“My name’s Turner. My crew and I were just about to wrap up our day. This section of the sewer system has been shut down for several weeks now. We’re inspecting the walls for cracks and weaknesses, and doing some minor maintenance in this area. I was waiting for my two men to come up when this… this druggie runs up and shoves me down, and the next thing I know he’s going down the manhole. Then the deputy drives up, but by that time, the guy was gone. I can’t raise either of my men on the radio. If everything was all right, they should have come out of there by now. They’ve been down there almost twenty minutes. They’re gonna be running short of air pretty soon. That is, if they’re still alive.”

“I’ve already called for backup,” Vince informed Stanley. “Some other units are responding to help me cordon off the area. Since it’s a potential hostage situation in a confined space, they’re sending a SWAT team. I didn’t see that the guy was carrying any kind of weapon, but there’s a chance he could have had something hidden.”

“Vince, you’re the one in charge. What do you want us to do?” Stanley asked. “My guess is that guy isn’t going to last long down there without an air tank, and if the other two are hurt or low on air.... We don’t have much time.”

Dangerous as it could be for the firefighters, Vince decided he had no option but to let them go down and start the search for the DWP workers.

Hank Stanley asked to see the drawings of the tunnels below the street, then told four of his men to get their gear on. By the time they were ready, he had his course of action mapped out.

“DeSoto, Gage. Turner says his two men were at section D19 when they had their last radio communication. He says it was about two minutes later that the guy went down the manhole, so he figures that would have put them right about… here.” Stanley’s finger landed on the spot on the drawings where he wanted them to go.

“Kelly, Lopez. I want you two to go down the street with Mr. Turner. He’s gonna take you to the manhole here....” His finger landed on another spot. “The tunnel is closed off in the other direction, so we’re guessing our man went this way. There are a lot of branches and smaller feeder drains down there, so you’re gonna need to pay real close attention to where you are at all times, and check in with me at every section. That goes for all of you, is that understood?”

Four heads nodded.

“One other thing. No one plays the hero, got it? If he’s on drugs, this guy could be dangerous. You spot him still conscious, you back off and radio us up here. By that time the SWAT team should be here, and they can take over. Keep an eye on the time so you know how much air you’ve got left. It’s bad down there. The DWP crew took some readings when they got here -- there’s a lot of carbon dioxide, and some pockets of methane, and low levels of hydrogen sulfide. In other words, not much oxygen, so the chances are this guy isn’t going to be on his feet for long. Just make sure you don’t join him.

Johnny followed Roy down the manhole, while Chet and Marco climbed into the DWP truck. There would be almost a half-mile between where the two teams were to start their search. Marco noticed Chet’s nervousness, which he found odd. He knew Chet was as tough as nails when it came to fighting fires. A little search in some sewer tunnels didn’t begin to match the danger of a raging inferno.

“What’s with you, Chet?” Marco asked.

Chet looked at his friend for a minute, knowing how stupid this was going to sound. “I hate underground tunnels. They remind me of… THEM.”

“Them?”

“No, not them. THEM. You know, the movie. The giant mutant ants that had their nest in the storm drains. They had to burn them with flame throwers to kill them.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Only you, Chet....”

* * * * * * * *

“Roy. I think I heard somethin’.”

Johnny trained his flashlight in the direction he thought the sound came from. Down here, even the slightest noise echoed off the walls, and could be deceptive in its origin. They removed their air masks for just a minute, so they could hear over the sound of their forced breathing. Mixed with other unpleasant odors, the smell of rotten eggs assaulted their nostrils and almost made them gag. It was a good thing, though -- it’s when you can no longer smell the toxic sulfide that the levels are dangerously high -- and very deadly.

A movement caught their attention.

Donning their face masks again, together they cautiously moved forward in virtual darkness.

Roy’s hand on his arm stopped Johnny in his tracks.

The beam of light picked up an orange hard-hat, laying on the floor of the tunnel. A man suddenly stepped out a few yards ahead of them, his light picking them up at the same instant theirs hit him.

All three swallowed hard in relief when they realized it wasn’t the assailant.

“Boy, am I ever glad to see you. My partner’s hurt. He’s over here.” He led them a few more yards down the tunnel to where his coworker was sitting, propped up in a corner between the wall of the tunnel and of one of the thick concrete supports that reinforced the walls and ceilings between sections.

Roy knelt down to check on the injured man. He had a cut across his forehead and was coherent, but complained of feeling woozy, and sick to his stomach.

Johnny pushed his helmet back, and raised his air mask to make it easier to talk, and the other man did the same.

“I’m John Gage, this is Roy DeSoto. What’s your name?”

“Bruce. Bruce Wilkins.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Johnny asked, and got a no. “What happened?”

“We were on our way out, and this guy… he was crazy, you know? Runnin’ through here like he knew exactly where he was going. He took us by surprise. Hell, we weren’t expecting anybody down here. He pushed me out of the way, and grabbed Mel’s flashlight and hit him with it. I dropped the radio and he stomped on it and broke it. Then he just took off again. I didn’t wanna leave Mel here alone in case he came back. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Johnny,” Roy interrupted, “I can’t tell for sure, but I think he’s gonna be okay. We need to get him up top so I can check him out better.”

Roy handed the HT to Johnny to make a report, while he and Bruce helped Mel to his feet.

“Engine 51, this is HT 51.”

Thick concrete walls weren’t conducive to radio transmissions above ground, and Stanley had a hard time understanding the broken, static-filled transmission. He moved closer to the open manhole and crouched down over it, hoping Gage could read him.

At first, the return transmission was fuzzy, but then the Captain’s voice came in more clearly.

“This is Engine 51, go ahead HT 51.”

“Cap, we’ve found the men. One of them is slightly injured. The other one’s okay. Roy’s gonna bring them out. I’ll continue with the search for the other guy. We’re at section… D18 right now and I’ll head for D19. They said he went in that direction.” Johnny waited a second. “Kelly, did you copy that?”

“That’s affirmative, John. We’re at D30, headed your way. Kind of slow goin’ in the dark. We’ll keep our eyes open.”

“Engine 51, did you copy that?”

“Ten-four, HT 51.”

“Cap, Roy should be there in just a few minutes. I’m gonna move on. That guy’s gotta be close to passing out now. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“Gage. Remember what I said. No heroics. You see anything move, you call. That goes for you too, Kelly.”

“Got it, Cap.”

“Ten-four.”

Roy didn’t especially like the idea of Johnny going on alone, but the workers’ air tanks were running low, and he had to get the injured man to the squad, where he could check him out properly.

“Johnny, you....”

“I’ll be careful, Roy. Now, get goin’.”

Johnny watched Roy and the other two men head back toward the manhole they came down, their figures soon swallowed up in the darkness. He noticed his heart was beating just a little faster, and his breathing a little more rapid now that he was alone. He adjusted his air mask, strapped on his helmet, and gripped the flashlight tightly as he started off in the opposite direction.

An overwhelming sense of deja vu gripped him once again.

Apprehension began to build with every step he took.

It was quiet.

And dark as midnight.

Johnny almost jumped out of his skin when the HT squawked.

“Cap, this is Kelly. We’re at section D29. Still no sign of anyone.”

All he heard in return was some static, but Johnny assumed that Stanley acknowledged Kelly’s contact.

His light caught a movement, and he heard a faint rustling sound. He stopped and listened. He could hear the echo of water dripping somewhere in the distance, but otherwise it was dead silent, save for his own rapid breath sounds, and his heart hammering against his chest.

All of sudden something near him moved. He almost dropped the radio when he jumped back and swung his flashlight to his right. His pulse was racing, and he almost stopped breathing.

When he finally saw what it was… nothing more than two overgrown sewer rats, scurrying for the cover of darkness, to hide under a pile of rotting sewage… he sarcastically chastised himself for getting carried away.

Cap and Roy were right. I’ve been watchin’ too many late-night horror flicks with Chet. Next thing I know, I’ll be seein’ giant ants.

When his heart rate had slowed and his breathing was under control again, he keyed the HT and reported that he’d just passed D19 and was headed for D20. Again, the static.

“Kelly, you there?”

“We’re here, Gage. I copied that. Still haven’t spotted anything. Have you?”

The voice contact helped calm his jitters. “Just a couple of rats and piles of garbage. I’m movin’ on now.”

As he got closer to section D20, Johnny could see that it intersected in a ‘T’ with a smaller tunnel. He slowed his pace even more, listening for any sound at all. There was none. He stopped at the intersection and shined the flashlight around the corner.

He sucked in a huge gulp of air, and almost choked.

His blood ran cold.

He knew then.

It was his day to die.

* * * * * * * *

Hank Stanley was getting nervous. Gage hadn’t checked in. Kelly reported that he couldn’t raise him on the HT either. He and Lopez had made it to section D27, and were closing the gap.

The SWAT team was on the way, due to arrive in a few minutes. Turner and his men had been escorted from the scene to give their statements after Roy had released them, with their promise to have Mel checked out at the company clinic. A chorus of rapidly approaching sirens could be heard in the distance; a helicopter circled noisily overhead, its searchlight sweeping across the streets, and into the windows of the now-vacant buildings.

Stanley made his way over to the back of the squad, where Roy was changing out his air pack.

“Roy, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Cap, I gotta get back down there. Johnny could be in trouble.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Roy. At the rate they’re going, Kelly and Lopez should make it to his last reported location in another ten minutes. It’d take you almost that long to get there from here. I don’t even know if I want them down there any more.”

“But…,” Roy’s protest was cut off by the static and a broken transmission from the HT in Stanley’s hand.

“Could you tell who that was?” he asked anxiously, quickly moving back to the manhole.

“No, I couldn’t.” Roy was right behind him.

“HT 51, can you repeat? Kelly, was that you?”

“No, Cap. But I couldn’t make it out either. It must’ve been Johnny.”

They waited, but nothing more came.

“HT 51. John. Can you read me?” A hint of desperation was creeping into Stanley’s voice.

Nothing.

Suddenly, a burst of static. The voice came across more clearly this time.

“Cap, this is John. We have a problem.”

Hank Stanley suddenly knew what Gene Krantz in Houston Mission Control must have felt like when he heard Jim Lovell’s calm voice from aboard Apollo 13. It wasn’t a good feeling.

“What kind of problem, John?”

“Is Roy up there with you?

“Ten-four. He’s ready to come back down. John, I repeat, what’s the problem?”

“Tell Roy to stay where he is.”

Before Stanley could respond, they could hear Gage and Kelly talking over the handi-talkies.

“Chet, you and Marco get outta here. Now.”

“Johnny, tell us what section you’re in. We can’t be far apart. We can be there in no time.”

“Chet. For once in your life, don’t argue with me. Get out. Now.”

“Johnny? Johnny! Cap, what do you want us to do?”

Chet was appealing to a higher authority for instructions. Johnny’s words had left no room for doubt that something was seriously wrong. Chet and Marco were in danger.

He couldn’t risk three lives.

“Kelly, I want you and Lopez out of there.”

“But, Cap, we can....”

“NOW, Kelly,” Stanley ordered. He caught Roy’s arm, and pulled him back. “You’re not going down there until we know what’s going on.”

“But, Cap....”

“No buts, Roy. You stay put.”

Stanley had his hands full without worrying about his crew disobeying orders.

“Kelly, where are you?”

“We’re movin’ as fast we can, Cap. We’ll be up top in about five minutes.”

“John. What’s your situation?”

“I… I didn’t hear what Chet said. Are they out yet?”

“They’re on their way out now. Five minutes.”

“Roy’s still with you?”

“He’s right here. He’s not going anywhere. John… what the HELL is goin’ on?”

“Cap?”

They barely heard his breathless whisper above the static.

“It’s him.”

And then there was silence.

* * * * * * * *

“Welcome to hell, alien.”

Johnny pushed his helmet back, and slowly pulled off his air mask, letting it dangle to the side. He was trying hard not to hyperventilate. He swallowed hard and mentally worked at regulating his breathing, but it was easier said than done.

So. This was what hell looked like.

The devil was there.

The only thing missing were the flames.

“Hey, man, look. See? It’s only an air mask. I’m no alien. Just a firefighter. I’m here to get you out before you pass out. I just… I wanna help.”

“Help?” Gideon laughed. “You’re the one who needs help. You already knew this morning you were going to die. You just didn’t know how. I told you I still had a job to do, and that I’d meet you in the fires of hell before you’d see the full moon in the sky again, didn’t I? Well, here we are. I knew you’d come, if I led the way.”

For all his arguing with Roy earlier, Johnny couldn’t believe this was happening. He also couldn’t believe this guy was still on his feet after all the time he’d been down here. Already beginning to feel lightheaded, Johnny started coughing. The air was full of just about everything except oxygen. He started to put his air mask back to his face, when Gideon raised his hand and said no. When Johnny saw what he had, he obediently let the mask slip from his hand.

“Look. Neither one of us is gonna make it, if we don’t get out of here right away. The air down here is full of toxic gases, and....” Johnny’s plea was cut off by his cough again.

“You don’t seem to understand.” Gideon spoke very calmly for a man contemplating his own suicide. “We’re not going anywhere. Except up in flames when I decide the time is right.”

It was that lack of fear in the man that scared the hell out of him. Johnny desperately looked around to see if there was any chance he could get away, or if there was any chance someone from the SWAT team could approach without being seen. They could pick him off from a distance in the darkness with their infrared scopes, but if Gideon heard so much as a sound, Johnny knew it would be over before he could move an inch. The corner where the concrete support met the wall might offer him some protection, but he was a good ten feet from it.

He’d never make it in time.

“Go ahead and contact your Mother Ship again, and let them know you won’t be joining them for the trip home. Talk all you want. Just don’t move.”

This was worse than the nightmares he’d had the last two nights. The air was getting to him, and he wanted to sit down, but he knew it would be worse near the floor. Moving wasn’t an option anyway.

His only hope was that he could outlast Gideon in the breathing department.

Johnny raised the HT.

At least he could make sure no one else would die.

At least he could say good-bye.

* * * * * * * *

Stanley stood up and looked at Roy. “Him? Who the.... My god, Roy, you don’t think…?”

The captain spun around, and was almost nose-to-nose with Vince. “What the HELL is going on? I thought you guys had him under lock and key!”

Vince instinctively stiffened at the challenge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just started my watch a little while ago. Him, who? Who are you talkin’ about, Hank?”

“That guy.... Gideon. The one who burned down the house this morning because he said he saw aliens. For cryin’ out loud, Vince, the guy’s insane. He threatened Gage this morning, and now he’s down there....” Stanley was beside himself, his anger barely under control, demanding answers from the deputy. “Good lord, how did he get out? I want to know who let him out!”

“All right, all right. Calm down. Let me get on the radio and see what I can find out.” Vince headed for the car as the SWAT team van rolled up. He stopped to brief the young lieutenant on the situation before resuming his task to find out if their suspect was indeed the man Hank Stanley described.

Men in dark clothes with rifles in their hands stood in the street. Other deputies arrived, and quickly set up barricades to keep the curious from getting too close. So many lights were flashing, it was almost dizzying. The surreal scene took on the air of a military operation.

These guys didn’t mess around.

Two officers approached them. One held out his hand. “Captain Stanley, Lieutenant Jacobs, LASD, Special Weapons Team. This is Sergeant Thomas. Deputy Howard said you got the two workers out okay. I understand that one of your men is still down there with a possible arson suspect, and that you’ve had contact with him. Do you know if the suspect has a weapon?”

Roy didn’t give his captain a chance to answer. “We don’t know anything, except that he’s down there with someone who should have been locked away in a padded cell this morning.” Roy’s voice had a shaky edge to it, partly from anger, partly from fear for Johnny’s life.

Jacobs eyed him coolly. “You are?”

“DeSoto. Roy DeSoto. Lieutenant, that’s my partner, John Gage, down there. That man thinks Johnny’s an alien, and that he’s an alien killer. I know that sounds ridiculous, but believe me, this guy’s serious. We’ve gotta get down there and do something.”

Jacobs sternly pointed a finger at Roy’s chest. “You’re not going anywhere, and we’re not going down there blind. It’s not just for our own protection, but for your partner’s as well. I need more information. I need to know if we can negotiate with him. Are you able to reach Gage on your radio?”

As if on cue, Johnny’s voice came over the HT in Stanley’s hand. He and Roy both crouched down beside the manhole.

“Cap?”

“I’m here, John. Are you okay?”

“Been better.”

They could hear him coughing, and Roy and Stanley looked at each other.

“John, you don’t have your air mask on, do you?”

“Uh… no. Cap. He… uh… won’t let me put it back on. Says if I make a move, I’m toast.”

“What do you mean, toast?”

“Cap, he’s got his… his thumb on a… a lighter. Just my luck.... It’s a… a Bic.”

The wry comment didn’t disguise the tension in his voice.

It was Roy’s turn to look and feel like he’d just had the wind knocked out him. He moved closer to the opening, balancing unsteadily on the balls of his feet, his fingertips touching the asphalt as though the contact would somehow connect him with Johnny.

Stanley hesitated only for a second. He had a man in trouble, and this was no time to get sentimental. His years of training to handle almost every imaginable emergency automatically kicked in.

“John. Listen to me. Don’t do… anything. We’ll find a way to get you out.”

“I… I know. Chet 'n Marco…?”

“They’re comin’ down the street right now.”

Lieutenant Jacobs tapped Stanley on the shoulder. “Ask him if the guy’s got any weapons.”

Stanley stood up and gave him a dire look. “The man’s got a thirty-nine cent cigarette lighter in his hand. Guaranteed to light the first time he flicks it. He doesn’t need any other weapon, Lieutenant. That tunnel’s probably got enough hydrogen sulfide and methane gas to cause a minor earthquake if it blows. His thumb on that lighter is just as deadly as if his finger was ready to pull the pin of a hand grenade.”

The officers had no problem understanding the analogy. Vince Howard motioned to them, and they conferred for a minute away from the group of firefighters. Sergeant Thomas left to issue instructions to their men, and Jacobs returned to talk to Stanley, who was focused solely on what was happening below the surface.

“Cap?”

“We’re here, John.”

“I’m not… not feelin’… too good. Diz…dizzy… hard… hard to breathe. I don’t think he’s gonna… last either. He’s… he’s already startin’ to… to....”

“John, keep talkin’. You need to stay awake. Tell me.... If he starts to pass out, are you close enough to get that lighter away from him?”

“I… uh… I don’t… don’t know. He’s still… got his thumb on....”

“John, stay with me, pal.”

“Cap? Is… is Roy there? Need to… to tell ‘im somethin’.”

Roy practically yanked the other HT from Chet’s grasp, as he and Marco hustled up behind them.

“Johnny? Johnny, it’s Roy. Listen, you gotta stay awake. Talk to me.”

It was an agonizingly long thirty seconds before they heard him again. His breathing sounded labored, and his words were slow to come out.

“I… … he’s.... he’s down. He dropp… dropped the lighter.”

Four of the SWAT team members had their BA’s on, two already up the street to the cover the other manhole, two ready to go down at this one. The remaining two members of the eight-man team were positioned on the rooftops of nearby buildings with their long-range rifles, covering potential escape routes in the event the situation changed.

“Johnny, be careful. Are you sure he’s out? The SWAT team is here, ready to go, and we’ll be right behind them as soon as you give the word.”

“Yeah. Uh.... I’m gonna get… lighter…. a… a minute to… my mask on.”

The men stood back to make way for the SWAT team members to go down first. Tension still ran high. None of them were going to relax until Gage was safely out.

“Cap, I’m gonna go down with them.” Roy handed the HT to Stoker, and turned toward the squad to get the drug box, overlooking the fact that Lt. Jacobs was the man in charge. “Chet, Marco.... Can one of you help…? I’m gonna need the oxygen off the squad.”

They were just a half-step behind him, as anxious to get to Johnny as Roy was.

Stanley nodded, and turned his back on the manhole, and started to say something to Stoker.

The next thing he knew he was kissing the asphalt.

The sudden explosion rocked the entire block, and rattled the windows of the buildings around them. The heard the growing roar of the fire as it raced at lightning speed through the tunnel, devouring what little oxygen it could find. Seconds later, flames flashed skyward through the manhole, then were gone as quickly as they came.

Mike helped Stanley to his feet, and they all turned and stood still, momentarily stunned, looking into the hole like they were looking into a grave.

In that moment of silence, Roy could be heard to whisper just one word.

“Johnny.”

* * * * * * * *

Negotiation was now out of the question.

In a matter of seconds, the lieutenant was barking orders to his men, and they swung into action.

The only men who were moving faster were the five firefighters. Stoker automatically headed for the engine to call for another squad and an ambulance, Stanley tried to raise Johnny on the HT again, and the other three were putting on their air masks and grabbing for their gloves, with every intention of following the SWAT team down the manhole.

“Hold it!” shouted Jacobs. “You men aren’t going anywhere. My men are the ONLY ones going down there… no one else, until they give the all clear. Is that understood?”

They acted like they didn’t even hear him.

“Stanley! You get your men back from there, now. No one -- I repeat, no one -- goes down there until I say so.”

Johnny hadn’t responded to attempts to raise him on the HT, and Stanley was seething. “Jacobs, that’s one of my men down there. We don’t know what’s happened. He could be… he could be hurt, and every second he’s not getting help is another second off his life. Even if he’s not hurt, we have no idea if he managed to get his air mask back on, or how much air he has left. He could suffocate to death while we’re standing here arguing.”

“You’re right.” Jacobs fired back. “We don’t know what’s happened. But we’re gonna find out without any firemen going off halfcocked down there. We’re through wasting time discussing it. You keep your men here. That’s an order.” He turned to Vince Howard. “You see to it these men don’t move a muscle, is that understood?”

The deputy nodded, and Jacobs turned to finalize his instructions to his team.

Stanley had a decision to make, and he knew it wasn’t going to be popular with his men. “DeSoto, Kelly, Lopez. Stay where you are.”

A chorus of protests started to erupt, but a no-nonsense look stopped them before they went any further. They had too much respect for Stanley to defy his orders, but it was tearing them apart to be told they’d have to wait and do nothing.

Stanley turned to Vince, wondering what the deputy would have done to stop them if he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “What’d you find out, Vince? It’s him, isn’t it?”

Howard relaxed slightly when he saw they weren’t going to challenge the Lieutenant’s orders. “From my description of the man I saw, we have every reason to believe it is. I’m sorry, Hank. This should never have happened.”

“You’re damned right it shouldn’t have happened. Why did it?”

Vince was as concerned about Gage as the rest of them. He knew that no one in either of their professions ever gave up until… until they saw the corpse with their own eyes. Looking at these men he knew so well, he wondered if they really thought anyone could have survived the explosion and the flash fire that resulted.

“They’re still looking into it. Right now, it looks like it was just a paperwork mix-up.”

“JUST a paperwork mix-up?” Chet couldn’t believe what he heard. He was furious.

Roy said nothing, but looked like he was ready to hit someone.

Stanley knew he had to keep them under control. There would be hell to pay for this as far as he was concerned. Later, though. Right now, all that mattered was making sure Gage was alive.

“Go get the equipment off the squad,” he said evenly. “Be ready to go the second they give the all-clear.” He knew that would only keep them busy for two minutes, but it was two minutes they needed to cool down and get back into their professional mode. They had a job to do, and they’d do it.

Sergeant Thomas approached him as the three men walked away. “Captain Stanley. It’s for the best. If the tables were turned, and it was one of our men down there, believe me, Lt. Jacobs would be fighting as hard as you and your men are to get to him. But, you let us do the job we’re trained to do, and then we’ll let you do yours. Trust me, your man’s well-being is as important to us as it is to you, but we can’t risk other lives. It may not seem like it, but we don’t like to lose anyone, either.”

Hank Stanley drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I know, Sergeant, I know. Any of my men would lay down his life for the other, they’re that close. But, you’d have to know John Gage to understand what he means to us. I think we all know that if it was any one of us in that tunnel, you wouldn’t have been able to keep him out of there.”

“I understand. As soon as we hear anything....”

“We’ll be ready.”

Kelly and Lopez went to the engine to get new air tanks. Chet was still muttering furiously under his breath. He mentally kicked himself as hard as he kicked the empty soda can in the street that got in his way.

“We should have kept going, Marco. We shouldn’t have left him down there with that maniac.”

“Chet, we didn’t have a choice. We had to do what Cap said.”

“We had a choice, Marco. We could have pretended not to hear. No one would have known. If we had just kept going, maybe Johnny....”

Standing by the side of the squad, Roy listened as Chet’s voice faded away. He started to reach for the compartment door handle, then dropped his hand to his side.

He was hearing Johnny’s last words… hearing Johnny ask for him.... I need to tell him something. Johnny had known all day this was going to happen. When he’d tried to tell him that earlier, Roy hadn't believed him. He wondered if Johnny had simply wanted to say “I told you so.”

Still unwilling to think the worst, Roy imagined Johnny laying there, hurt and alone, and here he was, being told he had to wait until it was safe, being told he couldn’t do his job, being told he couldn’t do… anything. He’d never felt so angry, never felt so scared, never felt so utterly helpless in his life.

Just as hard as Kelly had kicked that soda can, Roy’s fist slammed into the compartment door. From behind, someone laid a hand on his shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes closed and pulled himself together again.

“We’ll think of something to tell Charlie later,” Mike said quietly about the sizable dent in the door. “What do you need out of here?”

Roy turned to see Chet and Marco standing there with the stokes, mouths hanging slightly open, surprise in their eyes. It was the first time they’d seen the ever-in-control Roy DeSoto let his emotions get the better of him in front of them. Even in the toughest of situations, even where Gage was concerned, he had always managed to maintain that visage of professionalism.

It brought home just how scared they all were of what they were going to find when they were allowed down in that tunnel.

Roy looked at the stokes, then back at the two men. “You’ll need to get the stretcher, too. Remember, there are two people down there.” He looked at Mike. “Can you check on the status of the other squad, and get the other O2 off the engine?”

With further thoughts unspoken, the four of them packed everything they could possibly need in the stokes, and then did the only thing left to do.

Wait.

* * * * * * * *

“Team leader, this is Team One.”

Everyone tensed, ready to go, wanting to hear, not wanting to hear.

“Go ahead, Team One,” Jacobs responded.

“Lieutenant, we confirm one dead.”

“Can you ID the body?”

“That’s negative, sir.”

Not a single man flinched.

Jacobs glanced around at the faces of the firefighters. They remained intense, but gave nothing away. He knew that they were dying just a little bit on the inside with every second that passed.

“We copy that, Team One. What about....?”

“We’ve spotted another.... Stand by.”

Time stood still in the way only it can.

“Lieutenant, we have a second victim. It would appear to be Gage.”

They weren’t confirming a second one dead. A victim, not a body.

“We have some anxious men up here. What’s his condition?”

“He appears to be semiconscious and in considerable pain. We’re unable to make any assessments of his injuries. He… uh… became extremely agitated when we approached him. Can you ask his partner what we should do until he gets here?”

Kelly and Lopez donned their air masks and prepared to go down the ladder. Jacobs held his hand up for them to wait.

“Team One, is that an all-clear?”

“That’s affirmative.”

With a nod of the head, Jacobs let them go. Stanley and Stoker picked up the stokes to lower it down once they were ready. Jacobs handed the HT to Roy, whose hands and voice were both shaking ever so slightly.

“This is DeSoto. Does Gage appear to be having any trouble breathing?”

“That’s negative as near as we can tell. He’s got his BA on”

“Then just keep your distance until we get there. If he starts to have difficulty, do what you have to do to keep him breathing. We’ll be there in about… five minutes.”

He waited until the stokes was down, then took one of the HTs from Stoker. “Cap, we left the biophone in the squad. Can you open a line to Rampart? We’ll relay information as soon as we know something”

“Consider it done. Get goin’. And, Roy....?”

“Yeah. I know, Cap.”

* * * * * * * *

The warning signal from Johnny’s breathing apparatus began bouncing off the walls, and they picked up their already hurried pace. One of the SWAT members guided their way past the charred remains of something barely recognizable as a human being. The other one was squatting beside him, ready to share his air, if necessary. Johnny was slumped in the corner between the concrete support and the wall of the tunnel, his head hanging limply to his shoulder. His warning signal grew louder as they approached.

“He was groaning and kind of thrashing around for a while, but he’s been real still and quiet for about the last two minutes.”

Roy pulled off his gloves and quickly checked his pulse and respirations, and did a quick head-to-toe assessment for broken bones.

“How is he, Roy?” Chet asked.

“I can’t tell just yet. Marco, get the O2 ready -- 15 liters. Chet, help me get his air tank off. I’ll get behind him, if you can grab his legs, and we’ll just slide him over a little.

“Uh, Roy. I think you’d better take a look again before we try to move him.”

Chet shined the flashlight on Johnny’s legs. His lower pant legs were blackened and partially burned away in the back.

“Are they bad, Roy?”

“It’s hard to tell in this light. Could be second-degree. Let’s not move him just yet. We’ve still got to get his tank off and get him on O2.”

While Chet unbuckled the straps, Roy removed Johnny’s helmet, and held the air mask in place, then leaned him slightly forward while Chet stood up to pull the tank away.

“Ready with the O2, Marco?”

“Got it right here, Roy.”

Roy took the air mask away from his face. Johnny came around just then and started to fight them, batting the oxygen mask from Marco’s hands, struggling to get away.

“Johnny! Stop. It’s Roy.” There was no comprehension in Johnny’s eyes. They were unfocused, filled with confusion and pain. “Johnny, it’s me. Look at me.”

He still wouldn’t calm down, and Roy signaled to Chet and Marco, and they all backed away.

“What’s the matter with him?” Marco asked.

“I don’t think he can hear me. The blast might have injured his eardrums. I’m sure he’s got a concussion from it, too. He’s really disoriented. We need to get that oxygen on him.”

Roy took off his own air mask, and with one hand pressed on Johnny’s chest, put his face close, trying to get Johnny to focus on him. He used the two-fingered hand signal that meant “look at me” while still talking to Johnny, even if he couldn’t hear him. Slowly giving up the struggle, Johnny blinked his eyes and stared hard at Roy. A small light of recognition finally flickered before he passed out.

Marco quickly affixed the oxygen mask and adjusted the air flow.

Roy keyed the HT. “Engine 51, this is HT 51.”

“Go ahead, Roy.”

“Cap, I need you to contact Rampart. Tell them to stand by for vitals as soon as we bring him up. We have a probable concussion with loss of hearing, uh… possible second-degree burns on the lower legs. Tell them Johnny was combative and extremely disoriented, but is… uh… unconscious now. I… I can’t make any other assessments down here.”

“Ten-four. We’ll relay the information and have them standing by. Roy?”

“I don’t know how bad yet, Cap.”

“Ten-four.”

Roy applied a cervical collar, and being careful with his legs, they loaded Johnny into the stokes and covered him with a blanket and strapped him in. Roy checked his pulse and respirations one more time, and made sure the oxygen was flowing. With the help of the SWAT team, the five of them hurried back through the tunnel.

Johnny was restless and moaning, and by the time they got him out and started working on him, he was awake again, but still confused and struggling. They took him out of the stokes and laid him on the blanket next to the squad.

Stoker held the oxygen mask in place to keep Johnny from taking it off. Chet and Marco helped Roy get his turnout coat off, then went to work on his legs. They slit his pant legs and pulled the material away, applying sterile sheets and saline, while Roy took vitals, and Stanley relayed them to Dr. Brackett at the base station.

“Rampart, BP is 90 over 60, pulse is rapid, respirations shallow and labored. Pupils are equal but sluggish. Patient is conscious, but disoriented and slightly combative still. We have him on 15 liters of O2 and have applied sterile sheets and saline to the burns on his lower legs.”

“Ten-four, Squad 51. Start an IV saline solution-TKO, maintain oxygen and continue to monitor vitals. Transport immediately."

“IV, saline solution-TKO. Rampart, ambulance has arrived. ETA about ten minutes.”

Johnny wasn’t fighting hard, but Stanley had to help hold his arm still while Roy started the IV. The second squad pulled up, but they were ready to transport by that time. Roy rode in the ambulance with Johnny, and the squad from 45s followed them in.

Hank Stanley walked over to the engine, and climbed up in his seat. The scene had calmed down a little. The coroner’s wagon pulled up, and right behind it, the Battalion Chief’s car. He knew he would have to join them in a minute, but for now he sat, quiet and alone with his thoughts.

If only he had sent Gage home, none of this would have happened. If only he and Roy had listened a little harder, they would have known Johnny shouldn’t have stayed on duty. Johnny hadn't listened to his “something,” and they hadn't listened to him.

There had been a terrible price paid.

They would have to live with that.

But, true to his word, someone else was going to pay the price for having let a madman loose on the streets. Pity the person who encountered the wrath of Hank Stanley for the needless near-loss of one of his men.

* * * * * * * *

“Roy?” Dixie had come up quietly. “You’ve been gone a long time. We were getting worried.”

“Sorry. I took a walk. I had to… to get some air. To kinda clear my head. You know Dix, I thought… I really thought we’d lost him tonight.”

Dixie fingered the cigarette and the lighter she had tucked in her sweater pocket, and decided it wouldn’t be the thing to do right now. She left them where they were.

They stood side-by-side without talking, leaning against the cool concrete wall outside the emergency entrance. It was dark and there were stars in the sky that you could actually see for a change. But it wasn’t stars they were looking at.

The moon was one of those huge, hazy yellow-orange balls that hung so low on the horizon, you could almost swear it was touching the earth.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a full moon quite the same way again.” Roy said softly.

“No, I don’t suppose any of us will.” Dixie looked at him, and thought he’d aged some today. “Roy, you’re not… blaming yourself, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a little. I talked to Captain Stanley a little while ago. He’s takin’ it real hard. He thinks if he had sent Johnny home this afternoon, none of this would have happened. Maybe I should have suggested it too, instead of arguing with him and trying to tell him it was all his imagination.” Roy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I should never have left him alone down in that tunnel.”

“You did what you had to do.” Dixie knew that didn’t mean a thing at a time like this. “So, did anyone ever find out how that guy managed to get back on the street again?”

“Sort of. Vince said that it was a paperwork mix-up. He managed to just walk right out of there. Can you believe that? Something that stupid, that simple…, and....” Roy’s anger was building again. His was second only to Hank Stanley’s. He had never heard their generally easygoing captain so furious.

“Now, Roy. I’m sure they’ll look into it. Why, things happen around here that should never happen. I’m not saying it’s right, but there’s just so much that goes on, that sometimes things… fall through the cracks.”

“Mighty big crack to let someone like that go loose.”

Dixie tried to find a way to soothe his resentment. “You gotta wonder sometimes how people get that far gone in their minds. It’s scary. At least… at least he’s not around anymore to hurt anyone else.”

It had been a rather gruesome sight. One Roy would remember for a long time. He would also remember that he hadn’t felt a single emotion when he saw it. For the first time in his life, the death of another human being hadn’t fazed him. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“I’ll tell you what’s scary, Dix. It’s to think there are others like him out there. Waitin’ for another full moon.”

She didn’t have an answer for that one. “Speaking of full moons, I need to get back to work and get ready for what’s coming next. Are you heading back to the station?”

“No, I wasn’t plannin’ to. Cap said since the squad was out of service, I could stick around here and help if you needed me. Nothin’ I can do at the station this late.”

Dixie pulled her sweater tight, and gave the moon another look. It was a bit higher in the night sky now, changing from yellow to white, shining a little brighter in the star-studded skies overhead.

It looked harmless enough.

Kind of pretty, even.

One had to wonder.

“We won’t turn down an extra pair of hands on a night like this. We got the word just before I came looking for you that the police were responding to a gang fight in a park. It won’t be long before we’re swamped.” Dixie kind of wished she could have had that cigarette before going back in. It might be a long while before she got another break in her double-shift.

“All right, then. I’ll be ready.... But, first I want to… to check on Johnny one more time. See if he’s awake.”

“He’s gonna be all right, Roy. Considering how close he was to the point of the blast, he could have sustained a far worse concussion than he did. Dr. Early is sure that his hearing loss will only be temporary, and the burns on his legs should heal up nicely. He’s more concerned about Johnny’s lungs right now, but they’ll get him started on respiratory therapy right away.”

“I know. It’s just… He shouldn’t… shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up again. I know he didn’t seem to remember much of anything earlier, but still....”

“Sometimes, when something this traumatic happens, people block it out. Maybe Johnny won’t ever remember.”

“Maybe, but I don't think so, Dix. Johnny meets things head-on. I kinda wish he didn’t have to, but I… I think he’ll remember, and come to terms with it.” Roy wished he could forget, but he never would. He'd just do his best to bury it somewhere deep in his memory, and try not to think about it.

As they walked down the hall, Dr. Brackett signaled Dixie to join him at the base station. The first calls from the park were coming in.

“I’Il be back in a few minutes,” Roy told her, as he headed for the overnight observation room. “I just wanna make sure he’s all right.”

That Johnny had survived still seemed almost impossible. After the initial explosion, the flash fire had traveled in a straight line down the tunnel, consuming what little oxygen there was, then extinguished itself when there was nothing else to feed on. Johnny had fortunately been able to get his air mask back on, or he would have suffocated before they found him.

The only thing they could figure was that at the last moment, he changed his mind, and instead of trying to retrieve the lighter, he’d headed for the shelter of the corner of the concrete support. Maybe Johnny had finally listened -- to those warning bells, to the feeling that something was going to happen, to the voice that whispered in his ear.

Roy almost bumped into the respiratory therapist coming out of the room. He wondered if being grouchy was part of the job requirement, or if the job just made them that way. He didn’t suppose being called the Respiratory Gestapo behind their backs made them any happier.

Johnny was awake, and the picture of misery. Added to the bandage on his forehead and the one on his hand from his earlier mishap, were dressings around his lower legs. They had been the only unprotected part of his body, but the burns were mostly first-degree, caused by the intense heat more than the flames, and while painful, wouldn’t cause any permanent scarring. The head of the bed was raised, and he had an oxygen mask on to help ease his breathing. An IV with antibiotics flowed into his veins.

“Hey, Johnny. Good to see you awake.” Roy remembered that he couldn’t hear him, and was surprised when he got a raw-voiced ‘Hey, Roy’ in return. “You can hear me?”

“Yeah. A little. You sound real far away. Like you’re in a tunnel. I sound like that to myself, too. Mostly all I can hear is… ringing in my ears. It’s drivin’ me crazy.”

“I’d guess that’s a good sign. Dr. Early said it should only be temporary. You had me worried for a while when I thought you didn’t recognize my voice.”

“Nothin’ new, Roy. You worry all the time.” Johnny coughed hard, and when he stopped, raised his hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut until the pain subsided. He was breathing heavily, struggling to keep the nausea down.

Roy felt helpless. “Guess they can’t give you anything for the headache yet, huh?”

“Just some Tylenol. Doesn’t help at all,” Johnny whispered hoarsely. “I’d… sure like to… to have a word with the guy who planted that ax in my skull when I get outta here.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s very likely.”

Johnny opened his eyes and studied Roy’s somber face.

“Somethin’ tells me… I… I don’t want to know.”

Roy almost smiled at that. “You know, Johnny. I’m startin’ to think that whoever that 'something' is that talks to you is pretty smart. Maybe you should start listening more often.”

That elicited a small frown. Johnny wasn’t sure what Roy was talking about.

“Look, I’m… uh… I’m gonna go so you can get some rest. Cap’s letting me stay here for a while, and I promised Dixie I’d give them a hand in the ER. Guess they’ve got quite a few victims of a gang fight comin’ in soon.” Roy turned to go. “I’ll check in on you later when I get a chance. Take it easy, huh?”

“Thanks. Uh…, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“At night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I… I made it, huh?”

Roy looked at Johnny, wondering if he already remembered more than he was letting on. Roy recalled what Johnny had told them earlier when they were in Stanley’s office, about not living to see another full moon in the sky. He walked over to the window, and pulled the drapes apart with his fingers and looked out. He glanced back at Johnny, and pulled the drapes open wide.

There it was, in all its glory.

The full moon for Johnny to see.

That familiar half-grin was there for a second, then slowly faded as his eyes closed in sleep.

Roy closed the drapes again, and quietly left the room.

Neither one saw the clouds that drifted across the face of the moon, or the patterns they cast in moving shadows on the earth below.

* * * * * * * *

The nightmare was over, but the dream returned.

He was in a tunnel. Trapped. No way out.

He couldn't breathe.Time was short. His time.

His hand, reaching, inches from the object.

Eyes appeared. Eyes without a face. Accusing, mocking, taunting.

The object. So close. Other fingers wrapped around it first.

Their eyes met again. He saw eyes of a tortured life. Filled with pain. Filled with sorrow. Filled with relief. It was over, finally....

A voice whispered, "run."

This time, he listened.

* * * * * * * *

Every eye sees its own special vision;
every ear hears a most different song.
In each man's troubled heart, an incision
would reveal a unique, shameful wrong.

Stranger fiends hide here in human guise
than reside in the valleys of Hell.
But goodness, kindness and love arise
in the heart of the poor beast, as well
~
Dean Koontz, Book of Counted Sorrows

***************

Writer's Notes:
A special thanks to Becca for sharing some of her stories, and allowing us to use one, and for her insider views on how EMS personnel feel about full moons....

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