~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heading back to the stationhouse, Roy drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding as much of his shirt away from his body as possible.

Johnny, leaning casually against the door, took quick looks over at his partner whenever he felt safe enough not to get caught. He wanted to ask him why he'd been so quiet and grumpy all day, but this was not the best time to bring it up, not unless he wanted to run behind the squad the rest of the way back.

Pulling into the bay, Roy shut off the engine and slipped out the door, slamming it. Brushing by Chet, he started to unbutton his shirt, looking forward to a quick shower.

"What'd you do to Roy?" Chet moved to lean against the side of the squad, keeping an eye on both Johnny who had moved to stand beside him and Roy as he stomped in to the locker room.

"I didn't do anything to him." Johnny stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching Roy head off to change his clothes.

"Well, then, what's wrong with him? He almost ran me over when he backed the squad in."

"That wouldn't have been an accident, Chet." Johnny smirked, slipping his hands out of his pockets and drumming them on the hood of the squad before heading into the kitchen for some lunch.

"No, I mean it." Chet followed, snagging a plate and setting it on the table where the rest of the crew was making their lunches. "He's been moody all morning. Remember when I told that joke? He didn't even look up from the paper."

Johnny pulled his head out of the fridge and looked at Chet. "The reason he didn't look up or laugh was because it wasn't funny, Chet."

"No, I agree with Chet." Marco slapped another slice of pastrami on his sandwich, looking up at the men. "He was almost late this morning, and he's usually the first one in." Looking quickly at Captain Stanley, Marco amended his statement. "Okay, the second one in. He hasn't been himself today."

"Yeah, well, he hasn't said anything to me about it, but I'll figure it out before the end of shift." Pulling a foil wrapped bundle from the fridge, Johnny unfolded it. "Man, this is mouldy. Mouldy meatloaf." Tossing the package into the garbage, he stuck his head back in the fridge. "Only thing worse than mouldy meatloaf is meatloaf."

"Where's he now?" Cap reached over and snagged the last of the pastrami before Marco ate it all.

"I think he's taking a shower before changing his uniform." Looking at all the puzzled faces, Johnny held up his hand, stopping the questions before they could start. "Let's just say he had a bit of a —- puppy incident this morning, and leave it at that."

"Maybe we should try to cheer him up." Marco polished off his sandwich, licking mustard off his fingers. "Get his mind off things, you know?"

Nodding in agreement, they all turned to look at the door to the bay, hearing the soft squeak of rubber soles on cement.

Hair still damp from the shower, Roy walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee. Pouring himself a full cup, he drained half before refilling it. Grabbing a couple of cookies and some carrot sticks from a plate on the counter, he plopped down in a chair at the table.

"So, Roy," Cap asked, clearing his throat, "what have you been up to?"

"Not much." Reaching over the table, Roy piled some ham and salami on a piece of bread, not noticing the strange looks he was receiving.

"You got plans for the weekend?" Mike slid the mayonnaise in front of Roy before he could ask for it, Marco plunking a clean knife at the paramedic's right elbow.

Nodding his thanks to Marco, Roy looked over to Mike. "No, no plans. Joanne's taking the kids to a neighbour's birthday party tomorrow, so it'll be a quiet day."

Turning back to his lunch, Roy slathered mayo on the bread, as Chet stood behind him, throwing his arms in the air, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Uhm," Johnny searched the room, finally grabbing the newspaper from the trash. "Hey, is anybody going to go see that new movie?"

"What new movie?" Chet motioned to Marco, trying to get him to get into the topic.

"Oh -- what new movie -- Johnny?"

Chet rolled his eyes. Marco sounded like an actor badly flubbing his lines.

Flipping wildly through the paper, searching for the movie section, Johnny stalled. "You know, the new one everyone's talking about."

"Oh, that new movie!" Chet kicked the back of Mike's chair, hoping for some input.

Putting down his sandwich, Mike looked up at Johnny, who still hadn't found the right section of the paper. Sighing, he reached across the table for the pitcher of milk, turning to Chet and Johnny as he did so. "You mean 'Earthquake', with Charlton Heston?"

"Yes!" Johnny tore open the paper at the right section, seeing a large add for just that movie, as Chet gave Mike a hard clap on the back, almost sending the milk pitcher flying from his hand.

"'Earthquake', with Charlton Heston, and it's playing at the Dorchester, that old theatre not too far from Roy's place." Johnny smiled triumphantly, turning to the room. "Why don't we all go see the matinee tomorrow? We're all off, and since Joanne has the kids, Roy can go with us."

"How about it, Roy?" Marco squatted next to Roy's chair, hoping for the best. "Up to going to see a movie with us tomorrow?"

Everyone waited as Roy finished the last few bites of his sandwich, chasing it down with the remainder of his coffee. Piling the crumbs on his plate in a corner, he placed his cookies and carrot sticks on the cleaned part.

"More coffee, Roy?" Chet filled Roy's cup, hovering behind Marco, waiting for his answer.

"What about the movie?" Johnny leaned on the table, watching Roy carefully.

Picking up the coffee cup, Roy eyed his partner, and his partners' in crime. He knew they were just trying to cheer him up, even though it wasn't really helping, but he did give them points for trying. And the coffee refills weren't hurting either.

"What time's the matinee?"

Johnny, taken off guard by Roy's question, lost his place in the paper, and spent the next few minutes looking for the listing, while Chet, yet again, refilled Roy's cup.

"One thirty." Tossing the paper back into the trash, Johnny heaved a sigh of relief. At least he knew his partner wasn't really mad at him, and hopefully going to a movie would shake him out of whatever doldrums he had gotten himself in.

"You coming too, Cap?" Marco asked, as he started collecting plates and glasses for washing.

"Sorry guys, but a weekend at my home doesn't mean free time for me. My wife has a to-do list three pages long for my days off, and she has more authority than most of the battalion chiefs I know." Cap pushed himself away from the table, heading out to his office, adding sotto voce, "and twice as scary as any of them when she gets mad."

"Scarier than McConnike?" Chet whispered to Johnny. "What, he torched one of her hats, too?"

Johnny, drinking milk, snorted at Chet's comment, inhaling a large mouthful.

"How 'bout you, Mike?" Chet asked, pounding a hacking Johnny on the back.

"Sorry, guys." Closing the fridge, Mike headed out to polish the engine. "I saw it two weeks ago. Have fun, though."

"Well, that just means it's the four of us." Johnny waved off Chet's help, taking his glass and dumping it in the sink.

"We'll have to figure out what time to meet, that sort of thing." Marco frowned, watching his dishwater turn white.

Johnny rubbed his hands together in anticipation, clearing his throat. "We can meet at Roy's and head out from there. This ought to be fun."

Pulling out a chair next to Roy, Johnny set about making elaborate plans for the next afternoon, until he spotted Captain Stanley in the doorway, crooking a finger at him.

Pointing to himself, Johnny looked around, noting that at some point during the last ten minutes, Roy had moved off to sit on the couch, and Marco and Chet had finished doing the dishes and had started to debate on some of the postings on the bulletin board.

"Yeah, Cap?" Johnny entered the bay, where Cap had a mop and bucket ready for him, adorned with a small red bow on the mop handle.

"Happy mopping, John. You might want to start in the dorm, I think Henry had a —- what did you call it —- oh, yes, a puppy accident." Bobbing his head once, Cap pushed his hands into his pockets and headed back to his office, a definite bounce in his step.

Grumbling as he dragged the bucket to the dorm, Johnny hoped that it wasn't near his bed, or even near Roy's. He was in a bad enough mood all ready without Henry messing things up. Not that mopping was going to make his mood any better.

Looking up at the clock, Johnny wondered how long it would be until the next call. With his luck, not until he'd cleaned the whole station.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turning the final corner and spying the school to their left, Roy pulled the squad onto the playground, the engine right behind them.

The front right tire of the red station wagon sat midway up the first of three teeter-totters, a small plastic seat and metal chain of a nearby swing trailed from the front bumper only to disappear under the car. Further down the street, another car was pulled off the road, its driver's side door sitting ajar.

A small crowd of children had gathered at the large windows of the school, little hands and noses pressed against the glass. They watched as a young man and a police officer surveyed the damage. Another older man sat nearby on the first few rungs of the jungle gym, holding his arm and talking quietly to himself.

Grabbing their gear, Johnny and Roy dodged a reel line as Marco and Chet set up to spray down the pavement and grass around the car.

Setting the biophone and drug box down next to the man on the gym set, Roy nodded a quick hello to the police officer and took a quick look around the playground.

Officer Gava followed Roy's searching gaze, finally settling on the young man next to him. "There were no kids out here, thank God. Another hour and this place would've been filled with kids heading home."

"Yes, thank the Lord." The man on the gym set agreed, staring heavenward. The teenager nodded enthusiastically, until he noticed the officer's eyes still on his face and cringed.

Holding his injured arm out for Roy, the older man decided to start the introductions as Captain Stanley joined the group. "My, aren't we quite a sight. My name is Mark Morgan, and this young man has told me his name is Brian."

"Are you hurt anywhere else, Mr. Morgan?" Johnny popped open the trauma box and fished out a few bandages, noticing that the small gash had already stopped bleeding.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I have someone looking out for me, you know." The man smiled at the confused expression on Johnny's face, his dark, piercing eyes sparkling with delight. He lifted his good arm and pointed upward.

Officer Gava and Roy exchanged knowing looks as Gage's confusion grew.

"The Big Man. You know, God."

Johnny handed Roy the gauze and risked a quick look skyward.

"Yes, Mr. Morgan, we know who He is." Officer Gava sighed, grinning good-naturedly at the paramedics. He had had this conversation with the man earlier.

"So what exactly happened here?" Captain Stanley asked, watching Chet and Marco conjure up large splatters of mud while spraying the sandy area under the car.

"It seems our young friend Brian and his girlfriend were..." Officer Gava paused, looking for the right word, "'playing' in the car when he swerved in Mr. Morgan's path."

"Girlfriend?" Johnny searched the area, not seeing anyone other than the station crew. "Is she hurt? Where is she?"

Officer Gava levelled his eyes at the young man beside him. "She's not hurt. She's just in an---awkward position. She's still in her car." He pointed to the car pulled over further down the street.

Johnny closed the lid of the box at his feet, looking from the officer to Brian, perplexed.

"Don't worry, you'll understand when you get there." Officer Gava placed his hand on Brian's shoulder, leading the teenager over to the police car and keeping him nailed to a spot on the pavement with a stern look.

Seeing that Roy had Mr. Morgan well in hand, Johnny picked up the trauma box and headed for the baby blue Dodge Dart parked haphazardly on the gravel shoulder. The driver's door was open, but he couldn't see anybody moving around in the front seat.

"Is somebody going to help me here, or what?" A very miffed sounding feminine voice shot from the open door.

"How are you doing, Miss...?" Johnny knelt down next to the driver's door, the question fading from his lips as he looked inside.

A teen-aged girl lay across the front seat, her right arm pinned beneath her upper body. What Johnny found remarkable, was that she was facing the back of the seat and that most of her head, from her ears back, was wedged in the lower section of the steering wheel.

"Uhmm, miss...?"

Very pale blue eyes blazed at the flummoxed paramedic, honey blonde hair framing a pretty face deep crimson in colour, whether from embarrassment or pain, he didn't know.

"Jane, my name is Jane." The girl squirmed on the seat, trying to pull her head forward through the small semi-circle in the steering wheel.

"Whoa. You're going to hurt yourself. Just relax." Johnny placed his hands on the girl's arm and head, stopping her movements. "Are you hurt anywhere? Any pain?" He ran his hands along the edge of the steering wheel and the back of her neck, feeling for any injuries.

"I'm not hurt, I just can't get my head out!" Jane kicked the seat in frustration, wincing as Johnny brushed his hand against her ear. "Okay, maybe my ear, but that's all."

Johnny nodded and sat back on his heels, hearing the gravel crunch as others approached.

"John, what do you need?" Captain Stanley bent and looked over the paramedic's shoulder, his eyebrow rising slightly. Chet hovered in the background, bouncing on his toes trying to peer in through the back window.

"Cap, she's wedged in there pretty good. I'll see if we can get her out with some petroleum jelly. If that doesn't work, we might need to cut through the steering wheel."

"Right." Stanley nodded, pushing his helmet back further on his head. "Right," he muttered again, taking one last look at the girl as he headed to the engine for a hacksaw.

"Hey, Cap, is she stuck in the steering wheel?" Chet asked, moving around the back of the car to the passenger side.

Snagging the back of Chet's turnout coat, Captain Stanley steered the inquisitive fireman back to the truck to search for petroleum jelly, hoping to forestall too many embarrassing questions.

Johnny, silently thanking the Cap, twisted and looked back over his shoulder to where the boyfriend sat on the curb by the police car.

Brian caught Johnny's searching gaze and quickly looked away, suddenly finding the toes of his sneakers to be extremely interesting, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

"Uhmm, if you don't mind me asking...?" Johnny felt himself blushing as well as he turned and studied the position the girl was in, "how did you...?"

The girl covered her face with her left hand, groaning. "My mother is going to kill me." She took her hand away from her face and rolled her eyes. "You're a grown man, what do you think."

"I, ahh, I think it's none of my business." Johnny busied himself with the trauma box, grateful when Roy opened the passenger door, sticking his head inside the car.

"You need any help?" Roy barely blinked, taking in the position the girl was in and the faint flush on his partner's face.

"No, not right now." Johnny threw some clean tissues and bandages on the floor of the car, within easy reach and glanced up. "But, you better stick around, just in case."

"Cap said you needed petroleum jelly?" Chet leaned over Johnny and handed him the jar. He stared at the girl in the front seat, his brow furrowing. "How the heck did you end up like that?"

"Chet, go away." Johnny grabbed the jar and twisted the lid, smiling apologetically at the girl.

"I mean, she wasn't driving, right? How'd she end up in the steering wheel?" Chet stuck his head between Johnny and the doorframe, trying to figure out all the possibilities.

"Chet!" Johnny used his shoulder to force Chet out.

Moving back a few steps, Chet leaned with his hands on his knees, staring into the car. "I don't get it." Chet looked across at Roy, who carefully avoided his gaze, and down at the girl again, shaking his head.

Mr. Morgan, wondering what all the commotion was about, crossed the street and stood behind Roy, watching the proceedings.

"Here, give me some of that." Roy crawled in the passenger door, kneeling in the foot well as he dipped his hand in the petroleum jelly. He ducked under the steering wheel to spread the grease around the girl's right ear.

Johnny liberally slathered petroleum jelly around the girl's head, paying special attention to her ears, while Chet hunched behind him, mumbling to himself.

"If she was driving...no, no. She's facing the wrong way. But how the heck...?"

"Please don't get any of that stuff on the upholstery," Jane pleaded as a large glop of the grease slid across her check and over her nose. "This is my mom's car, and it's bad enough that I let Brian drive it, but if I mess it up, she'll kill me."

"Ah ha! So she wasn't driving!" Chet turned so that he faced the same way as the girl, moving his head this way and that, trying to figure out how she got stuck. "But what the heck is she doing facing the back seat? I don't get it!"

Captain Stanley moved up behind Chet, throwing an arm over his shoulder as he led him away from the car, whispering to him as they walked.

Johnny, trying to manoeuvre Jane's head carefully past the rim of the steering wheel, sighed in relief as Chet left. He worked one hand behind Jane's head, trying to push her through from behind, while he snaked one hand through the wheel to try to protect her ear.

"OHHHHH!"

Johnny's hand slipped, his forearm jamming against the wheel, hitting the horn as Chet's sudden and loud understanding of the situation became clear to all.

"Ahhhhhh!" Jane's head jerked forward at the horn's blare, freeing her from the steering wheel, but sending her face-first into the driver's seat, smearing petroleum jelly everywhere.

Johnny quickly reached over to steady the girl, his hands sending droplets of the grease across the car, splattering the dash and a good portion of Roy.

"Oh no!" Jane sat up, staring at the dark stains soaking into the light grey fabric. "My mom's car. I'm dead." She used her right arm, now free, to wipe away some of the gunk around her eyes as she gauged the damage.

Grabbing the tissues that Johnny handed to her, she proceeded to wipe at the seat, but finally threw them down, frustrated, as the stains just became bigger.

"Hey, take it easy." Johnny reached for the girl, sensing her increasing upset. "You're all right, and that's what's most important."

"You have to kill me now," she sighed and sat back, leaning her matted hair against the seat. She completely missed Johnny's aborted attempt to stop her from getting grease on the relatively clean back of the seat. "Somewhere in those boxes of yours, there has to be something that will kill me quickly, before my mother gets a hold of me. First, I have an accident with my brand new car this morning on El Dorado, now this."

Johnny, rifling through the box next to him for clean wipes, stopped and stared at the girl in disbelief. She was the reason he had been late that morning!

Looking to see if his partner caught that last piece of information, Johnny spotted Roy trying unsuccessfully to wipe off large blobs of petroleum jelly from his shirt, completely oblivious to the conversation.

Leaning into the car, Johnny handed Roy a bunch of clean tissues, careful not to get any of the grease on his own uniform.

"Now, now, don't you worry, dear, you're all right. There's nothing to worry about." Mr. Morgan, hovering behind Roy on the passenger side of the car, tried in his own way to help. "There is a higher power in this world that will take care of you."

Glancing over at Johnny, Jane rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know. It's called my mother."

Avoiding Mr. Morgan's intense stare, Johnny gave Jane a reassuring smile as he attempted to wipe off some of the petroleum jelly from the dashboard.

"No, no. I mean a Higher Power, a Supreme Being." Everyone could hear the importance he placed on those words.

Jane raised her arm, waggling her finger, and replied in all seriousness, "You've never met my mother."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roy walked into the lunchroom, doing up the last two buttons of his clean shirt. He glanced quickly at his partner and shook his head.

"What?" Johnny, having caught the look, sat up straighter in his chair, suddenly feeling guilty, but about what, he had no idea.

Tucking in the last stray shirttail, Roy poured himself a cup of coffee, busying himself by rinsing out the pot and throwing another batch on the stove to brew. He could feel his partner brooding behind him and smiled. It wasn't that he enjoyed bothering his partner, but it sometimes did help to brighten his mood. And after his trip into work this morning, and the fact he was down to one clean uniform shirt thanks to Gator the puppy and the incident with the petroleum jelly, Gage's brooding was almost as good a balm as fresh coffee.

"Oh, oh, Gage," Chet piped up from his position on the couch, where he was currently acting as Henry's pillow. "I knew you did something to Roy. What'd you do?"

"What? I didn't do anything to Roy!" Climbing out of his chair and moving to the counter, Johnny watched Roy calmly take a sip of his coffee as he moved by him to the table to take his vacated seat.

"Did I do something?" Johnny stood there, stunned, his hand pressed to his chest and a 'who-me' expression on his face. "What did I do?"

"Well, you were ten minutes late this morning."

Johnny turned to the door, where Captain Stanley leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Cap, I..." Johnny shook his head and pointed to Roy. "I mean, what did I do to Roy to get him mad at me?"

"I didn't say I was mad at you."

"What?" Johnny took a step towards the table.

"I didn't say I was mad at you." Setting down his cup, Roy brushed at some crumbs on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, why the look when you came in here just now?" Johnny waved absently toward the doorway. "Or the silent treatment since we got back from that last call? You didn't say two words to me the whole trip back. Heck, you've been like this all day." Johnny looked over at Chet, who simply shrugged.

"I'm not mad at you, really." Roy looked around the room. "I'm not mad at anybody."

Satisfied that his partner was sincere, Johnny relaxed back against the counter. "Then we're still on for the movie tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, I'm still going to the movie," Roy sighed. "I'm sorry if everyone's worried, but I've just been thinking about things, that's all." Roy eyed Johnny's clean shirt. Not one drop of the petroleum jelly had even come close to that shirt and he had been right next to the girl.

"Thinking about what?" Johnny pulled a chair up next to his partner, concerned at how solemn Roy was being.

Taking a long draw at his coffee, Roy thought how he was going to explain his mood. Rolling the cup between his palms, Roy shrugged and smiled at his partner.

"Just thinking that today is not a good day to be Roy's shirt." Scraping his chair back, Roy left the kitchen, leaving an even more confused Johnny in his wake. Heading for the locker room, he stopped by the cleaning closet, grabbing an armful of cleaners off the shelf. The way the day was going, he was going to need every uniform shirt he had. Setting the supplies down on the bathroom counter, he began reading the labels, trying to figure out which of them was the best at getting out puppy pee and petroleum jelly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnny sat quietly, trying not to move or make a sound. Ignoring the hundreds of small feathers floating in front of his face, kept aloft by the squad vents, he focused all his attention on the street, reading signs or licence plates, whatever he could see without turning his head. He knew that one wrong move could mean a blow out, and the last thing he wanted at eleven P.M., just before lights out, was a massive blow out.

Inhaling deeply in relief as he saw the station coming up on his right, he tensed, feeling one of the feathers lodge in his left nostril. Holding his breath, Johnny squeezed his right thigh as Roy backed the squad in, his need for oxygen not as great as his need to be inconspicuous.

Timing his sneeze with the slamming of Roy's door, Johnny sank into his seat, rubbing his nose and smiling.

Waiting for Roy to exit the squad before even reaching for the door handle had been a calculated move, but one that had paid off. Slowly pulling the handle, he slipped booted feet to the hard floor, wincing as the soft leather creaked against the cement, little bits of down sailing delicately to the ground around him.

Latching the door as quietly as he could, Johnny inched his way along the side of the engine, peeking around the back corner to the doors, following the trail of small colourful plumes drifting towards the locker room. Hearing the rush of water as the shower started, Johnny let out a long held breath, brushing away a stray feather and standing straighter.

"What's going on?"

"AHHHH!" Johnny jumped, banging into the side of the engine as he clutched at his heart, trying to keep it in his chest.

"Chet!" Placing his hands on his knees, Johnny tried to catch his breath while shooting the stocky fire fighter with imagined ammunition from his eyes. High calibre ammunition. "What are you doing?"

"I think the question here, Gage, is what are you doing? Sneaking around like some thief in the night. You're lucky I didn't sic Henry on you."

"To do what? Snore me to death? That dog couldn't defend its fleas, let alone the station." Johnny quickly darted a look at the locker room, catching a shadow as it moved in front of the window.

"So, what are you doing?" Chet started to move around the back of the engine, before Johnny yanked him back. "Is that Roy in there?"

"Yes, now keep your voice down." Pulling Chet with him, Johnny moved to the front of the truck, watching as the light in the dorm room flared momentarily as Roy moved from the lockers to his bed.

Nodding to himself, Johnny hoped that Roy would be asleep by the time he decided to go to bed. Ushering Chet ahead of him, he settled them in the kitchen, digging around in the ice box for the ice cream sandwich he had hidden in there earlier.

"So, you going to tell me why you're hiding from Roy, or do I call the LAPD?"

Closing the door, without his ice cream in hand, Johnny instead looted the cookie jar, setting himself down on a kitchen chair, facing an impatient, yet smug Chet Kelly.

"Do you remember the call we just went out on, the one at the glue factory?"

"Gage, I was here when the call came in, of course I remember it! Some guy was having a heart attack or something."

"Shhh, keep your voice down!" Getting up to check that no one was sneaking up on them, Johnny returned to his seat. "Anyway, some of the cleaning staff had been fooling around, bringing in junk they found all over the place, and they were playing tricks on each other, setting up booby traps."

"What's wrong with a little work place humour? I think it promotes camaraderie." Chet leaned back in his chair, brushing at his moustache for ice cream sandwich crumbs.

"Except when the guy who springs the trap is close to seventy and has already had one heart attack."

"Oh." Chet looked at Johnny, baffled. "What does this have to do with you sneaking around and avoiding Roy?"

"Well, you know the trouble Roy's had today with his uniform?"

"Yep."

"Yeah. Well, this time, and it was a total accident, Roy got himself all covered in glue, front and back." Johnny leaned towards Chet, lowering his voice. "This trap was on the third floor, and when the old man triggered it, it scared him so bad that he had an attack. When we got there, I guess the trap hadn't been fully sprung, yet."

"And it sprung right on Roy." Chet nodded his head, understanding the genius of the trap, a literal double whammy. "But why are you freaking out here? Roy got covered in a little bit of glue, so what? The old guy survived, right?"

"Yeah, I rode in with him to the hospital, he'll be fine."

"Then, what's the big deal? We get more stuff on us at a garbage fire."

Johnny made one last check of the doorway, moving his chair next to Chet as he leaned in close. "On our way out, they forgot to tell us about one of their other traps. The old man was pretty stable by then, so we decided to take a lot of the equipment down to the ambulance while the attendants tried to manoeuvre the gurney down the stairs. It was pretty tricky, and by then, most of the cleaning staff had taken off. So I followed the gurney down while Roy went ahead with the equipment."

Chet crossed his arms on the table, absorbed in the tale.

"Half way down, we hear a bang, like a firecracker going off or something. I yelled for Roy, thinking maybe something exploded, and he didn't answered me, so I got by the gurney and high tailed it down the stairs." Johnny stared hard at Chet. "The noise I heard was Roy accidentally setting off another booby trap."

Chet waited for Johnny to continue, finally throwing his hands in the air. "Well!"

Johnny's lips started to quirk as he thought about what he had seen, and tried to suppress a giggle as he related it to Chet.

"The last trap was set up near the door, and Roy walked right into its trip wire. Somebody put a big bag of coloured feathers, mostly chicken, I think, beside an air vent, and when Roy hit the wire, the bag exploded, sending feathers in every direction."

"And Roy, covered in glue from the last trap..."

Johnny nodded, his eyes misting as he tried to hold back his laughter. "He looked like something from one of those science fiction movies. Head to toe in blue and white and yellow feathers."

Chet leaned back in his chair, hand over his heart. "Whoever you are, oh great jokester, the Phantom salutes you."

"The worst part of the whole thing was Roy didn't say a word to me. He just loaded the stuff in the ambulance, and went and sat in the squad until we left. He didn't even go into Rampart. Dixie was a little worried that he didn't even come in to say hello, but I assured her, it was for the best." Johnny stifled a yawn, glancing at his watch.

"Don't worry, Johnny, I'm sure he's asleep by now. And he'll be over it by the morning."

"Yeah, I know." Johnny followed Chet out to the bay, slapping off the lights in the kitchen as he went by. "But Roy's never been this grumpy for so long, and I think he thinks the world's out to get him today."

Pausing outside the dorm, Chet looked back over his shoulder to Johnny. "Yeah, but in twenty minutes, today will be yesterday, and tomorrow's today can only get better."

Watching Chet push through the door, disappearing into the darkness, Johnny stood thinking about what Chet had just said. He knew it was profound, whatever it was, but he was having trouble figuring out why.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shrugging into turnout pants and coats, the sleepy men from Station 51 ran to their vehicles, racing out of the bay and into the streets at three A.M..

Pulling out his penlight and glancing at his map, Johnny followed the route with his finger. Brushing aside a yellow feather from the page, a puzzled expression replaced an aborted attempt at a yawn.

"Roy, this accident is right in the middle of the area closed off for construction. How are we supposed to get in if the highway's been closed off? Especially the engine?"

"You sure it's in the closed part?" Catching a grunted 'yeah' in response, Roy reached for the radio mic, never taking his eyes off the road.

"LA, this is Squad 51. Confirm accident location. How are we to approach scene?"

"Station 51, there is a police car waiting at the start of the construction zone. They will lead you in to the accident scene."

"10-4 LA."

"Well, that's service for you," Johnny huffed. "Where were they this morning when I was stuck in traffic and 10 minutes late?"

"They were doing other things, like writing speeding tickets," Roy muttered.

Johnny grunted, then grinned, reaching over to slap Roy on the arm. "So that's why you've been in such a grumpy mood all day! It's not the fact you've ruined every shirt you wore, but the fact you got caught with a lead foot."

Catching sight of flashing lights ahead of them, Roy slowed down to allow the police car to move ahead.

"Well, it's both. I spilled my coffee down my regular shirt when he pulled me over, and the day's gone downhill from there."

Snickering, Johnny tucked the map book back into the glovebox. "You going to tell Joanne about the ticket?"

"Eventually."

"Of course, if she were to call in the morning and ask me what was new with me, I'd have to tell her about my law-breaking partner..."

"Not if you don't want to find out what else I can do with my lead foot."

"Oh?" Johnny's smile slipped, as understanding dawned. "Oh."

A small upward twitch of his mouth was all Roy allowed as the squad and engine passed the pushed aside barriers onto the closed section of freeway. Yep, a brooding Gage was almost as good as coffee.


The accident scene looked, to the two paramedics, like a child had been playing happily with his toy trucks until he had abandoned them for bigger and better things. But these trucks weren't toys, and the way the silver tanker truck hung precariously over the edge of the overpass, its large metallic hind end over a tipped-over container truck laying directly underneath, it was a good thing bigger and better things had come along.

Passing the police car that had escorted them to the scene, Roy pulled the squad across the two right lanes of the road, leaving plenty of room for the engine to pull up near the tractor-trailer.

The harsh sodium street lights gave everything a strange sallow look, except for the dark patch leading up and onto the overpass, where the two trucks had battled for space on the narrow two lane roadway. Light standards littered the embankment, while more swayed from loosened bases on the bridge over the freeway, making ominous creaking noises.

Captain Stanley dropped to the ground from the engine, shouting orders to Chet and Marco as they ran lines to the container truck.

Spying the police officer, Stanley waved him over, looking for more information.

"What have we got here? Is that a gasoline tanker?" Stanley pointed up at the overpass, directing the officer's attention.

"It's a tanker, but I've talked to the driver, and all he's carrying is milk." The officer pointed to the tractor-trailer on its side in front of them, where the two paramedics were clambering up the undercarriage to get to the driver. "I have no idea what he's hauling. He's trapped in the cab, unconscious. I didn't see a cargo manifest, but it could be anywhere in there."

"Thanks, that's a great help." Captain Stanley jogged up to the truck, keeping an eye on Chet and Marco as they checked for ruptured gas lines and tanks.

"How is he?" Captain Stanley reached up to help Roy down from the driver's door.

"He's got a pretty bad concussion from hitting the steering wheel, and it looks like he broke his right arm when he hit the passenger door, but we'll know more once we get him out." Roy stepped around the Captain and grabbed a cervical collar, climbing up to the driver's door to hand it to Johnny.

"Hey, Cap!" Turning, Captain Stanley watched Chet jog up to the cab. "We didn't find any gas leaks. You need any help here?"

Hearing the sound of cracking glass, Cap turned just as Johnny smashed out the window from the inside. "No, you and Marco head up the embankment to check the tanker."

"Right."

Helping tamp down the glass and clear a way to get the driver out, Captain Stanley took a cursory look around the cab. "Hey, Johnny, did you see his manifest in there? We don't know what he's got in the back. I don't want to spray water on the thing if it's chemical."

"Sorry, Cap." Johnny helped Roy lay the man on the backboard, carrying him away from the hazard and over to the squad. "There's lots of papers in there though, so it could be one of those."

"Okay, I'll see what I can find." Digging out a flashlight from the engine, Hank Stanley crawled in through the empty windshield, picking up and discarding papers in his search.

"Captain?"

Turning, Captain Stanley saw the officer standing behind him, another man at his side.

"Just to let you know, we've got the road that leads to the overpass blocked about a mile back, so we're okay there. I heard Engine 8 was going to be coming up the overpass from that way, but I haven't seen 'em yet."

Easing back out of the cab empty handed, Cap stuffed the flashlight in his pocket. "Thanks. Who's this?" He gestured to the man beside the officer.

"This is the driver of the milk tanker."

"Well, have my two paramedics take a look at him. They're over by the squad." Cap turned the two men and gave them a slight push to get them started, turning the opposite way to head back to the engine.

Hearing the faint sounds of sirens, Captain Stanley looked up at the overpass, watching as Engine 8 slowly pulled close to the tanker. Marco and Chet had already started back down, getting only part way up the embankment before the second crew arrived to take their place.

"Engine 8, this is Engine 51, do you read?"

"We copy, Engine 51. Boy, what a mess, Hank. Did you do this on purpose to get me out of bed in the middle of my beauty sleep?"

Cap smiled at the man on the other end of the mic. "Brawley, I know how much beauty sleep you need, so this isn't doing either of us any favours. Can you see the side of the container truck from up there? We can't find a cargo manifest in the rig. See if anything's written on the side for me, will ya?"

"Sure thing, Hank. Give me a sec."

Staring up at the overpass, Hank Stanley could see a meaty face, cropped by a slivery mass of hair peer over the railing, giving a quick wave at the engine below before disappearing.

"Sorry, Hank, can't see a thing, but there's a hole as big as a Maverick in the side. It looks torn up pretty good, so watch yourselves."

Cap looked over to the squad and his paramedics, where the second driver still lay unconscious, before answering. "Thanks, Brawley, we'll be careful down here." He clicked the mic off, then smiled and keyed it open again. "I see you're still not wearing your helmet, Brawley. You're going to get into hot water one of these days if a battalion chief ever sees you."

"Yeah, well, those damn tin hats give me a headache. Besides, I'm not the one who has McConnike after him."

Throwing the mic on the seat, Captain Stanley just smiled. He could hear Brawley's laughter all the way down on the freeway, over the sounds of both engines. The man was a menace, and the best damn back up you could have.

"Chet, Marco, see if you can get the back doors open on that thing. I want to know what the heck he's got in there."

"Aye, Cap." The two fire fighters moved to the back of the container, trying to unlatch the doors. After a few forceful tugs and kicks, the doors were still jammed shut.

"I'll get the prybar and see if we can force it open." Marco jogged back to the engine, leaving Chet by the truck.

A high pitched screeching sound split the night air, and everyone above and below the overpass turned to see one of the light standards on the overpass fold over suddenly, crashing into the next pole in the line.

The second pole, all ready weakened from the accident, swayed precariously for a few seconds, then toppled over, hitting the back of the tanker truck with a loud bang before it fell from the overpass to land at the foot of the truck.

Chet watched as the first pole knocked into the second. Correctly guessing the trajectory of the second pole, he ran as fast as he could, sliding to a halt by Captain Stanley as the second standard landed where he had been moments before.

"Gee, Kelly," Cap reached up and tapped Chet's helmet, "I never knew you could run so fast."

"Well, Cap," Chet, still panting, pointed to the broken light on the pavement, "only when I bet my light on it."

Captain Hank Stanley looked down at Chet and groaned. "That one was bad, even for you."

"Hey, I'm a little winded here, you should give a guy a couple of minutes before you expect a good pun."

Shaking his head, Cap spotted Marco standing nearby with the prybar and waved him over. He cast an appraising eye over the roadway above, making sure there were no other light standards ready to fall before turning to his men. "How about giving those doors another try?"

"Sure, Cap. No problem." Chet headed back to the truck, Marco close behind him.

Several feet from the truck, prybar all ready hoisted in the air, Marco and Chet froze as they heard a deep groaning noise from above. Looking up, they watched as the sky above their heads turned a solid white. As they took a few stumbling steps back, large, opaque droplets suddenly pelted them from above. Hunching their shoulders against the downpour, Chet and Marco turned and raced for the engine.

Engine 8's crew above burst into action, scattering as the some of the valves on the rear of the tanker, damaged by the light standard, started to burst. Each valve sent high pressure arcs of milk across the night, liberally soaking the men and equipment below, before settling down to three steady streams that emptied right into the hole on the side of the container truck below.

"Chet, Marco, man the line!" Captain Stanley watched as the milk poured into the side of the truck, waiting for some tell tale sign of a hazardous material leak. Above, the team from Engine 8 stood ready, hoses aimed at the truck below.

"Cap, what's that?" Chet moved closer to the Stanley, the nozzle of the firehose pointed at the rear doors of the tractor-trailer.

A strange hissing noise issued from the truck, as milk started to pour out of the seams of the rear doors.

"Hey, Hank, it's Brawley. You read me?"

Captain Stanley reached for his handi talkie.

"Right here, Brawley. What can you see from up there?"

"Well, Hank, can't see too much except this damn milk, but we're hearing a strange crackling noise coming out of that truck. What are you seeing or hearing?"

Hank listened, and he thought he heard a slight crackle, but to him, it was closer to a snapping noise.

"I hear something too, Brawley, but I think it's more a snapping sound."

Chet looked over his shoulder to Marco, who shrugged. He personally thought it was going 'pop'.

"Ummm, Cap?" Chet moved closer to the truck, Marco trailing close behind. "I have a feeling you're both right."

Moving up to where Chet was standing, Captain Stanley watched as thousands of gallons of milk washed over their boots. "What do you mean we're both right?"

"Well, Captain Brawley thinks it sounds like a crackling noise, you think it's a snapping noise, and Marco and I think it's popping." Chet looked at his Captain's face, hoping it would dawn on him what was in the truck.

"I give up, Chet. What do you think is in the truck?" Captain Stanley turned to look at the back of the truck as Chet pointed to the rear doors.

The doors were bulging under the pressure, the locking mechanism straining to keep the doors together, and small, yellow granules were being forced out with the milk.

"'Snap, crackle, pop' Cap. I think he's hauling cereal. Rice Crispies to be exact."

Hank Stanley shook his head, and finally burst out laughing as the rear finally burst open, spewing cardboard boxes sopping wet, some of the brown cardboard falling away to reveal even wetter blue boxes of cereal.

"Chet, you've made my night." Clapping him on the back, Captain Stanley left the fireman and hefted his handi talkie to spread his findings to the crew on the upper road.

Johnny and Roy, carefully placing the unconscious driver on a gurney from the newly arrived ambulance, looked up as a loud bray of laughter rang out from the overpass. They could just make out a silver-framed head shaking in extreme mirth as it looked over the railing.

"What's that all about?" Johnny hitched his thumb back over his shoulder at the man laughing above them.

"Don't know." Roy hopped into the back of the ambulance, shaking milk out of his shoes and wringing it out of the hem of his shirt as the gurney was pushed in beside him. He could feel the cold trail of the milk as it ran down the back of his neck to pool in the seat of his pants, soaking the seat beneath him. Brushing his hands across the front of another ruined shirt, Roy took a quick look outside at the strangely giddy engine crews. "Whatever it is, it must be good."

"If I find out, I'll let you know." Johnny helped the second driver onto the seat beside Roy, closing the doors and giving them a quick thump before the ambulance pulled away.

Heading back and loading the equipment into the compartments of the squad, trying to get as much of the milk out of them as he could, Johnny motioned the police officer over.

"Do you have any idea what everyone is laughing about?"

"No, no I don't." The police officer looked at the river of milk and little yellow kernels flowing along the edge of the road, shaking his head.

"What's the matter?" Johnny closed up the squad and turned to the officer as he tossed Roy's helmet in the passenger seat.

"This is the weirdest thing I've seen since I've been on duty, and you know what caused it all?" The officer pulled off his hat, letting it dangle from the tip of his finger as milk dripped off its rim.

Johnny shook his head no, waiting for an answer. He could see the lights of another police car in the distance as it passed the departing ambulance, leading a large crane into the accident scene.

"The tanker truck driver told me, all this," the officer swept his hand over the whole crazy scene, "is because some young girl in a light blue Dodge Dart cut him off and almost forced him off the road.

Johnny shook his head as his mind digested this new piece of information. 'A baby blue Dodge Dart'. He mulled it over as he started the squad, shaking his head 'no' at the idea. He shifted the squad into drive, and nodding his head 'yes', he pulled onto the undamaged blacktop five minutes later.

After all, he figured, she wrecked her own car that morning, ruining any chance he had of being on time for the shift, and the accident with the Dodge Dart was, well, memorable. It may have been a total coincidence, but Johnny figured Jane might not have taken the car home and shown her mother the damage.

Remembering Mr. Morgan's words, Johnny pulled into Rampart and realized that someone might just be looking out for the girl, but so far, they weren't doing a very good job.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How about that spot?" Johnny leaned over the back of the seat, shoving his arm between Chet and Marco, pointing to an empty parking spot on the right hand side of the road.

"You've got to be kidding." Chet swatted Johnny's arm out of the way, as he reached for the gearshift. "That's right in front of a bar. I don't want some drunk coming out and throwing up all over my car."

"Chet, it's not even two o'clock in the afternoon, there aren't any drunks." Johnny watched, pained, as yet another parking spot went by because it didn't meet with Chet's approval.

"Gage, there's always drunks. Just shut up and look for a good spot."

Mumbling that they were all good spots, Johnny slid noisily against the back seat next to Roy. Catching the amused glance Roy tossed his way, Johnny rolled his eyes, getting a quick shrug in return.

Marco, quiet in the front seat, continued to look out the side window, watching as the movie theatre went by for the fourth time.

They had been circling the blocks around the Dorchester Theatre for the last fifteen minutes, passing ten available parking spots Chet had deemed unusable, and a fairly empty five story parking garage right next to the theatre that Chet had refused to use.

"What's wrong with the parking garage again?" Johnny leaned forward, so he spoke directly into Chet's ear.

"I am not paying an arm and a leg to park in a garage, when you can park on the street for next to nothing." Chet downshifted as he turned another corner; a cloud of black smoke erupting from the tailpipe as the car lunged and backfired.

Grabbing onto Chet's front seat headrest, Johnny stopped himself from pitching forward between the seats, banging his forehead against the back of the seat.

"Ow!" Johnny smacked the back of Chet's head and reached for the door handle. "That's it! Let me out and I'll wait for you at the theatre."

"Gee, Gage, calm down, we're here." Chet swung the car around in a lazy U-turn, pulling into a spot on the opposite side of the road.

"Man, this is the same parking spot Marco pointed out five minutes ago." Johnny climbed out of the back seat, rubbing the small red mark on his forehead, grousing at no one in particular. He joined Roy and Marco on the sidewalk, waiting as Chet circled the car, making sure that all the doors were locked.

"Actually, Johnny, I wanted the one three cars back," Marco pointed to the spot, thirty feet behind them, "but Chet said it was right next to the alleyway." Looking at Chet as he plugged a few coins in the meter, Marco scratched his head. "Chet, what was wrong with that one?"

"Police chases, Marco." Chet stuck his keys in his jeans' pocket and joined the trio. "You always see the bad guys in movies cut through an alley when the cops chase 'em, and they always hit the car that's parked at the end. So, no alley spots."

"Right." Marco nodded and looked at his watch. "Well, I think we'll miss the coming attractions, but we shouldn't miss too much of the movie."

The four firemen fell into step, turning right at the corner and heading for the theatre a half block in front of them.

"What the..." Chet mumbled, drawing everyone's attention.

"What?" Johnny stood tapping his foot in front of the theatre, impatient at the delay.

"Hey, check this out guys." Chet stepped up to a large plate glass window of an exotic pet store, Johnny, Roy and Marco drawing up on either side of him.

In an aquarium to the left of the display, shaded by a partially drawn screen, a massive python lay curled upon itself, the thickest part of its body more than twenty inches around. In a display to its right, a terrarium full of crickets stood next to a small cage where two small lizards lay sunning themselves.

"What's so exotic about crickets?" Marco looked further into the store, seeing aquariums full of piranha and large feathery fish, then back at the terrarium.

"They're not advertising the crickets, Marco." Roy leaned close to the window, staring into the terrarium. "Look closer."

Marco bent, pressing his nose close to the glass as he peered into the container. It was filled with soil and some plants, and a few dead branches that stuck out of the dirt, reaching almost to the top of the screen covered opening. Leaning forward even more, his nose squashed against the glass, Marco focused on a big black shape sitting just above the plants on a small branch. Eight tiny black eyes stared back at him.

"Oh." Straightening, Marco moved back so Johnny could get a closer look. "I almost feel sorry for the crickets. I don't think they know they're lunch."

"Man," Johnny pulled away from the window when he finally spotted the tarantula in the terrarium, giving a quick shudder. "Why would anyone want a spider for a pet?"

"Why would anyone want to date you? Those are the unanswered mysteries of the universe, Gage." Chet took a quick look back in the store, spotting two parrots and a cockatoo perched near the checkout counter. The colourful feathers brought something else to mind, and Chet smirked.

"Hey, guys. Why don't we go out for something to eat after the movie?" Chet fell a few steps behind the rest of the guys, smiling. "I don't know why, but I have this great big hankering for chicken. What about it, Gage, feel up for some chicken? You won't even have to pluck it."

Roy turned to Johnny, shaking his head at him as he walked into the theatre. He knew Johnny wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut about that rescue. He had been picking chicken feathers out of the squad right up until the next shift had shown up, and he knew he still hadn't gotten half of them.

"I hear there's a place around here that makes chicken so good, it sticks to your ribs." Chet rubbed his belly in emphasis. "Mmmmm, mmmmm, chicken."

Marco looked from Chet, to Johnny, to Roy, wondering why everyone was shooting everyone else dirty looks. He knew he was missing a piece of the puzzle, but darn it, chicken did sound good. He'd have to bring it up again after the movie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ow! You stepped on my foot." Johnny balanced his popcorn and drink on his left knee, as he reached down to rub his toes.

"Sorry." Roy picked his own drink off of the floor and sat back down in his seat. He reached to his left and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the huge tub balanced on the arm between he and Marco, spilling kernels down the front of his shirt.

"I thought this movie was supposed to be about an earthquake? It's been almost an hour, and I haven't seen any shaking or shimmying going on —- well, except that really cute French chick." Chet smirked and pushed Johnny's arm off of his armrest, trying to get comfortable. "Can't they just hurry up and get to it all ready, before my butt falls asleep?"

"Shhhhhh!" A rain of popcorn fell on the four from the balcony above.

Brushing the latest volley of butter-laden snacks from his hair, Roy glared at Johnny and Chet. Since the movie had started, they had been acting like hyperactive ten year olds, constantly fighting or making comments about the movie. He had less trouble with his own kids, hell - he'd had less trouble with his son's little league team.

"That's my popcorn." Johnny snatched the container back from Chet, sending more kernels over Roy. "Sorry, Roy." Reaching over, Johnny plucked at some of the popcorn he had spilled on Roy, popping them in his mouth.

"Come on, you've got enough popcorn for three people!" Chet grabbed the tub back from Johnny as yet another rain of snack food fell from above.

"Quiet down there!" a young-sounding voice shouted, followed by another handful of food.

Watching the tidbits fall into the popcorn tub, Chet elbowed Johnny in the ribs. "Hey, Johnny, keep talking!" Chet plucked three small colourful candies from the popcorn. "Look, they're throwing Good 'N Plenties."

"Hey, give me a couple, I love liquorice!" Marco stuck his hand in front of Roy, waiting for Johnny to toss a few his way.

Sinking further into his seat, Roy took a quick look around the theatre and scowled. He wondered why the four of them were huddled together when the theatre was empty. Except for the two in the balcony, he amended as more candy hit him on the head.

"We should've gone to one of those big new movie houses where they put that Sensurround in," Chet mused as he squirmed in his chair, "not this dump. No wonder no one else is here."

"I heard about that." Johnny sat on the edge of his seat, his hand buried down the front of his shirt, fishing for more of the hard covered liquorice candy. "I hear that it actually feels like you're having an earthquake when it happens in the movie. Man, technology is great." Pulling his hand from his shirt, Johnny held up four more colourful pieces. "YES!"

"You can keep those." Chet held his hands outstretched, hoping his last comment was loud enough to merit more candy. When a single kernel of popcorn floated down from above, Chet snorted and tossed it away. "Gees, they're getting stingy."

"Look!" Marco pointed to the screen, where no one's attention had been for the last few minutes. "I think it's starting."

Everyone's eyes flew to the screen, watching as the quake started to shake the movie-land LA.

"That ramp's not going to hold the bike!" Chet watched, munching on popcorn, as the stunt motorcyclist made a run at the apparatus, the ground shaking the flimsy track.

Roy, far too annoyed to enjoy the movie, sat up a little straighter as he felt a faint vibration in the ill-padded seat.

"Johnny?" Roy grabbed Johnny's arm to get his attention. "I thought you said this theatre didn't have that Sensurround system."

"It doesn't, why?" Johnny glanced back and forth between the screen and Roy, wondering what was so important.

Roy ignored Johnny's question, noticing the faint vibration grow under him, making him feel queasy. The low rumble of the earthquake on screen was soon eclipsed by the booming sound of the real thing.

"Hey, is this what I think it is?" Chet braced himself against the chair-back in front of him, trying to stand as small cracks sprouted and grew in the concrete at his feet.

The screech of metal assaulted their ears as the steel underpinnings of the theatre seats tore loose, sending rows of seats twisting into the air.

Holding onto each other for support, Marco and Roy inched their way to the aisle, bruising ribs and shins as they were thrown forcefully into the hard chairs on either side of them. The balcony above them twisted and writhed, the lumber screaming as nails popped and supports struggled. Turning once they reached the relative safety of the aisle a few feet away from the overhang, they then looked back for their two companions in the flickering movie light.

Johnny was on his knees between the seats, Chet tugging on his right arm, helping him get to his feet. Taking a few halting steps as Chet followed close behind, hand still planted firmly on his arm, Johnny focused on the end of the row where Roy and Marco shouted at them to hurry.

"Damn!" Johnny grabbed his shin as the seat to his right suddenly lurched backwards, knocking into his leg. Stepping over the chair back, his head shot up as he heard the sharp crack of wood from above.

The railing above Roy and Marco snapped from its anchor on the wall and a large section swung out into the air, directly above the men.

"Watch out!"

Marco and Roy looked up at Johnny's shout, dancing back a few feet as part of the balcony railing crashed down.

The ground lurching violently under their feet, Johnny and Chet crawled over the backs of the seats, moving a few rows further away from the balcony. Throwing themselves over another set of seats, Chet suddenly grabbed the collar of Johnny's shirt, stopping his lunge into the next space.

"What?" Johnny shook off the hand, wiping some of the dirt and sweat from his face as he followed Chet's gaze.

Five sets of seats suddenly buckled and rose high in the air a few rows in front of them, showering them with small chunks of concrete. Seconds later, the mound started to crumble and disappear from sight as half of the uprooted rows sunk into the floor.

"Come on, let's get out of here!" Johnny reached out to steady Chet as they stumbled down the row of seats. Plaster and mouldings showered down around them as the ceiling cracked under the constant movement.