Snakebitten

By Wee2E!s

(E51Writer & Julie H.)

The guys of Station 51 were looking forward to their 3-day weekend. It wasn’t often that the rotation allowed them a Friday, Saturday, AND Sunday off. Sitting around the table, they were all watching the clock, awaiting the arrival of B-Shift.

“I can’t believe that I agreed to do this again. You guys are going to have to take me to Rampart on the way back into town. I need to have my head examined.” Chet was shaking his head.

“No one begged you to go, Chet. Just stay home. Roy and I will go. In fact, we’ll be happy to go without you if you’re just gonna whine the whole time. Right, Roy?”

Roy looked first at Johnny, then at Chet, and pushed back from the table. Here we go again. I can’t believe I agreed to do this again! “Anyone want some more coffee?”

Mike laughed. “Sure hate to miss out on all the fun.”

“Lighten up, Gage. I’m just thinking that maybe we should go somewhere else other than fishing.”

“Like where, Chet? Just stay home if that’s what you want. I, for one, want to go fishing. Can’t wait to fill the cooler with nice, fresh fish.”

Mike, who had just taken a drink, blew coffee across the table as he laughed at Johnny’s last statement. His apology to Marco for the coffee shower he had just bestowed was cut short by Cap.

“I don’t want to hear about fish!” Cap stood up and paced around the kitchen. “I don’t want any of them here. Just leave them at home. I won’t have the fish here. Keep ‘em away.”

“Cap, settle down. It’s not like you have anything to worry about. Remember the last time we went fishing? I’m sure this trip will end the same way.” Chet was still shaking his head.

“Dios Mio, let’s hope not!” Marco’s comments sent the men into quiet contemplation.

Johnny was the first one to speak. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.”

“Yeah, Gage, even I have to admit that I was scared on that one.” Chet was remembering the scene all too vividly. They’d just come back from their weekend trip, which ended with a bad accident that they ended up taking care of. Then they came straight to work the following morning. That’s when Johnny had been bitten by a rattler, and they had to bring him up the hill on the tractor, riding to Rampart on the back of the engine.

“That was a tough one. I felt so hopeless.” Roy’s comments were followed by silence, as everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Roy spoke again. “I still feel bad about that one. All I could do was stand there and listen to the transmissions while you treated yourself, Johnny, and the guys brought you in.”

“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” Johnny was brought back from his thoughts.

“The snakebite, Gage! What the hell do you think we’ve been talking about? This is gonna be a long weekend – I can tell already.” Chet was STILL shaking his head.

“The snakebite? Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” Johnny looked at Chet.

“What the hell are YOU talking about, Gage?”

“The accident.”

“The kids? They weren’t hurt bad. You were the one in bad shape.” Cap smiled at his paramedic still amazed at Johnny’s ability to always put thoughts of others before thinking of himself.

“What? What are you talking about, Cap? We damn near lost the little boy. And, his mom for that matter.”

“Oh, the accident on the way back home from fishing. Now, we’re with you, Junior.” Roy cleared up the last ten minutes of discussion for everyone.

B-Shift started to roll in.

“Okay, lucky dogs, we’re here. You’re free.” Bill Grady, B-Shift’s engineer, knew A-Shift was anxious to start their long weekend.

As the guys from A-Shift were heading toward the door, Captain Hodges walked into the dayroom. “Hey Gage, DeSoto, and Kelly, rumor has it you’re going fishing. Be sure to save some for us.”

Cap pushed through the group, waving his arms. “No fish. I don’t want to see any fish. Don’t bring them around me …”

The group broke into laughter. Captain Hodges just looked confused.

From a distance, they heard Cap yell one more thing. “And, for God’s sake, BE CAREFUL!”

(Three days later)

“I told you Cap would have nothing to worry about.”

“Just shut up, Chet.”

“If this is the typical Gage fishing trip – and apparently it is – this is my last one, Gage.”

“Good, Chet. And I’m gonna hold you to that statement, too. Ain’t that right, Roy? We’ll just come by ourselves next time.”

“More power to you, Roy. You’re a better man than I am if you can put up with another one of these trips.” Chet was smiling as he spoke, already thinking of how much fun it was going to be telling the rest of the guys about this trip.

“Johnny, Chet, stop it. We didn’t catch any fish…”

“AGAIN!”

“Chet!” Roy’s smile belied the stern tone of his voice. “We didn’t catch any fish but we had a good time. We got away for a few days…”

“We did have a good time, didn’t we?” It was Johnny’s turn to interrupt his best friend mid-sentence.

“You two are just alike.” Roy laughed.

“WHAT?” Both Johnny and Chet yelled at the same time.

All three men laughed this time.

The happy mood was broken as Johnny let out a terrified scream. “SHIT!”

Roy and Chet glanced at Johnny and then looked out the front window of the Rover. In a split second, terror gripped them as well.

The dark green Sedan jerked from one side of the road to the other – its driver seeming to fight an unknown demon for control of the steering wheel.

Edging its way closer and closer towards the Land Rover approaching from the opposite lane, it was hard to tell exactly which lane the car was actually going to be in when it hopefully passed Johnny and his passengers.

Johnny swerved his vehicle towards the left, hoping to get out of the oncoming car’s way, but the Sedan began heading back into it’s own lane, making John Gage cut the wheel and return to his side of the road.

Just as the three vacationers were about to exhale the breath they’d held simultaneously, the sedan jerked violently in front of them, crashing into the Land Rover head on.

The sound of tires screeching as Johnny slammed his foot on the brake was instantly drowned out by the sickening sound of metal crashing against metal. The vehicles engines seemed to cry out in pain as they suddenly stopped; belts screaming as they snapped apart, and glass crunched as it began to shatter endlessly all around, flying freely as it broke from its restraints.

The two vehicles suddenly combined as one, merging into one another like freight trains on the same track. The glass windshield from the Sedan exploded with the impact, as did the Land Rovers, shooting like crystal bullets towards one another. Steam immediately began rising from the Sedan, its radiator cracked easily from the Land Rover’s grill.

When the dust began to settle and the rain of broken glass was done, anyone who’d look at the scene would swear no one could have survived it.

Johnny moaned as the sound of a car horn brought him into reality. He awoke to unbearable pain radiating from his head to his legs, making awareness something he’d rather not deal with. But that damned noise was aggravating – he thought that whoever was laying on that car horn had better have a pretty good excuse for waking him up like this.

He began trying to open his eyes, but they stung from the brightness of the noon sun’s assault and the blood that trailed its way beside them – his own sweat mixing with it as it eked into the corners of his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he tried to focus, but everything was blurred. He had no way of knowing his own blood was obscuring his vision. Blinking several more times, his eyes began to focus.

Seeing the crumpled green car in front of him, flashes of the accident began coming to him for only seconds at a time. He remembered arguing with Chet. Remembered Roy trying to stay neutral. And grinned as he remembered all of them laughing, though he couldn’t remember what had caused their laughter.

Then he remembered seeing the car coming at them. The same car that sat mangled in front of him now, looking so close that he thought if he reached out far enough, he could touch it. Touch it? Where was the windshield?

Oh no. Oh no! The guys were in the Land Rover! His thoughts jumbled as they intertwined with the pain that was screaming within.

Easing himself back from the steering wheel, he gladly noticed the car horn stopped, realizing slowly it was his own weight causing it to sound.

Now the silence was as deafening as the constant noise had been.

The ringing in John’s ears combined with the pain in his head made his eyes droop; his body begging for unconsciousness. But he fought it well. No, dammit, no! Stay awake. Stay focused. He said the words over and over in his mind, willing himself to inch back further into the seat. The pain was hotly intense, and he knew instantly he had a few broken ribs, probably from his impact with the steering wheel.

He tilted his head slightly, trying out his luck, hoping his head would move freely. Though stiff, he was able to make a slow, circular motion. Next he lifted his arms slowly, feeling the definite pain of a broken bone or bones, he couldn’t tell which, in his left arm.

“Roy?” his voice was faint – his throat dry as the word moaned between gritted teeth. He hissed as the breath he took to replace his last stung within his ribcage. Releasing it slowly, he spoke once more. “Roy? Chet? You guys okay?”

His eyes had remained closed until the silence that met him caused an alarm to go off in his mind. The dark eyes opened – the sting of fresh blood going unnoticed over the growing fear at not being answered. He had to see them. He had to help them.

Oblivious to his own pain, he turned himself towards the right, readying his mind to stay calm. No matter how much blood, no matter how broken his friends might look, he was there to help. He looked up towards the rear-view mirror, hoping to see Chet – hoping to see the breaths that he took and know he was alive, but his heart sank when he noticed the mirror was gone. Of course it, was, he thought, cursing himself. How could it be there when the whole windshield was blown?

His eyes closed as his body fought the movement he asked of it, unwilling to move itself the few inches needed to face Roy. But the strong will overcame the pain.

Opening his eyes, he looked towards Roy – but he wasn’t there.

“Roy!” No longer heeding to the pain, he forced his body to comply with his mind. Inching his lower torso from beneath its confines of the steering column, he half slid, half pulled himself into the passenger seat, all the while calling to his best friend.

He glanced towards the back seat, seeing the crumpled form of Chet Kelly. He called to him, and got the answer he expected – nothing. Reaching painfully towards him, he felt Chet’s neck, praying for a pulse. Gratefully, he found one, strong but erratic. When he pulled his hand back towards him, he gasped at the blood covering his finger tips. Fighting his body’s will to keep from moving, he leaned back to Chet, pulling the man’s hair away from his face. He feared the worst as memories of an accident not too long ago found them all at almost the same spot they had been in before - the accident where they’d found the little boy in the back seat, his carotid artery open and bleeding freely. He had to see where Chet was bleeding from.

If he could’ve taken the breath he wanted to, John Gage would have sighed in relief. Though he had no way of knowing what all injuries Chet had sustained, he could see from his vantage point that it was not the fireman’s neck that was bleeding, but a cut above his right eye that grazed down over his temple. Head wounds bled easily, and this one was no exception to the rule.

Believing that Chet was alright for the moment, he focused on finding Roy, fear rising like the bile in his belly.

He inched his way towards the passenger side door of his now demolished vehicle. The pain crept its way to almost unbearable limits, but he had to find Roy. He had to know he was alive. He knew if either of his friends died today, he’d never live past the grief and guilt that were already struggling to break his concentration.

Using his right hand, he grasped the door’s armrest and hefted himself up with many grunts and groans. The pain was so intense, his eyes clouded - his body threatening to shut down before enduring more aggravation to his wounds. But he fought it.

Peering out through the side window, he looked around at their desolate surroundings. He looked directly outside of the passenger door, figuring Roy had maybe opened it and was possibly was laying down beside their vehicle. When he didn’t see him there, he thought maybe his friend had left in search of help. For all he knew, he and Chet could’ve been unconscious for hours. But Roy wouldn’t leave them – at least not if he were in his right mind. And, Johnny surmised in his thoughts, if Roy had left to find help, he would’ve bandaged he and Chet up before he left. The first aid kit was easily accessible.

His arm began shaking, unwilling to hold John’s weight, but he refused to acknowledge it. Looking around, he looked for Roy’s footprints, showing the way the paramedic could have traveled. He saw none. There was hardly a breeze, letting him know that no footprints had been covered, and John soon realized that his friend couldn’t have gone that route.

John slowly let his eyes travel towards the front of his car, and the sudden shock made him lose his concentration as his arm gave out on him, dropping him into the seat with a thud.

No, no, dear God, please don’t let him be dead. Johnny used every ounce of strength he had left to pull himself up once more, sure that his eyes had been deceiving him. Slowly rising, he looked over towards the front of the car again, his mouth agape from shock. There lay Roy, obviously thrown through the windshield, landing just to the right of accident.

Johnny’s world was fading quickly, but he had to stare at his friend, unable to go to his side. Watching very closely, he waited, practically holding his breath as he watched for signs of life from Roy. When he saw his friend’s chest rise and fall, he had to see it a few more times, just to be sure.

He was alive!

It was only then, after knowing for sure, that John allowed the pain in his body to take over, succumbing to the blackness that would wait no longer.

Chet couldn’t figure out what had caused his friend’s laughter to turn to terror but there was no mistaking the sound – the tone – of Johnny’s voice. Sheer terror had gripped the man.

Looking out the front windshield, Chet now understood. He wanted to scream, wanted to find a way out of the situation, but there was nothing he could do other than will Johnny to make the right moves, will him to anticipate the actions of the crazy guy in the oncoming car. Just when he was sure that they had avoided a collision, the green Sedan made its final move – straight toward the Rover. There’s nothing Johnny can do now. God help us!

The impact caused Chet to bounce straight up in his seat. Mercifully, the impact of Chet’s head against the roof of the Rover immediately rendered him unconscious. If it hadn’t, he would have felt the flying glass cut his face and head. He would have felt his mid back hit the supporting bar on the back of the bench seat he had been sitting in causing immediate damage to his kidneys. He would have felt the gear in the back of the Rover rocket forward and hit him between the shoulders. He would have felt his knees impact with the seat in front of him causing his pelvis to crack under the extreme pressure. And most devastatingly of all, he would have seen Johnny hit the steering wheel; would have heard the sound of his friend’s bones breaking; would have seen Roy go through the window, tumbling like a rag doll across the front of the Rover then the Sedan. And, he would have seen Roy come to rest on the hot pavement, bleeding and unconscious.

The blackness in Chet’s mind wavered to gray. In the distance, there was an annoying, constant sound. He didn’t know what it was but he was relieved when it finally subsided. The total blackness invaded his mind again until he felt something – a new pressure on his neck. While still unconscious, Chet was vaguely aware of the pressure. And a voice. Who is whispering? Johnny? Is that you? Where are you? The blackness returned for a moment. Hey, who’s pulling my hair? Ouch! Blackness made it way in again for a bit longer this time. The slight sound of Johnny’s voice lightened the black again. What? Don’t let who be dead, Johnny? I’m not dead. Roy? Oh, God! Roy? Is Roy dead? Chet tried to hang on to the gray but Johnny didn’t say anything else – or if he did, Chet didn’t hear him. The blackness returned in full – there was no hope for gray any longer. Chet welcomed his return to full unconsciousness.

The first thing Roy felt as his world began to focus was the intense sensation of heat.

Fire.

Oh my God – I’m on fire! his jumbled thoughts raced, wondering where they’d been called out to and how he’d gotten in this predicament. Certainly someone should have been hosing him down by now, but he felt no relief from the hoses, and heard no voices from his crew.

As his senses ventured further into reality, he realized something wasn’t quite right. He knew the sensations of flames dancing at his fingertips – taunting him as they tried to reach him in their grasp. This wasn’t the same feeling. It was hot, yet somehow different. And even though he knew he didn’t have his air mask on, he found he had no difficulty breathing. It didn’t make sense.

Feeling his panic lessening, he opened his eyes, only to shut them immediately – the pain of the sun’s glare too intense for his sensitive pupils to adjust to. Wanting to block the glare that assaulted him, he lifted his left arm, wanting to shield himself from whatever menace was blinding his vision. The sharp pain that caused had him immediately dropping the appendage, quickening his heights of awareness as well.

Dislocated shoulder. Feels like the humerus is broken, too. he told himself, becoming more and more aware with each quickly drawn breath. Using his right arm, he pushed himself up as best he could, assessing more injuries as they let themselves be known.

Once he was balanced enough to sit up, his stomach suddenly lurched, spilling its contents as nausea overcame him. When he was finally able to calm down his churning stomach, he also realized that there were at least a few broken ribs involved, and wondered what other injuries he wasn’t noticing.

Cautiously lifting his right hand to his eyes, he cupped it over them, blocking the sun’s glare as he looked around him. Seeing the dry, deserted area around him which blurred within his focus, he slowly turned his body, careful not to aggravate his injuries. He gazed at the ground below him as he moved, trying his best not to cut himself with all the jagged glass that lay shattered around him. When he looked up again, he saw four cars, mangled and attached to one another.

Blinking several times, two of the automobiles seemed to merge together, only to separate again. Then he realized his vision was doubling. But that realization was nothing when he finally came to understand how he had gotten to this horrible place in time.

He stared blankly at the Land Rover for a moment, trying to understand what had happened. Then he realized his friends were still in that car.

Bracing himself with his good arm, he rose quickly, wanting to get to Johnny and Chet as soon as possible. That move had his head spinning relentlessly until he toppled back to the ground, landing unceremoniously on his butt. Slowly and more cautiously, he attempted to rise again, keeping his balance in check as he stood his ground.

Testing a few steps, he moved awkwardly towards the green sedan, checking the man’s pulse who sat flattened behind the steering wheel. He could see the driver’s neck was broken, but had to be sure, unable to trust his concussed judgements at the moment. Confirming what he’d thought, he just as quickly determined there were no other passengers in the car, and immediately ran over to check on Johnny and Chet.

His head was spinning as his stomach lurched again, threatening to empty what little contents it held. But he fought it, his mind now set on making sure his friends - his brothers, were still alive.

Johnny was laying against the passenger side door, his face a mess of blood and sweat. Reaching in carefully, he felt for a pulse, not even realizing he was holding his breath, scared for the worst. He exhaled long and slow when he found one, but was immediately concerned at its slow rate. Johnny’s breathing was irregular and labored, giving Roy the conclusion that he, too, had a few broken ribs, along with probably other internal injuries gone unseen. But he was alive, and that, to him, was a reason to give thanks.

Quickly going to the rear passenger side door, he pulled on it, seeing Chet’s lifeless form behind the front seat, crumpled in an unnatural position on the floorboard of the vehicle. But the door wouldn’t budge, and Roy could feel his conscious level slipping with each tug.

Having nothing to use other than his own hand, Roy pulled at the remaining glass which was left after the impact, not wanting to push it onto Chet. If it cut him, he didn’t feel it. The only thing he was feeling was the worry in his gut, scared that his friends were dying and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

Freeing up the window from its glass flesh trap, he reached in, gently grabbing Chet’s right wrist that lay across the seat where he had been sitting. He could see the wrist was broken, but compared to the other injuries this man had most undoubtedly sustained, this was the least of his worries.

Feeling the strong, erratic pulse, Roy felt relief as it swept over him, knowing these two were at least alive. Upon feeling his relief, his adrenaline seemed to flow from him like water running down a drain. His body began to fail him, sliding down against the Land Rover. If I just rest a minute, I’ll be okay, he thought.

Falling away from the car, he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

A noise brought Johnny back around. It took more than a few seconds for him to re-orient himself to his surroundings and his situation. Gathering all the strength he could muster, Johnny pushed himself back up into a semi-upright position.

Johnny reached back towards Chet. Good, still breathing. Pulse is getting weaker though. Johnny was disappointed to see that there was fresh blood on his hand as he forced himself back to a normal seated position. Shit. How much more can he bleed?

Looking through what once was the front window, Johnny started to panic. He squinted and looked again. He rubbed his eyes and looked once more. Where the hell is Roy? Johnny shifted a bit in order to lean forward for a better view.

“Roy?” Johnny’s voice was barely a whisper. Clearing his throat, Johnny spoke a bit louder. “Roy…where are you? Damn it Roy, where did you go?”

Johnny tried to move toward the door but his attempts ended in failure. Johnny was lost in his own world of pain and worry as he passed in and out of consciousness. He knew he had to get to Roy – hell, had to FIND Roy – but his mind and body were separated. His body wouldn’t do what his mind so desperately wanted. And, his mind kept betraying him as well. One moment, he would feel like he was ready and able to go to his friend, the next the blackness enveloped him. He fell back to a laying position.

Chet was becoming more aware of what was going on around him. Unfortunately, he was also becoming more and more aware of his pain. He heard a moan and realized that Johnny was very near him. While he was within arm’s length or his friend, he was not able to connect with Johnny. Chet continued to listen to the sounds of pain coming from his friend in what was left of the front seat of the Rover. He tried to make himself heard but he didn’t even have the strength to cry out in pain. He began to panic when he realized that he heard only the moans of one person. Roy was quiet – too quiet. Chet’s head spun faster than it had been.

The music was blaring as the two kids in the blue Mustang cruised down the road. They didn’t have a care in the world. They laughed and joked as they discussed their plans for an upcoming party.

The kid in the passenger seat began playing drums on the dashboard. His hands stopped beating in rhythm to the music as he formed a death grip on the dashboard.

“H-O-LY S-H-I-T!”

“Oh man, Billy, this is bad. This is really bad.” Steve began to slow down as they approached the scene before them.

As the car rolled to a stop, the young men sat in silence looking at the demolished vehicles.

“We gotta get out and help these people.” Billy sat unmoving.

“Do you think there’s anyone left to help?” Steve just stared at the sight.

Finally gathering their resolve and overcoming their fear, the two boys sprung into action.

Chet and Johnny heard the car approach. Both men tried to call out to their rescuers. Neither man was able to make a sound. Nor were they able to see what was going on. Chet hadn’t been able to sit up since the collision occurred. Johnny was once again prone on the front seat unable to push himself upright again.

Each man sat in their own worlds – each with a new glimmer of hope. Suddenly, their worlds collided and shattered.

“This guy is dead.”

In unison, Johnny and Chet let out painful screams of “NOOOOO!” In unison, both men lost consciousness – their hearts now as broken as their bodies.

Their screams drew the attention of Billy and Steve.

“Billy, you check out the people in the Jeep – or whatever the hell that thing is…or was. I’ll check out the guy on the ground beside it. There’s nothing we can do about the dead guy in this car.”

“Okay, Steve, but we gotta hurry. The guy on the ground doesn’t look much better off than the dead guy. We gotta get some help. Fast.”

As if on cue, Roy began moaning, his level of awareness peaked by hearing voices.

“Steve, this guy’s coming around! How about giving me some help over here? He’s trying to move – we gotta try and keep him still.”

As Billy and Steve restrained Roy’s movement, the paramedic began coming around a little more, not understanding why suddenly he was unable to move.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said, coming to more and more as the reality of his situation became clear again. “Don’t worry about me – my friends – my friends, they need help right away,” he said breathlessly, becoming agitated by his new-found suppressors.

“Sir, you shouldn’t move around, okay?” Steve spoke gently, “You could be aggravating your injuries.”

“I know this,” Roy said, pushing the hands away. “I’m a paramedic for the Los Angeles County Fire Department,” he stated, lifting himself uncomfortably into a sitting position as he continued talking, “My partner is the driver of this car, and the guy in the back seat is a fireman who works at the station with us. Is there help on the way? They’re in need of treatment right now.”

“No, we just got here, Mister,” Billy said flatly, looking from Roy to the Land Rover then back again.

“Listen,” Roy began, stopping his words only long enough for the two young men to help him up, whether they wanted to or not. “Could one of you go and get help here for us? I could use the other one to help me with the guys.”

“Sure, I’ll stay while Steve here goes into the next town and gets some help out here,” Billy said with confidence. He grabbed the keys from the ignition and let himself into the trunk, retrieving the crow bar as he closed the trunk up and gave the keys back to Steve. “We can maybe use this to get those doors open.”

“Good thinking,” Roy said, appreciating that these kids were so willing to help. “You wouldn’t by any chance have a first aid kit in your car, would you?”

“No sir, I’m sorry. But I won’t take long, I promise,” Steve offered. “If nothing else I’ll get the doctor to come out until the ambulance can get here – I think the doc’s in today - if not, I’ll find somebody!” He quickly jumped in the Mustang and started it, revving the engine before throwing it in gear.

“I hope he doesn’t get into an accident on the way in, driving like that,” Roy said softly, watching the cloud of dust that trailed down the road.

Roy’s thoughts were suddenly returned to his friends as he heard a soft moan coming from within the Land Rover.

Rushing to the passenger side door, Roy leaned in, ignoring his own pain as he began assessing his partner’s injuries.

He spoke soothingly as he poked and prodded with his good hand, trying to figure all the injuries his best friend had endured.

“Aww Johnny, how are you even coming around with all the injuries you’ve got here?” he whispered, feeling the broken bones easily. He knew along with a serious concussion his friend was also more than likely bleeding internally. He also knew there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. He found himself grateful when Johnny’s conscious level began diminishing again. Since there was nothing he could do for the pain, unconsciousness would be his friend’s only escape.

Stepping towards the back of the Rover, Roy leaned in to check on Chet, who had been eerily quiet since Roy had first regained consciousness. His pulse was still strong and still erratic, and from what Roy could tell, he hadn’t moved at all. His body was positioned in a curl behind the seat, and Roy noted it was going to be difficult, to say the least, getting him out of there without possibly causing further injuries.

Billy worked feverishly at prying the doors open on the Land Rover. It was a very hard task, considering the jamming impact the vehicle had received, but his own strength astounded him as one by one, he managed to get the doors free.

Roys first priority was to get both men up and laying flat in the bench seats as best they could. Ignoring his own tearful pain shooting through him, he and Billy managed to first get Johnny lying in a prone position in the front seat. Careful not to move him around and possibly aggravate any spinal injuries, Roy noted that the young paramedic’s breathing seemed a bit easier than it had been, slumped over himself at the passenger door. His head was placed on the passenger seat while his feet were under the steering wheel. It was the only option Roy had, considering the impact had thrown the wheel almost into the bench’s back of the driver’s side. Eyeing his friend over quickly once more, they moved towards Chet.

“Hey Chet – how’re ya doing?” Roy asked, hoping for an answer, but receiving none. Slowly he felt around Chet’s neck, then down his spine, saying a silent thanks that so far, he’d not found any discerning injuries. He looked over at Billy, who waited for Roy to tell him what to do next.

“Billy, we’ve got to be really careful with him, okay? In order to get him up and laying flat, we’ll both be pulling on his body which is already badly injured. I’m gonna need you to pull him up from your side and bring him over – make sure there’s no glass laying on the seat. I don’t want you getting hurt and I don’t want him getting any more cuts than necessary, okay?”

Billy nodded as he took a shirt he’d found laying in the floor and began sweeping the glass away, then pulled at a cooler that had apparently dislodged itself from behind this seat into its floor. He quickly threw the cooler out to the ground then jumped in, knees on the seat as he positioned himself over Chet.

“You don’t look so good,” He told Roy, noting the paleness and heavy perspiration of the injured leader.

Roy couldn’t help but grin. He didn’t feel so good, either. But he had to get his friends stabilized as best he could. “I’m okay, son. You ready?”

Billy nodded.

As Billy took the brunt of Chet’s weight and began lifting, Roy did his best to help, grabbing at Chet’s chest, then midsection, keeping him as straight as possible using only his right hand. By the time their victim was lying straight across the seat, Roy was wheezing, blinking his eyes as everything seemed to turn green, indicating to him he was about to pass out. He bent over for a moment, letting the blood rush back towards his head, even though the pain it caused in his ribcage seemed ready to burn like fire.

Standing himself upright very slowly, Roy held himself against the side of the car, regaining his balance for a few seconds before focusing on Chet. Noting the fresh blood still flowing easily from the side of Chet’s face, Roy looked over at Billy.

“I, I need you to find the first aid kit. It was in the back of the car – Lord knows where it landed after all this happened. He needs a pressure bandage applied to that wound to stop the bleeding,” he gasped as he took each breath, wanting to shake his head to stop the ringing in his ears. He knew that action would only make things worse for him, and used as much self restraint as he could.

“I’ll find it, don’t you worry,” Billy answered him quickly, immediately going to the back of the Land Rover. He was thankful that somehow, the back door opened without having to be pried apart. He found luck to be on his side still as he found the white box with the red cross on top, sitting within his arm’s reach.

Roy reached across Chet’s legs, then arms, wincing as the pain it caused had him cringing with each breath and flinching with each broken bone he found. He then ran his hands across the unconscious man’s torso and abdomen, noting to himself the rigidness that was indicative of internal bleeding. He knew time was not on their side.

Not thinking, Roy leaned himself back into a standing position. The pain felt like it was cutting him in half, from his head, shoulders, and on down, it was more than he could take. The blackness that surrounded him engulfed him easily, taking him into a painless bliss where worry over his friends disappeared as he drifted down to the pavement.

Dr. Frick and Mrs. Peterson, his nurse, had had a long day. They’d given flu shots to many of the townsfolk and assisted with a child’s asthma attack, as well as redressing the bandages that covered stitches he’d given a poor fellow who’d been fishing in the area when he decided to hook himself with his own line. Besides that, a few check-ups and the false labor of an eight month pregnant woman had them going from early morning until late that afternoon. By five in the evening, they’d finally managed to close up shop, and the nice young doctor offered to buy his nurse dinner at the one and only diner in town, which she gratefully accepted.

Mrs. Peterson was almost 63 years old, and she had grown a great admiration for the young doctor who’d taken over the clinic when Doc Williams passed away five years ago. Dr. Frick was in his early thirties, and she thought of him as her own son at times, regretting she’d never had children of her own.

He put his arm around her shoulders as they left the diner, thanking her for all the help she’d given during their very busy day. She was about to answer him when a blue Mustang sped up beside them, slamming it’s brakes as a cloud of dust flew up from behind it, encircling them.

“Young man!” she hollered, waving blindly at the dust cloud that hung. “Don’t you know better than to drive like that? You could have killed us!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Peterson, but when I saw you and Doc Frick here coming out of the diner, I couldn’t help it! There’s been a terrible accident up the old state road. There’s two cars that hit head on, and one of the guys is already dead,” he said excitedly, pausing only to catch his breath. “There’s three folks up there that need medical attention right away!”

Dr. Frick looked at his nurse before he began speaking. “Why don’t you ride up there with Steve and I’ll go get my equipment and call for an ambulance from the other side of the lake. I’ll get a hold of the sheriff, too. If they’re real bad off, we may need to get a helicopter out there and get ‘em transported into the next county.”

The nurse nodded and smiled. This young doctor had proven himself to her many times over, even when at first she hadn’t wanted to give him the chance. Quickly she got into the passenger side of the Mustang.

“Exactly where are they, Steve?”

“About seven and a half miles north of Bubba’s Lake.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” the doctor stated, then turned quickly, running towards his office.

“Oh dear.” Mrs. Peterson knew it was bad before she even got out of the car. “Young man, you did say people survived, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Peterson. When I left, there were still 3 people alive…but just barely.”

“Thank God, you’re back, Steve. And, thank God you are here, Mrs. Peterson. I don’t know what to do. Where is Dr. Frick?”

“He’s on his way, Billy.” Steve hated the look that was on his friend’s face. “Are they…I mean…have they…I mean…shit…”

“They’re still alive. But, I don’t think the guy in the back is going to make it. He hasn’t come around at all. And, the guy here on the ground. Well, I’m afraid he used his last chance at saving himself by overdoing it trying to help his friends.”

Mrs. Peterson came to an abrupt stop upon approaching the figure laying at the side of the Rover. “Oh no, it can’t be.” She covered her mouth for a minute and tried to regain her composure.

“Mrs. Peterson?”

“Oh, Billy, this man has been through here before. He helped save a small child and his mother about a year ago.” The memory also brought back thoughts of another man. Mrs. Peterson approached the door of the Rover. “No!”

Steve broke the silence that followed Mrs. Peterson’s reaction to seeing – and recognizing – Johnny. “The man in the back, do you know him too?”

Mrs. Peterson looked at the broken form of Chet laying on the back seat. “I vaguely remember another person being with these two young men. He may have been their friend but I can’t be sure.” Mrs. Peterson got a quizzical look on her face but didn’t give it much more thought as there was work to be done.

“Billy, count the pulse of the man in back. Then count his respirations. Steve, you do the same for the man in the front seat. I’ll get the information for this poor man down here,” she said, kneeling beside Roy.

As the information was being gathered, Dr. Frick pulled up to the scene. In the distance, the sheriff’s sirens could be heard.

Dr. Frick was out of his car almost before it stopped. “What’ve we got?”

“Oh, it’s bad, Dr. Frick. All of them are unconscious. They are the young men from Los Angeles,” Mrs. Peterson spoke quickly.

“Who?”

“The paramedics. They were here vacationing last year and, I think this other man might have been with them. I’m not sure though – I just vaguely remember there was another person. But I don’t remember their names though. Billy? See if you can find some identification on them, please? We’ll need to know soon enough, anyway.”

Billy did as he was asked, and Mrs. Peterson recognized the names easily – all but Chet’s, of course.

Dr. Frick knelt down beside Roy as Mrs. Peterson, Billy, and Steve relayed the pulse and respiration information they had gathered.

“Has he been conscious?” Dr. Frick didn’t look up as he continued to assess Roy’s injuries.

“Yeah, Doc, he was awake for a short time. He looked over his friends and I helped him get them into the positions they are in now. Man, his left arm is a mess. I think it’s broken, isn’t it, Doc?”

“Yes, Billy, it is – as you say – a mess.”

“He wasn’t concerned about it though. He just kept pushing on. He said that both of the other men have internal injuries and broken bones. He was much more worried about them.”

Dr. Frick looked up at Billy then at the other two standing around him. “Steve, help Mrs. Peterson stabilize this arm. Find what you can to strap it to his body. Billy, you…”

Dr. Frick was interrupted by the arrival of the sheriff.

“Sheriff Adams, I’m glad you’re here. Like I thought, we are going to need a helicopter to remove these men. Can you get in touch with Los Angeles County and tell them of our situation?”

“Sure thing, Doc. I already made initial contact with them on my way here.”

“Then, patch me through to…what was the name of that hospital? Mrs. Peterson…”

“Rampart, Dr. Frick.”

“Rampart. Patch me through to the emergency room at Rampart, if you can.”

As the sheriff began making his contacts, Dr. Frick crawled into what was left of the front seat of the Rover. A low whistle escaped between his teeth. “Billy, go to my car and get the box from the back seat.” The doctor glanced over the seat to look at Chet. This time, the whistle was louder.

Dr. Frick started the IV on Johnny. He was preparing to start one on Chet when the sheriff approached. “The helicopter won’t be available for 10 minutes. They’re transporting a victim to Rampart right now. They’ll head this way as soon as they transfer their patient. I’ve got Rampart – a Dr. Brackett – on the line right now. Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yeah, Mac, just let me get this IV started.”

Dr. Frick made quick work of starting the IV on Chet.

“Yes, Dr. Frick? From up in Middleville?…This is Kelly Brackett. How can I help you?……………………………………… …………… WHAT?”

Dixie and Joe Early turned to see Dr. Brackett rubbing his furrowed brow.

“The three men, they are two paramedics and a fireman from your county.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Brackett looked up at Joe and Dixie who had moved to his side.

“There was a head-on crash. One victim is dead. The other three are gravely injured. I’ve called for a helicopter. LA said that as soon as they drop their patient at your hospital, they will send the chopper here.”

“Who? Who are the victims?”

“John Gage. Roy DeSoto.” Partially covering the phone, Dr. Frick yelled over his shoulder, “Billy, what did you say the guy in the back’s name is?”

Dr. Frick returned to Dr. Brackett. Brackett didn’t give Frick a chance to speak. “I heard – Chet Kelly. What are their conditions?”

Dixie handed Kel a pad of paper and a pencil. Kel began writing fast and furiously. “Son-of-a-bitch.” “Damn.” Other than occasionally swearing, Dr. Brackett wasn’t saying anything. After a pause, he broke the pencil in half. Closing his eyes and regaining his composure, he spoke. “Do what you can. I’ll be on that helicopter.” After another pause, Brackett hung up the phone and leaned on the counter with both hands. He closed his eyes and tried to muster the strength he knew he would need to help his friends. He was brought back to the current by the gentle touch of a hand on his back.

“Kel?”

Dr. Brackett looked from Dixie to the now approaching Dr. Joe Early. Drawing in a deep breath, he waited until Joe was beside them before speaking.

“There’s been a bad car wreck up in Middleville near Santa Rosa County. Head-on collusion. Roy and Johnny and Chet are involved. They don’t look good, either,” he said, grimacing at his own words.

“Oh no,” Dixie gasped.

“What can we do, Kel?” Joe asked quietly.

“We’ve got a chopper coming in here shortly with the victim from 36’s brush fire. As soon as they get unloaded, Dix, you and I are heading up there to pick them up. Let’s not take any chances. I want you to gather up all the gear - get the portable drug box, and grab up the surgical kit, just in case.”

“Kel, how bad are they?” Dixie asked, reading his face yet hoping she was wrong.

“All three of them have multiple fractures and internal injuries, along with at least moderate concussions that as of yet haven’t been ruled out as skull fractures. All of them are unconscious and unresponsive, and that’s just what Dr. Frick has told me. God knows what else they’ve got going against them.”

Dixie shook her head sadly as she turned, quickly walking away from the two doctors to gather all the necessary equipment.

Roy moaned as his arm and shoulder were placed tightly against his aching ribcage. He kept his eyes closed, willing himself to be unconscious again and take away the pain he felt from head to toe. Then it occurred to him that he was not the only one injured as bloody visions of his friends raced through his memory. Diverting the welcoming darkness, he forced his eyes open, trying to sit himself up at the same time with very weak results.

“Roy, you’ve got to stay still, do ya hear me?”

Roy immediately calmed himself, hearing in his mind the soothing voice of John Gage. Then he saw his bloodied partner, slumped against the passenger side door of the Land Rover. His mind jumbled painfully, realizing it was not his partner he had just heard, and he struggled once more to stand.

Now he felt two sets of hands restraining him as the voice that had called to him began talking again. “Roy, my name is Dr. Frick. You have to remain still so you don’t go aggravating your injuries any more, you hear? I’ve got you stabilized but it’s not going to do any good if you keep moving around like that.”

“My friends,” Roy spoke weakly, obeying the doctor’s request by stopping his struggling. “How are Johnny and Chet?”

“Both still alive, just like you. Don’t worry, they’re getting the best of care right now.”

Roy sighed with visible relief. He looked around, noting to himself how dark it had become out there, and with the darkness, he felt cold and began shivering uncontrollably.

“Steve,” Dr. Frick said quickly, pulling his car keys from his pocket and throwing them to the young man he called, “go in my trunk and pull out the blankets – I’ll need one here and the two in the truck will need them, too.”

“How long have I been out, Doc?” Roy asked absently, “last thing I remember, it was light out here.”

Dr. Frick looked worriedly at Nurse Peterson, who had joined them after hearing Roy coming to.

“I’m not quite sure,” he answered as he waved his hand in front of the paramedic’s face. “But Roy, it’s about six o’clock in the evening … it’s still light outside.”

If the color could have drained from Roy’s sunburned face, it would have as the realization that he was blind hit him with blunt force.

“Can you see anything, Roy? Any shadows, anything at all?”

“No, Doc.”

“Don’t worry, Roy, I’m sure it’s just from the concussion you’ve got there. We know your vision was fine earlier when you were tending to your friends – I’m sure it’s nothing permanent.”

“Easy for you to say,” Roy said quietly before slipping back into unconsciousness.

“Doc Frick! Doc Frick! Hurry over here! This man in the back – I think he’s having convulsions!” Steve’s voice told easily his panic as the doctor and nurse got up quickly and ran to the Land Rover.

Nurse Peterson held down Chet’s legs at his knees while Doctor Frick got into the vehicle and practically sat on his chest, using the small flashlight he’d just checked Roy’s pupils with to stop Chet from chewing on and even possibly swallowing his own tongue. He’d already bitten his lip, as was evident with the fresh blood that flowed freely down his chin. It took almost sixty seconds for the seizure to pass. Still standing over Chet, he took the man’s vitals once again before slowly getting himself out of the truck.

“He’s comatose now,” the doctor said glumly. “If that chopper doesn’t get here soon, we’re going to lose all three of them.”

Mrs. Peterson shook her head with regret as she walked around the doctor to check on Johnny.

“I’d hate to see that happen. They’re such good boys.”

Both the doctor and nurse were so involved in their thoughts that neither noticed the sheriff walking up beside them.

“I just talked to Betsy, and she got an ETA on the helicopter. They said they’ll be here in about ten minutes. Is there anything I can do to help you two in the meantime?”

“Pray, Mac,” Dr. Frick said softly. “Pray.”

Dixie and Kel stood anxiously waiting for the helicopter to arrive. They both were thinking the same thing – hoping they’d get to the location before dark, and hoping they wouldn’t be too late.

When they heard Greg, the pilot of the helicopter, announcing over the scanner that he had Rampart in sight, they quickly ran outside, not wanting to waste a precious moments time.

Joe Early had made two phone calls while waiting for his patient to arrive in the helicopter. The first was to Mike Morton, asking him to come in to cover for Dr. Brackett’s departure. The second was to Captain Hank Stanley; calling him at home, giving him the grave news.

Hank stood over the phone for the moment, letting the information he’d just been given sink in. He could hardly believe it. Three of his crew sitting on death’s doorstep. He broke himself of his thoughts and picked the phone up once more, calling Mike and Marco, knowing they’d all be meeting at Rampart.

Dixie read the worry on Dr. Brackett’s face, even though he was turned away from her, staring at the passing landscape below. “Kel, they’ll be all right, we won’t let them be anything less.”

“If we can get to them in time, Dix.”

He tapped Greg, the helicopter’s pilot, on the shoulder. “How much longer?”

“About ten more minutes Doc, that’s all.”

“I hope that’s enough.”

“I wonder how far away they are?” Billy was looking toward the sky, searching for any sign of the approaching helicopter.

“I don’t even hear the chopper yet. I hope they get here fast though. I have done everything I possibly can.” Dr. Frick kept speaking but it was more a matter of going through a checklist for himself than trying to explain his actions. “I’ve got IV’s started on all of them. Just plain ringers but at least it’s fluids. I’ve splinted what I can but there’s just so damn much that I can’t splint or stabilize. What about the internal injuries? I can’t do a thing for them. Not a thing. And, Roy, I’ve patched his eyes so that he doesn’t damage them by trying to look around if he comes to again. But what the hell is going on with that? Why can’t he see? What have I missed? What else can I do? Where is the damn helicopter?”

“There it is!” Steve was more excited than he ever remembered being.

“Where? I don’t see it, young man.”

“I don’t either Mrs. Peterson. But, I hear it. It’s far away but it’s coming!”

Mrs. Peterson strained, listening for any hint of the helicopter’s rotors. “Yes. Yes! I hear it too. Oh, thank the Lord.”

“Okay, Marco, I’ll meet you at Rampart.” Cap hung up the phone. The call to Mike had been difficult. After all, the men were all very close. But, the call to Marco had been much harder, more intense. Chet and Marco were the best of friends. Almost as close as Roy and Johnny.

C’mon, men, you gotta make it here. All of you. Dear God. What happened Johnny? I’m sure you tried to avoid the accident – but, what happened? What’s going on out there? Are you even still alive? Of course you are. You have to be. Hang on. Just hang on………please.

Cap grabbed his keys and headed towards the door. Stopping for a moment, he turned back toward the phone. Gotta call McConnikee. He’s going to have to replace all of us for tomorrow’s shift. All of us.

Mike still couldn’t find his keys. He’d been looking for them since hanging up the phone with his Captain. He looked high and low. He looked everywhere he normally kept them.

“Damn it!”

Mike headed back to the kitchen. Not on the table. Not on the counters. Not in the phone drawer. Mike opened the back door just to make sure he hadn’t left them in the key hole when he’d come in.

“DAMN IT!!”

Mike slammed the door. Keep your cool, Stoker. You always do – do it again this time too.

Mike walked – stomped – to the front door. They’re not here either.

“D-A-M-N I-T A-L-L!!” Mike slammed the front door. “Why does something like this always happen?” Mike walked back to the kitchen. “Don’t you die. Don’t any of you die!”

Mike put his hands on his hips. His fingers felt the lump in his pocket. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Mike pulled out the keys. A slight smile crossed his face. You have to do better than this, Stoker. Get it together. NOW!

Mike sprinted out the door and to his car.

Marco sat in the car replaying the conversation he’d had with Cap.

“Marco, I have some bad news.” Cap sounded so depressed. And, so worried.

“What, Cap?”

“There’s been an accident. Johnny, Roy, and Chet…” Cap paused a little too long while trying to understand what he was saying himself.

“Cap? Are they dead? Dios Mio, no.”

“No, no, Marco. But, they are all very seriously injured. Dr. Brackett is taking the medi-evac helicopter out to the scene to bring them back to Rampart. It’s bad, Marco, it’s really, really bad.”

“What happened? No, it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to the hospital. I want to be there when Dr. Brackett gets back with them.”

“Okay, Marco, I’ll meet you at Rampart.”

Marco shook his head to clear his thoughts. He put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. As he put the car in drive, he began a prayer that would last until he was inside the hospital.

The helicopter was within sight of the accident scene. The sun was setting but it was still light enough to see the scene below. Even from a distance, Kel and Dix could see that things were bad. No one spoke until the helicopter pilot hit the chopper’s floodlights.

“Dear God!” Dixie closed her eyes for a moment.

The natural light had readily shown the two mangled cars. A body could be seen laying on the ground although it was difficult to see exactly who it was. The people offering assistance were easily discernable too.

The floodlights brought the gravity of the situation into clear, unmistakable view.

“Look at the blood.” Kel hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts.

Dixie opened her eyes and looked at the ground as they neared the scene.

“Kel, there’s too much. There’s too much blood on the ground. Oh, no! That’s Roy over by the Rover. He looks like he’s still unconscious. I can’t see Johnny or Chet.”

“I think that’s Johnny on the front seat of the Rover. I can see him – or someone - through the window. Or, where there used to be a window. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an accident like this where there were any survivors.” Again, Kelly Brackett was kicking himself for speaking out loud without meaning to. He didn’t want to make this any harder on Dixie than it already was.

The helicopter set down a few yards from the cars. Kel squeezed Dixie’s arm in a reassuring manner. “Let’s go, Dix.” He offered Dixie the best smile he could. She returned the same half-hearted smile.

Dr. Brackett opened the door and jumped out of the chopper. He held out his hand and helped Dixie out as well. They grabbed their equipment and ran toward the demolished Rover.

Bypassing greetings, Brackett addressed Dr. Frick. “What’ve we got?”

Just as Dr. Frick was about to speak, Roy regained consciousness and began yelling.

“I can’t see! Is that you, Dr. Brackett? I can’t see.”

Dr. Frick dropped down to Roy’s side. “Roy, it’s Dr. Frick, you have to relax. I patched your eyes. I don’t want you to move them. Just relax and keep your eyes still.” Looking at Dr. Brackett who had knelt down beside Roy as well, Frick filled in his colleague. “Roy came to about 20 minutes ago and couldn’t see. I couldn’t see any obvious injuries to his eyes but irrigated them and patched them after he passed out.”

Dr. Brackett grabbed Roy’s wrist and began assessing the rate and strength of his pulse. He also visually scanned Roy’s body as he spoke, noting the immobilized arm and shoulder, the facial lacerations, the blistering from the obvious sunburn, and the deepening contusions on his face. “Roy, it’s Dr. Brackett. Just relax like Dr. Frick has said. We’ll get your eyes figured out back at Rampart. What else hurts?”

Roy’s answer was interrupted by a shrill gasp from over by the Rover. Dixie had gone to check on Johnny and Chet but was not prepared for what she saw.

“Dixie?” Roy’s voice told his sudden panic. “Dixie? Is it Johnny? Is it Chet? What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, Dixie recovered herself to answer Roy’s instant concern. “It’s okay Roy. I just lost my footing, but caught myself before I fell. The guys look okay.”

Roy turned his head away from all the people around him. “They didn’t look ‘okay’ when I saw them,” he whispered.

Sure that he was stabilized and all wounds had been taken care of as best as possible, Dr. Brackett waved Greg over to where he was, having him bring one of the stokes. Quickly they loaded Roy into it and secured him down, then Greg and Billy and Steve gently took him over to the helicopter.

Brackett spoke words of comfort to the man as he fell back into unconsciousness, but knew his words were far from comforting the worried paramedic.

He then went immediately to the Rover, trying his damndest to control the raging emotions within him.

“Get those other stokes over here now!” he yelled, realizing that time was not on their side.

Dixie stayed up front with Johnny as she updated his vitals from Dr. Frick’s last written ones, jotted down about ten minutes before they arrived, while Kel got in the back with Chet.

“His BP has dropped since the last readings were taken, Kel,” Dixie said of Chet, watching as Dr. Brackett checked him over one more time before readying him to load into the stokes. “Johnny’s is dropping too, and his abdomen is distended and rigid.”

Kel Brackett’s eye was twitching involuntarily. Chet was barely stable enough to transport.

Quickly explaining how he wanted Chet lifted and placed into the stokes, he -along with Billy, Steve, and Dr. Frick, loaded their precious cargo and Chet was taken towards the helicopter to be locked in place beside Roy on the floor.

Dr. Brackett leaned over the front seat just in time to hear the moan escape from John’s lips. Dixie began talking to him, her tone soothing as she tried her best to comfort him.

When Johnny finally forced his eyelids to open, he was rewarded with the sight of both his favorite doctor and nurse.

“Am I at Rampart?” he asked groggily.

“Almost John, almost,” Brackett answered, listening to the paramedic’s broken up chest with his stethoscope.

Suddenly John began struggling, hurting his already pain-filled body even more.

“Settle down, John – settle down! You’re okay, do you hear me?” Dr. Brackett ordered, trying his best to keep him from moving and aggravating his wounds further.

“Roy! Chet! I, I need to find them – they’re hurt … real bad.” The words were choking out of him as he struggled to remain conscious.

“Johnny,” Dixie began, stroking the side of his face with a very soft touch, “Roy and Chet are already loaded in the helicopter and they’re holding their own. As soon as we get you loaded up we’re all heading to Rampart. Everything’s going to be just fine,” she said, her tone lulling him as she tried her best to convince him of what she was not convinced of herself.

John Gage seemed to accept her word for truth as his facial expression eased, letting his body win it’s struggle as he lost consciousness once more.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Dr. Frick asked on behalf of Mrs. Peterson and himself.

They all looked down the road for a moment as the sound of an approaching siren became clear.

Dr. Brackett shook his head ‘no’, then held out his hand, shaking Dr. Frick’s with enthusiasm. “Thank you so much for what you’ve done here. You just may well have saved their lives.”

“I hope so – they are fine men. You’ll let us know how they’re doing?” Mrs. Peterson asked.

“Of course we will,” Dixie chimed in.

All four helped to lift Johnny into the stokes, then watched as the boys and Greg took him to the chopper, readying him for transport.

“Well, it looks like they’ve got John secure in there now. I’ve got to get this guy into the other county – the morgue’s about forty-five miles from here.” Dr. Frick spoke softly, watching as the ambulance attendants brought over the stretcher. He watched as Sheriff Adams pointed to the body of the sedan’s driver, laid out beside the wreckage, covered with a yellow blanket. The men silently began their task of putting the lifeless form on the stretcher.

“Looks like he had a massive heart attack. Probably didn’t know what hit him,” Dr. Frick said, answering their unspoken question.

“Or what he hit,” Dixie responded solemnly.

Dr. Brackett quickly jumped into the helicopter, then turned around, helping Dixie in. Once she was inside, the rotors began speeding up, and Kel secured the door. Dixie stared out at the wreckage through the window for a moment before turning her gaze towards the doctor.

The look Dixie gave Kel was one he knew he’d never forget. It told him of her fear, knowing she would be forever lost if death took its hold on any of these members of station 51.

As the helicopter began it’s assent, Dixie couldn’t help but stare at the three lifeless men situated below her. Dr. Brackett was steadily checking them over as he leaned down towards them, scared that either of the three’s conditions would deteriorate at any given moment.

She nervously rechecked their IVs and splints, her greatest fear now that Kel Brackett would turn to her and announce one of them had passed.

It seemed like it was taking hours to get to the hospital, even though only mere moments had passed.

Mike met Marco and Captain Stanley in the doctor’s lounge, the men needing as much privacy as possible to handle the news on their crewmates. Joe Early readily gave them permission to go in there, but the room was very quiet, and having no distractions made their imaginations heighten with their growing concerns.

Joe informed them on the updates Dr. Brackett had called in, letting these men know that their friends were all in critical condition, but were at least stable - for the moment.

“Kel said it was a miracle they’d survived the crash. Roy was thrown through the windshield and was the least injured of the three. Right now their main concern other than his internal bleeding and dislocated shoulder is the blindness which is undoubtedly being caused by his concussion. He’s got fractured ribs and a broken humerus,” Joe paused, letting the information sink in. He didn’t want to get these men’s hopes up just to have their hearts ripped out if someone didn’t make it. “Chet has a broken pelvis, several broken ribs, a broken left fibula, and it looks like his jaw is broken, along with internal bleeding. Johnny has at least six broken ribs and a broken collar bone, and Kel’s pretty sure one of those ribs has punctured a lung. It’s possible he’s got a skull fracture. His injuries seem apparent from impacting the steering wheel. His right ankle is also broken, possibly a few bones in his right foot too, and his abdomen is rigid from internal bleeding. That’s all we know so far.”

He looked around at the devastated faces of the firemen in front of him. They all seemed so lost. He hoped they wouldn’t have to go through anything worse.

“As soon as they arrive they’ll all be going straight upstairs and into surgery. We’ll set the fractures as soon as we get them out of their immediate danger and have them stabilized. I’m sorry – I wish I could give you better news, but I’ll make sure you guys are updated with any news on them. I’m sorry to rush off like this, but I have to get ready for surgery.”

“Ah, thanks, Joe,” Captain Stanley’s voice shook as he spoke, his shock evident. Marco and Mike simply nodded, their sentiments of gratitude the same.

“It’s going to be a long night, gentlemen,” Dr. Early said as he walked towards the door. “Try and get some rest.”

“What? Where, Dix?” Dr. Brackett began looking from side to side. He was nearly in a panic.

Dixie came out of her momentary trance and started her own panic. “What, Kel?”

“The snake. Where’s the snake?” Dr. Brackett was still searching the floor of the helicopter hoping like hell that it hadn’t crawled into any of the stokes. He knew that none of his friends could survive the added trauma of a snakebite.

“There’s a snake? Oh God, can this get any worse?” Dix picked her feet up off the floor and started searching as well.

Brackett paused a moment before looking at the nurse. “You were the one who mentioned the snake, Dix.”

“Huh?” Dixie was confused. “I didn’t see a snake.”

Brackett rubbed his brow. “I distinctly heard you say ‘snake’”.

Dixie thought for a moment before putting her feet back down on the floor. “No, Kel. I mean, yes, Kel. I guess I did say ‘snake’. At least I thought ‘snake’ – I didn’t realize I actually said anything.”

The doctor’s quizzical look caused Dixie to smile for the first time since being informed of the accident. “Snakebitten, Kel. I was thinking – and I guess saying – that these poor guys are snakebitten. They can’t take a trip together that something doesn’t happen.”

Dr. Brackett’s face lost its tension as a slight smile came to him as well. Touching Dixie’s knee, Kel shook his head. “I have to agree with you, Dix. But do me a favor, huh? Next time, keep your thoughts to yourself!”

Doctor and nurse both laughed nervously before turning their attention back to their injured friends.

Cap raised his head from his hands. Hearing the noise in the hallway, he willed himself to get up from the couch. He knew he had to step outside the door – had to see what he’d hoped he’d never have to.

Silently, Marco and Mike followed. The three men stood watching. An orchestrated chaos was playing out before them. Orderlies were heading toward the door with gurneys, a group of doctors – led by Joe Early – were breaking up a hushed huddle, nurses stood by with additional IV fluids hanging from poles.

Then, the word came from the open ER doors. “They’ve landed, folks, let’s move!”

Cap started to head for the door but Mike gently grabbed his arm.

“Let’s stay here, Cap. We need to keep out of the way. They’ll have to pass us anyway on the way to the elevators.”

Cap looked at Mike, then to Marco, and shook his head in acknowledgement, knowing that he couldn’t trust his voice at this point.

In a matter of moments, Brackett ran through the doors.

“Madre de Dios!” Marco spoke for Cap and Mike. Dr. Brackett was covered in blood.

Brackett heard the fireman’s comment and looked toward the three men. “I’ll be there in a minute. Let me make this call.” With that, Brackett turned his attention to the matter at hand. He needed to alert the O.R. – needed to make sure that everything was in place.

While Brackett was on the phone, the first gurney was brought though the doors. Cap, Marco, and Mike could see the white sheets, could see the blood, but couldn’t make out who was on the gurney until it was almost upon them.

“Chet.” Cap barely whispered the fireman’s name.

The three men turned in unison to watch the gurney move toward the elevator. The small group of people surrounding Chet were working feverishly to hook up additional IV bags into his existing lines and to assess his diminishing vitals.

A noise from behind caused the men to turn around and face the doors again. This time, a very familiar face – that of Dixie, was the first person in sight. “Kel! Kel!”

Dr. Brackett turned to see Johnny’s gurney coming around the corner. He dropped the phone at the sight of Joe Early standing on the lower rails, administering CPR as the gurney moved down the hall.

“What the hell?” Brackett ran to Johnny and took one look. “We don’t have time. Room 1 – NOW!” Brackett turned and looked at the three men standing outside the lounge door. A sad frown was all he could offer the men.

Forgetting that there was still one gurney – one friend – unaccounted for, Cap turned toward the wall and rested his forehead against his hands.

“Cap.” Mike’s voice was shaking. “Cap.” Mike spoke a little louder this time only making the shaking more apparent.

Captain Stanley turned his head toward Mike but kept leaning on the wall. He wasn’t sure, but he was willing to bet that it was the only thing holding him up.

“Wha…What, Mike?” Hank sounded exhausted.

“Where’s Roy?”

As if on cue, the gurney carrying Roy entered the Emergency Room.

“Listen, Cap! I hear Roy. He’s talking, Cap, he’s talking!” Marco couldn’t hide his relief.

The Captain found energy that moments earlier, he was sure he didn’t have. He pushed himself away from the wall and headed towards Roy. This time, Mike didn’t stop him. In fact, Mike and Marco were right behind him.

Dr. Mike Morton looked up and saw the men approaching. Knowing that Roy was out of immediate danger, and sensing that the men approaching him were in immediate danger of a different type, Morton stopped the gurney.

“He’s coming around, Hank. We need to get him up to the O.R. but we have a few minutes."

Captain Stanley mouthed words of thanks to the doctor before touching the shoulder of his injured paramedic. “R…Roy. We’re here, Roy. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you, Cap. I just can’t see you.” Roy’s weak voice tore at the hearts of his co-workers.

Hank slightly squeezed Roy’s shoulder. “Well, we better let the doctors take care of that then. We’ll be waiting here for you.”

Mike and Marco chimed in with a “you bet” before Morton motioned for the medical entourage to resume movement to the elevators.

As Dr. Morton passed, Cap reached out for the doctor’s shoulder. This time when speaking to the doctor, he found his voice. “Thanks, Mike, take good care of him. We WILL be waiting.”

Morton offered a hopeful grin and nod of his head before joining the gurney as it moved onto the elevator.

“What the hell happened?” Brackett put the paddles back on the cart after verifying one more time that Johnny was back. Sinus rhythm. Not strong, not good, but it’s there anyway. You really need to stop doing this to me, John Gage!

“We moved him off the chopper and onto the ground and he just went out, Kel.” Joe Early was scratching his head.

“Think a rib moved? Shit! Look at his BP – it’s dropped again.”

“Laceration of the ventricle?”

“Don’t know, Joe. Could just be a contusion to the heart. Based on the way he impacted with the steering wheel, it could be anything.” Looking at the monitors and realizing that things weren’t getting any better, Kel grabbed the gurney. “Dix, call the O.R. Make sure Jones from cardiology is scrubbed and ready to cut. Let’s move!”

The doors to Room 1 flew open and Johnny’s gurney, surrounded by doctors and nurses, rushed down the hall toward Cap, Marco, and Mike.

Brackett stopped just long enough to try and reassure the men of 51. “We got him back. We have to open him up fast.” Looking back and seeing the elevator door open, Brackett turned back to the men. “I’ve got to go. We’ll let you know something as soon as we can.” A grim look passed between the doctor and the men. And then, Dr. Brackett was gone.

Silence hung between the 3 men. Cap put a hand on a shoulder of each of his men and turned them toward the lounge. “C’mon, Mike and Marco. Let’s go sit down.”

Marco sat silently, looking out the window at the late night sky. Mike had gone through every magazine in the lounge and was now reading through them a second time. And Hank just watched them, taking turns between sitting down and pacing the floor, giving equal time to both endeavors.

The Captain had finally gotten hold of Roy’s wife, who had taken their children to her mother’s for a little vacation of their own while Roy had gone with Johnny and Chet. The soonest flight in Joanne could get was in the morning, and her mother convinced her to leave the children there so she could concentrate on Roy. She would be arriving after noon tomorrow.

Calling Chet’s parents was harder. Joanne was a rock when it came to the unexpected, no matter how grim it appeared to be. But Chet’s mother and father were verging on hysterical, and were going to contact one of Chet’s brothers to drive them down to Los Angeles and Rampart. They would get there just before noon tomorrow.

And then there was the call to John’s aunt. Hank could hear the fear in her voice as he explained the accident for the third time that night. She asked him if Johnny would make it. That’s when the Captain himself finally broke down, unable to keep his stoic demeanor up as his wall of strength began tumbling down around him.

“I’m praying he’ll pull through this, ma’am,” Hank answered, feeling the tears well up within his eyes.

“So am I, son,” Johnny’s aunt replied, “so am I.” She would be flying in from Montana as soon as possible.

The next and final call Hank Stanley made that night was to his wife. He needed to hear her voice and needed her reassurances, because right now, he didn’t believe in his own.

Roy was the first one out of surgery. Joe Early felt compelled to sit with him, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off, but couldn’t help but leave every now and then to check the progress of the other two victims of this horrendous accident.

He felt secure in the knowledge that Roy was going to make it. His internal bleeding was minimized easily, and the rib fractures were clean. The worst scenario had been his concussion, and having to put him under for the surgery which was more than a complication. Now the only real worry with his condition seemed to be his blindness. Joe caught himself praying it was only temporary.

Walking back in with Roy for the third time, he noticed Roy’s hands moving, as if he were stretching or feeling for something.

“Roy, it’s Dr. Early, can you hear me?”

He was answered with a slight moan as Roy’s head tilted toward him. “Hurts.”

“You’ve just had surgery, Roy. You’re in recovery right now.”

“Fire?”

“No, Roy, you were in an accident.”

“Uh, shoulder?”

“Dislocated. Broken humerus too, that’s why you’ve got that sling on. We’ll get a cast on you a little later. Right now you just need to rest.”

“What else?”

"Three broken ribs, a moderate concussion, slight internal bleeding which is why you had to have the surgery, and all together fifty-six stitches to go with your colorful bruising. All in all Roy, I’d say you were a lucky man.”

Dr. Early watched as Roy slowly raised his right hand towards his face, the IV lines straining slightly with his movement.

“Doc? What’s with the bandages over my eyes?”

Dr. Early reached over and gently put Roy’s hand back down beside him. “Do you remember anything from the accident, Roy?”

“Uh, no Doc, I guess I don’t. The last thing I remember was Johnny and Chet and me going on another one of those fishing trips and …” suddenly Roy cringed.

“Roy? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“We crashed, didn’t we?” Roy asked, his words slightly above a whisper as his awareness brought on reality.

“You were hit head on, Roy. It’s a miracle you survived the crash. But you’re going to be just fine.”

“Oh God – Johnny and Chet! I remember now – they, they were critical … oh no, they didn’t make it, did they?” Roy’s voice was rising right along with his panic.

“Roy, you’ve got to calm down – they’re alive. Do you hear me? They are BOTH alive and in surgery right now.”

“How are they, Doc?”

“They’re not real good Roy, but they were both stabilized and taken to surgery a few hours ago when you were, and I’ve been checking on them. So far, so good.”

Roy sighed. “Why are my eyes bandaged, Dr. Early? I mean, I can remember seeing things after the accident – did something else happen to me – am I blind?”

“I think it’s from the pressure your concussion caused, and no, I don’t think it’s permanent. My initial examination showed good reaction to light, so you just need to relax and keep the bandages on for a little while to let the swelling go down, okay? I’m hopeful you’ll be seeing us all again in no time. Right now I need you to rest. You’ve just come out of surgery and your body needs to recuperate.”

“Yeah, I am feeling a little tired I guess,” Roy said quietly. Within seconds, he was asleep.

Dixie walked into the doctor’s lounge and was taken aback by the men within it. All seemed to dive towards her, hoping for any information on their friends, but they were silent, waiting for her to speak.

“Roy just came out of surgery about a half hour ago and was talking to Joe in recovery. He’s going to be okay.”

“Thank God,” Hank Stanley spoke first, soon followed with the same sentiments from Mike and Marco. “How about his eyes, Dixie? Is he going to be able to see again?”

Dixie nodded. “It looks good. Joe will probably wait a little while to take the bandages off, but he feels Roy’s going to make a full recovery. At the rate he’s going, he could very well be back at work in a few of weeks.”

“That’s amazing. Great, just great!”

For the first time, the men taking up residence in the doctor’s lounge all smiled. Albeit briefly.

“Dix, how are Johnny and Chet doing?” Mike asked, getting their favorite nurse a cup of coffee.

“So far, so good,” she answered, accepting the coffee as she sat down for a moment at the table closest to the door. ”Joe said he’d be checking on them again and would come down and talk with you guys. Say, why don’t you stretch out here and get a little rest? You’re not going to do Chet and Johnny any good if you pass out from exhaustion before they can even get out of surgery."

“I’m alright,” “I’m okay,” and “I don’t think that’s necessary,” came at her all at once, making her put her hand up in protest to stop their talking.

“Don’t give me that. You three look worse than half of my patients in here.”

“Dix,” the Captain began, kneeling down beside where she sat, “I don’t think we can rest until we hear news on John and Chet. But I promise you, as soon as we know how they are, we’ll catch up, okay?”

“You guys aren’t planning on working tomorrow, I mean today, are you?” she asked, looking at her watch.

“I’ve already called Chief McConnikee and he’s assured me he’ll have our shift replaced for tomorrow and as long as we need it to be,” the Captain answered quickly.

Dixie gave him a weak smile, patting his hand with hers as she stood up. “Okay. I’m going back upstairs to see what I can find out.” Walking towards the door, she turned around and grinned at her friends. “How about at least getting something to eat, okay? What would the other nurses around here say if I had firemen fainting all over the place?”

The men smiled weakly as she left, wishing she could take their worry with her.

Dr. Brackett wiped the sweat from his face while at the same time removing his surgical cap. He was leaning against the recovery room doors, rubbing his eyes when Dixie walked up to him.

“Kel?”

The doctor opened his eyes and grinned at the lady before him.

“How’s Chet?”

“He’s holding his own. His jaw has a small fracture and his pelvis is broken, along with five ribs and his left fibula, but all the breaks were clean. He was bleeding internally right below his sternum, but we got to it in time. Dr. Poling came in there with me and stitched him up while we set his fractures,” he paused briefly to take a deep breath, “took forty-nine stitches.”

“And?”

“And he’s still in a coma. That blunt trauma he got that fractured his jaw also caused some intra-cranial swelling. At least he’s stable for the moment.”

“I’ll go downstairs and let the guys know. I’m sure they’ll be a little bit relieved to hear that.”

“I’m sure,” Brackett answered, pulling himself away from the wall he leaned on reluctantly.

Dixie followed him as he walked across the hall and into the scrub room. Changing out quickly, he redressed in new scrubs and began washing his hands and arms down.

“Kel?”

“I’m going in there with Doctor Jones. He could probably use all the help he can get with Johnny. I know Spencer’s in there and Poling’s probably joined him by now too, but I feel like I should be there, you know?”

She grinned slightly at him, expecting no less. “I know.”

Brackett opened the door to O.R. 4 and stood in amazement. There’s enough doctors in here to field a baseball team. Well, Johnny, if this group can’t put you back together again, then… Dr. Brackett stopped short of finishing the terrible thought.

“Just a bruise, men, thank God, it’s just a bruise.” Dr. Jones was relieved that there weren’t any tears to the heart tissue. A bruise was dangerous enough but given the descriptions that he had heard of Johnny’s Rover and the way the steering wheel had been plunged into his chest, Dr. Jones knew that the paramedic had gotten off relatively easy.

Kel approached the table. “And the cardiac arrest?”

The doctors hadn’t noticed Brackett until he approached them. “A result of all of the trauma. John Gage has been through a helluva lot.”

In a tag-team manner, the doctors surrounding Johnny took turns putting him back together again. Time passed quickly in the operating room and all involved were surprised to find that the multiple surgeries and bone settings had taken over five and a half hours.

Dixie was pacing the hallway outside of the operating room when Kel exited the room.

“Well?”

Kel looked up and smiled. “I don’t know how he does it, Dix. I just don’t know how he does it.” Putting an arm around the nurse, Dr. Brackett headed toward the elevator. “C’mon, Dix, our audience awaits.”

The two rode the elevator in silence. The tension was beginning to fade and exhaustion was setting in.

Kel and Dix were still silent as they entered the doctors’ lounge. Brackett reached up and rubbed his eyes as he passed through the door. Captain Stanley jumped out of his chair, interpreting the doctor’s motion as a bad sign rather than just a sign of fatigue from the man who had ridden to hell and back with Cap’s injured men.

“Kel?” Cap’s voice was shaking again.

Dr. Brackett looked up into the worried face of Hank Stanley. “I think he’ll be okay, Hank.” Looking around the room, Kel’s look reassured the men of 51. “I’ll be damned if I know how he makes it through all the time, but Johnny has made it through again. He’s not 100% out of the woods – I’ll feel better when he regains consciousness – but, damned if he’s not holding his own.”

“How bad is it, Doc?” Mike wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details.

“Contusion to the heart, laceration of the left kidney and the bowel, punctured lung, 14 broken bones if you count the 8 ribs, collar bone, ankle, a couple bones in the foot, one in the hand, and the hairline skull fracture. Sixty-nine stitches.”

“What about his heart, Kel? I mean, when he came in…”

“Dr. Jones determined that it was just a result of all of the trauma, Hank. The direct blow he took to the heart didn’t help matters but all of the injuries together just caused his body to shut down – his heart to stop beating. His BP was good when I left him though. And his pulse is strong and regular. Now it’s just a matter of time.”

“When can we see them, Dr. Brackett?”

“In the morning, Marco.” Looking at his watch, Kelly Brackett shook his head. “I guess I should say a little later this morning, huh? Johnny will be in recovery for a good while yet. I don’t know if Chet has been sent up to ICU yet or if he is still in recovery. Why don’t you guys go home, get some rest, and come back later. Then, I’ll be sure that you get to see all of them.”

Marco and Mike sat back. Both were relieved that their friends looked like they were going to make it. Cap looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s follow the good doctor’s orders and go home for a bit.” Cap put his hand on Dr. Brackett’s shoulder, indicating that he wanted him to hang around until after Mike and Marco left. Cap ushered his two uninjured firemen out the door and then turned back into the lounge.

“They ARE going to be okay, Kel?”

“Yes, Hank, I do believe that they are all going to be okay.”

“And, they’ll be able to return to service?”

Kel paused, running the list of injuries through his mind. “Of course, it all depends on what happens when they are fully conscious, but I don’t believe any of the head injuries will cause permanent damage. That is the only true unknown at this point. Roy has to get his sight back. And, Chet worries me – from all accounts, he is the only one who never regained consciousness at any point. But, my medical training, the consultations with the other doctors, and my gut all tell me that yes, they will all return to service. Not soon. But eventually.”

“Thanks, Kel. I know that doesn’t seem like much. But, thanks.” Hank paused, looking first at the doctor, then to the floor, then back to the doctor - an unspoken question on his face.

“You’re welcome. And, yes, I’ll let you see them before you leave.” Kel smiled at Hank.

Cap quietly opened the door to Roy’s room. The light coming through the window illuminated the room enough to make Cap stop and pause. You may not be in ICU, Pal, but you sure as hell look like that’s where you belong.

In a very quiet voice, Cap offered his support to Roy.

“I’m here, Roy. We’re all here for you. You’re going to be okay. All of you will. Chet and Johnny are out of surgery and holding their own.”

Cap stood looking at his senior paramedic for a few moments longer. “I’ll see you in a few hours. And, I know that you will see me, too. I believe that.”

Cap turned and left the room. Roy fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

“Just a couple minutes with Chet, Hank.”

Captain Stanley nodded to Kelly Brackett and entered Chet’s ICU unit. He gasped at the sight of the man before him. Chet’s face was one massive bruise. It was so swollen that if he hadn’t been told that that was Chet laying there, he wasn’t sure he’d have recognized him.

Cap’s eyes wandered from Chet to the numerous monitors that he was hooked up to.

“Hey, Pal, helluva way to get out of latrine duty. I saw Roy – he’s doing well. Dr. Brackett assures me Johnny is doing well, too. I’m going to see him in a minute or two.” Cap momentarily put his hand on Chet’s shoulder. “You hang on, Chet, you’re going to be just fine too. I’ll be back in awhile. I’ve got to go check on Jo…on your pigeon.”

“Johnny’s still in recovery, Hank. Sorry, but you won’t really be alone with him.”

“That’s okay, Kel, I appreciate your letting me see him.”

Kel nodded his understanding – he knew that Cap had to see his men before he left. And, he knew that Johnny, Chet, and Roy needed to know that Cap was there as well.

Cap was taken aback at the sight of Johnny, too. The brighter lighting of the recovery room didn’t mask any of Johnny’s injuries. Cap brushed aside his fearful thoughts and approached Johnny’s side.

“Hey, Pal, just so you know, your next request for time off for a fishing trip has been denied.” Cap moved a bit closer. “You hang in there, Johnny. Chet and Roy are hanging in there – you need to, too.”

Cap felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Dr. Brackett beside him. “C’mon, Hank, time for you to go get some rest.”

Hank turned back to Johnny. “I’ll be back soon, Pal. I’ll be back soon.”

Hank Stanley drove through the streets admiring the early morning traffic. At almost four o’clock in the morning, there was hardly a soul out there with him, making the drive somewhat peaceful.

He noticed he was admiring a whole lot of things right now, enjoying the sights around him, feeling almost overjoyed with everything. It wasn’t the scenery. It was the fact that his friends were alive. And they were going to stay that way.

All he wanted to do right now was go home and hug his wife. Knowing her, she probably had his dinner waiting for him, no matter how late it was. That thought made his face widen with a grin. Yes, he was actually hungry now.

He rolled the window down on his side of the car and inhaled the cool air deeply as he continued his drive.

Gone now were the visions of his bloodied men being rushed into the emergency room. Gone now was the fear that they’d never make it through their surgeries. Gone now was all the anxiety and worry that tore through him the past eight and a half hours.

He felt at ease now, finally. He closed his eyes for only a moment, savoring the luck his crew had continued to keep within their grasp. They were much more than just his crew, they were family.

He didn’t realize just how drained and tired he’d become. But his weary body told on him – keeping it’s hold on the closed eyes as the engine’s hum lulled him to sleep. When the car veered off of the road, he didn’t notice. So much more exhausted than anyone had realized, he felt nothing until the car jumped a small ditch, landing itself into a tree with an abrupt halt.

“Nice to have you back with us again, Hank. You know, when you said you’d be seeing me soon I didn’t think you’d be this quick to return,” Dr. Brackett grinned, looking at the bleary-eyes that tried to focus on him.

“Wha … what the hell is going on here?” Captain Stanley was confused, and his confusion made him a bit testy.

Kel Brackett stood over him, flashing the penlight in Hank’s eyes, then stood up a little as his right index finger suddenly appeared in front of the Captain’s face. “Follow my finger with your eyes, Hank. No, don’t move your head, just your eyes. That’s it. Good.” He straightened himself in front of the gurney and folded his arms across his chest.

“Okay, Hank. Why don’t you tell me what you remember happening, okay?”

The Captain rolled his eyes, expressing his irritability. Finally he sighed. “I don’t know.”

Kel looked at Dixie with concern before returning his gaze back to Hank. “Well, tell me what you remember last, okay?”

“Uh, I remember you telling me that it looked like the guys were going to pull through, and, well, I remember seeing them and then heading home.” He brought his hand to his aching forehead and immediately was surprised to find the bandage covering a third of it. “Either my wife got really mad at me for coming home so late or I didn’t make it home, right Doc?”

“You didn’t make it home, Hank. It looks like you fell asleep at the wheel. Now you’re going to be a guest here for at least the next twenty-four hours.”

“Aww, c’mon Doc – I’m okay.”

The portable x-ray unit was being wheeled in as Brackett began answering him. “You’ve been unconscious for over an hour Hank. You’re not out of the woods yet. Now you just relax a few minutes and let this young man here take the pictures, and then we’ll discuss your limited options.”

Hank rolled his eyes, then nodded his agreement when he noticed the stern look Dixie was giving him. She smiled, patting his shoulder before she left the room with the good doctor.

Once outside of treatment room three, the first thing Kel and Dixie noticed was the two figures standing across from the room.

“Hey Doc, how’s Cap?” Marco asked, standing beside Mike as both leaned on the wall behind them.

“He’ll be fine. I think he’s got a mild concussion, and I just put in six stitches above his right eyebrow, but he’ll be fine I think. It sure didn’t take long for you two to get back. How’d you find out?”

“Dwyer called us,” Mike answered, “it kind of shook him up, responding to a call with a car wrapped around a tree only to find Cap there inside it.”

“Yeah, I guess it did,” Dixie began, “He was already upset when they’d come in here after responding to calls, trying to get more information on the rest of the guys in here. Did either of you get any sleep yet?”

Both firemen shook their heads negatively.

“How’re the guys doing?”

“They’re doing good and resting comfortably,” Dr. Brackett began, “which is what you two should be doing – and will. Even if I have to have you both admitted – I’m not having a repeat of Hank’s performance – do I make myself clear?”

Both men nodded their agreement as Dr. Brackett continued his orders.

“As soon as you see Hank, which I know you won’t rest until you do, you’re going in my office. A few hours sleep and I’ll stop ranting – got it?”

Again, the men nodded, and Steve, the x-ray technician on duty, came out of the treatment room with his equipment.

Mike and Marco looked at Kel, who nodded, letting them go in and see their Captain.

Once Dixie and Kel were alone in the hallway, Dixie folded her arms and stared at her tired friend.

“Well, Doctor, I think you need to take your own advice. You came on duty at three o’clock yesterday afternoon. Your shift is long over. How about getting some sleep?”

Brackett eyed the lady in front of him. “I believe I can say the same of you, since you came on duty the same time I did. I’ll tell you what, how about we get Hank admitted and upstairs and then we can crash in the lounge for a while.”

“I think I’m too tired to argue with you, Kel,” Dixie answered with a grin, “just let me check on Johnny and Roy and Chet first, okay?”

Station 51’s A shift had been stood down for the next three days while it’s crew began healing. Mike and Marco had volunteered to return to duty two days after the accident, but Chief McConnikee could see the weariness of the men and declined their offer. He wanted them to be well rested before going back to work, knowing their minds could not fully be on their duties at this time.

The Chief had been deluged with men volunteering to run A shift until all it’s men were fully recovered. All had felt the pain of almost losing three of their brothers, and all were willing to give their time until things could be back to normal.

The only problem was that forty-eight hours later, Chet still had not regained consciousness.

Johnny had been moved from the ICU into Roy’s room, putting both men a little at ease knowing the other was really going to be okay. He’d arrived just as Dr. Early was removing the bandages from Roy’s eyes. Joe had timed this purposely, feeling confident that other than him, the first sight Roy would see would be that of his wife and his best friend.

Roy’s eyesight was practically back to normal, the swelling behind his optical nerves gone down remarkably well. Both paramedics were elated beyond words, and Joanne cried tears of happiness; relief flooding through her beyond her control.

Captain Stanley came in often to visit them, released only the day before from his own admission, but mainly stayed with Chet in the ICU as much as the staff would allow. His wife understood – she always did. These men were as much his family as she was.

Mike and Marco also visited with their friends regularly, even sitting without saying a word when the pain medication allowed Roy and Johnny some rest. Each had to take turns sitting with Chet, and both prayed for their friend to pull through. Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early both agreed that the longer it took for him to become conscious, the worse the scenario would be.

It was almost evening time when Hank returned from a brief visit home to go to the ICU.

Walking slowly into Chet’s room, he noted to himself that nothing looked different about the fireman. Damn he thought to himself, this just can’t be good.

He sat down beside Chet, making as little noise as possible as he scooted the chair next to the bed.

Sitting in the vinyl chair, he scrunched his face involuntarily as the chair loudly complained of his weight, squeaking and groaning.

He was so tired. Not thinking, he pulled his hand up to rest his head on, placing it directly on the bandage covering his stitches.

“Dammit,” he mumbled, touching lightly where he’d hurt himself.

“Loud.”

The Captain looked towards the doorway, wondering just who the smart ass was that was stating the obvious. There was no one there.

“Hurts.”

Hank stood up immediately, looking down on the only other person in the room with him at the moment.

“Chet?”

Chet lay still, not a muscle in his body twitching and none of the monitor’s beeping sounded differently either, making Cap think he was losing it.

Hank Stanley sat back down, heavily sighing his discouragement.

“Too loud.”

This time the Captain had not taken his eyes off from the fireman. Though barely visible, he did see Chet’s lips part slightly.

Jumping up from the chair and knocking it over backwards in his haste, Hank was practically on top of Chet, grabbing the call button as his face split open wide in a huge smile.

“Chet! Chet buddy! You’re back with us!”

“And you’re too loud, Cap.” Chet’s words were slurred, his mouth only working partially while he tried to speak, but Hank understood everything and laughed.

“Oh thank God,” he praised aloud, still smiling.

“What happened, Cap? What’s, what’s going on?”

“You were in a real bad accident, Pal, but you’re going to be okay now – I promise you that.”

Mike and Marco rushed in behind Dr. Early when they saw him walking quickly towards Chet’s room. They were waiting their turns to go see him when they saw the doctor stop what he was doing and head straight for the room.

Dr. Early smiled when he walked in, seeing Chet’s eyes open as Captain Stanley stood over him. Mike and Marco soon noticed their friend was awake and were also grinning ear to ear.

“Nice of you to join us, Chet,” Dr. Early spoke softly as he began examining his patient, “how are you feeling?”

“Hurts,” Chet said, still groggy. Suddenly the fireman’s eyes flew open as memories of being hit head-on began flooding through him like a tidal wave. “Johnny! Roy! Oh no, they were there, I remember! I heard someone say they were dead – somebody died!”

“No Chet, no – calm down, will ya pal? They are both here at Rampart. Okay?”

“No,” Chet began, his aching jaw and other pains now replaced with sorrow. “They’re dead, aren’t they? You’re just trying to cover it up so I won’t feel bad.”

“Chet?” Dr. Early began, “you know I wouldn’t lie to you, don’t you? And I’m telling you, Roy and John are doing remarkably well. Do you understand me? They are alive.”

Chet seemed to digest the information he’d been given for a moment before his facial expression showed his relief.

“Good. Remind me to never go on another fishing trip with Gage ever again,” he said, trying his best to smile for his friends.

Everyone began laughing, their relief very evident that all this tragedy was about to become a thing of the past.

Captain Hank Stanley stood at the station door and greeted the men as they arrived for their shift. The last man – Johnny, of course – arrived and Cap was grinning from ear to ear.

“Glad we’re all together again, men. It’s been way too long.” Cap couldn’t have been happier.

Everyone gathered in the dayroom trading jubilant greetings.

“Can we join the party?” Dixie walked in holding a huge box of donuts. Kelly Brackett and Joe Early were at her sides, each holding a gallon of milk.

“Let me help you with those, Dix.” Johnny almost knocked his chair over getting up to get to the donuts. While Dixie stood, still holding the box, Johnny opened the lid and took 2 out.

“Gage!” Chet shook his head.

“What? Oh, yeah, sorry Dix.” Johnny put one donut in his mouth and grabbed the box with his free hand.

Dixie rolled her eyes as the room broke out in laughter.

It wasn’t long before more surprise visitors showed up.

“Dr. Frick! Nurse Peterson!! What are you doing here?” Johnny was thrilled to see that Nurse Peterson had her hands full as well. “Those wouldn’t be more of those wonderful cookies you brought last time, would they? You know, the ones you made for me…umm, us…when I was in the hospital?”

“Yes they are, Mr. Gage.” Mrs. Peterson held the platter of cookies out to the handsome paramedic.

“Can I help you with that cooler, Dr. Frick?” Captain Stanley was only too happy to help out the person who had administered the initial aid to his men – the person who ensured that they at least had a chance to make it to Rampart.

“Thanks, Captain.” Dr. Frick held the cooler out to Cap. “I figured that since these guys never seem to bring any fish back to you guys, I’d go ahead and bring you a cooler full myself.”

“Fish? That cooler is full of fish?” Cap changed the motion of his hands – what started out as a reach to get the cooler ended up looking more like a surrender with both hands up in the air. “No, no way. No fish. No way. Uh-uh.”

Mike came to the rescue. “Thanks, Dr. Frick. I’ll take the cooler and put it out in the engine bay for now.” Reaching for the cooler, Mike leaned towards Dr. Frick. “Don’t ask.” Mike and the doctor traded brief smiles. As did everyone else in the room – everyone that is except Cap.

Dr. Frick looked around the room and shook his head in amazement. “It is GREAT to see the three of you up and… well, quite honestly, alive.”

Everyone in the room stood in thankful reflection as Nurse Peterson began making her rounds. Looking at Johnny, who held the platter in one hand and a cookie in the other, she commented, “Mr. Gage, you do look well. I’m glad to see it.”

She turned and walked over to Roy. Looking in his eyes, she said, “And you seem to have recovered very nicely too, Mr. DeSoto. Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm. You sure gave me a fright when I saw you laying there on the pavement.”

Looking around the room, Mrs. Peterson spotted a fireman with dark hair and a mustache. She walked up to Marco and kind of squinted in puzzlement. “You are looking very good, too, young man.”

“Spfftt.’ John Gage spit his last gulp of milk between his smiling lips before breaking into outright laughter.

Chet’s mouth dropped open. Shaking his head and with utter disbelief in his voice, Chet approached the kindly old nurse. “Mrs. Peterson, do you remember me?”

Mrs. Peterson looked at Chet with the same look that she had given Marco. “No, not really.”

“The back seat? I was the guy in the back seat.”

“Well…I know I remember there was someone else.”

The End

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E51Writer Julie H

Stories by E51Writer Guest Dispatchers’