BY NanM
“Dr. Brackett, are you telling me that… that Johnny’s days as a firefighter are over?”
It was hard to look Roy directly in the eyes.
Kelly Brackett and Joe Early both peered into the half-filled mugs on the table in front of them, as though an answer to Roy’s question might magically appear -- like fortune tellers trying to read scattered bits of leaves in emptied cups of tea.
Neither one found anything there, except hours old coffee with a little sludge at the bottom.
Brackett leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, raising his eyes to Roy's worried face. “That’s… not exactly what I said. I just meant that Johnny has already been putting himself at risk with his job, and this is only going to increase that risk. So far, he’s been willing to gamble with his health, but the stakes have been raised now. I don’t know if he can afford to do it any more.”
“Does he know?”
“About the long-term consequences?” Brackett leaned back in his chair again, trying to appear relaxed for DeSoto’s benefit. “No. At least, we haven’t discussed it with him, and, at this stage, I doubt he’s thinking that far ahead. Bringing it up now wouldn’t serve any purpose except to upset him. Johnny’s got enough to deal with at the moment. We need to wait until he’s had a chance to recuperate for a while, then run some more tests, before coming to any conclusions.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Roy said quietly. “But, if I know Johnny, he’ll still feel the same way. He loves his job, and I don’t think there’s anything else he could imagine himself doing.”
Silent until now, Joe Early hated to be the one to say this. “Roy, it may not be all John’s decision whether he goes back to work or not this time, even if he recovers fully.”
Roy’s expression filled with renewed concern. “What do you mean, Dr. Early?” The word “if” hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Who else decides, besides you and Johnny?”
Early explained carefully, taking great pains to remain objective. “You see, Roy, there are new guidelines being established all the time. It’s not like the old days. We have a long medical checklist to follow. It’s our job to make sure he can continue to do his job without further risk to himself… or to others, before recommending a return to duty. The truth is, while our recommendation carries a lot of weight, we don’t always have the final say. Every case is subject to review by the Department. John’s condition almost guarantees there will be some questions raised.”
“I don’t understand. Even though he’s been sick a few times since the accident, Johnny’s in great shape physically. As for others, I don’t know a man out there who would think it’s a risk to work with him. Why, he-”
“That’s not it,” Brackett cut him off before Roy could finish his sentence. “No one is saying that Johnny has ever posed a danger to anyone in the past, or ever would intentionally. It’s just that we can’t afford to take what happened yesterday lightly. What if someone had needed his help then? More to the point, what about Johnny himself? He’s lucky Marco was right there to pull him out, and lucky you were there to work on him. He might not be as fortunate if it happens again.
Slumping back in his chair, Roy’s shoulders sagged as it all began to sink in. “You think it could? Happen again, I mean.”
Brackett paused, trying to soften the impact. “I… I think you know the answer to that one, Roy. Recurrence isn’t unusual. There simply aren’t any guarantees.”
Roy pushed his untouched coffee cup away, unable to conceal the frustration in his eyes, or to keep the anger from shaking his voice.
“It’s not… it’s not right. A stupid hit-and-run driver gets off with hardly more than a… a slap on the wrist, while Johnny pays for the man’s recklessness for the rest of his life. I don’t see the justice in that.”
“It’s not fair,” Early agreed, “and justice wasn’t served, but, it’s too soon to know anything for sure. John’s proven to be pretty resilient in the past. Let’s not count him out just yet.”
There were so many “ifs.” The hard reality of the situation, and the specter of the uphill battle sure to come, brought a despondent silence to the room.
“What are the odds, huh?” Roy finally asked, not really wanting an answer. “It could only happen to Johnny, you know?”
This time it was Dr. Early’s turn to ask the question. “What do you mean, Roy?”
“He… he said it was nothing to worry about.... It was… just a cough.
With wintertime’s darkness still lingering outside the windows, the morning wake-up tones served their purpose. Six men stirred in their bunks. Hank Stanley was the only one who got up, though not without every muscle in his body reminding him he wasn’t getting any younger. Amidst the groans protesting the lights that flooded the room in the early hour, he acknowledged dispatch, then sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Rubbing his face with his hands, he tried to clear the tangle of cobwebs from his sleep-interrupted mind. A long, exhausting day that had ended with a major structure fire, had been followed by an equally long, restless night in the station’s dorm.
A grouchy Chet raised himself up on his elbows and looked across the aisle. Roy had the covers pulled over his head. Johnny had his arm thrown over his eyes.
“Gage, don’t tell me you’re sick again?”
“All right, I won’t, ‘cause I’m not.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Chet complained. “You kept me awake half the night with your coughing.”
“You kept me awake the other half with your snoring, Chet.” Roy threw his covers back, wearily putting in his two-cents worth. “If anyone has a right to complain, it’s me.”
“And me,” echoed Marco.
“Roy, I keep tellin’ you… you should let me put that clothespin on his nose,” Johnny muttered, loud enough for Chet to hear.
“Yeah, well, how’d you like me to stuff a sock....”
“Men…? It’s a little early in the morning for this, isn’t it?” Stanley stood up again, trying to stretch the kinks out of his back, and put his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. “Could it at least wait until I’ve had some coffee?”
“Sure, Cap.”
“Sorry, Cap.”
“It’s all right. John, it’s your turn to start the coffee, isn’t it?”
“No way,” Chet protested, “I’ll do it. I don’t want him coughing his germs all over the place. We’ve got four days off, and I don’t intend to spend them with a cold.”
“It’s about the only thing that would spend time with you.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, Gage. When’s the last time....”
“Gentlemen, please. Not before the coffee, remember?”
Stoker rolled out of his bunk. “I’ll make the coffee,” he grumbled. “At least it’s quiet in the kitchen.”
One-by-one, they got up and left the dorm, until only Johnny remained. Roy came back into the room, sat down on his bunk again, and waited for Johnny to say something. After all this time, he didn’t need to ask the question out loud.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Roy. It’s just a cough. Probably just a leftover from that cold I had a few weeks ago.” Johnny wrestled his legs free from the tangled bedding, then sat up slowly. “It only seems to bother me during the night. All I need is… is some sleep, and I’ll be fine.”
“I know. It’s just since you’ve been back to work, you’ve had more than your share of colds. You've had bronchitis twice now.”
“Well, Dr. Early said that kind of thing could happen. My immune system will never be the same, but there’s not a lot I can do about it.” Johnny gave Roy a little shrug of the shoulder and a short-lived smile. “I’m in the wrong line of work if I can’t handle being around other people’s germs. Like I said, it… it’s just a cough. I think it could have been the fumes at that factory fire yesterday that made it worse.”
“I suppose so.” Roy stood up, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders. “What do you say we get some coffee, and hope we get out of here before we get a run.”
“You go ahead. I’ll… uh, be there in a minute. Make sure Chet doesn’t drink it all before I get there, though, okay?”
Waiting until Roy left the room, Johnny put his hand to his chest, and tried to take a deep breath.
It still hurt.
* * * * * * * *
Roy checked his watch, then looked at the door. It was almost seven-thirty. Generally Johnny was one of the first to get to the station, but he hadn’t shown up yet. Roy had meant to call him at least once during the last four days, but things around the house had gotten hectic, and he’d never picked up the phone. Reminding himself he wasn’t Johnny’s keeper, he nonetheless couldn’t help worrying a little about that cough.
“Mornin’.”
Johnny had quietly come into the locker room through the dorm. Surprised, Roy looked up from tying his shoelace. The greeting had been unusually subdued, and Johnny’s eyes held none of their usual spark.
“Mornin’. I was wondering where you were. How were your days off?”
“Fine.”
Roy waited for more, but the wait was in vain.
“You do anything special?”
“No,” Johnny answered glumly. "I… I wouldn’t call it special. The… uh… the DA’s office called the other day. They wanted to talk to me before they… before they closed the case again.”
“What do you mean, again?”
“You know, Roy, it’s hard to believe hit-and-run is only considered a misdemeanor. I guess someone actually has to die for it to be a felony, and even then, I’m not so sure.” With a discouraged sigh, Johnny sat down on the bench. “Man, I don’t get it. One judge suspended the guy’s license, fined him five hundred dollars, and sentenced him to eighteen months in County jail. Now, another one turns around and… and reduces the sentence to time served, and assigns community service to pay off the fine. The only thing the judge didn’t give back was his license. Yet.”
Roy was stunned. “I can’t believe it. Johnny, you could have been killed. When I think about it....” He swallowed uneasily, recalling that night. It had all happened so fast. They were talking one second, and Johnny was laying in the street the next. More than the sight, it was the sickening sound of the impact when the car hit Johnny, that had stayed with Roy all this time. Even now, his stomach twisted into a small knot. “It… it hasn’t even been six months.”
“Yeah. The DA said he wasn’t surprised, though. The attorney filed an appeal, and I guess the… the judge that handled it is known for his leniency. It was the guy’s first offense, and he said he panicked when he saw Vince’s squad car there that night. The man’s got a wife and a kid on the way, and they took that, and the fact he plead guilty, into account. I don’t know. I mean, I… I don’t want his family to suffer, but.... “
“Johnny, you’ve got every right to be upset.”
“The DA said there’s nothin’ they can do. I suppose I’m kinda glad it’s over. I’d just as soon put it all behind me anyway.”
Roy watched his partner get up to change into his uniform to get ready for the start of the shift, hoping he would be able to do that. All the pain and trauma, a two-week stay in the hospital following emergency surgery, eight weeks off work, and frequent illnesses since then, made it a pretty tough thing to forget.
Wondering if Johnny’s mood was solely responsible for his rather lethargic demeanor this morning, Roy decided a change of subject was in order.
“How’s the cough?”
“Huh?”
“The cough? Is it any better?”
“Oh. That.” Johnny knew Roy wouldn’t be easily brushed off. “It’s not … not as bad as it was a few days ago. I called Rampart and talked to Dr. Early yesterday. He kind of chewed me out for not calling right away.”
“Sometimes a good chewing-out is a good thing.”
“Better coming from him than Brackett. Dr. Early wants to see me tomorrow after we get off duty. Just to… to make sure everything’s okay.”
Roy pondered if maybe Johnny didn’t need a keeper sometimes. “I think we can see to it that we go there sometime today.”
“Yeah,” Johnny mumbled. “I… kinda figured you’d say that.”
“That’s what partners are for… partner,” Roy joked, as he got up to head for the kitchen, glad to see a slowly forming grin in return.
“Remind me to repay the favor some day.”
Halfway across the apparatus bay, Roy could hear the cough.
They’d definitely be taking that trip to Rampart.
One way or another.
* * * * * * * *
“John! You need a hand down there?”
“No, Cap. I’m… I’m all right. Just… uh… give me a… a minute.”
Stanley looked at Roy. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know, Cap. Johnny’s been a little off all morning. At first I thought he was just down about the news from the DA’s office, but I think it’s more than that.”
“Hold on a second, Roy. Kelly! Lopez! Why don’t you see if Gage needs some help.” Stanley waved them down the hill, then turned back to Roy. “I thought he was going to fall asleep at the table during lunch. He didn’t look too good.”
Roy picked the drug box up off the ground, and slid it back in the compartment. “He does seem pretty tired, but he says he’s not running a fever like he usually does with bronchitis, and the cough is different. Johnny told me it’s been keeping him awake at night, and the only way he can get some rest is to try to sleep sitting up. I thought maybe after we’re done here, we’d go over to Rampart to pick up some supplies, and see if Dr. Early’s available.”
“I don’t see why not. Just stay available.” Stanley looked back down the hill. The three men were on their way back up, with the accident victim’s briefcase safely in Chet’s possession. “Boy, that guy was lucky not to be seriously injured. Looks like his car must have rolled a couple of times. Hard to believe he walked away with just a few cuts and bruises, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, he was lucky. They’ll check him out again at Rampart just to be sure. He’ll be relieved to find out Johnny got his briefcase. I think he was more worried about that, than he was about himself. We’ll see that he gets it when we get there.”
Kelly came over and handed the briefcase to Roy. “It’s a little smashed, but it doesn’t look like anything fell out.” Chet paused, then asked, “Roy… is… Johnny okay?”
“He’s a little tired, but other than that, I don’t know. Why?”
“He sure seemed to be having a hard time down there. He got real winded just trying to pry the briefcase free. And, when’s the last time I ever beat Gage coming up a hill? It’s not even that steep.”
They all looked over to where Johnny was standing, bent at the waist, with his hands on his knees, in some distress, trying to catch his breath.
“I think maybe a supply run is a good idea, don’t you, Roy?” The captain put his hand on Chet’s shoulder. “Lets go, pal. It looks like we’re done here.”
Johnny had straightened up, and was taking off his helmet, when Stanley walked past him on the way to the engine. “You okay there, John?”
“Yeah, Cap. I just… uh. Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Uh-huh.”
Johnny brushed at some dirt on his pant legs, then glanced up to see Captain Stanley still watching him. He wondered if he looked as bad as he felt. There was a tightness in his chest that made it hurt to take a deep breath. It hurt just to take a plain breath.
“To tell you the truth, Cap, I… I’m not feelin’ too good,” he admitted. “Can’t seem to shake this dumb cough. Maybe Roy and I should stop by Rampart and see what they think, huh?”
“That’s a great idea, John,” Stanley agreed. “Glad you thought of it.”
Johnny shook his head, and helmet in hand, walked slowly to the squad.
He knew when he was outnumbered.
* * * * * * * *
“What’s wrong with him, Doc?”
Mike Morton stood back from the exam table, folded his arms, started to say something, then hesitated. He raised a hand, bringing his fingers to rest under his chin, while his forehead furrowed in a frown. His silent, lengthy rumination had Johnny squirming with anxiety.
Morton glanced at his watch.
“Roy, I only have a couple of hours left on my shift,” he said dryly. “I don’t have the time right now to fully answer that question.”
“Yeah,” Roy quipped right back. “Maybe you could give us the short version?”
Johnny’s eyes widened, then realizing he was being made fun of, narrowed into a disgusted glare, first cast at Morton, then at Roy. His usual good humor was being evasive today, and he wasn’t in a mood to be messed with. He grabbed his jacket and slid off the table.
“Fine. You two make jokes. I’ll wait in the squad for you, Roy. Join me when you’re done laughin’.”
Startled to discover he was really mad, Morton put a hand on Johnny’s chest. “You’re not going anywhere, Gage. Get back up there, and let me take a look.”
The two stood there in a little face-off of egos, until an obviously painful cough forced Johnny to relent. When the coughing stopped, the fact that he was wheezing and short of breath was painfully obvious. Morton was suddenly all business.
“Roy, would you see if you could find Dr. Early and ask him to come in here, if he’s free? John, take your shirt off. I want to listen to your lungs.”
With a guilty, apologetic glance at Johnny, Roy left the room in search of Joe Early.
“How long have you had this cough?”
Johnny had a guilty feeling of his own. He’d been warned.
“About a… a week now, I guess. Maybe a little longer. It wasn’t bad at first. Just kind of a dry cough, mostly at night, so I didn’t think too much about it. I ate a little smoke at a fire last week, and it seemed to make it worse, but it still wasn’t the same as the other times. I haven’t felt sick. More tired than anything.”
Morton put the stethoscope to Johnny’s chest and ran him through the exercise of breathing deep, holding, exhaling, then repeating the same on his back.
This time when he stepped back, the frown on his face was genuine. “I thought we had an understanding, John. At the first sign of any problem, you were to be in here to get checked out.”
“What’s it sound like?” Johnny ignored the admonishment, worried by the serious tone of the doctor’s voice.
“There’s definitely-”
The door pushed open. Roy had the HT in his hand. Tones were continuing to sound. “Johnny, we’ve gotta go. There’s a two-alarm fire at a nursing home about a mile from here. Are you-”
“-I’m fine. Let’s go.”
“Gage....”
“We’ll be back later, Doc.”
“Dr. Morton,” Roy added, “Dr. Brackett said to tell you he needs you to help get things organized. It looks like we’ll be sending some patients your way.”
“All right. But, Gage, when this is over, I want you back in here.” Morton’s no-nonsense attitude got the point across to Roy, if not to Johnny.
As Johnny rushed by him, pulling his shirt on, Roy nodded at Morton. Quickly turning to follow, he assured the doctor they’d be back.
“Just make sure Gage doesn’t come back as one of the patients,” Morton growled under his breath, unheard by the departing paramedic. He hurried out of the room to join the rest of the ER staff to prepare for the arrival of the elderly occupants of the nursing home facility.
Mike Morton had a nagging feeling he’d just said the wrong thing.
* * * * * * * *
Roy pulled the squad up to the scene of the fire just behind 51s engine crew. Station 36 was already on the scene; the sound of approaching sirens indicated that more companies would be arriving within moments.
People were everywhere, some using walkers, some in wheelchairs, some sitting on the lawn. Still others were milling about in confusion. Nursing home staff members who weren’t assisting their patients, were anxiously conferring with Captain Stanley. 36s Captain Parker, in charge until the battalion chief arrived, was already requesting additional squads and ambulances.
DeSoto and Gage were pulling equipment off the squad, when Hank Stanley jogged up to them.
“Leave the equipment for now. The nurses say they can handle things out here until the other squads show up.” Stanley pointed to the one-story building that was well engulfed in flames, with black smoke pouring through the shattered front windows. “There's at least three patients still inside, that they know of. They’re trying to do a head count now to see if they’re missing anyone else. I need you two to get your gear on and try to get those people out. I’ve got the room numbers. I’ll send Kelly and Lopez in with a line to back you up.”
36s crew already had several hoses trained on the front of the structure. Their captain was directing the other arrivals around the sides and back of the building to try to knock down the fire from all sides, and protect the exposures. The four men from 51s entered cautiously through the front door, immediately disappearing into a thick cloud of smoke.
“Johnny! This room.” Roy tugged on the sleeve of his turnout coat to get his attention. “There should be two in here.”
It had only taken a few minutes to locate them. Both elderly women were conscious, but bedridden and panicked, choking on the smoke, tears streaming down their cheeks. Neither one weighed much, and there wasn’t time to worry about calling for stokes or backboards. Each man carefully lifted a patient in his arms, and hurried out through the hallway. They were met right outside the door by the paramedic team from 14s. Gently handing them off, Roy and Johnny returned to look for the third person in a room further down the hall.
Kelly and Lopez had beat the flames back and cleared a path, but the deadly combination of heat and smoke in the confined area quickly took its toll on all of them. Johnny, in particular, was rapidly sucking in air, moving a little slower than the others.
Once again, Roy shouted that he’d found the room. The two firefighters held back the stubborn flames, while the two paramedics went for the victim. They found him, collapsed on the floor, beside an open closet door. He was struggling to breathe, and futilely resisted their attempt to help him up.
“No. I can’t go un-until… I… I get the box.”
“Mister, we gotta get out of here now,” Roy said anxiously, putting his arm around the frail old man to assist him.
“No! The box… I’ve gotta get the box. Please.... Pictures… my wife… it’s all I have left.... Please.”
“Roy, you go ahead and get him out. I’ll get the box.” Johnny motioned Roy to get going.
“Johnny, it’s not-”
“Please,” the man pleaded.
“I can see it on the shelf up there. I’ll… I’ll be right behind you, Roy. Go!”
Without further argument, Roy helped the man out of the room, stopping long enough to tell Chet to keep an eye out for Johnny.
With the box safely in his arms, Johnny stepped out of the closet, then stopped, knowing something was seriously wrong. Before he could call for help, his chest exploded in pain. He dropped the carton and fell heavily against the wall, suddenly gasping for air, and getting none.
Outside the room, the flames were winning the battle on all sides. Nozzleman on the hose, Chet turned his head, shouting to Marco, “We can’t hold it! Tell Gage we gotta get out of here now, or our exit’s gonna be cut off. I got the line.”
Making sure Kelly had the hose secured in his grasp, Marco let go and went into the room. “John! We gotta go.” He started to leave, but noticed Johnny wasn’t responding. “John?” Through the smoke, Marco could see he was practically doubled over, trying to pull his air mask off.
Hurrying to Johnny’s side, Marco could hear him fighting for air while he grappled with his mask. Thinking something had gone wrong with the regulator on the air tank, Marco let Johnny know he was there to help him out. Johnny shook his head, and pushed Marco away.
“John, we gotta get out of here. Let me help you. Chet’s waiting for us, but we don’t have long.”
Johnny had his mask off and was in apparent distress, still fighting Marco’s urgent offer of help. It wasn’t until he stood up straight and almost passed out, that he fell over Lopez’ shoulder and felt himself carried into the hallway. The knifelike pain in his chest was worsened by his inability to draw a breath; panic at not being able to breathe sent his heart rate sky high.
Feeling a sharp tap on his shoulder, Chet started backing up with the hose. Trying to hold off the flames licking at their feet, he covered his crewmates’ escape. Chunks of ceiling tiles pelted their helmets, and collapsing crossbeams threatened to block their escape.
Firefighters were being ordered out of the building. People outside had been moved as far away as possible, and surrounding businesses had been evacuated. The nursing home had a supply room full of oxygen tanks, and with no hope of stopping the fire, an explosion was imminent. The best they could hope for was to keep the fire from spreading to adjacent structures, and preventing further injuries.
Roy and Hank Stanley waited by the engine for Gage and Kelly and Lopez, neither one speaking, both growing anxious at the delay. Finally spotting them coming through the doorway at as close to a dead run as they could, Roy started toward them.
Chet pulled off his mask and shouted, “Roy! Get the oxygen! We’ve got him.”
Instantly reacting, Roy pulled the oxygen off the engine and started to set it up. Marco eased Johnny down and leaned him against the side of the rig. Roy took one look, and started issuing instructions.
“Chet, get the drug box and bio-phone. Cap, can you and Marco get his tank and coat off? Johnny? Let me get the oxygen on.” Roy set it for 15 liters, and tried to put the mask over Johnny’s face, only to have it pushed away. “Johnny, listen to me. You need oxygen.”
“Can’t.... Can’t breathe. No-no mask.” Johnny groaned and twisted in pain, no longer able to fight Roy off.
Once the mask was on, Roy checked Johnny’s pulse, and was shocked at how fast it was racing. It was 140, while his respirations were rapid and shallow. Johnny was becoming cyanotic and mumbling about pain in his chest.
“Rampart, this is County 51, how do you read?” Chet had dropped the drug box at Roy’s feet, then opened the line to the hospital.
“Go ahead, 51. We read you loud and clear.”
“Rampart, we have a firefighter down. Request that you stand by.”
* * * * * * * *
“Standing by, 51.” Brackett didn’t think twice about hearing Chet Kelly’s voice. It wasn’t unusual any longer for engine crews to assist paramedics in the field.
Also in the base station room, using the landline, Mike Morton overheard the call. He finished making arrangements with CCU for the patient that 99s was bringing in, then turned to Brackett.
“Did 51 say who it was?”
“No.”
“Can you ask if it’s Gage?”
Shooting Morton a puzzled look, Brackett went ahead with the transmission. “County 51. Is your patient John Gage?”
“That’s affirmative Rampart. He’s having a lot of trouble breathing. Possible smoke inhalation. Vitals coming up. Stand by.”
“How’d you know, Mike?”
“Gage was in the exam room less than an hour ago, with a severe cough and wheezing. I barely had a chance to listen to his lungs before they took off. I didn’t like what I heard, and was about to arrange for some tests, when they got the call. He was supposed to come in as soon as they wrapped things up at the fire.”
Brackett shook his head. “With Johnny’s recent history, that’s not a good sign. If he inhaled some smoke on top of whatever he’s got this time, it could be pretty rough.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t have let him go.” Morton silently chastised himself.
“Mike, we both know Johnny. You couldn’t have kept him here even if you had sat on him. Let’s just hope it’s not too serious.”
“Rampart, this is County 51....”
* * * * * * * *
Roy’s brows knitted in a frown as he listened again through the stethoscope. Pulling it away from his ears, he checked the oxygen flow again. It seemed to only bring minor relief. Johnny was still moaning, confused and unable to answer questions in complete sentences.
“Cap, can you see if there’s an ambulance available? I need a gurney over here. We’re gonna have to transport right away. He’s not getting enough oxygen. Marco, what happened in there after I left? Was there any sign that anything fell on him, or that Johnny was injured in any way?”
“No, not that I could see, Roy. He was slumped against the wall, trying to take his air mask off. He wouldn’t even let me help him at first.”
Stanley returned quickly with an ambulance team and a gurney. “What do you want us to do, Roy?”
“Can you get Johnny on the gurney? Tilt the back up. Keep him in a semi-fowlers position, and make sure the oxygen mask stays put. Then turn him so he’s on his left side. Watch his IV, too. Be careful it doesn’t get pulled out.”
Roy took the receiver from Chet to talk to Brackett himself.
“Rampart, this is County 51 again. Rampart, IV D5W has been established. I’m detecting decreased breath sounds on the left side. We’re changing his position to see if that doesn’t ease his breathing some.”
“51, is there any evidence of chest trauma or rib injury?”
“That’s negative, Rampart. At least as far as I can tell. Johnny was complaining of sudden chest pain and shortness of breath. It doesn’t make sense....”
“Once you’ve got him repositioned, get a new set of vitals. Get him patched in and send a strip right away.”
“Ten-four, Rampart.”
Roy dropped the phone and went back to Johnny’s side. Crouching by the gurney, he was relieved to see that the blueness around his lips had disappeared and some color had returned to Johnny’s face. He was less agitated and more coherent. The pain was diminished, and his struggle for air lessened. Still far from all right, it seemed he’d survived a crucial moment.
“Johnny? It looks like you’re feeling a little better, huh? Don’t… don’t try to talk. I need to get some new vitals and get you patched in, okay?” Keeping his voice low and steady, Roy continued to reassure Johnny that everything would be fine. “You just relax, and try to take it easy.”
Johnny closed his eyes and nodded, while Roy checked his pulse and took his BP again. With his eyes still shut, Johnny missed the look of relief on his partner’s face.
“Rampart. Pulse is still rapid, but down to 110, respirations are shallow and labored. I can hear wheezing, but he appears to be more comfortable.”
“All right, 51. Keep a close watch on his breathing. Standing by to receive a strip.”
“EKG comin’ up. This will be lead two.”
* * * * * * * *
“So, what do you think?” Morton asked. “It sounds like a pneumothorax, but the absence of trauma…?”
With his hand still on the radio, Brackett thought it over. “Could be a primary spontaneous pneumo… he fits the profile -- tall, thin male between 20 and 40. It’s possible it’s a secondary one, given that there may have already been respiratory complications. Spontaneous pneumos aren’t very common, but then....”
“… Gage doesn’t usually present us with common problems.”
“Exactly. Why don’t you have Carol help you get a room set up, Mike. If that is the problem, we may have to go with a chest tube to get that lung re-inflated. We’ll see how big it looks on the X-rays before we decide. It might depend on what the problem was before this happened, too.”
“I’m on it right now, Kel.”
“They’re not very far away. The ambulance should be here in just a few minutes. I’ll be in my office. There’s something I… I want to check. Just let me know when they get here.”
Morton paused at the door. “This isn’t good, is it?”
Brackett had a grim look on his face. “No, Mike. It’s not.”
Not good at all.
* * * * * * * *
Roy quietly slipped into the room, not wanting to wake Johnny if he was sleeping. They'd sedated him before inserting the chest tube, and he'd fallen asleep as soon as they moved him to an observation room. The heart monitor indicated a near-normal rate now, and he was breathing easier through the oxygen mask. Roy was about to leave, when Johnny stirred and opened his eyes.
“Hey, Johnny. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."
"No. 's okay."
"I just wanted to check on you before I took off. I gotta get back to the station. Chuck’s comin’ in at eight to finish your shift. You… uh… you doin’ okay?”
“Y-yeah. Doesn’t hurt as much now.”
“Well, don’t try to talk. Dr. Brackett said you’d be feeling a lot better this time tomorrow. I’ll stop by in the morning before I go home. You try to get some rest.”
“Easier said… than done ‘round here.”
“Yeah. Just don’t give the nurses a hard time. Remember they’re just doin’ their job.”
“I… I never give anyone a… a hard time, Roy.”
“Right. See you tomorrow, John.”
“Roy? Tha-thanks. Tell the… tell the guys thanks.”
“I will. Goodnight, Johnny.”
Roy waited a minute, then left as quietly as he came.
“Roy took the news pretty hard, didn’t he?” Joe Early poured the cold coffee down the drain and rinsed his cup.
“Not half as hard as that partner of his is going to take it.” Brackett set his cup on the counter, and folded his arms. “I know Roy won’t say anything when he goes in there, but he has a hard time putting up a good front. Johnny’s gonna see right through him, if he’s not careful.”
“I still think it’s too soon to make any predictions about his prognosis,” Early cautioned. “Until we’re able to run some tests, we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions. We could be looking at something as simple as an onset of asthma, or possibly chronic bronchitis. Asthma could be controlled easily enough, and with proper precautions, even the bronchitis could be managed.”
“You’d be right, Joe… if we were talking about an average person with an average job. But, we’re talking about a firefighter here, and a paramedic as well. Someone with one of those diseases, whose workplace environment repeatedly exposes him to all sorts of dangerous conditions, is only going to get worse over time. Even precautions and medications can't postpone the inevitable.”
“I suppose the fire department would consider that a future risk, and think twice about letting him return to work,” Early conceded.
“What’s worse is we could be looking at something even more serious. If it's chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or acute respiratory distress syndrome, Johnny certainly won’t be returning to work. Between the risk of being exposed to infectious diseases and the potential for inhalation of smoke and toxic fumes on the job -- his lungs couldn’t handle the punishment. Now that he’s suffered a pneumo, the odds of that happening again are 50-50.”
Brackett hated playing the devil’s advocate, though he preferred to think of it as being realistic. Knowing that Gage would argue his case all the way to the Supreme Court, if that’s what it took to keep his job, the doctor reminded himself that John’s life was his concern, not his employment. After all, a job wasn’t worth dying for.
Deep down, he knew he was only kidding himself. He and Johnny were a lot alike in one respect. They identified with their careers so strongly, it wasn’t much of a life if they couldn’t do what they loved.
Thinking back to the car accident that had started this whole chain of events, Brackett sighed.
Roy was right.
Justice hadn’t been served.
* * * * * * * *
Dixie glanced at the TV screen before Johnny turned it off with the remote control. Something about that organ music....
“I just had the strangest sense of deja vu,” she said with a smile.
“Hey, Dix. I didn’t know you were back. How was the vacation?”
“It was great, until I got home and heard the news. It looks like I’m just going to have to stop taking time off. Every time I do, you wind up in the hospital.”
“Well, if that’s what it takes to keep me outta here, would you mind?”
“What, and keep you from catching up on your favorite soap opera?”
“I tell you, Dix. It’s been almost six months, and… and I think she’s still in that same session. I kinda thought by now she and the doc would have… well, you know.”
“John Gage -- you devil, you. So tell me. The rumors I’ve been hearing about you since I got here this morning.... Are they true?”
Johnny frowned. “Wh-what rumors?”
“The nurses tell me you’ve been a model patient. You’re taking your meds, you haven’t complained about anything, you’ve been eating all your meals, and… I hear you’re even nice to the respiratory therapist.”
Sighing in defeat, Johnny gave her a hint of a grin. “A guy just can’t win around here. Seems like I get a reputation no matter what I do.”
He groaned softly when he shifted his position in bed. It wasn’t for sympathy. The discomfort was real enough, although not as bad since the chest tube had been removed. Johnny laid his head back on the pillow, and slowly blinked his eyes.
Besides tired, Dixie thought he looked kind of sad. “What’s wrong, Johnny?”
“I want to go home. I want to lay flat on my back for just five minutes. I want to sleep for more than two hours without someone waking me up to... to make me cough and make me breathe deep, or to take blood. They wake me up just to ask how I’m feelin’. And... and then they wonder why I’m so tired.”
“Johnny, you know they have to make sure this doesn’t turn into pneumonia. They’d have let you go home already, if it wasn’t for that. It’s only been three days.”
“I know. I know. Sometimes the cure is worse than the ailment, though. I- I just want to be left alone. No offense, Dix. I need some time to think.”
“No offense taken. I understand.” Dixie studied him closely. There had been something unspoken in what he just said. “Johnny, what is it you need to think about?”
He raised his head and shifted again, trying to get comfortable. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I need to be protected from the truth. They seem to… to think I can’t figure it out for myself. They’re worried I can’t go back to work, and I’m worried that I can. Every time I try to bring it up, the subject gets changed. Roy doesn’t even want to come by any more, ‘cause he’s afraid I might want to talk about it.”
“Johnny, from what I hear, no one really knows for sure what the problem is. Until your lung is healed enough to run some meaningful tests and take some more X-rays, they can’t make an accurate diagnosis. It’s too soon to talk about whether you can go back to work or not.”
Johnny took as deep a breath as he could, then exhaled. “Dixie, I’m twenty-seven years old. Sometimes, like right now, I feel twice that age. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m gonna make it to thirty, let alone fifty. The job’s killin’ me. Maybe I shouldn’t go back.”
“Well, you knew when you became a firefighter there were risks involved. It’s never seemed to bother you before. I kind of thought you thrived on the danger."
“Maybe. But, there’s times when I think my luck’s gonna run out. I’ve gotta have the worst record in the department. The average firefighter doesn’t even end up in the hospital once in his career. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been here.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not the average firefighter.”
“That’s not the point, but don’t make it sound like I’m better’n anyone else. Every firefighter puts his life on the line just by… by showin’ up for work. But, you know, Dix, I’ve been close to dying more than once, and every time, it’s been because of my job. The virus, the snakebite, the car accident. That’s not to mention the times I’ve been blown up, caved-in on, or knocked down. Maybe I’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time, I don’t know. I just know it’s time to… to stop and think about it, before it’s too late.”
It was pretty hard to argue with his logic for a change, but she wasn’t going to agree too readily. “Okay.... Who are you, and what have you done with the real Johnny Gage?”
He picked at some fuzz on the blanket for a long minute, before meeting her eyes. “I don’t know where he is right now, Dix. Maybe this is the real me. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this any more.”
“I guess you’re the only one who can figure that out, Johnny. I’ve got to get back to work. Just do me a favor, will you?”
“Sure, Dix.”
“While you’re trying to decide....”
“Yeah?”
“See if you can’t find the other Johnny Gage. Ask him why he became a firefighter in the first place.”
Dixie left the room, and Johnny picked up the remote control and turned the TV back on.
He’d think about it later.
Right now, things were heating up in the doctor’s office.
* * * * * * * *
Roy pulled into the driveway, glad to see Johnny’s truck parked there. He hadn’t called ahead of time -- a rare impulse had brought him here. They hadn’t seen each other, or talked much, in the last three weeks. Roy had been busy working some overtime, but he’d gotten the feeling that Johnny had been avoiding him.
Dixie had told him that Johnny had been in for his tests a week ago, and had spent a long time talking to the doctors. Not that she would have divulged the information anyway, but she didn’t know what the results were, or when he’d be able to return to work.
It was dusk. The March sky was gray and clouded. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, then was swept away by the chilly breeze that signaled the arrival of a storm from the north. Roy got out of his car and took a deep breath. The smell of the wood fire, mingled with the promise of rain in the air, and the scent of the fresh grass clippings that covered the front lawn, was a refreshing change from the asphalt and gasoline smell of the city, just a few miles away.
It had been months since he’d been to Johnny’s place. He’d forgotten how peaceful it was in the hillside canyon. Pulling his jacket around his neck to keep the wind out, Roy crossed the lawn and stepped onto the porch, hesitating a moment before ringing the doorbell. He smiled when he heard Johnny’s voice from inside, telling the dog to be quiet, before the door opened.
Johnny didn’t look the least bit surprised to see him.
“Come on in, Roy.” Johnny held the door open wide, with a glance at the sky. "Looks like rain any time now."
Roy stepped inside at the invitation, feeling suddenly awkward for the impromptu visit. “Sorry to just drop in, Johnny. I… uh… hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“No, not at all. I was just gonna have something to eat and watch a little TV and turn in early tonight. One of my neighbors brought over a meat loaf and some other stuff. She thinks I don’t eat enough, so she’s always dropping by with something for me.”
“Women seem to think it’s the way to a man’s heart. You better watch out.”
“She’s almost eighty-years old, Roy. I think my bachelorhood is safe.”
Johnny led the way down the hall to the kitchen and large den at the back of the house. The logs were blazing in the fireplace, the stereo was playing some soft jazz, a glass of wine sat on the coffee table next to some magazines. The dog was curled up on the couch, already snoring softly.
Roy wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he was glad to see Johnny looking relaxed and in good health. “You sure I’m not interrupting anything? I should have called....”
“Roy, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been plannin’ to call you, I just haven’t gotten around to it. Been kinda busy, you know?”
“Yeah? That’s good. Me too.”
“Why don’t you get the meat loaf out of the oven.” Johnny tossed him some hot pads. “You want a beer or a glass of wine?”
Roy smiled in amusement. “Around my house at dinnertime, it’s a choice between milk or coffee. A glass of wine sounds kinda nice for a change.”
They settled in the den with their plates on their laps, making small talk while they ate. When the dishes were cleared away, and the glasses filled again with a mellow cabernet, conversation drifted away for a while. Johnny finally got up and put another log on the fire, then sat back down on the edge of the chair, not knowing how to begin.
“Roy....”
“Yeah?”
“You know I… uh… I’ve been cleared to go back to work next week.”
“Johnny, that’s great!”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was under-whelming.
Roy brushed that aside for the moment. “I take it they figured out what was wrong?”
“The good news is that I... I don’t have asthma or chronic bronchitis, or anything more serious. It seems we forgot to tell the doctors about the fumes at that factory fire. You remember that? They did some checking, and found out I had some low-level exposure to sulfur dioxide gases. It might not have caused a problem if I hadn’t already had a bronchial infection, but the combination was… obviously not good. Then I let it go too long, and, well, you know the results.”
“That is good news. But, why do I get the feeling there’s some bad news? Was there a problem at headquarters?”
“No. No, not really. I guess once they found out what caused it, Brackett and Early were able to convince them I wasn’t a risk to myself or anyone else. Of course, they… they kicked my ass from one end of Brackett’s office to the other for not coming in right away. I probably could have avoided the whole thing if I had. I’m under strict orders to clean up my lifestyle a little. You know, eating better, sleeping more, not letting myself get run down. I should have been doing that ever since the accident, but I got kinda lazy. I don’t think I’ll make that mistake again.”
“I suppose that’s something we should all start doing. But, Johnny, you still haven’t given me the bad news. You’re not still thinking about quitting, are you?”
“Dixie told you, huh?”
“Well, not in so many words. She really didn’t have to. After all these years, I can tell what you’re thinkin’. She just kind of confirmed it.”
They both stared at the fire for a few minutes. Only the popping and crackling of the logs broke into their silence, until Roy couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Johnny?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I… I’m gonna go back to work. I don't think there was ever really any question about it. But.... I don’t know. Something’s changed. It’s hard to explain. I feel like I’m runnin' out of time. I need to do something different. You know, my ten-year anniversary with the department is coming up. I talked to people at headquarters. They’re planning to give the Captain’s exam next month, and probably again in August. I’ve decided to take the exam then. I think it’s… it’s time to move on.”
“You’d give up being a paramedic?”
“It wasn’t an easy decision. I thought about a lot of things for a long time. But, yeah. It’s time to let the youngsters handle the rescue work.”
Roy looked up from the spot on the floor he’d been studying, to see a smile on Johnny’s face.
“Well, old man, it sounds like your mind’s made up.”
“It is, Roy. What about you? Why don’t you think about it again? You’ve already got your ten years in. You could take the exam next month if you wanted to.”
“That’s not much time to prepare. Besides, I’m not sure it’s what I want. You know me. I’ve gotta think things through, talk to Joanne, and think some more.”
“I do know you. You’d make a great captain. Besides, with me gone, who else could put up with you for a partner as long as I have?”
“Put up with me? I think you have that backwards.”
“Roy?”
“Yeah?”
“I… uh.... You understand why I’m doin’ this, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. A lot of things have been bothering you lately that never used to. I don’t even think you realize it, but I see it. I guess I’m not surprised. Just a little.... “
“Yeah, I know. Me too.”
The fire was dying. The rain had started, and darkness had fallen hours ago. Roy checked the time, and was surprised at the late hour. He rose to go.
“You mind if I use your phone, Johnny? I want to call Joanne and let her know I’m on my way home. She worries, you know.”
“You’re a lucky man, Roy. Phone’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. Just be sure to leave the dime on the counter.”
“The di-?”
“Hey, I’ve been off work for three weeks. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”
Roy pulled a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it at Johnny, who caught it in midair.
“Keep the change.”
“Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. That’s what partners are for… partner.”
“No, Roy," Johnny gently corrected him, "That’s what friends are for....”
* * * * * * * *
Authors Note:
This story started out as a submission for the "Make Johnny Cough" contest at Juniors Journals, but I decided it belonged here at Emergency! Universe after all. When finished, it was apparent that it is a companion piece to a new story I'm writing, which is a "missing scene" from the Johnny/Shannon series.
My friend "Sparky" sent a contest entry to JJs instead, called "Not a Good Day to Die." Check it out on the contest page, if you haven't already.
Thanks to MJ and Tigger for their contest inspiration that got this started, to Becca for her insight, and as always, thanks to E!U for the gracious support and input.
FEED THE WRITER
