By Ross

Firefighter P.M. John Gage poked his head into Station 51’s rec’ and dining area. "Anybody seen my Sign book?" he asked his shift-mates. His darting eyes made a rapid reconnoiter of both rooms. His already gloomy expression darkened. "Where-is-my-Sign-book?" he re-inquired, speaking through tightly clenched teeth.

His partner, Roy DeSoto, set down his own book to take a look.

The guys on the Engine crew stopped what they were doing and lent all eight of their eyes to the search, as well.

Chet Kelly spotted a corner of the book sticking out from under the Station’s mascot, Henry. "Got it!"

The Basset Hound was in his usual pose—sprawled across two of their leather sofa’s three cushions—and sleeping soundly.

Kelly crossed over to the couch, latched onto the book’s corner and began tugging.

Gage panicked. "Careful, Chet!" he chastised. "That’s only borrowed!"

Henry let out a low growl and reluctantly raised his rump up just enough for Kelly to pull the opened book out.

Chet gave the complaining canine a couple snarls of his own. "Cool it…yah lazy bum!" he admonished. Then he turned his back on the still-grumbling mutt and addressed the slightly peeved, yet somewhat relieved, looking paramedic. "Sheesh, Gage! You’ve had your nose buried in this book for the past two weeks…and you’re only on page twe-elve?"

John snatched the slightly bent book from his hands.

Chet exchanged ‘looks’ with the rest of the guys and a mischievous sparkle filled his eyes. "I would a’ thought you’d pick up on this stuff a lot faster than that! After all, ‘sign’ language should come natural to…you people."

The rest of the guys grinned.

Gage remained slightly peeved. He placed the book in his left armpit, so he would have both hands free to sign and sign he did—with a flourish!

Kelly, who was unaccustomed to being so silently told off, arched an eyebrow and feigned indignance. "Oh yeah? I dare yah to sign that again!"

The guys’ grins broadened.

The paramedic signed it again and then stood there, looking tremendously pleased with himself.

"Oh yea-eah?" Kelly repeated, still at a loss for words at the loss of words. "Well…take this!" He placed his right thumb on the tip of his nose, made a face at Gage, and wriggled his fingers.

Chet’s 'razzberry' reply caused the rest of the guys to chuckle.

Even John was forced to smile.

The Station’s alarm sounded.

The firemen’s faces sobered.

"Squad 51—"

The Engine crew untensed.

Mike Stoker and Marco Lopez went back to setting the table.

Gage tossed his Sign book onto a chair. Then he and his partner headed for the garage—with their Captain.

"Child bitten by a dog—"

Kelly stared down at the discarded book for a few moments. Suddenly, a rather devious look came over him. "THEY say: Fight fire with fire!" he mumbled to himself, and snatched the dropped book back up. He sank down onto the sofa beside the dozing dog and began flipping through the pages.

****************************************************************

"How’s the kid?" Hank Stanley asked an hour later, as the paramedics re-entered the rec’ room.

"Fine," Roy reassured him. "Got nipped in the butt, but it didn’t break the skin."

"Yah know," John joined in, "she probably stepped on the poor pooch.  That dog was so gentle, it wouldn’t hurt a flea in self—"

"—Hey, Johnny?" Kelly suddenly called out. He glanced up from the Sign book he’d been studying so diligently and was pleased to see he had the paramedic’s undivided attention. Chet carefully motioned with his hands, conveying something in ‘sign’ language.

Johnny first looked confused…then thoughtful…then amused—most amused. In fact, he started to laugh.

Chet stared at his chuckling chum in confusion. "What’d I say?"

The paramedic completely ignored the question. He simply picked up a plate and started heading for the stove, snickering all the while.

Kelly began paging frantically through the book in his lap, looking positively shattered.

"What’d I say?" he demanded.

Johnny just laughed all the more.

"What’d I say?" the Irishman implored for a third time, but was drowned out by the klaxons.

"Squad 51, in place of Squad 16—"

The paramedic team set their empty plates down and raced from the room—their Captain in close pursuit.

"Woman down…unknown cause—"

Chet slammed the Sign book shut and gasped in frustration.

************************************************************************

Less than an hour later, Roy backed Squad 51 into an empty garage.

The pair exited their vehicle and crossed over to the Call Station to examine the logbook.

"Structure fire over on the 1200 block of Sheridan," John read aloud. "Isn’t that where all those new apartment complexes are going up?"

"Supposed to be going up," Roy corrected. "THEY haven’t started construction, yet."

His partner appeared puzzled. "If there’s nothin’ there, then what’s burning?"

DeSoto sniffed the air. "Our dinner—judging by the smell!"

The firemen went racing back into the dining and rec’ area and right up to the stove.

Roy turned the heat off.

John jerked the oven door open and a thin haze of smoke came wafting out.

The pair stood there, staring down at what was left of an extremely well done casserole dish…of some sort.

The Engine crew had kindly kept their dinner warm for them…a little too warm.

Roy frowned and turned to his partner. "Just how hungry are you?"

"I’m pretty famished," John informed his frowning friend, "but I ain’t sure I’m that hungry…" he added and pointed at their dried out dinner. "What is—er, was it, anyway?"

Roy studied the noodle dish? carefully. "Some sort of casserole…tuna…I think…yeah…tuna."

Gage gazed at DeSoto, looking duly impressed. "You can tell…just by looking at the remains?"

His friend’s frown turned upside-down. "You gonna try it?"

"Are you?" John asked right back.

DeSoto looked thoughtful. "Well, it’s bound to be a bit crunchy…but other than that…"

Gage grabbed a pair of oven mitts and reluctantly retrieved the ‘remains’ of their dinner.

They sawed themselves off a couple of servings of extra-crispy casserole. Then they plunked their plates down on the table and plopped their bottoms down onto some chairs.

"By the way," Roy began, but then paused to pick up his fork, "what did Chet say?"

John managed an amused snort. "How should I know?" he wondered with a wry grin. "I’m only on page twe-elve."

A look of dawning understanding came over DeSoto. "You can be incredibly cruel, you know that?"

"Yeah. I also know that this is gonna drive Chester B. positively bananas!" Gage gleefully tacked on and sat there…gloating.

Roy’s enlightened look was suddenly replaced by one of dread. "Have you thought this through?"

"What d’yah mean?"

"I mea-ean, this could backfire! By driving Chet positively bananas, you could end up driving the rest of us crazy, too!"

"Oh-oh lighten up. I don’t often get the upper hand with Chet. Just let me enjoy it for awhile."

They heard the garage door start grinding open.

Stoker backed Big Red in. The washroom door banged a few times and it was quiet again.

The casserole finally cooled and John finally succeeded in breaking a charred chunk of it off. He popped a forkful of petrified pasta into his mouth and made a valiant attempt to chew it. "It is just a tad bit crunchy," he confessed.

DeSoto grinned at Gage’s understatement and finally managed to get a mouthful of the chewy stuff swallowed himself. "But warm...at least it's warm."

Chet came scurrying into the room and up to the grinning diners. "Ga-age, c'mon...yah gotta tell me!"

Ga-age glanced innocently up from his plate. "What?"

"Don’t be cute!" Kelly warned. "Just tell me what I said!"

"Oh…yeah." John suddenly feigned confusion. "Don’t you know?" he asked in amazement.

Kelly grimaced and gasped in frustration. "I know what I was trying to say, but I don’t know what you think I said!"

"Oh yeah?" John looked even more thoughtful. "Well, what were you trying to say?"

Roy pursed his lips, gritted his teeth, and avoided his cruel partner’s gaze.

Chet stomped his foot and gasped again, this time, in complete exasperation. "WHAT‘D I SAY?"

The Station’s tones sounded.

"Squad 51—"

The two paramedics glanced at their plates…and then at each other. Their shoulders sagged.

"Man down…possible heart attack—"

"What’d I say?" Kelly pleaded, as the pair pushed their chairs back and began getting to their feet.

Gage gave his inquisitor an annoyed glare—along with his fork. "I wish you’d stop asking that."

DeSoto passed Chet their plates—along with some sound advice. "Whatever you do, do not keep this warm for us."

Kelly watched the pair depart and then gazed glumly down at the dinnerware in his hands. "I just wanna know what I said…" he pouted, sounding rather pitiful.

**********************************************************************

Four long hours—and five back-to-back runs later—Gage and DeSoto finally returned to their Fire Station.

The pair dragged themselves out of their Rescue Squad and into the dorm.

They managed to get the bottom halves of their turnouts all set up, without disturbing their sleeping shift-mates.

DeSoto was about to pull his covers back and crawl into bed, when he noticed his partner pulling on his bunker pants. "Where are you going?" he wondered in a whisper.

"To raid the refrigerator," his famished friend informed him—also in a whisper. A cup of coffee and a doughnut, gulped down in the Doctor’s Lounge between runs, had kept his low blood sugar headache at bay, but the hunger pains were now severe enough to deny him any chance of sleep.

Roy could feel his own empty tummy rumbling. "I think I’ll join your raiding party."

John waited for his witty companion to pull on his bunkers and then the two of them started heading for the kitchen.

"Hey, Gage…" Kelly quietly called out.

Gage ground to a halt and turned in the ‘not the least bit sleepy sounding’ voice’s direction.

Chester B. was sitting bolt upright in his bunk and looking surprisingly wide-awake. "What’d I say?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

Also for the umpteenth time, the Station’s tones sounded.

"Squad 51—" the dispatcher began.

And it was the paramedic’s turn to pout. John winced, as the dorm's overhead lights came on, and then started whining. "Ahhh-ahhh na-ahhh…Not agai-ain!"

"Child having difficulty breathing—"

"We got it, Cap’!" DeSoto assured their groggy Superior.

"Thanks!" Hank sleepily said as the two of them trotted past his bed on their way to the parking bay. He gave the light switch another flip and the dorm was plunged back into darkness.

***************************************************************

DeSoto stepped up to the Call Station.

‘Roy was right,’ John silently realized as he climbed wearily back into their Rescue Squad. The prank had come back and bit him in the butt. ‘Oh well…’ the fireman rationalized further, and was forced to grin, ‘at least it didn’t break the skin.’ 

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October Picture 2008              Stories by Ross