*Chet’s wild pain medication-induced dream*
Kelly was crawling along a dark, narrow catwalk, fifty feet above the concrete floor of an abandoned refinery, holding onto a charged fire hose.
Lopez was just ahead of him, manning the nozzle.
Something struck Chet’s helmeted head—hard—and he suddenly felt himself falling…falling…falling…
Kelly awoke in a hospital bed, in a strange, bright place, surrounded by very complex-looking scientific equipment.
“Welcome back, Mr. Kelly!” some unseen dude suddenly said.
Chet blinked and slowly turned his head in the voice’s direction.
A gentleman in a white lab coat was smiling down at him.
The fireman found the man’s face every bit as unfamiliar as his voice. “Do I know you?”
The stranger’s smile broadened. “I’ve known you for some time now, but I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced, yet. I’m Dr. Rudolph Wells. How do you feel?”
Chet swallowed hard and blinked again. “Stra-ange,” he told the white-smocked doctor standing beside his hospital bed, “really s-t-r-a-n-g-e.” He groaned and started to squirm around. He felt so stiff and sore. “What happened? Where am I?”
“You are in the Intensive Care Unit of Graham’s Medical Center, in Boston, Massachusetts. This center is a government-funded research hospital. You were fighting a fire in an old chemical refinery. You were knocked out and fell fifty feet from a catwalk. Remember?”
“I sort a’ remember the fire…and feeling like I was falling. Massachusetts?” he repeated, sounding rather alarmed and struggled up onto his elbows. “How did I get he—?”
“—Relax!” Wells ordered and eased him back down on the bed.
Kelly obediently untensed, some.
The doctor avoided his patient’s anxious stare. “You were rushed to Rampart General Hospital with multiple compound fractures of every major bone in your body.”
Chet’s eyes widened with shock and his mouth dropped open to speak.
“Plea-ease,” Wells pleaded, “let me finish.”
The patient closed his gaping jaws.
“You also had massive internal injuries. Your condition was diagnosed as extremely critical and you were not expected to live through the night. Being a civil servant in terminal condition, you qualified to be referred here. We reviewed your file and found you to be a perfect candidate for the BRCP…the Bionic Replacement Components Program. So you were flown here in a United States Air Force jet. You were barely clinging to life upon your arrival. We placed you on total life support and started operating immediately. The first procedure began at 6:00 AM on a Saturday. The surgery lasted until noon the following Thursday. That was four and a half weeks a—”
“—WHA-AT?” Kelly could no longer contain himself. He snapped bolt upright on the bed and stared at the doctor in complete and utter disbelief.
Wells nodded. “You’ve been in a drug-induced coma since the accident,” he continued, and once again eased his understandably antsy patient back down on his hospital bed. “Your own skeletal system was virtually abolished by the fall. We, uh…replaced all necessary bone structures with stainless steel and titanium counterparts.
Soft tissue damages—such as torn muscle and cartilage—were resolved by installing flexible bio-hydraulic components.
Destroyed nerve endings were rerouted onto LCD and FEZ receptors.
Your cardio vascular and other arterial circulatory systems were also rerouted.
Damaged skin tissue was replaced by a new synthetic substance being utilized on severe burn victims.” Seeing that his patient’s mustached face was now white with shock, the doctor took a moment to flash the stunned fellow a reassuring smile. “Of course, your mental and digestive processes are still biotic. Only your skeletal and muscular systems are bionic.” The physician stood there, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Mr. Kelly, you a-are bionic…That means you are truly a human cyborg…a cybernetic organism.”
His patient was no longer paying attention. Chet was just lying there, gazing dazedly off into space. He was—literally—stunned out of his gourd!
Wells flashed the fireman a sympathetic smile and stepped over to a phone on the wall. The doctor dialed a number from memory. “Hello, Jaime! Rudy, here…Yes…The, uh, patient could really use a couple of visitors right now…Splendid!” He hung up and flashed the poor zombie-like fellow another sympathetic smile. “It’s understandable that you should find this all so…overwhelming. Sadly, some of our patients never do ‘adjust’. But we want you to adjust to the ‘new’ you, as quickly as possible! We want you to go back to living a relatively normal life. We can begin by having you meet some very special visitors…”
Almost as if on cue, the door to the room Kelly was in opened and a beautiful young lady with long, blonde hair entered.
A handsome German Shepherd dog followed closely on her heels.
The woman flashed the fireman a smile that melted his stainless steel counterparts down to nothing. “Hi, Chet! My name’s Jaime…” she cheerfully introduced. “Jaime Sommers.” She motioned to the dog. “And this is Max. Max and I are here to help you ‘adjust’.”
Chet gradually snapped out of his trance and gazed dreamily up at his stunning visitor. He returned the woman’s smile—with interest, and extended a hand. ‘Things are looking up!’ he suddenly realized. “Nice to meet you, Jaime.”
Miss Jaime Sommers visited with Kelly for over an hour. During that time, the woman filled the fireman in on her and Max’s backgrounds.
She explained that she had previously been a Tennis Pro.
One fateful day, while skydiving, her parachute failed to deploy properly. Jaime joked that, while she wasn’t hurt in the fall, the landing had damaged both of her legs, her right arm and her right ear—beyond repair.
The two of them had a great deal in common. They were both cybernetic organisms. Actually, all three of them were. Maximillion the dog—Max—was also bionic.
The woman went on to inform the fireman that she now works as a school teacher/secret agent for the OSI—the Office of Scientific Investigations.
Wells joined in the conversation and Kelly was given a complete briefing on the Government’s Top Secret Bionic Replacement Components Program. He was told that the ‘new’ him cost the American taxpayers close to 10.5 million dollars. Of course, nobody expected the fireman to repay the USA in a monetary way. Instead, Kelly would be called upon—from time to time—to perform certain ‘special services’ for his country. Otherwise, it was to be life as usual.
It was drummed into Chet that he must NEVER allow anyone to EVER learn of his bionic abilities!
It was also stressed that he must return to the Center for periodic overhauls and adjustments.
Chet was given dozens of tests and examinations.
Finally, the Center’s scientists determined that Kelly’s condition was stable enough to allow him to leave his hospital bed.
Jamie and Max took Chet down to an obstacle course that had been set up in the building’s basement. The purpose of the trip to the gymnasium sized subterranean room, was to help the fireman learn how to control his new bionic limbs—and superhuman strength!
Jaime and Max showed Chet their ‘stuff’…bending steal bars…lifting enormous weights…making amazing leaps and bounds seem effortless!
Kelly just stood there, looking completely stupefied.
“C’mon, Chet!” Jaime encouraged. “Try it!” The woman made a twenty-foot leap through the air to clear one of the course’s obstacles.
Chet looked terribly uncomfortable and shook his head.
Jaime jumped over to him and took him by the hand. “I know it’s scary. I also know that you can do it!”
Kelly began looking around for a ‘smaller’ obstacle. “I think I’ll start small…and work my way up from there,” he decided and attempted to jump over Jaime’s dog. He cleared Max, by more than fifteen feet, and almost crashed into one of the ‘bigger’ obstacles.
Jaime couldn’t help herself. She just had to laugh.
The woman quickly regained her composure and went bounding up to the fireman, who was looking a little hurt—and like he’d just lost what little confidence he may have had. “I’m sorry, Chet. It’s just that you reminded me of ME, when I first came down here.” She took the gentleman’s hand back into hers. “I was the first human recipient of bionic components.” She motioned for the dog to come to her and he did. She stooped down to the pooch’s level and he rested his head on her knee. “Max, here, was the only one around to help me adjust.” She gave her helper an affectionate hug and then stood. “There are over fourteen of us now. So we don’t have to feel so…alone.” Jaime flashed the fireman another megawatt smile. “C’mon…I’ll help you…”
Chet mustered up a half-hearted smile and allowed her to drag him over to the start of the obstacle course.
Four—fantastically fun-filled—hours later…
Kelly was clearing the obstacles with one effortless bound after another. He leapt the last one, did a mid-air somersault and landed, a little shakily, right in front of Jaime and Max’s feet.
The pretty young woman applauded him. “Oh-oh, getting cocky, are we?”
Chet grinned. “This is great! This is really wild! And I’m not even the least bit tired!”
The two human cyborgs hugged.
“Thanks for showing me the ‘ropes’, Jaime…” Chet glanced down at the dog. “You, too, Max.”
“It was our pleasure, Chet!” the woman assured him.
Kelly suddenly felt a bit scared again. “Jaime, has there ever been a time…when you wished THEY…would have just let you…die?”
The woman’s eyes glistened with tears and she nodded. “All the time…at first. But you’ll get over it. I did!”
The fireman managed a brave smile.
The pretty lady pulled him back into a hug. “Promise you’ll call me…when the going gets rough…okay?”
“I promise,” Chet solemnly replied.
“I wanna be there for you…to help see you through the tough times. I want you to know that you will never have to face all this alone.”
Kelly’s eyes glistened, this time. “Thanks, Jaime.”
Jaime pulled back and planted a light kiss on the gloomy gentleman’s cheek. “You’re welcome! Now, c’mon! We don’t have much time, and there are still a few ‘wrinkles’ we need to get ironed out.”
Chet was directed to Dr. Wells’ office, later that evening, and handed a one-way plane ticket to LA. He stared down at the thing in confusion. “I don’t get it. What’s the rush? I mean, I don’t think I’m ready to go back yet. I’m just not ‘used’ to all thi—”
“—That’s a risk we’re just going to have to take,” the doctor interrupted. “We don’t know how he managed to do it, but one of your friends has tracked you down.”
“Tracked me down, huh? It’s gotta be Gage!”
“We feel it’s best if you return to LA, before he shows up here—asking questions.”
Chet accepted the doctor’s explanation for his sudden departure plans and smiled. “Wait til the guys get a load a’ this!” he declared, and motioned to the ‘new and improved’ him.
“Mister Kelly!” Wells leapt to his feet and then stood there, looking extremely alarmed. “No one must EVER learn of your bionic abilities! This program is a classified TOP SECRET! Remember? Only those DIRECTLY involved, that is, the doctors and patients, are ever to know of its existence! The Government has given this program’s SECRECY top priority! We thought you understood that!”
“Yeah. But my friends were right there! They already know how badly I was hurt! How am I supposed to explain my rapid—and miraculous—recovery to them?”
“That’s all been taken care of,” the doctor assured him. “All of your accident records, x-rays, medical charts and other information pertaining to your case have been…misplaced.”
“Fine! But what about my FRIENDS? They were THERE! Gage and DeSoto are paramedics, for cryin’ out loud! Trust me! Those two know how ‘critical’ my condition was!”
“Without proof, they’ll just have to assume they were mistaken…that they ‘misjudged’ the seriousness of your injuries.”
Kelly’s shoulders sagged in defeat.
Wells started heading for the doorway. “C’mon! I’ll drive you to the airport.”
Early the following morning, at LA County Fire Station 51…
Kelly strolled across the parking bay and up to the open doorway to the locker room.
The men on the Station’s A-Shift crew were seated on the benches in front of their lockers, changing from street-clothes to uniforms.
“How’d you find that out?” DeSoto was asking his partner.
“Well,” Gage rose to his feet and started tucking his uniform's shirttails in, “I checked with the FAC. They gave me a record of all the flight plans that were logged the night of the accident. I just went through them…and kept eliminating them…one at a time. The only one filed around the time of his disappearance, was an Air Force jet, scheduled non-stop, to Boston International. Then, I started calling Boston City ambulance services. One of the driver’s for South Boston Emergency Transport remembered meeting the jet at the airport and transporting a critical patient to Graham’s Medical Center.”
His shiftmates were impressed, and impatient.
“Well?…Was he there?”
“Did you find him?”
“How is he?”
John sighed. “I called the Center. They denied that he was ever taken there.”
Their Captain’s patience had also been taxed to its max. “Well, then…where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know, Cap…” Gage regrettably replied. “But, if he was taken to that Center,” he pulled an airline ticket from the top shelf of his locker and waved it through the air, “I’m gonna find out!” He stashed the ticket back onto the shelf, stuck his right foot up on the bench and bent down to tie his bootlace. “My flight leaves, just as soon as this shift is—” he glanced up at his partner and caught sight of Chet Kelly’s moustached face, peering through the open portal behind him. The paramedic’s mouth stopped moving…and his heart…and his lungs. He pulled so hard on his laces, one of them snapped. He lost his balance and fell backward, into his locker. John got his feet, heartbeat and breath back and then stood there in a state of absolute shock.
The rest of the guys turned to the doorway to see what their stunned shiftmate was staring at.
Kelly noted that the entire crew now appeared to be in a state of total shock.
Hank was the first to find his voice. “Chester B.?”
“Hey, Cap!” Chet cheerfully said, and finally entered the room. “Hey, guys!”
The ‘guys’ examined their friend from head to toe and then turned to stare at one another in complete confusion.
Stanley stepped up to the formerly missing fireman. “Are you all right? Where have you been? It’s been over a month…” Hank’s words trailed off and he just stood there, looking astounded.
The men all gathered ‘round their fellow crewmate.
Well, everybody but Gage. John was still leaning up against his locker, for support, and muttering, “I don’t believe it…I don’t believe it…I don’t believe it…”
Kelly drew a deep breath and stepped up to him. “Hey, Gage!” he greeted and extended a hand.
John numbly placed his right hand in Chet’s.
Kelly gripped it firmly—a little too firmly.
The paramedic sucked in a breath, his face contorted in agony and he dropped to one knee.
Chet immediately released his grip. “Ah-ah, gee! I’m sorry, man!”
Gage gasped and grabbed his right forearm. He glanced up, saw his friend’s pitiful, repentant expression, and was forced to smile. “Ahhh, forget it!” he urged, as his partner pulled him up off the floor. “I’m so glad to see you, I hardly notice the intense, incredible, excruciating pain radiating up my wrist,” he stopped teasing and broke into a broad grin. “Chet, you old son of a gun! What are you doing here? Where have you been? We couldn’t find out anything—except that you were alive…” his words trailed off and he gave his chum a ridiculously light tap on the arm. “Gosh, it’s good to see you!”
The rest of the guys agreed and gave Chet equally careful ‘Welcome Back!’ greetings. They acted as though Kelly might crumble, if they touched him too hard.
Chet saw that his friends were waiting expectantly for some answers. Ever since he’d left Boston, he’d been racking his brain for a good believable lie to tell them. He still hadn’t come up with one. ‘I’ll just have to tell them the truth,’ he realized. ‘Up to a point…’ He cleared his throat. “We-ell, after the accident, I was flown to a hospital in Boston, where some of the best doctors in the country examined me. They operated and put me back together again as good as new. Maybe even better!” he hinted.
Gage rubbed his sore right hand over his face and blinked. “How could they? Chet, I was one of the guys who scraped you up off that refinery floor. I know how badly you were injured—massive internal bleeding, multiple compound fractures. If you lived, it was going to take you at least a year to—” he stopped talking and glanced around the room at his shiftmates. “What am I saying?” He turned back to Kelly and flashed him another grin. “You obviously are alive, and it obviously didn’t take a year!” He gave his recuperated pal a tentative tap on the arm again and looked tremendously pleased.
Everybody looked pleased.
Especially Chet. “It’s great to be back!”
“Feels like you’re getting your strength back,” John understated and stood there, rubbing his aching right appendage. “Any idea how long it’s gonna be before you can come back to work?”
Kelly nodded. “Today!”
His friends’ jaws dropped open, as they were absolutely astounded once again.
Gage managed a nervous chuckle. “You’re jokin’. Right?”
Chet shook his head.
His Captain blinked and squinted and nervously cleared his throat. “You positive about that, pal?”
Kelly nodded again. “The powers that be told me to report to work on A-shift…today.”
His shiftmates stared disbelievingly at one another.
“Headquarters must’ve screwed up somehow,” Hank reasoned. “I think I’d better make a phone call.” The Captain spun on his heels and started heading for the phone in his office.
Kelly strolled over to his locker and started changing into his uniform.
Gage managed another nervous chuckle. “Chet, when that car hit me, it took me two months! And I wasn’t busted up near as bad as you!”
Kelly saw his crewmates were all nodding, thoughtfully. “Yea-eah. But it turns out that I wasn’t busted up near as bad as everybody thought,” he lied.
John’s jaw dropped—again.
“Besides,” Kelly continued, “we Irish are just naturally fast healers!”
The guys all turned to give Gage questioning glances.
The paramedic appeared positively stumped. “So-o,” he shrugged, “I...guess I made a mistake,” he numbly announced, and stood there, feeling terribly unsure of himself.
The Station’s tones sounded.
Gage held up his busted lace. “Anybody got an extra pair?”
His partner pulled a small plastic-wrapped package from the top shelf of his locker and tossed it to him.
“Thanks!”
Everybody began filing from the room.
“Station 51…Officer reports child trapped on a roof at 1411 West Noble…One-four-one-one West Noble…Cross-streets Dane and Atkinson…Officer advises you approach the scene non-Code R…Time out…07:58”
“Station 51. KMG-365,” Stanley responded and replaced the mic’. He turned to pass his paramedics their copy of the call slip. “Headquarters tells me it’s on the level,” he said, upon noting their questioning stares. Then he hurried over to the Engine and climbed up into the cab, beside Stoker.
“Let’s go, Michael!”
Michael and Marco stared at their Captain in disbelief.
Hank simply shrugged. “It's great to have you back aboard, Chet!” he called over his shoulder.
Kelly forced a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Cap!”
It just didn’t feel ‘right’. None of this felt ‘right’.
“What do THEY know about friends?” Chet grumbled beneath his breath.
Just six minutes later, the crew of Station 51 arrived—quietly—at the call site.
“Thanks for not using your sirens, fellahs!” Officer Howard greeted the men, as they scrambled from their fire trucks.
It was threatening rain upon their arrival. So, prior to pulling the compartment containing their security belts—and coiled ropes—open, Gage and DeSoto took a moment or two to toss their turnout coats on.
“Ke—Stoker, Lopez! Grab an extension ladder!” Stanley ordered. “What do we got, Vince?” the fire officer inquired, as he and his paramedics were escorted around the two-storied home and into a fenced in backyard.
“We can handle it, Chet!” Mike informed their friend, when he tried to help with the ladder.
Chet frowned and hurried off, to catch up with his Captain.
Kelly reached the rear of the house and found his fearless leader.
All four men were standing on the home’s back patio, staring up at the two-storied structure’s shingled roof.
A little four or five-year-old boy was perched upon the roof, precariously close to its rain-guttered edge.
DeSoto’s attention was suddenly diverted, as his partner took off, bolting through the back door and into the house. Roy finished fastening his security belt and went running in after him.
“The sitter was changing his baby sister’s ‘poopy’ diaper,” Vince informed the two remaining firemen. “She opened the window, to ‘air out’ the room. She ran out of ‘wipes’ and went to get some more. Claims she was only gone for a minute or two.” The policeman pointed to the thirty-foot TV tower that ran up the back of the building—and alongside of the open window. “He apparently used the antenna to get to the roof.”
The three men watched Gage climb out the same open window and then begin to scale the TV tower, too. Suddenly, water droplets began pelting their upturned faces.
The little boy started to squirm.
They were running out of time!
Stanley went racing back around the east end of the building, and began barking out orders.
Chet slipped away, to the opposite side of the house. He scanned the area, carefully, to make sure nobody was watching. Then he crouched down and jumped up—with all of his bionic ability.
Kelly landed right at the peak of the roof and grabbed onto it, to keep from sliding off—backwards. He dropped below the peak and peered out over the rooftop.
Gage had clipped himself to the TV antenna, and was currently talking to the kid. “No, Joey!” John pleaded. “Just stay still! It’s only a little rain. You must be a pretty brave boy, to come up here all by yourself. No-ow…you’re not gonna let a few little raindrops scare you, are you…”
The child obediently stopped squirming about.
However, before his paramedic friend could even exhale a sigh of relief, the clouds opened up, and it really started pouring!
Joey might not have been afraid of a few raindrops, but a torrential downpour was an entirely different matter! The kid started to cry and began crawling towards the antenna.
“No, Joey!” the paramedic continued to plead. “You mustn’t move! We’re gonna come and get you!”
The kid might’ve stopped moving around again, if a bolt of lightning hadn’t flashed overhead just then—closely followed by a positively ear-drum-shattering ‘CLA-AP!’ of crashing thunder!
“Johnny, wait!” Roy called out, as his partner suddenly unclipped himself from the antenna. “You’re not tied off!”
“Can’t!” Johnny shouted back. “The kid’s freakin’ out! He’s gonna fall!”
Chet watched John scramble along the slippery roof.
Just as Joey was about to slide over the edge, Gage made a frantic grab for the falling boy’s wrist. The fireman’s fingers tightened around it—and held. Unfortunately, the shingles were too slick with rain, and the rescuer felt himself sliding toward the edge of the roof, too. John’s left hand caught the copper eave trough and he hung onto it—for dear life!
Kelly scrambled up over the peak and then slid down to the dangling pair’s position. He grabbed a hold of the collar of Gage’s turnout coat—just as the rain gutter was about to give way. The combined weight of his burdens threatened to pull Chet over the edge, as well. So he stomped the heel of his right foot down, in an attempt to ‘dig in’, and stop his slide. The fireman’s eyes widened with surprise, as the sole of his boot broke right through the roof. ‘This whole ‘bionic’ business is definitely going to take some getting used to!’ he mused. Then he leaned back and carefully braced himself. “Quit jerkin’ around! Will yah?” he requested of his squirming captive.
John was being strangled by his turnout coat. “Che-et!” he croaked, through a crushed windpipe. “Let go! Or you’ll go over, too!”
Chet just sat there, in the pouring rain, holding onto his chum’s collar with one hand. “Don’t worry about me, Gage,” he advised, sounding a bit bored. “Just pray the snaps don’t crap out on your coat!” Kelly heard a commotion and glanced back over his shoulder.
Captain Stanley and Mike Stoker were crawling along the peak of the roof. The two men fastened some lifelines to the home’s chimney and then started sliding down to where Chet sat…calmly—and effortlessly—keeping a tight grip on Gage’s coat collar.
John could feel himself growing light-headed, from a lack of oxygen. His bruised right hand was still locked around the squirming kid’s wrist. He felt his grip begin to slip. The child’s wrist was wet, and his hand was still extremely sore, from Kelly’s bruising handshake. He grew even dizzier and started reaching for his crushed windpipe with his free left hand. Someone latched onto his left wrist and the stranglehold on his throat was released. Gage grimaced and gasped as he was spun around and pulled up onto the roof again.
The sobbing boy was hoisted up and the paramedic’s vice-like grip on the kid’s wrist was pried free.
John clutched his aching right hand to his chest and leaned back against the steeply sloping roof, to exhale a lo-ong, loud sigh of relief.
Kelly crawled over to his collapsed coworker. “You okay, Johnny?”
Johnny forced his eyes open and squinted up through the falling rain. Chet was staring down at him, looking rather worried. “Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay. Thanks to you!” the paramedic replied, with a grateful grin.
Chet smiled back and gave his chum a playful slug in the arm.
“Ou-ouch!” Gage cried out in agony, and made a frantic grab for his pained appendage. “What’d yah do that for?” he demanded, and continued to rub his latest bruise.
Kelly cringed and looked extremely apologetic. “Sorry, man.”
Stoker started down the ladder, with the little boy.
Stanley saw his Engineer off—er, down and then carefully made his way back across the rain-slick roof.
John just lay there, in the pouring rain, slowly shaking his helmeted head. “I’m glad I was wrong about your medical condition, Chet. I really am! I just don’t understand how I could’ve be so-o-o terribly wrong," the paramedic concluded, sounding even more unsure of himself.
“You two all right?” their Captain asked, and saved Kelly from having to comment.
Kelly nodded, glumly.
“Yeah, Cap. I’m okay.” Gage gave his mustached rescuer another grateful grin. “But it’s a good thing ole Chet got here, when he did!”
Stanley was staring down at the foot-shaped hole in the soggy roof. “Ye-es,” he dazedly admitted. “It certainly i-is…” His gaze gradually shifted to good ‘ole Chet’.
Kelly avoided his Captain’s eyes. He and Gage latched onto the lifelines and started to climb up toward the chimney.
“Hold it!” Hank called after the departing pair.
The two men obediently halted.
The Captain aimed his shrewd gaze at his mustached crewmember, once again. “We could probably get down a lot faster, if we follow ‘ole Chet’, here…”
‘You have no idea,’ Kelly silently concurred.
Their Captain cocked one of his bushy eyebrows. “How ‘bout it, Chester? You wanna take us down—the same way you came up?”
Kelly could just picture himself, placing one man under each of his bionic arms, and jumping effortlessly to the ground. Then again, on account of his sworn promise to keep the government’s TOP SECRET program a secret, he couldn’t picture it. “I want to,” he truthfully replied. “But I can’t.” That said, he started pulling himself back up to the peak of the slippery, steeply sloped roof.
John turned to his Captain, for an explanation.
Stanley looked completely stumped…and shrugged.
Marco watched, incredulously, as Chet Kelly came down the ladder. A truly remarkable feat—considering he never went up it!
John and the Cap’ climbed down, too.
Stanley started strolling over to their Engine.
Gage stepped up to his partner, who was busy examining the boy they’d just rescued from the roof.
Lopez released the ladder he’d been bracing and crossed over to Kelly. “How’d you do that?”
Stoker directed his attention to Chet, and stood there, looking equally curious.
Kelly saw that his comrades were waiting, patiently, for an explanation. “I…uh-uh…went around to the other side of the house…”
“—A-and?” Lopez prompted.
“A-and I jumped!”
Kelly’s crewmates had been expecting to hear a believable explanation. When they failed to get one, they gave their BS’ing buddy a pair of annoyed glares. The duo got the ladder down and then began carting it back over to their truck, all the while looking like they felt—completely disgusted.
Kelly spotted Gage and DeSoto and started heading their way. At least they were still talking to him.
Joey’s mother had returned home. The lady was currently cradling her crying child in her arms. “Do you think I should take him to our pediatrician?”
John removed the ped’s cuff from the kid’s arm and tussled the sobbing boy’s sopping wet hair. “I think you should take him in out of the rain,” he teased and flashed the concerned young woman a reassuring smile. “I don’t think Joey really needs to see a doctor—” the paramedic stopped speaking and his smile did a vanishing act, as something suddenly occurred to him. “Bu-ut you should probably get a doctor’s opinion on that, Mrs. Wittinger. I’ve been wrong before…” he confessed, his quiet words filled with sadness.
DeSoto watched, in dismay, as his dejected partner began walking off, in the direction of their rescue squad. He and Kelly exchanged a couple of concerned glances. The paramedic then picked up their remaining equipment cases and followed after his discouraged friend.
Chet gasped—in complete and utter exasperation. ‘I didn’t ask them to tell me about their precious ‘secret’ program! I don’t care what THEY say! I’ve GOTTA tell Ga-age!’ he silently resolved, and began heading for the Squad, himself. “Hey! John! Wait up!”
Gage closed one of their truck’s side compartments and turned to face him.
Just then, the Squad’s dash-mounted radio sounded an alarm. “Station 51…”
Apparently, their Captain had cleared them.
Speaking of their Captain…
“Kelly!” Stanley shouted. “C’mon! We just got another call!”
Chet gave John a slight shrug and went trotting over to his fire truck.
Kelly climbed up into the Engine and plunked his soggy self down beside Lopez.
Marco gave him a grumpy glare and turned to stare out his window.
Chet managed a weary sigh and turned to gaze out his window, as well. ‘Oh, this is just great!’ he sarcastically—and silently—realized. ‘First, Gage loses all his confidence! And now, these guys don’t trust me anymore!’ Well, now, that just wouldn’t do. That would never do!
Within a matter of minutes, Station 51 arrived at their next call site: a three-vehicle accident—with injuries.
The firemen piled out of their respective trucks and back out into the pouring rain.
Being as how their company was ‘first in’, Captain Stanley took a few moments to size up the situation, before issuing any orders to his engine crew. “Kelly! Grab a reel line and start hosing down these gas leaks! Stoker, Lopez! Break out our extrication equipment! We’re gonna need pry bars, the Ajax, the Porta-Power, the Jaws—the works!”
His men nodded and immediately went to work.
His paramedics didn’t need to wait for his instructions. The pair had already started triaging crash victims.
Kelly hauled a reel line over to the two vehicles with ruptured gas tanks and then waited for Stoker to signal that Engine 51’s pump was primed. He got the ‘go ahead’ and then began helping Mother Nature dilute the spilled fuel.
“My windshield wipers just stopped working!” one of the drivers involved in the accident told a police officer. “I couldn’t see the other cars! Honest! I couldn’t see a thing!”
Chet gave the poor guy a sympathetic glance. He looked back towards the car he was currently spraying beneath, and saw DeSoto tugging on one of the vehicle’s crumpled doors.
Roy couldn’t get the jammed portal to open. He swiped the window clear and peered inside the vehicle. “We’ve got two people trapped in here!” the frustrated fireman informed his partner, before moving on to the next wrecked car.
John acknowledged his friend’s discovery with a grim nod. Then he picked up the handset of their Bio-phone and passed along the vitals of the victim he was currently assessing.
Suddenly, Kelly noticed that the engine compartment of the car, with the two trapped people inside, was smoldering.
Once again, they were running out of time!
Mike and Marco were busy opening up another vehicle with victims wedged inside.
Kelly glanced cautiously around and saw that the coast was clear. So he latched onto the handle of the jammed door and pulled. The stuck portal didn’t budge, but its handle came off. The rescuer went flying backwards…and ended up crashing into—and onto—Gage.
John grimaced and gasped, as ‘somebody’ suddenly struck him—very forcefully—from behind. The crouched paramedic was catapulted forward and ended up being crushed between that person and their open radio. Gage gasped again, as his lower back bore the brunt of his tackler's weight—and his right ribcage made contact with one of the extremely hard corner’s of their Bio-phone’s case.
Kelly quickly scrambled to his feet and then helped the now non-breathing paramedic up onto his knees. He gave his grimacing shift-mate a ‘Please forgive me?’ look.
“I know,” John gasped, when he finally got his breath back. “You’re…sorry...right?”
Chet managed a sheepish nod. He gave Gage one last apologetic look and then hurried back over to the stubborn car door. He smashed the window in with the broken handle, gripped the door with both of his gloved hands, and pulled. The twisted metal groaned and the jammed door gave way. Kelly looked extremely pleased. He picked his dropped line back up and began hosing the leaking gas down, again.
Roy came trotting up just then. He’d brought a couple of backboards—and Marco and a pry bar—along with him. The paramedic saw the ‘already opened’ car door and turned to his partner.
Johnny was still crouched beside their open Bio-phone, massaging his lower back with one hand, and rubbing his right ribcage with the other.
DeSoto stood there, looking both puzzled…and impressed.
Gage got stiffly to his feet and began stumbling over to their Squad. “We’re gonna need…some more traction splints,” he breathlessly explained.
Roy gave his partner a respectful nod, and then went to work.
“Kelly!” Station 51’s commander suddenly called out. “Give us a hand on this pry bar, pal!”
Chet hurried over to the front of the vehicle Roy was working in, to help his Captain and crewmate.
The two men were attempting to pry the car’s crumpled hood up, so that the smoldering fire in its engine compartment could be accessed and extinguished.
Kelly set his reel line down and threw his weight into the bar.
Their pry bar gave, but the car's hood didn’t.
Stanley and Lopez stood there, staring down at the bow-shaped steel bar in their hands, wearing looks of utter amazement.
“Obviously defective!” Kelly quickly determined, sounding rather disgusted. “This is gonna require some hydraulics. I’ll go see if Mike’s through with the Ajax!” he volunteered and immediately made himself scarce.
Twenty minutes later…following the arrival of another fire company and two additional squads…
All accident victims had been extricated and loaded into the backs of waiting ambulances.
Chet watched as Roy attempted to pass his partner a couple of equipment cases.
John declined to accept them. “I’ll, uh, bring the Squad,” he offered instead, and then went limping off, before his paramedic friend could protest.
DeSoto gave his rapidly disappearing partner’s back a deeply concerned look and reluctantly climbed up into the back of the last ambulance.
Their Captain closed the vehicle’s back doors and it sped off, lights flashing and siren blaring.
Kelly followed Gage over to the Squad.
“Will they be all right?” the driver who had caused the crash anxiously inquired, as he approached the only paramedic remaining on the scene.
The fireman tossed the last of their equipment cases into the Squad’s side compartments and then turned to his questioner. John just stood there in the falling rain for a few moments, looking extremely solemn—and sad. “I’m not really qualified to comment on that,” he quietly replied. “But Rampart has some of the finest doctors in the country,” he forced himself to continue, and even managed to muster up an encouraging smile. “They’ll be receiving the best care possible.”
The remorseful man gave the firefighter a grateful nod.
“The very next chance I get!” Chet vowed—aloud—as the paramedic climbed stiffly up into the Squad and started driving off. The remaining fireman suddenly realized that he was not alone. He slowly turned his helmeted head.
Marco was standing there, in the steady drizzle, giving him a strange, suspicious stare. “Cap’ told me to tell you—we’re leaving,” he coolly declared. Upon delivering his message—as ordered—Lopez promptly spun on his heels and then headed back over to their firetruck.
Kelly couldn’t help but notice his chum’s ‘icy’, ‘distrustful’ attitude toward him. The forlorn fireman heaved a heavy sigh—of both frustration and surrender.
That did it!
“What do THEY know about the bonds of brotherhood?!” Chet angrily shouted out—for all to hear. “What do THEY know about honesty—and trust?!” he continued to rant and started stomping his way over to where Engine 51 was parked.
“Who are THEY to tell ME that I gotta lie to my friends?!” Kelly continued, and stomped right up to Stoker, who had been attempting—unsuccessfully—to straighten out their bow-shaped pry bar. Chet snatched the tool from the Engineer’s hands and effortlessly unbent the bowed bar. He passed the straightened object to his Captain and then climbed quickly up into his seat. “C’mon!” he urged. “Let’s get back to the Station! I have something I hafta—er, wanna tell you guys!”
Stanley stood there, staring down at the solid steel bar in his hands. “I’ll just bet you do!”
Mike Stoker backed his beloved Engine into its parking bay at Station 51.
“So you see,” Kelly spoke, over the loud 'hissing' of the truck’s airbrakes, “I must ask that you never EVER tell another living soul what I am about to tell yous.”
His three companions exhaled exasperated sighs.
“Che-et!” Marco exclaimed, giving voice to their growing impatience. “What do you want us to do? We’ve already promised you three times! Now…you either trust us…or you don’t.”
Stanley and Stoker swung around in their leather seats to face Kelly, and then all three men sat there, waiting expectantly.
Chet flashed each of his friends—er, brothers an affectionate smile. “I trust yous!”
“Well then, out with it, already!” his Captain prompted.
“Okay.” Kelly climbed down from the Engine. “C’mon!” he urged. “This is somethin’ that has to be seen to be believed!”
His fellow firefighters climbed down and then followed him across the garage and out the back door.
Stanley and his men stood there in the Station’s back parking lot, in the pouring rain, looking both impatient and upset to be getting re-wet.
Kelly glanced around, to make certain no one else was watching. “John wasn’t mistaken about my medical condition after the fall.”
His audience’s looks of utter disbelief were closely followed by looks of complete confusion.
“Now, I can’t give you all of the details. But I want you to know that, if they hadn’t a’ done what they did…I’d be dead.”
His Captain arched an eyebrow. “What did they did—er, do?”
“This!” Chet replied and proceeded to make several effortless bounds around the lot, clearing three of their cars by better than twenty feet.
“And this!” he added, stepping up to the Gage’s vehicle. He gripped the truck's bumper with one hand and picked the Rover’s front end right up off of the pavement. Chet set the car down and then leapt back over to his friends, who now appeared to be in a state of shock. Kelly stood there in silence for a few moments, waiting for somebody to comment on what they’d just witnessed.
But his audience remained too stunned to move or speak.
“Hey? You guys okay?” Kelly inquired, his words filled with worry.
His Captain finally managed to get his mouth to work. “How—how’d you do that?”
“They replaced my broken arms and legs with these ‘bionic’ components,” Kelly explained and proffered two of his new and improved limbs for their inspection.
His audience reflexively retreated.
Chet saw his fellow firefighters step back from him, in fear. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, the emotional pain evident in his voice. The forlorn fireman’s extended arms dropped limply to his sides. “I would never hurt you guys in a million years…”
His audience exchanged solemn glances and promptly stepped forward.
Stanley draped an arm across Kelly’s soggy, slumped shoulders. “We’re the ones who are sorry, pal!”
Stoker and Lopez nodded.
“We didn’t mean to be such...jerks,” his Captain assured him. “It’s just—” Stanley struggled for the right words, “—this is all so-o…gosh-darn unbelievable! We just don’t know what to make of any of this…”
Chet flashed his friends a bitter smile. “Trust me. You’re not alone.”
The four firemen heard the garage door grinding open.
Two doors slammed and then DeSoto’s exasperated voice filled the Station. “Johnny? Will yah listen to me? I’m tellin’ yah, you’re not ‘losing your mind’! There’s gotta be a perfectly logical explana—”
A third door slammed, drowning out the remainder of Roy’s comment.
The Engine Crew watched as John’s partner came striding across the parking lot, looking extremely flustered.
“He’s quitting!” DeSoto bitterly declared.
The Captain appeared to be as stunned by this news, as he had by Kelly’s. “Wha-at?!”
Roy nodded. “He says he can’t possibly understand how he could have been so drastically mistaken—unless he’s losing his mind! I told him that he should talk to Dr. Tyler—”
“—But Dr. Tyler doesn’t work at Rampart anymore,” Chet interrupted. “And nobody knows where he is. Right?”
DeSoto's bare head bobbed again. “He says he didn’t think he was wrong at the time. He wished he was wrong, but he never dreamt—for a moment—that he could ever make such an obvious error in judgment. So I suggested that he ask Dr. Brackett to check the x-rays and medical recor—”
“—But there are no x-rays or medical records,” Kelly interjected, looking and sounding rather sad.
Roy gave the seemingly ‘clairvoyant’ fireman another nod. “Without any evidence to the contrary, he’s convinced himself that he must be losing his mind. He figures that maybe he’s just been working too hard and that he’s starting to imagine things. Now, he’s afraid! So he claims he’s quitting—before he can make any more mistak—”
“—He wasn’t mistaken about anything,” Kelly interrupted, again. “My x-rays and medical records are in Boston—along with Dr. Tyler, who now works at Grahams Medical Center…” his soft-spoken words trailed off entirely. “Where is he?” he asked, and stared the quitting paramedic’s partner square in his troubled blue eyes.
Roy couldn’t’ve looked anymore confused if he’d tried. “Uh-uh, the washroom,” he numbly replied. “The stall door’s locked!” he added, as the Irishman started heading for the garage.
“Not for lo-ong…” their Captain quietly predicted.
Chet entered the washroom and stepped right up to the locked stall door. “Gage? C’mon! Open the door! I have to talk to you!”
Gage groaned and gasped in frustration. “I don’t really feel like talking right now.”
“You don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. You just listen.”
There was a long silence.
It was Kelly’s turn to gasp in frustration. “C’mon! Out of the john, John!”
“I’m listening…”
Chet reached up and gripped the top of the stall door. “I hope you’re decent!” he warned and started tugging.
The metal portal’s hinge pins popped, and its lock bolt slid out of its slot in the door's metal frame.
Kelly quickly set the thing aside.
Gage appeared. The toilet seat was down, the paramedic’s pants were up—and his bottom jaw was hanging open.
There followed another long bout of stunned silence.
“How—how’d you do that?” the seated fireman finally managed to stutter.
Kelly completely ignored the question. “You weren’t wrong about my medical condition, back at that refinery.”
“Of course not!” John calmly concurred, his voice oozing sarcasm. “I was absolutely right! I suppose that’s why you just busted that door down with one hand, huh? Because your other arm is still a little weak, from only one month of recover—”
“—I thought you said you didn’t feel like talking?” Chet reminded him.
Gage closed his moving mouth and his sad eyes, and exhaled a couple of weary sighs.
Kelly appeared pleased and continued. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I was smuggled out of Rampart…onto an airforce jet…and flown to a ‘special’ government research hospital—in Boston, Mass.?”
John’s eyes instantly snapped back open. “THEY said that you needed some special treatment, or something…”
Chet suppressed a chuckle. “Oh-oh, THEY gave me a ‘special treatment’, all right!” he agreed, but then his cheery demeanor quickly turned somber. “And…I’d be dead right now, if they hadn’t.”
The paramedic cocked his head and gave his confusing friend a questioning stare.
Just as Chet opened his mouth to explain, the Station’s alarm sounded.
“I don’t believe this!” Kelly complained and turned to leave the latrine. The fireman halted, seeing that his buddy wasn’t budging from his ‘throne’. “C’mon, Gage!”
But John refused to leave the john. “You go ahead…”
“You’re not ‘losing your mind’!” Kelly stepped into the stall and latched onto his stalled friend’s left wrist. “Now, C’mon! Get off the can, man!” he urged and began pulling the paramedic up off the potty seat and onto his feet. Upon hearing John cry out in agony, Chet halted and spun back around.
Gage was just standing there in the opened stall, looking extremely pale.
Kelly released the apparently pained paramedic’s left appendage and took a step or two back.
“Ahhh-uhhh!” Gage exclaimed with a grimace, when he finally got his breath back. “I think it’s only a sprain,” he diagnosed, following a brief, but thorough, exam of his ‘latest’ injured limb. The paramedic’s calm look vanished and he completely lost his cool. “WHAT IS IT WITH YOU?! I’M ALL BLACK AND BLUE!”
Kelly cringed and looked terribly apologetic.
Their Captain called them into the garage just then, and saved him from having to comment.
Chet gave Johnny a sheepish look and then flashed him a persuasive smile.
Gage’s grumpy look gradually vanished and he reluctantly began limping out of the latrine. “Special treatment, huh?”
Kelly’s smile quickly graduated into a grin. “You have no-o idea!” the 'bionic' fireman confidently stated, and followed his bruised buddy out into the garage.
Station 51 reached their latest call site in a little under four minutes.
The structure on fire turned out to be a local hardware store. Judging by all the smoke and flames that were visible, the single-storied brick building was already well involved.
The six firemen piled out of their rescue vehicles and began pulling on their air-packs.
Sirens continued to wail, as more and more apparatus arrived on the scene.
Chief McConike pulled up and parked his incident command car beside Squad 51. The fire officer then exited his vehicle and began barking out assignments. “Ben!” he shouted out to truck 123’s Captain. “You and your boys, open up the roof!”
Engine 14’s crew was ordered to cover the building’s rear exposures.
Finally, Station 51 received its assignment.
“Hank, have your guys grab some two and a half’s, and cover the front!”
Stanley promptly passed the Chief’s orders on to his engine crew.
Immediately upon their arrival, Squad 51’s paramedics had begun treating several coughing people for mild smoke inhalation.
However, as soon as one of the store’s evacuated customers had gotten her breath back, she had given the two firemen some rather alarming information.
The pair left the no longer coughing customers and went jogging up to their Captain.
“Cap,” Roy began, sounding a bit breathless, himself, “we got a woman over there that claims the fire started in the ‘painting supplies’ aisle. She mentioned something about someone leaving an electric paint-peeler tool plugged in, and somebody else dropping a can of solvent. She claims the storeowner is still in there. She says the guy made sure that they all got out, but then he went back inside, to fight the fire.”
Hank pulled the HT from his coat pocket. “Engine 51 to Battalion 14…”
“Chief, we have a report that the owner is still inside the store! We’re going in!”
“Roger that, Engine 51. I’ve already requested an additional squad. I also asked HQ to send a couple ambulances our way…”
“Thanks, Chief! Engine 51 out.” The Captain pocketed his radio and then turned back to his men. “All right! Let’s go!”
The five firemen donned their air masks. Then they tossed their helmets back on and re-tightened their chinstraps.
Stoker charged their hose lines.
Kelly and Lopez manned the nozzles and led the rescue party into the burning building.
Inside the super-heated hardware store, visibility was down to zero—unless, of course, you were within three feet of the floor.
So the fireman crawled from empty aisle to empty aisle, conducting a quick, but thorough, sweep of the entire smoke—and flame—filled premises.
The searchers followed a trail of discarded dry chemical fire extinguishers down the ‘painting supplies’ aisle and found the shopkeeper huddled in a fetal position on the floor, within close proximity of open flames—too close.
The fire victim was coughing fitfully and seemed to be both dazed and disoriented. The poor man’s unprotected lungs had apparently taken in a little too much of the store’s toxic atmosphere.
The man seemed oblivious of his rescuers’ arrival, and, when John and Roy attempted to pull him further away from the fire, he quickly became both uncooperative and combative.
“Cap?” Kelly called back over his shoulder. “That guy must be high on fumes, or somethin’. Maybe I oughtta give ‘em a hand…” he hinted.
Recalling how effortlessly he had raised John’s Rover, the Captain patted his approval of Chet’s proposal.
Chet handed his hose supporter the nozzle and scrambled over to where the paramedics were wrestling with the wild man.
Kelly locked onto the delirious guy’s flailing wrists with his ‘bionic’ grip and pinned the wildly thrashing fellow to the floor.
The victim immediately stopped struggling.
Thanks to Chet’s superhuman strength, the guy didn’t really have any other choice.
Gage and DeSoto gave their handy helper a pair of unseen grateful glances. Then they latched onto their submissive victim’s perfectly limp limbs and began crawling back over to their friends with the fire hoses.
Chet followed along on all fours, as the two paramedics towed the storeowner off down the aisle, and away from the fire.
Speaking of the fire…
Behind them, near the end of the burning store aisle, the fire had heated the remaining shelves of paint solvents to their rupture point. The cans of volatile liquid exploded, sending flames streaking everywhere!
Station 51’s firemen suddenly found themselves engulfed in an inferno.
Time was rapidly running out!
Speaking of running out…
Kelly quickly scrambled to his feet. He tossed the victim over his left shoulder and Roy over his right. Then he latched onto the back of John’s coat collar, for the second time that shift, and began running toward the ‘EXIT’.
Hank and Marco abandoned the hoses and raced off after their fleeing friend.
Chet exited the burning building and carefully placed his burdens down on the sidewalk.
Squad 36’s paramedics immediately went to work on the fire victim.
Stanley and Lopez came stumbling out of the store and collapsed onto the sidewalk, beside their two paramedics.
Kelly shoved his helmet back and whipped his air mask off. Then he stooped down in front of DeSoto and helped his friend remove his helmet and facemask, too. “You all right, Roy?”
Roy didn’t reply. He just sat there, staring up at his incredibly strong questioner, in stunned silence.
Chet gave up on getting an answer from him and turned to his partner. “What about you, John?” he pondered, and carefully removed the paramedic’s helmet and facemask, so he could hear his reply. “You gonna be okay?”
His half-choked chum tugged his turnout coat away from his crushed windpipe and gave him a look that was an equal mixture of aggravation and gratitude. “Yeah,” he feebly croaked. “Thanks to you.”
Chet turned his attention to the remaining members of their rescue party. “Cap? Marco?”
The two men slowly slid their helmets and masks off and then gave their concerned crewmate a pair of weary nods.
Kelly closed his eyes and exhaled an audible sigh of relief.
“Everybody seems to be okay—but you, Chet,” Mike Stoker suddenly announced. “If that big, black hole in the back of your left pant leg is any indication,” their Engineer solemnly continued, “you may have suffered a serious burn…”
Chet glanced down at the gaping hole in the back of his left pant leg and winced. From the ‘charred’ looks of things, his 10.5 million-dollar self was gonna be in for an all expenses paid trip back to Boston.
“Let’s have a look at that leg,” one of the paramedics from 36’s suggested and tried leading the injured fireman over to their squad.
But his burn victim balked. “Uhhh…John, here, can take care of it. Can’t you, John!”
Gage got to his knees and started reaching for his rather oddly behaving buddy’s burnt pant leg.
His patient panicked. “Not right here!” Kelly exclaimed and jumped clear of the paramedic’s probing appendages. “Let’s do it over by—er, behind the Squad.”
The remaining members of Engine 51’s crew exchanged smiles, and ‘knowing’ glances.
John gave his strange victim a matching stare and started struggling stiffly to his feet.
Chet took a seat on the Squad’s back running board and John began emptying its side compartments.
“There’s no need to ‘hide’, you know,” Gage teased, as he came limping around the back of the truck. “We’ve all seen your hairy legs before,” he added and set the three cases he was carrying, down at his feet. The paramedic suppressed a smile and crouched down to open their burn kit, their drug box and their Bio-phone. He removed a bottle of normal saline from their drug box, pried its rubber stopper off and started to apply the soothing liquid to his patient’s burnt leg.
“NO-O!” Kelly shouted and quickly shoved Gage’s wrist away. “You tryin’ to get yourself electrocuted?!”
The bruising blow knocked the normal saline out of the paramedic’s hand. The glass bottle hit the pavement and shattered.
John’s grimace was gradually replaced by an angry glare. “What’d yah go an’ do that for?!”
Chet replied with another question of his own. “Why don’t you just take a look?”
“I was going to! I want to wet the wound down first, in case your pants are stuck to your leg.”
“Forget that!” his impatient patient advised. “Just take a look, will yah?”
Gage reluctantly slipped his bandage scissors from the black leather pouch on his belt. The paramedic crouched down and, even more reluctantly, began cutting Kelly’s left pant leg away. Suddenly, he stiffened.
Chet watched in amusement as Johnny’s jaw dropped open.
The paramedic’s eyes about doubled in size and his brows arched up into the middle of his furrowed forehead. He stared disbelievingly down at the charred hole in the back of his buddy’s left leg.
His friend’s flesh had been ‘melted’ away, leaving some complex wiring, stainless steel circuitry and tiny hydraulic cylinders exposed.
Gage was left speechless. So he glanced up at Kelly, hoping—er, pleading for some sort of a ‘reasonable’ explanation for what he was seeing.
“I’m a cyborg,” Chet cheerily informed him. “I’m bionic,” he tacked on, upon seeing that his paramedic friend remained completely baffled.
“Bionic…” John numbly repeated, when he was finally able to speak again. The flabbergasted fireman turned to the open base kit beside him. He raised their Bio-phone to his right ear and inserted the call stick, but then hesitated to press the ‘send’ button.
His patient suddenly looked a little nervous. “What’s the matter?”
The paramedic looked completely perplexed and held out the handset. “Who do I call?” he pondered. “Rampart?…or Radio Shack?”
Gage had managed to maintain a perfectly straight face whilst posing his questions, so Kelly couldn’t tell if he was kidding. Whether—or not—Johnny’s remarks had been made in jest, Chet had found them most entertaining. He had even managed an amused snort.
The grin that John had been suppressing eventually escaped. He dropped the handset back into its cradle and plunked himself down on the running board beside his ‘bionic’ buddy.
The two amused amigos chanced a glance at one another—and finally cracked up.
Karen Stoker heard Chet Kelly snickering in his sleep. “Not everyone is having nightmares…” she commented to her still somewhat shaken spouse. “By the sounds of it, Chet’s having a rather pleasant dream.”
Mike glanced up at the giggling guy, in the hospital bed, right across from Marco’s, and was forced to smile.
Chet snickered again, and then groaned. His cracked ribs were reminding him that he was in no condition to be ‘cracking up’—even if it was just in his sleep. The hurting gentlemen moaned and groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked his sleep-blurred vision into focus and raised his head up, to take a better look at his bizarre surroundings. The rudely awakened dreamer glanced dazedly around the hospital ward.
He saw Mike and Karen Stoker smiling at him. The fireman flashed the couple a faint smile and then let his heavy head drop back onto his pillow. 'Crap!' He was still confined to a hospital bed! ‘Scientists!’ he thought, and grunted disgustedly.
Tired of staring up at the egg-sucking ceiling, he turned his head to gaze across at the motionless body in the bed beside his. Kelly couldn’t help but smile, seeing that his soundly sleeping friend was more off his bed, than on it. “Rampart?…Or Radio Shack?” he repeated—right out loud—and started snickering all over again. “Good one, Gage!”
Author’s Note: Johnny’s DMCST-induced dream is next up. :D