Necessary Chances
Author's note: I'd like to thank Margaret-Anne Park for her kind assistance.
Necessary Chances
Roy DeSoto stuck the key into the squad's ignition and looked at his partner. John Gage had pulled his turnout coat around his neck, and rested his head against the rolled-up window as he dozed. A red streak mixed with the black soot from the apartment fire that dirtied John's forehead. Roy reached over and lightly brushed his fingers against John's hairline. Roy held them up to the light from a nearby streetlight and sighed. Blood. I knew it. John stirred slightly, but quickly settled. Roy picked up the microphone. "L.A. Squad 51 available at Rampart General Hospital."
Roy reached over and gently lifted Johnny's hair back until he found the cut. It doesn't look too bad, but it might need a couple of stitches. They'd been ordered to search apartments on the second, third and fourth floors of the ten story building. John suggested that they each take one side of the hallway to save time. Part of a ceiling had fallen on him as he searched an apartment. His helmet had been knocked off and he'd been hit by some flying debris. Roy wanted to check him out, but John insisted that he was fine. John stirred as Roy palpated the area around the cut.
"Ow! Hey!" John swatted Roy's arm away as he awoke. "What are you doing?"
He looked bleary-eyed at Roy.
Roy started the squad and showed his fingers to John. "You got a nasty cut on your head when that ceiling hit you. You're still bleeding." He wiped his hand on his turnout pants and pulled into traffic. "You'll have to get it sutured when we get to Rampart."
John sighed and felt the spot. He winced and looked at his blood-stained fingertips. "Well of course it's bleeding. All your messing around with it probably started it again. It's just a little cut." John shook his head vigorously. "We're not heading for Rampart just for this." John yawned and settled into the seat. "I have a heavy date with my bunk."
"We were on our way to Rampart for supplies when we got the run, remember?" Roy yawned. "I can't wait to get back to the station, either. I just hope you don't have to wait forever to get seen this time."
"This time?" John raised an eyebrow. "Now what is that supposed to mean?" he asked flatly.
"Nothing," answered Roy. He paused for a moment. I might as well tell the truth, although I'll probably regret it. Roy diverted his attention from traffic for a moment and eyed his partner. "All right. It seems like you've had more than your share of trips to Rampart lately. Have you ever thought about being, well...a little more careful?"
"Uh, Roy," said Johnny. "Need I remind you we have a dangerous job? I mean, firefighting isn't for sissies."
"I know that, John," Roy said patiently.
"Besides," protested John. "I'm careful. I can't help it if something hits me, like that ceiling. I didn't pull the damn thing down on me. It fell."
"I don't mean that, Johnny." Roy shook his head. I regret this already. "Sometimes you run headlong into a situation when maybe you should check it out a little, and on occasion, it backfires on you."
John looked indignant. "Are you saying that I'm reckless?" John huffed and pointed his finger at his chest. "I am not reckless! I know exactly what I'm getting into, whether I'm searching a burning building, pulling somebody out of a tree or ... anywhere!"
Roy sighed. "I never said you were reckless." He backed the squad into a bay outside of the Emergency entrance at Rampart and turned off the ignition. "It's just that you take more chances than anyone else I know. Most of the time your luck holds, and you come out smelling like a rose." Roy pointed his finger at Johnny. "But mark my words, one of these days, you're going to get seriously hurt or even killed." Roy paused to let the full effects of his words sink in. "Your luck's going to run out someday, and I hope I'm not around to see it."
John scoffed angrily. "Don't worry, Roy. You won't be around to see it, because it'll never happen. I am not going to get killed on this job, at least through my own recklessness." He opened the squad door and got out. "Are you coming, or am I going to have to run recklessly into the ED and get the supplies myself?" Johnny slammed the door and stalked into the hospital.
Roy shook his head and looked at his watch. It was 2:30am. At least we're off in a few hours. I just hope it stays quiet or it could be a very long night.
###
"Okay Betty, let's take a look." Mike Morton wheeled a portable mirror to the exam table. John held a basin that was now filled with red and black tinged saline that Betty used to irrigate his cut.
"Here, Johnny, let me take that from you." Betty took the basin from John and gave him a towel. She smiled at the Paramedic as Doctor Morton examined his wound.
"It's not too deep, but I think I'll stick a suture or two in there, just to be sure it heals properly," said Doctor Morton. "Betty, can you get me some 2.0 silk, 1% lidocaine, size 7 1/2 gloves and a kelly clamp?"
Betty walked to the counter and picked up a tray with several items arranged on it. She set it on the overbed table. "Here's your suture tray, Doctor Morton. It's something Dixie came up with. You should find everything you need."
"Great idea," Doctor Morton replied as he injected the area around the cut with the local anesthetic. "It seems like we're always stitching somebody up." Doctor Morton looked at Johnny. "Some more than others."
John looked at Mike Morton. "You too?"
"Me too what?" Mike asked.
"You sound just like Roy," answered Johnny. He didn't see his partner enter the treatment room. "He thinks I'm reckless."
"I never said you were reckless!" protested Roy. "I said you could be a little more careful, but I never called you reckless."
John glared at Roy and turned his attention to Doctor Morton. John jerked his head toward his partner. "He thinks I'm going to get killed someday," John said sourly. "I'm not reckless. Things just ...happen to me."
"John, hold still," ordered Doctor Morton. "I'll be done in a minute."
"I had an Aunt like that," offered Betty. "My mother swore her sister Elizabeth had an invisible target painted on her. She was always getting hurt, or had something happen to her. It didn't matter how careful she was, trouble seemed to find her."
"What kind of trouble?" asked Johnny.
"Well, when I was about eight," recalled Betty, "we had a party for my cousin's First Communion. It was in their backyard, and they had a brand new in-ground pool. They also had this big black dog, named Bowser. Bowser was great with kids, loved water in any form, but wasn't very smart. Anyway, we kids were all in the pool, and Bowser had been confined to the house, to keep him out of the way. Aunt Elizabeth brought the cake outside, but couldn't completely close the patio door with the cake in her hands. Bowser ran out of the house, and jumped right into the pool. He knocked poor Aunt Elizabeth into a couple of the lounge chairs. She twisted her knee and fell onto the patio. The cake landed in the pool. She was on crutches for a month after that."
"What happened to the dog?" asked Doctor Morton as he put his instruments on the tray. He inspected his handiwork and removed his gloves.
"He got sick from eating waterlogged cake," said Betty. "You should never feed chocolate to a dog."
"Whatever happened to Aunt Elizabeth?" asked Roy.
"She died a couple of years ago," answered Betty. "After my uncle died, she joined a widow's group. The girls in the group treated themselves to a once-in-a-lifetime vacation in Bermuda. They'd rented a yacht for a day-long cruise around the island. They were having a great time when it got a little rough. The girls were getting a little seasick, especially with the 'beverages' they'd been consuming. My aunt was, well, leaning over the rail. Suddenly a wave swamped the boat and swept her overboard."
Johnny grimaced. "Tough break."
"On that note," said Doctor Morton. "Make sure you keep the area clean and stop back in a week or so to get those sutures out."
"Right, Doc." John slid off the exam table. "Thanks." He headed towards the door.
"Anytime." Doctor Morton watched Roy walk out of the treatment room. "Hey John."
John turned towards Doctor Morton as he held the door open. "Yeah Doc?"
"Just be careful out there, okay?"
John set his jaw and sighed. After a brief moment he nodded and let the door close behind him.
###
Roy walked tentatively into the locker room. John whistled as he buttoned his uniform shirt. Roy sighed inwardly with relief and walked to his locker.
"Good morning, Roy." John said cheerily. "How were your days off?"
"Fine, just fine," answered Roy. "I took Joanne and the kids to the new marine park. The kids loved the whale show. What did you do?"
"Well, I did a lot of thinking," John said as he sat in his locker and tied his shoes. "You know, you were right. I need to be more careful. Maybe those little things that happen to me would stop, if I looked where I was going." He stood up and gave his Smokey the Bear picture a tap before he closed his locker. "Take that time I got bit by the rattlesnake. If I'd had a better look inside the car before I opened the door, I would have seen it, and could have avoided it." He rubbed his nose and looked at Roy. "Listen, I'm sorry I popped off to you the other night. I was out of line."
"It's okay. No offense taken." Roy grinned slightly. "I don't think you're reckless, John, just...impulsive at times." Roy closed his locker door. "We'd better get to roll call."
###
Roy stopped short as he entered the kitchen. It had been a fairly routine day and he'd been in Captain Stanley's office updating the log with the morning's calls. A "wet floor" sign stood near the doorway. The half of the room in front of the television had been cordoned off with yellow fire-scene barrier tape. Henry snoozed obliviously on the couch as Johnny furiously mopped the floor. "What's all this?" Roy asked as he pointed to the tape.
Johnny looked up. "Just mopping the floor." He resumed working.
"Why do you need to rope off the room to mop the floor?" Roy asked cautiously.
Johnny looked up again and leaned on the mop. "Well, I don't want the guys to come back from their run and slip on the wet floor. Somebody could fall and get hurt." Johnny motioned to the tape. "Don't worry, I'll clean this up before they get back." John finished the last corner of the floor and stepped over the tape. He put the wet mop in the bucket. "Did you know that most household accidents happen in the bathroom?"
"I heard something like that, yeah," Roy answered, cautiously..
"Wet floors are a big reason. People slip on wet spots and crack their heads open." John picked up the roll of tape from the kitchen table and pulled the wheeled bucket along. "Speaking of the bathroom, I'd better hurry up and do that floor before the guys get back." John started to whistle as he left the kitchen.
###
"Hear that?" asked Roy as he let the squad idle. They had just returned to the station from a run.
"Hear what?" asked John as he listened.
"That rattle," answered Roy. "It sounds like it's coming from the right side."
John listened for a moment. "Now that you mentioned it. I do hear a faint rattle. Probably a belt or something needs to be tightened." John opened the door. "I'll get the toolkit." Johnny got out of the squad while Roy turned off the ignition.
Roy popped the hood latch and got out of the squad. He raised the hood and peered at the squad's engine. Roy pulled the fan belt. It felt normal. He reached for the drive belt and pulled it. It felt a little loose. Roy felt a sharp pain on his arm as he withdrew it. A one-inch long superficial cut bled slightly on the underside of his forearm.
John returned with the toolkit. Roy stuck a finger in his mouth and wiped saliva on his cut. John looked appalled. "What are you doing!"
Roy looked at John. "I found the problem. The drive belt's loose."
"No!" John looked horrified. "You wiped spit on your cut!"
"So? I'll wash it when we're finished."
"Let me see that!" demanded John as he walked around the squad.
Roy sighed and showed his arm to Johnny. "See. It's superficial. It stopped bleeding."
"Superficial or not, it's still a break in the skin. Wiping it with spit is no protection against infection. Didn't you learn anything in training? Go wash it off and I'll bandage it."
"It doesn't need a bandage," protested Roy.
"Oh yes it does," insisted Johnny. "You have to protect it! You don't know what we'll get into next!" John walked to the side of the squad and pulled the trauma box from its compartment. "If that cut gets infected, you could get gangrene! God knows what kind of organisms are growing on that engine."
"Maybe we should contact Rampart and take a culture," suggested Roy with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Hey, I'm doing this for your own good." Johnny opened the squad's passenger door and put the box on the seat. "Just think. If you got gangrene, they'd have to chop your arm off. Poof! There goes your career!" Johnny opened a bottle of antiseptic solution and poured some on a gauze sponge.
"Poof?"
"Poof!" John sighed. "Think of what Joanne and the kids would say! They'd never forgive me if I let you end up with one arm."
Roy rolled his eyes and threw his arm up in defeat. "Okay. I'll go wash my cut. Then we fix the squad," he said sternly.
"Sure." John said brightly.
Roy walked past his now-smiling partner to the locker room.
###
"Okay guys, chow's on," called Mike Stoker as he put a large platter of spaghetti on the table. He placed a potholder on the table and picked up the kettle of simmering sauce from the stove. The hungry firefighters eagerly seated themselves around the table as Mike put the kettle next to the platter. He took a ladle from the stove and placed it into the pot. Marco grabbed a piece of the freshly sliced Italian bread, while Roy put some of the tossed salad into his bowl.
Chet leaned across the table and scooped some of the pasta onto his plate. He sniffed the sauce as he stirred it with the ladle. "Mike, I think this is your best yet." Chet lifted a ladle full of sauce from the pot.
"Chet, what are you doing?" asked Johnny. He grabbed Chet's wrist as it held the ladle over the plate.
Chet gave Johnny a funny look. "What does it look like I'm doing, Gage? I'm trying to eat dinner. Do you mind?"
"Well, yeah, I do mind," answered Johnny. "Look at you." He pointed to Chet. "You're an accident waiting to happen."
"An accident? What kind of accident?" asked Chet. "You're the one who's going to have an accident if you don't let go of my wrist."
"Guys," interjected Captain Stanley, "enough. Gage, let go of Chet so we can all eat before it gets cold." He put some of the salad into his bowl.
Johnny sighed. "Pouring hot sauce from that height in that position could make it splatter. He could burn himself, or one of us," he protested. He released his grip on Chet's wrist.
"He's got a point there, Kelly," said Hank. "Tell you what, John. Since you're closest to the sauce, we'll pass our plates to you. You can dish out the spaghetti and pour the sauce for all of us. Chet, give the ladle and your plate to Gage and sit down."
John beamed. "Thank you Cap." He looked triumphantly at Chet. "I'm glad somebody at this station recognizes a safety threat when they see it. Now give me the ladle, Chet."
Chet reluctantly gave John his plate and the ladle. He sat down and grabbed a piece of bread.
Johnny carefully returned the ladle to the pot and stirred the sauce. He carefully poured the sauce onto the pasta and handed the plate to Marco. The plate made its way around the table to Chet. Marco handed Johnny his plate. Johnny scooped pasta onto the plate and drizzled sauce onto the spaghetti. "Here you go, Marco." He returned the plate to Marco. John repeated the procedure until everyone had been served. He served himself and raised his fork to dig in when the tones sounded.
"Squad 10, Engine 51 for Engine 10. Unknown type rescue. Seventeen seventy-four West English, cross street Evergreen. One-seven, seven-four West English. Time out 18:15."
The engine crew rushed out of the kitchen. John twirled the spaghetti onto his fork and stuffed it into his mouth. A self-satisfied smirk crossed his face as the noise of the departing engine faded in the distance.
"Can you believe Chet, Roy?" John shook his head as he drank a glass of milk. "He could have burned himself." John ate another forkful of pasta. "Can you pass me a piece of bread?"
Roy silently pushed the plate across the table. John noticed Roy's expression and gave him a funny look. "What's wrong?"
"Don't you think you're taking this safety thing a little too far?" asked Roy. "Making sure the guys don't slip on a wet floor is one thing, but what's with those sticky flower things in the shower? You made a big deal over a minor scrape." Roy pointed to his bandaged arm. "And since when did putting sauce on a plate of spaghetti become a major hazard?"
"I'm just trying to be safe, that's all." Johnny wiped his mouth with his napkin. "You said it yourself, I need to be more careful." He pointed his finger at Roy. "That includes being more aware of the safety hazards around me, no matter how trivial they may seem. I'm just trying to make sure no one else gets hurt in the process." Johnny picked up his fork and resumed eating. "Besides, Cap agreed with me about the sauce thing."
I've created a monster. Roy sighed. Why didn't I keep my mouth shut?
###
The alarm tones sounded and the lights came on in the dorm. "Station 51, Engine 8, Truck 10." The men quickly donned their turnout pants and ran to the apparatus floor. "Structure fire. 1876 Lexington Avenue, One-eight-seven-six Lexington. Cross street Sepulveda. Time out 1:45."
"Station 51, 10-4. KMG 365." Hank acknowledged the call and handed a slip of paper to Roy. He activated the overhead doors and ran for the engine.
The squad parked in front of a burning two-story house. John and Roy quickly pulled their air tanks out of the side compartment of the squad and put them on. The engine paused in front of a hydrant two houses down. Marco climbed out and grabbed a length of hose and coupled it to the hydrant. Lengths of hose played into the street as Mike pulled the engine behind the squad.
Flames were visible through the roof and several windows of the upper floor. A woman and two children in their bathrobes huddled beneath a tree. The woman sobbed in the arms of a balding man dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt. The man ran over to the Paramedics. "You've gotta help! They're still inside!"
"Who's inside?" asked John.
"Her husband ran back inside to get the baby, but he hasn't come out yet! The room's up there." He pointed to a window that was free of fire.
"Don't worry, we'll get them out," John put his mask over his head. "Cap!" yelled John as he jogged towards the house. Hank had just gotten out of the engine. "We've got two people trapped on the second floor. We'll need a couple of ambulances and another squad!"
"Right!" Hank nodded and spoke into his handy-talkie. "L.A., this is Engine 51. We have a two story home is fully involved with people trapped. Respond two ambulances and a second squad." He paused to receive the acknowledgement from dispatch. "Truck 10, Engine 8, this is Engine 51." Hank continued. "Engine 8, cover the homes on either side of the structure. Truck 10, use your aerial ladder to knock down the flames on the second floor."
"Truck 10, 10-4."
"Engine 8, 10-4."
"Chet, Marco," directed Hank as they got out of the engine. "Take an inch and a half and try to knock down some of the fire to cover Gage and DeSoto."
"Right Cap!" Marco stepped on the back of the engine and pulled a nozzle and lengths of hose off the hose bed. Chet grabbed more hose and followed Marco. They tightened their masks and followed Roy and John into the house.
###
Roy led the way through the front door. An eerie glow cast by a partial reflection of the flames in the front window illuminated the foyer. Smoke billowed down the stairwell and out the front door. Roy and John climbed halfway up the staircase before Roy nearly tripped over the body of an unconscious man. Marco aimed the hose at the flames at the top of the staircase.
"This must be the father!" exclaimed Roy, his voice muffled by his air apparatus. He knelt down to briefly examine the victim. "I don't think he's breathing!"
"You'd better get him out of here!" yelled John. "I'll find the kid!"
Roy nodded. "Don't take too long, it could flash over at any time."
"Right!" John stepped aside as Roy slung the victim over his shoulder and hustled down the stairs. John ran up the staircase and turned left towards the room the man had pointed out. John felt the first door and opened it when it felt cool. Neatly folded sheets and towels greeted him. He closed it quickly and felt the door next to it. It felt cool.
John walked a few steps into the room and dropped to his hands and knees for better visibility. John made out the dim outline of a shower and toilet. He backed into the hallway and heard a loud rumble. John reflexively covered his face with his arms and curled into a ball. Burning timbers and pieces of ceiling fell into the hallway at the edge of the stairwell and blocked his escape. Sparks flew from the burning wood and singed the carpet.
John stood and ran towards the debris pile.
"Gage, are you okay?" Chet's voice barely filtered through the barrier.
"I'm fine, just cut off!" yelled John.
"Cap's pulled us out!" yelled Chet. "You'd better hurry!"
"Okay! Watch the windows for me!" He hoped Chet had heard him over the din of the fire.
John turned around and hurried into an open room at the end of the hallway. The outlines of bunk beds were illuminated by the lights from the fire equipment outside. Several toys and a small fire engine were strewn around the floor. John quickly searched the room and closed the door as he re-entered the hallway.
John felt the last doorway on this end of the hallway and opened it. Streaks of light shot through the room. John saw the outline of a crib in the center of the room. He closed the door and ran to the crib.
An eight-month old boy with light brown hair and chubby cheeks lay motionless in the crib. The boy cuddled a stuffed bear beneath his arm. John's heart sank when he picked up the limp child. The boy wasn't breathing, and John couldn't palpate a pulse.
Johnny removed his helmet and mask and started mouth to mouth resuscitation. He completed a round of chest compressions and hurried to the window. John opened his turnout coat and tucked the infant inside. He broke the window with his helmet and cleared shards of glass from the frame. John put his helmet on and leaned out of the window.
"Hey, Cap! I need a ladder!" John coughed and continued with resuscitation. He watched as Chet and Marco dropped their line and ran to get the extension ladder from the engine. They raised the ladder to the window. John glanced at the smoke that filtered through the bottom of the closed door. He carefully climbed out of the window and descended the ladder. One arm supported the infant, and his other arm guided him down the ladder.
An explosion ripped thorough the upper floor. It blew John off the ladder as flames shot through the window above him.
Johnny landed on his back, still cradling his precious bundle. He quickly opened his turnout coat and passed the infant to Bob James, one of the medics from Squad 10.
John tried to shake away the dizziness and ringing in his ears as he sat up.
"Are you okay?" asked Marco. He and Seth, the other medic from Squad 10 knelt by John.
John nodded and looked up. "Yeah." Johnny took a whiff of oxygen from his air mask. "Go ahead," he dismissed Seth. "I'll be okay." John sat for a few moments and watched Squad 10 work on the baby. He sighed in relief and smiled when a weak cry filled the air.
John suppressed a groan as he stood up. A knife-like pain pierced his chest. He walked slowly towards the squad. Roy gave John a concerned look as he loaded the baby's father into an ambulance. "You sure you're okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," replied John. "I'll see you at Rampart."
"Remember what I said the other day?" Roy asked.
John lifted an eyebrow and nodded.
"Forget it." Roy said as he climbed into the ambulance.
Bob carried the baby towards the second ambulance. "Great save, Gage."
John nodded as he closed the door of the first ambulance. He thumped the door and watched the ambulance drive into the night. John stood, momentarily transfixed by the sight of the receding emergency lights.
"Nice job, Johnny." Captain Stanley clapped John on the back. He noticed John's sharp intake of breath as the Paramedic closed his eyes tightly.
"You'd better get checked when you get to Rampart." John opened his mouth to protest, but Hank cut him off. "That's an order, Gage," Hank said sternly.
"Yes, Sir," John said dejectedly. He stowed his and Roy's air tanks in the squad and drove to Rampart.
###
"Well John," Doctor Morton said as he carefully examined John's x-ray, "it looks like you at least bruised a couple of ribs when you fell. There are three areas that could be fractured instead of bruised. I can't give you a definite answer, because the film is a little fuzzy." He switched off the viewer box and walked to the exam table. Betty stood to one side.
Johnny winced as Doctor Morton palpated the questionable spots on Johnny's chest and back. "You've got a few nice bruises. At any point, you'll be pretty sore for a few days." Roy entered the treatment room as Doctor Morton finished his exam.
John grimaced as he turned his head towards his partner. "How's the baby?"
"He should be fine," answered Roy. "He'll be in the hospital for a couple of days, but he should do okay." Roy smiled. "Bob said the little guy cried a blue streak on the way in."
"How's the father?" asked John.
"He'll be in the ICU overnight because of all the smoke he inhaled, but he should make a full recovery. They were very lucky." Roy looked at Doctor Morton and pointed to Johnny. He winked at Betty. "So how's the Aunt Elizabeth of the L.A. County Fire Department?"
Johnny sighed. "I'm fine, Roy." He grabbed his T-shirt and started to put it on. "Just a couple of bruised ribs." Johnny winced when he lifted his arms over his head.
"More like cracked ribs, Johnny," said Mike. "You need to take it easy for a few days."
Is there anything else, Doc?" asked Roy.
"Yeah, Roy," replied Mike Morton. "Try and keep him out of trouble."
"Don't worry," said Johnny. "I plan to catch up on some sleep."
"Wait a minute, John," said Roy. He moved closer to the table and started to look closely at Johnny's back. Roy walked around the table and examined Johnny's chest.
"What are you doing?" asked Johnny as he slowly put his arms through the sleeves of the T-shirt. He pulled the shirt down over his chest and reached for his turnout coat.
"No, let me," said Roy. He picked up the turnout coat and held it up to the exam lights. Roy carefully inspected first the inside, then the outside of John's coat. "Okay, let's go." He held the coat for his partner
Johnny slowly stood up and slid his arms into the coat. "Is there something wrong with my coat? What was that all about?" asked John.
"Nothing's wrong with your coat," Roy said innocently. "I was just looking for your target." Betty and Doctor Morton laughed.
John gave Roy a sour look. "Funny," Johnny held the treatment room door for Roy. He winked at Betty. "So Roy, how would you like a nice cruise to Bermuda?"
"I think I'll pass," answered Roy as he left the treatment room.