"Golf?"
"Yeah, golf!" John Gage's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.
His partner, Roy DeSoto, rolled his eyes and dropped into a chair at the
squad room table. "He's been talking about this ever since we treated that
heart attack victim on the golf course last week," he muttered to no one
in particular.
"Yeah, I noticed that," Chet said. "You'd better be careful, Gage--you don't
wanna end up on the wrong end of a five iron."
"I think it's gonna be fun!" Johnny's frown was only momentary. "I mean,
I've gone mini-golfing a lot, and there's nothing to it."
Roy shook his head in amusement. Johnny's schemes got more hare-brained every
week. "Miniature golf is just putting, Johnny," he argued amiably. "Out on
a golf course you're talking a whole different kind of game."
"I know that, Roy," Johnny agreed, in his I'm-not-an-idiot-you-know voice.
"But how much harder can it be?"
"A lot."
Mike Stoker nodded agreement with Roy. "I know lots of people who golf,"
he said. "They spend as much time cursing their scores as they do extolling
the virtues of the game."
"Well, I'd be good at it," Johnny grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I
wouldn't have anything to complain about."
"I think you oughta try it, Johnny," said Marco Lopez, ignoring the pleading
look Roy threw at him. "After all, you'll never know if you like it unless
you give it a go."
Johnny smiled and nodded at the other firefighter. "Thanks, Marco. At least
one person has an open mind here."
"And at least one has an empty head," muttered Chet.
Johnny shot him a look that was interrupted by the klaxons. He and Roy jumped
up to handle their first call of the day.
**********
"So, how did your first golf lesson go?" Roy asked a few days later.
"Hm?" Johnny jotted the time in the log and glanced up as the squad backed
into the bay.
Roy repeated the question.
"Oh!" Johnny's face creased into a grin. "Great! You know, Roy, you really
oughta think about taking up golf--I think you'd really like it."
Roy shook his head. "Not interested."
"Well, why not?" Johnny's voice began to take on that petulant tone that
made Roy sigh. This was going to be a long afternoon. He was sorry he'd
asked.
Roy stepped out of the cab. "I don't want to learn how to play golf. I've
always thought it was a pretty boring game, anyway."
"Boring?" Johnny scrambled out of the truck and around the front after his
partner. "Boring? How can you say golf is boring?"
"Easy. I just did."
Johnny followed Roy into the squad room and over to the coffee pot, where
Roy poured a cup, which Johnny took from him. Roy stared at his empty hand
a second, then reached for another cup.
"Golf is not boring."
"I've never been interested in it. I'm not even that crazy about miniature
golf."
"How could you not be interested in golf? Everybody's interested in golf."
"Not me."
"Give it a rest, Gage," muttered Chet from behind the newspaper. "You're
never gonna convince Roy to take up golf."
"I'm not tryin' to convince him to take up golf," argued Johnny. "I'm just
tryin' to tell him it's not a boring game."
“Right, it’s a fascinating pastime," murmured Chet, still hidden
by newsprint. "Ranks right up there with hanging hose.”
"Hey, Roy, John?" Captain Stanley poked his head through the squad room door.
"Yeah, Cap?" John looked up agreeably, but Roy's look was one of absolute
relief. A chance to shut Gage up for a minute or two.
"If I can drag you away from your debate, the floors need swabbing and the
latrine is waiting." He smiled impishly and disappeared.
Roy sighed, inwardly grateful to the Cap for his intrusion on the conversation,
even if it did mean work detail. At least the latrine would be quiet. He
finished his coffee, rinsed the cup in the sink and followed Johnny into
the bay.
Behind them, Chet hid a smile.
**********
"Golf is not a boring game," Johnny was muttering under his breath as he
reached for the knob on the supply room door. Roy grinned as he passed him.
Yes, the latrine was going to be nice and quiet.
Johnny's sudden bellow echoed throughout the station. Roy crossed the three
steps to Johnny's side as Mike Stoker jumped down from where he'd been inspecting
the hose bed.
"Johnny!" Roy yelled.
"Did you see that?" Stoker cried, dashing to the other side and grabbing
Johnny's arm to hold him up.
Hank Stanley dashed from his office when he heard the commotion to find Mike
and Roy bending over a distraught John Gage, who in turn was bent nearly
in two, holding his hands over his right eye and cursing fluently.
"Johnny, let me see it!" ordered Roy. "Mike, get some ice, would you?"
Stoker trotted off to the kitchen, meeting Marco Lopez at the doorway.
"What happened?" Stanley demanded as Stoker rushed by.
"Johnny just got hit in the eye with a golf ball," called Mike over his shoulder,
pulling a dishtowel from a drawer and opening the freezer.
At the table behind him, Chet Kelly sat up, eyes wide. "What?"
But, Mike was already on his way back out to the truck bay.
Roy had Johnny on the ground now, but the younger man was still fighting
treatment, albeit less strenuously than he had been a minute or two ago.
His language was no less prolific, though, and a stream of vitriolic invectives
spewed forth continuously.
"Let Roy look at it, John." Cap leaned forward, hands on knees, to see the
damage.
"Here, Roy," Stoker said, offering the cloth-wrapped ice.
Roy took the towel with a muttered "Thanks" and leaned once more over his
partner. "Johnny, here, let's put some ice on it."
Johnny reluctantly pulled his hand from his face and heard a collective gasp
go up among his colleagues.
"Dios mio!" cried Marco.
The right side of Johnny's face was covered with blood. A small, deep gash
ran along the upper edge of his eyelid and into the brow, and the point of
an impact was a rapidly swelling red mark just below. Roy set the towel carefully
over the injury.
"We need to get him to the hospital," muttered Stanley, turning and making
a bee line for the dispatch unit. "LA, this is Station 51. We have a Code
I at our location. I have a paramedic down with an eye injury."
"No ambulance, Cap," called Roy. "I'm gonna take him in the squad--it'll
be faster."
"LA, advise Rampart Emergency that the victim is on his way in with Squad
51."
"Station 51, 10-4." Sam always sounded so impersonal. Stanley jerked the
microphone on its hook and went back to the others.
"Marco, get me the trauma box, would you?"
"How's he doing, Roy?" Cap's voice was quiet.
"He's not doing too great, Cap!" Johnny said from where he lay on the
floor.
Roy grimaced and turned back to Cap as Marco set the trauma kit on the floor.
"I don't know, Cap. There could be some serious injury to that eye." He opened
the box and pulled out a couple of bandages and some tape. "I need to cover
your other eye, Johnny. Mike, can you get his head up a little?" Stoker lifted
Johnny's head carefully into his lap. "Just relax, partner, okay?" Roy placed
the bandage gently across Johnny's left eye, quickly taping it in place.
"Just keep that ice on the other eye, all right?" He tossed the supplies
back in the box, closed it, and asked Marco to put it back.
Mike and Roy got Johnny on his feet, but the dark-haired paramedic was definitely
having trouble staying there as they maneuvered him to the passenger side
of the squad.
"Marco, you go with Roy and give him a hand with Johnny," Stanley ordered.
Marco didn't need to be told twice. He climbed in after Johnny and slammed
the door as Roy started the engine. Mike trotted around the front of the
squad to open the bay door for him, and seconds later the trio was on their
way, sirens blaring mightily in the late afternoon sunshine.
"All right, what the hell happened here?" demanded Stanley.
Mike shook his head. "Johnny opened the closet door," he explained, gesturing
at the still open door, "and a golf ball shot out. Hit him smack in the eye."
He shuddered. "That had to hurt!"
"A golf ball!" muttered the Cap, walking over to the offending closet. Glancing
down, he noticed the golf ball that had hit his crewman, and bent down to
retrieve it from where it had rolled after bouncing off Johnny's head. He
stopped when he realized that a good portion of Johnny's blood was tainting
the tiny white dimples. He looked over at Stoker and grimaced, then stood
and peered into the depths of the storage room. Then, "Kelly!" he yelled,
pulling forth a small catapult from the bucket in there and displaying it
with disgust to his engineer.
Mike stared at it in horror.
"I never meant for him to get hurt, Cap." Chet's voice was very small.
Stoker backed up a step or two. He had never seen the Cap so furious.
"In my office. Now." The Cap's voice was very low.
**********
Johnny's hands cradled his head in his lap, the right firmly holding the
now melting ice against his throbbing eye. The swearing had finally stopped,
replaced by an almost continuous, soft moaning.
"We're almost there," Roy tried, not sure if Johnny even heard him. "Marco,
see if you can lean him back, keep his head up."
"God," muttered the injured paramedic, "what the hell hit me?" He drew in
a shaky breath, trying to still the trembling that was supplanting the initial
flow of adrenaline. Tears flowed slowly from his uninjured left eye, reflex
watering that he could feel dampening the bandage that covered it.
"Roy, he's shaking like a leaf," Marco said, his left arm firmly planted
across Johnny's shoulders as he pulled him upright.
Roy made a face but said nothing. He was having a hard time keeping himself
from shaking.
"Roy, it hurts....it really hurts..."
"I know, Junior, I know." He swung into the long drive that led to Rampart's
Emergency center, speeding up the stretch toward the ambulance bay.
Johnny was beginning to think he was going to pass out when the squad finally
squealed to a halt. Alerted by dispatch, Joe Early was waiting for them at
the entrance. Marco led Johnny, stumbling, to the gurney Joe had procured,
and settled him onto it carefully. Johnny lay back thankfully, one leg propped
up and the other stretched out, his hand still gripping the towel. The pain
was as fierce as ever, but being at the hospital made it somehow bearable.
"Let's take him into One," Joe ordered.
Johnny, eyes closed, felt the gurney rolling along. The sudden change in
position, coupled with the dizziness the motion caused, nauseated him, and
Johnny became instantly and violently ill. Roy, barely able to lift and turn
him so he wouldn't choke, was unable to move out of the way fast enough.
"Sorry," Johnny mumbled, an uncanny feeling telling him whom he had caught.
"It's all right," Roy assured him as they wheeled him into the treatment
room.
They swung him up onto the examining table, and Joe leaned over. "Okay, let's
see what we have here." He gently removed Johnny's hand from the towel and
lifted it away. He gave a low whistle and turned to Roy.
"What happened?"
"He got hit with a golf ball."
"Is that what hit me?" demanded Johnny. "A golf ball? Where the hell did
a golf ball come from?"
Joe waited for Roy's response as he once more bent over the patient and gently
palpitated the area. John's eye was already swollen almost completely shut
by now, and blood still trickled from the cut. He gasped when Joe touched
his face, pulling slightly away. "Sorry, Johnny," Joe offered, but he continued
his exploration.
"It came out of the closet," Roy answered.
Marco's mouth dropped open.
"Chet," muttered Johnny disgustedly.
"Yep." Roy sounded angry.
Joe turned to Carol, who had met them in the examining room. "Let's get x-ray
down here. I don't like the look of that eye socket. Then, call Stan Wilson
up in Ophthalmology and ask him to come down." He turned back to Johnny,
who appeared to be staring up at the overhead lights.
"Doc, you think you could do something about those?" He gestured weakly up.
Smiling, Joe stepped to the wall and threw a switch. The lights immediately
dimmed. "Better?"
"Much. Thanks."
The door opened and the x-ray technician wheeled in his machine. Johnny stoically
tolerated the man's gentle adjustments, the pain having finally settled into
a dull, continuous throbbing localized around the right side of his face.
"I'll send the films down right away," the tech assured Joe as he left a
few minutes later.
"You're going to have one hell of a headache," Joe told Johnny.
"Already do," he complained.
Joe looked up. "Carol, how about if we find our friend here some codeine?"
He turned to Roy and Marco, indicating with his head that they should come
out into the hall with him. "I'll be right back, Johnny."
In the hall, Roy and Marco regarded the doctor worriedly. "We'll know soon
enough if there are any broken bones," Joe said. "Stan can give us a better
idea about the eye itself. That's not my area of expertise." He looked curiously
from one to the other. "What's this about the golf ball coming out of the
closet?"
Roy sighed. "Chet Kelly's been on his practical joke kick again. There must
have been something rigged in there that shot the ball at Johnny as he opened
the door." He shook his head in resignation and looked up at Marco.
"I don't think Cap's gonna have any choice but to suspend him for this one,"
Marco said.
Roy nodded agreement. "He'll have to."
"Listen, why don't you guys call it in? At the very least, I'm going to keep
Johnny overnight."
They turned as Joe's name was called. "Dr. Wilson is here," Carol was calling
from the treatment room.
"We'll be in the lounge," Roy told Joe, who nodded and disappeared into the
exam room behind the nurse.
Forty-five minutes and two phone calls later, Roy and Marco were staring
at cold coffee and silently trying to figure out what would make Chet pull
such a stupid, dangerous stunt.
"He's done some goofy things," said Marco, "but never anything like this."
Roy was still too angry to comment.
The door opened and Carol poked her head in. "Hey, guys, Dr. Early wants
you back in Treatment One. They're getting ready to send Johnny upstairs."
"How is he?" Roy asked, rising easily and following her out the door, Marco
on his heels.
"He's a little groggy right now, but I think he's feeling better," she
smiled.
They pushed through the door and found Johnny being transferred onto a gurney
in preparation for being removed to a room. A large white bandage covered
his right eye and a substantial portion of his forehead. "Hey, guys," he
mumbled, waving fingers lethargically in their direction.
Roy turned questioningly to Joe Early.
"No broken bones," Joe told them, "but the eye is swollen. Stan doesn't think
there will be any permanent damage, but he wants to wait until the swelling
goes down a little to check it again, so we're going to have to keep him
a day or two. He ought to take it easy for a few days, anyway, keep the pressure
off of the eye."
Marco let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Roy knew Chet
was in big trouble, but no small part of him was angry at him for hurting
Johnny. And, this actually seemed intentional. Glancing at his partner, however,
he stifled his annoyance and stepped over to the gurney.
"How ya feelin', Junior?"
"Finer 'n frog's hair," Johnny replied thickly.
"Listen, if I get back here later, I'll look in on you. If not, I'll stop
by first thing in the morning. You do what the doctors tell you, okay?"
"Okee dokee," mumbled Johnny sleepily.
Roy frowned. "You sure you're all right?"
"Feelin' no pain, partner," Johnny sang, grinning crookedly, "feelin' no
pain...."
Roy looked at Joe. Joe shrugged. "He likes his codeine."
**********
The rest of the shift proved uncomfortable for everyone. By the time Roy
and Marco returned from the hospital, there were two replacements at the
station and Chet was gone. Stanley had suspended him for two shifts, and
was waiting for Roy's report on Johnny's condition before filing his
report.
"It looks like he'll be all right," Roy assured the Cap. "The ophthalmologist
couldn't really look at the eye because of the swelling, but the socket isn't
broken and he doesn't think anything is permanently damaged."
"When can he come back to work?" Captain Stanley was working hard to control
his anger.
"Not until the swelling goes down and his vision returns to normal, probably
not for at least a couple of shifts. Dr. Early said they'd know more
tomorrow."
Stanley shook his head. "What an idiotic thing to do," he muttered.
Roy studied the miniature catapult that sat on Cap's desk. "That the launcher?"
He looked a little sick.
Cap fingered the object lightly. "Kelly said it was supposed to lob
the ball, not hurl it with any kind of force."
Roy took the toy from Stanley and turned it over in his hands. "Cap, you
know Chet would never deliberately hurt Johnny."
Anger flashed in Stanley's eyes. "I know that, Roy. That's why I only suspended
him for two shifts instead of permanently." He banged a fist lightly on his
desk, his emotions flitting across his face like a kaleidoscope.
"Johnny will be fine, Cap. He was lucky."
Cap turned steely eyes to the paramedic. "So is Kelly."
**********
"Johnny?"
There was no response from the figure on the bed. Dixie had assured Chet
that Johnny was asleep, but it would be okay if he wanted to sit with him
for a while.
"I just...." Chet's voice trailed off.
"I understand," Dixie had told him sympathetically. She had planned to turn
the full force of her wrath on Chet--until she saw him. In all the years
she had worked in the ER, she had never seen anyone look as woebegone as
did Chet when he arrived that afternoon. "He's in 202. Try not to wake him
up, okay? He'll recover a lot faster if he rests."
Chet nodded miserably and made his way to Johnny's room. He looked so awful
lying there with what seemed like half his face hidden by a swath of bandages.
"God, Johnny, you have no idea how sorry I am," he said quietly. "I never
thought you'd get hit so hard, especially in the eye." He paused, waiting
to see if there would be any response, but Johnny remained silently oblivious.
"Just so you know, the Phantom is officially retired. Even if Cap didn't
insist on it, I wouldn't continue."
If Johnny had been awake, he would have been surprised to see Chet struggling
to keep tears back. Oh, he knew that in some warped way he and Chet really
did like each other. But, theirs was the kind of relationship that thrived
on conflict and ridicule, not honesty and emotion.
Chet sat down in one of the chairs. This was no good. An apology couldn't
count if it were given while the person for whom it was intended didn't hear
it. He would wait until Johnny awoke.
**********
The throbbing finally brought him back to consciousness. The pain was down
to an agonizing, steady ache now. Not much change from the few hours before,
when he'd first arrived.
Johnny slowly lifted the eyelid on his now uncovered left eye and waited
patiently for the room to swim into focus. The disorientation from his first
reawakening had vanished, and he knew immediately where he was and what had
happened. He wondered vaguely if it were time for another dose of painkillers.
He hated the grogginess and disorientation they caused, but the pain was
almost nauseating. He couldn't decide which was worse.
He swiveled his eye around the room, surprised to see Chet Kelly dozing in
a chair at his bedside.
"Hey, Chet, is it Tuesday already?"
Startled, Chet jumped from the chair and stared at Johnny, who was laughing
softly.
"Chet, I didn't know you could move that fast," he chuckled.
"How ya feelin', pal?" Chet seemed overly concerned.
"Like I got hit in the head with a golf ball."
Chet blanched.
"Sorry, Chet," mumbled Johnny. "Couldn't resist."
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Chet muttered.
Johnny shrugged. "What, that your aim was off?" He tried to smile, finding
it difficult with his face swollen the way it was. Odd how pain could manage
to spread so far from its original source.
"It's not funny, Gage. I could have killed you with that stunt."
"I'm too hard-headed for that, Chet," Johnny argued. "You've told me that
often enough."
"Yeah, well, I'm not taking any more chances."
"Scared ya, huh?" As madly as his head pounded, Johnny was beginning to feel
sorry for Chet.
Chet looked at Johnny, who sighed. "Listen, pal, I'm kinda tired...think
I'm gonna sleep some more." He settled himself against the pillow, and Chet
realized Johnny was struggling to stay awake.
"I'm really sorry, Johnny," Chet repeated softly.
"I know you are, Chet," replied Johnny without opening his eyes.
**********
"John, pal, good to have you back." Cap shook Johnny's hand as if he had
been gone several months instead of only ten days. He lifted Johnny's chin
and tilted his head. "Looks a lot better than it did the other day."
Johnny smiled. The "other day" had been last Tuesday, when the crew had stopped
by on their way home from their shift and sneaked breakfast into Johnny's
hospital room. Johnny had still been out of it because of the meds, and the
only thing he remembered about that visit was eating one custard-filled doughnut
and promptly throwing it up on Cap's shoes. Joe Early blamed it on a reaction
to the anti-inflammatory they had him on to reduce the swelling in his eye.
Cap had been very understanding, if not more than a little disgusted. As
Johnny recalled, though, his right eye had still been covered.
He had been released the next day, and hadn't seen any of the crew except
Roy since then. And, it was true, his features had returned nearly to normal.
There was still a certain amount of discoloration around the eye, and the
newly healed scar at the edge of his eyebrow was still slightly tender; but,
his eye had returned to its normal size, and his vision had cleared up, much
to his relief.
"Thanks, Cap," he replied, bending over once more to finish tying his shoe.
"No headaches?"
Johnny shrugged. "Nothing to speak of."
"Good, good."
"Cap?"
"Yeah, John?"
"Cap, you're making me a little nervous. Are you all right?" Johnny eyed
his superior warily.
"Never better, John, never better. Just glad to see you back in action."
Johnny straightened up and inclined his head. "Well...thanks, Cap." He turned
to his locker, slipped his scissors pack onto his belt, and, giving Smokey
his ritualistic tap, shut the door and turned back to the Cap, who still
stood there. "Anything else?"
"Uh, no, not at the moment."
"Well...okay." He waited, but Cap didn't move, so he finally stepped over
the bench and made his way out of the locker room and across the bay to the
squad, darting glances over his shoulder as he went. Might as well give Roy
a hand checking supplies. He waited until Roy had finished the morning
calibration and had disconnected from Rampart before he spoke. "What's with
Cap?" he asked quietly, pulling the drug box from its compartment and setting
it down on the floor.
"What do you mean?" Roy folded up the biophone and set it back in its
place.
"He's acting kinda weird."
Roy dropped to Johnny's side and helped check the inventory. "Weird how?"
Johnny shrugged. "He keeps asking me how I am, and he keeps staring at me.
It's making me nervous, Roy."
Roy regarded his partner calmly. "I think he wants you to take it easy
today."
Johnny looked at Roy in disbelief. "I'm a fireman, Roy. I can't take it easy
on this job." The inventory done, he closed and locked the drug box and lifted
it back into the squad.
"Tell you what, let's head over to Rampart and get some supplies. Maybe being
away from him will calm your nerves."
"Nerves? What nerves? I don't have a problem with my nerves, Roy." He raised
his voice to his partner, who was disappearing into the locker room in search
of Stanley.
No, but I'm going to before this shift is over, Roy told himself.
**********
"Good grief, Johnny, I would have thought you had had enough of this place.
What are you doing back so soon?"
Johnny grinned at Dixie. "Well, now, Dix, I missed the food."
"Johnny Gage, you are one big liar."
"Aw, Dix, you hurt my feelings." He scratched unthinkingly at the new scar
over his eye.
The red light over the base station door began to blink and the automatic
buzzer sounded. "Excuse me," Dixie smiled, "duty calls."
"So, what's with Cap today?" Johnny demanded again.
Roy sighed. Johnny hadn't said much on the way in about it, but he knew it
was too good to last. "Maybe he's worried that you'll go after Chet today."
"Chet? Why would I go after Chet?" Johnny checked their list and reached
for the pre-loaded syringes.
Roy stood still and stared at his partner. "You've gotta be kidding."
Johnny stopped what he was doing and looked at Roy, puzzled. "About what?"
"You honestly don't know why Cap thinks you're gonna go after Chet?" His
eyes strayed to the scar over Johnny's right eye.
Johnny rolled his eyes. "You mean this?" He pointed to his face. "Come on,
Roy, you know better than that. It was an accident."
Roy placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Johnny, he might have
killed you with that stunt. At the very least, blinded you."
"But he didn't," Johnny argued. "I'm fine. Besides, he didn't do it on
purpose."
"What difference does that make? The fact is, it was a dangerous stunt. It
could have been anybody who opened that door."
Johnny shrugged. "Then, I'm glad I'm the one who got hit and nobody else."
He lifted the pile of supplies. "I guess I'm the only one with enough of
a sense of humor to not be mad." He swung around Roy and headed down the
hall.
Roy stared after him a moment, shaking his head. "You're from another planet,"
he muttered as he followed his partner.
"Yeah, well, it's a pretty nice place--you might like it," Johnny grinned
over his shoulder.
**********
Mike Stoker collared Johnny a several days later as he sauntered into the
locker room late in the day. "Got a minute?" he asked.
"Sure, Mike," Johnny told him. "What's up?"
Mike glanced around, then leaned against the sink while Johnny washed his
face and hands. "We've got a problem."
Johnny turned the faucet off and lifted his dripping face, regarding Mike's
reflection with curiosity. "We? Who's we?"
Mike looked toward the apparatus bay. "This station," he explained simply.
Johnny tossed aside the paper towels with which he had wiped his face and
picked up his watch, strapping it back onto his wrist. He folded his arms
across his chest and frowned at the engineer. "Go on."
"We need to do something about Chet."
"Chet?" What was wrong with Chet? "Mike, what are you talking about?" Man,
it was like pulling teeth to get this guy to talk.
Mike looked around again, and Johnny realized that Mike was trying to
make sure they wouldn't be overheard. Johnny leaned forward.
"Johnny, ever since you got beaned by that golf ball--" Johnny grimaced at
the description, wincing inwardly at the remembered pain "--the guys have
been walking around this place on eggshells."
"I'm not the one who set the trap," Johnny shrugged.
"That's exactly the point."
"What, that Chet is better at practical jokes than I am?"
It was Mike's turn to smile. "Well, no. But haven't you noticed? Chet hasn't
so much as teased you once since then. He's been so quiet it's starting to
worry me."
"Listen, Mike, instead of being worried, why don't you just count your blessings?
Chet being quiet is the best thing that has happened to our shift in a long
time."
Mike shook his head. "No, Johnny, it's not good." He peered closely at Johnny.
The discoloration had disappeared and the scar from the gash was fading neatly.
"Even Captain Stanley is spooked."
"Mike, you guys know I'm not mad at Chet," protested Johnny.
"Oh, it's not you, Johnny. It's Chet. He hasn't forgiven himself for what
happened."
"Come on, Mike. It was an accident."
"Yeah, I know that. He just had the spring too tightly wound. But, that's
not the point. The point is that we need to do something to get him behaving
normally again."
"You mean, you want the Phantom back?"
Mike nodded. "We have to bring him back, Johnny."
"Aw, man...." Johnny had to admit that Mike had a point. He, himself, had
become somewhat complacent, but there was always the fear in the back of
his mind that he'd open a cabinet and find himself awash in a water bomb,
or that he'd wake up to find himself sneezing on a scattering of flour. Wondering
when Chet was going to spring again was making him nervous; as a matter
of fact, now that he thought about it, it was making everybody nervous. He
sighed. "All right, what did you have in mind?"
Mike smiled that slow smile and leaned forward, beckoning Johnny with a finger.
I know I'm gonna regret this, thought Johnny resignedly.
**********
"Gage!" Cap's voice rang out across the apparatus bay toward the locker
room.
Johnny's head appeared through the doorway. "Yeah, Cap?"
"Telephone!"
"Okay, got it!" Johnny trotted across the bay to the squad room and picked
up the extension. "John Gage," he announced. "Oh, yeah, thanks for calling
back." He turned and glanced at Chet, seated on the couch with Henry, as
usual, in his lap. "Uh, well..." He lowered his voice and turned toward the
wall. "Right....exactly....Well, I suppose it's as good a place as any, but
there's a chance there won't be anybody here--you know, we might get a run
or something....Yeah, right....Four o'clock? That should be fine. You sure
it wouldn't be better to go over this at your--oh, I see. All right...Okay,
four o'clock. And, if I'm not here--okay...Sure...Okay, thanks. See you later."
He replaced the phone on the cradle.
"Something wrong?" Roy studied Johnny's face from his place at the table,
where he'd been working on the morning's log.
"Huh? Oh--uh, no." Johnny glanced at his watch, then at Chet. "Nothing's
wrong." He spun and vanished through the doorway.
Roy looked over at Chet, who shrugged. "With Gage, nothing is ever wrong,"
suggested the Irishman.
Roy smiled. True. He returned to the log.
**********
The tall man in front of him produced a card from his breast pocket and offered
it to Captain Stanley. "I'm Roger Hearns," he explained. The card did, indeed,
carry the man's name--right above the words "Attorney at Law." Cap looked
back up at the other. "Is John Gage here?"
Cap shook his head. "He and his partner are out on a run," he replied, glancing
at the clock. "They should be back pretty soon--you're welcome to wait for
him in the squad room, if you like."
Hearns nodded. "That would be fine," he assured Stanley. "As a matter of
fact, that would give me an opportunity to speak with a couple of other people
I need to see as well." He pulled out a small notebook and consulted it.
"A Mike Stoker and a Chester Kelly."
Cap's eyebrows lifted but he refrained from asking the obvious question,
and instead led the man through the apparatus bay.
Mike stood at the counter, chopping onion. The scintillating aroma of browning
beef filled the room.
"Mike, you seen Kelly?" asked Cap.
Mike looked up for an instant, peering curiously at the stranger, then bent
his head back to his task. "He was in the locker room last I saw him, Cap."
Stanley introduced the stranger. "He's here to see Johnny," he explained,
"but he said he'd like to talk to you and Kelly, too."
"Oh." Mike gestured with the knife. "I'll be finished in a minute."
"Take your time," Hearns replied.
"Would you like some coffee?" offered the Cap.
"That'd be great."
"Okay, have a seat." He poured the attorney some coffee. "I'll go scrounge
up Kelly for you." As he turned to go, the object of his quest came through
the door himself.
"Man, I didn't think I'd ever--" Chet broke off as he noticed the stranger
seated at the table.
"Kelly, this is Roger Hearns. He's here to see Johnny, but says he also needs
to talk to you and Stoker."
Chet reached out to shake the proffered hand. "Chet Kelly."
The attorney nodded and looked at Cap. Taking the hint, Stanley murmured,
"Well, I'll be in my office if anyone needs me." He sauntered out, determined
to regain control of his curiosity, completely baffled as to how that might
be possible.
Mike slipped the onion into the skillet with the beef, dropped the knife
into the sink, and wiped the cutting board. Rinsing his hands and drying
them on a towel, he joined Chet and Hearns at the table, taking the time
to shake hands before he sat down.
Hearns pulled a legal-sized pad of paper from his briefcase, along with a
typewritten document of some sort and set them on the table in front of him,
sliding his briefcase to the side. He jotted a couple of notes at the top
of the page, which Stoker, seated nearer to him, noticed were the date and
time. He traded puzzled looks with Chet. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm
here," began Hearns. At the others' nods, he went on. "I understand that
both of you were on duty Monday, November 8th." He waited for a response.
Mike shrugged. "I'd have to look at the log," he said uncertainly.
"If I tell you that was the day that John Gage was hit in the eye with a
golf ball, would that help?"
Chet paled noticeably. Mike blinked and glanced at Chet. "Yeah," he said
slowly, "we were both on duty."
"Now, Mr. Stoker, I also understand that you were an eyewitness to the
incident."
Mike nodded.
"I wonder if you would mind telling me what you saw."
Briefly, Mike narrated the events of that afternoon, carefully avoiding Chet's
eyes.
"Was there anyone else who saw what happened?" asked Hearns.
Stoker shook his head. "Johnny's partner, Roy, was in the room, but he had
his back to Johnny."
Hearns nodded and made a notation on his pad. "Now, Mr. Kelly," he continued,
"I understand that you were the one responsible for the trap."
Chet nodded mutely, swallowing hard. "Uh, Mr. Hearns, would you mind telling
me what this is all about?" he croaked. Dimly, he thought he heard the squad
backing into the bay, and Captain Stanley's quiet voice calling to the returning
paramedics.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I explained that already. I'm here on behalf of
John Gage. He's seeking damages in the amount of--let's see--" he consulted
his notes again. "--five thousand dollars for pain and suffering, medical
bills, and lost wages." His gaze still focused on the papers in front of
him, Hearns didn't notice the change that came over Chet.
"Gage is suing me?!" he sputtered. He turned baleful eyes on Stoker,
whose own expression reflected surprise.
Hearns blinked. "I'm sorry...Haven't you received notification of the
proceedings?"
Chet shook his head numbly.
"Perhaps we should continue this at another time, then," Hearns suggested.
Chet made a face. I can't believe Gage is doing this, he thought
disgustedly. "No, might as well get it over with." Man, what am I gonna
do?
Hearns seemed to debate with himself for a moment, then he nodded. "All
right."
"What do you want to know?" Chet sighed.
"Well, actually, I'd like to see the place where the attack took place."
Chet winced at the word "attack." He closed his eyes for a second, then rose.
"Come on," he said resignedly. He was already planning his transfer request.
He led the way out into the bay, turning to the closet. "Right here," he
said. He didn't notice Johnny, Roy, Marco, and the Cap standing just out
of sight behind the squad.
"Was the trap set up in there?" asked Hearns.
"Yeah. Here, I'll show you." Chet heaved another sigh, then reached out and
pulled open the door.
The water bomb had been perfectly placed. A double-sized water bomb. A
double-sized water bomb that left the entire top half of the stocky fireman's
body soaked.
His sputtering and bellowing were drowned out by the laughter of his co-workers.
Stoker was actually doubled over.
"I never thought it possible!" hooted Captain Stanley. "John Gage put one
over on Chet Kelly!" He roared again.
Hearns stuck out a hand. "No hard feelings?" he asked.
Chet stared. "You mean--you were--there's not--"
Hearns grinned and shook his head.
"Chet, this is Beth's cousin," Mike laughed.
Chet could only gape.
Johnny clapped Chet on the shoulder, and the Irishman turned to him. "All
square now, Chet?"
Chet slowly shook his head. "Oh, no, Gage," he hissed. "We're just beginning...."
**********
Author's note: Thanks MUCH to Theresa for the beta read, the dialogue
she provided, and the little errors she caught, which would have ended up
BIG mistakes! And, to Gina for letting me tell this tale. Fore!
Addendum December 1999: Thanks, Jane, for inviting me to write for your site,
and for offering my story a new home here. But even after all these months,
you still better watch out when Johnny's on the course.
Editor's Note: This story was originally posted
on Jonesie's Tribute