The Thousandth Man

  Part 2

“What’re you doing here?” John asked Charlie Dwyer as he sidled up next to him in line for role call. Johnny had noticed Roy’s car wasn’t in the parking lot when he’d arrived but figured he’d be along any second.

“It’s your lucky day. You got me instead of Brice.”

“Where’s Roy?” Johnny asked with a hint of concern tingeing his voice, knowing that the DeSoto’s baby was due any day. “He’s not sick is he – ”

Hank Stanley appeared from around the corner of the squad with a smile. “He’s at the hospital.”

Johnny’s eyes widened, along with the other members of the crew. “They had the baby?” he asked incredulously.

“Not yet, but soon I imagine. Joanne started her labor last night.” Hank glanced down at the clipboard he was carrying.

Johnny looked nonplussed. “Huh. I wonder why he didn’t call me?” he said more to himself than anyone else.

“Because it was three o’clock in the morning when they went to the hospital. He probably didn’t want to wake you, pal. He called Headquarters instead.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie, “so they called and woke me up instead. I’m replacing Roy.”

Johnny looked away as if he hadn’t heard the Cap. “I can’t believe he didn’t call me,” he muttered. He looked back at his captain. “Well, how far along was she? Have you heard anything this morning?”

“John, all I know is that they went to the hospital. I don’t know anything else.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket. “Look, after we’re done with role call and assignments if you and Charlie want to head over to Rampart, be my guest.”

Johnny nodded slowly, then his eyes widened as an idea came to him. “I’m gonna call Dix,” he said excitedly.

He’d taken no more than two steps toward the office when the Cap snagged a hold of his arm, pulling him back. “After role call, Gage.”

Dixie McCall rolled her eyes, yet smiled after hanging up from the third call that day from Johnny inquiring about the DeSoto baby. She still didn’t have an answer for him and had patiently told him each time that she would be sure to call him the minute she heard anything about a birth. That didn’t stop the anxious paramedic from calling though. Honestly, you’d think that baby was Johnny’s, she mused, wondering at how excited Johnny was about Roy’s baby.

Johnny had made a stop to Rampart early that morning with Charlie to see if there was any news yet, leaving disappointedly when Dixie said that Joanne was still in maternity, that Roy was with her, and that there was no baby yet. He’d called every two hours throughout the day, so when four hours went by with no further calls, Dixie figured the guys from 51’s must have been called out.

It was a big one, a nasty chemical fire at a plastics factory that kept 51’s and two other engine companies hopping all afternoon and past dinner time. Johnny finally showed up at Rampart around seven thirty that evening covered with black soot, sweat, and smelling like a combination of burnt wood and melted plastic. He’d opened his turnout in an effort to cool off and let the hospital air conditioning evaporate some of the sweat making his blue uniform shirt cling to his skin.

Dixie saw him striding down the hall toward her, leaving Charlie behind in a cloud of dust. She knew what he wanted, and finally she could give him an answer.

He stopped breathlessly before her, his eyes pleading for information. “Dix?”

“It’s a boy.” And she smiled at the big grin that broke out on Gage’s face.

“A boy,” he repeated, almost like it was the first time he’d ever heard the word. Charlie appeared beside him. “Hey Charlie, it’s a boy! Roy had a boy!”

Dixie stifled a chuckle at Johnny’s enthusiasm. “Well, actually, Joanne had the baby – ”

Before she had time to finish her sentence, Gage had already made a beeline for the elevator to head for maternity, after hastily instructing Charlie to get the supplies. “I’ll be right back!” he called, halfway down the hall already.

The elevator doors opened and the first glimpse Johnny caught was of Roy, standing in front of the big glass window staring in at all the babies. Johnny smiled, anxiously walking toward his partner, the handi-talkie swinging in his right hand. 

Roy didn’t notice his presence until Johnny was standing right next to him. The scent of a well-used turnout coat was the only thing that pulled his gaze away from his newborn infant son, and his head swiveled sideways, taking in his filthy partner.

Johnny’s grin appeared around his soot-covered face like an early blackface entertainer.

“It’s a boy,” Roy beamed.

“I heard. Congratulations, man.” Johnny held out his hand and Roy shook it.

“Thanks.” Roy looked down at his hand, now covered with dirt.

“Sorry,” Johnny shrugged and said sheepishly.

“It’s okay.” Roy wiped his hand on his slacks and sighed deeply, by now bone tired; yet it wasn’t enough to diminish the soft smile on his face.

Johnny peered through the glass. “Which one is he?”

“Can’t you tell?” Roy asked in mock indignation.

“Uhhh…”

“He’s the best looking one in there,” Roy said proudly.

“Oh.” Johnny nodded in affirmation. “Well then I shouldn’t have any trouble picking him out. Let’s see,” Johnny stared harder through the glass pane. Each bassinet had the baby’s name on it, but Johnny played along. “Oh, of course. There he is right in front…yep, you’re right. Definitely the best lookin’ kid in the bunch.”

That made Roy smile larger.

Johnny stared at the baby, mesmerized. He looked at Roy, then the baby, then back at Roy. “Well I’ll say one thing. That kid is one hundred percent DeSoto. He looks exactly like you!”

“You think so?” Roy looked back at his son. “It’s hard to tell when they’re so young…”

“Not for me. Man, he’s a carbon copy of his dad if I ever saw one.”

Johnny’s comment obviously pleased Roy. He could see it on his face. He could also see the pure joy radiating from Roy, and suddenly all the worries and doubts he’d seen his friend go through in the past nine months had just dissolved.

“What are you gonna name him?”

Roy smiled softly. “James. James Paul DeSoto, after both our fathers.” He glanced happily at Johnny. “We’re going to call him Jimmy.”

Johnny nodded, smiling. “Jimmy, huh? Yeah. I like that. A nice simple name. A name none of the other kids can make fun of, you know?”

“Yeah. Like Roderick?” Roy said with amusement.

Johnny frowned. “Ha-ha. Very funny.

Johnny asked about Joanne and Roy said that she was sleeping. The baby had been born just before four o’clock that afternoon and now Jo was catching up on her sleep after being up most of the night. “How many shifts you takin’ off?”

“None.”

Johnny looked incredulously at his friend. “None? Well, why not?”

“They’ll be coming home the day after tomorrow and I’ve got the next two days off to spend with her and the baby. Her mother’s coming on Wednesday and she’ll help with the baby the second night. Then I’ll be back for two days.” He turned back toward the window. “I need the money, Johnny. It’ll work out good this way. Besides, I don’t think I can stand more than two days of ‘mama’ in a row.”

Johnny smirked at Roy’s disdain toward his mother-in-law. “Yeah. I guess you’ve got a point there.”

The two men stood side by side in quiet, wondering at the new life behind the window.

Johnny shook his head slightly, speaking softly almost more to himself than to Roy. “Boy, they sure are little when they’re born, aren’t they?”

Roy turned to look at his best friend, smiling at the wistful look on Johnny’s face. Then he nudged him with his elbow. “So uh, when are you gonna settle down and have some kids, Johnny?”

Johnny turned and looked at Roy, his face shocked. “Roy, I think I’d like to get married first before I start thinkin’ about having kids.”

Roy grinned at Johnny. “Okay. So what are you waiting for?”

Johnny stared at the man next to him as if he’d just told him the earth was flat. “Uh, for hell to freeze over?”

Roy shook his head.

“A cold day in July?” Gage added in mock seriousness.

“You’d better not let Michaela hear that.”

 

“Why? You know something I don’t?”

“Come on, Johnny, I’m serious. You two are living together now. Don’t you ever think about getting married?”

He rubbed at the corner of his eye, digging some dirt out of it. “I kind of like things the way they are right now, to tell you the truth.”

“Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free, right?”

Johnny eyed Roy irritably. “It’s not like that Roy and you know it. It’s just…I don’t know…” Talk of marriage made Johnny uncomfortable. “How’d we get into this conversation anyway?”

“It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” Gage splayed his open hand across his chest. “How do you figure that?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s just that,” he paused, looking up theatrically, as if searching the sky for the right words. “…that look of longing you gave my son, that…pining expression on your face that so clearly shows how much you want a child.” He tried hard to keep a straight face, fully knowing he’d just pushed another one of Johnny’s buttons.

Johnny sputtered out a laugh. “Pining?!” He leaned in as if he were examining his friend worriedly. “Roy, I think you’re crackin’ up. I mean you’re losin’ your grip, Pally. Pining,” he muttered incredulously to himself.

Roy rubbed at his eye. “You’re right. I think the lack of sleep is making me slap happy. I know I’m going off the deep end when I actually begin to think seriously that John Gage would ever consider marriage.” He expected an answer, but didn’t get one. Instead, Johnny stared at him uncomfortably for a moment as if reconsidering, then looked away.

He’d just turned and opened his mouth to say something when John’s handi-talki beeped followed by instructions for station 51, 16, and 94 to go to a structure fire.

“Oh man,” Johnny said tiredly, looking at his watch.

“At least you didn’t go to the trouble of cleaning up,” Roy teased.

Johnny shook his head in disbelief that he had to go out to another major fire so soon. “I gotta go get Dwyer.” He patted Roy once on the shoulder and took off down the hall. “See ya,” he called.

“Hey! Roy called. “Don’t work too hard!”

Johnny’s face twisted into a grimace. “I won’t!” He smiled wickedly and called back, “Don’t sleep too much! Ha-ha!”

Roy shook his head as he watched Johnny disappear into the elevator.

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

The joy lasted for three days.

Maybe it had been too good to be true. A perfect birth, no complications, and what seemed like a perfectly healthy baby who had a loving mom, dad, and brother and sister to love him at home. Not to mention a special ‘uncle’.

It was like a dream come true until one telephone call shattered Roy Desoto’s world. It was the middle of the afternoon of his first day back at work when Joanne called for him, a frantic and frightening tone in her voice. Their beloved new son wasn’t breathing right and was turning a pale shade of blue.

Johnny watched from his seat at the dayroom table, cup of coffee in hand, as all the color drained from Roy’s face. Concerned, the dark-haired paramedic stood up, drawing a little nearer as he heard Roy frantically tell his wife they’d be there in ten minutes, after giving her instructions on how to keep Jimmy breathing. Knowing there was no time to waste, he didn’t ask questions, just ran a close second behind Roy out to the engine bay and toward the squad.

He heard Roy yell at the Cap to call it in, briefly explaining what was happening. They both reached the driver’s side of the squad together, their hands both locking onto the door handle simultaneously.

“Roy, let me drive,” Johnny urged, already seeing the slight tremor in the senior paramedic’s hand and knowing that this was one time that his partner should defer to him.

Roy stared him down, his eyes cutting into Johnny’s like razor blades. “I got it.”

Johnny held his gaze a second, then with a minute shake to his head, ran around to the passenger side of the squad.

Roy drove much faster than usual, and Johnny silently prayed they wouldn’t get into an accident on the way, gripping the dashboard as Roy careened around a corner. The ride seemed to take forever, but they made it to Roy’s house in nine minutes.

Joanne was in tears when they burst through the door, not bothering to knock. Jimmy lay crooked in his mother’s arms, his skin an unhealthy pale color, his fingertips tinged in blue. His cry was piteously weak and only halfhearted, his eyelids at half-mast.

Roy took his child and gently laid him on the floor while Johnny began to get the vital signs. Joanne explained that she’d also called her pediatrician and that he was waiting at Children’s Hospital and to bring Jimmy there. Roy would have preferred to work with Rampart since he was most familiar with their doctors, but Children’s was more likely the best place for their baby. It was a little farther from their home than Rampart, but easily accessible by the freeway, and Jimmy seemed to be stable in Roy’s opinion, so Roy instructed Johnny to open the line to Children’s.

“Roy, what’s wrong with him?” Joanne cried. She’d told him that Jimmy had refused to eat most of the day, and his lethargy had grown worse and worse until she called him, realizing something was definitely wrong.

“I don’t know, honey. It’ll be okay.” He listened as Johnny calmly relayed the information over the biophone, waiting for the response. The vitals were slightly depressed, but thankfully they didn’t seem life-threatening. Roy relaxed just a bit, and watched as Johnny gently started an IV on his son.

Now he was glad that Johnny had taken the lead, thinking he couldn’t have trusted his shaking hands to start the precautionary IV on his tiny son. Johnny’s hands were steady, and inserted the needle expertly. Jimmy barely whimpered.

Roy wasted no time in scooping his son off the floor the moment he heard the ambulance making its way down the street. He was out the door as the ambulance pulled into his driveway, with Johnny and their supplies following close behind. They reached the ambulance at the same time.

“Roy, let me go. You’re too close to this,” Johnny urged, grasping his shoulder sympathetically.

“I can handle it Johnny,” the senior paramedic barked at his partner, practically shoving him out of the way as he stepped toward the ambulance.

With no time to waste, Johnny only hesitated minutely, pressing his lips together in frustration. Roy was a good paramedic – one of the best – yet Johnny worried whether he’d be able to keep it together if something went wrong on the way to the hospital. At the same time, he knew in his heart that if it were his child, nothing would have stopped him from being there by his side.

Locking eyes with Roy, he saw the barely controlled fright behind them, and an understanding passed between the two of them. With a nod, Johnny lifted the medical boxes and biophone into the ambulance, then slammed the doors closed behind Roy after he climbed in. Joanne rode up front.

Johnny ran to the squad, following the ambulance close behind all the way.

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

Roy stared wearily at the tile floor beneath his feet as knees supported elbows. He and Joanne had been at the hospital all night and much of the next day. He’d read every magazine in the waiting room at least twice, nearly worn a track in the floor from pacing, even dozed off a couple of times, and now he was just tired. The chairs were uncomfortable and he was sick of the elevator music. It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. Now he just wished for the doctor to come talk to him and give him some answers, or at the very least, a better distraction. He got the latter part of his wish a few minutes later.

A pair of feet appeared suddenly right next to his and a moment later he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, a little surprised to see Johnny at this hospital.

“Hey,” Gage greeted.

“Hey,” Roy sighed out.

“How’s Jimmy?” John asked softly.

Roy shrugged. “I don’t know. They’ve been running tests all day and so far we haven’t heard anything definitive.”

Johnny sat down in the chair next to Roy’s. “They don’t have any idea what the problem is?”

Roy ran his hand through his hair, then down across his face. “They suspect there might be something wrong with his heart.”

Oh man. Johnny’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Heart? Well…what could be wrong with his heart – ”

“Johnny, I don’t know.” He stood up abruptly and started pacing again. “I just don’t know.”

Johnny looked around. “Where’s Joanne?”

Roy’s sentence came out as a sigh. “She went home to pack a bag of things and clean up a little…take care of getting a sitter for the kids…she’ll be back. She’s going to spend the night here at the hospital with the baby.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Roy looked worn out and scared.

Johnny bit his lower lip. “Man, is there anything I can do? You need any help with Chris and Jennifer – ”

“No. But thanks. The neighbor’s gonna come over and stay with them tonight. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I guess my mother-in-law went home too soon.”

Johnny smiled tightly. “Well…what about you? You eat anything today?”

“Not hungry.”

Johnny stood up. “Look, why don’t we go down to the cafeteria and get you something to eat?”

“Nah…”

“C’mon Roy. You gotta eat something. You’re gonna need your strength if this thing with Jimmy turns out to be anything serious. Don’t let yourself get run down. Now come on with me and we’ll get ya something to eat. Besides, I’m starvin’.” Johnny tugged on Roy’s arm and finally managed to convince him to come down to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat.

Johnny stayed with Roy until Joanne got back, about two hours. There really wasn’t anything more he could do, other than offer moral support. And wait for an answer, hoping it wouldn’t be bad news.

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

The next day Roy decided to take Johnny up on his offer to watch Chris and Jennifer while he and Joanne spent time at the hospital. Johnny and Michaela took the kids out for pizza and to an arcade to play games, then watched a movie that evening. Joanne spent another night at the hospital. Roy came home tired with no new news yet except that they were subjecting his son to a barrage of tests. Not knowing what was wrong with his child was taking its toll on him and he looked exhausted. Johnny offered to bring the kids out to his ranch the next day after school, and Roy thanked him gratefully. The kids were always thrilled to get a chance to ride the horses, so it was like a vacation to them.

Roy took his next shift off to take care of his family. Despite several phone calls, neither Johnny nor the rest of the crew at 51 heard from him over the weekend. So on Monday, Johnny waited anxiously for Roy to arrive at work, hoping for some good news. He wasn’t sure whether to read good or bad into the fact that Roy hadn’t called him to let him know.

Johnny watched Roy’s little green Porsche pull in to its regular spot behind the station, and looked at his watch. Roy was nearly late, which was unlike him. Gage stood leaning against the brick building near the back bay door as Roy slowly climbed out of his car. It was obvious from the look on his partner’s face that something was terribly wrong.

Roy raised a hand half-heartedly to Johnny, returning his greeting, then walked, head down, into the dorm. Johnny watched him go, only hesitating a moment before following him in.

Roy was fishing a uniform shirt out of his locker when Johnny walked in. Gage stopped by his locker, leaning against it, regarding Roy. The two men’s eyes met, and the pain that Johnny saw there troubled him.

He waited for Roy to speak, and when he didn’t, he went ahead. “How’s Jimmy?”

Roy turned to Johnny as he was buttoning his shirt. “Dr. Anderson suspects it’s something called Boeringer’s Defect**, although he’s never seen a case of it himself.”

Johnny’s nose crinkled up. “Boeringer’s Defect? What the heck is that?”

“It’s extremely rare; there’s only been five documented cases of it in the country. It has to do with the way the blood flows through the heart.”

Johnny crossed his arms in front of him and nodded, waiting for Roy to go into more detail.

 “The outflow tract to his pulmonary arteries has constricted, cutting down on his oxygen supply. That’s what caused the cyanosis. He’s also got a loud heart murmur.”

Oh boy. Johnny could see the seriousness of the situation immediately. Roy slumped down to the bench in front of him, and Johnny followed him down, sitting next to him. “Roy, why didn’t they catch this before you took him home?”

“The doc says that a patent ductus arteriosus at birth provided additional blood flow to his lungs, so the cyanosis wasn’t seen right away. Usually in the first few days of life the ductus closes. That’s when his symptoms showed up.”

“So what are they doing for him?”

Roy bent down to tie his shoe. “Well, they’re giving him oxygen, which isn’t really helping much. They did a hyperoxia test, and an echocardiogram. Tomorrow they’re gonna do a cardiac catheterization to evaluate the size and distribution of his pulmonary arteries and to clarify the branching patterns of the coronary arteries. It should also tell us whether his pulmonary blood flow is supplied by an abnormal blood vessel from the aorta.”

Johnny shook his head in disbelief. “Poor little guy,” he murmured.

Roy finished tying his shoe, making no attempt to put on the other one. Instead he sat there limply with his elbows on his knees, staring straight out into space straight.

Johnny was almost afraid to ask the next question. “Is it…curable?”

Roy drew in a deep intake of air, then exhaled. “Maybe. If they’re right about their diagnosis, he’ll need surgery, probably two surgeries. It’s done in two steps, the first corrects the anatomical deformity first of the top half of the heart and the second one the bottom half, if needed.”

Johnny looked away. “Oh, wow,” he exclaimed softly. “How soon?”

“Well, probably as soon as is possible,” Roy said somberly. “He’s not critical – yet. There’s just one problem.”

Johnny was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

“There’s only one surgeon in the country who has any experience with this operation, and he’s in New York City.”

“New York! You mean you’d have to fly Jimmy to New York?”

“No. Dr. Anderson has already conferred with him, a doctor named Theodore Lawrence, and he doesn’t want to chance flying the baby that far for that long a period of time.”

“So…”

“So, he’d have to come here. And…” Roy drew in a shaky breath and stopped, and at that moment Johnny was afraid Roy was going to lose it.

Several painful seconds slipped by before Roy spoke again. “And…” his voice was pitched a couple of octaves higher, “…it’s not going to happen. Because my insurance company won’t pay for it.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped. “What?! Why not?”

“It’s considered experimental surgery. There’s only been two successful cases.”

Johnny mulled that over, disbelief crossing his features. “I thought you said there’d been five cases. What about the other three?”

Roy looked up at him, his eyes glittering. His voice broke when he answered. “They died,” he practically whispered.

For once Johnny didn’t know what to say.  A long silence ensued between the two men as both sat with their thoughts.

It was unthinkable to Johnny that Roy’s son not get an operation he needed because of insurance. But he knew one thing. Roy’s baby wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t. Not if he had anything to do with it. There had to be a way to save him. And if there was, he was going to do his damnedest to figure it out. Anything else was unacceptable.

Gage studied at his partner. Roy was distraught. He looked like he’d already given up. Johnny reached over and squeezed Roy’s shoulder. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay. Try not to worry. It’ll work out.”

Roy turned angrily toward him. “Try not to worry! How can you say that? You, of all people! Every time something even minor happens to you, you go off the deep end! So how can you tell me not to worry?”

Johnny just stared at him, taken aback.  …I do not.

“My son might die, and all because I don’t have the money to pay for the operation he needs. So don’t tell me not to worry,” he said in anguish.

Gage’s voice was as soft as a rebuked child. “I just meant…I have a feeling…that he’ll be okay.”

“How do you know? You inherit some kind of tribal psychic ability in that Indian blood of yours?” Roy spat.

Johnny swallowed uncomfortably, standing up. He turned and opened his locker on the pretense of searching for something. In all the time he’d known Roy, he’d never seen him this angry, not to the point of lashing out with insults. Roy rarely ever even raised his voice. If it were any other situation, Johnny likely would have retorted in anger. But he was so stunned he couldn’t get any words to come.

Roy turned away, his face a combination of desperation and worry. He rubbed at his eyes, turning back to face Johnny, his expression now remorseful. Johnny stared blankly into his locker agonizing over how to respond. He heard Cap calling for role call out in the engine bay. Slowly, he shut his locker door and walked around the bench toward the door. Throwing a cautious glance at Roy as he passed, he pushed the door open, then was gone. Roy sighed, then reached for his other shoe.

Neither paramedic spoke to the other most of that day, except during runs. Roy suffered in quiet, the anguish over his son now mixed with guilt at how he’d treated Johnny that morning.

Though hurtful, Johnny pushed aside Roy’s comments, instead absorbing himself in thought about what he could do to help the situation. An idea formed in his mind that afternoon that he wanted to tell Roy about, but thought it best to keep quiet about it until he checked it out. He’d decided to just give Roy some space to work out his feelings, hoping that things would look brighter tomorrow.

Business was steady all afternoon. By dinner the men were tired and eating was a quiet affair without the usual chatter. The men scattered after the table was cleared and dishes put away, each one off to find their own quiet space.

Johnny went outside to think and work his ideas through. As he sat on the picnic table gazing at the setting sun, his thoughts wandered to a hundred different things, each one flicking by quick as a card shuffle.

Concerns about Roy’s son brought worries about what would happen to Roy and the DeSoto family if their baby didn’t pull through. Those thoughts led to dozens of memories of times with Roy and his family, Christopher and Jennifer, how fast they were growing up, wonderings of whether he’d ever have a child to call his own, to Michaela and their relationship, to sex, to the first time he had sex, to his boyhood, growing up, the death of his brother, then the death of his parents, and finally back to the possibility of the death of Roy’s son.

Roy wandered outside in search of his partner. The setting sun cast Johnny’s silhouette in a shadow and he saw the outline of a man apparently deep in thought, sitting on top of the picnic table, one elbow dangling off his knee, one fist under his chin. Lost in thought, Johnny didn’t acknowledge Roy’s presence until he spoke.

Roy spoke in a low, tired voice. “Johnny…I’m sorry…about this morning.”

Johnny nodded slowly. His voice was soft, also tired. “It’s okay.”

“No. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that…I’m just…having a hard time dealing with this, you know?”

Johnny turned his head to look at Roy. He could barely make out his features in the darkening sky. “I understand. Your son is very sick.”

Roy walked around in front of Johnny and climbed up on the picnic table to sit beside him.

“I doubt I’d be doing any better than you are if it were me. I’d probably even be…‘going off the deep end’,” he said with a wry smile.

Ashamed, Roy shook his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

Johnny chuckled. “Yes you did. But I won’t hold it against you.”

That drew a tiny smile from Roy. He’s a good friend, Roy thought. He’s always been there for me. We’re like night and day, the way lots of brothers are, I guess, and sometimes we fight…like brothers…but we still…love…each other. When push comes to shove, I can always count on him. He thought of the biting words he’d thrown at his best friend that morning and cringed. He licked his lips, looking out of the corners of his eyes at his friend. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

Johnny shrugged. “About what?” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Things got quiet again. The two men sat together, side by side, listening to the cars on the freeway, thinking their own private thoughts.

“You know,” Roy started out of the silence, “he’s only been in our lives a couple of days, but already he…I just don’t know what I’ll do if…” he couldn’t go on.

“Roy. Don’t give up hope. There’s got to be an answer out there. I know things seem bleak right now but just…don’t give up. We’ll figure out a solution.” Johnny slid off the table, patting Roy on the back once. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we turn in early? Maybe things will seem brighter in the morning when your head is clearer.” And the sooner we get to sleep, the sooner morning will come. I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.

This time Johnny’s words actually soothed the lighter-haired paramedic, and he slipped off the table. “I hope you’re right.”

            Roy followed Johnny inside, hoping with all his heart that his friend did indeed possess some ancient Indian psychic ability.

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

            The two days the men had off went by in a blur. Now back at the station, the Cap had assembled all the men around the day room table to go over some department issues. Everyone was relaxed and sipping coffee as their captain went over his agenda.

When Stanley had finished, Johnny stood up, motioning his attention. “Uh, Cap? Is it all right if I talk to you and the guys a minute? I’ve got something important I want to tell everyone about.”

Hank nodded. “Sure, John. Be my guest.”

Everyone eyed the paramedic with curiosity, especially Roy. They had no idea what he was going to say. Chet leaned over to Marco and whispered, “This is it. Gage is gettin’ married. Again. Wait and see.”

Marco raised his brows at the Irishman and whispered back, “You think that’s what he’s gonna say?”

Chet nodded smugly as Johnny cleared his throat and the Cap called for quiet.

Johnny stood next to Roy. “Well, I guess all you guys know that Roy’s son needs surgery, and you all also know by now that Roy’s insurance company has refused to pay for it.”

The other men murmured acknowledgement, wondering where Johnny was going with this. He definitely had Roy’s rapt attention, his very words had a stranglehold on his heart.

John glanced down at Roy. “So, the money’s going to have to come from somewhere else, because we can’t let Jimmy…not have the operation.”

“No kidding Gage,” Chet interrupted, “but like where can Roy get his hands on the kind of money he’s going to need to pay for that surgery?”

Johnny threw Chet an irritated look. “I’m getting’ to that. If you’ll shut up, I’m gonna tell you.”

Roy glanced up at Johnny in surprise.

“Yeah, Chet, shut up,” Marco echoed.

“Jeesh, sorry! Okay, Gage, we’re all waitin’, so tell us. How…”

In unison, the rest of the men cut off Chet and said “Shut up, Chet.”

Johnny cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, after our last shift, I went down to Headquarters and talked to someone about the Fireman’s Fund. Well, to make a long story short, I explained Roy’s dilemma and asked if they could help out with some money for the operation.” Johnny smiled, looking very pleased with himself, and laid his hand on Roy’s shoulder. “I got a call yesterday and they told me they were going to donate $5,000 to help pay for the surgery.”

All at once, everyone started talking excitedly, each in disbelief at Johnny’s news. No one was more surprised than Roy, however. Johnny’s announcement left him speechless, and he sat there in shock, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Captain Stanley finally quieted everyone down. “John, that’s terrific news, pal. And $5,000 is a lot of money, but…that operation is going to likely cost a lot more than that. Where is Roy going to get the rest of the money?”

“I’ve already thought of that, Cap,” Johnny said smugly, patting Roy once on the back, then left his hand resting on his partner’s shoulder. “Mick and I have been talking about it, and we have some ideas.” Johnny went on to suggest that the department hold a huge garage sale. Everyone could donate stuff, and all the proceeds would go to the “Jimmy Fund”, as Johnny called it. He said he’d already checked with Dr. Brackett, and he’d given permission for Johnny to hold the sale in a part of Rampart’s parking lot. It would be an ideal spot since it was highly visible and got a lot of traffic. Johnny told them that Mick had some friends who once did the same thing for a friend of theirs who lost their home in a fire and didn’t have insurance. They were able to raise over $10,000.

“If we got everyone in the department to donate their stuff, who knows how much we could raise? Hopefully even more than the $10,000. Plus, I talked to Dixie, and she suggested a bake sale down in the lobby of the hospital. If we could get some of the wives and girlfriends of firefighters to work it on a day to day basis, we could pull more money in that way.

“Another idea we had was to put donation boxes around, maybe at the hospital or at different businesses of people we know to collect even more. Like that hamburger joint we always go to. The point is,” his eyes pivoted around at everyone, “there’s lots of ways to make money, if we all just put our heads together and think about it, you know?” He tapped the side of his head with his finger.

Once again, everyone started talking together, excited about John’s ideas. Marco thought of several things he could donate to the garage sale to sell, some old tools he had, a hand made blanket, and some other items. That spurred ideas from Chet, Mike, and Captain Stanley.

Roy remained mute, still looking stunned. His face began to take on a pained look, and suddenly he got up from the table. “Excuse me,” he muttered in a rather choked manner, then fled the room.

Johnny’s smile fell away. “Roy?” He watched his partner leave the room, a perplexed look on his face. “Ro – ,” he turned toward the Cap. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

Hank got up. “I don’t think so, John.” He held up his hand to indicate the other men stay there. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room.

About a minute later, he returned, a sort of bittersweet smile on his face.

“Cap, what’s wrong with Roy?” Johnny asked, now really concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong, John.” He glanced back over his shoulder toward the doorway Roy had disappeared through. “He, ah…he’s just a little choked up right now, that’s all.”

Johnny stared at his captain a few moments to make sure it wasn’t something more, then said, “Oh. Well…” He didn’t know what to say.

A few minutes later, Roy walked back in. His eyes were glittering and he rubbed at his nose. Everyone kept talking, trying not to call attention to the emotional moment Roy was having so as not to embarrass him. Johnny moved to stand next to him. He grasped his shoulder and shook it a bit, smiling. “I bet if we cleaned your garage out, we could find a bunch to things to donate, eh? And – that would make Joanne happy; she’s been buggin’ you to clean it out for months.”

Roy looked into John’s eyes. It didn’t matter that his throat had closed up so tight he wasn’t able to verbalize any gratitude. His facial expression said everything he felt. “Yeah,” he finally choked out.

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

The ‘garage’ sale was a marvelous success. It was a huge affair with over fifty tables full of items and countless firefighters volunteering to help. And more money was coming in every day from bake sales, moneyboxes and other ventures.

The DeSotos spirits rose in hope, and for the time being, little Jimmy remained stable, back at home under careful watch, allowing them time to accumulate as much as possible. Roy even considered taking out a home equity loan in the hopes of paying whatever amount was left that the donations weren’t covering.

In the end, it wouldn’t be enough.

And in the end, Roy would never know it.

PART II

Marco listened silently in amusement to the chatter that had begun around the dinner table as he began filling the sink with soap to wash the dishes.

“But, I don’t understand it; it makes no sense!” Chet sat across the table in the kitchen from Roy as Marco cleared the dishes.

“Thanks, Marco.” Roy nodded as his plate was taken away. Reaching for his coffee, he took a sip before continuing. “Chet, it’s just an expression.”

“But, it’s confusing. When the salesman told me I could pick up my order Thursday week, I didn’t have a clue when that would be. Why didn’t he just say ‘a week from Thursday’ like a normal person would?” Chet shook his head in consternation.

“Maybe because he knew you weren't a 'normal' person,” Johnny butted in.

Ignoring Johnny's comment, Roy said, “It’s just a shorter way to say it. That’s all.”

“Well, it’s a stupid way, if you ask me.” Chet rose to refill his mug as Johnny moved from the stove back to the table.

“Maybe he’s right, Roy.” John addressed his partner, but never lost eye contact with Chet. “He is the resident expert on stupidity.”

Chet shot John a scornful look as he realized the coffeepot had been emptied, and by whom. “That’s why I understand you so well, Gage.”

Marco snickered as he washed dishes. “Chet, when they made you, they threw away the mold.”

“But it looks like some of it grew back,” John started, but was interrupted by the klaxons, toning the engine out to a trash fire.

The rest of the evening remained quiet with only the two paramedics to keep each other company. After a couple of hours of watching television, the two partners decided to hit the sack, turning out the lights around eleven o’clock.

An hour later, they were awoken from their slumber by the klaxons, summoning them out of their warm beds to meet a Coast Guard helicopter at Rampart. The pair dashed to the engine bay; Roy waited while Johnny obtained the call slip, then hopped into the squad.

“I wonder why we’re leaving from Rampart?” John thought aloud as the sirens on the squad came alive and they pulled out into the street.

“Apparently the copter just delivered a victim from another run. The guys with 8’s must be tied up; the Coast Guard station is in their area.” Roy deftly maneuvered the squad through the light nighttime traffic, finding it necessary to correct the steering as the whipping wind tried to force it sideways.

Even through the blackness of the night, fat, ominous-looking clouds dominated the sky. The driver's side window was open and Roy could smell the impending rain in the air as the wind rustled his thinning hair. Five minutes later, he backed into a spot near the ambulance bay. Grabbing their equipment, the paramedics entered the ER and headed for the bank of elevators that would take them to the lower level.

Coming out of a treatment room near the elevator, Dixie nearly collided with a fast-moving turnout coat. “Hey, where’s the fire?”

Roy jabbed the button to call the elevator. “Got a call on a chest pain; boat's stranded out near Catalina.”

“So what are you doing in here?”

“Chopper’s waiting for us here.”

“Oh yeah; they just brought in a boating accident with the medics from 8's.”

Roy looked up at the display of numbers above the elevator doors and sighed; the car was stopped on the fourth floor. Good grief! This is taking too long!  “Was it a bad one?”

“The patient wasn't too seriously injured, but the guys had a rough time with the wind and high waves. One of them ended up with a broken arm after getting tossed around trying to get the patient out of his boat.”

Johnny glanced over at Roy in concern; Roy's face registered mild apprehension, but nothing more.

“Who got the broken arm?” John asked.

“Dale Straughn. It’s a clean break, so no surgery needed,” Dixie explained.

“That’s good.” John nodded, looking relieved at the nurse as the elevator doors finally opened. “We’ll send you some more business in a little bit.”

“Be careful,” Dixie warned as the doors began to close on the two men. 

The unspoken concern behind her thick lashes wasn't lost on them.  Dale's description of the eight-foot waves as they were treating his arm had been frightening, and Dixie had seen enough victims of water rescues to know that the situation that John and Roy were going into was extremely dangerous.

“We will,” Johnny offered a wink along with a reassuring crooked grin just before the elevator doors closed.

Within minutes, they were airborne and making their way to a small island off Catalina.  Putting on headsets, Roy and John donned the military-issue life vests over the rappelling harnesses they'd been handed when they boarded. Checking to make sure they were on the correct frequency, they introduced themselves to the flight crew. 

Captain Jack Reeves, the flight coordinator, briefed the paramedics on the details of the call. His voice sounded transistor-like over the loud thumping of the helicopter blades as he turned his helmeted head to talk. “It’s a forty-three foot sailboat with only one man aboard. He placed the call for assistance about the time we got here with another victim, but the PM’s we had with us got pretty banged up and couldn’t ride the call.”

“Did the man say how long he’d been having chest pain?”  Roy shouted over the noise of the copter, which was quite loud despite the headgear.

“About an hour before the pain got too bad to ignore any longer,” Jack explained. “We lost radio contact right before you got on board.”

“Great. Is he unconscious, or is his radio down?” John gripped the seat as the copter was momentarily buffeted by a gust of wind.

“Can’t tell. To make matters worse, we have a storm front coming in, and the waves are topping around eight feet. It’s going to be rough.” Jack stopped, listening over his headset. “Pilot says we’re two minutes from the scene.”

Roy looked down into the choppy waves, a bit unnerved now at the unsteadiness of the copter as gusts of wind sent tremors through it. He looked back at Jack and stated, “Looks tricky. How do you want to do this?"

“We'll send Stevens down on a steadying line, then we’ll lower you guys. Once you're clear, we'll send a stokes down. Let's bring him on up and treat him here; the weather's going to be too bad to work on him on board the boat.”

“Okay; let's go,” Johnny replied. The three men prepared to be lowered down.

Jack turned and slid open the door, bracing himself from the blast of wind and rain that greeted them. “Okay, Stevens...you’re up.”

The crewman, Specialist Joe Stevens, hooked a line to his harness and allowed the winch to lower him down to the boat. Craning his head out of the opening, Roy looked down and swallowed; the waves looked higher than eight feet to him; they were rocking the small sailboat around like a child’s bathtub toy. Once he had boarded the boat, Stevens kept one hand on the steadying line as he made his way to the door of the cabin. Glancing inside, he waved at the copter to send down the paramedics.

Roy pulled on his harness to make sure it was tight, and let Jack secure his line to the winch. Steeling his nerves, he stepped out of the copter’s door and dangled a second until the winch began lowering his rope toward the rocking boat.

 John watched from above as the wind shook Roy about on his quivering line. His dark brown hair whipped wildly around his face as he waited for Roy to be lowered, then a surge of adrenalin shot through his stomach as he too, stepped out of the helicopter door and saw his feet dangling over the rough sea water after Roy was clear. Once he touched the boat deck, he struggled across the slick wet wood toward the cabin that Roy had already entered. Ice-cold rain blew sideways and pelted his face as he entered the small cabin, already drenched. John found Roy bent over an unconscious man.

“He’s not responding.” Roy acknowledged John’s arrival. “Pulse is rapid and irregular; we’d better hurry and get him out of here.” All three men nearly toppled over as a large wave mercilessly slammed into the boat and tilted it sideways. Each managed to lunge out and grab onto some fixture as loose countertop items slid off and flew by. John and Roy exchanged grim glances as Stevens dove for the stokes that threatened to slide away from him.

Roy and John painstakingly packaged the victim into the stokes, securing the straps before wrestling their burden back out into the elements. The boat dipped perilously as they emerged from the cabin; white frothy waves crashed over its sides, sending blinding spray into their faces. Johnny’s feet slid out from under him on the treacherous surface of the deck, and he did a contortion dance, nearly falling. Barely able to maintain their footing, the three men did a balancing act under the hovering helicopter, holding white-knuckled onto the stokes containing their victim.

John and Roy's eyes met momentarily, an uncertain acknowledgement passing between them, each silently remembering their last water rescue and the nearly tragic outcome. Briefly glancing around at their perilous surroundings, Roy made the decision. “You first,” Roy yelled in his partner’s ear.

John's dark eyes bore into his partner's for a long moment before he responded, and his hesitation at his friend's directive wasn't lost on Roy. No words were needed to convey what Johnny was thinking; the two often had moments like these in dangerous situations, each understanding the other's unspoken desire for caution on behalf of the other. It was one of the things that made them a superb paramedic team.

But there was a difference this time that caused such a panicked foreboding in the pit of John’s stomach that he froze, set on the verge of refusing to go. Everything in his being screamed at him to stay and let Roy go up first, but he could see that Roy wasn’t going to give him that option.

Roy saw the combination of uncertainty and apprehension cross Johnny's face, and he added with a pat to his shoulder, “I'll be right behind you.”

Hesitantly, Gage nodded his understanding, then attached his line and was lifted up to the hovering aircraft. Rain dripping from his saturated hair ran down into his eyes, somewhat obscuring his view of the craft below. Ominous feelings that had enveloped him as he dangled over the water vanished upon entering the helicopter, his full attention needed to get the victim safely secured. 

Once Johnny was back on board, Jack dropped the line back down to the boat. With the assistance of Joe Stevens, Roy attached the line to the stokes and backed away as it was also lifted through the air. Again, the line was dropped back down to Roy and Joe. 

“Hang on; my harness is loose!”  Roy shouted at Stevens as they watched the line descend again. Tremendous waves slapped the hull as Roy fought to tighten his harness. Looking down and trying to keep his balance at the same time, Roy didn’t see the sailboat’s boom come untied and swing toward him.

On board the helicopter, John and Jack maneuvered the stokes and secured the litter to prevent movement. Johnny slid a finger numb with cold to the victim’s neck and cursed. Damn it!

Johnny glanced up at Jack Reeves and said urgently, “I need someone to start CPR over here. He's in full arrest.” Placing the mask from the resuscitator over the man's face, John depressed the button that delivered a mix of air and oxygen, watching as the victim's chest rose in response. 

“Evans.” Jack Reeves ordered their third man as John slid his equipment boxes close. No further orders were needed as Evans quickly maneuvered himself into position at the patient's side, and began delivering bursts of oxygen, alternated with chest compressions, while Johnny hooked up the defibrillator's electrodes.

“Get Roy up here,” John called urgently to Jack, who was already leaning out of the door to do just that. 

“Shit!” Joe Stevens cursed under his breath as he helplessly watched the loose boom swing around to hit Roy in the back of his head, throwing the paramedic overboard into the rough water. “Man overboard!” he yelled to his pilot via his handi-talkie.

“Where is the cutter,” Jack began but stopped as the Coast Guard Cutter arrived at the moment he’d asked. “Stevens, tell them there’s an LA County paramedic in the water and to assist. We can’t stay. We have to get this victim transported.” Jack glanced back at Johnny, who hadn’t seen or heard the events unfolding around him; his own headset had been in direct communication with Dr. Brackett, and the patient’s stubborn lack of response to treatment had his full attention.

Jack nervously looked below once again, watching the progress of the cutter, which seemed dreadfully slow, then cast another furtive glance back at Johnny. He swallowed convulsively, wanting to let John know what happened to his partner, but knowing this wasn't the time. There wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway. The cutter was now alongside the other boat, and he could see them preparing for the rescue.

John pushed an amp of epinephrine into the patient’s IV and tossed the long syringe into the bottom of the drug box. “Epi’s in, Rampart.” He looked hopefully at the data scope, but the pattern refused to change. “Still flatline.” He motioned for Evans to resume compressions, and delivered another breath on the resuscitator. As he readied an amp of sodium bicarb to inject in the victim’s IV, John felt the copter lurch from it’s hovering position to one of forward motion. Ripping the radio headset aside, his head shot up, eyes incredulous, and yelled at Jack, “What the hell? Where’s Roy?”

“He went in.” Jack stopped John before he could object further. “There’s a cutter down there. They’ll get him out. We’re leaving Stevens to assist.” He glanced out the window worriedly, then back to Gage. “This guy,” he motioned at the victim, “this guy can’t wait.”

Stunned, Johnny looked down at the man as Evans continued compressions, automatically delivering breaths with the resuscitator without conscious thought. He forced himself not to process the implications of what he’d just heard.

 There's nothing I can do. “Damn it!” Johnny quickly administered the bicarb. He grabbed the radio headset and put it back on his head, reconnecting with Rampart. “What’s our ETA?” he demanded of Jack, who held up ten fingers. “Rampart, ETA is ten minutes. Bicarb is in.” Reflexively, he stole a quick glance out the window and noted the cutter alongside the rocking boat, growing smaller and smaller as their aircraft sped away. A chill went down his spine as the memory of the water rescue in the LA River briefly invaded his mind. He shook it off.  God, Roy, I hope you're a strong swimmer.

“Defibrillate again, 51,” came the reply. Rushing to comply, John pushed thoughts of Roy from his mind as best he could. “We've got coarse V-fib now, Rampart.”

“One amp Epinephrine, intracardiac, 51.”

Johnny swallowed, hard. An intracardiac injection while in flight? “Rampart, be advised due to turbulence, intracardiac will be tricky.”

“We don’t have much choice, 51. Do your best.” Brackett’s voice remained calm and steady.

Okay, doc. I hope you know what I’m doing! Bracing himself, he laid his fingers on the man’s chest, slipping the long needle in until he felt resistance, then pushed a little further until he felt a pop; pulling back on the plunger, he saw the chamber start to fill quickly with blood. Assured he was in the proper place, he emptied the contents of the syringe and withdrew the needle. “Epi’s in, Rampart.” He looked at the data scope and sighed with relief as a complex appeared, followed by another. “Reading slow junctional rhythm, Rampart, rate of 56.”

Jack patted Johnny’s arm and pointed down; Rampart’s roof lights were directly under the copter. “We’re landing. 51 out.”

Mike Morton and two staff members rolled a waiting gurney out to the copter as Jack slid the door open. “Let’s get him unloaded!” Mike shouted over the rotor noise.

Johnny stopped Mike with a hand on his arm. His voice was strained and water from his wet hair was still dripping down his face. “Doc, I can’t stay; Roy got thrown overboard. I have to get back out there!”

Mike blinked in surprise. “Overboard? Who’s with him?”

“There’s a cutter on scene. I have to go!” Not waiting for further questions, John jumped back in the copter and strapped in. With his jaw clenched tensely, he said, “Let’s get back out there.”

Jack nodded, securing his own seatbelt. “I just checked; they haven’t located him yet.”

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

The combination of the frigid water and the blow to his head had stunned Roy into immobility. After plunging into the choppy water, the waves quickly carried him away from the boat, and he soon lost sight of it in the dark. His brain registered the loud roar of the helicopter thumping overhead, and he felt the spray sting his face that the copter's blades stirred up, but it didn't occur to him to be concerned when that roar dissipated and then vanished entirely. Floating along in his life jacket, he lost track of time, and his vision grew fuzzy. Somewhere way in the back of his mind he knew he should be panicked, but the intense pain in his skull prevented any cohesive thoughts from forming.

Just before his consciousness waned, Roy sensed a huge presence looming nearby, then it vanished and his vision blurred to nothingness.

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

Johnny had his life vest strapped on and was ready to go within moments of the helicopter’s lift-off from Rampart. Now he waited and held on while the wind tried to blow the heavy aircraft off course.

Rain pounding the windows made it difficult to see anything except inky blackness. Johnny squirmed restlessly, mentally counting the seconds as they ticked by, relentlessly keeping up a mantra of silent chants to himself to stay calm and level-headed, while trying to quell the uneasiness in his stomach.

Had it not been his partner and best friend in peril, he wouldn't have had to remind himself of these things. It would have come automatically, his usual unruffled demeanor a product of years of experience in dealing with stressful and sometimes harrowing circumstances. Though Johnny cared about every victim he encountered, he'd always been able to maintain his calm and professional mask. This situation had him feeling so out of balance. In his head, a scream of frustration and despair was building.   

“What’s the status now?” John spoke urgently to Jack through his headset.

Jack shook his head. “They’re still searching. There’s no sign of him yet.” Johnny couldn’t help the overwhelming fear that swept through him upon hearing the Captain’s answer. Roy is a good swimmer. He’s got a life vest on. He’s out there; we’ll find him.

Eight minutes went by. The helicopter shook, then decreased speed. Johnny assumed they were nearing the site and scooted to the edge of his seat. 

Jack adjusted something on his headset and concentrated a moment, then looked back at Johnny. “Sailboat’s breaking up…storm’s getting worse.” He strained to speak loud enough over the roar of the copter. Johnny sat perched on the edge of his seat, watching Jack while he listened into his headset, waiting to hear more.

About three minutes later, Johnny felt the aircraft change course. He lunged to the window, trying to see if they were over the rescue site. Nothing; all was still black. What the hell! Where’re we going?

 Jack saw the questioning look in Gage’s eyes when he turned back toward him again. He wasn’t looking forward to the information he now had to deliver to the man. “Got a bulletin from the MSO; there’s a gale warning out. Port Captain’s ordered us to abort the search.”

Johnny’s eyes opened wide, his jaw dropping. “What!?”

Jack explained as the helicopter turned. “Visibility is almost zero. Waves are now at ten feet. It’s no longer safe to continue rescue procedures at this time.”

Johnny’s breath stalled in his chest, for the man had probably just delivered Roy’s death sentence. He wanted to scream at Jack that this wasn’t acceptable, to turn the aircraft around immediately, that there was no way they were abandoning the search for his partner. He would order them to drop him in the water to search, and leave him there if necessary, and he would find him single-handedly if it came down to it. The shock kept him silent, his jaw clenched tightly, knowing it was not only unreasonable, but impossible. They couldn’t risk the lives of others to save one.

For a moment, he felt dizzy; his hand reached out and gripped a strap on the side of the craft to steady himself, and visions of Roy struggling to keep his head above the waves swirled in his mind. Haunting images from the past swallowed him, and he felt water smashing over him, rushing into his mouth and nose, and the terror of suffocation by drowning became so real that his heart began to race out of control. He shuddered, finding it hard to breathe, as he sat in total shock, unmoving, unbelieving.

John didn’t even realize it when they landed once again at Rampart, and sat mutely as the door swung open, causing the wind and rain to slap at him mercilessly. He caught Jack’s stare, and finally managed to gather his wits about him. Slowly he rose, and moved to exit the aircraft. A sudden fury whipped through him, and he whirled around to face Jack.

“What the hell happened down there,” Johnny had to yell to be heard over the thumping blades. His jaw was rock hard. “I wanna know – what happened to Roy?”

Jack remained calm and stoic. “The sailboat’s boom was loose; when the boat turned, it swung fast. It hit him, knocked him overboard.”

A vein in John’s temple pulsed, and he fought to maintain control. These guys are supposed to be experts! How could they have let that happen?! Deep down he knew how unstable the high waves had made the sailboat, and that it wasn’t really their fault.

How could Roy not have seen it? I knew I should have stayed down there and let Roy go up first! “Where did the boom hit him?” he spouted urgently.

Jack stared at him, his eyes unwavering. “Back of the head.”

Johnny closed his eyes momentarily, swallowing. Roy’s chances of surviving had just decreased by exponential amounts. He opened his eyes, schooling his face into an unreadable mask of professionalism. “How soon will you resume the search?”

“As soon as the storm lets up, and headquarters gives us the go ahead, we’ll be back out there. Probably in a few more hours.”

“I want to be there. I want to help in the rescue.”

Jack hesitated. “O-kaaay. I’ll tell headquarters and clear it with them. You certified to dive?”

“Yes. Have been for three years. I’ve also been trained in water deployment procedures and rescue swimming.”

“Good. I’ll have dispatch page you as soon as we get word.”

It was a damn good thing that Jack didn’t argue with him, because he would have had a fight on his hands if he had. Come hell or high water, Johnny was going to be out there participating in the search for his partner. He owed it to Roy’s wife and children, and he owed it to himself. Johnny said no more. Instead, he turned and climbed down from the helicopter. Jack watched him as he walked slowly but purposefully toward the hospital in the rain, the wind whipping at his clothes and his hair. Then Jack turned back, and slid the copter door closed.

Johnny walked through Rampart’s ER entry in a daze. He almost got run over as two paramedics from station eighty-nine whizzed by him, doing CPR on a patient lying on a gurney. In the background, the drone of dispatch sending calls out to other units over his handi-talkie buzzed indistinguishably. Slowly, he approached Dixie’s desk, and noted her talking on the telephone, busy at work. The telephone, yes, that’s what he needed. He had calls to make. His stomach clenched.

Dixie looked up from her call as she saw the dripping wet and bedraggled looking paramedic approach her desk. The haunted look in his eyes gave her pause, and she stopped talking for a moment to observe him. A moment later, her attention was forced back to the phone, and Johnny heard her say, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” She looked back up at him in concern.

His boots squished as he stepped behind her desk and reached for the coffee pot. He knew he’d be needing some in order to get through the rest of this night.  Pouring himself a cup, he sipped it mechanically, then stared down into the dark liquid, as if some secret message lie beneath its dark depths that would give him the answers about his partner.

Dixie finished her call and stood up. She observed him for a moment, and watched as a tendril of water slid off the end of a piece of his wet hair, ran down his nose, and fell into his coffee cup. His hand shook, and he had poured his cup too full; the coffee threatened to slosh over the lip of the cup and scald him. He didn’t notice.

“Here Johnny,” she offered. Gently, she reached out and took the cup from his hand, and set it down on the counter behind him. She had never seen such a lost look on Johnny’s face before, and it was extremely unsettling. He displayed the mannerisms of someone going into shock, but her soft words coaxed his eyes to focus back on her, and the devastation she saw there scared the wits out of her. 

She reached for his forearm, guiding him to her stool. “Come over here and sit down; you look beat.” She offered him a kind smile, knowing something terrible had happened.

He wanted to tell her what had happened, but couldn’t trust himself to speak at the moment. His mouth tried to form some words, but nothing came out, the air stalling in his constricted throat.

Dixie rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She took a deep breath. “Johnny, Mike….told me about Roy. Is….did you find him?” She asked the question already knowing the answer, for if they had found Roy, he would be here now, either standing beside his partner, or in a treatment room somewhere. She wanted to know just the same.

His eyes were full of sorrow as they slowly tracked their way up to her face, and he shook his head. “No,” he choked out, trying very hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes strayed, focusing on something across the hallway. “He’s still out there. They aborted the search, Dix. The storm got worse….it wasn’t safe….the waves….” His voice trailed off.

Despite the fact that she had expected him to confirm her fears, Dixie was stunned. When she had first heard that Roy had fallen overboard during the rescue, she had refused to allow herself to believe that anything could happen to Roy. Not Roy DeSoto, not solid-as-a-rock Roy. Now the very real possibility that one of her favorite paramedics had very likely died tonight was staring her in the face. The thought of that nearly overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to remain calm. No one had confirmed it, and until that happened, if it did happen, she wasn’t going to lose it now, especially in front of Johnny, whom she could clearly see was having a very hard time keeping a grip on his own emotions.

His fist pounding down on the counter jolted her out of her thoughts.

“Damn it, Dixie! I never should have let him stay on that boat.” Drops of water fell onto her paperwork as he ran a shaky hand through his wet hair.

Her brows crinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about Johnny?”

He locked eyes with hers. “We were both on the boat securing that cardiac victim. He told me to go up to the copter first. I never should have left him there.”

“Oh, Johnny – ”

“Dix,” he interrupted, “he’s got a wife and kids. The situation was critical down there. He should have gone up first. I – ”

“Now just a minute, John Gage. Your life is important too. You can’t rationalize things that way. Roy knows the dangers of the job just as well as you, and just because he’s got a family doesn’t mean you should feel like you’ve got to be a sacrificial lamb.”

Johnny shook his head. “Dix, he got hit in the head with the boom. That wouldn’t have happened if I’d have been down there.”

“Yeah. You would have gotten hit in the head with the boom, and right now Roy and I would be having this conversation.”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I’m more familiar with sailboats than Roy. I’ve been sailing many times. I would have been watching for it.”

Dixie sighed and walked around behind Johnny. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she squeezed his tense muscles once. I never realized it before, but he and Roy are equally bad when it comes to guilt.  “Johnny, blaming yourself for something that’s not your fault is not going to help. Besides,” she patted his shoulder, “Roy’s a strong swimmer, and he’s got a lot of experience in water rescue. He’ll know what to do to survive. I’m sure he had a life jacket on, right?”

“Yeah,” he said glumly.

“Look, let’s not think the worst, okay?”

He looked up at her resolutely. “I’m not. As soon as this weather clears, I’m going back out with the Coast Guard to conduct a search. We’ll find him.” He said it with more conviction that he really felt, but at the same time, he strongly sensed that Roy was still out there - alive.

Dixie smiled and patted his shoulder. “I know you will.” I just pray it’s not his body that you find. She looked down at the small puddle of water that had accumulated on the floor from the dripping paramedic. Seeing a supply cart parked next to her desk, Dixie walked around the counter and grabbed a towel off the cart, handing it to Johnny. “Here. Now why don’t you go change into some dry clothes before you catch pneumonia? You want some scrubs to wear back to the station?”

Johnny took the towel from Dixie; it remained limply suspended in midair in his hand as his gaze drifted away. The station. I gotta call the Cap. That reminded him, and he stood up, dropping the towel. “No thanks, Dix. Listen, can I use your phone?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He turned and called the station. Dixie wiped the water off her seat and sat back down, listening to his one-sided conversation.

“Cap. It’s John.” He leaned against the wall next to the phone.

“I’m at Rampart.” Johnny rubbed at his forehead as he looked down at the floor.

“Listen, Cap? There was an accident on this last call.”  His voice was shaking. He took a deep breath. “Roy – ”

“Huh? You do?”

“He did?”

“Oh…..no, I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” John was quiet for a while, listening to something Cap was telling him.

“No. No, Cap. I’ll tell her. No, I think I should be the one to stop by.”

“Yeah.” His voice broke ever so slightly.

“Okay.” He drew in a breath and blew it out. “Yeah. I’ll be going back out with them as soon as the storm dies down a bit.”

“Okay. I’ll be back at the station after I stop at…Roy’s.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

“Bye.” He hung up the phone slowly, dreading what he knew he now had to do. Turning toward Dixie, he raised his hand in a good-bye gesture. “I gotta go.”

She stood up again. “You going to tell Joanne?”

“Yeah.” His shoulders slumped, and he turned to leave.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me…when you find Roy. Okay?”

“I will.” Wearily, he took a few steps away from the base station, then paused and slowly turned back toward Dixie. He looked as if he had forgotten something, then asked,
“Have you seen Mick tonight?”

             Dixie shook her head. “Not since a couple of hours ago. She was called into a case; I don't think she'll be finished for another hour or so.”

             John nodded. “Could you tell her for me? About Roy, I mean? I don't know where I'm going to be or just when...” He swallowed down the bile that had crept upward as he'd spoken. “I...I can't wait around until she's done...”

             “Okay, Johnny. I'll talk to her. Don't worry about that right now.” Dixie knew as distracted and distraught as Johnny was, that one more stressor might send him over the edge of whatever brink he teetered on right now. Her heart wouldn't take losing this young man as well.

             “Thanks, Dix.” John turned and left, his gait slow and his shoulders stooped as if bearing the weight of the world on their bony prominences.

              God, please watch over them all tonight. Dixie's silent prayer was sent not only for Roy, but for all of those who loved him. That means me, too. She wiped a tear from her cheek and mentally steeled herself to get back to work.

It was still pouring, but the gale force winds had died down from their earlier intensity. John made no attempt to stay dry as he slowly dragged his body to the squad. Pouring himself into the driver’s seat, he sat a moment staring into space, then glanced down, feeling almost blasphemous for occupying Roy’s seat. Fleetingly, he wondered if this spot would become his permanent place. Shaking off the morbid thought, he reached under the seat and fished out the spare ignition key they kept there. The original key had been in Roy’s pocket, and now was probably somewhere down on the bottom of the ocean.

The dark-haired paramedic hesitated, reconsidering whether he should go back inside and tell Michaela what had happened, instead of letting Dixie tell her. She would be sympathetic, and would offer him comfort, but for some reason, he didn’t feel he deserved it. It also occurred to him that seeing Michaela right now might bring all his emotions to the surface, and he didn’t want that. He needed to keep his shit together. No, he would just let Dixie tell her; that would be better. Besides, he just didn’t have the energy to go back into Rampart and look for her.

He started the engine, and pulled out of the spot. He looked at his watch. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning. The thoughts racing through his mind as he drove seemed to keep time with the slap, slap, slap of the windshield wipers as the rain poured down.

Joanne would be in bed sleeping, as would be the kids. Dread built to enormous proportions and he stifled a shudder as he envisioned telling her what had happened to her husband. It would be awful; just like the time he’d had to tell Pam that her husband Drew, a police officer and friend of his, had died after being struck by a motorist while issuing a speeding ticket. This would be worse. He’d been close to Drew, but he was closer to Roy, had worked side by side with him for years, had come to feel like part of his family.

He remembered how he’d felt when he’d told Pam about Drew, and recalled telling Roy at the time that he’d wished it were he that were telling Pam instead of himself. He glanced over into the empty seat. There was no one there; no one else who could deliver this horrible news to his best friend’s wife. No one except him. Cap had offered to do it, but Johnny felt he should be the one. One thing Captain Stanley had done, however, was to temporarily take the squad out of service so that Johnny could go talk to Joanne. Unfortunately, after that, John would have to return to the station to finish his shift.

Despite the chill running through his body, he felt hot. Anger and self-recrimination spread through him like tidal waves as he drove, and he pounded the steering wheel the same way he had pounded Dixie’s desk earlier. Damn it! Damn, damn, damn! Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did I leave him down there? I knew it was gonna be a bad scene before I even got back to the copter. I could feel it! I should have insisted that he go up first. Roy says himself how stubborn I am all the time. Why couldn’t I have been stubborn tonight?!  

He pounded the steering wheel again. Stop it, Gage! Just, stop it! He’s not dead. Quit acting like he is.

Yeah, he’s out there, but at least he’s got his life vest. Lots of people have survived in the ocean for longer than this without one.

Another side warred with that logic. In ten foot waves? After being hit in the head with a sailboat boom? Get real, Gage. You’d better accept it, because the fact is, he’s probably dead, probably drowned an hour ago. You can’t survive out on the ocean in a storm with a serious head injury.

Oh God. He felt sick inside. What if he’s dead? His mind wandered to what life would be like if that were the case. A selfish thought crept into his head first. Who would he be partnered with? Would he even want to continue to be partnered with anyone? The job would never be the same again. He and Roy were such a good match; they worked so perfectly together. And it wasn’t just the job. They were best friends, brothers. 

 He stopped at a light, watching the rain spattering the windshield. It echoed like a drum beat. His mind wandered. What would it be like working without Roy? In ways, it's almost like we’re married. We spend more time together than a lot of married couples. He snorted to himself after considering those thoughts. Gage, you must be losin' it. Thinkin' you and Roy are like a married couple - jeesh! What a ridiculous idea! I must be more tired than I thought.

He rubbed his eyes wearily waiting for the light to change, chastising himself for thinking only of himself and his feelings; then the image of Joanne DeSoto filled his consciousness. This caused him to swallow convulsively. Joanne. Oh, Joanne, how are you gonna handle this? You’ve got two kids and a baby who’s sick. How are you ever gonna deal with this? Overcome with misery, Johnny laid his forehead on the steering wheel. Roy can’t be dead. He just can’t be. I don’t believe it. I don’t feel it. I know I would feel it if he was gone. He shook his head to himself.  Who do you think you are, some kind of telepathic guru? Man, you’re really goin’ off the deep end, Gage.

The sound of a horn honking behind him jolted his head up, and he moved through the intersection, the light having turned green. Maybe he didn’t get a bad head injury. Maybe the boom just knocked him off balance. That water’s pretty cold, but I think he could survive for several hours at least, if he can just keep moving, keep his head above water. It’s possible he could even be washed up onto the beach. He frowned. Or into rocks. Oh man, the tide could carry him into the rocks and slice him up like lunch meat. He sighed deeply, and realized that he was turning into Roy’s driveway. I’ve gotta stop thinkin’ this way. He’s alive. I know he is. He’s got to be.

He shut off the engine, and turned off the lights. The hypnotizing drumbeat of the raindrops hitting the roof of the truck cab enticed him toward a drowsy sleep his conscious mind wouldn’t allow. He was tired, very tired. His eyes opened slowly, allowing him to become painfully aware of his duty.

He stared at the house; it was totally dark. Joanne ought to leave a porch light on for security when she’s alone at night, he thought absently. Finally, he forced himself out of the truck and back into the rain.

He took the short walk to the porch and stood in front of the door, willing his hand to move toward the doorbell. As soon as he pushed it, he wished he hadn’t. What am I gonna say?

About thirty seconds went by, and just as he was contemplating ringing it again, he saw a light go on inside the house. The knot in his stomach tightened, and then he heard the door being unlocked.

The porch light clicked on almost simultaneously, and then the door opened about an inch, and he saw Joanne peeking through the opening, her one eye widening. Quickly, the door shut, and Johnny heard her fumbling with the chain lock. Finally, she had it off, and opened the door wide.

The look on her face was one Johnny would never forget. First, the confusion upon seeing him standing there in his sopping uniform, then her face went whitened with a stunned look of acknowledgment that quickly turned to consuming fear. Her hand went to her mouth as she noticed the squad parked in the driveway. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh, God, no.” Joanne started to shake, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, Johnny, no.”

Johnny felt like someone had just plunged a dagger through his heart. Seeing her absolute devastation was even more painful than thinking about Roy’s possible death. “Joanne.” Johnny stepped inside the house, and Joanne fell against him, suddenly wracked with sobs.

Johnny stood there mutely, his arms slowly reaching around to encircle her on their own accord, his hand unconsciously but gently patting her back. “Joanne,” he said softly once more.

She pulled away slightly, and looked up at him; tears were streaming down her face. She had known the minute she opened the door and saw her husband’s partner standing there morosely on her doorstep; the tragic look on his face undisguised. There was only one reason why John Gage would be standing on her front porch in the middle of the night, without her husband, on a work night. It was something she had imagined many times, but always prayed would never happen, and now that it had, it swallowed her up in such a wretched grief that she never in her life could have imagined feeling.

He was talking to her, telling her to listen, but she could barely comprehend what he was saying. A feeling of sickness and dizziness overcame her all at once, and her legs turned to water. Strong arms held her, guiding her into their living room, then she heard Johnny coaxing her to sit down. His hands were grasping her shoulders, gently, but insistently; then she looked up into his face again, taking in the sorrow in his deep brown eyes.

Through hiccupped sobs, she asked, “Oh, Johnny…what’s happened to Roy? How…how bad is it?”  But then she realized that if he were only injured Johnny would likely have called from the hospital, not come by.

He drew in a shaky breath. “Joanne, listen to me, please.”

“Is he…is he…dead?” More tears trickled from her eyes.

Johnny hesitated a split second. “I don’t know.”

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, and it startled her. A mixture of emotions swept across her face, a combination of hope and confusion, and she blurted out, “What? You don’t know? You mean…Roy’s….alive?” Her eyes grew wide, almost begging him to say the words she wanted to hear, that she had misinterpreted Johnny’s visit, but she grew terrified again when he wasn’t forthcoming with that assurance.

Johnny reached out and took her hand in his. Then he told her everything. Second by second, play-by-play, he told her how the evening’s events had unfolded. She finally quieted, hanging on every word, desperately wanting to latch on to some small bit of hope that he might have to offer. When he was done, he apologized, and he sat glumly with his head bent, looking down at his knees, feeling like crying himself.

Then, she reached out to him, taking his other hand, realizing how awful this was for him too. She knew he must be feeling miserable, knew he felt he was responsible for keeping her husband safe, and probably felt like he had failed. Johnny had kept totally calm, had stayed strong for her, and she wanted him to know she recognized it and appreciated it, and most of all, that she didn’t blame him for anything.

After a moment, he looked up at her. He hated to plant false hopes in her mind, but right now, he didn’t think it was fair to Roy to write him off so quickly. Deep in his heart, in his soul, he felt Roy was out there, alive, and he was afraid to tell her, because if she believed him and he was wrong, she would have to feel the devastation of losing him twice. But he had to go with his gut instinct. There was hope, and Joanne desperately needed that little bit of hope right now to hold on to. They both did.

“Joanne, the Coast Guard’s organizing a search right now. As soon as the weather lets up a little, they’re gonna be back out there. I’m going with them, and I’m gonna find Roy. I promise if he’s out there, I’ll bring him back.”

She swallowed. “Oh, Johnny. I know you will. Thank you. You’re such good friend.” She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes.

Yeah. Such a good friend I left your husband out on a boat in practically a freakin’ hurricane, when it should have been me instead of him. If I’d have followed my instincts, we’d both be back at the station right now sleepin’, and Joanne wouldn’t be sittin’ here cryin’ her eyes out. He looked away, uncomfortable at her unwarranted praise.

“Mom?” Both of them jumped at the sound of the small voice that came out of the shadows at the bottom of the staircase. Ten-year old Christopher DeSoto took a tentative step toward them, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Christopher! What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night?” Joanne was surprised, yet spoke softly, so as not to wake her other children, while quickly wiping the tears away from her eyes.

“I heard talking. I thought maybe Dad was home.” He padded into the living room and stared at Johnny. “Uncle Johnny, what are you doing here?” His eyebrows knitted close together in a very worried look. Chris may have only been ten, but he was smart, smart enough to know if Johnny was there in the middle of the night, that something must be wrong. “Did…something happen to my dad?”

Johnny held Chris’s gaze, trying his best to put a warm and calm expression on his face. “Hey, Chris. C’mere sport.” He stretched out his arm to gesture for Chris to come nearer. Johnny reached around Chris’s shoulders and pulled him near.

“Ew, you’re all wet.”

Johnny looked down. “Oh, I guess I am. Sorry, sport.”

“Here, let me get you a towel. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” Joanne got up, and was back a moment later with the towel.

“Uncle Johnny, has something bad happened to Dad?”

Johnny blotted a little of the wetness from his clothing, then shoved the towel underneath him and sat on it. His trousers had still been damp, but hadn’t been wet enough to soak into the sofa. Johnny looked the boy right in the eyes. This was gonna be hard. “I’m afraid so, Chris.”

Chris looked scared, and looked from his mother, whose eyes were filling with tears again, back to Johnny. “What…what happened?”

Johnny swallowed, then told Chris the basics of what went wrong with the rescue. He didn’t go into nearly as much detail as he had with Joanne, and sugarcoated the story a bit, leaving out the part where the boom hit Roy in the back of the head, and also the part about the sailboat breaking up.

“So…he’s still out there…in the ocean?” Chris tried hard to blink away the tears that were beginning to form behind his lids, but was unable to hide his trembling lip.

Johnny nodded, then hated himself for what he said next. He just couldn’t stand to see this child in such distress, and desperately wanted to find some way to comfort him. “But, we’re gonna find him, Chris. I know we will. The Coast Guard is gonna go back out in just a little while, and I’m going with them to look.”

Joanne glanced at him with uncertainty.

 

“What if…what if you can’t find him?”

“Now, don’t think that way, Chris. We’re gonna find him.”

Chris’s lip was quivering more now. The boy looked so much like his dad; not only resembled him, but acted like him – calm and collected – most of the time. He was a levelheaded kid, and intelligent. Though he was still a young boy, he was already certain in his mind what he wanted to be when he grew up – a paramedic, like his dad, whom he worshipped. Johnny had grown to love him almost like he was his own, and seeing him this way was killing him. Johnny pulled Chris into an embrace and held him, patting his back; he felt Chris’s shoulders shaking. Softly, he spoke to him. “Now you listen to me. Your dad is a good swimmer, and – he had a life jacket on. He’s probably out there right now, just waiting for us to come back. So, don’t you worry, I’m gonna find him. Okay?”

Chris nodded somberly. “Uncle Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“What if…what if there’s sharks out there?”

That comment froze him. He hadn’t even thought of that. Johnny knew that there were many kinds of sharks in those waters, mostly Blue Sharks and Soupfins, but Great Whites and Mako also inhabited the area. Usually they left people alone, unless provoked, preferring the taste of seal or sea lion to humans. But most sharks don't have very good vision, and sometimes objects like buoys or people look similar to a seal – a shark's favorite meal. And if Roy’s injury had caused him to bleed…a sick feeling suddenly turned his stomach.

Johnny wasn’t sure how to answer Chris’s question, but did the best he could to ease not only the boy's fears, but to quell some of his own as well. “Chris, your dad and I have been diving in those waters before, and we’ve never been bothered by them. And I know for a fact that there has never been a documented attack on a human anywhere near the island.  So, let’s not worry about that right now, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Johnny glanced from Chris to Joanne; her eyes were dry now, but full of sorrow. He looked away, unable to stand it.

A loud ‘beep beep beep’ broke the silence. “Squad 51, what’s your status?”

Johnny picked up his handi-talki and pressed the button. “Squad 51; 10-8 from 551 Sycamore.”

“Squad 51, return to quarters.”

“Squad 51,” Johnny acknowledged. Sighing, he turned to face Joanne. “Joanne, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.” He stood up, and she pulled herself up off the sofa as well. Grasping each of her shoulders lightly, he said, “I’ll be back just as soon as I can, okay?”

She nodded, then leaned into him, needing to be held, and suddenly very frightened to be alone.

He hugged her once, then pulled away, desperately wanting to be anywhere other than where he was right now. Feelings of guilt tugged at him, but he couldn’t help it. It was almost as if her sorrow was cascading off her shoulders and on to him, and he didn’t need any more sorrow; he had enough of his own as it was. Johnny was almost glad he’d been paged. They walked to the door together, and he left with a quick good-bye.

Fifteen minutes later, Johnny pulled the squad back into the engine bay. He shut off the motor and sat there alone a moment, resting his weary head on top of the steering wheel, his hands still holding it on either side. He still couldn’t believe what had happened this night; he prayed it was a nightmare that he would wake up from any minute, but knew it was real.

Could Roy really be gone? How could that be? Just under four hours ago, they were jumping in this very squad to go out on a run, something they had done hundreds of times together. Could this really have been their last run together? No. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe that. We’ll find him in the morning. He’s probably hanging onto a piece of the wreckage of the sailboat, just drifting along somewhere.

Right.

A soft tap on the window jolted him out of his thoughts and he jerked upward.

A muffled, “John?” could be heard through the closed window.

Johnny glanced over at his captain, who was standing next to the driver’s side door. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he reached for the door handle and opened it, stepping out into a puddle the dripping squad had created.

Hank Stanley’s eyes were full of the same sorrow as Joanne’s had been, with an added touch of concern. “You okay?”

Johnny ran his hand through his damp hair. “Yeah. I’m fine. My partner, that’s another story.”

Hank mirrored Johnny in his fingers through the hair motion, then shoved his hands into his pockets. He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe. Roy, I mean, DeSoto of all people.”

Johnny finished the sentence in his mind, ‘versus Gage, who is usually the one this type of shit happens to.’  

The Cap continued, “It’s just terrible. All the guys are in shock. John, you were there; you saw the conditions; do you think….is there any chance he’s still out there?”

Johnny looked up at his tall captain, saw the mixture of fear and hopefulness in his eyes. It took him a moment, but he said, “Yeah, Cap. I do. I think he’s out there,” he looked away, “somewhere. Wherever he is, I’m gonna find him.”

“I understand you’re going to be in on the search.”

“Yeah.”

“How soon are they going to go back out, John?”

“Soon, I hope. As soon as this storm lets up a little, and there’s more visibility.”

Hank nodded, patting Johnny once on the shoulder. “C’mon into the kitchen. The guys are in there waiting for you – along with your replacement.”

“Replacement?” Johnny raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Headquarters notified McConnike of what happened, and he arranged for everyone on the next shift to come in early so we can all go home. Dwyer is already here to replace you…Scott Abrams is on the way.”

Johnny was immensely relieved. He had worried what would happen if he got called out on a run and he missed the call from the Coast Guard. “Wow. Thanks, Cap. I guess McConnike’s a pretty decent guy after all.”

“Sometimes,” the Cap said with a slight grimace. ‘As long as you don’t set his hat on fire…’ Hank followed Johnny into the kitchen, his hand resting supportively on the younger man’s shoulder.

John joined the rest of the crew at the table, and dropped bonelessly into a seat. He was way past simple fatigue. Returning to the station without Roy had hit him hard.  It took him a few seconds to realize that Mike had placed a fresh cup of hot coffee in front of him, and he wrapped trembling hands around the welcoming warmth. “Thanks, Mike.”

“Have you heard anything else about Roy?” Marco fingered his rosary beads, oblivious to the faint clicking sound they made in his pocket.

John took a long sip of his coffee before answering; his bloodshot eyes stared unseeing at the ashtray on the table while he mustered the strength to tell his crewmates that Roy's whereabouts were still unknown. “No,” he said dully. “Nothing since they stopped the search.”

“How did it happen?” Chet's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

John rested his forehead on his hand and wondered the same thing. How did it happen? How did he manage to strand his partner and best friend in the middle of a stormy ocean? 

“Johnny?” Marco's voice startled him back to awareness.

“S-sorry.” John stammered. “Um...we were bringing the guy up from the boat on a line. I was already in the chopper, so I started working on him. Roy was supposed to come up next.” John took another sip of his coffee. “Before I knew it, the guy was in full arrest. I was getting him patched in on the datascope, starting the IV and all…the next thing I knew, the copter was headed out, without Roy. That's when they told me he’d gone in.”

Chet gasped loudly. “They...they left him? They left Roy out there? Alone?!”

“Practically alone. There was a cutter on scene by then.” John scrubbed at his face. “They were right there...but the water was so rough, they lost sight of him right off.”

“How did he get into the water?” Mike calmly asked.

“We were on a sailboat, and with the winds, the boom came loose. It swung around behind Roy and hit him. That's what knocked him into the water.” John rubbed his eyes tiredly. “It hit him in the back of his head, so there's no telling what sort of damage that did.” John's voice grew weaker. “The waves were up to ten feet by then. All he has is a life jacket...and he's alone out there.” Johnny looked away, no longer being able to stand the other's expressions of shock and disbelief, their questioning eyes all upon him wanting answers he couldn't give.

Mike read the guilt on John’s face and leaned forward, his eyes boring into Johnny’s as he spoke. “You had a patient in full arrest, Johnny. You did what you had to do. You had no choice.”

Johnny nodded. “My head knows that. It's the rest of me that needs convincing.”

“You had a patient in full arrest.” Mike repeated, picking up on the undercurrent of guilt in John's voice. “Roy would have done the same thing.”

“Mike's right, John. It was out of your hands,” Cap added. “It wasn't even in your hands, Johnny.” Cap added. “From what you said, the pilot made the decision to leave the scene before you even knew what had happened. What could you have done any differently?”

John sighed heavily; knowing there was nothing he could have done was one thing, believing it was another. “I don't know. All I do know is that I'm here, and Roy isn't.” And it should have been the other way around. Johnny closed his eyes in despair, resting his head in his hand.

There was nothing more to be said. The men stayed silent, each with their own thoughts about Roy. After several long moments, Johnny felt a man’s hand come to rest on his shoulder and he looked up at his captain. “John, why don’t you go on home now and get some rest?”

            With a heavy sigh, Gage pulled himself from his chair. “Cap, I’ll be at Roy’s if you need me, or…if you hear anything. Be sure to call if you get notified about resuming the search.”

“I will.”

Johnny nodded slightly, grabbing his damp jacket off the back of the seat, then headed out the back door.

The men watched out the window as Johnny’s Rover left the station and disappeared into the rainy night.

It was now nearly five a.m., but the skies were still pitch black. The rain continued its downward cascade at a steady pace.

Bleary-eyed, Johnny drove back to the DeSoto house. The caffeine fix temporarily disguised the oppressive fatigue pulling at him, and his heavy stare remained transfixed on the slick and shiny pavement in front of him through the windshield.

Lights were on now in the downstairs windows of the DeSoto house. Once again, Johnny found himself on Roy’s front porch, the taut tension in the pit of his stomach replaying its tune. He knocked this time, hoping it would be quieter. He’d already woken Joanne and Chris, and didn’t want to disturb Jennifer or the baby; they were all going to have a long day ahead of them.

Joanne answered the door, the corners of her mouth drooped slightly from the somber expression now afixed to her face. She attempted a tiny smile, which didn’t reach her eyes. “Johnny, come in.” He stepped in to their foyer, and caught sight of all three children in the living room. Jo looked up at him hopefully. “Is there…any news?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, not yet.”

“Uncle Johnny!” Jennifer ran to him, and throwing her arms around his thighs, hugged him. “Uncle Johnny, did you find my daddy yet?”

Oh Man. How much did Joanne tell her?  “Hi Jenny bean. No, not yet, honey. I’ll be going out to look for him real soon though.” Johnny reached down and picked up Roy’s daughter.

“Why do you have to wait? Why can’t you go look for him right now?” the feisty seven year old demanded.

The talking downstairs had also awakened Jennifer, and to Joanne’s dismay, she had climbed out of bed to see what was going on just after Johnny had left the first time. Jo found herself having to explain why her father’s partner had come for a visit in the middle of the night.

Like Chris, her daughter had been given few details, but Joanne felt she had to give her some idea of the seriousness of the situation, so that she would have some preparation if they found out the worst, which, as much as Joanne didn’t want to believe it, almost knew in her heart was true. Joanne wasn’t a pessimist, but she was a realist, and she fully expected that by the end of this day, she would find out that her beloved husband, her Roy, her life, was gone.

Now Joanne interceded, “Now Jennifer, I told you that Uncle Johnny wouldn’t be able to go look for Daddy until the weather got a little better. And when it gets light out, it’ll be a lot easier to find him, okay?”

“But I want daddy now,” she whined.

Johnny’s breath caught and he felt like he was suffocating. Having to face Joanne and Chris had been horrible enough, but to have to cause this sweet, innocent little girl to have to worry that her daddy might be lost was overwhelming, and he nearly lost it.

His mandible tight, he shut his eyes and knelt, wrapping his arms around Jennifer, hugging the child. Taking a breath a moment later, he tried to distract not only her, but himself. “Hey, I have an idea.”

“What, Uncle Johnny?”

“Let’s you and me go in the kitchen and get a glass of milk. I’m really thirsty.”

“I don’t want any milk.”

“I have a better idea,” Jo interjected. Let’s go fix your Uncle Johnny something to eat, hmm? He’s going to need a good breakfast before he goes out to find Daddy.”

That seemed to do it. “Can I break the eggs?”

“Sure, honey.”

“Jo, I’m really not hun – ”

Joanne’s eyes shot up at him with a look verging on panic. She desperately needed something to do right now, other than think of what might have become of her husband, and didn’t want Johnny to talk her out of it. “As a matter of fact, let’s all have breakfast, shall we?”

“Mom, I’m not hungry,” Chris complained.

“Chris, you need to eat breakfast.”

“But Mom, it’s kinda early.”

Exasperated, she snapped, “Well, then come in the kitchen anyway. You can help me and Jennifer fix Uncle Johnny’s breakfast.”

Though the thought of eating anything right now made Johnny queasy, he felt it was a good idea to go along with Joanne. She was right; everyone really needed a little distraction. “C’mon sport, let’s go have breakfast.” Carrying Jennifer in his arms, he wrapped his other arm around Chris’s shoulder and coaxed him into the kitchen, where Joanne and Jennifer proceeded to fix everyone breakfast. The only thing that seemed to be consumed with any gusto was the coffee, and Johnny drank most of it; the rest of the food remained on the plates only half eaten.

Joanne was washing the dishes while Johnny and Chris cleared the table when the phone rang. Joanne looked up at the telephone in fright, as if it were some poltergeist that had just flown through her kitchen wall. After the second ring, Johnny asked, “Joanne, you want me to get that?”

“No,” she said nervously, “I’ll get it.” Quickly she wiped her hands on a towel, then answered the phone. “H-hello?” She was terrified of what the person on the other end of the line might say. Johnny tensed as he watched her face, then relaxed a bit as she said, “Yes. Yes, he’s here. Yes, I’ll tell him. Okay, six-thirty; he’ll be there.” Slowly, she hung up the phone and turned to him. “They’re getting ready to start the search. They said for you to be there at six-thirty.”

Johnny looked at his watch. It was five after six. “I better go.”

“Yes,” she hurried with him to the front door, helping him on with his jacket. “Johnny…”

Their eyes met; he didn’t want to make promises, but at the same time he had to offer them some hope.

She finished her sentence before he could speak. “You’ll…let me know…what you find.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing. He felt a tugging on his jacket and looked down.

“Uncle Johnny,” Jennifer peered up at him through big blue watery eyes. “Please bring my daddy home.” Her lip was trembling now. “Please,” she whispered, then hugged him about the hips again.

            Speech eluded him for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice broke. “I will, honey. I’ll…do my best.” Bending down, he offered her a hug, then stood up and tousled Chris’s hair. Johnny looked into Joanne’s miserable eyes one last time, then turned and left. They watched at the door as he jogged to his Rover, got in, and headed out into the dawn.

Johnny made it to the Coast Guard Headquarters by six twenty-five. There he met Captain Michael Pierce, who drew him into his office for a moment before leaving. Anxious to get going, Johnny wondered what the captain wanted to talk to him about.

            “We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Before we go, I had a few questions for you about the rescue last night.”

            Johnny stood silently with his hands on his hips and nodded.

            “Your partner, Roy DeSoto, was wearing a dark blue fire department-issued jacket, is that correct?”

            Johnny looked nonplussed. “Yeah.” Why was the Captain asking him about Roy’s jacket?

            “Do you remember if he had it zipped up when he put it on?”

            Johnny stared at the man, his foggy brain trying to figure out why he would ask such a question. In his mind, he remembered seeing Roy putting on the jacket. They had both done it at the same time. “Yeah, he did.” It was cold. “ Why do you ask?”

            Captain Pierce rubbed his chin and took a couple of steps, as if he were contemplating something. He then turned back to Johnny. “Your partner’s jacket turned up last night.”

            Johnny’s eyes grew wide. “What? Where?”

            “Our cutter’s crew picked it out of the water, just before they left. You probably won’t believe this, but it practically washed right up onto their boat; a large wave carried it over the rail, and they managed to grab it before it got pulled back out to sea.”

            Johnny thought about the significance of this a moment. “But…his jacket…that was on underneath the life vest.”

“Precisely.”

“How could his jacket have come off if he had his life vest on over top of it?”

Michael looked meaningfully at Johnny, not wanting to spell it out for him. “It couldn’t have, if it was zipped up, unless somehow your friend wriggled his way out of it. But I find that highly unlikely.”

“Then….how…” Johnny knew how; he just didn’t want to acknowledge it in his mind. Because the only way Roy’s jacket could have been in the water would be if he also lost his life vest.

No. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe that. Roy had that vest strapped on tight – Johnny remembered seeing him put it on. Roy would never have skimped on fastening it, not in a storm like they had last night. Could he have loosened it up while he was treating the patient? No. Johnny wouldn’t believe that either. Roy wouldn’t have done that; he was too busy with the patient – he had been in too serious a condition for Roy to have taken the time to loosen the vest. Besides, Roy wouldn’t have done that; he knew how rough those waters were. It didn’t make any sense. Another thought occurred to him. “Are you sure it’s his?”

            Captain Pierce sighed, then turned, and picking up something off his desk, handed it to Johnny. The dark-haired paramedic stared down at his friend’s nametag in the palm of his hand, and suddenly felt sick.

            “That was attached to the jacket.”

            Johnny turned away, closing his eyes. His hand tightened around the nametag. Finally, he spoke. “Do you have the jacket?”

            “No. Forensics has it. They’ll be analyzing it for any clues of what might have happened to your friend.”

            “You mean, checking for blood to determine any injuries,” Johnny said rejectedly.

            “Yes. They’ll also be looking for any signs as to how the jacket came off, such as tears, or broken zipper, that type of thing. That will hopefully unravel the mystery and give us some clues as to his whereabouts.”

            Johnny opened his palm and once more studied the nametag in his hand. He suddenly felt as if someone had just placed a thousand pounds of weight on his shoulders, and his knees grew weak.

            Michael Pierce broke the silence. “C’mon. Let’s get you fitted into a dive suit.” Johnny followed him out wordlessly, and soon had changed into the diving suit. He carried the mask and fins; the air tanks and other diving paraphernalia had already been loaded into the boat. He put the nametag into his own jacket, buttoning the pocket carefully, so as not to lose it, and left his clothing there, at the Coast Guard station.

            A few minutes later, Johnny boarded the forty-seven foot Coast Guard cutter and was introduced to the crew. In addition to Captain Pierce, he met Serviceman Jeffrey Knowles, Specialist Todd McFerson, and Divemaster Rich Strong. There was also Dive Specialist Eric Elliot, who was from England. The boat left the dock just as the first light of dawn began to illuminate the water.

            As they rode, Captain Pierce explained the rescue operation that would take place not only that day, but in subsequent days, until they found Roy. He first explained that the Harbor Patrol would be assisting in the search. They would be scouring the area close to the island, while the Coast Guard rescue team would be out in deeper waters, closer to where Roy was lost. There, they would be joined by two other Coast Guard ships, spread out over an area of about twenty-five miles. A Jayhawk helicopter would monitor from above. Each had equipment that enabled it to detect persons and vessels in the water, including radar, direction-finding radio equipment, and night-vision goggles.

In addition to that, two airplanes would fly overhead in four search patterns, varying their altitudes from one thousand to five hundred feet in order to get a close look at the water. All crewmembers would have their eyes on the water in hopes of spotting the PIW. Johnny knew that was Coast Guard jargon for ‘person in water’. Anytime an object was spotted, the plane would double back at a lower altitude to determine what it was. The fact that the sailboat had broken up would make it tricky, since there were certainly still lots debris floating around in the water, any one of which DeSoto could be hanging onto. By now, they could be scattered for miles.

            In the back of the planes, bundled in bright orange canvas bags, an assortment of rescue equipment sat ready to be deployed by parachute if DeSoto was located. The bundles included life rafts, radios, survival kits, pumps for vessels taking on water, and survival suits.

            Lastly, Fire Command would establish search operation and fire units from the cliff edges of the island. In this way, the area would be totally saturated, Pierce explained.

            Johnny fidgeted nervously as they neared the site. Daylight revealed an overcast, dreary atmosphere, the low gray clouds overhead and thinning layer of fog on the water’s surface a foreboding reminder of the events of a few hours ago. Normally, this was one of the most beautiful areas around southern California; today the island was dark and sinister-looking.

Though the storm had passed, a wind remained against a slight drizzle of rain, and the water was still rough. The boat bobbed up and down mercilessly as it sped through the choppy waves, sending a spray of salt water into their faces, and causing Johnny’s stomach to turn upside down. He was glad he hadn’t eaten much.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the scene of the accident, and Divemaster Rich Strong started his pre-diving brief. When that was over, they divided into two diving teams. Johnny would dive with Eric; Todd and Jeff would comprise the other team. Rich Strong and Michael Pierce would stay on board, supervising the operation, and also implement a visual search.

Each diver was equipped with a strong light and a shark billy, in the unlikely event that they encountered any unfriendly sharks. Usually, the magnificent animals were frightened away by humans, so while the chances of seeing one were quite possible, it was unlikely that they would be attacked.

It was decided that initially, Johnny would search in the lead, followed by Eric, who would cover him and watch his back, while also keeping an eye out. Since the airplanes and helicopter would be searching the surface of the water for Roy, having the divers focusing any energy on finding Roy floating on top of the water was merely a pretense. In reality, Johnny knew they were actually there to recover his body, though no one had verbalized it in those terms. Most of their time would be spent searching far under the surface. He tried not to think about it that way.

Then they were in the water. Instantly all noise vanished as they passed into a silent world under the sea. Bubbles and tiny particles of kelp and sea life enveloped them as their bodies stirred everything up.

For a long time, Johnny stayed close to the surface, scanning the area where it was somewhat clear. The water hadn’t yet settled and the storm had whipped everything up into a murky haze. As they descended, visibility decreased, the wavy yellow light from their flashlights only illuminating an area of about fifteen feet before being lost in the haze. Fragments of the sailboat floated overhead and stretched as far as their eyes could see. Realization washed over Johnny that the chances of finding Roy here were about as good as finding a needle in a haystack.

            Meticulously, he searched the shallower depths with Eric mirroring his movements. That went on for over an hour, then the two divers switched positions, Johnny taking the shark billy, and Eric taking the light and the lead in the search.

The waters were loaded with life; Johnny saw California scorpionfish, garabaldi, and some spotted kelpfish as well as a giant kelpfish. A little while later, he saw a giant black sea bass. It would actually have been a pleasant dive had he not been thinking about looking for his best friend’s body. Thoughts of that filled him with despair, and the longer they searched, the deeper that despair grew. Still, the fact that they hadn’t found Roy yet was somewhat of a comfort to Johnny. It might be far better to not find Roy at all, rather than to come across his bloated dead body tangled up in the wreckage of the sailboat, or the sea kelp.

After another hour, they increased their depth, and once again, switched positions. The water became noticeably colder the farther down they descended. Not only that, but it became darker, as the dense sea life prevented daylight from filtering through.

Schools of fish and an eel swam by, and Johnny knew that the wrecks of several ships lay below on the bottom depths. It would have been fun to explore them, had he not been here for such grave reasons. Another hour revealed no signs of Roy, and Eric took the lead once more. Soon they would have to go back to the boat to get more air and take a break, but for now, they continued on.

The water was thick with plants and kelp, and it was increasingly difficult not to get tangled in it. The two divers were repeatedly snarled up in it, causing them to make frequent stops to break off pieces of it before moving on. The storm had churned up the overabundance of the plant life, and it continually swirled around them.

Johnny followed Eric through a particularly dense patch of kelp, and suddenly found himself caught in a large mass of it, abruptly stopping him. Looking around, Johnny saw it had gotten twisted around his tank valve, and began methodically trying to dislodge it. Apparently, Eric hadn’t noticed that Johnny was caught; he had slowly moved ahead, continuing his search.

Noticing that Eric was getting quite a ways away from him, and the light was rapidly diminishing, Johnny struggled with the kelp, becoming frustrated that it wouldn’t let go. Moments later, two huge fish materialized out of the darkness with surprising speed. They seemed to be circling him, and his body tensed, instantly knowing by their shape what they were – sharks.

The sleek indigo-colored animals seemed curious, and Johnny took in their long, pointed   fins and snouts. Shiny black marble eyes followed his every move. They swam gracefully around him, their elongated caudal fin powering them through the water as it swished from side to side. Both were over five feet, and judging by the depth they were in, Johnny guessed that they were males.

He told himself not to panic, knowing that sharp, quick movements would frighten the sharks, and possibly be mistaken as a threat, but it was difficult not to. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, and he found himself continually turning, trying to keep them both in sight, while readying the billy. Holding the club in one hand, he slowly used the other to try to untangle himself from the kelp. His breaths became ragged with fear, causing his scuba respirator to emanate large quantities of bubbles into the water. It seemed to be agitating the sharks, and their movements grew more frantic as they circled closer.

Johnny was nearly paralyzed with terror as they drew so near he could feel them brush up against him on each pass. Feeling trapped, and not knowing what to do, he thought if he could free himself from the kelp, he would try to swim away from them, but knew their speed was far superior to his, and that they could overtake him in an instant. Frantic, he looked around into the murky darkness, seeing nothing, wondering where the hell Eric was.

Suddenly, yellow light flashed through the area, briefly illuminating their presence, and the sharks darted away, frightened. The light swung back, and Johnny saw Eric in the distance, swimming toward him. The sharks made one more pass, then when the light brushed their path, they disappeared as quickly as they had come.

Eric made his way hastily to Johnny’s side, comprehension setting in as to what had happened. Though the light was dim, he could see the panicked look of alarm on Gage’s face that was only just beginning to diminish. Johnny closed his eyes in immense relief, concentrating for the moment on slowing his breathing. He could still feel his heart pumping violently in his chest. Johnny pointed to his tank valve and the kelp, and Eric moved behind him, working on breaking it away. Finally, he was freed, and Eric motioned upward, indicating it was time for them to surface.

Johnny ascended first, followed by Eric, both stopping at fifteen feet for three minutes to allow any excess nitrogen to leave their bloodstream and prevent the bends. It took a total of nearly twenty minutes before their heads broke the surface of the water and they reached the boat.

The sun struggled to break from its prison behind the clouds to no avail, but had managed to burn off some of the fog. Eric and John swam for the cutter, and climbed aboard. Sitting heavily down upon one of the built-in seats, Johnny pulled off his mask and fins, then laid his tank and other equipment on the deck of the boat. Eric did the same.

Johnny looked pale and spent sitting there with his hair dripping down onto his cheeks. Eric reached over and patted the man on his shoulder.

“You okay, mate?”

Johnny looked up. “Yeah,” he breathed out heavily, “I am now.”

Rich Strong raised his brows. “Something happen down there?”

“Nothing much,” Eric quipped, trying to relax Johnny by lightening the situation. “Gage encountered a couple of Blues down there who looked like they were about ready to eat him for lunch.” He had a wry smile on his face.

“Is that so?”

“Where were you?” Captain Pierce asked Eric.

“Near by. I scared them off.”

Rich nodded knowingly. “Beautiful creatures though, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, beautiful. They’d have been a lot more beautiful if they hadn’t have looked so hungry.” Johnny said breathlessly.

Rich laughed. “Ah, they rarely bother humans. Don’t like ‘em, actually. If they bite ya, they usually spit you out. Don’t like the taste.”

Johnny’s shoulders slumped. “That’s comforting to know,” he muttered.

“Here.” The voice came from Michael. Johnny looked up; he was holding a large cup of coffee. “Looks like you could use this. It’s a good time to take a break.” He handed the steaming cup to John.

The paramedic glanced up at him in concern. “No,” he said adamantly. “I don’t want to stop. Not ‘till I find Roy.”

Captain Pierce admired not only Gage’s determination, but his loyalty. There was something special about partners; he understood what it was about; they had a similar type of brotherhood in the Coast Guard. From what he’d heard through the grapevine, these two were quite close. The names Gage and DeSoto were not unfamiliar names in the business; apparently, they’d established quite a reputation for themselves.

Ignoring John’s comments, he said, “We’re expecting McFerson and Knowles up for more air any minute, and then we’ll all take a short forty-five minute surface interval for you to offgas. We’re going to be changing our position slightly. We’ll be moving in a grid pattern with the other two cutters,” he explained.

Johnny nodded, secretly glad for the short breather. He sipped his coffee, much in need now of the caffeine boost. Five minutes later, McFerson and Knowles climbed into the boat, announcing they’d had no luck. Captain Pierce pulled up the anchor, and maneuvered the cutter to their next destination.

Johnny stood, ready to start the next dive. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Take a rest, mate. Rich and I will partner up this time.” Eric didn’t wait for Johnny’s acquiescence. He and Rich proceeded to pull on their masks and ready their diving equipment.

Johnny whirled, incredulous that he was being left out of the dive. He looked beseechingly at Michael, his hands outstretched, palms up. “Look, I’m fine,” he insisted. “The shark was no problem. I’m okay to dive.” His voice was a notch higher than usual. He watched as the four divers went over the side of the boat. “Captain, I’d really like to go on the dive. Please.” A slight desperation was in his speech that wasn’t lost on Captain Pierce.

Michael reached toward Johnny and laid his hand on John’s shoulder. “Look. It’s quite likely that we’ll be out here all day. You’re going to need a rest before your next dive. You’ll need something to eat. Grab a sandwich out of the cooler there,” he gestured to a large red cooler on the deck, “and relax for a while. You can search with the binoculars from up here. Next dive, you go down.”

Johnny studied the Captain for a long moment, then decided not to argue with the man. Maybe he was right, but Johnny was still having a very difficult time holding himself back. It occurred to him that his stomach was painfully empty, but the thought of food nauseated him.       

Forcing himself, he managed to swallow half a turkey sandwich, only for the reason that it might give him a little more energy for the next dive. As noon approached, he found exhaustion smothering him like a wet wool blanket.

Two and a half more hours passed, and Johnny found himself having a hard time keeping his eyes open. His vision grew bleary as he continually focused and refocused the binoculars on the surface of the water, anxiously looking for his partner. His spirits diminished as the afternoon passed.

Other members of the search party informed Captain Pierce that there had been no sightings yet. Johnny drank more coffee, needing the caffeine to stay awake. He felt jittery and tired at the same time.

The dive crew returned, and the captain steered their cutter to the next search coordinates. The other men took a break to eat a sandwich, but were ready by the time they reached their destination.

With a spurt of renewed energy, Johnny stood, ready to go again. This time, he had no argument, and he and Eric were paired together again. Over the side they went, Johnny anxiously leading the way, determined to find something, some clue, as to his friend’s fate. The frigid water refreshed him, and he stayed alert, making sure this time that he and Eric stayed together, and that he constantly watched for sharks.

Nearly two hours went by, and the coffee buzz was gone. Fatigue weighed heavily on the paramedic. Johnny was in the lead again, sweeping the light slowly around them. Visibility was only about twelve feet. They came upon an area where more pieces of the sailboat were scattered; many had been stopped from floating to the depths after becoming tangled in the kelp. Johnny and Eric swam cautiously through the area, not wanting to repeat the problem they had encountered earlier in the day. Together they explored a particularly large piece of what had once been the hull of the sailboat, now splintered and nearly obscured by the swaying greenery.

Johnny shone the light across the surface of the boat, carefully examining every detail. He was just about to move on, when his beam caught something metal, glinting off the light. He moved closer, seeing that the object appeared to be caught up in the splintered boat. Reaching out, he tugged at it, working it loose, when all at once it broke free. Once the algae and kelp clinging to it slid off, he found himself holding a soft yellowish-orange object.

It took a split second for his brain to register what he had found. Shocked, he nearly dropped it, his initial reaction to fling it away, to get it out of his sight so as to erase its existence. The implications of his find hit him with stunning intensity. Adrenal pumped so fiercely through him, he thought he might pass out. In a struggle to gain a breath, the world tilted as he looked down at the abandoned life jacket floating limply in his hand.

About this time, Eric noticed Johnny had made a discovery, and swam to his side. His eyes grew wide through his mask, and he took the light from Johnny, angling it at the jacket to get a better look at it. Comprehending the impact their find was having on his diving partner, he reached out and grasped Johnny’s upper arm, trying to get his attention. Johnny seemed to be a in a state of shock, and floated motionlessly, staring at the life jacket, his breathing coming out in short, quick bursts of bubbles. Finally, Johnny gazed up at Eric. Even through the mask, Eric could see the devastation in Johnny’s eyes.

The Englishman knew it was time for the paramedic to stop the dive, and motioned for Johnny to surface. To Eric, the discovery of the life jacket meant only one thing – that this man’s partner was most assuredly dead. Whether they found his body or not, it was the only conclusion that could be drawn. Of course, protocol would dictate that the search continue, probably for at least a week to make sure, but it would just be a formality. To him, it was pretty cut and dry. Certainly, John Gage had obviously just drawn the same conclusion, judging by his reaction, so Eric thought it was best to get him out of the water as soon as possible.

Tugging at the sleeve of Johnny’s dive suit, he coaxed Johnny upward. Lethargically, the man complied, and together they moved upward and through the murky water in the direction of the boat.

Johnny felt numb with disbelief. He hadn’t had to examine the life jacket too closely to know it was Roy’s. It had been identical to the one he himself had been wearing the night before.

All this time, he’d been so convinced that Roy had survived since he had the life vest; even though it hadn’t made any sense that they’d found his jacket without it; somehow, Johnny was sure that Roy hadn’t drowned. Now he had evidence to the contrary. Strong evidence. But where was Roy? If they’d managed to find both his jacket and his life vest, why couldn’t they find his body? His body. The thought nearly made Johnny sick. Maybe…could Roy have been eaten by…oh God, no. No way. If he had been eaten…by sharks, that life vest would be torn to shreds. What in the hell is going on?! What could have happened to him?

Johnny swam harder toward the surface, suddenly wanting badly to get out of the water. He wracked his brain trying to reason out what had happened, trying to figure out why they would find the jacket, and life vest, and not Roy. Not only that, but how could those two items have come off, leaving no trace of Roy? His thoughts were sluggish, as though thinking through mud, and it was because he was so exhausted that his thoughts wouldn’t process. It didn’t occur to him that the combination of the cold water, which had now penetrated him into virtual numbness, the near absence of food all day, lack of sleep, and emotional distress were what was weighing so heavily on him, preventing him from thinking straight.

He concentrated on making it to the surface, the fact that it was taking so long beginning to feel suffocating, while clutching the life vest as though his own life depended on it. Eric had to pull him back before they surfaced, reminding him to take a safety stop. When his head finally broke the surface, the sun was nowhere to be seen; in fact, the rain was falling once again, adding a layer of depression.

Tiredly, he and Eric climbed into the boat and peeled off their gear. Michael recognized the life jacket immediately, and could only nod grimly at the sight of it. Gently, he pulled it from Johnny’s grasp, who reluctantly let go of it, as though afraid to give up this one little remaining piece of his friend.

Captain Pierce studied the vest briefly, then slid it into a plastic bag, in order to preserve any evidence that might be on it for forensics. A quick hand laid on his shoulder was all Johnny received from him, followed by a heartfelt, “I’m sorry, mate,” from Eric, who then plopped down heavily upon his seat.

Confusion punctuated with anger welled up inside Johnny. Eric’s comment had sounded so final, and it rubbed him the wrong way. “What do you mean, ‘you’re sorry’?”

Eric studied him, suddenly uncomfortable. “I…I mean…I’m sorry about your partner. That’s his vest, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…it’s his…probably. So what does that prove?” he voice took on a provocative tone.

Eric glanced up at Captain Pierce, who stood with his arms folded, his eyes squinted at Johnny, remaining silent, evaluating the situation.

“Well,” Eric stammered slightly, “it’s just that…things aren’t looking too good, you know. I hate to say it, but it looks like your partner didn’t make it…and…I was just saying I was sorry. That’s all, mate.” He threw a sympathetic look at Johnny. “I know; it’s rough.”

Johnny sat frozen, warring with his emotions. On the one hand, he realized Eric was trying to be compassionate, commiserating with him. On the other, it sounded like he was ready to call the search quits, as if finding this life vest sealed Roy’s fate. That was something that Johnny was simply not ready to accept, and stared back at Eric, his jaw set, debating what to say next.

Captain Pierce saw the tension that was building up inside the paramedic, and stepped in, not wanting to rob the man of his denial, just yet. He knew the Gage needed time to accept this; it wasn’t the first time Michael had been through body recovery, and it wouldn’t be the last. For now, the search must continue; DeSoto deserved the same consideration and benefit of a doubt regardless that the odds were stacked way against him. Now wasn’t the time to argue the fate of a man. “John,” he stood in front of Gage, “we’ll do one more dive today.”

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, his eyes incredulous.

Michael Pierce didn’t give him a chance. “After that – the night crew will take over.” He saw Johnny deflate some in obvious relief. “The search will continue for at least five more days.” He looked John in the eyes. “We’re not giving up.”

Johnny’s expression had softened. “Thank you, Captain.” Standing up, he reached for his gear, but felt a hand on his forearm. Looking up, he was face to face with Michael Pierce.

“Not you,” Michael said gently, but firmly. “Strong’ll go back down this time. You’ll stay up here with me.”

“But – ”

Pierce turned away from him. There would be no argument. Gage was in no condition to go on another dive. “Rich. Get your gear.”

“Aye, Captain.” Rich once again donned his mask, fins, and air tank, and before Johnny had any more chance to argue, Rich and Eric had disappeared over the side of the boat.

Pierce had decided that there was time for one more dive today, but that would be it for this crew, and permanently for John Gage. This was going to be the only day he would be allowed the opportunity to attend the search with the Coast Guard, credentials or no credentials. He was simply too close to the situation, and too emotionally involved. Letting him come today was a courtesy that would not be extended further. He would simply have to wait like every other civilian until they found his partner.

Pierce knew it was never wise for someone who was too closely involved with the victim to be a part of the search team. It not only could prove to be a hindrance to the rescue, but it could also make things downright uncomfortable. They were there to do a job, and having to worry about one of their team not being able to handle the stress could be a detriment.  Though Gage had shown nothing but professionalism the entire day, Pierce figured it was only a matter of time before issues arose. The conversation between Gage and Elliot proved that.

Johnny swallowed his protests and had taken up looking through the binoculars once again. He could tell by the Captain’s demeanor that there was no room for argument. Besides, he didn’t want to press a controversial issue now, when he might be needing the favor of accompanying the rescue team another day. Johnny’s schedule allowed for one more day off, and he fully intended to be back on this boat again tomorrow.

Two more hours passed to no avail, and when the team or four divers surfaced for the day, Captain Pierce maneuvered the boat back to their dock at the Coast Guard headquarters. It had been an incredibly long and disappointing day.

Part 3