standing beside him.

“Doctor, this is Joanne DeSoto. Her husband and John Gage are partners.”

“Mrs. DeSoto.”

Joanne didn’t answer, merely nodding her head in acknowledgement, as the doctor shook her hand.

“I hope you understand why no information was given out last night when you called. We have very strict rules here about divulging confidential information about our patients. However, I’ve been informed by the fire department, that you’re to be regarded as ‘family’ in Mr. Gage’s case.”

“Thank you.”

Hank made a mental note to extend that thanks to Chief McConnikee when they returned to L.A. County. He was sure that the treatment they were receiving now, was a direct result of his late-night call to his superior.
 

“I’m sorry for the delay. I won’t keep you waiting any longer. Mr. Gage’s condition remains stable. However, that’s just what it means, stable. This man has received some potential life-threatening injuries.”

“Doctor, we’re not familiar with any of John’s injuries. Could you fill us in?”

“Certainly, Captain. Mr. Gage suffered a blow to the back of the head, resulting in a fairly serious concussion. The x-rays do not reveal any fractures, but he hasn’t regained consciousness to the level where we can conduct any neurological checks. He was in shock when he arrived at the hospital, causing us some difficulty during surgery, but we were successful in locating and repairing the internal bleeding. He has several broken ribs. However, neither of his lungs was punctured. There is, of course, the issue of smoke inhalation, along with a sprained left wrist and elbow. Oh, and you’ll notice that he has a patch over his right eye. He suffered some minor damage from the burning debris, but it is mostly superficial. I don’t expect there to be any permanent loss of vision.”

As the doctor’s recitation ended, Hank and Joanne found themselves silently wishing for the familiar voice of either Kel Brackett , Joe Early, or even Mike Morton. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with this doctor. On the contrary, he seemed very professional and efficient as he disclosed the list of injuries Johnny had sustained. Still, he didn’t give them the details they were used to, or follow his list with the encouragement that the two needed to hear.

“If neither of you have any questions, I’ll take you to see him now.”

The three moved quietly from the waiting room. Hank couldn’t help but wonder how much longer this nightmare was going to last. Roy was still missing, possibly already lost to them. Johnny was unconscious. How much longer would Joanne be able to hold onto her resiliency? For that matter, how long could he?
 

~*~ 

The end of the hallway seemed to be like a mirage that one could never reach, and Joanne suddenly realized that it was the second long hallway she’d walked that day. For a moment, Jo found herself wondering if she would be able to hold onto her fragile emotions when she actually looked on Johnny’s face.

From in front of her, the sound of the doctor’s voice drifted back, and Joanne stayed focused long enough to know that he was giving them instructions on visiting policies for the Intensive Care Unit. They were being treated as Johnny’s family, giving them more freedom, but were still only allowed a short visit.

When they finally reached the entrance to ICU, Joanne held back as the doctor and Hank Stanley led the way. She was anxious to see her husband’s partner, yet there was a part of her that dreaded the meeting. What would she say to him? How could she ask about Roy? As she wondered if Johnny would even be alert enough to answer questions, the doctor’s comments suddenly came back to her. Johnny hadn’t been conscious enough to manage a neuro check, how would he be able to give her information about Roy?

Her mind whirling with questions and concerns, Joanne realized that they’d finally reached the door to Johnny’s room. The doctor opened the door, but his body momentarily blocked Joanne’s view.  She bumped into Hank’s back when he stopped suddenly and said in a low voice that broadcast his shock, “Oh my God.”

Joanne slipped around Hank, wondering what it was that had caught him by surprise. Based on the captain’s reaction, she expected to see John Gage swathed in bandages and looking like he was on death’s doorstep.  Instead of Johnny, though, the sight that awaited Joanne was burned forever in her memory.

“Roy! Oh my God, it’s Roy!”

Joanne stood stunned as she recognized the familiar form of her husband in the bed. His face was turned towards her, but the one eye that was visible was closed, and he didn’t seem to be aware of his visitors. She watched anxiously as Roy’s chest rose and fell with each breath, worried that the sound was somewhat strained, but relieved that he was breathing on his own. Joanne continued to stare at her husband, unaware of the voices of concern beside her, and unable to fully accept that Roy was right here before her.

For the first time since this whole ordeal began, Joanne DeSoto finally lost control. Tears streaming down her face, Jo made her way to Roy’s side and took his battered hand into her own. Hank stayed beside her, his arm firmly encircling her as she sobbed quietly, but her eyes never left her husband’s face. She murmured over and over “He’s alive, he’s alive,” and wouldn’t let herself be led away. It was several minutes before Joanne finally allowed herself to be lowered into a chair the doctor brought for her. Only then did she look up to meet Hank’s gaze.

“Ho…how, Hank? How?”

Hank was visibly upset himself. Relief, fear, confusion; the emotions seemed to be warring for a place of honor on his troubled face.

“I’m not sure. An educated guess tells me that Roy and Johnny tried to assist the man we saw in the morgue.   Roy must have had reason to put his coat on the man, and then later, after Roy was injured, Johnny put his coat on Roy.”

“But that means. . .”

“Yeah,” Hank slowly nodded. “It’s Johnny who’s still missing.”

 

~*~ 

The noises around him were deafening, and a series of incessant beeps seemed to pierce his skull with shooting pain. He lay as still as possible, hoping that whatever had happened to him would fade away; or at least that the painful part would. Yet, a nagging feeling that someone was waiting finally caused him to open his eyes.

Blinking in surprise at the brightness of the mid-morning sunshine, Roy DeSoto was also confused at the darkness he experienced in sharp contrast. He moved his hand upward, fully intending to rub away whatever was blocking his view, even while he wished that the glaring light on the other side could be turned off. It only made the pounding in his head more intense. But another hand caught his, the grasp firm yet gentle, and very familiar. He knew immediately that his wife was beside him, and Roy turned in an effort to locate her. When he did, he was puzzled at the look of fear upon her face.

“Jo?”

His voice was a thin replica of its normal resonance, and even Roy didn’t recognize the sound. But the smile it caused to flash across his wife’s face was well worth the effort.

“Yes, it’s me. You’re not dreaming.”

“What . . what happened?”

It was almost as if a foggy haze filled his mind like cotton candy that was frothy and light, but stuck to everything it touched. Roy started to shake his head in an effort to clear it from the offending sense of confusion, but that only proved to increase the piercing pain in the back of his head.

“Shhh, lie still, Roy. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here.”

Unable to formulate his questions, Roy finally relaxed back into the softness of his pillow, content to focus on the tenderly murmured voice of his wife. There was something he needed to ask her - something very important that he had to know. But he couldn’t pull the question from deep within him, it escaped his every effort. Moments later, Roy was asleep.

Several hours passed before he managed to pull himself up from the swirling grey mist again. However, this time, Roy was more aware of his surroundings. The fuzz of confusion seemed to be lifting, and he even recognized that he was in a hospital room. The beeping noise was simply a heart monitor sitting directly next to his bed. It only took a moment for him to realize that an eye patch was altering his vision, but he was still able to make out the look of love and relief on his wife’s face.

“Jo?”

He felt his right hand being lightly squeezed.

“I’m right here, Roy. How do you feel?”

“Crummy. What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Well, yeah . . some.”

Roy’s voice was ragged, and his throat ached with the effort of talking. He paused while Joanne lifted a small cup full of water to his lips. When he’d managed to sip a little of the cold liquid, he went on.

“Johnny and I…we stopped to help some…guy…a hiker…who was caught out in the fire. I…somehow I took a fall I think.  Don’t…don’t remember exactly how it happened. After that, umm…uh… Johnny went to get help. The guy…we…we lost him, he…he was badly burned. He needed...needed to be at a hospital.  I think... I think after that…after I knew the guy was dead…I tried to follow Johnny. That’s all I remember.”

Roy looked slowly around the room, as if trying to understand just exactly where he was.

“This isn’t Rampart.”

“No, you’re still in Ojai.”

“What day is it?”

“Sunday.  It’s one-fifteen on Sunday afternoon.”

Roy’s astonishment was evident when he questioned, “Sunday?  Last I knew it was Thursday.”

Joanne smiled just a little and tossed out a feeble joke. “Time fly’s when you’re having fun.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess it does.  How’d you get here? Did Johnny call you?”

He didn’t miss the slight frown that appeared on Joanne’s face, but she got up and began to bustle around, straightening the covers on his bed as she answered.

“Hank brought me up. He was here until just a few minutes ago.  He went to call the guys at home and give them an update. He’ll be back to see you in a little while.”

“What about Johnny? Is he with Cap?”

Joanne didn’t answer, and for the first time, Roy felt a stab of fear.

“Jo? Where’s Johnny?”

When she finally met his gaze, Joanne’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, and Roy knew. Immediately, the beeps of the heart monitor rose in intensity as the man pushed himself up from the bed.

“Where is he? Jo? What happened? Didn’t Johnny--”

Joanne gripped Roy’s shoulders, struggling to hold him back as he attempted to escape her grasp. The only thought in his mind was to get help. Someone had to help him look for his partner. Was anyone even aware that John Gage was missing? The firemen from Ojai? Or the men from Ventura County? Did any of them know that one of their brothers was lost in the burning forest? Or was Johnny just another faceless member of the crowd?

From a distance, his wife’s voice broke through.

“Roy, please don’t. They’ll find him, Roy. They’ll find him.”

Unable to push him back, Joanne simply held on as Roy continued to struggle to rise from the bed. He was weak and gasping for air, but he was driven by something far more powerful than the pain of his injuries. Afterwards, Roy wondered if he would’ve made it off the bed if Hank hadn’t returned when he did. The captain instantly took over, the ring of authority in his voice stilling Roy’s frantic attempts to rise. The on-call nurse had already paged the doctor, but by the time he arrived, Roy had calmed down considerably. Though he was exhausted, the worried man listened carefully to all his captain told him about the search and rescue efforts, confident that Stanley would not rest until Johnny was found.

It wasn’t long before Roy lost the battle against his fatigue. The hours out in the fire, the dehydration, blood loss, and surgery - everything worked together to leave him exhausted. His eyes slid closed, but even as he held onto his wife’s hand, Roy’s last conscious thought was of his missing partner.

Where the hell are you, Johnny?

Part 4