Serendipity

  Part 8

 

“Guys, gather around; I’ve got an announcement to make.” The Cap gestured for everyone to sit around the table in the kitchen. They had already begun the order of the day with assignments handed out, and already had their first run under their belt. Everyone had filed into the kitchen for some late morning coffee, and Hank thought it would be a good time to tell everyone.

            Captain Stanley eyed Roy as his crew took seats around the table; Roy gave no indication that he knew what he was going to say. “Gentlemen, I have something to tell you.”

            “What is it, Cap?” Mike asked, sensing Hank’s hesitation. The Captain seemed a little disquieted.

            “Guys, I wanted to let you know that Gage stopped by my house yesterday. We had a long talk, and well, I’m sure some of you will be surprised,” he eyed Roy, “but he’s decided to, ah…retire…from the department.”

            The next thing that was heard was a loud outburst of surprise from all the guys, and Hank found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of questions.

“What?”

“Why?”

“I thought he was coming back in a couple of weeks?”

“What did he say, Cap?”

            Hank held up his hand, noticing the utter shock on Roy’s face. He groaned inwardly. Gage didn’t tell him. After everyone quieted down, he explained John’s decision using the reasons he had given him yesterday. When he was through, the whole crew looked shell-shocked. It was a blow; despite the fact that there was constant teasing around the station, especially where Gage was concerned, they were a very close-knit crew, and to have one of them quit and ‘break up’ the brotherhood they had shared all these years was upsetting. Hank did his best to defend Johnny, out of respect for his decision, even if he didn’t agree with it. When he was done with his announcement, the others gloomily left the table to do their assignments – except Roy and Chet.

            Roy stared off into space, fingering the handle of his coffee cup, while Chet paced the room, going on about what a mistake he thought it was for Johnny to quit, and how it was probably his girlfriend’s fault, that she had coerced him into it.

            Through Kelly’s tirade, Hank sat back down beside Roy at the table. “He didn’t talk to you about this?”

            A mixture of feelings was swirling through Roy, mostly anger and confusion, but also hurt and disappointment. “Nope. Not a word. Just a few days ago he was saying he’d be back in a few weeks.”

            “Hmm. That’s strange. Well, I guess something made him change his mind.”

“Yeah, Heather,” Chet piped in, “He does everything she tells him. He’s like her little wind-up doll.”

“Kelly…” Cap’s voice said he was about to lose patience if Chet didn’t shut up.

Chet saw the look on his Captain’s face, and after mumbling an apology, left the room.

Hank turned to Roy. “I told him yesterday to go discuss it with you, and he said he was going to stop by your house. I guess he never showed up, eh?”

            Roy looked up at Hank. “No,” he answered quietly. Roy spun the ashtray on the table around a few times, then said. “What’s the real reason why he quit, Cap? Did he tell you?”

            Hank sighed, and leaning back in his chair, began absently examining his fingernails. “Roy, all I know is what I told you. I got the impression that this last injury was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He’s tired of getting hurt, and after rethinking things, he’s decided he doesn’t want to take any more chances with his life. You’ve got to admit, he’s had way more than his share. Frankly, I’ve gotta say that, if I were in his shoes, I might be making the same decision. It’s just that…”

Roy looked up. “What, Cap?”

“Well,” his brow furrowed, “it just seemed like his heart wasn’t in his explanation, you know? Like, he was trying to convince himself this was the right thing to do more than he was trying to convince me. I’m just not entirely convinced that he believes he made the right decision.” Captain Stanley leaned toward Roy. “I’ve worked with you guys quite a while now, and I like to think that I know my men pretty well. I thought I knew Gage, and it just seemed to me….well, he seemed too hesitant. You know how Gage is when he’s sure of something; we’ve all seen it on the job, and in his personal life; well, I just didn’t see that sureness yesterday when I talked to him.” 

            Roy pushed the ashtray away. “Chet may be right, Cap. Heather wanted him to quit. That’s probably why he did it, or at least some of the reason.”

            “You think she talked him into it?”

            Roy sighed. “Probably. It upset her when he was shot; she thought his job was too dangerous. I guess it didn’t help much when we were all carrying on about his accidents at the spaghetti dinner. I don’t think she knew about all the other times he’d been hurt, Cap. That probably upset her more. But there’s something else; I’m not sure that Heather liked the ‘image’ Johnny portrayed.”

            “Image?”

            “Yeah. I think she looked down at Johnny’s career as blue collar; you know, not good enough, not prestigious enough.”

            “That’s ridiculous.”

            “Yeah, I know. But I really believe that’s her perception.” Roy began tearing at a napkin on the table. “He’s changed since he met her, Cap. I think he’s tryin’ to be the kind of guy that Heather wants, but it’s just not him. I just wish he could see it, before it’s too late.”

            Hank frowned. “I’m not sure I see what you mean. Around here, he seems like the same guy he’s always been.”

“That’s just it, Cap. Around here, he is. But as soon as they’re together, he acts differently. I don’t know how to explain it. I just hope….I don’t know….I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me. I guess I thought…our friendship was a little more important to him than that.”

“Is it possible he could have stopped by and missed you? Were you home all day yesterday?”

“Yeah, we were home all day; as a matter of fact, Wesley…” Roy stopped abruptly, thinking, “…Wes was there all day yesterday. He stopped by in the morning….” I thought he was never gonna leave…then Joanne invited him to dinner! If Johnny drove by and saw he was there; he wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me while Adams was there… “Cap, I’m gonna go call him.” Roy stood up. “Do you suppose….could I….”

“Use my office, Roy,” Cap said, patting his senior paramedic on the shoulder. “Let me know if you can talk any sense into him.” He leaned in closer to Roy. “Just between you and me, I’m not going to turn in his resignation for a couple of weeks, at least until the time that Dr. Early would have cleared him for duty – just in case.”

Roy smiled wanly. “Thanks, Cap.” He started toward the door.

 

After leaving the day room, Chet had gone outside to think. He stood leaning against the brick wall, watching the freeway traffic whiz by. It surprised him to realize how angry he was feeling, and worse, how depressed he was at the thought of Gage not returning. It made him mad to think of how Heather had probably coerced John into quitting; it was no secret how Johnny felt about being a firefighter; Chet knew how much Johnny loved his career. In that respect, they both had something in common. Being a fireman was the only thing Chet had ever wanted to be in his life. He couldn’t imagine giving that up, even for a woman.

Another thing he didn’t want to admit was that he was going to miss John. Chet was going to miss the daily bantering; it was one of the things he looked forward to at work every day, especially whenever he had a chance to put the Phantom into action and pull one over on ole Johnny boy. He smiled to himself, remembering all the times he’d gotten Gage with water bombs, flour bombs, rubber snakes, and countless other things. And though he didn’t like to admit it, Gage had gotten him back good a few times too many. Despite their constant quarrelling and trick-playing, they had established a close friendship. They fought like brothers, but there was always that underlying unspoken love that brothers had. They all had it; this crew, they were a team. And now it was a team that was going to be broken up. Chet sighed as he thought of Johnny’s likely replacement, Wesley Adams. He didn’t like the man; for one thing, he was humorless to play jokes on. And for another, well, he just didn’t like him. Chet still blamed Wesley for the incident on the day of Johnny’s release from Rampart, when Wesley had told Johnny how ‘sick’ Jennifer was. Then Johnny had felt too guilty to ask Roy to drive him home, and had taken a cab instead. Chet still felt that Adams had done it on purpose for some reason, and it bothered him. There was just something creepy about the guy, and it made Chet uncomfortable.

Deciding to go in for a cup of coffee, Chet emerged through the back door into the engine bay. He saw Wesley standing still outside the day room entrance, his attention obviously on a conversation going on inside. Chet watched him a moment, and his irritation grew. An idea possessed him that he couldn’t resist. Wesley didn’t hear Chet walking toward him.

When he got right behind him, Chet smiled evilly, then let loose a loud “yah!”, while simultaneously poking Wesley in the back. The man nearly jumped out of his skin, and turned angrily toward Chet.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, ya know.”

Wesley was incensed. “Kelly, you’re an asshole!” he shouted, forgetting that he was in the doorway.

Roy and Hank Stanley were on their way out the door, and less than three feet away; Captain Stanley’s brows were raised in ire as he looked at the two of them. He was a bit surprised at the malicious tone of Adam’s voice. “Is there some problem, gentlemen?”

Chet looked innocently at his captain, and folded his arms as he answered. “No problem at all, Cap, at least not with me.”

Hank looked at them both; Chet looked like the cat that ate the canary, and Wesley’s face was red with anger. Do I really want to know? “Guys, why don’t you go…scrub some hoses or something.” It wasn’t a question.

Adam’s stalked off, still angry, and Chet wandered away, a slow grin forming on his face. Gage may be leaving, but Wesley Adams might just prove to be a better pigeon. He decided he was going to make sure to go out of his way to torture the man; his growing dislike for Wesley was just made stronger by the knowledge that Gage wasn’t coming back. And for some unexplainable reason, Chet felt like that was Wesley’s fault.

Adam’s mind was racing, and he was angry. Chet had made a fool of him, catching him as he’d been listening to Roy and Captain Stanley’s conversation. But what was worse was what he’d overheard. He’d had the hardest time not showing how ecstatic he was when they all learned of Gage’s resignation, and now here was Captain Stanley telling Roy that he was going keep the resignation papers from headquarters in the hopes that maybe Roy could talk Gage into coming back to work! Well, that plan was going to backfire, that is, if he had anything to do with it. He began forming a plan right then; one way or another, Headquarters was going to know about Gage’s resignation, and he was going to apply to fill the opening – permanently.

 

           

Johnny picked up the phone on the third ring “Hello?”

            Roy couldn’t help it; he just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “The Cap just told everyone you resigned.”

            There was a long pause. “Do you think you could say hello first?”

            “Hello.” Another long pause. Roy’s voice was softer now. “Why didn’t you come talk to me about this before you decided?”

            Roy heard a deep sigh. Johnny felt guilty now that he hadn’t talked to Roy first, but he couldn’t very well tell him that he tried to stop by three times, and didn’t want to talk with him in front of Wesley. He figured that would sound kind of juvenile to Roy. And he certainly couldn’t tell him what Heather had heard in the restroom. Even if he did, Roy would certainly deny saying any of it. But he also felt a little defensive. After finding out how Roy really felt, what right did he have to act like Johnny had an obligation to tell him? “I guess…I’d made up my mind, and I didn’t want you to try to talk me out of it.” His voice sounded a little more defensive than he’d intended.

Roy held off answering a moment, trying to think of the best way to respond to it. You’re damn right I would have tried to talk you out of it, because you’re making a mistake. This isn’t what you want, it’s what Heather wants. He couldn’t say his real thoughts though, or Johnny would just get more defensive. “Johnny, if I knew this is what you really want, I wouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it. I just wish…you would have talked it over with me first. Maybe I could have…I don’t know….offered you a little insight.”

I got all the insight I need, Pally. Yeah, you’re right; you wouldn’t have tried to talk me out of it, because you don’t want me back.

Roy went on, “You know, we’ve been partners a long time. The least you could have done was to call me. You’re leaving affects me too; it would have been nice to know about it before Cap dropped the bomb on all of us.”

            God, he sounds like Heather. But I guess he’s right. “I’m sorry, Roy. You’re right; I should have told you.”

Then, why the hell didn’t you talk to me?! Roy heard the reticence in Johnny’s voice, and knew he’d said the wrong thing. It had sounded selfish and accusatory. He knew that the decision must have been agonizing for Johnny to make, and regretted his scolding remarks. It was just so damn frustrating! He forced a more congenial tone to his voice. “Look, why don’t you do what the Cap suggested, and think about it a little while longer? You’ve got time; you don’t have to make a final decision until Early clears you. He could hold your resignation letter for a couple of weeks. We could get together and talk about it…”

            Boy, Roy sure sounded convincing. He sure sounded like he didn’t want him to quit. Now Johnny wished he had talked with Roy yesterday. Maybe the outcome of his decision would have been different. God, it was all just so damn confusing! Now Roy was causing him to second guess his decision. Johnny plopped down in the chair next to the telephone and rubbed at his forehead. I’ve made my decision; I can’t go back on it now. I’d look like a fool. Besides, if I go back, I’ll be riskin’ my life again, and things would be over with Heather. He thought once again of the conversation Heather had overheard, and his resolve to stick with his decision hardened.

“Look, Roy; I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” I really do. You’re tryin’ to sound sincere that you want me back, so I’ll feel better. But it’s not working. It’s making me feel worse. “But I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think this is the best thing for me to do.” 

Roy slumped in the captain’s chair, resting his forehead on the back of his hand. He decided then and there that he wasn’t going to try to argue it out with Johnny on the phone any longer; it wouldn’t work. He would get together with Johnny later in person, and maybe then they could have a talk. He had a little time; Cap wasn’t going to turn in Johnny’s letter of resignation for almost two weeks. Maybe in that time, he could convince his partner to stay on. He decided for now, to retreat. “Well, if this is what you really want, then, I don’t want to stand in your way.” I’m gonna miss you, Junior. I’m gonna miss us being a team. It’s not gonna be the same without you. He longed to say those words, felt them boiling inside him, ready to explode from his mouth, but held back, feeling the strain between them, uncertain over how his sentiments would be taken.

“Yeah, this is what I really want to do.”

“Well, then – ”

Johnny heard the tones in the background, and his heart filled with an ache.

“Uh, I gotta go,” Roy said quickly.

“Okay, talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

John heard the phone click. He stared at it in his hand for a long while before he finally set the handset back into its cradle.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

“I’d like to get away for a few days,” she heard him say.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” She hoped he would get the hint that she wanted to go too.

“I’m….packin’ up my camping gear. If you’d….like to come with me…” He didn’t dare make his voice sound too hopeful.

Hers sounded disappointed. “Oh, honey, I’d really love to get away with you, but I can’t. I’ve got appointments the next few days.”

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to be disappointed, knowing she would turn him down, but still, he was. He tried to keep his voice upbeat. “That’s okay. I’m used to camping by myself. I enjoy it.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. Four or five days maybe.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “That long, huh?”

“That’s not that long,” he commented. Not when you’ve got the rest of your life to do nothing.

She was silent for a moment, then cheerfully said, “Well, be careful, and don’t hike anywhere that you might fall.”

His back to her, he’d rolled his eyes, not saying anything.

“Call me when you get back, okay?”

“I will.”

She hesitated then, a nervous thought crossing her mind that she should just give in and tell him she wanted to go with him. After all, she really didn’t have any appointments to go to. But then, she said nothing. “Well, have a good time.”

“Okay. Bye.”

 

A week had gone by since John’s telephone conversation with Roy, and he and Heather had barely seen each other. Ever since he’d told her that he finally made the decision to quit and turned in his resignation, things were even more strained between them. He had expected his news would make her happy, but instead of seeming pleased, she barely reacted. Even Heather herself couldn’t explain why she felt so uneasy about his decision, but something about it caused her to feel a great remorse. It didn’t make sense. This was what she had wanted all along, and now that he’d done it, she didn’t feel happy. Her reticent response baffled and frustrated Johnny, causing him to wonder further if he’d done the right thing. 

The one time they had gotten together that week, they had argued; first, about where they were going to eat dinner, then about what he was going to wear. He had picked her up wearing blue jeans, wanting to go eat Mexican food. Johnny missed Marco’s stationhouse cooking, and had his taste buds all set for a little Mexican dive he and the guys used to go to. Heather had other ideas that evening, and was dressed for a nicer place. They had argued, and finally Johnny had given in, going to the restaurant of her choice. She’d made him go back home and change into nicer clothes, fussing over his hair before they went into the restaurant. The final straw had been when he’d been talking to her about something benign during dinner, and she’d commented, “John, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He had dropped his roll onto his plate, chewed up his bite angrily, then said, in a low voice, “Quit talking to me like I’m your child.”

The rest of the evening had been strained, and they’d barely spoken to one another before he dropped her off at home for the night.

He had seen Roy once; the light-haired paramedic had invited him over for breakfast one morning after shift, hoping to casually bring up the conversation of Johnny’s ‘retirement’, in the hopes of changing his mind. He was really missing Johnny now; Adam’s continual dependence on him was beginning to wear thin. Roy was almost desperate to come up with a way to get Johnny to change his mind about quitting. The two of them had just started a friendly conversation about what Johnny was going to do with his free time now that he wouldn’t be working, when Wesley showed up at the DeSoto house, reminding Roy that he’d promised to help him do some painting. Roy had told him in a nice way that he hadn’t expected Wesley to show up that particular day, but Wesley persisted that since he was there, he might as well get started. He told Roy he would ‘just get started’, and that the two of them should just go ahead and enjoy their breakfast. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he said. He’d shown up in his painting clothes with rollers and tools in hand. Roy felt so guilty that the man was so eager to help, that he couldn’t find it in himself to ask him to leave, feeling it would be rude.

Irritated and disappointed, Johnny gave him an easy out. He finished his breakfast, then made an excuse to leave. They never got the chance to discuss why Johnny had resigned, and Roy never got the chance to talk him out of it. Roy cursed Wesley the rest of the day, and was short with him. That made him feel guiltier, especially when Wesley seemed to be going out of his way to be cordial and friendly.

For his part, Adams was silently gloating, congratulating himself for breaking up their little get together that morning. His adeptness at eavesdropping had proven useful; he’d heard the telephone conversation at work the previous day in which Roy had invited Johnny over.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Camping was wonderfully therapeutic. It was also insightful. Johnny spent the days in quiet, doing the things he loved, things he hadn’t done in months. Keeping in mind that he was still recovering somewhat, he took familiar trails that weren’t too difficult, but enjoyable just the same. Winter rains had brought waterfalls, and the landscape was lush with beauty. He climbed and hiked himself into exhaustion, but it was a good exhaustion, allowing him to sleep soundly at night. Twice it was warm enough that he slept outside under the stars, snuggled in his sleeping bag by the fire, listening to the soothing music of the crickets and night noises. Why Heather, or anyone for that matter, wouldn’t enjoy the sereneness of his surroundings was beyond him.

He’d dusted off his camera, and was pleased at the shots that offered themselves to him. He was able to catch a mother rabbit and her babies on film early one morning, and the lighting in the evenings was ideal for some awesome landscapes and sunset shots. He had fun setting up his camera and doing some time exposures, some quite long, knowing that the long term effect of the dim light burning into the film would cause interesting visuals and color shifts. When it got darker, he stopped the frame advance, and, using the timer, exposed himself with a flash several times in the same frame, laughing to himself at how it would look when developed. He’d done it before, and had a good time doing silly poses. It was very entertaining. It would have been fun to have someone to share it with, but he still felt content just being by himself.

He never had minded being alone too much. It was something he’d grown used to since he was a young teen, and it had allowed him to grow comfortable with himself. Even though he could be a very social person, and enjoyed spending time with close friends, or now, Heather, he’d grown used to depending on himself more than anyone else, not only for companionship, but for every obstacle or hardship he’d encountered in life. Having been forced to deal with and comfort himself in times of sadness or trouble had allowed a strong independence to mature his personality. In a way, subconsciously, Johnny was afraid to develop too strong of an attachment to anyone, for fear of losing his own dependence on himself. Relying on someone else for support and then losing them was something he didn’t want to experience again. It had happened after his parents’ death, and then his grandfather had died after that, and he had been left alone to fend for himself.

His grandfather had taught him to appreciate nature, and he had slept under the stars many times with him growing up. Now every time he camped and got away from the noise of the city brought back fond memories of times with his grandfather, and he felt not only closer to him, but to his parents and brother. Somehow out here, he could talk to them, and really felt they could hear him.

Being alone out in the wilderness allowed him to clear his mind, and also gave him a chance to do a little self-analysis. He thought a lot about his friendship with Roy, and how it had changed ever since he’d won that money. As lucky as he’d thought he was to win it, it seemed to have come between him and his best friend, despite his earnest intentions not to let it. It saddened him to think that Roy could feel uncomfortable around him because of it, and now he had found someone else whom he considered his best friend and partner. Johnny refused to admit to himself how much that really broke his heart, even going as far as admonishing himself for ever letting himself get that close to someone. He’d let his emotions over a friendship rule over a very important decision in his life, the decision to end his career, and now he was feeling regret. He found comfort in the fact that maybe he’d be able to rectify the situation. He felt he and Roy could still be friends, and maybe even work together, but the level of that friendship would never be the same as it once was. Refusing to allow it to depress himself any longer, he chalked it up to being just another changing path in the journey of his life. Experience had taught him that all good things must end, and this was one of them. He let go of his anger, deciding it was useless to spend time and energy worrying about what someone thought of him. It was a hard thing to do, because he had a lot of respect for Roy’s opinions, but he was who he was, and as long as he felt he was being the best person he could be, that’s all he could ask of himself. Somehow being out in the wide wilderness allowed him to see a much bigger picture.

The serenity of his surroundings also allowed Johnny time to reflect more on his relationship with Heather. As much as he thought he loved her, and as much as he knew it would hurt to be without her, he couldn’t deny the fact to himself that long term, they could never be happy together. They were just too different. It was much more complicated than that, but he’d seen first hand what a good, stable marriage was about; Roy and Joanne had been good examples, and so had his parents, and he knew that sex wasn’t the only thing that counted in a relationship. That was just the icing on a very sweet cake. If he was honest with himself and looked into the future, he could see that a marriage between himself and Heather would probably end in divorce. Oh, there would probably be children before that; they both wanted them, and Johnny didn’t want his children to have to go through the emotional trauma of having their parents split. He couldn’t have imagined it happening between his own parents, and even though they died, he thought it would have been almost as bad. At least, to a child, it would have. At one time not so long ago, he would have been too immature to recognize all this. Now he was older and wiser, and he couldn’t deny the writing on the wall. But the most difficult thing to accept about the whole thing was the realization that Heather didn’t really love him. He’d finally figured that out, and now that he had, he knew what he had to do.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Everyone could tell that Captain Stanley was in a vile mood that morning during roll call. Even Chet was careful not to allow any slip-ups, knowing with the Cap in this mood, he’d probably be cleaning the latrine with a toothbrush for the next three years. The others tried not to stare wide-eyed as Hank ordered Wesley Adams into his office after he was done handing out assignments.

Roy watched as the man followed the captain into his office and saw the door close.

“Man,” Chet said with a whistle, “what did he do?”

“Beats me,” Marco answered. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Roy watched quietly, not expressing his opinion, as he checked the drug box.

Chet moved into closer range of the office in an effort to hear what was going on, but Marco admonished him to stay away. “The Cap’ll have your butt if he finds you out here listening in, amigo.”

Thinking better of it, he decided to get to his chore of hanging hose, and hope that Roy would fill him in later.

 

Hank stood behind his desk, trying his best not to glare at Adams. It was difficult. The Chief had reamed his butt two days ago when he found Gage’s week old notice on his desk. The Chief had asked Hank to stop by on his day off to question him about it, and when he’d found out that Hank had taken it upon himself to hold on to Johnny’s resignation to give John more time to decide, he was reprimanded. Stanley could have said that Johnny requested he delay it, but he didn’t like to lie. It always came back to bite you in the butt when you did; they could have easily checked with Johnny about it. The Chief had taken the resignation with him, and said that he would process it, so that they could get Gage’s position filled permanently as soon as possible. When Hank found out that it was Wesley who had informed headquarters of Gage’s resignation, in an effort to fill his spot, he was incensed.

“Sit down, Adams.” Hank decided to sit down himself, in an effort to calm himself. He folded his hands together on his desk and stared at the man in front of him.

Wes sat down nervously, trying not to show the defiance he was feeling. He had a pretty good idea of why he was here.

“I have two things to talk to you about. First, I understand you were at headquarters the other day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You applied for a permanent position here at 51’s.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In order to fill Gage’s spot.”

“Yes.”

Hank leaned forward and looked sternly into Wes’s eyes. His words were clipped. “Adams, it wasn’t your place to notify headquarters that Gage was leaving. It was mine. You went over my head and notified headquarters about his resignation, and I had told John that I would hold onto his notice for a few more weeks, in case he changed his mind.”

Wesley stared at the Cap, knowing that it had been Hank’s decision to hold on to the resignation, not John’s. His eyes narrowed slightly at his captain, and he said nothing.

Hank was unnerved at the expression on Adam’s face, but his anger over the situation was stronger. “What you did was inappropriate, and in the future, any information submitted to headquarters about any member of this crew’s tenure will be handled by myself. Is that clear?”

Adams continued to stare at the Cap, his eyes unwavering, as if in challenge. His voice belied his expression, and he demurred, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir. I didn’t know that you were planning to delay submitting the resignation.”

“What you did or didn’t know is unimportant. Just remember, from now on, you are not to get involved in any personal business relating to the employment of any member of this crew. Got it?”

Wesley took a deep breath, knowing he was in hot water. It wouldn’t do him any good to be on the Cap’s bad side. He decided to try another tactic, and lowered his gaze submissively. “Yes, sir.” He looked back up in earnest. “I do apologize. It’s just that…I really like it here, sir, and I guess…I was anxious be a permanent member of such a…fine crew.”

Hank looked away, feeling slightly guilty for coming on so strong. He fought with himself, then the softer side broke through. “Well…I guess I can understand that. Just so it doesn’t happen again,” he finished more softly.

“No, sir; it won’t.” Wesley was quiet a moment longer, then asked, “You mentioned there were two things, Cap?”

Hank took a deep breath and stood up. He looked out the window a moment, then back at Adams. “Yes, it, ah, seems that headquarters had reviewed your request, and you’ve been approved to stay on here…as a permanent member of A shift. Congratulations….and welcome aboard.” He held out his hand to shake Wesley’s, but his eyes didn’t convey his attempt at being congenial. A mixture of feelings swept through him, regret, sorrow, annoyance, and an unexplainable nervousness.

Wesley shook the offered hand enthusiastically, a broad smile filling his face. He couldn’t wait to tell Roy.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Six days of camping left Johnny feeling relaxed and content. He’d done a lot of contemplating during his time alone, and had come to a few conclusions about his life, and the roads he would take. He would have a talk with Heather, for one. And secondly, he wanted to find out if Captain Stanley still had his resignation letter on his desk.

Anxious to talk to the Cap, he drove to the station before he even went home. Looking a little more like a homeless person than a millionaire, he pulled his Rover into his old spot at the station parking lot, and got out.

Chet, Marco, and Mike were in the engine bay working on the rig, Captain Stanley was in his office, and the squad was out on a run.

“Hey, look what the cat dragged in,” Chet remarked upon seeing Johnny walk in through the open garage doors.

“Hi, guys,” Johnny held up his hand in a wave.

“What is it?” Marco teased. “Looks like some kind of a dead animal.”

“Ha-ha,” Johnny responded. He did look scraggly; he hadn’t shaved in almost a week, and the early stages of a beard and mustache had grown on his face. He was in his oldest, most worn and torn jeans, and his old flannel shirt looked like it had seen better days. His hair was as unkempt as it used to be in pre-Heather days. At least he had managed to bathe during his days off, washing in the cold rivers with special soap that wouldn’t pollute the water, so he didn’t smell bad.

“Let me guess. You’ve been camping.”

“Brilliant deduction, Einstein,” Gage answered, looking around. He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see the squad gone. “So, you guys workin’ hard, or hardly workin’?”

“Ah, you know the Cap, Gage; he’s a real slave driver.”

“Yeah, right,” Johnny chuckled. “Hey, is he around?”

“In his office,” Chet told him.

“Good.” Johnny nodded. 

“Hey, you catch any fish?” Marco asked.

“Yep. Loads. Got a cooler full iced down in the Rover. Thought I’d bring some in for the Cap,” he smiled wickedly.

“Oh, he’ll love you for that, Johnny,” Marco said.

Everyone knew how much the Cap hated fish. Johnny would have loved to bring in a big smelly and floppy one and wave it under his nose, only he decided that might not be a smart thing to do, given what he was going to talk to the Cap about.

Chet leaned up against the engine. He suddenly remembered how mad he was at Gage for resigning, and decided to let him know it. “Man, I can’t believe you quit.”

Johnny lost his smile. “Yeah….well, at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. That’s what I want to talk to the Cap about. “So, if you’ll excuse me – ”

“Wait a minute,” Chet stopped him. “Are you saying you’re having second thoughts?”

Johnny didn’t want to reveal anything until he’d had a chance to talk with Captain Stanley, but he was almost sure it wouldn’t be a problem. Even though he’d told him he didn’t have to, Hank had said that he would hold on to his resignation. “Well, I…might be…I just want to talk to the Cap about it, and see what he has to say – ”

“Well, you’re out of luck, pal, if you want your position back.”

“Yeah, you might as well forget it, amigo,” Marco added.

Johnny stared from one to the other. “What’re you two talkin’ about?” He looked up at Mike, who was nodding.

Chet shook his head. “Adams is what I’m talkin’ about. He was granted a permanent position here a few days ago. To fill your spot.”

Johnny stared at them in disbelief. “What? How could that be….I mean,” he licked his lips, “that was kinda fast, wasn’t it? And the Cap said – ”

“Screw what the Cap said, Johnny. Adams went to headquarters, told them you’d resigned, and asked for your position. And they gave it to him.”

Johnny’s mouth dropped open and he stared at them in shock. He could see by their expressions that they weren’t joking. Suddenly his stomach felt like someone had dropped a huge lead weight into it. Embarrassed at his own stupidity, he immediately tried to pretend that it was no big deal, which they saw right through. “Oh, well,” he forced himself to smile half-heartedly, “I guess I’ll just…go say hello to the Cap then.” Slowly, he turned away from them, and walked toward the Cap’s office in a daze. They saw him go in and shut the door.

Chet looked at Marco and shook his head. “Shit,” he said disgustedly. “He wants to come back. And we’re stuck with Adams. Shit.”

About two minutes later, all three saw the door to the office open, and Johnny walked out. He didn’t even acknowledge them as he shuffled out of the engine bay toward the parking lot. Captain Stanley came out just afterward and stared after Johnny sadly as he walked away.

Chet had just started after him when the tones went off. “Shit!” he cursed again, and ran for the engine. He saw Gage turn toward them forlornly from the parking lot as the garage doors behind them slowly lowered, and the front doors opened. The engine sped away.

 

 

The phone was ringing when he walked into his house. His visit to the station house had totally deflated him, and his mind was blank as to who might be calling. Dully, he said, “Hello?”

“John?” Her voice sounded tentative. “It’s me. Where’ve you been?”

He hesitated, could she have not paid any attention to where he said he was going? “I was camping. Remember?”

“Yes, I remember, but I thought you’d be home a day and a half ago.”

“Oh; I just decided to stay another day is all.”

“Oh. Well…I was worried.”

“There was nothing to be worried about. I go camping by myself all the time.”

“Well, I couldn’t help it. You said you would call when you got home…”

“I just walked in the door.”

“Oh. Could I…come over?”

He hesitated. Right now he was tired, and a little down, but he did need to talk to her. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be. “Sure. C’mon over. I’d…like to talk to you.”

Something about his tone unsettled her. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

He was pulling his gear out of his Rover when she pulled her Mercedes convertible into his driveway. She had gotten out of her car and was walking toward him when he set his cooler on the ground and turned to face her. Her smile faded when she got a good look at him, and she was so shocked at his appearance, she stopped short of hugging him hello. She hadn’t been able to hide the distaste in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Uh, nothing,” she stammered, then said, “gosh, John, I…hardly recognized you. You look so….”

“Scraggly?” He looked for her to acknowledge his choice of word. “Dirty? Mangy? Or….do I look just plain…uncivilized?” His slightly sarcastic tone left her feeling edgy.

“Well, no, of course not….just different. I mean, I’ve never seen you with….facial hair before. A-and your clothes…”

He had to laugh then at her choice of words. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “But I just got home. I haven’t had time to clean up yet.”

“Well,” she smiled, “I can wait.”

His smile fell away, and the look in his eyes was downright sad. “Am I….that repulsive that you can’t stand to look at me the way I am?” He held out his arms. “Take a good look. This is the real me; the side of me you never see,” he voice lowered to almost a whisper, “or want to see.”

His words startled her, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Usually, he was so eager to please her, and now…. “John…don’t be ridiculous; of course you don’t repulse me.” She stared waveringly at him. “Is…is something wrong?”

He sighed and looked down a moment, then back up at her. He realized he wasn’t being very nice, and that sarcasm wasn’t the way to work out this problem. As hard as it was, he finally managed, “I think we need to talk. Do you want to come inside?”

“Sure,” she said very hesitantly.

Wordlessly, he pulled his duffle bag from his car and went into the house. She followed him in, and he walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. She stood staring at him, and his manner really began to scare her. Something bad was coming; a terrible foreboding engulfed her. Her stomach tensed.

“Why don’t you sit down,” he said gently, realizing he was upsetting her. He was upsetting himself too, and he began to get a sick feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say; hadn’t rehearsed anything. He just knew he needed to talk things out with her, but wasn’t hopeful for the outcome, because there really wasn’t anything she could say that would make things right between them.

He hated this. But he couldn’t go on in this relationship any longer, knowing what the future would hold, or rather, wouldn’t hold. He took a deep breath, dreading the impending conversation.

Heather tentatively sat down beside him. “You know,” he began softly, “one of the things I love about camping is that it gives me a chance to think. When I’m out there by myself, I…kinda get a chance to work things out that are bothering me.”

She nodded silently, uncertain as to where he would take the conversation.

Johnny looked directly into her eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the two of us, and…and our future.”

Her eyes grew wide, and for a moment she was hopeful that he was talking about a permanent future together. “You have?”

“Yes.” He looked down at his hands, which were loosely clasped together between his knees, searching for the right words. “Heather, I don’t think you and I…” he looked back up at her, “could ever be happy married to each other.”

Her face changed from hopeful to crushed. “Why?” she whispered.

“It’s just that, we’re…we’re so different. I don’t think I’m the right man for you.”

She shook her head incredulously. “Of course you are! You’re the perfect man for me.”

He stood up and paced a few steps before turning back to her. “No, I’m not. You need a guy who’s….sophisticated, and, and worldly, and soave, and debonair. Someone who’s knowledgeable about money and investing, who knows about art and the theater and…wine and, and all the things that you like.”

“But you are that kind of man. And Daddy can teach you more about investing. You’re new at this; just give it some time.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes upward slightly. “You just don’t see it, do you?”

She stared at him, lost as to what to say. Finally, she asked, “Don’t you love me?”

He sat back down again next to her and took her hands in his. “Yes. I do. More than you know.” He looked out into the room. “How could I not love you? You’re…smart and pretty and talented and fun. You’re the most incredible lover I’ve ever had. You’re everything any man would ever want in a woman. There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

He looked down, and a bittersweet smile formed on his lips. “The problem is, you don’t love me.”

“What?” She was incredulous. “Of course I love you! I’ve told you that many times.”

“How can you love me when you don’t even know me?” His voice held exasperation.

“I don’t understand. Of course I know you.”

“No you don’t. You don’t know the real me. That’s because whenever I’m with you, I’m always pretending to be something I’m not, to please you. And I shouldn’t have done that. I guess…I wanted to be with you so badly that I tried to be the kind of guy I knew you wanted, but because of that, I’ve lost who I really am. I feel like I’m nobody now; I’m just a guy who won a lot of money….and all the things I used to be are gone. I feel like…I’ve lost my identity, and I feel like I don’t make much of a difference to anyone else’s life either.”

She knew he was referring to the fact that he’d quit his job, but it was still hard for her to comprehend exactly how much that affected him. She still felt it was for his own good, despite the fact that deep down inside, the guilt was churning. “John, don’t say that. It’s not true. You make a difference to me.”

“Only because I fit into the picture you’ve created.” He stood up again and walked over to the window and looked out. “I’m just a plain guy, Heather. Nothing special. And one of these days you’re going to realize that, and then that’s when everything is going to fall apart between us. I just don’t want that to be after we’ve gotten married and created children.”

She was silent for a long moment, desperately seeking the right words to prove him wrong, but couldn’t find them. “John…”

He turned to her again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you ever call me Johnny? That’s what all my friends call me. I told you that when we first met.”

That comment caught her off guard. She’d never even considered it. Stammering, she answered, “I…I don’t know. I guess I just like your given name. ‘John’, I mean, it sounds more….” Her voice trailed off, realizing how it would sound if she finished her sentence.

“More what? Dignified? Respectable? Rich? Important? What? ‘Johnny’ just doesn’t sound quite stately enough for you, does it?”

“No…that’s not true.”

“Would you have even considered going out with me if I hadn’t been rich?”

The fact that she had to think a moment confirmed for Johnny everything he had been saying. Even though her answer was truthful, the hesitation had stolen her chances of having him believe her. “Yes. I would have.”

He shook his head. “It’s all about image Heather. And I don’t fit yours.” He pointed to his own chest. “Hell, you don’t want me. You want a..a..a Ken doll. A perfect little gentleman who always says and does the right thing. Whenever I show you my true personality, you shut it down, push it away.”

She looked down into her lap miserably, knowing he was speaking the truth.

“Heather,” his tone softened measurably, and he felt sick inside at how he knew he was making her feel. “If only you could love me for who I am, instead of….who you want me to be. But I don’t think that’s possible.”

“I do. I swear I do,” she said desperately, and now her eyes were filled with tears.

He felt like a total shit now. Gently, he sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want either of us to be hurt. But you have to understand, I’m trying to save that from happening in the future, and believe me, the longer we go on together, the harder it will be.” His own heart was breaking, knowing that this was probably the last time he would hold her.

Heather was crushed. But she was also proud. And she wasn’t going to beg or argue with him. It was obvious he’d made up his mind, and she would step out gracefully. Maybe after he’d had time to think about it, maybe after they had parted for a while, he’d realize, he’d know what a mistake he was making, and he would come back to her. And if he didn’t….well, she didn’t want to even consider that right now. She wasn’t going to give up hope, even though right now it sounded hopeless. There had to be some way to convince him, and she swore to herself she would come up with a way to make it happen. Right now, though, she had to get out of there before she lost it completely. She didn’t want him to see her break down. No, she would do that in private. Determined to keep not only a stiff upper lip, but also her dignity, she pulled away from him.

He watched as she stood up rigidly, then reached for her purse. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her fingers, then took a deep breath, and slowly headed for the door. Johnny was partially relieved that she wasn’t going to break down and cry and beg him to stay with her, but at the same time he was also devastated that she didn’t. Stunned that she was actually going to leave, for good, he stood up and followed her woodenly. A little voice in the back of him mind screamed at him to reach out and grab her and pull her back, and tell her that it was all a big mistake, and that he hadn’t really meant anything he’d just said, but his breaking heart stopped him from doing it. Instead he slowly padded toward the door behind her, and when she got there, he watched her turn the knob and pull the door open.

She turned to look at him before she left, and there was a deep sadness in her eyes, a sadness that he had caused that he’d never seen there before. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, and then she turned away, but not before gently touching his cheek once. Then she was gone, and her car was backing down his driveway. He closed the door and hung his head.

 

A little while later, he forced himself to go outside and get the rest of his things from his car to unpack, in an effort to take his mind off the fact that he was miserable. After that, he forced himself to take a shower and clean up, hoping that would take away some of the tension he was feeling. He had a deep ache in his heart, and he stared unhappily at himself in the mirror as he shaved away the remnants of his camping trip. He didn’t blame Heather for her reaction to him when she’d first seen him; he really didn’t look too good with the scraggly ‘facial hair’, as she’d called it. It was funny; he’d gotten so used to seeing himself so perfectly attired and manicured over the last several months, that it startled him to see himself otherwise. He hadn’t looked in a mirror for almost a week.

As the day wore on, he realized how bad it hurt this time, and the sudden loneliness burned into him. He wanted to call Roy to talk, but couldn’t bring himself to do it, considering all that had transpired. He didn’t think he could bear hearing Roy say ‘I told you so’, or even if he didn’t say it, he’d know Roy was thinking it.

Pacing the house, he almost felt emotionally paralyzed, and by early evening, decided he would drink himself into oblivion. Maybe tomorrow the pain would be easier to deal with. Or maybe he’d be so hung over that that would overshadow the loss he was feeling. He tried to liken the breakup to surgery, something he could relate to. You always felt awful right after surgery, and the day after, but then a few days later it usually became more bearable. He’d had enough breakups to know, but this one was going to be rough. The problem was, he had nothing to take his mind off it.

At seven o’clock, he wandered out to the patio holding a bottle of beer in each hand. Sinking down into one of the poolside chaises, he cracked open the first one and guzzled it down. He stared out over the calm, glassy water, hoping the sereneness of it would rub off on him. Five minutes later, he opened the second beer, easily gulping down most of it, then stopped, waiting to see if it had any numbing effect. Balancing the bottle on his bent knee, he stared at the label, thinking.

He sighed. Well, Gage, you’re battin’ a thousand today. Lost your job and broke up with your girlfriend in the same day. Way to go. No…you didn’t lose your job, you quit, you moron. Well, you have no one to blame but yourself. You’ve really screwed things up. He looked around at his surroundings, taking in the magnificent house he lived in, the landscaping, the pool. Snorting, he realized it was all for nothing without meaning in his life. All that money hadn’t brought happiness; all it had done was screw things up for him. If he hadn’t won the money, he wouldn’t have quit his job, he wouldn’t have a house he didn’t want, he wouldn’t have alienated his friends, he wouldn’t have met Heather, and he wouldn’t be feeling like shit right now.

All this money, and what have I got to show for it? Nothing. Well, maybe there’s one thing. At least my aunt is in a better place. At least she’s away from that other place where they were practically abusing her. Except now that Meredith says they’re making changes, that it’s getting better. Maybe I should have left her there. She sure doesn’t seem very happy in the new place. I took her away from her friends, and now she’s so withdrawn whenever I see her. I guess the money screwed up her life too. God, what else can I mess up? What else can happen?

He leaned forward, ready to get up for another beer. Oddly, he noticed that the water in the pool was moving. Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, he squinted them, staring into the turquoise water as it started vibrating, the reflections in it suddenly blurry from the movement. He blinked, then glanced down at the nearly empty bottle of beer in his hand. Man. Two beers and I’m seein’ things? Johnny looked back up toward the pool. The water was still quivering. A moment later, he began to feel a vibration, adding to the effect of the water. Ah, stereo, he mused, realizing it was just a little tremor.

His amusement faded when he felt the vibrations grow stronger. A crashing noise caused him to jump, and he whipped his head around, shocked to see a part of the overhang on the back of his house break off and fall to the brick patio. The ground then began to shake violently underneath him, and he looked around, wide-eyed. A pang of fear and disbelief swept through him as he saw cracks opening up in the ground like hungry mouths beneath his feet and all around him. Water began spurting up from the concrete like geysers as the foundation of the pool broke apart, and he staggered backwards in shock. Johnny watched in horror as the walls of his garage began to collapse and the heavy structure crashed inward on itself, knowing that his shiny red Corvette had just been crushed inside. Then an even greater rumble shook the ground, and the air was filled with the loud roar of destruction, surrounding him, as if someone had set off an explosion. A loud boom emanated from a house several doors down, causing him to jump. He stared in shocked incomprehension as his house creaked ominously and began to sag, the glass windows shattering one at a time, almost like balloons bursting, and clouds of dust and pieces of stone, wood, and plaster spewed everywhere.

            Water was flowing like a river now from the cracked pool, and it poured over his feet. Pieces of the house were falling, some hitting his Rover, which was still parked in the driveway that ran along the side of the house, back to what was once the detached garage.

Suddenly grasping the fact that he needed to get out of there quickly, he pulled himself together and made a wild dash for his Rover, thankful that he had picked up his keys and slipped them into the pocket of the clean jeans he had put on. Pieces of debris made loud pings on the metal roof of the car as he threw it into reverse and backed it down the driveway. His mouth dropped open as he saw a large part of the roof tumble sideways off the house, hitting the driveway where he had been standing next to the Rover seconds ago. Feeling as if he were in the middle of Armageddon, he stopped the car at the end of his driveway, gripped the steering wheel, and watched, frozen, as the front porch of his magnificent home collapsed into a heap of rubble.

Then it was over. The whole thing had lasted maybe two minutes. It had only been seconds ago that the whole thing had started, yet those few seconds had caused total devastation. Johnny was sweating, his heart pounding, adrenalin bursting, as he stared, stunned and astonished at the wreck of his home.

After it finally sunk in what had happened, he allowed himself a glance around. At first, everything looked normal, but as his eyes focused on the details, he saw that several of the homes around him had severe damage, and the sidewalks and street behind him bore gaping cracks caused by the earthquake. It was unbelievable. Johnny had lived in California for quite a few years, and had experienced quite a few minor earthquakes, but nothing like this had ever happened. It was common knowledge, and everyone kept it in the back of their mind that maybe someday the big one would hit, but no one wanted to think about it, much less consider the devastation and loss that would occur if it happened. Johnny wondered how much it had encompassed, and how much damage it had caused, not to mention how many people had just died. Had to be at least a 7.0, he thought.

Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he put his car in park when he saw his neighbor appear in her front yard. Amanda Daniels was in her late forties, and was standing on her lawn, gawking at her crumbling house.

Johnny stepped out of his car and headed toward her. She seemed relieved to see someone, and was shaking. “Are you all right?” Johnny called.

            “John!” She called back. They had spoken a few times to each other, but rarely did they encounter one another, due to the privacy and space between the houses.

            Johnny closed the gap between them, and as he did so, he saw her husband emerge from the house, seemingly intact.

            “My God, can you believe this?” A tall, good-looking man, Justin Daniels was a stockbroker. His dark hair was peppered with bits of plaster, and his usually pristine attire appeared ruffled and unkempt.

            “No, I can’t,” Johnny answered, still shaken himself. “Are you both all right?”

            “Yes, yes, we are, thank God. Are you?”

            “Yeah, I’m fine.” Johnny looked around; a sudden feeling of panic enveloped him. “Listen, I’ve got to go.” He turned and trotted away from them. Looking back over his shoulder, he yelled,  “You two, don’t go back inside; it’s probably not safe.”

            “We won’t!” came the answer.

Johnny left the couple standing helplessly on their front lawn, wondering what they should do next. He hopped back into his car; the only thought on his mind was Heather, who lived only blocks away.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Joanne DeSoto had just finished doing the dinner dishes. She glanced out the window and smiled as she saw Christopher and Jenny swinging in the back yard. She felt so lucky to have such good kids. Sure, they had their share of fights, but all in all, they got along well together, and were good companions for each other.

After drying her hands, she sighed as she eyed the full laundry basket on the floor by the basement door. I’ve got to get Jenny’s Brownie uniform washed and ready to wear tomorrow. After that, I’ll relax. Picking up the basket of clothes, she took a step into the basement stairwell. Before her foot hit the top step, the ground began to shake. At first, she paid little attention, used to the small tremors they got every so often, and so she continued down. By the third step, however, the floor suddenly lurched. A small cry escaped her throat as she felt herself lose balance. Her foot slipped off the step and she started to fall. The laundry basket flew from her grasp as she fruitlessly flung her arms out to support herself, and helplessly, she tumbled down the steps, slipping under the railing of the open stairwell to land on the hard concrete floor.

 

“Chris, you’re swinging too high!” Jenny wailed.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! Look! The legs of the swing set are coming out of the ground!”

Chris looked down and saw what Jenny was talking about. It was true that sometimes on metal swing sets the legs would bounce off the ground a little when one swung too high, but this swing set was wood, and was quite heavy. His father and Uncle Johnny had put it together for them a few years ago, and had buried the heavy six by six square legs into the ground to keep it stable. Now those heavy wooden legs were uprooting, and Chris suddenly felt nervous. Quickly dragging his feet on the ground with each pass, he slowed down, ordering Jenny to do the same.

When they had stopped, they noticed that the ground was shaking. “Hey, I think we’re having an earthquake!”

“We are? Cool!” Jenny squealed.

“Let’s go tell Mom!”

Together, they sprinted toward the house. By the time they had made it to the back sliding doors, the ground was calm once again. They slammed the door shut as they entered, not seeing their mother around anywhere. Several dishes that had been on the kitchen counter had apparently fallen to the floor and were broken, to their dismay.

“Mom?” Chris called; a tinge of fear grew in the pit of his stomach.

They waited a few seconds, and started to look around. All the pictures on the wall were crooked, and some books had fallen off the bookshelves. An end table had tipped over, spilling the lamp onto the floor. “Where is she?” Jenny asked, a hint of worry edging her voice.

“I don’t know,” Chris answered. “Mom!” he called from the bottom of the stairs going up. He has just started up the stairs when he heard Jenny scream for him. Running toward the sound of her panicked voice, he bolted down the basement stairs to find Jenny crying next to her unconscious mother on the floor.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

“Ah, Marco, you’re chili is outstanding, as usual,” complimented Captain Stanley as he wiped the last remnants of the soup from his bowl with his bread.

“Thanks, Cap.”

All the men of A shift were gathered around the table eating. It had been a pretty routine day, and the men were all voraciously hungry after a late afternoon run had worked up their appetites.

Chet reached for his nearly empty glass of milk, and noticed that it was slowly scooting away from him. “Hey, guys; look at this.” He gestured to the glass of milk that was beginning to clatter across the table, threatening to spill its meager contents. Chet reached out and picked up the glass, and then all the silverware on the table started to rattle, followed by the plates and glasses. Before anyone could respond, a large pan slid off the counter, making a loud clanging noise as it collided with the floor, and then all the men jumped as the chalk board on the opposite wall came loose and fell, hitting the floor with a resounding crack.

Captain Stanley wasted no time. He stood up rapidly and ordered, “Everybody out! We’ve got an earthquake.”

Hastily, everyone got up from the table and followed him out the back door. No one really thought it would be ‘the big one’, but they left the building just the same, to be safe. Feeling the ground tremble underneath them, they all looked at one another, waiting for it to stop. Nearly a minute later, it did.

Captain Stanley waited a few more moments, then announced, “Okay, looks like it wasn’t too bad. Back inside.”

“That seemed like a pretty good one,” Marco commented. “I wonder if it was stronger elsewhere?”

It didn’t take long to find out. In less than two minutes, the klaxon sounded, calling first the squad to an ‘injured man’ run, then the engine to a fire. It would soon become apparent that parts of the city had indeed suffered quite a severe earthquake.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Johnny did his best to avoid the cracks in the street as he drove the short distance to the Banks’ house. Intense relief swept over him as he pulled up to the curb to find that Heather and her mother were outside standing in the driveway. They didn’t see him as he ran up the circular drive and around the stone wall, but when they finally heard his feet hitting the pavement behind them, they turned, revealing expressions of shock and horror.

The house appeared intact, but upon closer inspection, Johnny noticed that the front door was partially open, and that quite a bit of debris littered the porch area. Then he noticed many of the windows were broken. One of the large wall lanterns now swung lazily upside down, hanging on by only its electrical wires, its glass cracked, and he saw that two of the mighty pillars holding up the large portico were severely cracked and appeared unstable.

Heather and Johnny ran to each other instinctively, both forgetting their earlier break up.

“Are you all right?” Johnny asked breathlessly, catching her by the arms, then turned to her mother, asking the same question with his eyes.

“Yes, we’re fine.” Her voice was trembling and urgent. “But Daddy’s still inside! We didn’t know where he was, and we had to get out; everything was falling.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll find him,” he reassured. “You did the right thing getting out. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” she said urgently. “We’ve got to get my father!” The sounds of sirens in the background caught his attention, and he was glad to know that help was near by.

“Troy’s inside looking for him. I’m afraid something’s going to happen to him too!”

“What?” Johnny’s face showed his concern, and he gazed up at the house. He heard groaning noises even as they stood there. “He shouldn’t be in there.” He looked at Heather’s mother. “Do you know where he went?”

“I think he was going to try to look for Arthur in the den. We think that’s where he was, but the door was blocked; we couldn’t get near it! Oh, God; please help him!” Barbara’s voice sounded desperate.

Johnny stole another look at the house, then looked down the street. He could see an engine and a squad pulling in several doors down, and smoke billowing out from the house they were parked in front of. He had to get Troy out of the house before he became a victim himself, then he would get help from the crew down the street, since it both looked and sounded improbable that they would be able to reach Art from inside the house. He turned back to Heather and her mother, and grabbed an arm on each, coaxing them away from the house. “You both need to get away from the house,” he urged.

“But Daddy and Troy – ”

“Listen to me,” Johnny said sternly. “This house could collapse. Now both of you, get down to the sidewalk. I’ll go in and look for Troy, and we’ll see if we can get your father out. Help will be here soon. Don’t worry, okay?”

Reluctantly, they backed away, then scurried halfway down the driveway, away from the house, following John’s orders. They watched as Johnny jumped over the wreckage at the front porch, shoved the front door open with his shoulder, and disappeared inside.

Johnny made his way through the foyer; the air was thick with dust from debris. The once beautiful marble floor was now completely covered in chunks of plaster, and the paintings on the walls had fallen, ruined, to the floor. He coughed as he made his way through the haze. “Troy?” he called, then “Art?”

A voice responded from down a hallway; he remembered that Art’s den was at the end of this hallway at the front of the house, next to a large living room.

“Hello?” The voice answered back, then through the dust, he saw a figure emerge.

Johnny picked his way over the piles of debris and made his way toward Troy.

When Troy realized who it was, his eyebrows raised in surprise, and he snorted. His face turned angry. “What are you doing here? After what you did to my sister, I ought to kick your butt out of this neighborhood, much less our house.”

Johnny’s jaw clenched in anger. He always knew that Troy didn’t like him, and now he was showing his true colors. “This isn’t the time to argue about my relationship with your sister. You need to get out of here – now.”

“I can’t leave without finding my father,” he snarled. “Unlike yourself, I have loyalty to people.” Troy reached out, fruitlessly trying to lift some of the debris away from the doorway, which had piled up almost to the top of the frame.

Johnny could tell he would never be able to get into the room from this entrance. “Look, there’s no way you’re going to be able to get in there. Now listen to me. I know what I’m talking about. We’ll get your dad out, but not this way. This house could come down any minute. You need to get out, before you get hurt, and let the fire department take care of finding your father.”

“Oh, I’m so touched by your concern for me,” Troy said sarcastically. “It’s too bad you weren’t so concerned about hurting Heather.” He straightened and yelled, “Now get the hell out of our house!”

Johnny pressed his lips together in frustration, trying to hold on to his patience. His attention was immediately diverted to a slight trembling he felt emanating under his feet. The house began to shake in an aftershock, and debris started to fall around them. Troy looked up in alarm.

“Watch out!” Johnny yelled, and grabbed Troy’s arm, pulling him out of the way of a large chunk of ceiling that began to fall.

Troy fell forward, the heavy plaster just missing him, and looked up at Johnny, who was laying on the floor near him. His expression was now fearful, and he looked back at what had just missed hitting him. The house continued to shake, and Johnny picked himself up off the floor, scooping an arm under Troy to help him up as well.

The two stumbled down the hallway, listening to the pieces of the house as they fell and crashed about them. They were halfway to the front door when a large piece of the railing from the stairway broke loose and fell, hitting Troy’s leg, and knocking him down. The man cried out in pain, and Johnny, who had also been knocked off his feet, crawled behind him and muscled the heavy railing off the man. The paramedic knew it was essential that they get out of the house immediately, lest the rest of it come down on the both of them.

The trembling seemed to stop for the moment, and things quieted down as they heard the last remnants of particles descending to the floor.

Johnny palpated Troy’s leg, thankful to discover that it didn’t seem to be broken, but the man seemed to be in a great deal of pain. “Can you get up?” Johnny reached under his arm to help him up.

Troy grimaced in pain. “I’ll try. Ahhhh!” he yelled, collapsing back down before he had even gotten halfway up. “I can’t,” he groaned.

Johnny looked around in desperation. They had to get out. “Hang on; I got you.” He rose to his feet and reached down for Troy’s wrist. In one fluid, practiced movement, he had the man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and carefully made his way to the front door, emerging safely into the evening twilight.

Heather and Barbara rushed up to meet him. Having safely carried Troy away from the house, he found a spot on the lawn to set him down. The two women fussed over the young man while Johnny tried to examine his leg. “It may be fractured,” Johnny proclaimed, now getting a better look at it. It was swelling fast.

“Forget about my leg,” Troy groused. “My father is still in there! I could have had him out of there if you hadn’t interfered!”

Johnny didn’t have the emotional energy to argue with the man. Instead he focused his sights on a way to save Arthur Banks. He was going to need some help, and Troy was now useless. Glancing down the street, he spied two of the paramedics from the engine company three doors down. “I’ll be right back.” He stood up. “Don’t go back into the house,” he warned. “I’m going to get some help.” With that he sprinted off down the street, leaving the three to watch after him.

His hopes rose as he neared the squad and saw who it was. “Steve!” The paramedic kneeling down looked up at him in surprise.

“Hey, Johnny! What’re you doin’ in this neck of the woods?” Steve Winslow had no idea Johnny actually lived in this neighborhood.

“Long story,” he answered breathlessly. He turned and gestured back at the Banks’ house. “I’ve got a man trapped in that house back there. I need some help; he’s probably injured.”

Steve looked down at his patient. They were just finishing up. “Okay. I think they can spare me for a few. Let me check in with the Cap, then I’ll be right down. It’s a good thing you’re here, man. We’re already spread thin. It’s gonna be a hell of a night. I doubt any of us’ll see our home for days.” He snapped his drug box closed and stood up.

“Yeah. It looks that way. I gotta get back. Try to hurry, okay?”

“Will do.” Steve watched Johnny turn to leave. “Hey, Gage!” Steve reached for a turnout coat and helmet for his friend. “Could you use these?” Steve wasn’t aware that Johnny had turned in his resignation, or he wouldn’t have offered the gear. Johnny wasn’t about to tell him.

Johnny smiled gratefully, and reached out to catch the items the man tossed to him. “Thanks, man.” He pulled the coat and helmet on as he ran, tightening the strap under his chin.

Heather and her mother were sitting on the ground next to Troy when he trotted up to them, and they looked up in surprise at the firefighter standing before them. Heather was struck by how handsome and brave Johnny looked in the uniform, and a sudden rush of not only relief, but of pride flowed unbidden into her.

“Help’s on the way,” Johnny announced. “Heather, when they get here, you direct them to the den window, okay?”

She nodded mutely, then asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna go find him. Now, you stay here, okay?”

She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, knowing that going back into the house was dangerous. “Okay,” she promised, and Barbara nodded her confirmation. Troy said nothing as he nursed his leg with a grimace. “Be careful,” she called after him.

Johnny ignored her comment and instead focused on how to get into the den. He spotted a trellis in front of the window to the room, and expertly began climbing it. The bottom of the window was about eight feet off the ground, and he scaled it as easily as if it had been a ladder. When he got to the top, he removed his helmet, and turning his head, smashed the helmet into the glass window, shattering it. He then brushed the shards of glass away from the frame, and hoisted himself inside. Heather, Troy, and Barbara watched as Johnny disappeared from sight.

He found Art immediately. The man lay crumpled on the floor halfway under his desk, covered with debris. Johnny knelt by his side, touching his arm. “Mr. Banks? Can you hear me?”

The man groaned and opened his eyes halfway.

“Art, it’s John Gage.” Johnny looked up warily as he heard tiny pieces of plaster settling inside the walls. Johnny started examining him, checking his extremities for any breaks. “Art, where do you hurt?”

“My….chest….can’t….breathe….”

Johnny pulled the man’s shirt open, checking his chest and abdomen. Several spots were particularly tender and he suspected broken ribs. He knew it could be very serious if any of the ribs had punctured a lung. Damn! I wish I had a stethoscope! Johnny checked his pulse, which was weak and irregular, and Arthur’s breathing was labored. John knew he needed medical treatment immediately. “Art, now I want you to just relax. I’m gonna get you out of here and to a hospital. You’re gonna be fine. Just try to breathe deep and slow if you can for me, all right?”

Art reached up to touch John’s forearm. “My wife….kids….get out?”

“Yes, everyone’s out; they’re all fine. Don’t worry about them okay. They’re all outside waiting for you.”

The older man seemed to relax somewhat, then gasped as he grimaced in pain, clutching at his chest. There was nothing more Johnny could do without help. A thump against the window momentarily startled him, thinking it was another aftershock, then he saw Steve materialize at the window; he was standing at the top of his ladder looking in.

Johnny sighed in relief. “I’m gonna need a stokes.”

“Comin’ right up.” Steve disapperared. He was back in under two minutes, and together, he and Johnny maneuvered Arthur Banks into the stokes and had him strapped in.

“Now we’re gonna get you outta here,” Johnny said confidently.

Steve climbed back out through the window, and Johnny slid the stokes out to him; together they carried it down to the ground and over to a spot in the yard near Heather, Barbara, and Troy.

“Thank God,” Barbara exclaimed, moving to take her husband’s hand. Arthur was wheezing now, his breath coming in short gasps, and he didn’t seem aware of her presence.

“Ma’am, you’re going to need to step out of the way, please,” Steve requested. Johnny’s former crewmate had already brought all the necessary items with him in the stokes, and had unloaded them into the grass.

Heather and her mother hesitantly moved back to make room for Steve and Johnny, while Troy sat quietly nearby. Johnny soon submerged himself into the man’s treatment, easily slipping back into his professional suit, as if he had just worked yesterday. It had been a long time since he’d treated anyone, his first time since the gunshot wound, and it came back easily.

Steve got on the biophone while Johnny took the vitals and relayed them.

“BP is 90 over 60….”

“…Pulse rapid and thready; respirations….45.”

“…He’s cyanotic; neck veins are distended.”

Johnny gingerly palpated his chest and abdominal area, which elicited a painful groan from his patient. “Suspect several broken ribs.”

Steve got the go ahead from Rampart for an IV and tossed the bag to Johnny. Heather watched wide-eyed as Johnny prepared a needle and deftly inserted the IV into her father’s arm. Johnny then began listening to the man’s lungs with the stethoscope.

He shook his head at Steve. “Diminished breath sounds on the left…clear on the right. His lung could be collapsed.”

Suddenly, Johnny’s brows scrunched together, and they all heard his urgent and frightening words.

“Respiratory arrest.”

Johnny heard Heather’s mother gasp, but barely registered it as he caught the paraphernalia that Steve tossed him for starting an esophageal airway. Johnny inserted the tube flawlessly, and immediately began delivering oxygen, while Steve relayed the happenings to Rampart. Johnny then reached for the electrodes to patch the man in, after Rampart requested they send them a strip. Steve took over with the respirations while Johnny finished the patches.

“This will be lead two, Rampart,” Steve instructed.

At the hospital, Dr. Bracket read the EKG with concern. A moment later Arthur Banks went into cardiac arrest.

Shit. “Flatline,” Johnny remarked in an even tone, seeing the reading simultaneously with Brackett. He lunged for the defibrillator.

“V-fib, eight! Defibrillate immediately.”

Steve smeared goop on the paddles while Johnny charged the machine.

“One, two, three, clear!”

Steve stopped the respirations and moved back. Johnny applied the paddles and shocked the man; his body convulsed upward.

Heather’s mother was now weeping.

Steve snatched up the phone. “No conversion, Rampart…….John, administer one amp sodium bicarb,” Steve instructed, after getting the order from Brackett.”

Hearing the order, Johnny prepared the injection and administered it into the IV. He waited a few moments. “Nothin’. Let’s hit him again.” He placed the paddles on the man’s chest once again, counting the seconds to himself, one, two, three, “Clear!” He shocked the man again. Johnny shook his head fiercely, noting the man still had no pulse.

Brackett ordered epinephrine.

John reached for the drug and injected it. “Epi’s in.” He stared at the monitor. “Nothin’.”

“Shock him again, eight,” came Brackett’s voice over the biophone.

Johnny tried once more. “Clear!”

They all held their breath while they heard the ‘thump’ from the defibrillator. Arthur’s legs jumped off the ground.

Johnny stared at the monitor, and let out a deep breath. “Okay. We’re getting’ something here now. I’m seeing ST elevations in the anterior leads.” Sweat was dripping down his neck now from the stress.

“We’ve got sinus rhythm, Rampart. ST elevations in the anterior leads,” Steve repeated.

“I see it. Okay. That’s looking better, eight. Do you have an ambulance there?”

“Not yet, Rampart.”

“Okay. Get him in here as soon as you can.”

“Ten-four, Rampart.”

The two kept monitoring Arthur closely while they waited for the ambulance. Heather and her mother stood quietly in the background, with Troy still and wide-eyed on the ground, obviously shaken, but also extremely thankful that their husband/father seemed stable for the moment. Heather watched Johnny now as he took over for Steve and continued delivering breaths to her father, and was suddenly overcome. Seeing her beloved Daddy almost die was traumatic enough, but now, as she watched Johnny, his experienced hands having just performed the necessary treatments to save her father’s life, and now tenderly administering life support to her father, an intense array of additional emotions consumed her. A combination of sadness, fear, love, pride, and guilt all filled her mind simultaneously, along with a realization of what her words had taken away from this man in front of her, who had so unselfishly just risked his own life to save not only her father, but a brother who loathed him. The thought of what she had really lost that afternoon brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she turned away.

Troy saw the raw emotion in her face and looked up at her. “It’s okay, Heath; Dad’s gonna be okay.”

She didn’t look at him, and was too choked up to speak.

It took twenty minutes for the ambulance to arrive, and Johnny never left Arthur’s side during that time. Fortunately, he remained stable, and he and Steve loaded him into the ambulance upon its arrival. Steve had applied a splint to Troy’s leg while they waited for the ambulance, and Troy was also escorted into the back of the vehicle, so that he could be checked out at the hospital. Johnny had a feeling that he was going to have a long wait at Rampart when they arrived. Out of habit, Johnny handed the necessary equipment up to Steve in the back of the ambulance, and thanked Steve for his help.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be back,” Steve assured. “This neighborhood alone is gonna need a lot of help.” He shook his head. “We’ve got a lot of injured people here.”

Johnny nodded, suddenly very tired from everything that had happened that day. He walked around the ambulance, approaching Heather and her mother. Heather had dried her eyes, and looked around, unsure of what to do next. Johnny felt awful about how he had hurt Heather that afternoon, and now she had to deal with this on top of what he’d done to her. Her father had almost died, and now it looked as though her home was destroyed as well. What he didn’t know was how terribly sorry she was for what she had caused him. It was something she knew she would apologize for, but right now wasn’t the appropriate time.

“You two can ride in the ambulance to the hospital if you like,” he said kindly.

“Yes,” Barbara answered. “We’d like to.” She laid her hand on John’s forearm. “I want to thank you for what you did.”

Johnny looked down, nodding. “Just doing my – ” he stopped abruptly, swallowing. “I mean, it was no problem. I’m just glad I was here to help.”

He looked into Heather’s eyes. They were glistening with tears and he saw unbridled gratitude there; but there was something else there as well that he couldn’t quite read. Sorrow, maybe? He couldn’t be sure, but there was definitely a stronger emotion there. It was probably the sadness he had caused her earlier that day.

“Thank you, John,” she said finally. “You’ll never know how much what you did means to us.”

He offered her a soft smile, and helped her into the front of the ambulance. Suddenly, her mother exclaimed, “Buffy! Oh my God, we forgot about Buffy!”

Johnny furrowed his brow. “Who’s Buffy?”

“It’s Mom’s little Yorkshire Terrier,” Heather explained, looking worriedly at her mother. “She must still be in the house somewhere. Mom, we have to go. We’ll have to look for her later.”

The ambulance driver looked anxious to leave, and Johnny knew they needed to get out of there. He looked around, then back at Barbara, seeing the dismay on her face, and the tears forming in her eyes. “Look. You need to go. I’ll go look for Buffy, okay?”

Barbara’s face sagged in relief. “Oh, would you?” Johnny nodded his affirmation. “Oh, thank you, John. Thank you, so much.” With that, she leaned toward him and quickly kissed him on the cheek, then climbed into the front of the ambulance.

“Okay.” He quickly shut their door and stepped back, waving once as the ambulance sped away.

Johnny’s shoulders sagged as the ambulance’s red tail lights disappeared into the evening. It was almost completely dark now, and Johnny didn’t relish the thought of having to climb around inside their dark house by feel alone and look for their little dog. But he had promised. Why, he didn’t know. Shaking his head, he looked around. Down the street, another rig was putting out a fire. Sirens blared in the distance. A beautiful spring evening had turned into one from Hell.

Johnny looked at his watch. It was almost eight thirty. The only light in the neighborhood came from the headlights of the few fire trucks near by, and the pale yellow moon rising overhead. The earthquake had knocked power out; the dark houses and lifeless streetlights were only silhouettes now, casting sinister looking shadows over the cracked streets. Looters will be out tonight, Johnny thought. Man, the cops’ll be just as busy as we are. He stopped himself. Not we. They. The cops’ll be as busy as the fire department tonight.

Johnny thought about what Steve had said about the department needing a lot of help. He wondered if there was anything more a resigned firefighter could do that wouldn’t be illegal. Steve had let him help, but only because he didn’t know that Johnny had resigned. There would be nothing more he could do, other than maybe helping some people with basic first aid. Sighing, he resigned himself to looking for the dog.

Maybe she got scared and ran outside. That’s what I would have done if I was a dog. Johnny decided to try the back yard first before going inside. A chill settled in his bones from the cool night air as he walked around the huge expanse of the house and turned the corner into the back yard. He began calling for the dog, but all was eerily quiet. The extensive landscaping kept the yard in shadows. Man, I can’t see shit out here. I need a flashlight. After no sign of finding Buffy, he decided to check inside, promising himself to be very careful. He would take a quick look around and call for the dog, and if it didn’t appear right away, he would get out.

The back door, while seemingly undamaged, was also locked, so he went around to the front of the house. Very carefully, he climbed in over the piles of boards, plaster, and rubble that had fallen, cursing as he hit his knee on the edge of something unseen. “Buffy! Buuuuuffffyyyy!” he called, over and over, moving very slowly through the foyer. He stopped when he thought he heard a whimpering. “Buffy? C’mere, Buff. Come on out…don’t be scared now.” He waited, then heard it again, a little louder, a slight whimper, then a short, muffled bark. Ah, she’s in here. He moved a little farther and called again. “Buuuffyyyyy! Buuufff – ” He stopped, and held completely still, his eyes wide. Oh shit.

Beneath his feet, he felt a rumble. Swifly, he turned, calling Buffy’s name once more before deciding to get the hell out of Dodge. The house started to shake. Barely controlled panic spread through his gut and he looked around for the entry. He was unable to see it in the dark, and frantically squinted his eyes to figure out which way he had come. Everything was black. Thinking he saw a crack of evening light, he headed quickly toward it with outstretched arms, tripping and falling over something unseen. The house creaked, and he knew it was an aftershock; his heart sunk at the realization that sometimes the aftershocks were worse than the original earthquake. He picked himself up quickly and continued on as rapidly as he could allow himself to go without tripping again, one foot awkwardly crossing over the other as he encountered uneven ground.

A terrible groan tore through the house, and the earth kept shaking, worse now, and things began to fall around him. He heard a sharp tinkle, then the sound of exploding glass, like a million marbles hitting a mirror, and he realized the crystals were falling off the chandelier. He yelled as one of them hit him in the head. It was small, but hurt just the same. Suddenly, he heard a horrible screeching noise and sensed the entire chandelier falling, and knowing it was nearly directly over his head, he dove in an effort to get away from it. A two hundred and fifty pound light fixture landing on him from a twenty-foot ceiling would surely kill him.

He landed roughly on a pile of something unknown, and half a second later heard the fixture hit the floor in an earsplitting crash. He covered his face with his arms as the crystals broke apart and fragments flew everywhere. After that, he tried to pick himself up, but the house was raining down upon him, bits and pieces bouncing off his body as he tried to protect himself, and soon he was surrounded with wreckage from it. He’d finally managed to get to his hands and knees when suddenly he felt a terrific blow to the back of his head through his helmet, and he collapsed. For a second his head felt like it might explode, and he felt as if he were falling, then his mind disappeared into a black hole.

 

 

Steve was right. Every fire station in Los Angeles was run ragged that night. The California Governor acted quickly however, and by morning, help from the Red Cross, the National Guard, and firemen all across the state were on their way to help. It was a devastating earthquake, although thankfully, the devastation was sequestered to only small areas. The damage that was done was extensive, and loss of life hadn’t been determined yet, but it seemed that the majority of LA had been fortunate and not suffered much damage. Hundreds of trapped people had to be dug out of their homes, and fires were burning at many of them.

Johnny was right also, the looters were out, but LA’s finest seemed to be able to stay on top of it that night. A curfew would be ordered for the following night. Power outages added to the chaos, but by early morning, crews were out all over the city working to restore electricity.

No exceptions were made for the A-shift at station 51. Both the engine and the squad were out all night, as one run overlapped another. All the men were worried about their families and friends, but duty didn’t allow them much of a break to find out about them. Captain Stanley made sure that each man got a chance to call their loved ones to check on them at least once, and each of them worked easier after finding out that their families had been spared any injuries. All except Roy. There was no response at his house when he called, and he was worried sick all night. At two a.m., he finally got some answers as to where his family was, and it wasn’t good news.

 

 

Dixie saw Roy approaching alongside a gurney, and watched him follow it in to the treatment room. When she saw him emerge a few minutes later, she motioned for him to come over. Taking his arm, she led him to the doctor’s lounge and told him about Joanne. He had refused to sit down when he’d first entered, petrified at what she might say. He knew that if she was taking him into the doctor’s lounge, something bad had happened.

Then, he’d sunk down into the chair after she told him how his kids found her at the bottom of the steps, and the extent of her injuries. Sickened, he stared off into space as Dixie described the open fracture she’d sustained in her leg, in addition to a concussion. Her condition was serious, but not life-threatening, thank God.

“She’s in surgery right now, Roy.”

Roy swallowed, the guilt at not having been home when it happened consuming him. Dixie read it in his blue eyes; familiar with the look.

“Now, Roy; I’m sure she’s going to be fine.”

“If only I hadn’t been at work. I always worry about leaving her and the kids for days at a time, and now…”

“Roy, she could have fallen down the stairs while you were there just as easily.”

“I know, but…”

“You know, you should be proud of Chris and Jennifer, the way they handled it. They’re pretty awesome kids; I guess they learned well from their dad.” She had told him how they had called for help, then waited with Joanne until a squad arrived. Dixie had settled them in Kel’s office, and they were resting on his sofa with blankets, waiting for their Daddy.

“Yeah,” Roy breathed out. “They are.” He stood up suddenly. “I want to see them, Dix.”

“C’mon.” She escorted them to Dr. Brackett’s lounge, and a tearful reunion ensued. Roy spent some time with them and exchanged a multitude of hugs and kisses, then made sure they were comfortable before he left, explaining to them that he had to call his captain and arrange to stay at the hospital with them. As much as he was needed that night, Captain Stanley would later tell Roy to stay at the hospital with his family, and that he would call in a replacement for him.

Roy looked shell-shocked as he walked toward Wesley, who had been waiting at the base station. As unshakable as Roy usually was, his wife’s injury had obviously unraveled him. Roy practically stuttered as he told Wes what had happened to Joanne, all the while shifting his weight from foot to foot, his glazed gaze focused on the wall ahead of him. His trembling fingers kept weaving themselves through the back of his hair as he spoke, and when he was done, he looked lost, the thought of almost losing his wife shaking him to the core.

Roy’s reaction lit a fire of jealousy inside Wesley; the depth of the man’s love and dependence on his spouse eluded him, but he was determined to take advantage of Roy’s vulnerability. Adams spoke in a hushed tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Roy took a shaky breath and let it out. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Kids okay?”

“Yeah. They’re doing fine. They’re shaken up, but I’m proud of them, the way they handled it.”

Wes smiled. “Well, I know where they got it from.”

Roy offered a fleeting smile from the obvious compliment.

“Roy, ah, Chris and Jennifer….they’re going to need someplace to stay. You can’t let ‘em sleep on Dr. Brackett’s couch all night. Have you thought about that yet?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go call their grandparents and see if they can come up.” Roy took a step towards the phone, but Wes stopped him.

“Roy, wait. Don’t go calling them in the middle of the night; you’ll just upset them.”

Roy looked at Wesley incredulously. “They need to know what happened to Joanne.”

“Yeah, I know. What I meant was, why don’t you wait until at least after the surgery; then you can give them more news, and it’ll give them a chance to let them sleep. I mean, they won’t be able to get here until after the surgery anyway, even if they left now. I’ll call Doreen and have her pick up Chris and Jennifer. They can stay with us.” Wesley saw Roy’s obvious hesitance. “Hey, they’ll love it. You know our kids get along great together. It’ll be like a slumber party. And then they’ll be closer to the hospital. It’s gonna take Joanne’s folks a few hours to get here, and then they’re gonna want to see Joanne. You’re gonna need someplace for those kids to go. Hell, your wife’s parents can stay with us if you want.” His face lit up with an idea. “Hey, you can too, if your house is too damaged.”

Roy shook his head, overwhelmed. “No…I don’t know….Wes…”

“How about just for tonight then? Doreen can pick them up and they can stay with us until Joanne’s folks get here. That way they won’t have to sleep on Dr. Brackett’s couch all night.”

Roy sighed. He was tired and upset and confused, and Wesley was pushing him into something he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with, although it sounded perfectly reasonable. Finally, he decided that it couldn’t hurt for one day, and then he’d have Joanne’s parents watch the kids. He would have to stop at his house at some point, and make sure it was safe to be in there. He had no idea how much damage the earthquake had done, except for what little the kids had told him. “Okay, why don’t you call Doreen. I’ll…I’ll wait a little while and call Joanne’s parents after the surgery. Then I’ll be able to let them know she’s doing okay.”

Adams nodded, confirming Roy’s choice. Roy closed his eyes briefly and sighed a shakily, rubbing at the back of his neck. Standing right in front of Roy, Wesley saw the opportunity, the vulnerability, and pounced, having awaited this moment for a long time. Gently, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around Roy in what Roy assumed was just supposed to be a supportive friendly gesture – the kind of quick, male hug that wordlessly conveyed, ‘hey man, I understand; it’s gonna be okay’, except it wasn’t wordless, and he felt Wesley’s hot breath on his neck as he murmured for him not to worry, that he was always going to be there for him; anything he needed he would get, and he had emphasized the word ‘anything’ in a way that made Roy instantly stiffen.  The arms didn’t let go, and a hand began massaging his back, leaving him awkwardly trapped in the other man’s embrace. Suddenly feeling suffocated, and terribly uncomfortable, Roy shrugged out of Wesley’s embrace, thanking him embarrassedly for his quiet murmurings of support. For a moment, the two men had stood very close to each other, each staring into the other’s eyes. Roy tried to suppress his appalled look of surprise and confusion, while Wesley didn’t try to hide the look of desire and love burning in his own eyes. Backing away a step, Roy stammered out something about checking on his kids and quickly departed.

Wes watched him walk away; he was breathing heavily from the contact, and evidence of the overwhelming physical desire grew beneath his clothes, demanding to be relieved. Wes ducked into the men’s room to take care of it, easily satisfying the release he sought while fantasizing about him and Roy together. He walked out with a new sense of liberation and hope, happy that he’d finally been able to have some physical contact with the man he loved. The only problem was, after having had a small taste, now he wanted more.

Unnerved with the transaction that had just taken place between himself and Wesley, Roy strode quickly down the hall, anxious to get as far away from the man as possible. God, what had just happened? It almost felt like Wesley was…coming on to him. He shivered at that possibility, then discounted it, not wanting to believe that was what had happened. A troublesome feeling down deep inside of him was setting off a blaring alarm, screaming to be heard, but Roy suppressed it; now wasn’t the time to worry about his…partner. Ugh. The thought of what had just transpired suddenly left a bad taste in his mouth and he thought of Johnny, wishing he were here instead.

At one time, he would have called Johnny to take care of his kids; at one time, Johnny probably would have been breaking the door down at his house to check on his children, but lately their friendship had been sliding toward nonexistence. It had been a while since they’d spoken to each other. He didn’t even know where Johnny was. And here was Wesley, a man who was trying so hard to be his friend, but his instinct was to push him away. His emotions warred against each other, one side wanting to accept and be grateful for having a friend he could depend on, and the other side now telling him that the man disgusted him, that there was something wrong, and to stay away. Shaking his head to clear it, Roy headed toward Brackett’s office, anxious to hold his children in his arms.

Wesley left with the squad, and Roy went to be with his children, and to wait for Doreen Adams to come pick them up.

 

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

The bed he was laying in was really uncomfortable. Johnny tried to change his position, but it seemed he could barely move. His alarm clock was ringing, and he thrust his hand toward the annoying object to shut it off, but his knuckles slammed into something hard along the way. Ow! He withdrew his hand, and drowsily tried to reach below his stomach to rearrange this terribly lumpy mattress that was digging into his middle.

Sluggishly, he felt around for the covers, and discovered there were none. Instead, he found that the surface he was lying on was hard and uneven. His fingers slowly sifted over sandy debris, then felt something sharp, almost like the head of a nail, and pulled back. What’re nails doin’ in my bed?

Something hard was pressing into the back of his neck, and he slid his hand up to move the offending object away, but it was stuck. What the hell? Johnny peeled his eyes open, and could see nothing. Dust invaded his nostrils, and his own coughing brought him to more awareness. The shrill alarm had faded, and was replaced with a pounding thud coming from inside his head. Ugh! He squinted his eyes closed as the pain swept across the back of his skull. When it subsided, he dared to blink. There was nothing to focus on. He was desperate to get on his side, but something was preventing him from moving. Gingerly, he felt around, trying to figure out the situation. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened, and figured he must be dreaming. His fingers touched a hard, smooth, plastic object, the one at the back of his neck, and as they explored the offending item, his brain finally registered what it was – a fireman’s helmet. Perplexed, he kept searching, his hands recognizing the feel of broken plaster and splintered wood. Sudden cognizance of his situation hit him. I’m in the Bank’s house. The ceiling fell on me. That’s my helmet behind me. And my head is killing me.

Johnny’s hand continued to explore, feeling around for some way to free himself. He had determined that he was buried in debris, but wasn’t sure how deep. It seemed like everything had fallen around him like Pixie sticks. He was able to move most parts of his body a little, but not more than a few inches. He lay there unmoving for the moment, thinking, trying to determine what his options were. His throbbing head made it difficult to evaluate the situation. The first rule of order was to determine how badly he was injured. Gingerly, he began wriggling his extremities, rotating his ankles, and trying his best to bend his joints. Other than what he thought were a lot of bruises, he seemed amazingly intact with the exception of his head, which made him stop and rest because it was hurting so bad. He closed his eyes as nausea began to build, and he focused on trying to breathe deep and slow. If I hadn’t had my helmet on, I would probably be dead right now. Whatever hit me hit me hard.

The chinstrap on the helmet was practically choking him as it rested tightly against his neck, and he wriggled his fingers upward and pulled on the strap, loosening it. Forcing himself to relax, he listened. It was totally quiet, save for an occasional crumbling sound when a piece of the house tumbled downward, or a soft creak here or there. Questions filled his mind: How deep am I buried? What time is it? Where is everyone? How long was I unconscious? How long will I have to wait before someone comes? And the scariest question was, What if there’s another aftershock?

He jerked awake. Did I fall asleep? His heart was racing. He decided he had to try to do something, but was afraid if he moved too much, it might make his situation worse, bringing everything down on him. Being crushed to death, alone, in a dark house wasn’t very appealing. Very carefully, he used his foot to try to push some of his entrapment away. He pushed lightly at first, then harder when nothing gave. Nothing happened. The debris was wedged tight. He tried with his other foot, and managed to push one of the pieces away a few inches. A moment later, he heard a groan, and a loud crash as something slid off the pile over top of him and fell to the floor. It hadn’t helped a bit; if anything, his imprisonment was even tighter. Next he tried with his hands. Not being able to maneuver both hands together in the same place, he had to use them separately to push with. The results were the same when he was only able to move the wreckage away slightly. The pile above him groaned, then gravity forced it to fall even lower. This wasn’t helping any. I better quit while I’m ahead.

Maybe yelling would help. It sure didn’t sound like anyone was around, but it didn’t hurt to try. Johnny was surprised at how weak his voice sounded when he attempted to call out. He knew it wouldn’t be loud enough for anyone to hear, and so he summoned up all his strength and yelled as loud as he could. “Heyyyy! Is anyone out there?”

Pain slammed into his skull, and he thought he would throw up for sure. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he lay gasping, nursing his head. He got no rewards for his effort, and decided not to try it again. If his head had to feel like it was exploding when he yelled, then at least he would wait until there was someone near by to hear it.

 

The night passed slowly. Johnny drifted in and out of sleep, waiting for the morning, so that he might be able to see his surroundings better. He was terribly uncomfortable, and as time went by, his hopes plummeted. It became apparent that no one might show up for quite a long time. Trying to distract himself, he imagined what might be going on in the city right now; if the earthquake was a bad one, and it certainly seemed like it had been, firefighters and rescue personnel would be stretched thin. If they thought the house was empty, there would be no reason to come check it. His only hope was that Heather and her family would come back soon to look for the dog. The dog. The stupid dog. No, the dog wasn’t stupid, he was stupid for taking the chance in reentering the house after a freakin’ earthquake. Maybe the guys were right. Maybe he was reckless. That certainly was a bad decision he had made. If the Cap had been there, he probably wouldn’t have allowed him to go back in. So, why had he?

A crackling noise startled him awake, and Johnny strained to hear. Just more debris falling, he surmised, closing his eyes again. The headache was a little better now, but he was still uncomfortable. Shifting his body slightly, he moved his weight slightly to the other side, in order to relieve the pressure on his one side. His arm began tingling; the sensation moved all the way down to his fingertips. He tried wriggling them to restore circulation.

It was still dark. God, would the morning never come? His thoughts wandered back to the earthquake, and he began to think about the people he knew. He wondered if the station had sustained any damage. Or, what about the guys he worked with? What about Roy and Joanne and their kids? They lived far enough away from here that Johnny hoped they hadn’t suffered the impact that the Banks had. A sudden thought made him feel ill. His aunt. What about her? Abington Manor was very close to here; what kind of damage might it have sustained? I’ve got to get out of here and check on her. She’s all alone; well, I guess there’s the nursing home staff, but she’d be scared, I know she would. Damn! With new resolve, Johnny struggled against his prison. Tired of waiting, he began kicking more fiercely at the debris, not caring what would happen any more. He was desperate to get out.

The pile began to give, and he kept working at it, hoping to free himself. He could hear some of the pieces falling away, and he was able to kick his foot out through a hole. Just as he pulled it back in, he heard a sickening sound; a loud splintering noise tore through the room and the pile began slipping, falling in on him further. Struggling to get his arms up over his head, he curled up slightly as the pieces collapsed downward, pinning him motionless. A heavy board landed on his side, the weight driving the breath from him. The wreckage continued sliding for a moment, then stopped.

Gasping in pain at the fresh bruises that had just been inflicted, Johnny remained as still as he could, in an effort not to bring down any more of it on himself. Disheartened and defeated, he could do nothing now except lay in the last position he’d been able to attain, this time, unable to readjust.

 

His eyes snapped open at a sound, and he realized he’d fallen asleep. There it was again; that crackling noise. No, it was more like a clicking noise. What was it? His brain felt muddy and it was hard to think, but one thing he realized was that it was lighter. Faint outlines of his jail were now visible and he saw more clearly what it was that was holding him captive. Just as he suspected, a barrage of wood, plaster and metal, all piled up together around him. Beams of dim light sneaked through small openings, but not enough for him to see out into the room.

He suddenly became aware of another pressing problem; he needed to go to the bathroom. He’d been there all night, and had miraculously managed to hold it in all that time. His recent bladder surgery was being strained to the max, and he was in legitimate pain. God, he didn’t want to pee his pants and have anyone find him like that. There had to be a way to relieve himself, because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold it much longer. Fortunately, one of his arms was pinned fairly close to his stomach, and so he worked his fingers down to his zipper. It took him five minutes to pull the button open and get the zipper down on his jeans, but finally he succeeded, and was able to relieve himself. He tried to direct it as far away from himself as possible, disgusted at the thought of having to lay in his own urine for God knew how long. When he was done, he struggled to shove his exposed private part back inside his pants, and get them zipped back up before anybody found him. He needn’t have worried, that wouldn’t happen for some time.

A suppressed laugh rose out of him as he considered what Troy would think of him taking a leak on his family’s expensive marble foyer floor. Then the thought of what Art would think sobered him immediately, which led to worry about his condition. Art had almost died last night; Johnny hoped he’d made it. If he ever got out of there, maybe he’d find out.

A short bark from a dog snapped him out of his reverie, and he heard what sounded like clawing near by. “Puffer? Buddy?” he tried to call out. What the hell was the dog’s name again? His brain wouldn’t remember. “Muffin?” Was that it? Muffy? Oh, jeez, what’s the damn dog’s name? “Buffy!” It came to him, and the dog barked when she heard her name. “Buffy!” he called out again, the action of raising his voice made his head pound again. He listened hard; the dog was definitely scratching at something near by. God, don’t let that damn dog knock more of this stuff on top of me. He debated whether he should continue to call the dog. Now she decides to come looking. Why didn’t she come to me last night when I called her?

The dog continued to scrabble at the pile enveloping Johnny, and he continued calling out to her. Why the hell am I even calling the mutt? It’s not like she can dig me out or anything. But he knew why deep down; this dog was the only contact he had with anything alive; if she left, he would be alone again, maybe left to rot and die under this mountain of rubble. Any companionship right now, no matter how small, was welcome, and so he continued talking to the dog.

After awhile, Johnny became aware of some new sounds. A big vehicle of some type had just driven down the road and stopped, brakes squealing. Simultaneously, he heard sirens in the distance, and more vehicles. His heart lifted. Oh, thank God, they’re back.  Maybe someone will find me. He strained to hear where they were, and how close. Familiar sounds filtered in through the entrapment, and he recognized the sounds of fire equipment. They must have come to fight a fire somewhere near by. Doors were slamming, and he could barely make out the sound of urgent voices mingled with those coming over their radios. After a while, humming diesel engines and the spray of the hoses drowned out the human voices. He heard the recognizable whir of the bucket on the ladder truck being raised, and wondered at the size of the blaze. He tried calling out again, which set the dog off barking, but his weak voice amongst all that noise outside was never heard. He began to despair once more.

Two hours went by, and Johnny kept listening for an opportunity to scream out when he thought he might be heard. Frustrated, he finally yelled out, “Can anybody hear me?! I need help! Can somebody please come help me!”

Buffy began barking in earnest, and Johnny could hear her growing excitement.

“Ah, Buff, pipe down, will ya? You’re giving me a worse headache.” Screaming at the top of his lungs had made his head throb mercilessly.

Buffy kept barking, and she sounded like she was circling.

What is she so excited about? “Buffy?….” He had an idea. “Buffy. Go get me some help.” The dog jumped around in excitement. “Go on, girl, go get help! GET HELP!” he yelled at the dog.

Buffy barked as loudly as such a little dog could bark, then Johnny heard her take off.

“Buffy?” He waited. She was gone. He sighed. Great. She either went to get help, or she got tired of listening to me.

A half hour went by, and Buffy didn’t return. Johnny was so despaired he felt like crying. The sounds of the fire crew outside were diminishing. He had heard at least one truck leave, and he caught the sounds of hoses being reeled up. Lying there, pinned to the floor, alone, he began to think about dying. I’m gonna die here. No one’s gonna know I’m here, and I’m gonna be stuck here until I croak. How long can I live without water? About three or four days maybe? He thought about what he was going to have to go through, and how slow it would be. First dehydration, then my organs will start to shut down, then coma, then…he swallowed, not wanting to think about what it would be like to die.

He groaned in hopelessness, and decided to try one last time. As loud as he could possibly muster, he screamed, “Hey! Can anybody hear me?!”

An excited bark came as a response. For some reason, he felt a little relief. At least Buffy’s back. Sure his mind was playing tricks on him, he tried to shrug off the other noises he was hearing – but the sounds of footsteps were unmistakable. Someone was coming!

“Hello?” He heard an unknown voice call. “Anybody here?”

“Here!” he yelled. “I’m in here!” His heart soared to hear a human voice actually responding to his own.

Buffy’s bark grew more frantic and also closer.

“Keep talking,” the voice ordered. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the foyer, I think…under this pile of rubble!”

A second later, Buffy’s bark was right outside of the wreckage he was under, and he heard the voice right next to him.

“You under there?”

“Yeah, I’m here!” His speech broke with relief, and the voice returned.

“Okay, take it easy. I’ll get some help to get you out, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“N-no, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Hang in there!”

Johnny heard the footsteps retreat, and soon they were back with a couple more sets of footsteps. Thank God, he was finally going to be rescued. Though he was extremely uncomfortable, just knowing it wouldn’t be much longer was more comforting than he had imagined. Now he understood how so many others felt that he had rescued in the past; he’d always been on the other side of it. This time, he’d been the one needing rescuing, the one who had had to wait and despair, at the mercy of others, wondering if he would come out alive, or if he’d die encased in his tomb. There had really been only one other time that he could remember that something like this had happened to him, where he had been trapped, and it was the time he had been under the ground in a mine with two injured men, having accessed it by being lowered down a ventilation pipe. They’d had a cave-in shortly after he’d descended the hole, and for a while, he couldn’t even find his handi-talki. He remembered vividly digging through that dirt with a barely controlled desperation to find his communication device, wondering all the while how much air they would have, and how long it might last.  For the other man’s sake, he’d had to remain cool and level-headed, but inside he remembered being silently terrified of a possible death by slow suffocation. He snorted as it occurred to him that Chet had neglected to mention that time in his laundry list of accidents Gage had endured at the spaghetti dinner.

Now that he knew he would be all right, he stopped to reflect on how this experience might be of a benefit when trying to calm others in a similar situation, since he now knew exactly what it felt like, but then he remembered that he’d given up his career, and wouldn’t get the chance to relate to a future victim.

 

A half hour later, a grimy face smiled down at him as a large sheet of plaster was lifted off his body. “Hey, there.” The fireman’s white teeth were a sharp contrast against his soot-smeared face. “Hang on another second, and we’ll have you out of there.”

Johnny had never been so glad to see someone in all his life. As the pieces were lifted off him, he experimentally flexed his limbs, groaning at the stiffness he’d endured. Another firefighter had joined the first one, and helped him lift the debris away from Johnny’s body. The first one’s eyes widened in surprise to see the man he’d rescued wearing a turnout coat, and a fireman’s helmet laying cockeyed across the back of the man’s neck. “Stephens. That your name?” He’d read the name on the back of the turnout.

Johnny rolled gingerly onto his back, groaning against his attempt to sit up. “No,” he said, teeth gritted. “It’s Gage, John Gage.” Johnny saw the confusion on the man’s face. “I borrowed the turnout from eight’s. I work at fifty-ones,” he lied. Worked, he corrected himself.

“Hmm,” the man decided not to ask too many questions, concentrating instead on his concern for his victim. “Well I’m Jerry, and this is Tom; and if you make one joke about our names, I’ll break your arm,” he teased.

Johnny glanced up at him, not really getting the joke. Instead, he worked on pushing himself upward.

“Hold on, now. Take it easy; you don’t want to move around a lot until one of our paramedics checks you out.”

Johnny held his hand up. “It’s okay. I’m a paramedic too. I’m…” he grimaced as he slowly rose to a sitting position, “…fine.”

The firemen exchanged skeptical glances. “How long you been under here?”

Johnny rubbed gingerly at the back of his head, which had started pounding fiercely again now that he was sitting up. “Since last night, I think.” He looked at his watch. It was nearly noon.

“Since the quake first hit, eh?” The man continued to scrutinize Johnny, and noted his pale color, reaching out to Johnny’s chin in order to move his head. “You hit your head?”

Johnny pulled away quickly. “No, I’m…just really stiff from laying here, you know?”

“I imagine. Now, let’s get you checked over. You hurt anywhere?”

Suddenly, Johnny was overwhelmed with the desire to leave. “No, no, really, I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” He continued flexing, preparing to stand, his bruised muscles screaming at the torture.

“Man, you’re lucky we found you; we were getting ready to leave. If it hadn’t have been for this little dog here…she yours?”

Johnny reached out and patted Buffy’s head, smiling. “No. My girlfriend’s mother’s. She’s the reason I was in here – trying to rescue her.”

“Looks like she rescued you instead,” he chuckled.

Johnny shook his head at the irony of it. “I guess she did.” With that, he slowly tried to get up on his feet. It was agonizing, as long as he’d lain there pinned in one position, and he teetered as he stood, while Jerry reached under his arm to help pull him up.

The second fireman reached out to steady him. “Let’s get you out to the paramedics.”

“Huh? No!” he said a bit too forcefully. “No, I-I’m fine, really. I’ve got to get out of here and…and check on my family.” He tried his very best to convince the two men that he was perfectly okay. It took everything he could muster just to be able to stand without swaying or squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

“We’ll see about that. Let’s get you out of here.”

Johnny couldn’t argue with that. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this place, and was determined that once outside, they weren’t going to hold him.

His stubbornness won out, and he was able to convince Tom and Jerry that they needed to concentrate on the real injured people, and save the ambulances for them. Assuring them that as a paramedic himself, he knew the warning signs to look for with any type of injury, and promised he would get checked out by his family doctor. One look around in any direction convinced the two other men that their services were in desperate need, and reluctantly, they let him go.

Johnny scooped up Buffy and set her in the back of his Rover. Fishing his key out of his pocket, he wriggled out of the turnout coat and tossed both it and the helmet into the back seat along with the dog. Struggling, he had to work to fit the key into the ignition, as his vision wavered for a moment, and his hand felt clumsy. A few seconds later, he pulled away from the Banks’ house, his apprehension and anxiety building as he headed toward Abington Manor.

Ten minutes later, he approached the parking lot, his shoulders tensing as he got nearer. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw. As the implications of the devastation before him sunk in, his foot slipped off the accelerator and he coasted for several seconds, while holding in a sharp intake of air, in disbelief. Oh no. No.

He stared at the complex, or what had once been a very large senior care facility. Various walls were still standing, and in places even some of the roof was intact, but most of what had been Abington Manor had collapsed into a mountain of rubble. Piles of broken bricks, shards of glass and miscellaneous pieces of the building were scattered about on the pristine grounds as if a tornado had blasted through the area. Red and blue flashing lights bounced off the wreckage, and Johnny saw an ambulance pulling away as he slowly coasted closer. Heart pounding, barely able to breathe, he stopped the Rover in a cockeyed position and stumbled out, heading toward what looked like a scene of utter chaos.

He gawked at the buildings in shock, knowing the implications, but not wanting to acknowledge them. People were scattered about, some patients in wheelchairs, others wandering aimlessly, and Johnny saw only one rescue crew. A few people were crying, their faces in their hands, and he spotted a place on the ground with several telltale shapes draped with white sheets. Dread welled up in him, and he quickened his pace, his eyes darting around the area looking for her. Five minutes went by without finding her, and for a moment he stood motionless, the shock and despair soaking into him. He flinched when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you looking for someone?” A kindly fifty-something woman looked up at him through watery hazel eyes. He recognized her as one of the women that worked at the facility.

He turned and gave her a desperate look. It took a moment to find his voice. “Yes. I – I’m looking for my aunt.”

“What’s her name, dear?” The woman’s face held nothing but compassion.

“Rose. Rose Evans. You…you work here, don’t you?”

She smiled sympathetically. “Yes. My name is Ruth Bennett. I know your aunt; she’s rather new here, isn’t she?”

The fact that she wasn’t referring to his aunt in the past tense offered a little reassurance, and Johnny relaxed a bit. “Yes, I…she came here just a few months ago.”

“Of course. She’s a lovely woman; and…what is your name?”

“John Gage.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Come with me, all right?”

She slid her arm through his and gently escorted him away from the broken building to a picnic table situated under a shaded tree. A man was sitting there worriedly pouring over a list on a clipboard.

“George?” The man looked up. “This is Mr. Gage. He’s here to find out about his aunt. Do we…know anything yet about Mrs. Rose Evans?”

The elderly balding man smiled kindly up at Johnny. “Mr. Gage, why don’t you sit down here? I have a list of….of the residents who’ve been taken to the hospital. I also have a list…unfortunately…of those we know who’ve been lost in the earthquake. Just let me check for you….now, we haven’t been able to account for everyone yet, you understand…the rescue men are still finding residents who’ve been trapped in the building….it’s just a terrible tragedy…” The man pushed his glasses up over the bump on the bridge of his nose and began searching his list, his fingers fluttering over the pages. It seemed to take forever; he went through one list, not finding her name, then on to the next.

Ruth Bennett never let go of his arm, even after the two of them sat down together at the picnic table. Johnny sat tensely, almost willing the man not to find her name on any of the lists. Finally, George stopped, his finger resting next to a particular name on a list, and he squinted his eyes, looking closer as if to make sure he’d read the name right. Then, his shoulders seemed to slump a bit, and he swallowed, looking up at Johnny over the top of his spectacles. “Mr. Gage, I…I’m….terribly sorry…”

Johnny’s eyes grew wide and he minutely moved his head from side to side once, waiting for the man to continue. “What is it….what did you find?” He could barely find his voice to ask.

George took in a deep breath. “Mr. Gage, I’m so very sorry; Mrs. Evans did not survive…the earthquake…she was one of the first ones found….unfortunately she was in the west wing of the building….which was destroyed….I’m terribly sorry…”

Stunned, Johnny quickly turned away from the man; bile slowly rose in his throat as a wave of dizziness slipped over him. He stared out across the grounds at the rows of daffodils that had recently bloomed, untouched by the devastation. His whole body stiffened, and he forced himself to feel numb, wanting to avoid at all costs the feeling of loss that he knew would overtake him any second. She can’t be gone. She can’t.  Practically paralyzed, he sat rigidly, his breath coming in short, shallow intakes.

Ruth scrutinized him sadly, having witnessed this same scenario already more than a dozen times today. All she could do was to try to be as supportive as possible, and for her own emotional health, not get too involved. As it was, she was going to be a wreck by the end of the day.  She simply sat with him; he was unaware of her rubbing his back with one hand, and holding his hand with the other. Finally, she almost whispered, “I know it’s a shock, dear. None of us…can believe it. If there’s anything any of us can do…”

Slowly, his eyes focused on her face. “Thank you,” he choked out. There were a million questions he knew he should ask, but was unable to think of any of them at the moment, except one. “Where….where is she?” he finally managed.

George answered. “She was taken to the city morgue this morning. Abington Manor is asking for all relatives of….the deceased to stop there, in order to identify…their loved ones.” It was obvious that George was having a difficult time as well.

Johnny closed his eyes momentarily, until he felt Ruth squeeze his arm. “Mr. Gage, I know this is a terribly difficult time for you, but I want to let you know that we’ve already been in contact with Edinger Funeral Home, and they are helping to handle all the arrangements for the residents here at the Manor that have passed away. If you can stop by there, they’ll help you make all the final plans for your aunt. Are you… familiar with them?”

Johnny nodded, suddenly possessed with a frantic need to leave. He stood up.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like…and talk,” Ruth offered.

He shook his head. “Thank you, but I…I’ve got to be going.”

She took his hand in hers once more. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Gage. Your aunt, Rose, was a fine woman; I could tell, even though I only knew her a few months.”

He smiled joylessly at her. “Yes, she was.” He turned to leave.

“You let us know if there’s anything you need.”

“Thank you; I will.” Mechanically, he walked away, heading toward his car. Feeling dazed, he’d just reached his Rover, when he felt faint, and reached out quickly as the green trees around him began to blur. Putting his palms on the hood of his car, he stood hunched over, hanging his head, concentrating on taking deep breaths. When his mind had cleared, he slowly pulled open the door and sank into his seat. He let the numbness wash over him, sitting limply for a long time, forcing the wall up around his emotions.

After an unknown period of time, his hand inserted the key into the ignition once again, seemingly on its own accord, and automatically the Rover navigated itself out of the parking lot. As if on autopilot, Johnny drove to another place, a place he didn’t want to go, but he had to know.

Because of the damage to the streets, it took much longer than usual to get there, and he had to take a couple of detours due to road closings. A little while later, he found himself parked in front of Sunnyside Estates, gazing up in disbelief at the old building which still stood proud and erect, unscathed by the earthquake. Then the wall came down. His face went into his hands, and tears built up behind his closed eyelids, while his forehead lowered to the steering wheel. It was my fault. I killed her.

 

Part 9