Author’ note: This is the sequel to EMERGENCY! Book One: “There’s Just No ‘Getting Away From It All”. In order to better understand the continuing storyline, you may want to read the first book before beginning this one. :)
Disclaimer: The characters from Station 51 and Rampart General belong to Mark VII. They have been borrowed strictly for fun—and not for fortune.
EMERGENCY!
Book Two
“If Wishes Were Horses”
By Ross
Chapter One
“If
wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride.
If turnips were watches,
I would wear one by my side.”
—Author Unknown
“Good morning! Good morning! Good morning!” John Gage enthusiastically—and most energetically—exclaimed, as he came bursting into L.A. County Fire Station 51’s locker room the following sunny a.m..
Chet Kelly, who had accompanied his chum into the room, stared at their stunned shift-mates for a few moments and then accusingly inquired, “You guys been workin’ hard? Or, hardly workin’?”
There followed much backslapping, handshaking and wisecracking, as Roy, Mike and Marco welcomed their fellow firefighters—and friends—back to the station.
Gage grinned, seeing that ‘the guys’ were all staring at his hairy upper lip.
DeSoto, especially, wasn’t quite sure what to make of, either the mustache on, or the amazing transformation in, his—recently deathly-ill and bed-ridden—best buddy. “Johnny, you look…great!”
“Thanks! I feel great.”
Seeing as how Mike and Marco had struck up a separate conversation with the no-longer-missing member of their Engine crew, John struck one of his own up with his partner. “So-o…How many different replacements have they sent over for me?”
“Ah, let’s see…Wright was here the first week. Potter was here the second week. Franklin was here the third week. Brice was here last week. I don’t know who’s next. I sure hope it’s someone I can get along with…”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. Who’s been replacing Chet?”
“Pete Hanson has been here the whole two weeks.” Roy couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “It sure is good to see you again. When did you guys get back?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
DeSoto’s smile did a disappearing act. “You must be tired from all that traveling. Shouldn’t you be home…resting…in bed?”
“Heck, no! I’m good ta go!” Gage enthusiastically declared, with wave of his arms and yet another hairy grin. “And, I can assure you that my next replacement will be someone you can get along with.”
Kelly caught the paramedic’s comment and shot him an ‘oh brother’ look, but remained silent.
Roy had found Johnny’s first statement slightly reassuring and his second somewhat intriguing. “What? Have you heard who they’re sending over?…Who is it?” he further inquired, following his friend’s nod.
“See if you can guess…”
DeSoto’s jaw dropped open. “Do you realize how many paramedics there are in this county?”
“Apparently, not nearly enough,” Gage grumbled beneath his breath, but then prompted his partner again. “C’mon. Guess…”
Roy exhaled a sigh of resignation. “Do I know him?”
“Extremely well.”
“Have I worked with him before?”
“Definitely!”
“A lot?”
“A whole lot!”
DeSoto winced. “Not another week with Super Medic? Craig Brice?”
“No. It’s not Brice.”
“It has to be Brice. He’s the only guy I’ve worked with a whole lot.”
“The only?”
“Well…except for you. But, you don’t count.”
John arched an eyebrow. “Oh?” He crossed over to and opened his locker. “Brice was wearing my helmet again, wasn’t he.”
Roy stepped up beside him. “Yeah. Why? How could you tell?”
“I can see myself in it. Brice is a great polisher.” Gage set his shiny headgear down on the bench in front of his locker and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” his partner nervously inquired.
“I’m taking my shirt off.”
“I can see that. But, why are you taking your shirt off?”
“Because a long-sleeved shirt would look ‘tacky’ under a short-sleeved uniform.”
DeSoto’s jaw dropped again. “You-ou?!”
Gage rested a hand on his shocked associate’s shoulder. “I knew—if I gave you enough hints—that you could guess.”
“B-But…you can’t come back yet! What about your temporary leave of absence?”
“Turns out, two weeks was temporary enough.”
Roy’s smile made a spectacular reappearance. “This is really on the level? You can really come back to work?”
Gage finished buttoning his light blue uniform shirt and gave his happy pal a grin and another definite nod.
“All right!” DeSoto declared, looking and sounding positively ecstatic. He gave Gage’s back a few more congratulatory slaps and his right hand another hearty and heartfelt shake. “It’s great to have you back…Partner!”
“It’s great to be back…Partner!” John announced, sounding equally jubilant. He slipped his blue jeans off and his uniform slacks on. “I really missed working with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” The pensive paramedic pulled his boots on and pinned his badge and department nameplate in place. Then he threaded his belt through the loops in his navy blue britches and attached his paramedic’s assessment kit to it. Gage got his shirt’s tails tucked in and began fumbling with his belt’s buckle. “A month is a loooong time.”
DeSoto finished changing and shot his friend a solemn sidewise glance. “You have no idea what a loooong time is, until you’ve worked a shift with Craig Brice.”
John sniggered delightedly and finally finished snugging up and fastening his bootlaces. The fireman then bent down to snatch his glistening black helmet up from the bench.
Captain Hank Stanley came strolling into the room. “Hey, Kelly! Good ta see yah, pal! Welcome back!”
“Thanks, Cap!” Chet took and shook his boss’ extended hand. “I brought you some rain.”
“I appreciate that. I truly do. But it barely settled the dust. The Department should probably take up a collection and send you back for some more.”
John stepped up beside the ‘rain man’.
Hank shot the new arrival a strange stare. “Say, Chester, who’s your friend?” he teased. The Captain cocked his head and squinted. “Wait…he looks vaguely familiar. Ga-age? Is that you, hiding behind that cookie duster?”
The guys snickered.
Gage grinned sheepishly back at his boss. “Yeah, Cap. It’s me.”
Stanley carefully patted the paramedic on the back and even more gingerly shook his proffered palm. “When headquarters called, just now, I couldn’t believe it! So, I had ta come and see for myself…” he paused to give the still-grinning member of his crew a closer scrutiny. This was most definitely not the same young man he’d last seen lying on his backside in a hospital bed just two, short weeks ago. No sir-ree!
The mustache was not the only noticeable change in John Gage. The spring was back in the paramedic’s step, the sparkle was back in his eyes and his body, literally, exuded energy!
No wonder the doctors had cleared him for duty. “Welcome back, John!”
Gage exhaled a silent sigh of relief. He could tell by Stanley’s smile that he’d passed his careful inspection. “Thanks, Cap! It’s great to be back!”
“You look fabulous!” his Captain continued.
“I feel fabulous.”
Hank’s smile of approval broadened into a grin. “What d’yah say we all go grab some coffee, and the two of you can regale the rest of us with the ‘chilling’ accounts of your ‘icy’ escapades…”
The men fell in behind their Captain and followed him out of the locker room…across their fire station’s empty apparatus bay…and into the rec’ and dining area.
There, resting on the kitchen counter, was a tall, gaily-wrapped cardboard box.
Everyone seemed surprised to see it setting there—with the exception of John and Chet.
“What’s that?” Marco wondered. “A souvenir of Minnesota?”
“Michigan,” Kelly corrected him. “We went to Michigan.”
Henry had abandoned his couch cushion and come growling into the kitchen to greet the two previously missing members of Station 51’s A-Shift crew.
“Hey, Kid!” Chet stooped to the grumbling Basset Hound’s level. “Did yah miss us?”
John joined him and they both received warm, wet, growly greetings. The paramedic stared down at his now slightly slobbered on helmet, looking pleased.
“Henry missed us,” Kelly translated. “He says he’s glad we’re back.”
“Oh yeah?” John looked somewhat dubious. “If he’s so doggoned happy ta see us, then why is he still growling?”
The ‘dog whisperer’ got stiffly to his feet. “Ah, he’s just sore cuz we didn’t take him with.”
His traveling companion looked even more skeptical and dropped the helmet in his hands onto the kitchen floor, in an attempt to scuff it up a little.
Roy could no longer contain his curiosity. He turned to his fellow paramedic and asked, point blank, “What’s in the box?”
His no-longer-stooping partner set his retrieved headgear down on the table and replied with a couple of quick questions of his own. “You know how we’re always accusing one another of stealing each other’s coffee? So that, by the end of the shift, six guys have dirtied a dozen different cups?”
The guys glanced thoughtfully at one another, and then nodded.
“Well, Chet and I have come up with the perfect solution!”
The corners of Mike Stoker’s mouth started moving upwards. “Styrofoam cups?”
Gage gave the now wryly-grinning guesser a ‘ha ha ha’ glance.
“Go ahead, Cap!” Kelly encouraged. “Open it.”
Hank peeled the festive wrapping paper from the top of the package and courageously lifted the box’s lid. He raised his bushy eyebrows, as well, and whistled softly.
All eyes watched as their Captain carefully extracted the container’s contents—a beautiful wooden tree with six, large, ceramic coffee mugs hanging on it.
Stanley rested the heavy mug tree down on the counter.
Gage took one of the cups and held it up. “The mugs have our names on them. See? This is Marco’s,” he pointed out and passed Lopez his personalized coffee cup.
C-A-P had been printed across one of the fire engine red cups in big, bold, black letters. Stanley stared down at the mug in amazement. “Where did you ever find these?”
Chet grinned. “You might say we had them tailor-made.”
John groaned at the Irishman’s pun. “The artist’s name is Taylor…Vickie Ann Taylor. We ‘commissioned’ her to make these for us.”
“Not only is this gorgeous girl an amazing ceramic artist,” Kelly promptly—and proudly—continued, “she’s also an incredible skier!”
“What d’yah say we try them out?” their Captain proposed.
The men rinsed their new mugs out in the sink and then crossed over to the Station’s brand new Bunn automatic drip coffee-maker.
“New coffee-maker…new coffee mugs. Ahhh, life is good,” Hank Stanley lightly assessed as he and his complete crew took their seats at their little family’s rather large kitchen table.
One informal roll call, two carafes of Bunn coffee—and close to an hour of regaling—later, the men finally heard their fire station’s heavy garage door start to grind its way open.
Idling engines were silenced. Truck doors were slammed. Boot heels shuffled across the parking bay.
“Must be nice,” one of C-shift’s paramedics mumbled, as he stumbled wearily past the day room’s open doorway.
“Ron,” Hank acknowledged, as C-shift’s Captain poked his head into the room.
“Hank,” Ron Graham greeted him right back. “I see you and your men are conducting one of those close-quarter MTM drills,” Stanley’s counter-part teased.
The two Captains exchanged grins.
Then, Graham was gone.
It wasn’t two seconds later, the Station’s tones sounded.
“Squad 51…”
John and Roy set their mugs down and slid their chairs back.
DeSoto tossed his helmet on and started trotting toward their truck.
Gage snatched his still-glistening headgear up and followed his friend out into the garage.
The guys on the engine crew got up to go see them off.
Stanley stepped out, to answer the call. Hank watched, in confusion, as Roy climbed into the Squad and then sat there—alone. “Where’s John?”
DeSoto stared at the empty seat beside him and shrugged. “I thought he was right behind me.”
“He was!”
“Cap?! You’re gonna wanna see this!” Mike Stoker suddenly predicted, from somewhere just out of sight.
“Kelly, answer the call!” Hank ordered.
The Captain stepped around the back of the Squad and up to where Stoker was standing.
His engineer pointed, wordlessly, to the concrete beneath their feet.
John Gage was lying face down on the garage floor, on the passenger’s side of the Squad…doing push-ups.
Stanley stared, in disbelief, as John did yet another push-up. “Ga-age?”
“Yeah, Cap?” the paramedic breathlessly pondered, without stopping.
“That was the alarm. Remember the alarm?”
“Yeah, Cap.”
“Aren’t you going with Roy?”
“Yeah, Cap.”
“Well, then, what in blue blazes are you doing on the floor?!”
“I’m breaking up…the automatic workings...of conditioning...I figure I kin do…ten push-ups…and still get into the Squad…before you hand Roy the call slip.” John completed his last push-up, picked his helmet—and himself—up off the floor, yanked the truck’s passenger door open, and slipped into his seat.
As if to prove his point, just then, Chet passed Roy the call slip.
Gage pulled his helmet’s chinstrap up, snugly, and smiled, smugly.
“We’ll talk about this some more,” his unimpressed Captain promised. "Just as soon as you get back," he sternly added and shoved the truck’s open door shut.
The smile left John’s face.
The Squad left the parking bay and pulled out onto the street, lights flashing and siren blaring.
Stanley just stood there, slowly shaking his numb noggin.
Lopez and Kelly stepped up to their still somewhat stunned boss.
“Man!” Marco exclaimed. “That was really strange.”
"Yeah," the Captain numbly agreed. Something suddenly occurred to him and he perked up a bit. “It was, wasn’t it.” Hank smiled and started heading for his office.
It was kind a’ nice to have things back to abnormal around there.
TBC . . .
Author’s note: MTM stands for Mug-To-Mouth.
