TUESDAY - 1:22 A.M.
Squeak.
Whoosh.
Squeak.
Roy DeSoto sighed as he worked the lump of clay on the pottery wheel in front
of him. The wheel's squeak had grown increasingly more annoying, the sound
echoing in the stillness of the night. He glanced around his workshop, trying
to decide if he wanted to take the time to fix the noise now or wait till
morning. His workshop was actually one corner of the garage, but it was his
place to come when he needed an outlet from the stresses of his job. Finding
time to indulge in his hobby was difficult but some days necessary. He usually
found a couple of hours at the wheel, creating, shaping and molding clay
pots did wonders for his mood.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, for some reason, he was still on edge.
He found himself listening to the sounds outside the garage, or rather, the
lack of sound. After all, it was past one in the morning it was suppose to
be silent. The crickets had long since stopped their nightly concert; traffic
out front was reduced to an occasional car whispering by; the kids, energy
spent after a full day of well, being kids, had finally given in to sleep
at their usual time. He and JoAnne had headed to bed at eleven. She had fallen
asleep 10 minutes later, the latest bestseller dropping out of her hands,
onto the floor. Roy grinned briefly at the memory before shifting restlessly
on the stool he always used when working on the pottery wheel. He hadn't
been able to sleep and had slipped out of bed, hoping a turn at the wheel
would help him shut down.
He started to rub a hand across his face, then grimaced as the clay he had
been handling streaked across his face.
"Oh, great! What a Johnny move," he berated himself, his voice echoing in
the silence.
A glance at the half-finished pot in front of him. No, definitely not a keeper,
he decided. Stopping the wheel, he got up and headed into the house, careful
not to spread any more dirt around. As he headed over to the sink, he thought
of his partner and friend, John Gage and wondered if he was having the same
problem sleeping tonight. Their last 24 hour shift, which had ended later
than usual due to a major apartment fire, with casualties and loss of live,
had been a rough one on both of them. Losing victims was never easy, especially
children.
He and Johnny hadn't had much chance to talk about it, though. By the time
they had made it back to the station, they were three hours past the end
of their shift and quickly headed out to their respective homes. He thought
idly about calling Johnny tomorrow, a quick glance at the clock mounted over
the sink, okay, later today, to invite him over for dinner but he dismissed
the thought a moment later. Johnny probably had a hot date lined up and a
day in suburbia certainly couldn't compete with that, Roy acknowledged ruefully.
Not that he was complaining. He liked, no needed to come home to JoAnne,
the kids, the dog.
His musings were shattered by the shrill ringing of the phone.
"Damn!" He lunged for the phone, tripping over said dog, anxious to get it
before it rang again, waking everyone up. He didn't even have time to worry
about who would be calling at this hour of the morning.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Is this…Roy DeSoto?" A man's voice, official sounding.
Roy frowned, not recognizing the caller. "Yes. Who's this?"
"Who is it, Roy?"
Roy looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway, yawning. He shrugged
his shoulders.
"I'm Officer Mike Delaney."
Delaney, Delaney? "Oh, yeah. You work out of Vince Howard's Division."
"That's right."
JoAnne moved to stand beside her husband, pulling the belt of her robe tighter
against the cool night air. She watched Roy's face as he spoke.
"Is something wrong, Officer?" He looked at JoAnne, the puzzlement clear
on his face. Why would the police be calling him in the middle of the night?
JoAnne and the kids were fine. Both his and JoAnne's families lived out of
town, so it couldn't be that.
"Um, Vince asked me to call. I'm not too sure of the details but…" the
voice stumbled for a moment, then continued, "it seems that Johnny…ah,
John Gage, was involved in a shooting. He's your partner, right?"
"What? Johnny's been shot? ? Where did…what…?"
"I'm sorry, Roy." Mike Delaney's voice broke into Roy's barrage of questions.
"I don't know very much. We're here at Rampart and…"
"Rampart. Okay, I'm on my way. Thanks for calling."
Without waiting for a reply, Roy dropped the phone back into its cradle and
started for the door, stopped, looking around, grabbed his keys and started
for the door again.
"Roy. Roy!" JoAnne caught his arm, holding him back.
Reluctantly, Roy stopped and looked at her. Fighting her own fears and worry
about Johnny, JoAnne smiled at her husband and waved a hand at his mud covered
clothes. "You might want to change first. I don't think the nurses at Rampart
are quite ready to see this side of you, hon."
Roy looked down at the garish sweat suit he wore, bright, neon green with
orange swirls, a gift from his children and one that he wore only in the
privacy of his workshop. He smiled reluctantly at his wife and headed back
down towards their bedroom.
###
EARLIER: MONDAY - 10:39 p.m.
John Gage shifted in the truck's passenger seat as he brushed yet more sand
out of his hair. Man, he would probably be washing away dirt for a week.
"Hey, do you mind?" Paul 'Chili' Chilibeck smirked as he tapped the steering
wheel. "How am I suppose to take my dates out in style with you getting sand
all over the cab?"
"Oh, funny," snorted Johnny. "Like you've got style or even dates for that
matter!" He clapped at his clothes, shaking off even more dirt. "Besides,
it's your fault that I'm dropping enough earth here to start my own farm."
Chili laughed out loud. "You can't lay that one on me, Gage. You're the one
who insisted on taking that road, so it was only fair that you had to push
the truck out." Chili rolled his eyes. "We could have gone hiking anywhere
but oh no, you had to pick an area with a road that shoulda been condemned."
"MY jeep could of handled that road just fine," Johnny reminded him smugly.
"Uh huh. And a lot of good that does when YOUR jeep is always in the shop,
like today." Using the index finger of his right hand, Chili stroked a line
in the air, chalking up yet another point in their ongoing one upmanship
battle.
Damn. Johnny made a face, then started to laugh. Even when he lost a point,
he still enjoyed the verbal sparring with Chili.
Chili took his eyes off the road for a second to look over at his friend.
Johnny was definitely more relaxed now than when they had started out at
noon. Hiking in the mountains seemed to always have that effect on him. Actually,
on the both of them.
He glanced surreptitiously at his watch. He had to work in the morning. The
two had ended up hiking a lot longer than they had planned but Chili hadn't
minded. He knew that Johnny had been feeling pretty stressed from a rough
shift, though they hadn't actually talked about it. Being a firefighter himself,
he could understand. Besides, Johnny was a good friend and would have done
the same for him.
They had hiked in the silence for the first part of the day, letting nature
work its magic. By mid-afternoon, they had been up to their old routine,
bickering amiably over sports, women, who owed who on the numerous bets they
were constantly wagering with each other, which of them was the better bowler,
and their favorite past-time - analyzing the weird minutiae of life, trying
to top each other with their wacky observations.
They could have done without the last part of their outing though, Chili
thought as he ran a hand through his thick, black hair. When they had finally
decided to head back, it was to find parts of the road covered in deep, soft
sand caused by several small landslides. It had taken a lot of time and effort
before they had managed to make their way out. He was going to be dragging
ass tomorrow, for sure.
It was as though Johnny could read his thoughts. "Hey, sorry that we're getting
back so late. I know you've got a shift tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it," Chili said, dismissing the apology with a wave of
his hand. "You know me. I'm always ready, no matter what. It's what makes
me a great fireman. Now you, on the other hand, will never be that…"
"What?" Johnny shot back, jumping into the good natured, on going debate
of theirs. "Give it up, man. I'm a fireman AND a paramedic. I'm doubly good
at my job."
"Nah, Johnny." Chili shook his head sadly, his blue eyes twinkling. "You're
only adequate at both those jobs cause you spread yourself too thin. As for
me on the other hand, well, I'm just doing one thing and that allows me to
be the greatest."
"In your dreams, Chili," Johnny shook his head with mock sadness. "Maybe
not even then!"
Chili chuckled, then stopped as his attention was drawn to a gas station
up ahead. A quick glance at the truck's gas gauge decided him. "I'm going
to stop for gas now so I don't have to do it in the morning, okay?"
"Sure," Johnny glanced out the side window, noticing a small grocery store
next to the gas station. "While you're doing that, I'm gonna go pick up a
few things."
"Okay," Chili pulled up to one of the pumps. "I'll wait for you out front."
Johnny lopped easily across the lot, glancing idly at the four-door car sitting
outside the store's door, engine running, no one inside. He shook his head.
Didn't the driver know that it was an open invitation for some crook to steal
the car? He shrugged and entered the store.
He was already a few feet into the store before he noticed that the old man
behind the cash register was looking very scared as he stared at a tall,
skinny man looming over him. It took a second longer to realize that the
man was wearing a stocking mask over his face. Before Johnny could even react,
he was grabbed from behind and slammed against one of the upright coolers.
"Don't move or you're dead!" a voice hissed in his ear.
Johnny felt cold steel at the base of his neck. He held his hands up against
the cooler door. "Okay. Just take it easy. Don't hurt anybody, all right?"
He was shoved even harder against the door. He was stunned for a moment,
his head swimming. Behind him, he could hear the other robber yelling at
the old man.
"C'mon! Ya got more money than this. Don't make me shoot you, old man."
"Okay, okay." The old man's voice quavered in fear. "There's some down here
under the counter. I'll…I'll just get it…"
"Move it or you're dead meat!" Tall & Skinny ordered.
To Johnny, both robbers sounded like they were high on something. Nervous,
stoned and carrying guns. A bad combination. He risked a quick glance around
the store. Besides the old man and the two robbers, he saw a man and a woman
cringing up against the far wall. They didn't seem hurt, only scared. Join
the club, Johnny thought grimly.
The robber standing behind Johnny noticed his curiosity and quickly slammed
the paramedic's head back against the door.
"Whatcha looking at?" he demanded, grabbing the back of Johnny's shirt as
he waved his gun menacingly. He turned to his partner. "Ya got the money?"
Tall & Skinny suddenly frowned suspiciously as he watched the old man.
Suddenly, he ducked back behind the counter and swore. He viciously smashed
his gun along side of the old man's face. The woman screamed, her companion
quickly shushing her as the old man fell to the floor. Tall & Skinny
grabbed wildly at the bills in the cash drawer. "Tank, the old guy pulled
a silent alarm. Let's get the hell out of here!"
"Damn!!" Tank turned but didn't ease his hold on Johnny. He looked at the
two people at the back of the store.
"C'mon, Tank. The cops'll be here any second."
"Yeah," Tank pulled on Johnny's shirt, forcing the dark haired paramedic
to move with him. "So we need some insurance." He prodded Johnny with the
gun. "And you're gonna be our piece of the Rock."
Johnny offered no resistance. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner
the others would be safe. Besides, Tank was keeping the gun glued to his
back.
Tall & Skinny held open the door as Tank hustled Johnny out, then turned
back to the people still in the store. "Don't move till the cops get here
or…" He fired two quick shots into the ceiling. The man and woman dropped
to the floor, holding each other. The old man dropped back behind the counter.
Satisfied that they would be too scared to dare get the car license or
description he hurried out. Tank was pushing Johnny into the back seat and
was climbing in after him. Tall & Skinny hurried over to the driver's
door.
Chili had just paid for his gas and was starting back to the truck when he
heard someone scream. He frowned, looking around. He froze suddenly as he
saw Johnny being forced into a car and heard gunfire. What the hell? Without
thinking, he started running towards his friend.
"Johnny!"
The getaway car squealed as Tall & Skinny shifted into drive. "God damn
it!" he swore as he caught sight of Chili. He aimed the car straight at the
young man who tried to dodge out of the way. Johnny watched in horror as
Chili hit the front bumper and went flying.
"No!" he cried out, reaching for the door. "Stop. He's hurt."
"SHUT UP!" screamed Tank. "Shut up!" He shoved Johnny down, face first, into
the seat. He pressed the gun to Johnny's temple.
###
TUESDAY - 2:11 A.M.
Roy raced into Rampart Emergency. He had been here so many times in his job
as a paramedic but this time was different. He headed over to the nurse's
station, hoping to see Dixie. He stopped abruptly. There was no one at the
desk, which was very unusual. He frowned, wondering where everybody was just
as he spotted Doctor Kelly Brackett coming out of Treatment Room 3.
"Doc?" Roy called out.
Brackett saw him and came over. "Roy, I'm surprised to see you here."
Roy was taken aback. Why wouldn't he be here? Johnny wasn't only his partner,
he was also a good friend. He took a deep breath. He needed to know how Johnny
was doing but now that he was about to find out, he couldn't quite control
the fear that clutched at his stomach. "How…how is he?"
Brackett ran a tired hand through his hair. "I've been working on another
case. It's crazy in here tonight. Joe Early's been taking care of him but
I heard he's going to be okay."
Relief flooded over Roy. Brackett watched him curiously. "Apparently he's
got a concussion and has been drifting in and out for awhile. He's got some
scrapes and bruises and a couple of busted ribs."
"Busted ribs?" Roy echoed, looking confused. "Was he shot in the chest?"
"Shot?" Brackett was shaking his head. "He wasn't shot. He was hit by a car.
It looks like he managed to avoid getting the full impact of the hit by vaulting
over the car. It could have been a lot worse."
"Huh?" Roy was now thoroughly confused. "But they told me that Johnny was
shot…"
Brackett looked at him. "I'm sorry, Roy. I was talking about Paul Chilibeck."
His eyes narrowed. "What's this about Johnny?"
"Chili? Johnny's friend? What's going on here?" Roy asked in frustration.
"I think I can help you with that, Roy." Officer Vince Howard stepped out
of Treatment Room 1, followed by Officer Mike Delaney. Howard nodded briefly
at Delaney who headed out, before turning to DeSoto and Brackett, who were
both waiting impatiently.
"Sorry for the confusion guys, but we had to wait for Paul to be conscious
enough to give us the whole story." The officer paused as he flipped open
his notebook.
"Vince? Would you just tell us what's going on here?"
Vince glanced up at the note of impatience in Roy's voice, understanding
the prickliness. He hesitated, unsure how to break the news. He looked back
down at his notes.
"There was a convenience store robbery late last night," Vince began reciting.
"According to witnesses two drugged out guys battered the owner, shot up
the place and when they realized the owner had pulled a silent alarm, took
a hostage. As they were leaving, Chilibeck tried to stop them and was hit
by the car. He was knocked unconscious and was out for a while. He came to
about an hour ago."
Vince paused, looking up at Roy. "That's a…that's when I had Delaney
call you." He looked back at his notebook, frowning. "Chilibeck was able
to give us the make and license number of the getaway car. We've put an APB
out on it."
Roy had grown increasingly puzzled as he listened to the officer. He still
didn't understand what was happening and even more so, why he had been called
to Rampart. Though he knew Chili, the man was definitely Johnny's friend.
Suddenly, he realized that both Brackett and Vince were staring at him. He
looked back at them, confused momentarily until he saw the compassion on
their faces. Brackett had realized something that Roy hadn't caught yet.
Then it hit him. Hard.
"Johnny…he's the…hostage?" he barely managed to ask.
Vince nodded sadly. "Yes. And right now, we don't know where he is."
Roy stared at him, forcing himself to ask, "Or…or whether he's even
alive?"
Brackett started to say something, stopped. There was really nothing anyone
could say right now.
Their silence spoke volumes. Sagging, Roy leaned against the corridor wall,
closing his eyes. He needed to make some phone calls but right now, it was
all he could do to keep on his feet.
EARLIER: MONDAY – 11:55 P.M.
Johnny squirmed carefully, trying to maneuver himself onto his side, to lift
his face away from the car's seat so that he could breath easier. Moving
was awkward though, as Tank had tied his hands securely behind his back before
climbing over to the front passenger seat to join Tall & Skinny.
Johnny could hear them talking, well, more like ranting. Tank was bitching
about how it just hadn't been his day, whining that he should have listened
to his horoscope, should have known the whole day was jinxed for them. ‘Ya
wanna talk bad day, man?' Johnny thought as he made a face.
A blast of cold air rushed over him as Tall & Skinny opened his window
and threw out yet another empty beer bottle, aiming for a passing tree. "Ten
points!" the man crowed as the bottle hit with a shattering crash.
It was obvious that the two were adding to their manic state, fueling themselves
with beer and what smelled like cheap wine. At the moment, they were ignoring
Johnny, which suited him just fine. His head still hurt from Tank's attention.
He closed his eyes for a moment, but quickly opened them. Every time he shut
them, he was haunted by the picture of Chili soaring over the car's hood.
He could still hear the sound of his friend's body hitting the car. It was
driving him crazy wondering how badly hurt he was, or even if he was…He
didn't want to finish that thought.
The car hit a rut in the dirt road, the movement jostling Johnny, forcing
him to put even more weight on his arms. He couldn't help himself. He groaned.
Tank reacted to the sound, reaching over the seat to poke him with the gun.
"Hey, you still with us?"
Johnny took a deep breath. "Yeah."
"Good." Tank gave a nasty laugh. "Wouldn't want ta lose ya, you know. You're
too valuable to us."
Johnny couldn't help muttering. "Then you guys really are hard up."
Tall & Skinny laughed, an ugly sound. Tank poked the helpless paramedic
even harder in the ribs. With Johnny's back to him, the man noticed the wallet
in his back pocket. He reached over and plucked it out, and began flipping
through it.
Johnny tried moving his shoulder again, hoping to ease the cramping. "Look,
guys, it's been what, almost an hour and no police. Why don't you just drop
me off here and take off. By the time I make it back to civilization, no
one will be able to find you."
"Yeah, right," Tall & Skinny snorted. He added, unconvincingly, "We're
just gonna keep you around a little longer, just you know, extra insurance."
"You're an Injun, right?" Tank asked, as he pulled out Johnny's driver's
license. He reached above his head and turned the overhead light on.
Blinking in the sudden brightness, Johnny gritting his teeth, muttering,
"That's Native American."
"So what kind of Injun name is John Gage, huh?" Tank tapped the driver's
license against the seat. "Don't sound too authentic to me."
Johnny kept his mouth shut. There was nothing to be gained getting into a
debate with the cretin.
"Betcha wished you had a tomahawk now, huh?" Tank laughed uproariously at
his own witticism. He took a swig of wine as he pulled another card from
the wallet. "What's this? You're a…" he struggled to read the word.
"Para…medic and a fireman, huh?"
Before Johnny could answer, they hit yet another rut, causing him to fall
face first against the back of the rear seat. He struggled to push himself
back. Tank reached over and flipped him on his back. Johnny blinked, grateful
at first until he noticed that Tank wasn't wearing the stocking mask anymore
and that he could now clearly see the man's face. Johnny quickly closed his
eyes. He knew he would have no chance of being let go if he could identify
them.
Tank laughed, spraying a mouthful of wine over the prone paramedic. "Don't
worry about it, pretty boy."
Johnny stubbornly kept his eyes closed. He could feel his wrist burning from
the ropes chaffing at them.
"So what are you, some do-gooder?" Tall & Skinny asked derisively. Another
bottle sailed out the window.
"I help people. That's my job." Johnny tried to keep his voice even, having
to fight not to let them hear the fear that was gripping him at the moment.
"Well, it don't pay ya much, do it?" Tank shook his head as he held up the
two fives that had been in the wallet. "What a loser," he decided, tossing
the wallet onto Johnny's stomach. Flipping off the dome light he turned back
in his seat. The two men looked at each other and began laughing crazily,
laughter fueled by drugs, booze…and stupidity.
Now that Tank had settled back in the front seat, Johnny risked opening his
eyes. With the bouncing of the car and its speed, he was getting motion sickness
with his eyes closed. He kept his gaze clued to the back window. He stared
at the scenery as it rushed by – the trees, the mountain, the moon,
stars, the night. He drank it in, a part of him starting to realize that
it might be the last time he would see such things. He had a feeling that
this time, this time, he wasn't going to cheat death.
###
TUESDAY – 3:34 A.M.
Roy paced outside Treatment Room 1 while Doctor Early checked on Paul Chilibeck
again. The paramedic had visited with Chili for a few minutes, enough to
know that the fire fighter was pretty upset about Johnny. Roy figured he
should stay with him. It would be what Johnny would have wanted. He shook
himself, upset to realize he was thinking of his partner in the past tense.
He berated himself silently.
He checked his watch again, sighed, wishing there were something, anything
that he could be doing right now. He had already phoned JoAnne and Captain
Stanley. Vince Howard had promised to let him know as soon as they knew anything.
He hated waiting around hospitals, ironic, considering his job. JoAnne still
teased him about how impatient he had been during the births of their two
children. He smiled as he thought of them, then sobered. If it turned out
that their Uncle Johnny was…gone, they were going to be heartbroken.
They wouldn't be the only ones.
Doctor Early stepped out of the Treatment Room. "You can go back in now,
Roy."
"How's he doing, Doc?"
"He's going to be okay, though I think we're going to have to strap him down
to get him to stay in bed. He wants to get out there and find Johnny."
Roy rubbed at his face wearily. He was operating on very little sleep by
now. "Well, that makes two of us."
Early placed a hand gently on the younger man's shoulder. "There are a lot
of people rooting for Johnny, Roy. You know that."
Roy nodded, unable to say anything. He turned and entered Treatment Room
1.
Chili sat up quickly. "Any news?"
Roy shook his head. He watched as Chili sank back against the gurney. "We're
gong to find him," he said confidently, trying to convince them both.
Chili stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head. He exploded suddenly. "This
stinks! We're firemen and you know that you can lose a friend on the job
quickly – fire, electrocution – but not like this. This is just
stupid. A couple of druggies with guns…" He fell silent.
Roy knew there wasn't anything he could say to ease the man's pain. Chili
and Johnny had been friends for quite a while now, having both been boots
at Station 10, their first assigned Station, though on opposite shifts. They
had really gotten to know each other when they both joined the same LA County
Bowling League team. Roy knew that they had a lot in common, and shared an
easy camaraderie that he sometimes envied. He and Johnny were close but not
in the way that his partner and Chili seemed to be. He gave himself a mental
shake. He couldn't believe he was even thinking about such petty stuff right
now.
"We were hiking, you know?" Chili said suddenly. "Johnny was bummed about
his last shift. Guess you must have been too, huh?" At Roy's nod, Chili smiled.
"Johnny was going to ask you along but figured that you would probably be
happier hanging with JoAnne and the kids."
Roy was surprised that Johnny had thought of asking him to go hiking. In
some strange way, it made him feel better. He had to smile. "He was probably
right. Guess he knows me pretty well."
"He loves your family."
"They love him," Roy wandered restlessly around the room.
Chili watched him sadly. "He's lucky, you know."
Startled, Roy turned to look at him. "Huh?"
"Some people never find even one good friend their whole life…" he plucked
at the blanket covering him. "But Johnny, he's got two of ‘em, right
here."
Roy stared at him in surprise. Despite the fact that Chili was in pain, both
physically and emotionally, he seemed to be focusing on the loss that Roy
himself was feeling. The blond paramedic was beginning to understand why
this man and Johnny were such good friends.
Just then, Dixie poked her head in the room, clearly excited. "We just got
a report in. They found the car!"
"Finally!" Roy exclaimed. "And Johnny?"
Dixie shook her head. "We don't know yet." She tried to give them a reassuring
smile, but didn't quite make it." There was a police chase and the car crashed.
They're bringing in a victim and…" She stopped, unable to continue.
"Dix?" Chili swung his legs over the edge of the gurney. "What?"
"There's a report of a fatality at the scene."
Stunned silence greeted her words.
###
EARLIER: TUESDAY - 12:43 A.M.
Tall & Skinny had pulled the car into a clump of trees and he and Tank
had gotten out to walk around for a bit, and judging from the silence before
they had parked, to talk without their hostage hearing them. They were both
jittery now, wired.
Though Johnny had wanted them to think that he hadn't seen them, he had actually
managed to keep his eyes open slightly, slits really, and had memorized their
faces. Just in case he ever had the chance to tell anybody…he forced
himself to stop that line of thinking. It wasn't in his nature to give up
and he wasn't going to start now. How had Roy put it - he was a 'cock-eyed
optimist'. Yeah, that was it. He grinned at the memory for a moment, then
sobered. If there was anything he could be thankful for in this whole mess,
it was that he hadn't called Roy to go hiking as well today. Bad enough that
Chili was…his mind veered away from the worst case scenario…well,
involved, he didn't think he could have handled it if something had happened
to Roy, too.
The thought of his two friends occupied him for a few moments. He remembered
something JoAnne had said to him after meeting Chili - 'You and Chili are
two peas in a pod. With Roy, you've got a yin and yang thing.' The memory
made him smile. Roy's wife did have a way of getting to the heart of things.
He grimaced suddenly as his arms, numb from the ropes tying his wrist and
with him lying on them, started to throb again. Once more, he tried shifting
his position. He had given up trying to loosen his bindings. They weren't
budging. Tank might have been wasted but he sure knew how to tie a knot.
Johnny tensed suddenly as he heard the sounds of the guys coming back. They
had been gone for quite a while. He wasn't sure how long. He was totally
disoriented by now and wasn't sure of the time or where he even was. They
seemed to have been driving in long, meandering circles. He watched as Tall
& Skinny checked on him before getting in the front seat. The man started
up the car and began drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, clearly
preoccupied.
A moment later, Tank came trudging back from the opposite direction and slipped
into the front seat. "The road's clear," he said absently. He rubbed the
gun he was holding as he turned to look back at Johnny.
Tall & Skinny shifted the car into gear and pulled back onto the road.
Johnny frowned. There was an air in the car now, an atmosphere that hadn't
been there before. It was clear the guys had decided on something and were
now steeling themselves for whatever they had decided.
The car headed up further into the mountains. Neither man spoke and that
scared Johnny more than their wild rantings ever had.
TUESDAY, 4:05 A.M.
Roy and despite doctor's orders, Chili, were waiting anxiously at the emergency
doors as the ambulance pulled up. They knew the only survivor of the crash
would be in there. They stepped aside, reluctantly, to let Doctor Brackett
ahead of them.
They watched as the doors opened and the gurney was handed down to the ground.
Roy struggled to see over the medical attendants. Suddenly, they parted for
a brief moment and he saw the large, squat man lying on the stretcher. He
paled. It wasn't Johnny. He looked at Chili, seeing his own thoughts reflected
on the young man's face. Johnny had to be the fatality. Numbed, he moved
out of the way, pulling Chili with him.
The man on the stretcher was ranting and screaming, pointing at the air around
him. "There he is. There! Don't ya see him? He's haunting me….make him
go away…" His voice could be heard echoing off the walls as they wheeled
him to a treatment room.
Roy and Chili exchanged puzzled looks, but had more important things to worry
about than the ravings of a druggy. They were both just moments away from
losing it themselves. Roy fought to stop himself from pounding the cement
wall.
Chili slumped against the wall, his face wreathed in pain, as he rubbed his
ribs. Roy put a steadying hand against the young man's shoulder. "Come on.
Let's get you looked at." At the moment, he was glad of the distraction.
Just then, Vince, came hurrying toward the two men from around the ambulance,
where he had parked. He pratically yelled at them, "It wasn't Johnny!"
The people milling around the entrance, turned to look at him. Vince though,
spoke only to the two men standing side by side. "He wasn't in the car. It
was the other perp who died."
Roy was having a hard time processing the information. "Then…where is
he? Where's Johnny?"
Vince took a deep breath. "The one we brought in, his street name is Tank,
don't know his real name yet, he was ranting quite a bit when we found him.
Seems to think Johnny put a curse on him."
Suddenly, despite his pain, Chili chuckled. Roy gave him a puzzled look,
wondering if the concussion the fire fighter had suffered was starting to
affect him. Chili saw his concern, and waved it away. "It's just…Johnny
and I were talking about voodoo and stuff the other day. You know, about
how that stuff works because people believe it works. He was thinking about
pulling a gag on Chet…" His voice trailed away. His smile faded as his
voice shook. "I'm babbling. Sorry."
Vince looked uncomfortable. "It seems that…" He stopped for brief moment.
This wasn't going to be easy. "Tank says that his partner, the one who died,
shot Johnny…"
"Shot…?" echoed Chili. He started to shake. This nightmare kept getting
worse.
"Apparently, in the head. They tossed him down a ravine up in the
mountains…"
"In the head…" Roy repeated, dazed.
Vince nodded towards the interior of the hospital, motioning for the men
to follow him. Doctor Early looked up as they came in. "Those two were so
wasted, Roy, that they might have just imagined the whole thing. We're going
to put together a search party to check out the road he said they were on."
He looked at the two men intently. "We're going to find him."
"Do you need volunteers?" Now that he knew the worst, Roy was prepared for
action. "I can put a call out to all the off duty fire fighters."
"Do it," Vince decided. "The more people we have, the more area we can cover."
"I'm going too." Chili headed for the treatment room to get his clothes.
Doctor Early moved to block his way, shaking his head. "No, Paul. We need
to keep an eye on you. You've got a concussion and those ribs…"
"Forget it, Doc," Chili said stubbornly. "I'm going out there."
Roy looked at the fire fighter. Man, he and Johnny sure were alike. He turned
to Early. "I'll keep an eye on him. If there's any sign of a problem, I'll
ship him back."
Early clearly didn't like it but could see it was the best he was going to
get from them. "All right, but any problem, with your breathing or pain in
your chest, you're back here. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Chili nodded. Early walked away, shaking his head. Chili turned
to Roy, and said, soberly, "Thanks, man."
Roy nodded, waved the man into the room. "Get dressed. I'm gonna go make
some phone calls."
###
EARLIER: TUESDAY - 1:17 A.M.
Tall & Skinny pulled the car over to the side of the road, hugging the
lip. He and Tank sat in silence for a moment.
Johnny didn't like it. He knew, in his gut, that they had decided that they
couldn't let him go. His mind raced - fear, worry, anger, frustration - he
tried desperately to think of a way out, anything.
He tensed as he saw Tank start to open the back door. Pulling his legs up,
he pushed with all his strength against the door, knocking the squat man
flat. He scrambled out the door, forcing his numb legs to move, stumbled,
then was running wildly down the road. Without warning, he fell to the ground,
eating dirt as Tall & Skinny tackled him.
"Now, now." Tall & Skinny hauled his hapless victim back to his feet,
keeping a tight grip on Johnny's arm. "We're not gonna hurt you, man. We're
just gonna…make sure you can't get help right away."
Johnny didn't believe him, but was now totally helpless as he was dragged
over to stand a few feet in front of the car. "You just wait right here,"
the man said, waving his gun in Johnny's face for emphasis. He went over
to check on Tank. Because of the glare from the headlights, Johnny couldn't
see the men, though he could hear them whispering, a word drifting to him
here and there. Then, he heard, "Heads, you. Tails, me." It could only mean
one thing. He shuddered involuntarily.
He heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel and tried to step back, suddenly
had to scramble to keep his footing as the earth gave way beneath him. He
hadn't noticed that the edge of the road sloped sharply behind him. Must
be a ravine. He forced himself to calm down, to slow his breathing, clear
his head. He had been trying too hard. He knew his only chance was to let
instinct take over.
Tank stepped in front of the headlights, the winner, assumed Johnny. The
man was holding his left hand in his jacket pocket, trying to look casual,
but Johnny knew he had the gun in there. He stared at the man's dead eyes.
Pleading wouldn't do any good. Besides, his stubborn streak wouldn't let
him give the man the satisfaction.
Tank tried a smile, a scary effort. "Turn around."
Johnny shook his head. "No." He would have no chance if he were shot in the
back. An idea was beginning to form, a desperate plan. He remembered a
conversation with Chili, about Voodoo and curses. He forced himself to look
calm. "I'm gonna watch you. It's the only way my Indian curse will work on
you."
Tank took an involuntary step back.
Johnny nodded to himself. He had been right. The man was really into that
kind of thing. He needed to really spook him now.
Tank had stopped moving and was hauling the gun out of his pocket. He pointed
it at Johnny. "Shut up!"
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Johnny forced himself to laugh. The man's hand
began to shake. Johnny pressed him his advantage. "Your bad day just got
worse, Tank. Every time you turn around, you'll see me. You look at yourself
in the mirror, I'll be there. When you walk down a dark alley, you'll hear
me breathing." He was really laying it on. He didn't know where he was getting
it from, but desperation could make you do anything. "Every time you open
a door, turn a corner, open your eyes, you'll see me. You won't be able to
eat, to sleep…you'll waste away, wither and die…slowly,
painfully…bone gnawing agony."
The gun was definitely wobbling now as the squat man began to sweat.
"Hurry it up!" Tall & Skinny yelled from the car. "Shut him up. He's
just messin' with your head."
Tank waved the gun at Johnny. "Take it back. The curse. Take it back!!!"
Johnny shook his head as he kept his eyes locked with the squat man's. He
remembered something that Roy had told him once, about how the pupils in
a person's eyes telegraphed whatever they were about to do. He prayed his
friend was right. His plan depended on it. Tank was holding the gun aimed
directly at his forehead.
At that moment, everything seemed to go into slow motion for him. Each moment,
every sound amplified.
The barrel of the gun wavered slightly. Tank pulled back the hammer, the
cylinder turned, the chamber clicking loudly. Johnny fought to keep still,
to keep watching Tank's eyes. For a brief second, the shooter hesitated then
his pupils dilated….
1:22 A.M.
…Johnny fell backwards, a split second before the sound of thunder from
the gun roared in his ears, a split second before a searing pain blinded
him. He was falling…falling…falling…
TUESDAY, 7:25 A.M.
Sunrise. Fire fighters and Search and Rescue Personnel, after checking in
with the hastily assembled command center, were quickly heading off to search
their assigned grid. The volunteers kept coming. Word had spread like wild
fire. Johnny was well known throughout the county and beyond. The men were
there for a colleague, one of their own.
The men from 51's A Shift were searching together. They had stopped to speak
to Roy and Chili first. No one knew what to say. They were all in shock.
They had been told about Tank's confession and knew that they were looking
to recover their fellow fire fighter's body, not to rescue him, but no one
wanted to be the one to say it.
Roy decided he would stay with the ambulance, riding up and down the road,
checking everyone's progress. He wanted to be available at the first sighting
of Johnny. He wouldn't think past that moment, wouldn't entertain the possibility
that…no, his friend wasn't dead. Not now, not this way. He cast a worried
glance over at Chili. The young man was quiet, monitoring, the radio as the
search groups reported in a regular intervals. He was trying to hide the
pain his ribs were giving him. Roy knew he would have to send him back to
Rampart, but decided to wait a little first.
Chili looked up at Johnny's partner, glad he was there. He knew that they
were the only two who expected to find their friend alive.
EARLIER: TUESDAY, 6:32 A.M.
He zeroed in on the sounds of a burbling stream. Gingerly, he moved forward,
fanning a foot out on the ground ahead of him before taking a step. He was
incredibly thirsty, like he had the Sahara desert in his throat. He didn't
know how long he had been walking. His head hurt, really hurt.
He froze, tilting his head as he tried to figure out which direction the
sound he had just heard had come from. What if it was Tank or Tall &
Skinny coming to finish him off? His heart raced, but he forced himself to
stand still. He couldn't afford to run off in blind panic. He gave a snort
of laughter at the thought. Blind was the operative word.
He finally relaxed when the sound wasn't repeated. Probably a woodchuck or
deer. He wouldn't let himself think of any other animals that it could be.
He took another step closer to the stream, and another. His foot slipped
on a branch and he fell face first into the water. Panic gripped him as,
unable to use his hands, he had to struggled to lift his head out of the
water.
Coughing, sputtering, he got his feet under him and moved over to the side
of the stream. Leaning over, using the bank as leverage, he slowly, carefully,
leaned forward, drinking deeply, letting the water run down his throat. Finally,
sated, he worked his way back to dry land and sat down heavily as he contemplated
his next move.
He had no idea what time it was, whether it was day or night. He had no idea
how long he had been unconscious. He stared up at the sky, blinked repeatedly,
hoping against hope that his vision would miraculously appear. Nothing.
He sighed heavily. The bullet must have caused damage to the optic nerve.
Without the use of his hands, he had no way of knowing where the bullet had
entered his head or why he was even walking, conscious. So maybe his trick
of throwing himself backwards just before the gun went off had been enough
to redirect the bullet and fool Tank. Maybe…
Ouch! His head hurt like hell, but in a way he didn't mind. At least the
pain let him know that he was really alive.
He struggled to his feet. He wanted to avoid the road, still afraid the men
might come back for him. He would continue to follow the stream and hope
that it would eventually lead him to a cabin where he could find help.
TUESDAY - 11:01 A.M.
Roy finished splinting the sprained ankle of one of the volunteer searchers.
The terrain was rough, almost impassible in areas but no one was giving up.
Glancing at his watch, Roy frowned. It was taking too long. The wound Johnny
most probably had needed to be treated now. He started to pace. He had finally
been forced to send Chili back to Rampart. It had taken a lot of convincing
but finally, trusting Roy to let him know if and when they found something,
he had consented to going back for treatment.
Captain Stanley and Chet hiked up the bank to Roy. "How's it going, Pal?"
asked Stanley.
Roy shrugged. There was nothing he could say.
Stanley dropped an arm around his shoulder. "We're gonna find him. Even if
we have to cover the whole damn state."
"Yeah," Chet said earnestly. "No way Gage did a voodoo curse and didn't survive."
He tried to keep his voice light, but it wobbled. "He's not gonna get away
without showing me how he did that one."
Roy laughed as he looked at Chet. "Great. Just what we need. You and Johnny
putting curses on each other."
The three men laughed. Laughter tinged with tears. Stanley and Chet headed
back to their search. The ambulance driver waved over to Roy. It was time
to check in with the other searchers.
###
EARLIER: TUESDAY - 9:08 A.M.
Johnny tripped over yet another sprawling tree root. He fell heavily, still
unable to break his fall. He lay on his stomach, breathing heavily. His head
felt like it was going to split in two. He knew he had to get up, but for
a moment he couldn't quite remember why.
'Help. Need help, that's it.' He pushed himself to his knees, swaying. 'Find
Roy. He'll help.' Deep breath. He made it to his feet, forced himself to
move, not realizing that he was moving away from the stream. He didn't notice
the ground start to slope upward, didn't seem to remember why he couldn't
see. He fell again. Started to get up but sank back to the ground. So tired.
Need to rest for a bit. Yeah, just for a little while. He drifted.
###
TUESDAY - 1:37 P.M.
The ambulance driver pulled to a stop at a point just before the road curved.
Roy stepped out of the vehicle. They were now back to where Station 51's
A-shift crew was searching. He stood, undecided about what he needed, should
do next.
"Hey, I see something!" One of the men from Station 10 called out from just
around the bend in the road.
Roy stopped, every muscle tensed, bracing himself. He had put on a good show
for everyone but now that the moment of truth was here, he found that he
couldn't stop himself from shaking. He reached out and held onto the ambulance's
side view mirror.
"Is it Johnny?" another voice called out.
"Yeah! He's alive!!"
Roy was off and running, charging up the road, followed closely by the rest
of 51's crew.
The paramedic stopped abruptly as he caught his first glimpse of Johnny.
His partner, soaking wet, bleeding, hands still tied behind him, was backing
away from Jake Bluson, a fire fighter from Station 10.
"Hey, it's okay," the man spoke soothingly as he kept walking closer. "We're
going to help you."
Roy could see that Johnny, disoriented, in shock, didn't seem to understand.
He was getting dangerously close to the edge of the ravine again. God knew
what was going through his partner's mind. Roy waved everybody away. "Back
off. I'll get him."
Sensing that Bluson had moved away from him, Johnny stopped backing up. He
stood, poised to flee, shaking his head from side to side, trying to get
his bearings.
Steeling himself, Roy ran a practiced eye over his partner. The left side
of his face was swollen, blood still dripping down his face. It was obvious
he couldn't see and his breathing was ragged. He needed help…now!
"Johnny," Roy called softly, praying his friend would remember him. The dark
haired paramedic swung his head towards the sound of his voice, frowning.
"Johnny, it's me, Roy." Roy moved forward slowly, stopping when Johnny responded
to the movement by backing away.
"It's okay. You're gonna be okay."
Still, his partner didn't seem to understand. Roy looked behind him at the
large circle of concerned faces. He turned back to Johnny. He thought he
knew what might get through to him.
"Johnny, we got them. They can't hurt you anymore." No reaction, except a
deeper frown. Roy forced his voice to remain normal. "And Chili's okay, Johnny.
He's at Rampart, making time with that new nurse you had your eye on."
Johnny seemed to sag all at once. He blinked his unseeing eyes. "R…Roy?"
he asked.
"Yeah, Johnny." This time the smile was genuine. Roy started forward. "It's
me."
"Help me," the young man whispered as his legs started to buckle. Roy had
never moved so fast in his life. He caught his friend before he hit the ground.
Stanley motioned to the paramedics from Station 10. "Get your gear down here
on the double, guys!"
Roy cradled Johnny in his arms. "It's okay," he whispered as he rocked his
now unconscious partner. "It's gonna be okay now."
###
Brackett wasn't surprised to see Roy and Chili, who was now sitting in a
wheelchair, waiting in the hallway, instead of the lounge with the rest of
the guys. He smiled at them. "He's going to be okay."
Both men let out a huge sigh of relief.
Brackett crossed his arms over his chest. "He'll need some time. The bullet
creased his forehead. He was pretty shocky as well as hypothermic and dehydrated
when he came in and he's lost a lot of blood, but with rest and fluids, he'll
be okay." Brackett rubbed his chin. "If that bullet had been a millimeter
lower…" He stopped abruptly.
Chili was smiling to beat the band but Roy still looked serious. Chili hadn't
seen the condition Johnny had been in. The older man gave the doctor a searching
look. "Doc, his eyes?"
Brackett sighed. Trust Roy to ask the hard questions. "I've had a specialist
in to look at him. Right now, there's a lot of swelling to the optic nerve.
The blindness could just be temporary. We won't know anything definite until
the swelling goes down. It'll be a couple of days or so."
Chili slumped down in the wheelchair. He stared at Roy.
Roy wouldn't, couldn't let it go. "Doc, is he going to see again?"
Brackett took a deep breath. "He's alive, Roy," he said gently. "Let's take
it one miracle at a time."
###
Since Chili was already a patient at the hospital, he had managed to sneak
in to visit his friend again before visiting hours. Johnny was weak, and
unusually quiet at first but Chili wasn't worried. It was like the beginning
of some of their hikes. Johnny would be quiet at first until he worked through
whatever was bothering him. One thing was obvious. Though his friend couldn't
see at the moment, his sense of humor was still intact.
"Sure, Gage," Chili teased, "now you have a built in excuse for making gutter
balls when we're bowling."
Johnny laughed, careful not to move his bandage head too much. It still hurt.
"At least I'll have an excuse. What are you gonna blame all your gutter balls
on?"
The two were still laughing when Roy walked into the room. He stopped, surprised.
He hadn't known what to expect, but laughter was definitely not it.
Chili looked up, noticing him. "Hey, hi, Roy."
Roy nodded at him, glancing at Johnny, hesitating.
Johnny cocked his head toward where he figured the door was. "Roy?'
"Yeah, Johnny. I'm here."
"Hey." There was so much Johnny wanted to say to him but he didn't know where
to start.
No one seemed to know what to say. The silence built. Chili looked at the
two men. He realized that Johnny and Roy needed time alone together. He knew
instinctively that there were some things Johnny would not talk to him about
but would to Roy and vice versa. He stood up. "Well, guys, I've gotta run.
That cute nurse is waiting for me."
"No fair," Johnny muttered with a grin. "Just cause you got here first."
"You snooze, you lose, buddy. I'll drop by later, okay?"
"Yeah," Johnny raised his left hand, palm out. "Thanks, man."
Chili tapped his fist lightly into Johnny's hand. "Later."
He smiled at Roy as he left. The older man was still standing awkwardly by
the door. He couldn't seem to think of what to say.
Johnny frowned. "Roy? You still here?"
"Uh, yeah. Sorry." He sat down in the chair that Chili had just vacated.
"You okay?" asked Johnny, concerned by his friend's silence, not that Roy
was very vocal at the best of times.
Roy smiled, shaking his head. "I'm supposed to be asking you that. You're
the one in the hospital bed."
Laughing, Johnny settled back against the pillows. "I'm okay." He paused
for a moment. "Thanks to you and all the guys."
"Well," Roy cleared his throat. "JoAnne and I talked it over and when you're
out of here, we're going to throw a thank you barbecue for all the people
who helped in the search."
"Cool. Thanks." Johnny's smile faded for a moment. "Roy…those
guys…Tank and Tall and Skinny…?"
Roy blinked at the nickname Johnny had given the driver. He smiled. That
was so like Johnny. "It's like I told you, Johnny," he assured him quickly.
"You don't have to worry. The driver, ah, Tall and Skinny died in the crash
and Tank, well, he's wanted on a number of outstanding warrants as well as
a brand new attempted murder charge. He's going away for a long, long time."
Johnny let out a shaky breath. The two men had been haunting his sleep, probably
would for some time to come.
"Not to mention that he's convinced you hexed him," Roy added, chuckling.
Johnny didn't react, seemingly lost in thought. Roy watched him for a minute,
then spoke softly, "You're going to see again. I know it."
"I wasn't thinking about my eyes." The dark haired man shrugged lightly.
"Whatever happens…happens. Won't do any good worrying about it."
Roy stared at his friend. He had expected anger, frustration, fear but not
this…this acceptance. "Johnny?"
Johnny raised his left arm up above him on the pillow, cradling his head.
Roy was the only one that he could say what he had to say. He began quietly.
"You know, when you stare death in the face and live, you realize you can
face anything after that."
Watching his friend, Roy had a hard time not losing it at that moment. He
reached over and took hold of his hand. Johnny held on tightly as he began
to talk about his ordeal.
###
ONE MONTH LATER
The DeSoto's deck and back yard were overflowing with guests. Most of the
search volunteers and staff from the hospital had managed to make it to the
Thank You barbecue. Music, laughter, burgers and dogs…it was definitely
a celebration.
Roy stood at the kitchen window, watching the guest of honor. Johnny was
standing over by one of the barbecues, chatting with Chili. Physically, he
had recovered completely form his ordeal. Emotionally, well, his friend was
working his way through it. He was due to start back at work the following
week. Not a moment too soon, thought Roy. A month of Brice was enough for
any man. He grinned.
"You look happy," JoAnne said as she reached behind him and gave him a hug.
He leaned over and gave her a kiss. She looked out the window and saw who
he had been looking at. "Why don't you go join them? I'll play bartender
for awhile."
Roy hesitated for a moment. The two friends seemed to be having a pretty
intense discussion. JoAnne held out three beers, gave him a look.
Roy grabbed the bottles, headed out towards Johnny and Chili. As he neared
them, Johnny noticed and gave him one of his crooked smiles. "Just the guy
we wanted to see!" he exclaimed.
"That's right," added Chili. "Johnny and I made a bet last week and we need
an impartial judge to decide who won."
"Impartial, huh?" Roy grinned as he handed them each a beer.
"Yeah, Roy. Don't let the fact that we're partners and work together and
are friends influence you at all," said Johnny with a wink.
"Hey, now," protested Chili.
Roy started laughing as he listened to the two men bickering. It was the
sweetest sound he had ever heard.