Testing Time
No shift was allowed to take the squad apart during duty, of course; a call could come in at any minute, and they had to be ready to roll at all times. But it didn't keep the more automotive minded of the paramedics from fiddling with the engine, tightening, cleaning, and generally improving their baby to the best it could be.
And the quiet, late fall morning seemed just the right time for it. With Engine 51 out backing up on a big fire and all the morning/breakfast chores completed, there was little else to do,
anyway. And so Roy DeSoto had disappeared under the opened hood and only John Gage's legs were left visible from underneath the truck as the two paramedics tinkered in comfortable silence.
Or at least mostly silence, as Johnny's annoyed mutterings filtered out occasionally from down below.
"Something wrong?" Roy asked from above, his voice muffled to Johnny's ears.
"Naw," Johnny grumbled, "I just wonder sometimes what the other shifts do with the squad while we're gone. You wouldn't believe all the mud and...grr, a branch!...that's caked up underneath here! It's like they ran her through muddy fields or something."
"Maybe they did. We've had to do that a few times ourselves."
Johnny grimaced out of sight. Sometimes he sincerely wished his partner wasn't so reasonable. It took a lot of the fun out of complaining. "Yeah, well..."
"Like remember that time when we had to answer that call at that ranch and there wasn't any road up to the--”
"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Johnny cut him off impatiently. "All I’m saying is, they could take the time to clean her up afterward."
"Uh-huh," Roy said calmly.
Johnny frowned again as he pulled another twig out. He knew Roy was not so much agreeing with him as just not arguing, a popular ploy of his partner's, but no matter. Not arguing was almost agreeing, wasn't it?
"Say, Johnny..."
"Yeah?" Was that a rock embedded in the dirt? For Pete's sake, what had the other shift done with the squad?
"Engineer's test is coming up again next week."
Johnny abruptly forgot about the rock. That was an unpleasant turn of conversation that had come out of the blue. "Yeah?" he called out cautiously.
"Well, remember how we said for sure this year?"
Gage poked absently at the mud caked on the undercarriage, wishing suddenly that he could see his partner's face. "You thinkin' about it?" he asked, going for a flip tone. It wouldn't do to make too big a deal of the whole thing because Roy tended to clam up at the first sign of disagreement.
"Well, I've been givin' it some thought and--"
The klaxon sounded. "Squad 51. Man trapped, 2391 Summerville. 2391 Summerville. Cross street, Grant. Time out--10:06."
Johnny immediately began squirming to extract himself from underneath the squad, hearing his partner slam the hood down above him. What lousy timing. He didn't know what would be worse, finding out what Roy was thinking or waiting in dread to hear. Not that it mattered that much to Johnny, of course. Breaking in a new partner was more trouble than he cared for, was all. But still...
Ten seconds later, he'd moved the tool box away from in front of the squad and was already grabbing his helmet and climbing in the passenger side. Roy had gone to answer the radio call and
followed him in on the driver's side, keying the bay door open as he did. After years of experience, they had the routine down to practiced seconds.
They rode to calls mostly in silence, each man preparing for the job ahead. For his own part, Johnny was a little surprised that a man trapped only required the squad--an engine was often needed for freeing people caught in different situations, but then, dispatch knew more than they did, and they'd made the decision. As for Roy and the engineer's exam...well, there'd be time to deal with that later.
Pulling up to the site of a call usually didn't reveal the problem, the victim typically being somewhere in the house or the backyard. That wasn't the case this time. Johnny found himself staring even as he got out and went around to the side to grab the drug box and portable phone. Nor did he have even the vaguest idea this time of what had been--foolishly--going through the
victim's mind to possibly get him in that predicament.
The man, unquestionably their trapped victim, was hanging upside-down two stories off the ground, tangled in a thick rope that was attached at the eave of the third-story roof. It was a toss-up who seemed more distressed, the man as he swung with every movement, rigid and white, or the woman who paced anxiously in the yard below him.
Catching sight of the paramedics only seemed to get her more excited. "Oh, thank God you're here. Please get him down before he falls! He's gonna kill himself up there!" She latched on to Gage's arm with teary panic, trying to pull him along faster, but only succeeding in nearly upsetting his balance. "Please! You've gotta help him."
"Yes, ma'am, we'll get him down," Johnny soothed. "Uh, how did he get up there?"
"Well, he was trying to clean the upstairs windows, and he tied that rope around his waist and came down from the roof, but suddenly he started hollering, and when I got out here, he was like this! I told him not to try it but he never listens. Please, help him."
"Does that window open from the inside?" Roy asked her, pointing to the window the man was swinging in front of.
"Um, yes. Do you want me to show you up there?"
"Please." Roy sounded patient on the surface, as unflappable as he usually seemed, but Johnny could hear the forced calm in his voice. But that was part of partnership, right, knowing your partner well enough to see what others didn't? It was part of what made them such a good team.
"This way." Apparently reassured by the opportunity to do something, the woman let go of Johnny and went inside. Johnny exchanged glances with his partner. Whatever else their job was, it wasn't boring.
The window in question turned out to be an attic window, and it did indeed slide all the way up with ease. Only then could they hear the victim, apparently mumbling a prayer as he hung
haphazardly a foot away from the side of the house. Johnny stifled a sympathetic smile; it was a classic response.
"Hang on, Larry," the woman called anxiously.
Roy turned to Johnny. "You want to go up on the roof?"
"Uh-huh." He was usually the one who actively tackled the heights when only one of them had to go. It had never stopped his partner in a rescue before, but DeSoto wasn't that comfortable with heights and Johnny knew it.
Five minutes later, they had Larry down and inside the house to safety. Johnny climbed off the roof and returned to the attic, cheeks flushed with running and the effort of slowly lowering the man as his waiting partner reeled him in. By the time he got there, Larry was already sitting on the floor, holding the woman's hand and looking dazed while Roy checked him over.
"He okay?" Gage asked Roy sotto voce, eyeing the man uncertainly. The victim hadn't seemed injured, just frozen scared, and Roy was already putting away the BP cuff.
"Yeah, he's fine. Aren't you, Larry?" The last Roy said louder, bending over to try to meet the man's eyes.
"Uh, yeah, uh...I think so. Bette, I couldn't get down." He craned up to look at the woman. "The ground was swinging back and forth and back and--"
"There, there, sweetie, it's all right now." Bette patted his cheek.
Roy glanced at him and Johnny shook his head. Their job was done. Without a word, they collected their equipment and left the couple to each other.
Roy was still swallowing a smile as they headed back to the station. "Lowering himself off the roof to clean his windows. I guess he'll think twice before trying to save time that way again."
Sometimes seeing the humor was the only way to deal with the inherent stupidity of some of the calls they received.
"I wouldn't bet on it," Johnny answered distractedly, more important things on his mind. "Say, Roy," he looked at his partner, "uh, what were you going to say about the engineer's exam back at the station?"
DeSoto suddenly seemed awfully intent on driving, flexing his hands on the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. "Well, nothing exactly, just that it was coming up and I was thinking of
taking it again."
Johnny played with a loose thread on his pants’ seam, also avoiding eye contact. It wouldn't do to seem too anxious. Taking the exam didn't mean getting promoted, right? "And if you pass? You gonna take the promotion this time?"
A pause. "I don't know."
Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Déja vu. Roy had been similarly torn the year before, tempted by the promotion and the pay raise involved while at the same time reluctant to leave the paramedic work he loved. And, just maybe, his partner of several years, Johnny hoped.
"What do you think?" Roy suddenly asked him.
They were already pulling up into the still-empty station, and Gage fidgeted again, not really wanting to have this conversation even if he'd been the one to bring it up. "Oh, I don't know," he said lightly, "wouldn't hurt to take the exam first and then decide, right? I mean, you might not even pass."
Roy parked the truck and removed the key, only then turning to give Johnny a look. Not pass--yeah, right. They both knew how unlikely that was. "Uh-huh," was all he said before he climbed out of the squad. Not arguing again. Johnny winced to himself, his stomach uneasy at the whole topic.
Five minutes later, the gear was stowed and they were back to work on the warm engine, Roy once again under the hood and Johnny underneath. But somehow the silence wasn't nearly as
comfortable as before.
*****
Two more calls went by before the return of Engine 51, neither of them sterling arguments for the importance of their work, Johnny thought with a silent glower. The first had been as ridiculous as its predecessor, a woman who had crawled under the porch after her cat and had managed to get herself stuck. And the second had been one of the kind Gage dreaded, high risk with no payoff. Climbing out onto a beam to "rescue" what turned out to be a transplanted scarecrow, not a jumper, wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd signed on for the job.
It wasn't the calls so much that got to him, though, for the duds came along with the genuine emergencies, and Johnny had long accepted that as part of the job, even laughed over it. What had changed now was that he was seeing them through his partner's eyes, wondering suddenly just what being a paramedic had to offer that could rival a pay raise and a promotion. That day at least, it didn't seem like a whole lot.
Johnny wasn't worried, naturally. He would still get to do the job he loved. It was just...he and Roy worked together so well, it sure made sense for them to stay partners. Having to figure out again all the stuff that came naturally to them now--well, there just didn't seem to be any point.
And so his mood had plunged progressively with each job. DeSoto, either waiting out Johnny's temporary sourness like he often did, or maybe figuring its cause and not knowing what to say, had kept silent. It was all making for an awfully quiet shift.
The hotdogs were just beginning to boil, Gage's cooking venture du jour, when the sound of the bay door opening announced the return of Engine 51. He listened idly, turning the hotdogs and watching the ripe skins split, as the firefighters bantered amongst themselves and with Roy, still out working on the squad. It wasn't just their partnership that Roy fit so easily into--their whole shift had become a team. DeSoto couldn’t stay on with them if he were promoted. Johnny shook his head at the hotdogs. It just wasn't right somehow.
The voices separated and shifted, the loudest of the bunch leading the way into the common kitchen/lounge area, and Gage stifled a groan of recognition.
"Well, if it isn't our intrepid chef. And what culinary delights have you prepared today?" Chet Kelly's cheerful tone was as condescending as ever.
Johnny's scowl deepened as the stocky fireman leaned past him to peer into the pot. "Go away, Chet," he muttered darkly.
"Hotdogs?" Disgust replaced the teasing. "All this time you guys were takin' it easy while we were out there workin' our tails off, and all you could fix was hotdogs?"
"We were out on calls, too" Johnny said, voice defensive, stepping in front of the man to block his view of the stove.
"Oh, yeah? Anything interesting?"
"Not unless you call a woman stuck under her porch and a dummy about to commit suicide, interesting." That was Roy, following the men in from the bay.
Chet turned back to Johnny, his eyes lighting up. "A dummy? We were out fighting a two-block fire while you were saving a dummy?" He wasn't trying very hard to bottle his laughter as he patted Gage's shoulder in mock sympathy. "Poor guy, you must be worn out. No wonder you couldn't summon the energy for anything besides hotdogs."
"Chet..." Johnny's voice was positively lethal.
"Better lay off him, Chet, he might poison your food." Marco passed them with a grin, snagging an apple off the counter as he went.
"With Gage's cooking, who could tell?" And Chet made good his escape before Johnny put the fork in his hand to good use.
"Don't mind him, Gage--after working at that fire for four hours, we're so hungry, we'll eat anything," Captain Stanley consoled, clapping Johnny on the arm. "You want us to set the table, pal?"
The klaxon went off. "Squad 51, woman fainted, Robertson Loan Company, 401 Wilshire. 401 Wilshire. Cross street, Coronado. Time out--12:33."
"Guess you will have to set the table, Cap," Johnny said, pulling his apron off and tossing it on the counter. "Save us some food, guys, willya?"
"Sure, Johnny. Who knows, eating it cold might even help the taste," Chet chimed in.
Roy dragged his foaming-at-the-mouth partner by one arm out of the room and to the squad.
"That Chet's gonna find himself laughing out of the other side of his face one of these days," Johnny muttered as he climbed in the squad and smacked his helmet on.
"Don't let him get to ya," Roy soothed, starting up the squad. He leaned over to take the piece of paper with the address the Cap reached in through the window. "You ready?"
It was an unnecessary question--he was already pulling out of the station as he asked--but it gave Johnny a chance to cool. "Yeah," he drawled unwillingly. Putting aside your feelings for the sake of a call was something he'd mastered a long time ago. His partner knew it, too, just as he knew Johnny would calm down easier with the chance to vent. Come to think of it, Roy knew him about as well as anyone ever had. The thought made Johnny wince and slouch lower into his seat.
The first sign of trouble was the police cars visible two blocks away. They were lined up, Johnny quickly realized, in front of the loan company they'd been called out to. He straightened, glancing both ways, seeing the cops who hung back only on the far side of their cars, the sidewalk in front of them suspiciously clear of pedestrians. Gage frowned.
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Roy asked quietly beside him, slowing the squad as they got close.
Johnny nodded. "Yup." Their victim had probably had good cause to faint.
A familiar policeman came up to Roy's side of the squad, and DeSoto quickly rolled his window down.
"Listen, guys, we've got a hostage situation going down in there, a man with a gun and a couple of hostages, and all we've been able to get out of the guy so far is that one of the hostages fainted. He'll let in two paramedics, he said, but no equipment. It's your call--you wanna go for it?"
Roy glanced back at Johnny, but it was only for a cursory check. They both knew what the other's answer would be. "That's what we're here for," he told the policeman, turning back to him.
"All right. You want to pull your squad into there?" He indicated a nearby alley.
Roy did, and both of them got out, Gage resisting the urge to fetch the drug boxes. Going in without them was a handicap, but they still had the advantage of their training. It could mean the victim's life, and that was worth risking theirs for.
A different policeman came up to them, sergeant's bars on his arm. "Pete says you two are going in. We can't stop you, but be careful, this guy seems like a real loose cannon. One false step
and he could go off."
Johnny nodded, sensing his partner do the same beside him. Just another day at the job, huh? He rubbed his sweat-damp hands on his pants leg. Roy was just as tense next to him, but still
managing to exude that calm that worked so well on anxious victims. Maybe it would help with their gunman, too. If anyone could get him to relax, Johnny was willing to bet his partner could.
It was an eerie feeling, crossing the deserted sidewalk to the loan company's tinged glassfront. At the door, DeSoto stopped, glancing back at him with a silent "ready?" Johnny nodded. Roy pushed the door open slowly, then stepped in and to one side, making way for Gage.
The lobby had been darkened to better see out the tinted glass, and Johnny had to squint a minute before things clarified. It was a familiar, naked feeling, going in headfirst without knowing
the scene. Even more so when his vision sharpened on the gun that was trained on them and the scowling man who held it.
The man was tall and muscular, dressed in an old flannel shirt and jeans, and looked more an outdoorsman than someone at home in a business, seeming very familiar with handling a gun. Behind him, Johnny counted five people cowering on the floor along the wall, all their eyes on the man. Gage wondered briefly why they didn't tackle the gunman from behind, then paused to consider if he'd have the courage to do that himself.
"You the paramedics?" the man growled, voice deep and gritty and with a cold edge that immediately sent a crawl of unease up Johnny's back.
"Yessir," he answered evenly nevertheless. “You said you had a woman who fainted?”
The man's dark eyes squinted at him. "First things first. Get out of those coats."
They weren't wearing their turnout coats, only their paramedic jackets, but Johnny obeyed without question, Roy doing the same beside him. They dropped them both into a heap on the floor.
"Good. Now turn around with your hands in the air. I wanna make sure you ain't armed."
They obeyed again, Roy offering, "We're not armed, we're paramedics. We help people."
"Yeah, that's what you say." They'd finished turning once and his narrowed eyes relaxed a little. "All right. The woman's back here." The gun flicked once behind him and to the right.
Roy led the way, Johnny eyeing the man as they passed within a yard of him, the gun tracking them as they went. Up close, his eyes were frightening, sane and intelligent but devoid of warmth. Sociopathic eyes, Johnny knew from unwelcome experience, even more dangerous than the insane. The policeman had been right; one wrong word would probably make the guy lash out, and if he did, they'd have a lot more victims to deal with.
Roy was already kneeling next to the woman, who lay now with her eyes open but staring blankly forward. She couldn't have been more than his age, Johnny speculated, with riotous brunette curls framing her now too-pale face. "Ma'am, can you hear me?" Roy asked. "I'm going to take your pulse." He reached for her wrist.
Gage was ready for her violent flinch, gently catching her as she scooted back. "Now, now, it's okay, we're not gonna hurt you, we just want to check you out. We're paramedics."
"What?" She gazed wildly back and forth between them. "What?"
"We're paramedics," DeSoto repeated. "We won't hurt you, we just want to make sure you're okay."
"I..." She suddenly caught sight of the gunman towering behind Roy and shrank back against Johnny, beginning to sob. "He...he threatened t-to shoot anybody wh-who moved."
"It's okay," Johnny held her a little awkwardly, glancing over her shoulder at Roy as he petted her hair. Roy had hold of her wrist and mouthed 90 to Gage. "You're okay now," Johnny said, nodding. "Just take it easy."
“Respiration’s good,” Roy noted behind them, then smiled kindly at the girl as she turned to look at him uncertainly. “You’re doing fine, Miss. How do you feel?”
"She's okay," the man, silently glaring at them until then, suddenly spoke. "Why don'tcha check out that other guy while you're here?"
They both followed his direction to see a man several feet away with his tie loosened, leaning against the low wall and also looking like he was about to pass out.
"I'll take care of it," Roy murmured, and slid away from Johnny and the girl.
Johnny watched as his partner checked out the man, still rocking the girl, who'd finally gone silent. When she pulled back from him, he let her, transferring his attention back to her.
"You okay now?"
She sniffed and nodded, rubbing her eyes on her sleeve. Even with her make-up smeared, she was rather attractive and it was no trouble for Johnny to smile convincingly at her.
"Can I check you out?" He waited again for her nod, then proceeded to go through pulse, respirations, and as good a onceover as he could do without any equipment, then back to her pulse again. Eighty-five first, then seventy-seven. He smiled at her. "What's your name?"
"Jessica Spencer." She was still hiccuping a little from crying.
"Jessica, I think you're gonna be just fine," he said reassuringly. With the volatile situation, some shock certainly seemed understandable. "We were told you fainted, is that right?"
She nodded again. "I-I'm okay. I just...faint sometimes when I get too nervous." Jessica's lovely blue eyes were huge and fixed on the gunman as he prowled watchfully between the two
paramedics. "He came in and--"
"That's enough," the man growled, punctuating the command with a wave of the gun. Jessica shrank back even as the man addressed Gage. "She’s okay--why don't you go join your buddy."
Johnny patted Jessica on the arm, offering her a last friendly smile. "It's gonna be all right. I'll just be right over there, all right?"
It was a little hesitant, but he got a nod. Satisfied, he left her and crawled over to DeSoto with a glance at their captor as he went.
Up close, the second victim looked even worse than he had before, white and trembling, his face bathed in sweat. He looked to be about forty, a little young for a man having a heart attack, but Johnny had seen far stranger things. "MI?" he asked his partner softly.
Roy shook his head. "Low blood sugar, I think," he whispered back. "He's a diabetic."
Johnny winced. They could treat that temporarily on-scene even without their gear provided someone had some food on them, but a hospital visit would be much better. Of course, not being held hostage in the first place would have been best of all.
Roy climbed to his feet and turned toward the gunman. "This man's a diabetic and he's going into insulin shock. We need to get him to a hospital."
"Uh-uh," the man shook his head once. "Nobody's going anywhere."
"Look," Ray stretched his hands to both sides, both placating and non-threatening. "I'll stay here in his place. Just let my partner get him out of here and get him some help." He was in front of the gunman now, only feet away, his voice low and calming. Gage watched his partner's back, feeling wound like a spring, ready to act in a second if the situation shifted. He wasn’t happy about Roy's offer, but that was part of their job, too. Or rather, part of the man Roy DeSoto was.
"I said no," the man snapped. "Not until I get what I want."
"What do you want?" Roy asked reasonably. "The police outside don't even know. Maybe if you told them--”
"GERALD OLIVER! THIS IS THE POLICE. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" The bellowing police loudspeaker from outside made Johnny flinch.
The effect on Oliver was even stronger.
It just happened so fast, like so many things in their job. Johnny had been ready for it and still he was helpless to act. One minute Oliver was standing facing Roy with his gun pointed at
the paramedic, the next he'd grabbed DeSoto and was jerking him toward the door. Johnny half-rose to follow, reacting instinctively to the threat to his partner, but a wave of Oliver's gun stopped him short. So did Roy's expression.
Oliver planted himself by the door, his arm going to pin Roy against him as a shield, holding the smaller man easily in place. DeSoto wasn't fighting him, just as they'd been trained, trying not to make a bad situation worse, and with a look he warned Gage to do the same.
"How’d you find out my name?" Oliver yelled out the door. "Stupid cops, think you've got me cornered, don'tcha?"
"GIVE IT UP, OLIVER, BEFORE ANYONE GETS HURT. WE DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO COME IN AND GET YOU."
The sneer that lit Oliver's face chilled Johnny to the bone. "Just try it," the gunman hollered, and slipped his arm up against DeSoto's neck, tightening his hold as he did.
Choking him.
Roy’s eyes never left Johnny’s face, terrified, trying to stay calm even as he fought to breathe.
No, no, no. Gage jumped to his feet despite the fierce look Oliver gave him, heart pounding erratically enough that it was probably doing PVCs, but it didn't matter. Things were spinning out of control too fast. The world had just narrowed itself down to his partner and the madman who was slowly choking the life out of him.
Johnny gulped, moving closer as urgently as he could without spooking the man further. "Let go, you're killing him!"
Oliver drew himself up, his grasp on Roy not loosening. The paramedic's face was reddening and he'd begun to struggle but weakly, oxygen-starved. Usually Gage drew on his partner’s placidity to keep himself calm, but he had to be the rational one now, and Johnny gritted his teeth, looking away from his partner as Roy stared at him with silent panic, hands uselessly fumbling at Oliver. Johnny knew he could read his partner's every thought from his eyes, and he couldn’t afford the distraction.
He stood there instead, frozen, only a few feet from his suffocating partner, scared of Oliver only for Roy’s sake now. "Look," the words tumbled out desperately, "we just came here t'help. We're not a threat to you, but you kill him and you've got a murder rap for sure. Just...let him go."
Roy’s skin was tinged blue, eyes beginning to roll back. Johnny was finding it hard to breathe, too. He'd never been this down-to-the-bone afraid before, not even when he'd thought himself dying, of the plague, of the snakebite--what was it about this job? The thought struck with sudden anger. Roy had been right to want out; Johnny himself would make the older man get the promotion if he had to. If they survived this.
"Please, just let him go." He would beg without shame if it would mean his partner’s life. "I'll talk to the cops outside--maybe they'll listen to me. But only if you let him go."
Oliver's eyes were narrowed, calculating, frigid, nowhere near Gage's definition of human. "You're just saying that to save him."
Johnny would have let out a laugh at that if he wasn't afraid he'd choke on it. DeSoto wasn't moving any longer, limp and completely cyanotic in Oliver's grasp. "Yeah, I want him to be okay, but I’ll keep my word. I wanna get out of here, too." He dared to creep a bit closer. "But they won't listen to any of us if you kill him."
Oliver frowned at him, uncertain.
Roy showed no sign of life. Johnny didn't have a lot more to lose and slid a step closer, almost in arm's reach now. "What do you say?" He swallowed. "Please."
A moment passed. Then Oliver suddenly shrugged, releasing Roy carelessly and stepping away without another word.
Johnny lunged forward to catch his partner's limp body before it hit the ground.
No respiration, fading pulse. He knew it, catalogued it, and filed it away for later panic even as he gently lowered DeSoto to the ground. Thank God for the training that allowed them to partition off their feelings while they worked, because Johnny knew he'd be going crazy without it. Instead, he felt along the bruised throat carefully, then moved his partner into position and tried an experimental breath, watching Roy's chest as he did. It rose and fell, not as much as Johnny would have liked, but enough. Partial blockage, no doubt due to the abraded and already swelling passage, but the airway was still intact. So he only had to get breathing started again.
Only.
Johnny gave two more breaths, watching the chest wall rise and fall with each one. He would've traded all he owned for some O2 and a mask, but that wasn't an option. Instead, he waited several seconds, then gave two more breaths, repeated twice more before he stopped to check again.
The chest was moving, if only just enough to clear the worst of the blue tinge from his partner's lips, but it was there. And the pulse, while still sluggish, beat a little more strongly under his fingers.
Johnny almost sagged to the floor with his partner in relief. He’d gotten Roy back, and the enormity of that was more than even his training could handle. "Thataboy," he encouraged under his breath, watching intently until the breathing fell into a ragged pattern and the heartbeat no longer felt like it was going to stop the minute he let go.
"Roy, can you hear me?" he tried softly. Each breath his partner took sounded awful, a painful wheeze. Johnny winced to hear it. "I'm gonna sit you up so you can breathe a little easier, okay?"
Still no response, but he didn't wait for one before he slid his arms underneath the dead weight of his partner and heaved the heavier man up against him, propping Roy against his shoulder. They'd had to carry each other out of fires before, and Johnny knew his partner's weight and balance by heart, but this time there was a real comfort in the heaviness, a promise Roy wasn't going anywhere without him.
Air was getting in a little easier now, but the process was still taxing. Johnny could feel the strain of his partner's unconscious body to fill his lungs each time. "Easy," he murmured almost to himself, the same words he'd said to Jessica, but now full with his emotions. "Just keep breathing." Everything else he could handle, even as his ear followed the pacing Oliver behind them. Their captor was as indifferent to Johnny's struggles to bring his partner back as he had been to killing Roy in the first place. Gage didn't care anymore, as long as his partner kept breathing.
Roy woke a minute later. The limp body against Johnny suddenly began to flail with reflexive panic at his impeded respiration.
"Easy, partner," he soothed urgently, restraining DeSoto as gently as he could. One arm firmly around the shoulders of his partner, Johnny pulled back enough to make eye contact.
Roy's gaze was disoriented and Johnny wasn't even sure how much he was taking in, but the younger paramedic had always managed to know Roy was around when he needed him. Maybe that worked both ways.
"Just take little breaths, okay? It's all right. It's all right." Johnny repeated the words slowly, calmly. "You're okay, just try to relax." It was what they said to victims, too, hoping they'd be believed and obeyed.
But this time when it worked, it didn't seem to be the words. Roy blinked at him, his movements slowing, uncertain recognition lighting in his eyes. An attempt to speak only produced a particularly hideous rasp, and his eyes closed again in pain.
"Yeah, it's me." Johnny grinned, mouth not quite curling like it was supposed to. "Can ya hear me? Roy?"
A very weary nod, and then his partner was really looking at him, making an admirable effort to smile even as his face remained twisted in the effort to breathe. The strangled wheezes were loud even in the big room.
The effort at reassurance made Johnny's throat close up. "Good, stay with me," he encouraged, leaning Roy against him once more. Other than the tension of respiration, there was no strength or energy in his partner's boneless frame.
With the beautiful, painful sound of each inhalation in his ear, Johnny sat back to take stock. Things didn't look good. The police outside had fallen silent, maybe waiting for those inside to make a move. That was laughable, John thought, watching as Oliver prowled the back of the room like a predator seeking an opening to strike, the hostages shrinking from his gaze each time he passed. Jessica had buried her face in the shoulder of the older woman sitting next to her, but at least she seemed to be holding it together now. And the diabetic was still there against the wall, looking not a whole lot better than Roy sounded.
Johnny licked his lips, mouth feeling like the desert where he'd grown up. "Hey," he called out cheerfully. "Anyone got a soda with them, or a candy bar or maybe a piece of fruit?"
Oliver rounded sneeringly on him. "Why, you hungry?"
Roy stirred against Gage's shoulder, whether at the voice of his attacker or maybe remembering the patient himself. Johnny held him still with the one hand he'd kept curled protectively over his partner's shoulder. Anyone getting to Roy would have to go through him first now. He addressed Oliver again. "No, it's for the man over there. He's going to go into insulin shock if he doesn't get something with sugar in it," Johnny impatiently explained.
The gunman watched him carefully but didn't answer.
"I've got a Hershey bar." Jessica's timid voice drew both their attentions. She cringed under Oliver's stare.
"That's good," Johnny encouraged, trying to draw her gaze back to him. "Could you give it to him, a little piece at a time?" He probably should have been doing that part himself, except that he
was still afraid Roy wouldn't be able to breathe lying down, and the only thing holding him up at the moment was Johnny. They weren’t close enough to the wall or heavy furniture that could serve as support, either. And with respiration still taking just about all Roy's energy and concentration, Johnny wasn't quite ready to move him yet, anyway. In another situation, he would have considered whether that was a selfish reaction or a genuinely prudent one. Now, Gage could care less.
But the hostages were only a good twenty feet away, and Johnny watched closely as Jessica hesitantly fished out her candy bar and, skirting Oliver as much as possible while avoiding his glare, sidled over to the second victim--had Roy mentioned his name? Johnny couldn't remember. She unwrapped the bar with only slightly trembling hands, then helped guide the still-conscious
diabetic's hand as he put it to his mouth and ate the sweet candy. He had several pieces before Johnny nodded his approval.
"That's good, Jessica, thanks. Sir, how are you feeling?"
A weak wave, but it was a good sign. One less patient to worry quite so much about.
Speaking of which, Roy's hand brushed his shoulder clumsily, seeking something. An explanation, maybe. Johnny shifted his arm so it took some of his partner's weight, then angled around to meet his partner’s eyes again. The heaving hadn't diminished much, the strain of taking in air evident in all of DeSoto's frame. Johnny could see it all in his face.
"Roy? Listen, you’ve gotta trust me on this one. We're gonna get out of here soon and get you to Rampart. Soon as I can, okay? Just take it easy and let me take care of some things here first. I've got it under control, partner. Just keep breathing for me, all right?"
All right, so maybe that was too much for his fuzzy partner to digest, but the gist got through. In another place and time, Roy would have given him that not-arguing look again, but this time Johnny meant it. Well, okay, he didn't have it all under control, but the important stuff was for the moment. And his partner trusted him. Through all Johnny’s stupid ideas and impetuous plans and harebrained arguments, Roy trusted him when it mattered. His eyes closed from the sheer weight of his eyelids, and he deflated back against Gage. His head settled against his partner’s shoulder, his still-straining side supportted by Johnny's chest. Roy was soon dozing, able for the time being to let Gage handle the world at large.
Partnership. John Gage had never before felt the import of the word as keenly, its weight as tangible as the weight of the man against him.
He looked up after a minute to find Oliver had stopped his pacing and stood watching them, his eyes wary but also curious. At Johnny's notice, he jerked his head once toward Roy. "He's your
partner."
"Yeah," Johnny said firmly, defiant.
"I had a partner once. Business. Then I found out he'd been cheatin' me, stealing all the money." Anger returned, and the pacing recommenced.
"That why you're here?" Johnny asked quietly.
"Yup. They're gonna foreclose on my house, said I was too deep in debt. Just because of that--”
"Did you go to the police?"
Oliver spun on him, almost smiling. "I’ve got a better way. Besides, what do you think the police’d do? They can’t get my house back."
"But they can catch your ex-partner, maybe make him pay you back?"
"Shut up," Oliver growled at him, surly.
Gage fell silent. Across the room, the diabetic had regained some of his color and was sitting up with a little more energy. Jessica held his hand and watched him carefully, tuning Oliver out altogether. That wasn't a bad idea, Johnny mused tiredly. He could do without the sociopath, himself.
"You said something about talking to the cops," Oliver said suddenly, taking a few quick steps toward Johnny and his partner.
The thought of leaving DeSoto still worried him, but Johnny met the large man's glare evenly. "Yeah, I did. But they're not gonna listen to me as long as you've got people in here who need
medical help."
Oliver frowned. "That isn't what you said--”
"That's the way it is," Johnny argued back, ancestral blood, worry for his friend, whatever it was, giving him angry courage.
Their captor stared at him. Then, abruptly, said, "All right. The guy," he jerked his head toward the diabetic, "the girl, and your partner. Okay?"
Johnny felt suddenly giddy from new hope. "Fine. I'll take care of him," he indicated Roy, "but you wanna give the guy a hand?" He said the question as glibly as he could, holding his breath for the answer. If...
Another wary pause, then, "Okay."
It was an effort to keep from grinning, and Johnny only nodded instead. "All right." He watched as Oliver went over to the second victim and pulled him to his feet with one arm under the man's shoulder, his gun arm free. Johnny bent close to Roy. "This is it, partner. We're gonna move a little bit--just help me out as much as you can, okay?"
Getting to their feet was a struggle with DeSoto's lack of coordination. They almost landed right back on the floor, except Johnny locked his knees and worked Roy’s arm over his shoulder. It was tempting to do a fireman's carry, except that it would've made the fragile breathing even harder. No, he’d make do. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before.
Although maybe not when Johnny was so shaken still himself. His voice didn’t betray him, all warmth and encouragement as he coaxed his partner on. "That's it, good. Try to move your legs, Roy. Roy? Keep moving...that's right." DeSoto's efforts had all the power and agility of a newborn kitten, but the fact that he was trying at all cheered Johnny. "Just a little bit farther." And then with any luck...
Jessica was just behind him, and Oliver behind them both with the other victim, watching them all carefully. Johnny struggled to work it out in his head even as he struggled with his unwieldy
partner. This wasn’t the brand of excitement they usually dealt with in their line of work, but he swallowed his jitters and concentrated on his half-formed plan. He wasn’t about to let his partner down after getting him this far, let alone the hostages.
Johnny bit his lip, figuring fast. Jessica would have to be out of the way... Gage let himself lag a little with his load, falling into step beside the girl. They were almost at the door.
"Can you get it, Jess?" he asked, staggering as Roy slumped a little harder, before regaining his balance. Jessica nodded, reaching out to open the door. Johnny suddenly sped his steps and hurried through it right after her.
The light outside was blinding for a moment, but that was just as well. Johnny had no desire to see the line of police cars and the officers behind them with their guns trained on the door he'd
just come through. He could see enough, though, to catch the shadow on his right that he’d been praying would be there. One more step...
And then Oliver was there just inside, pushing the second victim out toward Gage. And wholly unprepared for Johnny giving the man a hard pull, jerking him away from Oliver and drawing the gunman into the open doorway.
"That's him!" Johnny hollered at the same moment to the officer who'd been crouched down right outside the door, out of sight. The officer was already in motion, lunging forward and smashing the gun out of Oliver's hand.
Johnny didn't stay to watch. Guiding two invalids now instead of one and shadowed by a once more wailing Jessica, he staggered off to the side, as far from the door as he could get. Roy was
almost deadweight now, upright only because of Johnny's stubborn refusal to let him go.
And then they were surrounded by officers, two of them immediately taking over Jessica and the second victim--Johnny never had learned the man's name--while two others tried to help ease Roy away.
Johnny shook his head and held on tight. "Uh-uh. Somebody get my gear from our squad. I'm a paramedic and he's my partner."
And nobody questioned that. Frankly, Johnny couldn't remember anymore why he ever would have, either.
*****
Fatigue and stress did funny things to the mind. Like a movie projector that slowed down and sped up random moments, the aftermath was hard to follow. Someone did get their gear from the squad, and Johnny went through all the motions of giving oxygen and calling Rampart and making his patient--his partner--comfortable. It was just as well he could do the drill in his sleep, because that was what it felt like. The most critical victim attended to, he then checked over the diabetic, a friendly man by the name of...well, Johnny heard it and then forgot all over again, and Jessica, who simply needed peace and quiet. By that time, the officers had subdued and taken away Oliver, and the rest of the hostages had needed a once-over, too. And at every lull, Johnny returned to the blanket he'd left his partner on, worriedly checking vitals and reassuring himself that Roy was breathing easier with the O2.
Resting had revived DeSoto some, enough that he gave Johnny a vague smile at one point, though other things weren't tracking quite as well. At one point, some misguided detective tried to
question the injured paramedic, and Johnny found a hand suddenly pulling on his sleeve. One look at his partner's disoriented expression, and he planted himself in between the cop and Roy, staying there until he was sure the man was gone and Roy was settled down. After that, he worked beside the prone DeSoto, aware of the heavy-lidded eyes that followed him as best they could. Johnny seemed to be the one thing that was making much sense to Roy, and that was enough to keep Gage close as long as he was needed.
Then things sped up and suddenly the hostages were gone and the ambulance had arrived. Johnny climbed into the back along with the gurney they'd moved Roy onto, realizing belatedly that would leave the squad stranded. Well, he could figure it out from the hospital.
Both the lack of air and the struggle to breathe had left Roy wrung out, and Johnny watched with some amusement as his partner fought sleep all the way in. Then grew serious as he realized that Roy was starting awake in fright each time, not from a desire to stay awake. Gage finally curled his hand around his partner's shoulder, nodding at Roy's tired, questioning look, and the other man dozed the rest of the way to Rampart.
Time slowed a bit then. The warmth and motion of the ambulance crept into Johnny's brain like a slow-moving fog, numbing his tired body. And the awareness of safety and his partner's survival lulled his mind into a drowsiness he didn't usually let himself succumb to on the job. Well, this time they were entitled. This time partnership had won.
Things blurred again as they arrived at the hospital: a swirl of attendants moving Roy inside, questions from Dix and Dr. Early, the coming and going of nurses. No one asked Johnny to help,
which maybe wasn't a bad idea considering he had a hard time focusing on what they were doing, his eyes drawn instead to the figure on the bed in the center. But by then, his partner was oblivious to the world or Johnny’s presence or absence. It was only for that reason that the younger paramedic let Dix finally lead him out to get that cure-all cup of coffee.
Time went funny again then, until Joanne found him there in the lounge. She rushed over to him before he could even climb to his feet, giving him a hard hug.
"I-I'm sorry, Joanne," Gage stammered in sudden realization, "I know I should've called you when we got here--"
Joanne smiled at him and shook her head. "No, no, you did plenty. Dixie called." Her smile disappeared. "Johnny...how is he? I mean, Dixie said he'd be all right, but--"
Joanne had often seemed to Johnny as Roy's opposite, a talkative worrier while Roy was calm and quiet, and as hard to interrupt as Johnny knew himself to be when he latched on to an idea. "He's fine," he had to repeat twice before she stopped to listen. "Joanne, he's fine. His throat's probably gonna be killing him for the next few days, and he won't have any voice for a while, but he's fine."
"Are they sure nothing's damaged? He'll get his voice back completely?"
"Well, uh..." Actually, that wasn't something he'd thought much about. Johnny frowned. "I think so. Listen, Doc Early hasn't really been by yet to say how he's doing. You wanna have some coffee with me while we wait?"
She hesitated, then gave him a wan return grin. "All right."
Johnny fetched another mug off the shelf and filled it with the fresh brew Dixie had put on, then got stuck on how to fix it. He knew how Roy liked it, of course, but... Shrugging, he grabbed
the sugar and creamer and lined them up with the mug in front of his partner's wife.
"Thanks." But she didn't seem to be too interested in the drinking part, just slowly stirred the dark liquid.
Johnny sat awkwardly in the silence and waited for her to speak first, maybe ask him what had happened. Maybe not, if he was lucky. He had no desire to relive the day.
She finally stopped stirring and smiled at him. "Did Roy tell you he was thinking about taking the engineer's exam again this year?"
That was probably the last topic he'd expected, and Johnny nearly choked on his sip of coffee to hear it. He'd nearly forgotten that. It had been the topic of the day, hadn't it? Long, long day. Johnny nodded warily. "Yeah."
"Well..." she studied the coffee in her mug, "I told him what I always have, that it was his choice. He was the one who had to do the work each day, and I want him to be happy. And after a day like today, I could almost wish he would take the exam."
Johnny tried to see in his own mug what she found so enlightening in hers, and came up with only depressing blackness.
"But you know what? I'd be wrong."
He blinked up at her in surprise.
"He loves this work and I know it," she continued. "He loves helping people and being needed and sometimes even saving lives, even more than he loves firefighting. And he loves you, Johnny.
Your partnership means an awful lot to him. And...it helps me to know he has a partner who looks after him like you do, too."
Johnny was speechless, sure he was as red as the mug she was turning aimlessly in her hand. "I-uh...I mean, I feel...uh--"
Joanne dimpled. "I know. So does he. I think sometimes he forgets how important all that is and wonders if he should be doing more for the family, but I never asked him for more. His being
happy is what I want most."
"Joanne..." Gage stared at the petite brunette intently, wanting her to understand. "Today...I wasn't sure we'd get out of there. I mean, things were pretty hairy for a while..." It was coming out all wrong; he hadn't meant to worry her even more, and Johnny frowned at himself.
A slim hand covered his own. "But you did get both of you out of there, and all those people." She laughed. "You should hear--on the radio they're already calling you a hero!"
A hero? The news might have made him preen at some point, but now it felt unwanted, almost invasive. He'd never asked to be a hero, certainly not at the cost of his partner's or others' safety. Johnny shrugged it off awkwardly. "I just...had to do it."
"Well, you did. And that's all that matters," Joanne said, patting his hand once more.
It felt like an absolution he hadn't realized he'd wanted until then. For the first time, it felt like things might actually get back to normal at some point. Gage sat and sipped at his coffee and thought.
The door opened and Dixie stuck her head in. "They've got him settled in a room--he's sort of groggy but still awake if you two want to see him."
"What about his throat, Dixie, do they know yet?" Joanne asked, rising from her seat. Johnny stood with her.
The nurse smiled at them. "Doctor Ramsey took a look at him--he's our resident ear, nose and throat specialist, and he says it doesn't look like anything a week's rest won't cure. No permanent damage."
"Thank God." Johnny silently echoed Roy’s wife’s sentiment. Joanne turned to him. "Are you coming?"
"Uh, no," Johnny demured, shaking his head with a weak smile. "I'll go see him later when he's awake again." Roy was fine and he knew it, and that was all that mattered for the time being. Besides, the fatigue was finally beginning to descend with all the subtlety of a hammer blow, and home was still a million miles away.
"Are you sure?" She studied his face, looking for the truth.
He nodded. "I'm sure, thanks."
Joanne nodded back, then touched his arm. "Thank you." Then she disappeared out the door Dixie held for her.
Dixie lingered a moment longer. "The couch isn't the most comfortable I've slept on, but it's heavenly if you're exhausted."
Johnny snorted. "A cactus sounds heavenly at the moment. Thanks, Dix."
"I'll get you a blanket and a pillow."
The squad. Johnny snapped his fingers; he'd almost forgotten. A call to the station passed on the news about Roy to the concerned firemen, and revealed that the squad had already been taken care of, an officer having driven it back. Gage and DeSoto’s replacements already had it out on a run.
And good luck to them, Johnny yawned. He returned to the break room to find the couch made up and two blankets spread out on it. He only waited long enough to get his shoes off before
he crawled under them and was dead to the world.
*****
A gentle shake of his shoulder was the first sign of life that penetrated. Johnny yawned and tried to remember whose hand that would be, because for the life of him he couldn't remember. He finally pried one eye open and peered blearily at the fuzzy person before him.
"Dix?"
She grinned. "Good morning. If you're always this hard to wake, they must go on some calls without you."
He stretched somewhat self-consciously, propping himself up. "Have t’sleep sometime. What time is it, anyway?"
One eyebrow rose. "Almost nine-thirty."
That woke him up. "Nine-thirty? Oh, man, the guys should've..." He tapered off, where he was and why finally sinking in. Johnny looked up at Dixie in alarm. "It's not Roy, is it? I mean, he's okay?"
"He's just fine." She gave him that reassuring look she gave scared family members. "He had a good night's sleep and he's awake now if you want to see him."
"Oh." He processed that, mind still a little slow. "Joanne?"
"She had to go back home to the kids overnight. She'll be back a little later today."
Johnny nodded. "Okay. I'll be right there. Oh, uh...what room?"
Dixie now had that look she wore when she seemed to think him cute. It embarrassed him just like it always did. "Room 235."
Five minutes and a little recovered humanity later, Johnny found the room and knocked, then realizing he was waiting in vain for an answer, went in.
Roy looked terrible. His throat was a pattern of different colored bruises, and his eyes had the sunken look, and his skin the wan color, of someone recovering from an ordeal. Johnny almost flinched at the sight. And then Roy opened his eyes. They were far clearer than they'd been the last time his partner had seen them, and Gage relaxed, grinning widely. "Hey, how you doing? You're looking great!"
Roy’s deeply skeptical look said it all.
"Well, better than yesterday," Johnny amended. "How does it feel?"
An eloquent wrinkled nose.
Johnny laughed. "You don't say. Hey, I think I could get used to this. A silent partner."
Roy stretched painfully to one side and retrieved a pad of paper and pen apparently set out there for his use. Slowly, he wrote two words, then turned the pad to Johnny.
Ha Ha
Johnny read the words out loud, then grinned again. "No, huh? Well, I guess it would make talking to Rampart or asking the victim questions kinda hard." He scratched his head. "Naw, I guess maybe you'd better get over this fast before they assign me a temporary partner. I could even get Dixon." He shuddered melodramatically at the thought of the temperamental former linebacker.
Roy didn't need his pad for an answer, his eyes clearly expressing his thought. Thanks for the sympathy.
Johnny grew sober, plucking at the blanket at the foot of the bed. "Roy, uh...I was thinking about the engineer's exam."
An eyebrow raised, inviting him to continue.
"It's just, is that really what you want, to be an engineer? I mean, you're the one who talked me into being in the paramedic program in the first place."
Roy wrote laboriously for a minute, then tilted it so Johnny could read the pad.
Never told me what you think
He shrugged uncomfortably. "It's not my decision..."
Roy sank back into the pillow, apparently just as unsatisfied.
Johnny chewed his lip. It wasn't his decision...except in a way it was. It wasn't just about a promotion, it was about their partnership, their future together. Their work depended not only on
what they did but who they did it with, not just for how successful they were, but also for their very lives. It was that trust that made a lot of what they did, doable. And Johnny knew he wanted
to keep that, as fiercely as he'd worked to keep it the day before, under Oliver's threat.
So why was that so hard to say?
Johnny cleared his throat. "You know, uh...we work pretty well together," he said to the bedspread, fidgeting as he smoothed a crease. "Some people say we make a real good team." A glance up found his partner watching him with unreadable eyes. Back to the bedspread. Johnny shrugged at it. "It just doesn't seem like it would make much sense, you know? Messing with something that works. Like if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?" His nervous laugh died at once. "I mean, I'd sorta miss it. What we had, I mean. You and I. Uh, as partners."
Roy bent over the pad again. Johnny couldn't wait, angling so he could read it as the blond wrote.
Think I would too. We do make good team. And he punctuated it by a hint of a fond smile.
Johnny felt himself relax, the joy bubbling back up. "Yeah," he laughed. "We do. I mean, we're used to each other by now."
Who else'd look out for you? Roy added slowly with a definite, if tired, grin.
Johnny scowled at him. "I'll ignore that just 'cause you're an invalid," he warned. And man, it felt good, like the sun had come out again. Theirs was a crazy job and he definitely wanted someone he trusted at his back, but it was more than that and had been for some time. Partners who were best friends weren't easy to come by, and Johnny was determined to hang on to his. That was family.
Speaking of which, his best friend was going to sleep, the pen slipping out of his hand to roll off the bed.
Johnny caught it one-handed. "Look, I should be going," he shifted gears, also replacing the pad on the bedside table, then pulled the covers up before he had a chance to get embarrassed about it. "I'll come back and see you later, okay?"
A droopy nod and Roy's eyes crinkled in a pseudo-grin. Johnny grinned back at him. Sometimes it was good to be alive. He waved cheerfully and then slipped out of the room.
They really should do something to show Roy how glad they'd be to have him back. A party, maybe, a welcome back party like they'd thrown for Johnny after he'd been bitten by the snake. Yeah, that'd be perfect. They'd invite Joanne and the kids, of course, and any of the guys from the other shifts who wanted to come, maybe the Rampart staff.
Johnny almost bumped into a nurse and he skirted her absently. Sure, that would work. Everyone could bring food and they could do a cook-out. Maybe they could even all chip in for a nice cake from the bakery down the street. Or how about a band? The idea made him grin. Wouldn't that be some shindig to remember! He'd have to talk to the guys, of course, and do some figuring...
The End
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Guest Dispatchers Stories by K Hanna Korossy