Chapter 13

 

     The men of Station 51 ran to the apparatus bay from their respective endeavors when the klaxons sounded that afternoon shortly after lunch.

 

     "Station 51, Truck 127, Truck 44, assist Squad 110 at the water tower on Locus Street.  Multiple injuries at this location including a Code I.  Wear full protective gear.  Approach from the east off Wilshire Boulevard and travel one half mile.  East off Wilshire Boulevard and one half mile on Locus Street.  Time out; 13:22."

 

     Like Johnny, Roy, of course, knew exactly where the water tower was located.  He opened a side compartment on the squad and retrieved his turnout gear.  He pulled his bunker pants on, then slipped into his coat.  For the time being, he shoved his gloves in one of the coat's deep side pockets.  Neil copied Roy's movements on the other side of the squad.  He climbed in the vehicle as Roy was starting the engine.

 

     "Wonder what's going on?"  Neil said as he grabbed his helmet from the hook behind his head. "Why would they be calling out a foam truck, plus a snorkel, on a run that only involved a squad?  And full turnout gear?"  Neil plucked at the sleeve of his coat.  "What's up with that?"

 

     For lack of anything better to say, Roy answered the man with an honest, "I don't know."

 

     "I hate Code I's," Neil commented without giving conscious thought to the fact that John Gage was working out of 110's today.  "It's always hell until you get there and see who was hurt and how serious it is."

 

     Roy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.  Despite his anger at Johnny, he could barely find the voice to say, "Yeah, it's always hell."

 

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     It wasn't until the men on the ground heard Todd's terror-filled shriek that they looked up. Matt Moran had just been subdued by the combined forces of Vince Howard and Bob Lawrence.  Vince cuffed the boy and hauled him to his feet. He led the struggling teenager toward the paramedic squad's running board.  Shawn wanted Matt to sit down so he could get the boy’s vitals before contacting Rampart.

 

     Bob's, "I'm going back up to give Johnny a hand," was drowned out by Todd's cry.  At first the three men weren't certain what was going on, as they watched Johnny do a macabre dance on the platform with Todd's body tucked beneath him.  But then Bob saw the swarming insects.

 

     "Oh, shit!  Shit!"  He raced for the squad while waving a hand at Vince's patrol car.  "Get that kid and yourself in the car!  Close the doors and windows!  Shawn, go with him and treat the boy!"

 

     "What the--" Vince stumbled backwards as Shawn shoved Matt at him.

 

     "Killer Bees!" Shawn shouted, while at the same time feeling like a fool for saying what sounded like a bad phrase from a bad late night horror flick.  "Africanized Honey Bees!"

 

     That's all the information Vince needed.  Like the fire department, the police department had been briefed about the bees.  In addition to that, Vince was aware of the media coverage given the insects in recent weeks by the Department of Agriculture.

 

     In reality, none of the men knew for certain if it was a hive of Africanized Honey Bees that had been disturbed, or a yellow jacket's nest, or some other species of wasp or bee.  What the three men did know, was that the bees were furious, and there were a lot of them.

 

     Shawn scooped up the bio-phone and trauma box, then grabbed the drug box from its compartment.  He raced after Vince toward the patrol car.  Vince shoved Matt in the back of the car, Shawn diving in with the teen.  Vince slammed the rear door then climbed behind the wheel.  He picked up the radio mike.  He informed the police dispatcher of the situation and requested patrol cars be sent to block all traffic from entering the area around the tower.

 

     While Vince was doing that, Bob was making the call that ultimately summoned Station 51 to the scene.  He put the mike back in its stand, watching helplessly as Johnny continued to twirl his body in an attempt to get away from the bees, all the while doing his best to keep them off Todd.

 

     Bob strained to listen beyond the closed windows of the squad. 

 

     Come on, come on. 

 

Bob silently urged the sound of sirens to pierce the air.  He was afraid Johnny would fall off the tower if help didn't arrive soon.

 

     The swarm of insects surrounding Johnny and Todd blanketed them in a thick, dark cloud.  When Bob couldn't wait any longer, he jumped from the squad and opened the compartment where his turnout gear was stored.  He donned pants, jacket, and gloves, then grabbed his SCBA and a fire extinguisher.  He had no idea how effective the extinguisher would be, but he couldn't just stand here and watch the horror that was unfolding above him.  By the time Bob got his makeshift beekeeper's gear in place, he heard the sound he'd been praying for.  Sirens.  Sirens and air horns.

 

     Bob took off his SCBA for the time being, but left his turnouts on.  The squad and engine from Station 51 had barely come to complete stops before the black paramedic was running toward them.

 

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     Johnny had been so absorbed with keeping a grip on the struggling Todd, that he didn't notice the first sting other than to register it as a painful annoyance.  John assumed he'd rolled onto a nail, or some other sharp object, until the annoyance was swarming him.  The bees tangled in the paramedic's hair, and stung his face and ears.  He felt their stings on his neck and bare arms, while at the same time they got beneath his shirt to sting his back and chest.  Johnny surmised the bees were on Todd because the boy was shrieking and sobbing, but stings to both his eyelids left John unable to see due to the rapid swelling.  He covered Todd's body as best he could and tried to run away from the bees, only to realize he had nowhere to go.  They were one hundred feet in the air, and had to descend a narrow ladder to get down.  Alone, Johnny might make it.  But with Todd clinging to him while bees attacked them, John knew that feat was impossible.

 

     Johnny wanted to scream at the pain right along with Todd, but kept that urge in check.  Screaming would only attract more bees, and only cause Todd to panic further.  The pain finally caused Johnny to collapse onto the tower's platform with Todd beneath him.  As odd as it was considering all that was happening to him, the one thing Johnny found himself wondering was if he'd ever discover why Roy was so angry with him.

 

     Whatever it is I've done, Roy, I'm sorry.  I hope you know I'm sorry.

 

 

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     The doors slammed on Squad 51 as Roy and Neil exited the vehicle.  They ran to the engine, gathering with Bob Lawrence on the passenger side.  Roy stared up at the water tower while Bob explained the situation in twenty seconds of rapid-fire talk.  Hank Stanley's gaze never left the tower either, as he reached for the mike.  He wasn't sure what Bob had already relayed to dispatch, but didn't waste time asking.

 

     "L.A., we have bees at our location swarming a paramedic and a teenage boy.  It's possible these are Africanized Honey Bees.  We need an expert on bee removal and containment here as soon as possible.  The Department of Agriculture should also be notified."

 

     "10-4, 51."

 

     As Captain Stanley was clipping the mike back in its holder, Truck 127 and Truck 44 arrived.  Hank jumped from the engine.  The captain of Truck 127, and Truck 44's captain, jumped from their own vehicles.  The three men huddled together in the middle of the street.  They came to immediate agreement that John Gage and his young victim had to be rescued without delay.  The tricky part of that rescue would be keeping every other man present from being swarmed. 

 

     Hank returned to Engine 51.  By now his entire crew was standing together on the sidewalk.

 

     "Okay, men, here's the plan.  The snorkel truck will take Roy and Neil up to the tower.  We're gonna get John and the boy off there as fast as we can.  Bob, I want you to stay here and set up whatever equipment is needed to treat them.  If Shawn can help you, that'll be for the better."

    

     Bob nodded. He didn't wait to hear further instructions. He ran to Squad 51 and began pulling out the trauma box, drug box, bio-phone, oxygen, and blankets.  The area across the street from the water tower, and behind Engine 51, was an empty lot owned by the city.  Bob earmarked it for his makeshift triage center.

 

     Hank turned to the remainder of the men.

 

     "The snorkel will spray water on the bees in an effort to keep them away.  As you know, that won't kill them, but it should slow them down a bit.  Once Johnny and the boy are in the basket and on their way to the ground, the guys from 127's will start foaming any bees that follow.  It's an iffy plan, but considering how high up they are, this is the best we can do."

 

     "We'll make it work," Roy said with firm conviction.  "We don't have a choice."

 

     "You're right there, Roy.  Our choices are limited."

 

     As Truck 127 and Truck 44 moved into position, Hank ordered his men into full protective gear.  Roy and Neil took off their helmets and pulled down from the inside the Nomex hoods that would cover their ears, the lower part of their faces, and their necks.  They tucked the hoods into their coats, shrugged into their SCBA's, put their masks in place, then put their helmets back on.  Roy never realized how much they actually looked beekeepers in these get-ups until now.  The men dug into their coat pockets for their thick gloves. They put those on, making sure the ends of the gloves were secured beneath the cuffs of the coat sleeves.

 

     Their bulky turnout gear and SCBA's made running difficult.  Nonetheless, Roy and Neil headed for the snorkel truck as fast as their cumbersome clothing allowed.  Chet watched the men as he finished securing his own protective gear in place.  He looked up at the brown cloud centered in one spot on the tower and recalled his bad bee jokes from a few weeks earlier.  Suddenly, those jokes didn't seem so funny any longer.

 

 

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     Johnny kept his face buried in Todd's back, while at the same time clamping a hand over the boy's nose and mouth.  The literature Doctor Brackett had circulated at the paramedic meeting stated that Africanized Honey Bees were attracted to the carbon dioxide in human breath.  As Roy had told the members of the

A-shift, multiple stings in a person's mouth and throat would result in swelling, and from there, airway constriction, which could prove fatal in a matter of minutes. 

 

     Despite the hand covering the boy's face, Johnny could hear Todd's muffled screams.  The paramedic wanted to scream, too.  The pain from the stings of the aggressive bees was overwhelming.  Johnny's bare hands, arms, neck and the sides of his face were bearing the worst of the stings, though he could still feel bees stinging his back and chest.  He'd quit moving when he realized there was no way to escape.  Because his swollen eyelids blinded him, Johnny knew to move meant he risked tumbling through the open area by the ladder and plunging one hundred feet with Todd in his arms. 

 

     Just when Johnny's pain level had risen to such an excruciating height that it was almost worth the plunge to escape the swarming bees, a blast of cold water slammed John to his knees.   Johnny held onto Todd as he fell to the metal deck.  The icy water was an additional shock John's body didn't need, but he wasn't going to complain.  The water meant help had arrived.

 

     Gloved hands pulled Todd from Johnny's arms.  Another set of gloved hands grasped the paramedic around the waist and dragged him backwards.  Johnny felt his feet slide from the metal of the tower's deck to the metal of a basket. 

 

     Snorkel truck, his woozy brain identified.

 

     The same gloved hands that had rescued him from the tower now lowered the paramedic to the deck of the basket.  Johnny was positioned so his upper body was reclining against someone's chest.  He felt hands smacking at the bees still clinging to him, then heard Roy's muffled voice.

 

     "You're gonna be okay, Johnny!  You're gonna be fine!  We'll be on the ground in a few seconds!"

 

     The anger that had been present in Roy's voice the last time Johnny had encountered him, was gone now.  If you didn't know Roy as well as Johnny did, all you'd hear in his tone was calm professionalism.  But the two men had worked together far too long for Johnny not to detect the concern hidden beneath Roy's professional demeanor. 

 

     Johnny would have assured Roy that yes, he was going to be okay, if he'd been able.  But his lips were swollen four times their normal size due to multiple bee stings, and it was getting harder to breathe.  Johnny reached a swollen hand up to clutch a patch of Roy's coat sleeve between two fingers as he gasped for air.

 

     “You’re gonna be fine, John!” Roy assured again over the noise of the truck that was taking them down.  “You’ll be okay, partner.”

 

     Someone grasped Johnny's legs around the shins as the basket reached ground level.  He identified that person as Chet by the man's short, choppy strides, though he couldn't be certain he was correct until he heard Chet's voice.  Like Roy's voice, Chet's was muffled.  Johnny pictured them in full turnouts, with their SCBA's on their backs and their masks in place over their faces.

 

     "They're set up behind the engine, Roy!"

 

     Johnny's body jostled between the two men as they traversed grass, then a curb, then the smooth pavement of the street, up another curb, and across grass again. 

 

     "Here!  Lay him here!" 

 

     Johnny's ability to mentally focus was growing dim.  Through what seemed like a hazy fog, he identified the voice that called instructions to Roy and Chet as Neil Kruetzer’s.  He could hear Shawn and Bob conferring nearby as they worked on Todd. 

 

Someone lifted Johnny’s head and slipped an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, while someone else wrapped a B/P cuff around his right arm.  The stings were agonizing to the paramedic now.  Johnny moaned between gasps for air and arched his back against the pain.  He shivered from shock, and the drenched clothes he was still in.  Several pairs of gloved hands swatted his body as his co-workers killed bees emerging from his shirt.  As bees continued to sting him beneath his clothing, Johnny wondered if this torture would ever end.

 

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     Roy recorded his partner's blood pressure, pulse, and respiration rates.  He looked up at the men assisting him.  Though everyone was still in turnouts, helmets and SCBA's had been shed.

 

     "Cap, we need to get Johnny's clothes off him.  Chet, get some towels from the squad!"

 

     Hank and Marco began stripping Johnny of his uniform, as Roy relayed the injured man's vitals to Kelly Brackett.  Bob had contacted Rampart while Johnny and Todd were being rescued in order to apprise the emergency room staff of the situation.

 

     "Rampart, B/P is 70 over 40.  Pulse is 130.  Respiration is 16 and labored.  We're removing Johnny's clothing now." 

 

     Roy reached up and took a towel Chet handed him.  As the last of Johnny's clothing was tossed aside, Roy began squishing bees against his partner's body.  It wasn't the best method, but it kept the bees from taking flight. Roy had seen Doctor Early employ it one time in the ER when wasps emerged from the clothing of a man who was suffering from massive yellow jacket stings.   Hank, Chet, and Marco began copying Roy's procedure, while Mike was on stand-by next to the engine in the event Trucks 127 and 44 needed assistance.

 

     "51, start an IV with Ringer's Lactate and give 50 milligrams of Benadryl IV.  Also, Epinepherine sub Q 0.3.  Monitor airway and vitals enroute.  51, what's your ETA?" 

 

     Roy turned as he heard another siren.  An ambulance pulled up to the curb.

 

     "Ambulance just arrived, Rampart.  ETA is approximately twelve minutes."

 

     "10-4, 51."

 

     Roy put the bio-phone's receiver in its cradle, then reached into the drug box.  He rubbed an alcohol wipe against Johnny's left bicep and administered the Epinephrine while Neil started the IV's.  Once the medications had been given, Roy grabbed a blanket pack, tore open the wrapping, and covered his partner.  Johnny's upper torso, neck, and face had taken the brunt of the stings.  He only had a few that Roy could see below his rib cage.  But above that. . .well, above it were more wounds than Roy could count.  Swollen red welts formed as Roy watched, and bees continued to crawl out from Johnny's hair. Chet was kneeling at the top of John's head, killing the bees as fast as he could spot them.

 

     The ambulance attendants arrived with two gurneys.  Neil and Roy lifted Johnny onto one, while Shawn and Bob lifted Todd to the other.  Vince would bring Matt to Rampart in the patrol car.  Shawn had relayed the sixteen-year-old’s vitals to Rampart while Johnny and Todd were being rescued.  Matt appeared to be in no danger, and had actually calmed down as he watched the rescue with rapt attention.   How much of it Matt's drug-altered mind understood, Vince wasn't sure, but if nothing else the teen seemed to realize his friend was in grave danger.  Without the reluctance that was normal for teenagers in the type of trouble Matt was, the boy provided Vince with Todd's name, and the name of the school they attended.  Vince quickly relayed that to dispatch. By the time Johnny and Todd had been rescued, the school's principal had reached Todd's father at work.  Mr. Fletcher had given permission for his son to receive any necessary treatment in the field, and was on his way to Rampart where he'd wait for the ambulance to arrive.

 

     Bob and Shawn counted just fourteen stings on Todd's body thanks to John Gage.  The boy was more terrified than he was hurt.  That he was high didn't help matters when it came to calming him down.  Because of the parental permission given, the paramedics were able to comply with Doctor Morton’s instructions to start an IV of Ringers on Todd.

 

     “Todd, you need to calm down,” Bob said as they strapped the crying boy to the gurney.  “You’re all right. Your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

 

     Those words only made Todd cry harder, but Bob continued to speak to him in a soft, reassuring tone. The paramedic knew Doctor Morton wouldn’t order a sedative for the boy since they didn’t know what drugs he had in his system.

 

     “Todd, it’s okay,” Bob assured again as he and Shawn loaded the teenager into the back of the ambulance. “You’re going to be fine.”  

 

     The men from the truck crews fought to keep the bees contained by the water tower.  Some bees escaped that containment, meaning the fire fighters, paramedics, and ambulance attendants working with Johnny and Todd suffered random stings.  But the bees were no longer swarming, leaving Roy to surmise the hive had been located and foamed. 

 

     Roy rode with Johnny in the ambulance, while Bob attended to Todd on the other side of the rescue vehicle.  They were cramped, but they made it work.  Shawn followed in Squad 110, Neil in Squad 51.

 

     Roy gave Doctor Brackett an updated set of vitals on Johnny, then pulled a flat plastic Rampart ID card from the drug box that was the size of a credit card.  Starting with Johnny's neck, Roy began working to scrape as many of the stingers out of his partner's skin as he could.  The sturdy edges of the ID card worked as though they were made for this purpose.  Roy knew that when the barbed stinger is planted in flesh the poison sac is ripped from the bee's body, disemboweling it.  The bee dies, but muscles attached to the sac continue to pump more venom into the victim.  And more venom meant increased danger to Johnny.

 

     Though Johnny's eyelids were grotesquely swollen now and rimmed bright red, Roy didn't touch the stingers there.  He decided it was best to let Brackett remove those.  As he worked, Roy spoke to his friend, offering what reassurances he could.

 

     "We'll be at Rampart in a few minutes, Johnny.  You're going to be fine.  I'm taking the stingers out now.  That'll help some."

 

     Johnny's swollen lips made it impossible to talk.  He groaned against the fire engulfing his body and fought to keep tears from leaking out beneath his lids, a fight he lost as the pain-inspired tears trickled down each side of his face.

 

     Roy wiped the tears away with a towel, then went back to work with the ID card.  There wasn't much else he could do but assure once again, "You're going to be fine, John.  I know it hurts like a son-of-a-gun right now, but you'll be okay."

 

     Roy barely caught the one word Johnny mumbled through his swollen lips, and that was further muffled by the oxygen mask.

 

     "Bee."

 

     It took Roy a moment to realize Johnny was offering up what humor he could muster.  He smiled, even though his partner couldn't see him.

 

     "Son-of-a-bee.  You're right.  I know it hurts like a son-of-a-bee."

 

     Like a lot of sons-of-a-bee, Roy, Johnny thought, and would have said if he was able.  He shook from bone-penetrating chills as awareness began to fade once again. Johnny didn't even realize he vomited into his oxygen mask, nor did he feel Roy and Bob flipping him on his side.  Whatever urgency took place in that ambulance from then until they arrived at Rampart, John Gage was oblivious to.  Later, Johnny would be grateful for that urgency on Roy and Bob’s part, because it saved his life when the massive amount of venom in his system caused him to go into respiratory arrest.

 

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     Roy was running behind Johnny's gurney down the ER corridor,  pumping air into his friend's lungs using the ambu-bag, when he realized the young victim who had been Bob's patient was Chris's friend, Todd Fletcher.  Based on what he'd overheard Bob relay to Mike Morton, Roy knew the boy was high on something and had suffered a few stings.  It was when Roy caught sight of Todd's father racing past him with a panicked expression, that the identity of the young teen Roy had paid scant attention to made itself known.

 

     Roy wasn't sure which emotion washed over him the strongest.  Anger at a kid whose foolish actions caused Johnny to be in such a serious condition.  Pity for the worried father who had been called to come to Rampart.  Or fear for himself and his own son.  Todd was one of Chris's closest friends.  As the old saying went, birds of a feather flock together.  If Todd was doing drugs, then it was quite likely Chris was as well, just like Doctor Brackett had reported to Roy earlier that day.  It could have been Chris skipping school that day right along with Todd.  It could have been Chris who was being rushed to a treatment room while Roy played out the very real role of panicked father.

 

     Right before Roy entered the treatment room Dixie was directing the gurney to, he heard Virgil Fletcher say to the nurse beside him, "But that can't be true.  My son doesn't do drugs.  We. . .we didn't see any warning signs."

 

     And neither did I, was Roy's heartbreaking thought, before his attention returned to the best friend who was struggling for life.

 

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     An hour and a half later, Roy backed the squad into Station 51. He and Neil had remained in the treatment room with Johnny for a substantial length of time, assisting Doctor Brackett in getting him stabilized, and assisting with the removal of the mass amount of stingers embedded beneath John’s flesh.   As Roy expected, the rest of the crew was waiting in the kitchen for news on Johnny. 

 

     "How's Johnny?"  Chet asked the paramedics before Hank had the opportunity.

 

     "It took a while,” Roy said, “but Doctor Brackett finally got him stabilized." 

 

The paramedic headed for the sink.  He turned the cold-water tap on, reached for a glass from the cabinet, and filled it.  He grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet above the sink and opened it.  He shook two white pills into his palm, tossed them in his mouth, then took a long swallow of water before continuing. 

 

"They started him on hydrocortisone, and will be moving him to ICU for the rest of the day and tonight if they haven't already."

 

     "What's the hydrocortisone do?"  Hank asked.

 

     "Combats the swelling and shock," Neil answered as he grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator, and then sat down next to Mike at the table.  "Johnny's not going to feel very good for the next twenty-four hours or so, but if all goes well and no complications arise, he'll likely be released in three or four days."

 

     Chet looked at Roy.  "What complications?" 

 

     "In some cases of massive bee stings, vital organs can start to shut down as a result of the venom.  It's unlikely Johnny will have any problems because of how quickly he received treatment, but that's the reason they'll keep him in ICU at least until tomorrow morning sometime."

 

     "Are his eyes okay?"  Marco asked Roy.  "I mean, there won't be any damage to his sight from the stings, will there?"

    

     "They don't know yet.  Brackett’s fairly positive the stings were limited to Johnny's lids, but until the swelling goes down a bit we won't know for sure."

 

     "He's gotta be hurting," Chet said.  "He musta been stung three hundred times."

 

     "Double that, Chet, and you'll be about right," Roy responded.  "And yeah, he was in a lot of pain when we left, but Doctor Brackett was feeling confident enough in Johnny's respiratory response to order pain meds, so by now he's probably sleeping.”

 

     "What about the bees?"  Neil asked of the men who had remained behind at the scene.  "Did they get them contained?"

 

     "A bee specialist from the Department of Agriculture was there when we left, along with other personnel to assist in various capacities," Hank answered.   "127’s and 44’s remained to help in whatever way they could, and Squad 36 was called out so paramedics were there in the event medical care was needed.  But, as far as I know, other than a few random stings here and there, everyone was fine when we left and they seemed to have it under control."

 

     "Did the guys from the Ag Department think they were Africianized Honey Bees?" Neil asked.

 

     "Yeah," Hank nodded.  "And they said John was lucky because it was a small hive."

 

     Roy arched an eyebrow as he thought of the hundreds of stings Johnny had endured. "What do they consider small?"

 

     "Probably about five thousand bees, meaning the hive was just getting under construction.  When completed, it could house as many at eighty thousand."

 

     "Man, I sure wouldn't want to meet up with eighty thousand of those little buggers," Chet said.  "Five thousand was enough."

 

     "I'm sure Johnny will agree with you there."  Roy took two more swallows of water before dumping the rest of it down the sink.  He washed his glass out and put it in the drainer.  He leaned against the counter, allowing his eyes to close while rubbing a hand across his forehead.

 

     "Still got that headache, huh, pal?"

 

     Roy shot his captain a half smile.  "Yeah.  Only now it's about ten times worse thanks to a couple of foolish kids, five thousand bees, and that accident prone partner of mine."

 

     "Master of Disaster."

 

     "Pardon me?"  Roy questioned Chet.

 

     "The Master of Disaster.  That's what I'm gonna call Gage from now on."

 

     "Chet--"

 

     "Come on, Cap.  You gotta admit it describes Gage to a T."

 

     "That may be so, but let's make sure John is healthy and back on his feet before you. . .or the Phantom, decide to torment him with that little phrase."

 

     "Sure, Cap.   Sure.  You know the Phantom never zings a guy when he's down.  Or maybe I should say, the Phantom never stings a guy when he's down."

 

     Hank pinned Chet with a dark glare.  "Maybe you shouldn't say anything, Kelly."

 

     Chet decided now was the time to escape to the dorm, where he wanted to use the telephone.  What he'd witnessed at that water tower was going to make for a great story to pass along to the guys at stations that hadn't been called to the scene.

 

     Five thousand bees?  Naw, ten thousand sounds better.  Or twenty.  Yeah, I fought off twenty thousand bees in order to save Johnny and that kid.

 

     As Chet made his way to the dorm while imagining ways to embellish the rescue, Captain Stanley headed for his office.  The remainder of the Station 51 crew sprawled around the TV in the dayroom.  Roy sunk into one end of the sofa, paying no attention to the afternoon game show Marco had selected.  His mind was on his oldest son.  He glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink.  The school day had drawn to a close twenty minutes earlier.  Was Chris at basketball practice like he was supposed to be?  Or, like Todd and that other boy whose name Roy had never learned, had Chris skipped school? 

 

     What else is going on with my son I'm not aware of?  Is he sitting on a water tower somewhere smoking pot, too?  Did he leave school today with Todd?  Is he somewhere getting into trouble, or somewhere hiding out in an attempt to avoid facing Joanne and me?

 

     Before Roy could draw any conclusions, the object of his thoughts entered Station 51 through the back door.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

     Chris had spent the day wondering where Todd was.  The boy never showed up in any class, leading Chris to conclude Todd had skipped school with Matt. If there was anything good about this day after Chris’s failure to get through to Todd, it was that Mrs. Banner was out sick. Mr. Rubach was substitute teaching in her honors English class, which meant English was fun for a change.

 

Ten minutes before the dismissal bell rang, Chris's conclusion was confirmed.  A secretary came to the classroom door and asked Mr. Rubach to step into the hallway.  A minute later Mr. Rubach returned minus the smile he was usually wearing.  A frown tugged the corners of his mouth downward, and he seemed upset as he stared out over his students.

 

     "Gang, I've got some bad news to report.  Todd Fletcher and Matt Moran have been taken to Rampart General Hospital.  We don't know all the details, but evidently the two boys skipped school this morning and climbed the water tower a few miles from here. They had to be rescued by paramedics."

 

     A boy sitting next to Chris laughed.

 

     "Why? 'Cause they were too chicken to climb back down?"

 

     "No, Jason, they weren't too chicken.  They evidently disturbed a beehive.  Todd was stung several times, but that's all the information I have."

 

     Chris took an educated guess as to what else had been going on at that water tower.  Drugs.  He was sure Matt and Todd had been up there doing drugs.

 

     If only I'd talked to Todd sooner.  If only I'd talked to Uncle Johnny sooner.  Then I could have gotten Todd out to Uncle Johnny's ranch, and Uncle Johnny could have talked to him.

 

     Chris barely heard Mr. Rubach say all after-school activities were canceled because of the news he'd just delivered. 

 

     "All students are to go right home," the teacher instructed.  "There have been news reports about Matt and Todd on television, but their names haven't been released.  However, the name of our school has been released, which means your parents will want to know you're safe."

 

     Five minutes later the dismissal bell rang.  Chris trudged to his locker, his dark thoughts making his footsteps slow and heavy.  He grabbed the books he needed and put them in his backpack.   As he was walking toward the exit where the bike racks were located, Coach Donaldson stopped him.  The man tapped his fist lightly against the top of Chris's bowed head.

 

     "Don't look so glum there, DeSoto.  I was watching the news on the TV in my office.  The paramedic who was hurt rescuing Moran and Fletcher isn't your dad."

 

     Chris looked up.  "A paramedic was hurt?"

 

     "Yeah.  Stung several hundred times by bees, the reporter said, and admitted to Rampart hospital in serious condition.  That is, if you can believe what those news people say."

 

     "Did they give the paramedic's name?"

 

     "Uh. . .John Page, I think. Or John Tage maybe.  Something like that."

 

     "Gage?  Was it John Gage?"

 

     "Yes, that was it.  John Gage."

 

     The coach watched as the boy took off for the door at a run.

 

     "DeSoto!  DeSoto!  Chris, are you okay?"

 

     Chris never looked back as he waved a hand in the air to indicate to his coach he was fine.  What a stupid question, anyway.  Of course he was fine.  It was Uncle Johnny who was hurt.

 

     The thirteen-year-old made quick work of opening the combination lock that kept the front wheel of his bike strapped to the rack.  He wrapped the lock around the stem of the handlebars and secured it, then jumped on the bike's seat.  Rather than go home like Mr. Rubach had instructed, Chris headed his bike in the opposite direction, toward Station 51.

 

________________________

 

     Roy stood when his son entered the station.

 

     So much for Chris being at basketball practice.

    

     Before Roy had the opportunity to do more than glare at Chris, the phone rang.  Mike answered it, then held the receiver out to Roy.

 

     "Roy, it's Joanne."

 

     Roy pointed a stern finger at his son.  "You stay right there."

 

     Chris wasn't sure why his father was so angry with him.  He shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed by the way the other men in the room picked up on his father's anger, and were trying hard to act nonchalant by making small talk with him.

 

     Roy turned away from the group, attempting to keep this conversation with his wife as private as possible.  Joanne's tone broadcast her upset as she relayed to Roy what a neighbor had told her about Todd and Matt, and how that same neighbor said all after-school activities were canceled and the students were instructed to go right home.

 

     "But Chris isn't home yet, Roy!  He should have been here thirty minutes ago if he left the school building as soon as the last bell rang.  Normally I wouldn't be so worried, but with the way he's been acting lately, and with one of the boys who skipped school being Todd--"

 

     And you don't even know the half of it yet, Jo.  How will I ever tell you the news Doctor Brackett gave me?

 

     For now Roy gave his wife the only news he was going to until he went off duty the next morning and could talk to her in the privacy of their home.

 

     "Joanne, Chris is here at the station."

 

     "At the station?  What's he doing there?"

 

     "I don't know.  He just walked in.  I'm going to talk to him, and then I'll send him home."

 

     "All right.  Just make sure you tell Chris he's to come straight home when you're finished speaking with him."

 

     "I will."

 

     Roy hung up the phone on that promise.  He realized then, that Joanne must have not seen the news reports on TV about the incident that afternoon since she didn't ask about Johnny.  That was all right for now. There'd be plenty of time to tell her the whole story in the morning.

 

     The paramedic faced his son and pointed toward the back door.

 

     "Let's go outside."

 

     Chris gave a quiet "Bye," to the men in the room who said in turn, "See ya', Chris,"  "Bye, Chris,"  "See ya' later, Chris," as though they hadn't picked up on the fact that Chris's father was pissed at him for some reason.

 

     When the door closed behind Roy and his oldest son, they were standing in Station 51's back parking lot.  Roy crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at his teenager.

 

     "First question.  What are you doing here?  That was your mother on the phone.  She said after-school activities were canceled and you were instructed to go straight home."

 

     "I know, but Coach Donaldson told me Uncle Johnny had been hurt, and I wanted to find out--"

 

     "Uncle Johnny was hurt, but that's neither here nor there at the moment."

 

     "But how bad was he--"

 

     "Since he's your confidant, maybe you should wait and ask him yourself."

 

     "Huh?"

 

     "Chris, why didn't you come to me or your mother?  Why did you go to Uncle Johnny with something that important?"

 

     "Because Todd--"

 

     "This has nothing to do with Todd.  It's you we're talking about."

 

     "Me?"

 

     "Yes, you.  Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was today when Doctor Brackett had to tell me my son was doing drugs?"

 

     "What?  Why would Doctor Brackett say that?"

 

     "Christopher, enough with the lies!  I won't put up with them any longer.  Your mom and I have always made it clear to you that you can come to us with any problem, any problem at all.  But to go sneaking around behind my back to your Uncle Johnny. . .well, I've already let Johnny know how furious I am with him, so now it's your turn to find out just how angry this entire charade makes me.  We have a lot to discuss, son, but this is not the time or place.  I want you to--"

 

     The klaxons sounded before Roy could finish.  The entire station was toned out.  The man thrust a finger into his son's chest.

 

     "Go home, Chris.  I mean it.  You get on that bike and you go straight home.  I'll be calling your mother later.  You're not going to school tomorrow.  You, your mother, and me, will be sitting down to have a long talk about your newfound drug habit.  No thirteen-year-old son of mine is going to endanger his health, and his life, in that manner.  I won't tolerate it in my home, Chris.  It's not allowed, period."

 

     Chris stood there with his mouth hanging open as his father ran into the building.  He had no idea where his father, or Doctor Brackett, had come by their misinformation.

 

     Me?  Doing drugs?

 

     The boy waited until he heard the truck and squad leave the station.  He climbed back on his bike and headed for the one place he thought he might find answers to all his questions. Rampart Hospital.

 

Chapter 15

 

    

     Chris locked his bike in the metal rack outside Rampart’s main entrance. He adjusted his backpack more firmly onto his shoulders and walked into the vast lobby. He approached the receptionist sitting at the wide desk shaped like a crescent moon. The gray-headed woman looked over her reading glasses at the teen.

 

     “May I help you?”

 

     “I’m here to visit John Gage.  Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

 

     “Afternoon visiting hours just ended, son, and evening visiting hours don’t start until seven.  Aside from that, you have to be sixteen to visit a patient.”

 

     “I am.”

 

     The woman arched a skeptical eyebrow.  “You’re sixteen?”

 

     “Yes.”

 

     “You don’t look sixteen.”

 

     “Well. . .I. . .I just turned sixteen last week.  I guess I’m kinda short for my age.”

 

     “I guess you are,” the woman said, while trying not to smile. “Regardless, visiting hours don’t start until seven.”

 

     “But I won’t stay long. No more than ten minutes.”

 

     The woman shook her head.  “I’m sorry, but those are the rules.”

 

     Chris sighed and stepped back so the florist making a delivery could have access to the receptionist. Chris looked around.  He spotted a sign pointing the way to the emergency room.  He glanced over his shoulder.  The receptionist was busy signing for the floral delivery.  While her attention was elsewhere, Chris disappeared down the long corridor that led to the ER.

 

________________________

 

     Dixie McCall glanced up when she heard the name, “John Gage.”  She saw a familiar teenage boy talking to one of her young nurses.  The nurse shook her head in response to whatever Chris DeSoto had asked her.

 

     Dixie stepped out from behind the nurses’ station.

 

     “Chris?”

 

     Roy’s son walked over to the woman he’d known since he was five.

 

     “Hi, Dixie.”

 

     “Hi, yourself.  What are you doing here?”

 

     “I came to see Uncle Johnny.”

 

     “Oh. Well, kiddo, I’m afraid that’s not possible right now.”

 

     “Why not?”

 

     “He’s in Intensive Care.”

 

     Chris paled. “He was hurt that bad?”

 

     “He’s not feeling very well right now, that’s for certain, but his stay on Intensive Care is more of a precaution than anything else.  If he remains stable throughout the night, he’ll be moved to a regular room tomorrow.  If all goes well, he’ll be resting at home by the weekend.”

 

     “Dixie, please. I have to see him.  Just for a few minutes.”

 

     “I’m sorry, Chris.  But no.”

 

     Chris leaned against the counter in defeat, his gaze dropping to the floor.

 

     “Hey, things can’t be that bad, Chris.”

 

     “Take it from me, they’re bad.”

 

     “How so?”  Dixie asked, hoping she could get the boy to talk to her since he apparently would not talk to his parents.

 

     Chris looked up, meeting the woman’s gaze. 

 

“I’ve been trying to help a friend, but no matter what I do I only make things worse.  And now my dad thinks I’m on drugs, and he’s really mad at Uncle Johnny for some reason, and Dad said something about Doctor Brackett telling him I’m using drugs, which I’m not, and, and. . .well, things are just really screwed up. All because Uncle Johnny tried to help me help Todd.”

 

     Uh oh, was Dixie’s thought as the realization dawned that she, and several other people, might have fallen victim to gossip that had gotten misconstrued as it made the rounds.

 

     “Listen, Chris, I was about to go off duty.  Can I buy you a snack from the cafeteria?”

 

     “I guess so, but why?”

 

     Dixie put her arm around the boy’s shoulders.  “Because I think you need to bend someone’s ear, and I think I need to do some listening.”

 

     And some apologizing, was Dixie’s last thought as she led Chris to Rampart’s cafeteria.

 

________________________

 

     Chris ate a piece of cherry pie he washed down with a glass of milk, both compliments of Dixie McCall.  Dixie now had the real story behind Chris’s moody behavior at home in recent weeks, as opposed to the one supplied to her by Gary Fitzgerald, as supplied to him by Chet Kelly.

 

     When Chris had finished eating, Dixie took him to the nurses’ lounge to use the phone.  She had him call Joanne so she’d know where he was.  Joanne was so angry Chris was barely able to fit in an explanation.  Dixie took the phone from him and calmed the woman as best she could.

 

     “Joanne, it’s Dixie.  Chris is with me.  He’ll explain everything when he gets home.  I’ll make sure he’s on his way before dark.”

 

     Joanne was confused as to why her son was at Rampart, but once Dixie assured her Chris was fine, and that he would be home before darkness fell, she calmed down somewhat.  She’d known Dixie a long time. Joanne trusted the nurse, and valued both her friendship and her judgment.

 

     “Dixie, just make sure he gets home, and soon.”

 

     “I will.  I’ll follow him in my car if need be.  Or we can leave his bike locked here overnight and I’ll drive him home if it’s dark before he’s done seeing Johnny.”

 

     “Johnny?  What do you mean seeing Johnny?  Dixie, what’s going on?”

 

     “Joanne, everything’s all right. Johnny was admitted this afternoon after being stung by bees, but he’s going to be fine.  It’ll be better if Chris explains the whole story to you when he gets home, rather than you hearing it from me.”  Dixie winked at Chris. “I think there’s been far too many stories circulating lately that haven’t come directly from the source.  I’d rather let Chris handle things from here.”

 

     “All right,” Joanne agreed.  If nothing else she now knew where her oldest son was, and she had Dixie’s promise that he’d arrive home safely.

 

     The women ended their conversation with a final assurance from Dixie that Chris would be home soon.  Dixie then led Chris from the lounge. She wasn’t concerned about breaking any hospital rules as she rode the elevator with the teenager up to the Intensive Care Unit. Ten minutes later Dixie took a seat in the ICU’s waiting area. She’d checked on Johnny’s condition with his nurse, and upon being told he was very groggy but awake, Dixie allowed Chris his visit.

 

     “I’ll be in the waiting area, Chris,” Dixie had said as she pointed the way to Johnny’s room.  “Don’t stay too long.  Johnny needs to rest.”

 

     “I won’t.”  Chris promised.

 

     The nurse had no more than taken a seat when the elevator doors slid open.  Roy DeSoto exited carrying a handie talkie, his mouth set in a grim line. He marched toward Dixie as she stood.

 

     “I was told you brought my son up here.”

 

     “I did.”

 

     “Not an hour ago, I told Chris he was to go right home.  Then I bring a patient in here, only to be told by Sharon that she’d seen Chris with you.  When she couldn’t locate either of you anywhere, I took a wild guess as to where I might find Christopher.  I don’t appreciate you bringing him up here, Dix.”

 

     “He wanted to see Johnny.”

 

     “I’m sure he did.  I imagine they need to get their stories straight before either of them is forced to face me.”

 

     “Roy—“

 

     Roy pointed toward the double doors that led to the ICU.  “Is Chris in with Johnny now?”

 

     “Yes, but—“

 

     Roy didn’t allow the woman to finish her sentence. He turned and headed for the doors. He slammed them open with the palm of his right hand and disappeared from Dixie’s view.

    

     “As I was about to say,” Dixie finished to no one but herself, “it would probably be a good idea to let Chris visit with Johnny for a few minutes, and then it would be a good idea for you to listen to what your son has to say before you let your anger take over.  Then you might want to get a hold of Chet Kelly and gag him. . .permanently.”

 

     Dixie collapsed back in her seat. She hated finding herself in the middle between Chris and Roy, but she was determined to stick things out and help the teenager in whatever way she could.

 

     After all, I didn’t help things any by going to Kel with what Gary Fitzgerald told me.  I owe Chris at least this much, even if my attempts cost me Roy’s friendship.  Chet Kelly, I swear I’ll gag you myself if I get the chance.

 

________________________

 

 

     Chris hesitated as he stepped into the small room where John Gage lay in a hospital bed.  The teenager wasn’t sure he would have recognized the man if Dixie hadn’t told him this was Johnny’s room.  The paramedic’s eyes were swollen shut, his lips looked like someone had punched him square in the mouth, and his facial features were distorted by random swelling.  He had an IV going into a vein in his right arm, and the head of the bed was at a forty degree angle. His right hand was on top of the blankets, swollen like a fat sausage.

 

     Chris shouldered out of his backpack.  He set it on the only chair in the room as he approached the bed.  Chris’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.

 

     “Uncle Johnny?”

 

     When Johnny didn’t respond, Chris spoke a little louder.

 

     “Uncle Johnny?”

 

     Johnny slowly turned his head so he was facing his visitor. He was able to open his right eye half way, and had clear vision using it, but his left eye remained closed.  His voice was hoarse and raspy, and his swollen lips made it difficult to speak.

 

     “Chr. . .Chris?”

 

     “Yeah, it’s me,” Chris said, as he came to stand at the side of Johnny’s bed with his back to the door.  “Are you okay?”

 

     “Been better.  But I’ll be okay.”

 

     “I’m sorry.”

 

     “For what?”

 

     “For getting you involved.  Asking for your help with Todd.”

 

     Johnny had to think hard to form his thoughts into words.  Whatever sedative he’d been given was making its presence known in full force.

 

     “Chris, what happened today had nothing to do with you asking for my help.”

 

     “I know.  But now Dad thinks I’m doing drugs, and he thinks I told you I’m doing drugs instead of going to him first, and somehow Doctor Brackett is involved. Uncle Johnny, all I wanted to do was help a friend.  I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with my dad.  All I wanted to do was convince Todd to get help without having to tell the principal what Todd’s doing.”

 

     Johnny’s swollen mouth made it feel like he was trying to carry on a conversation after being given a quadruple dose of Novocain.  He persevered, however, when he sensed how much Chris needed reassurance.  John knew he was mumbling at best, and hoped Chris could understand his words.

 

     “Don’t worry about it, Chris.  It’s not your fault. I don’t know what Doc Brackett told your dad, or why your dad thinks you’re using drugs, but we’ll get it straightened out, sport.”

 

     “I did invite Todd to your ranch before school this morning.  I thought he was going to say yes.  He did kind of say yes.  He seemed really excited about it, but then Matt came along and everything changed.  They left the building, and after tha,t I never saw Todd again for the rest of the day.  They must have skipped out together.”

 

     “From where I’m layin’ right now, it looks that way.”

 

     “Dixie told me they think Todd and Matt were smoking pot laced with PCP.”

 

     Johnny nodded his head.  “I know.”

 

     “Dixie said the cops took Matt to jail.  Juvenile hall, I suppose.  She said his parents might be able to pick him up later tonight.  She doesn’t really know.”

 

     “He’s in some trouble, that’s for sure.”

 

     “Todd’s still here.  Dixie told me they’re keeping him overnight.” Chris ran a hand along the metal bed railing as he dropped his eyes.  “I don’t know what will happen to him after that.”

 

     “Chris, it wasn’t your fault.”

 

     “But if I had told someone sooner. . .the principal, or Coach Donaldson, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.“

 

     “Maybe.  Or maybe not.  Either way, you’ll never know for certain and you have to accept that.”  Johnny fought to keep open the one eye that was working. He was exhausted and he had a hell of a headache. Not to mention the dull buzz sounding within his ears, that Johnny knew was likely a side-effect of his recent adrenaline rush, combined with one of the drugs, but it sounded enough like those damn bees to unnerve him.  “You wanted to help a friend while keeping him out of as much trouble as possible.   There’s nothing wrong with that.  Nothing at all.  You had a plan for doing just that, and if your plan didn’t work, you were going to tell your parents about your suspicions.”

 

     “You said I had to,” Chris reminded Johnny. “You said I’d have to tell Mom and Dad that I was trying to help Todd if he accepted the invitation to go horseback riding at your ranch.”

 

     “I did.  But you agreed to it because you knew I was right when I said you couldn’t keep something like this from your folks. You didn’t do anything wrong.  One way or another, you were doing your best to get Todd the help he needs. Sometimes the hardest job in the world, Chris, is being a good friend.”

 

     “But it shouldn’t be, should it?  I mean, if I’m such a good friend to Todd, shouldn’t I have known how to make him listen to me?”

 

     “Sport, take it from me,” Johnny mumbled while he recalled his attempted phone conversations with Roy that day,  “you can’t make a guy listen to what he doesn’t wanna hear. Not even when that guy’s your best friend.”

 

     “I know, but still—“

 

     “Chris, it’s time to go,” a quiet voice said from the doorway.  “You can come back and visit with Uncle Johnny tomorrow.  He needs to rest right now.”

 

     The rubber soles of Chris’s tennis shoes squeaked against the tile floor as he swiveled.  His father stepped into the room.  Chris waited, assuming he was going to feel a strong hand clamp on his shoulder, or hear the stern order of, “Go wait by the elevators for me, young man.”

 

     But neither of those things happened. Instead, Roy’s voice remained soft, and to Chris he seemed both sad and disappointed.  Though the disappointment didn’t appear to be aimed at Chris or his Uncle Johnny, but instead at Roy himself.

 

     “Here’s your pack,” Roy said, as he handed Chris the backpack that was sitting in the chair.  “Dixie’s in the waiting area. Please go there.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

     “All right.” Chris swallowed hard as he took his backpack from his father. “Dad. . .Dad, I’m sorry about coming here instead of going straight home like you told me to.  I just. . .I had to see Uncle Johnny for a few minutes.”

 

     “I know,” Roy nodded.  “I understand.”

 

     “You do?”

 

     Roy didn’t confess that he’d been listening to the conversation almost from the moment Chris had entered the room, but instead said simply, “Yes, I do. Now go wait with Dixie, please.  I’ll be there shortly.”

 

     “You can go now,” Johnny mumbled, as he turned his head away.

 

     “Johnny—“

 

     “Roy, I’m tired. I’ve got a headache. One of the medications they’re giving me is making me sick to my stomach, despite the fact Morton is trying to convince me it’s all in my head, and in general, I feel like John’s Pooh Bear after he got his head stuck in the honey tree.  Which means I feel like shit.  And Chris, don’t tell you mother I said that word in front of you.”

 

     Chris tried hard to keep from smiling.  “I won’t.”

 

     “Good. ‘Cause I feel crappy enough without having her mad at me, too.”

 

     “Johnny,” Roy said, “I’m not mad—“

 

     “Just don’t call me tonight, Pally, ‘cause I guarantee you it’ll be me who’s hanging up the phone on you.”

 

     Roy could hear the humor in Johnny’s tone, but at the same time he knew he was being given a message.  Johnny was letting Roy know he was angry with him for jumping to conclusions, but he was also letting Roy know their friendship was intact, and they’d eventually work through this.

 

     “All right,” Roy promised. “I won’t call you.  But you call me if you need anything.”

 

     “I just need sleep,” Johnny barely got out before he did, indeed, drift off on his visitors.

 

     Roy gave his son a small smile while putting an arm around his shoulders.

 

     “I guess when your Uncle Johnny says he needs to sleep, he means it.”

 

     “I guess.”

 

     “Come on,” Roy said quietly. “Let’s leave him alone to do just that.”

 

     Chris glanced over his shoulder at the man in the bed.

 

     “He looks pretty sick yet, Dad.”

 

     “I know, but if everything goes all right this evening. . .if he gets the rest he needs, and the medications he’s getting work like they should, he’ll look, and feel, a lot better by this time tomorrow.”

 

     “I can come see him after school?”  Chris asked as they stepped into the wide corridor.

 

     “Yes. As a matter of fact I’ll pick you up from school and we’ll visit Johnny together, how’s that sound?”

 

     Chris smiled up at his father. “Good.”

 

     Roy stopped their progress when they reached the double doors.

 

     “And after we leave here, you and I are long over-due for a private father and son talk.”

 

     Chris hung his head.  “I know.”

 

     Roy placed two fingers beneath his son’s chin and forced him to look up once again.

 

     “Not the kind of talk where you’re in trouble, Chris, but rather the kind of talk where we sort out what’s been going on the past few weeks and clear up all the misunderstandings.  The kind of talk we can have at a quiet restaurant where we won’t be interrupted by clowns hosting birthday parties, or by your little brother clamoring for attention.”

 

     “Okay,” Chris agreed, liking the idea of himself and his father, just the two of them, having a meal out together where they could talk for as long as they wanted to without John climbing into Dad’s lap, or Jennifer chattering on about something that happened in school.

 

     When they reached the waiting area Dixie stood. This time Roy did request that his son go stand by the bank of elevators at the far end of the hall.  Chris obeyed without question.  He sensed that his father wanted to have a private conversation with Dixie.

 

     “I’ll take Chris home,” Dixie said as she glanced out the windows.  “I told Joanne I would if it was dark by the time he was ready to leave.”

 

     “You called Joanne?”

 

     “I had Chris call her.  I didn’t want her worrying over his whereabouts.”

 

     “Thanks.  And I owe you an apology for how I acted a little while ago.”

 

     “No you don’t.  I owe you an apology for going to Kel this morning based on a rumor I heard, and not on facts.”

 

     “It was you who told Doctor Brackett Chris was on drugs?”

 

     Dixie nodded.  “It was me.”

 

     “But. . .but, why, Dix?”

 

     “Let’s just say I fell victim to gossip that had evidently been greatly exaggerated. . .or possibly just greatly misconstrued, by the time it reached me.  And for that, I sincerely apologize, Roy.  I should know better.  I’m always telling my nurses I won’t tolerate gossip, and normally I don’t.  But this time. . .well, I’m not offering an excuse, but please understand that I was very worried about Chris, and very concerned for you and Joanne.  I thought Kel was the best person to go to for assistance.”

 

     “And normally he would have been, had what you heard proven to be true.”

 

     Dixie gave a rueful smile. “Yes. Had it been true. That’s the kicker here, because what I heard wasn’t true.”

 

     “Just who did you hear it from, Dixie?”

 

     The woman hesitated a long moment.  She hated to make things worse than they already were, but she knew one way or another Roy would likely get to the heart of the matter.

 

     “Look,” Roy said, “I already know that the guys at 99’s suspect something is going on with Chris, because at the fire we responded to this morning several of them came up to me and—“ Roy stopped in mid-sentence as realization dawned.  “Gary Fitzgerald. It was Gary Fitzgerald who told you Chris was on drugs, wasn’t it?”

 

     Dixie gave a reluctant nod of her head.

 

     “And he heard it from Chet.”

 

     When Dixie didn’t answer the man Roy said, “You don’t have to protect anyone, Dix.  If you heard this from Gary then there’s only one person Gary could have heard it from who works with Johnny and me, and that’s Chet.  Gary’s one of Chet’s best friends. Somehow Chet must have overheard something Chris said to Johnny, or—“

 

     “Last Thursday.”

 

     “Pardon?”

 

     “Chris told me that last Thursday Joanne brought the kids to the station to see you.”

 

     “Yeah, she did.”

 

     “Chris was able to get Johnny away from everyone else.  They went into the dorm and talked for a few minutes.  That’s when Chris confided in Johnny that he suspected Todd might be using drugs.”

 

     “And one way or another Chet overheard them.”

 

     “I strongly suspect that’s the case, but you’ll have to ask Chet in order to know for certain.”

 

     Roy’s mouth set in a firm line. “Oh, don’t worry, Dix.  I plan to.  You can believe me when I say, I plan to.”

           

     The paramedic dropped the subject then. He rode the elevator to the main floor with his son and Dixie.  They parted ways in the parking lot when Roy headed for the squad, while Chris and Dixie headed for the nurse’s car.  Roy told Chris they’d pick up his bike the next afternoon when they visited Johnny.  He pulled his son to his chest for a firm hug, not worrying if that action embarrassed the teen.  Roy was simply grateful for the small things right now.  He didn’t even want to imagine what Todd’s father was going through at this moment.  He was thankful Chris had his head on straight where drug use was concerned, and he wanted Chris to know that.

 

     “How was Johnny?” Neil asked when Roy slipped behind the wheel of the squad.

 

     “Tired and uncomfortable, but otherwise stable. He fell asleep while I was up there.  Hopefully he won’t wake up until morning.  He needs rest right now more than anything.”

 

     “Yeah, I’m sure he does,” Neil agreed. “Hey, wasn’t that your son Chris I just saw heading across the parking lot with Dixie?”

 

     “Sure was,” Roy said, as he started the engine and drove the squad out of the lot.

 

     “What was he doing here?”

 

     “Same thing his dad was.  He came to see his Uncle Johnny.”

 

     “That’s nice.”

 

     “What’s nice?”

 

     “That your thirteen-year-old thinks that much of Johnny. Most kids that age don’t want anything to do with adults.  It’s nice that Chris is close to Johnny.  A teenager can never have too many role models to keep him on the right path.”

 

     “No, he can’t,” Roy nodded thoughtfully. “And you’re right, it is nice that my son has John Gage to look up to. Believe me, after today, you’ll never hear me voice one complaint about that fact.”

 

     Neil wasn’t sure what Roy meant, but he didn’t ask the man to clarify himself.  He could tell Roy was preoccupied during the drive back to the station, so Neil allowed silence to prevail in the squad.  Roy’s quiet demeanor changed to one of cold anger as soon as they arrived at Station 51.  He marched into the kitchen with Neil following.  The engine crew was just sitting down to dinner.

    

     “Glad you fellas made it back,” Hank said. “You’re just in time to—“

 

     Roy beckoned at Chet with two fingers.

 

     “Kelly, I wanna talk to you.”

 

     “Me?”

 

     “Unless there’s someone else in this room named Kelly, then yes, I mean you, Chet.”

 

     “But, Roy, I was just getting ready to—“

 

     “Chet, we can either have this discussion out in the parking lot privately, or we can have it with Cap in his office.  You pick.”

 

     “But what did I do?”

 

     “For starters, eavesdropped on a conversation my son had in this station with Johnny last Thursday, and then talked to Gary Fitzgerald about it.”

 

     “Oh. . .oh.”  Chet risked a glance at his captain. The glare he was receiving told the Irishman this conversation with Roy was best had outside.  “Yeah. . .okay, Roy.  I’m coming.  But you’re sure you don’t wanna eat first?  I mean, you’re probably hungry after all that hard work you did today, and my mother always says no serious discussions should take place on an empty stomach.”

 

     “I’ll take my chances.  Now come on.”

 

     “Okay, but I’d kinda like to eat before—“

 

     “Chet, you’re going to explain it to me, or you’re going to explain it to me and Cap.  You choose, but you choose now, because my patience is gone where this matter is concerned.”

 

     Chet stood, hastily shoving his chair aside. “I’m coming, I’m coming.  Out in the parking lot, you say?”

 

     “That’s what I said.”

 

     Roy turned on one heel and strode out the back door.  Chet followed slowly, like a convict about to meet his executioner. 

 

     The men in the station clearly heard Roy’s voice one last time.

 

     “I suggest you shut the door, Chet, unless you want everyone gossiping about what they overhear.”

 

     With that, the backdoor was firmly closed. The firefighters who remained at the table exchanged puzzled looks.

 

     “What was that all about?” Hank asked Neil.

 

     The paramedic shrugged as he accepted the platter of pork chops Marco passed him.

 

     “Beats me.”

 

     Hank looked at his engineer. “Mike?”

 

     “Don’t know, Cap.”

 

     Hank’s eyes traveled to Marco.  “Marco?”

 

     Although Marco could take an educated guess as to what was going on based on what Roy had said, he simply shook his head.

 

     “Sorry, Cap. I don’t know anything about it, either.”

 

     Chet, I warned you that your big mouth was going to get you in trouble.  This is one time you’re not dragging me in with you, amigo.

 

     Marco dropped his eyes to his plate and pretended to concentrate on eating.  He could feel Hank staring at him until finally, the captain broke his gaze.

 

     Hank sighed while buttering his mashed potatoes.  As Chet’s closest friend, Marco likely knew exactly what was going on, but Hank couldn’t fault the man for remaining tightlipped about it. Since Chet’s penchant for gossip evidently involved Chris DeSoto in some way, perhaps it was best to let Roy take care of this himself.  Hank had faith Roy would come to him if the intervention of a higher authority were necessary.

 

     Ten minutes later, Chet and Roy entered the station together.  Roy walked to the table and sat down as though nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place. The only hint as to how loud he’d been yelling at Chet came when he asked Marco to pass him the pork chops, and his voice was slightly raspy. 

 

     Chet bypassed the table, and the full plate of food he’d abandoned when Roy had summoned him outside.

 

     “Where you goin’, pal?” Hank asked.

 

     “Um. . .to the dorm.”

 

     “What’s the matter?  Not feeling well?”

 

     “Uh. . .no.  No, that’s not it. I just. . .I need to make a few phone calls and I. . .I kinda need to do it in private.”

 

     “I see,” Hank nodded.  “Well, all right then.  Go on.”

 

     “Thanks, Cap.”

 

     After Chet left the room Hank looked across the table at Roy.

 

     “What’s going on?”

 

     “Nothing,” Roy replied, while cutting his pork chop into bite size pieces.

 

     “Why is he in such a hurry to use the phone?”

 

     “Let’s just say he has some things to straighten out on behalf of my son, and on Johnny’s behalf, and leave it go at that.”

 

     “Are you sure you want to ‘leave it go at that,’ as you phrased it?  Or do we need to discuss this further?  You know how I feel about Chet and his gossiping.  If he’s caused trouble for   Chris or John, I’ll—“

 

     “No trouble,” Roy shook his head. “Or at least not any Chet can’t get straightened out on his own.”  Roy met his captain’s gaze.  “And believe me, Cap, Chet will get it straightened out.  All of it.  He might be on the phone a while, but by the time he’s finished, I have a feeling his days of gossiping are over.”

 

Marco stood to refill his coffee cup. “Now that I’d like to see.”

 

“Me too,” Mike agreed.

 

“I’ll go along with that,” Hank nodded.

 

Neil didn’t say anything, because he didn’t work at Station 51 often enough to contribute to this particular conversation. He’d come to realize though, after everything he’d experienced today, 51’s A-shift sure kept life interesting.

 

________________________

 

 

After the supper dishes were done, the men gathered around the TV set.  Hank thought it was odd that the sound of the television didn’t draw Chet to the room.  If there was ever a TV addict, it was Chet Kelly.  The captain went in search of his missing crewmember, only to find Chet still on the phone in the dorm.  Chet was sitting in the chair at Hank’s small desk with his back to the doorway.  Henry was sprawled at his feet.  Hank stood just inside the threshold, both Chet and Henry oblivious to his presence.

 

“So listen, Joanne, I’m really sorry. I know I got carried away and jumped to conclusions.  And tell Chris again for me that I’m sorry.  Thanks for letting me talk to him.”

 

Chet said a final goodbye to Joanne DeSoto, then hung up the phone.  Hank could see the Irishman had a list of names he was working from. Hank watched as Chet picked up a pencil and drew a line through a name he guessed was Joanne’s.

 

“Okay, three more, Henry,” Chet said to the slumbering dog. “Damn, these are gonna be the hardest. It was bad enough that Roy made me talk to every guy at 99’s, and even worse when I had to apologize to Chris and Joanne, but Brackett and Dixie are gonna chew my ass out for sure.  Johnny might show me some mercy.  He’ll act mad at first, but Gage has got too big of a heart to stay pissed for long.  But Brackett and Dixie. . .oh brother. Good thing I don’t have any desire to be a paramedic, ‘cause my chances of that ever happening will be over the second I finish talking to Kelly Brackett.”

 

Hank remained where he was standing as Chet dialed the phone.  The Irishman asked to be connected to Rampart’s ICU.  The conversation he had at that point was brief.  Just from hearing one side of it, Hank knew Chet was told Johnny was sleeping and couldn’t be disturbed.

 

     “But he’s doing all right?

 

     “Okay, that’s good.  Thank you.  Maybe I can see him tomorrow, huh?  Do you think he can have visitors then?

 

     “Sure. I can call in the morning to check. Thanks.  And

uh. . .listen, can you connect me to Doctor Brackett if he hasn’t gone home yet?

 

     “Oh, he’s just leaving Johnny’s room now?  Uh. . .sure, I can hold. 

 

     “My name again?  Uh. . .Kelly.  Chet Kelly.  Doc Brackett knows who I am.”

 

     Hank stood in the doorway until Chet was connected with Doctor Brackett.  The captain was forced to suppress a laugh at the way Chet stammered and stuttered the minute Brackett got on the line.

 

     Hank was tempted to stand there until he’d heard the whole story, but he resisted the urge and quietly left the room.

 

     After all, it would never do for a station captain to get caught eavesdropping. . .or gossiping, about what he overheard.      

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

     The challenges February brought the DeSoto family gave way to positive experiences the remainder of that school year.  Rather than Roy and Chris moving farther apart, as fathers and sons often do when a boy is entering his teen years, the problems caused by Chet Kelly ultimately brought them closer together.  Roy now felt the lines of communication were open between himself and his son in ways that he knew would benefit them both as Chris grew, over the next four and a half years, from a young adult into a man.

 

     June arrived, and with it came Chris’s graduation from Garden Grove Junior High. He played his trumpet in the band at the Friday evening graduation ceremonies, then stood on the stage with a girl from his class as they were presented to the audience as the class valedictorians.  It was an honor they shared for both having received straight A’s throughout that eighth grade school year.

 

     Roy and Joanne sat in the second row beaming with pride.  Johnny sat next to Roy with young John sleeping in his lap. The pride Johnny was feeling was just as enormous as it would have been had Chris been his own son.

 

     The DeSoto family, along with Roy’s mother, Joanne’s parents and sister, and Johnny, went out to dinner after the graduation ceremony ended. At noon on Sunday, everyone gathered again for a picnic at Roy and Joanne’s.  In addition to the people who had been at the ceremony, eight of Chris’s classmates were in attendance, as were several neighbors, family friends, the men of the A-shift - who brought their spouses and children, as well as Dixie and Doctor Brackett. 

 

     The picnic was an informal gathering, with people coming and going all afternoon. Joanne had purchased party-length sub sandwiches, and rounded out the meal with salads, potato chips, and a marble sheet cake that had been made by a local bakery.  In the whipped creamed frosting, etched in light blue letters, were the words, Congratulations, Graduate. Best Wishes, Chris!

 

     Johnny’s skill with a camera meant he had taken the pictures Joanne wanted at the graduation ceremony, and at the Sunday picnic.  Every possible combination Joanne could think of had been shot, from Chris with his grandparents, to Chris with his siblings, to Chris with Joanne and Roy, to Chris with his entire extended family, to Chris standing with his cake, to Chris by himself in his cap and gown holding the valedictorian plaque he’d been awarded.

 

     Afternoon was turning to evening, and the picnic was winding down. Johnny was sitting on the deck with his feet resting on the steps below him.  Though much of the Station 51 crew was still involved in a backyard volleyball game, Johnny had played all the volleyball he cared to for one afternoon. Joanne, Roy, and Chris were at the front of the house saying goodbye to Dixie and Kelly Brackett, who were leaving. Lori Stoker and Jennifer were perched on the low bench of the sandbox, engaged in animated

pre-teen girl talk.  Craig Stoker and John DeSoto played in the sandbox under the girls’ watchful eyes.  The remaining guests who weren’t playing volleyball were seated in lawn chairs talking, other than Roy’s mother and Joanne’s mother.  The two older women were in the kitchen, where they forever seemed to find something that needed to be done.        

 

     The last of Chris’s school friends had left shortly before Dixie and Brackett. Johnny had wondered if Todd would come to the party. Roy had told him Chris had invited the boy, but Todd never showed up.  Johnny had seen Todd accept his diploma at the ceremony on Friday, and later had caught a glimpse of the teen leaving the auditorium with his family, Todd’s mother struggling to walk with the aid of a three-pronged cane. But Todd had never approached the DeSotos, and it was Johnny’s impression that the boy was in a hurry to put his eighth grade year behind him.

 

     Johnny was brought from his thoughts when someone sat down next to him.

 

     “Hey, sport.”

 

     “Hey, Uncle Johnny.”

 

     “Good party, huh?”

 

     “Yeah.  It was nice.  Everyone’s saying they had a great time.”

 

     “Your dad told me invited Todd to come over today.”

 

     “I did, and he said he might stop by, but I’m not surprised that he didn’t show up.”

 

     “No?”

 

     “Huh uh.  He’s pretty much kept to himself since he came back to school in March.”

 

     “Is he doing all right?”

 

     “I don’t know,” Chris shrugged.  “I think he’s off drugs for now at least. Mr. Fletcher sent Todd to some clinic Doctor Brackett told him about. After Todd came back to school, he didn’t join the band again, or play in any sports.  He just came to classes and then went straight home.  He spent the weekend here with me once, but things. . .well, they aren’t the same between us anymore.  I know he’s still really upset about his mom.  That disease. . .Huntington’s. . .it’s bad, isn’t it?”

 

     “It is.  Unfortunately, there’s no cure at this time, and not much hope for one in the near future.”

 

     “My dad told me Todd and his brother each have a fifty percent chance of getting it.”

 

     “They do.”

 

     “It must be really difficult to have to worry about your future like that when you’re only thirteen.”

 

     Johnny smiled at the teen. “Christopher, you’re wise beyond your years.”

 

      “I know it doesn’t excuse what Todd did, but knowing that his mom has Huntington’s helps me understand why he did it.”

 

     “Todd’s traveling a very rough road,” Johnny agreed. “And every one of us navigates those rough roads using different methods. Todd was trying his best to forget his troubles.  His choices in how to do that weren’t the smartest ones he could have made, but like you said, I can understand why he chose the path he did.”

 

     “I hope he’ll do okay next year when we’re in high school.  I mean, I hope he doesn’t fall in with the wrong crowd again.”

 

     “I know you do, sport, but you have no control over that.  All you can do is offer Todd your friendship.  If he turns it down. . .well, at least you can say you tried.”

 

     “I guess,” Chris agreed as a shout of triumph came from the makeshift volleyball court. He glanced over at the players, then looked up at Johnny again.  “At least Matt Moran won’t be in school with us anymore.”

 

     Johnny nodded. The incident in February hadn’t been Matt’s first brush with the law. He didn’t return to school after he was released to his parents, but instead was eventually sentenced to spend a year in a state-run boys’ home.  In May the word around Garden Grove Junior High was that Matt had fled the home one late night and hadn’t been seen since.  A few days later that story was confirmed to Joanne by a friend of Matt’s mother.

 

     “Uncle Johnny, how come some friendships last through a lot of things. . .good things and bad things, and some don’t?”

 

     Johnny chuckled.  “I don’t really have an answer for you on that one, Chris.  Why do you ask?”

 

     “Just thinking about Todd, I guess. I’ve tried to be his friend since he came back to school, and things are okay between us, but our friendship’s not like it was before January.  There’s

something. . .missing.  Whatever made us friends. . .made us like hanging out with one another, isn’t there anymore. But you and Dad. . .well, you guys kind of had a—“

 

     Chris stopped, not certain if he should say what he was thinking.

 

     “Falling out?” Johnny supplied.

 

     “Yeah. The two of you kind of had a falling out in February over all this, but everything’s okay now and you’re still best friends.”

 

     Johnny nodded in acknowledgement of Chris’s words. The day after Chris and Roy had seen Johnny in Intensive Care, John had been moved to a regular room.  Roy brought Chris by to visit at the end of the school day as he had promised his son he would, then when that visit was over, Roy sent Chris to the cafeteria for a snack so he could speak with his partner alone.  As conversations go, it was relatively brief.  Roy explained the havoc Chet’s gossip had caused, and then apologized for jumping to conclusions.  He finished by saying, “Thanks for being such a good

friend, and uncle, to my son.  I couldn’t ask for a better mentor for Chris, and if there are times during the next few years he feels more comfortable talking to you about his problems than he does talking to me, then so be it. I trust your judgment, Johnny.  I know I didn’t do a very good job of showing you that the other day, but I do trust your judgment where Christopher is concerned. Where all my kids are concerned.  I’m sorry for giving you any other impression but that.”

 

     Johnny couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said, other than, “Don’t worry about it,” and, “When I get a hold of Chet, I swear I’m gonna knock his block off this time.”

 

     Roy had laughed then and responded with, “You’re going to have to take a number.”

 

     “Huh?”

 

     “You’ll have to get in line behind Joanne, Doctor Brackett, Dixie, and Gary Fitzgerald.  There’s several people that would like to knock Chet’s block off right now, or at least stuff a gag in his mouth.”

 

     “Now there’s an idea,” Johnny had agreed.

 

     The paramedic brought his attention back to the present.  He still had no solid answer for Chris, other than to say, “Your dad and I have been friends for close to nine years, Chris.  As you said, we’ve seen each other through good times and bad times.  I can’t explain why our friendship has remained solid, and grown stronger, with each passing year.  God knows we’re as opposite as night and day, there’s no doubt about that. And God knows we’ve had our share of arguments and disagreements - I’ll never deny that either.  But, I guess that’s part of the magic of friendship.  Sometimes it’s impossible to define what draws two people together.  It’s easy to explain why and how you’re Jennifer’s brother, or John’s brother, or a member of this family, but friendship. . .well, the neat thing about it is, you do literally choose your friends, and often times you’re not even aware that choice is being made when the friendship is first forming. It’s not until months, or even years later, that you realize how important that friend has grown to be.”

 

     Chris nodded.  He was looking forward to starting high school at the end of August, and being reunited with his best friend from grade school, Dean.  Just like Chris had a feeling his dad and his Uncle Johnny would remain life-long friends, Chris was sure the same was going to hold true for himself and Dean.  Todd. . .well, Chris would extend his friendship to Todd again in August, but whatever part of being someone’s friend was ‘magic,’ as Uncle Johnny had referred to it, Chris didn’t think would exist between himself and Todd any longer.

 

     Neither Chris nor Johnny had been aware of the three pictures that had been snapped with Johnny’s camera as they sat talking.  Roy had picked the camera up from the living room coffee table and walked around the house with it.  Johnny had long ago taught him that the best shots were taken when your subjects are completely unaware of the camera, as opposed to posing for it.  Earlier that afternoon Joanne had remarked that they needed some pictures of Chris with Johnny before the graduation festivities ended, so Roy was determined to get them for her.  It was when Roy was in the process of taking the fourth picture, that Johnny caught sight of him. He turned toward the camera, grinning.

 

     “Hey, what are you—“

 

     Roy smiled. “Perfect,” he said to both his partner and his son.  Chris was facing the camera and grinning now, too, and Roy was able to get the shot before Johnny’s or Chris’s facial expressions changed.

 

      Joanne came to the patio doors and took the camera from Roy for safekeeping as the volleyball game drew to a close and sweaty firemen invaded her deck.  The men grabbed cold drinks from the cooler and dropped into the nearest chairs.

 

     Good-natured ribbing made the rounds amongst the winners and losers.  Chet had barely finished touting his team’s victory when Joanne, her mother, and mother-in-law, came out of the house carrying platters of leftovers. Everyone got to their feet and lined up by the picnic table for supper.  As the adults waited behind the smallest children, whose plates were being filled first, Chet said to his co-workers,  “Hey, did you guys hear about Vic Martindale from over at 88’s?”

 

     “No,” Mike answered. “What about him?”

 

     “Well, I heard Vic’s dating one of the Rampart nurses, except she’s dating a doctor from orthopedics, and the doc doesn’t know she’s two-timing on him. And, get a load of this, the doctor. . .I didn’t get his name, but I will. . .he’s a black belt in karate, and some kind of professional kick-boxer, so the guys at 88’s have a pool going about how soon Vic’s gonna have his face smeared into the—“

 

     “Kelly!”

 

     Chet turned innocent eyes on his captain.  “Yeah, Cap?”

 

     “Haven’t you learned anything about gossip in recent months?”

 

     “Well sure, Cap. But this isn’t really gossip, because Olson from over at 88’s is a friend of Martindale’s, so he should know this stuff is true, don’t you see?”

 

     “Chet?”

 

     “Yeah, Cap?”

 

     Hank picked a sandwich up from the tray in front of him. He turned around and crammed it into Chet’s open mouth.

 

     “Stuff a sandwich in it, Kelly. And keep it there.”

 

     Around a mouthful of bread and ham Chet muttered, “But, Cap—“

 

     “Aw, Chet, shut up,” Johnny said.

 

     And for once, where Chet Kelly was concerned, John Gage had the last word.

 

    

~~~~~~~

      

 

Thank you to Audrey and Terri, my valued friends and ever-faithful E! research team. 

 

Thank you, Debbie, for your beta reading skills.  You're one in a million!

 

Thank you to Doctor Marybeth Lambe.  Emergency room physician, fellow newspaper columnist, fan fic medical consultant, and dear friend.

 

 

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