BY Palaytia Dream

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. tap. Drum, drum, drum, drum. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Drum, drum, drum, drum.... SLAP! Scraaappppeeee. Pace, pace, pace, pace..., snap, snap, smack..., snap, snap, smack. Pace, pace, pace, pace..., yaaaaawwwwnn..., streeeetttchh. Scratch.

Scraaaaappee. Tap, tap, tap, tap..., drum, drum, drum, drum....

“This can’t be for real.”

“Well, it is.”

“I must be dreaming,” came a muffled voice from the couch.

“I’ve never had anything like this happen in my whole career,” said Captain Stanley.

“Ya know, you guys really need to quit complaining,” said Chet as he removed the newspaper from his face and sat up. “Enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Mike looked at his watch -- disgusted, he shook his head. “We’ve been here for eight hours and nothing.”

“Yeah,” added Marco, “it’s like we’ve been forgotten or something.”

Grimacing, John leaned back in his chair rubbing his stomach. “Yeah? Well, I wish I could forget lunch.”

“Next time, you cook lunch, Gage,” Chet shot back.

Pulling out the chair next to Marco, Chet propped his feet up in front of Johnny.

“Yeah, we’d be sure to get a call then. ‘Still Alarm.... Food poisoning... at Station 51, all units respond.’”

Everyone snickered as Chet clutched his stomach and fell to the floor. John glared at Chet to which he replied with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows before retreating back to the couch.

“Cap, are you sure our alarms aren’t shorted or something?” inquired Johnny. “I mean something like this just doesn’t happen.”

Stanley scratched his head.

“Well, so far it has. I called dispatch earlier and they said there just haven’t been any calls on their end. They are just as puzzled as we are. In fact....”

Tones sounded, cutting the Captain short. Each man froze as Station 127, Station 8 along with Squad 8 were dispatched to an unknown rescue. John threw a wadded ball of paper toward the trash when their station wasn't part of that call. He dropped his head loudly onto the table after missing by a long shot.

“Man, I’m starting to wish I was at 8’s,” he mumbled, talking into the table.

“Yeah, well, so do the rest of us,” replied Chet.

The Captain stopped John just before he could fully enjoy placing a couch pillow over Chet’s giggling face and mock protests.

“Cool it, guys,” said Stanley. “Now, I know the stress of a quiet day is killing us, but please, don’t take it out on our fellow crew members, okay?” He directed the last statement to John with a wry grin.

“Yeah, Cap,” acknowledge Gage. “I guess I’ll go check the drug box..., again.”

Roy followed his partner to the squad and started unloading the trauma kit. “The quiet getting to you?”

“Yeah,” Johnny huffed as he went through the motions of inventorying the drug box. “Ya know, as long as I’ve been in this business, I’ve never had a quiet shift like today.”

“Well, the day isn’t over yet,” Roy said in a false, optimistic voice. “Remember, we still have fifteen hours left on the shift, the whole city could go to pot in that time.”

John flashed Roy a crooked grin, “We can only hope. If it doesn’t, we just might.”

Roy chuckled in agreement, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Captain Stanley rounded the corner in time to hear Roy’s comment. “Conspiring against me are we?”

“Nah, Cap. We just thought we’d check over the equipment, again,” answered Roy.

“That’s the third time today you two have checked your squad. You act like we’re going to have a disaster or something.”

“We wish,” mumbled Johnny.

“Speak for yourself,” came a voice from behind Stanley. Looking up to see Chet, Johnny quickly shut the drug box and stowed it away.

“Ya know, Chet....”

“Now, you two cut it out,” cut-in Stanley, “or I just may go spend the day at 8’s and leave you kindergartners to fend for yourself.”

Chet shrugged his shoulders and did an “about face” back into the recroom.

“Ya know, he could really begin to get on my nerves...,” said Johnny.

“Yeah well, I think we all are becoming just a little tense.”

“That’s right, Roy. The key thing here is not to lose our heads.” Stanley frowned and walked off, his shoulders weighed down like a man carrying a burden much too heavy for his slight frame.

Roy finished his task and closed the compartment doors. Leaning against the squad in exasperation he turned to his partner.

“Well?”

“Humph.”

“I agree. I’m going to the kitchen, you want a cup of coffee?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go sit on my bunk for a while. Maybe if I fall asleep we’ll get something. Anything.”

That’s Johnny’s logic for ya. If you can’t get a run eating, try sleeping, thought Roy as he pushed through the kitchen door.

“Awwwwwwwww, Man! Roy! Now look what you’ve done.”

Roy’s face reddened in embarrassment when he noticed at least two decks worth of cards scattered about on the table and floor with Marco and Mike chasing after them.

“I’m sorry. Really.”

“Yeah, you ought to be,” Chet called out from the couch. “They were close to seven stories, man. It was amazing.”

“I’m sure it was,” Roy replied apologetically. Not wishing to be the cause of hard feelings, Roy knelt down and swept up the cards nearest his feet. “Do you mind if I..., uh..., mind if I help?” he asked sheepishly.

“Sure, that way you won’t be barging in on us and ruining the tower.”

“Yeah, but you forgot about someone,” Mike piped in. “Gage.”

Chet put down his magazine and the crew could see a plan forming on his brow.

“Just where is Johnny, anyway?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“I think he went to his bunk. He figures if he sleeps, we’ll get a run.”

Chet grinned.

“Ahhh..., I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” suggested Marco.

Chet stopped short of the door. “And, why not?”

“Well, you just might ruin our chance of ever having a run today.” Marco and Mike laughed at the comment, exchanging a cautioned high five as the card house was just over three stories high now.

“Yeah, Marco’s right,” continued Mike. “It’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Stanley looked up from his coffee, befuddled at the logic some of his crew members had, wondering how he’d ever made it this far.

Chet pushed his way through the door and headed toward the bunkroom leaving Marco, Mike and Roy by the table, a card in each hand, staring down at what used to be a towering structure.

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

Assured no one was lurking around the corner, John opened his locker, took from it a handful of sticks in various sizes, sheets of colored tissue paper and a large ball of string. Whistling happily, he headed to his bunk, carefully juggling the unusual items. He neatly arranged the articles and then rearranged them. He stood there, hands on hips.

Now, how did I use to do this?

“Ah, ha!” He took two sticks, crossing them in the middle, and said to himself, “we got to start with the frame first. Of course. Now, just to keep them together....”

With one hand, he held the cross pieces tightly against each other while his free hand searched for the string. Upon finding it, he pulled away a long piece, not before the ball rolled away and bounced under Roy’s bunk. Sending a string of flowery language along with the AWOL ball of string, John proceeded to fasten the cross pieces together. As one hand held them in place, the other wrapped the string around the center of the sticks. Soon, a nice size lump formed up and over....

John wrestled to remove his finger from captivity.

Once freed, he started again, this time placing the longer stick between his knees for better support. And again, he wrapped the string around the center, making sure no fingers were in the way. Finding himself successful, he held up the frame to admire his work..., only to see the longer of the two sticks slip through and clatter to the floor.

Chet stood silently in the doorway, watching as Johnny helplessly entangled one finger and another in a constant losing battle against the string while pastel colored tissue paper covered the bed around him.

Johnny looked up from his mess in time to see Chet walk in. “Oh no, not you, again.”

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Chet invited himself to sit on Roy’s bunk, picking up the ball of string that had once again retreated to the floor.

“So, what’s all this for? Taken up knitting?” Chet’s grin broadened. “Is there something we should know, Gage?”

John snatched the ball from Chet and stuck it behind his back.

“Ya know Chet, why don’t you just go..., go....”

“'Go' what, Gage? Look man, all I did was come in here to see if you needed any help that’s all.” He stood to leave. “I mean, obviously kite making isn’t your thing and I figured it might be easier with two people that’s all.” Johnny mumbled something under his breath as Chet headed to the door.

“What was that, Gage? You say you want my help?” Chet grinned and he cupped his hand to his ear. “You need help?”

Exasperated, Johnny looked up. “Just forget I said anything, Chet.”

Seeing John’s obvious frustration, Chet once again offered his help. This time in a friendlier manner. That and he was bored out of his gourd. He approached the bed, hands in the air as a gesture of peace. Johnny acknowledged by handing him two sticks.

“Here, hold these and don’t let go.”

Chet dutifully obeyed. “Hey now, watch my fingers.” Johnny's brown eyes looked up crossly from his work quieting any further smart remarks from Chet.

“So, whatcha making this for?”

“I promised I’d make them for the kids up on the cancer ward,” said John nonchalantly.

“Uh, huh. What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?” asked Johnny back, still concentrating on tieing the cross pieces.

“The nurse who suckered you into this.”

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Johnny stopped to confront Chet’s accusation.

“Who said anything about a nurse?”

Chet persisted. “Oh, come on, Gage. Anytime you mention the hospital, there’s usually a nurse involved.”

“Please Chet, really. The kids up there needed something to brighten their rooms and I thought....”

“Now see, there ya go. The great Gage does not go making kites for a bunch of kids just because.”

“And, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re Johnny Gage,” said Chet with a mischievious grin. The brown haired paramedic ignored the last statement, his concentration squelched by Chet’s accusation.

“Jane.”

“Huh?”

“Her name is Jane. Now do you mind letting go so I can put the paper on it?”

“I can’t.”

“What do ya mean ya can’t. I tied it off. It’s not going anywhere. Now give me my kite back.”

Chet held up his hand, “You tied my finger to it.”

Mike stuck his head through the doorway, stopping for a moment to take in the scene before him. Chet sat on Roy’s bunk holding up his left hand. From it hung a kite frame. From his index finger to be exact. Johnny was trying feverishly to untangle the giant knot that bound Chet to the wooden cross.

“Hey..., uh..., if you guys aren’t too tied up in here,” he said, only slightly managing to suppress his laughter. “Marco and I are starting a game of basketball outback.”

“Ha, ha,” came John's dry response. “Now, get outta here before I tie you to the next one.”

“Hey Gage, how about getting me out of this one first, okay?” Chet motioned to his stuck finger.

“I’m getting it. I’m getting it.”

“Hey, Gage,” Mike stuck his head back in. “If you needed a kite tail, how come you didn’t just use a ribbon like everyone else?” Mike quickly let the door swing shut behind him, his laughter filling the locker room.

John’s ears burned. “Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think...”

“Don’t think Gage, that’s what got you into this mess into the first place.” Chet took the sticks and twisted his finger out from under the mass of string. “If I were you, I’d find another nurse. Maybe one who works in the morgue. I don’t think they care about the scenery much down there.” With that, Chet followed Mike’s stream of laughter into the bay leaving John back where he started, with an unraveled ball of string, two sticks and tissue paper every where.

With a heavy sigh, the young paramedic scratched his head. “Aw, heck!” He grabbed the contents of his lap and bed and hurriedly placed everything back into his locker. He then sought out the rest of the crew.

They were easy enough to find. Each man was eager to burn off some much needed steam and the best way they knew how was playing a fast game of basketball. They divided into teams: Mike and Marco sided up leaving Johnny with Chet.

The first game was hard and fast with Mike and Marco taking the lead every chance they got.

“Come on, Chet, it’s not like you’ve got your fingers tied to that stupid kite,” said Johnny as Marco stole the ball once again for another basket. Chet shrugged his shoulders.

The second game started a little better. Chet and Johnny did more passing than anything, but at least, they were keeping the ball from the opposing team. Roy came out just in time to see Johnny go for a layout and sink it. Chet and Gage exchanged high fives and basked in their winning streak. Somewhere in the near distance, a clap of thunder punctuated the moment causing a time out in the game.

“Oh, I don’t believe this.” John wearily wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Quick Gage, go tie Chet to your kite.” Mike and Marco obviously thought this was funny since both were holding their sides, never noticing that the edge of the thunder cloud had reached them. Roy for that matter was amused as well.

“Well, yeah? Ya think you’re so funny, Stoker?” John tossed the ball to Stoker. “How about a game of one-on-one?”

“I don’t think that’d be advisable,” came the parental voice of the Captain.

“Oh, why not, Cap?” questioned Roy. “I was looking forward to a little excitement this evening and I’m afraid this is all we might get.” He grinned as Gage and Stoker went about dribbling the ball in puddles that were forming quickly in the back parking lot.

Chet and Marco sought shelter under the eves.

“This is the sorriest wet t-shirt contest I’ve ever seen.” Several sounds of choking were heard. Marco cast Chet a grin. Chet responded with a "gotcha look" and left, announcing his lack of nutrition was causing him dizzy spells.

“I don’t think food has anything to do with Kelly’s dizziness.”

The crews’ out-and-out chuckling with a giggle followed the Captain back into the bay, the basketball game forgotten.

"I think we've been insulted, Mike."

"Me, too."

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

After setting the table, Chet called the crew for dinner noticing Johnny and Roy conversing on the couch, Johnny freshly showered after the brief downpour that called off the game of one-on-one. Both men still had damp hair, but clean, dry uniforms. Neither man acknowledged the "dinner bell." A little annoyed, Chet called them a second time.

Neither man seemed anxious to move.

"Oh, come on, guys. Whatcha afraid of? You might get a call or something?"

Johnny was in no mood to play games. “No, Chet. That’s not it. Now, will ya just leave us alone?”

They had less then half an hour before Johnny's favorite show came on and the last thing he wanted now was a run. Okay, so maybe Chet was half-right. After the dinner dishes were washed and the kitchen spotless, each man took a seat in front of the TV.

"This ought to do it," muttered Johnny during the opening credits of Police Story.

"Well, let's hope it does," Mike added. "I'd hate to be sound asleep and get called out."

"Well, ya know, it's been my experience...." The Captain's reminiscence was quickly shushed by his crew as the show started.

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

The mirror fogged over as Mike shaved. From the shower, the faint, yet distinct sound of the Captain humming could be heard. Mike picked up on it and joined in. He finished, splashed on some cologne and headed to the bunkroom, humming along the way. He crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and settled in, for hopefully a quiet evening. Unfortunately for him, he was still humming, and it was spreading across the room.

Lying in the dark, he could hear Marco and Roy on the other side of the barrier quietly singing.

“Ah-weem a-way ah-aweem a-way....”

On cue, John joined in, “In the jungle, the mighty jungle the lion sleeps tonight.”

“In the jungle, the mighty jungle the lion sleeps tonight,” came Captain Stanley’s voice from the locker room.

This was met by a very definite Chet, who responded with a loud...”Ooooooooweeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaawwwwwwwwweeeeeeee a-mum mum away.”

Stunned silence followed.

What else could top Chet’s performance thought Mike. “Good night, Chet.”

“Nighty, Mikey,” Chet replied.

“Good night, Cap,” piped in Marco.

“Yeah, good night, Marco.”

“Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Good night.”

Before Roy could reply, the room filled with a parting, “Good night, John Boy,” and all was quiet.

Chet waited a few minutes before turning a flashlight on in his bed. This was met with loud protests and groans from the room. Chet ignored them. He lay there bathed in the soft glow, hands across his chest, twiddling his fingers. He shifted to his side accidently shining the light in his face, generating a shower of glimmering sparks to float across his eyes.

After the effects wore off, he contorted his hands into a butterfly shape and held them in front of the light producing a like image on the wall. With a grin, he tried another. Soon, he had gone through a plethora of shadow puppets before settling on the rabbit. He paraded his hand back and forth past the light.

“Little bunny foo foo, walking through the forest,” he started in a quiet voice. “Scoopin' up the field mice and boppin ‘em on the head.” He emphasized boppin' with a loud smack of his hand against his fist. Going through the motions he continued.

“Down came the good fairy and she said....”

“Little Chester Kelly, I don’t want to hear you singing about field mice or I'm gonna bop you on the head,” sing-songed Johnny through clenched teeth. This too was punctuated by a pillow being catapulted from Marco’s bunk into Chester’s.

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

The next morning, each crewmember staggered into the kitchen looking like the princess who had slept on the pea. They greeted each other with grunts and groans while partaking of a much needed cup of coffee.

“One more night like that,” Roy finally spoke up, “And, I think I may go out and start some action.”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Roy took a deep drink of his “go juice.” “I stayed up most of the night with that stupid song running through my head. And when that didn’t work, I was dreaming about rabbits.”

John glanced over at Chet, the most awake person in the bunch. It was true though, John also didn’t sleep a wink that night. Between the tones not going off and the lion’s, rabbits and field mice, John was about to go out on the next call, no matter if he was on shift or not.

“Well, guys,” said the Captain as cheerfully as he could force himself, “in an hour this nightmare will be over and we can all go home and rest.”

Mike looked up from his coffee. “You make it sound like we had a busy shift, Cap.”

“We did, Mike. We were busy trying to keep each other from going out of our minds.”

Mike shrugged his shoulders and went back to his coffee.

“I don’t think my stomach’s up for this,” whispered Johnny to his partner as he swirled the brown water in his cup.

Roy looked sympathetically at Johnny before suggesting they go grab something after work. The reply was as he expected, an enthusiastic yes. C-shift started rolling in right then.

“Man, you guys look like crap.”

“Was it that bad last night?”

The look on A shift’s faces was enough to cut the next guys comments short, sending him to the empty pot of coffee instead. “Oh, come on, guys,” he started as he set to brew another round, “it couldn’t have been all that bad.”

“Oh, no?” came the combined rebuttals from Gage and Lopez.

“It was quieter than ole Stoker here,” commented Chet, sliding a friendly arm around Mike.

“I find that hard to believe.”

The Captain rounded the corner, followed by Hookraider, each shaking their head. “Better believe it boys, I just looked at the log. Not a single solitary run.” He said trying to convince himself. He turned to Stanley.

“You sure the equipment’s working?”

“Uh, huh. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to go home and forget about this day.”

Stanley headed out back, followed by his crew as ducklings would their momma.

“Geez, you’d think these guys were going to a funeral or something. What I wouldn’t give for a day like theirs,” commented someone from C-shift.

Out in the parking lot, Stanley was set on ending the day with a pep talk. “Well, guys. Let’s not get too bummed about today. There was nothing we could do about it. These things happen, although they’ve never happened to me. In fact, I never thought I’d see a day no run would happen...."

EEEEEHHHHHOOOOOHHHHHAAAAAHHHHH

Captain Stanley held his breath in anticipation as did the rest of his crew while the dispatcher called out....

“Engine 8, Station 127, Truck 69, Station 51.... Structure fire. 2213 Stark. Two two one three stark. Time out, 0758”

Solemnly, A shift headed for their cars as the engine and squad screamed down the street, breaking the silence that had settled over the past 24 hours.

“Meet you at IHOP?” Johnny called out to Roy.

”Sure.”

Roy looked behind him to see where the second response came from. There stood Chet with a perfectly innocent grin on his face.

“What? You mean he wasn’t talking to me?” His smile quickly faded, in it’s place a very pouty frown that annoyed Johnny more than made him feel sorry for Chet. Not in the mood to argue or come up with any lengthy excuses, Johnny agreed to let Chet come along.

“Hell, why doesn’t everyone just come along.” John yelled extending the invitation. “We can drown our tears in pancake syrup.”

“All right! Can’t wait! One Rooty Tooty , fresh and fruity coming right up.” Chet clamored as he got in the Land Rover.

“Do we have to take him along?” Johnny said to Roy through the window.

Roy smiled. “I’ll see you guys at the IHOP.”