Pile-up on the 405

By Jane Woods

Author's note: As they were in the show, most of the street names used in fan fiction are made up. Although the 405 does exist, any resemblance it bears to the freeway in this story is purely co-incidental. Also, the very beginning of this story was once used as a basis of a round robin. The rest was written for Issue Two of the zine. Since the zine has now been out a while, I decided to go ahead and post the story.

Dixie looked away quickly. She did not want her frustration and impatience with him to show but she knew she was losing her ability to be rational. Finally she slammed the bottle of liquid soap down on the counter. "Kel, this just isn't working. Be reasonable. Let me call the Fire Department."

"No way, Dix!" he growled. "I got myself into this mess. I'll get myself out!"

"I don't think so, Doc," Lou, the maintenance man stated casually."You shoulda called us to start with."

"Called you? CALLED YOU?!! We've put in a half dozen requisitions for maintenance on this sink and nothing has changed. It still backs up!" Brackett exploded.

"Well, I gotta tell you, Doc, the Administration has put the Doctor's Lounge on a low priority. They want the areas that affect the patients taken care of first."

"Appease the paying customers and to hell with the employees -- is that it? Well you know what you can do with that philosophy!"

"Kel, it's not Lou's fault you stuck your arm down the pipe," Dixie jumped in. She knew she had to make him keep his temper under control or it would just make matters worse. "Isn't there anything else you can do?" she asked the maintenance man pleasantly.

"'Fraid not, Ma'am. I've taken the pipe apart and removed everything the doc's not stuck in. I cut anymore and I'm liable to go through more than pipe, if ya get my drift."

"Get him the HELL OUTTA HERE before I---"

"'Fore you what. Doc?" Lou laughed.

"Alright! That tears it. I'm calling the Fire Department!"

"But, Dix ----"

"Don't 'but Dix' me! I've had it with all this male ego nonsense. It's time to call in the professionals and I don't want another word about it. You got that, Doctor?" Dixie stormed over to the phone.

***

Station 51, Man trapped at Rampart General Hospital. Informant advises that the man is in the Emergency Department. Time out 10:15

"Station 51, KMG 365" Captain Stanley acknowledged and ran for the engine.

"Man trapped at Rampart?" Johnny couldn't believe it. "How could anybody get trapped at a hospital?"

"I can think of a dozen ways. Guess we'll find out when we get there."

"A dozen? Man, I can't even think of one."

Station 51. We have been updated on the victim at Rampart. Squad 51 proceed with rescue. Engine 51 stand by for another response.

Both Roy and the Cap acknowledged the dispatcher and Mike pulled the engine over awaiting the new destination. It was not a long wait.

Station 45 Station 36 Station 127 Pumper 14 Foam Truck 2 Engine 51 Squad 110 for Squad 51 Haz Mat 2 Multiple vehicle accident on the 405 with multiple injuries also be advised of an overturned tanker truck and a strong possibility of fire and toxic fumes. All units approach with extreme caution.

***

As Roy and Johnny followed a very noncommittal Dixie into the lounge, they heard Joe Early say, "It's no trouble at all, Kel. I have the surgical team standing by. Text book amputation by the looks of it."

"JOE, did I ever tell you -- there you two are. First one of you that laughs is a dead man. Do I make myself clear?"

"Makes a powerful lot of threats for a guy whose up to his armpit in a sink, don't he?" Lou was enjoying putting away the doctors' coffee and danishes.

"Jeez, Doc, too bad the engine was diverted to another call. Looks like we could use the Jaws Of Life here." Johnny tried not to giggle.

"GAGE"

"I've tried everything. I must have squirted a whole bottle of soap in there -- or tried to."

"Yeah, mostly it ran off or onto my shirt," Brackett griped.

"Well, Doc, you really just need to have the right equipment for a job like this," Johnny began. He opened up the box he carried.

"Yeah, like a plumber," Lou laughed. A glare from Dixie silenced him.

Johnny took out a large syringe.

"What the hell do you think you're going to do with that?" Brackett blanched.

"Now, now, Doc. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little ol' syringe now, are you?" Johnny teased. "This won't hurt a bit. I'm not even putting a needle on it." He grabbed the soap and loaded the syringe with it. The narrow tip of the syringe fit between Brackett's arm and the side of the drain and Johnny generously applied the soap all around Brackett's arm.

"How did you ever think of that?" Dixie wondered.

"Hey, we do this kind of thing all the time. You know kids are stupid enough to stick their arms and fingers into just about anything," Johnny explained.

"Kids of all ages," Dixie muttered.

"I heard that. Besides. I'm still stuck, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"Easy, easy. We aren't finished yet. That was merely phase one. Dr DeSoto, the patient is now well lubricated." He bowed to Roy.

"Thank you, Dr Gage," Roy said as he approached the sink. He had a length of IV tubing in his hand.

"What's that for?" Brackett demanded.

"Simple, Doc. It's suction that is holding you in there. We break the suction. You can pull your arm out." He slid the tubing into the sink drain next to Brackett's arm, put the other end up to his mouth and blew into it.

"It's working!" Brackett was amazed. He eased his arm out of the drain.

Both Joe Early and Lou gave the paramedics a round of applause.

"Don't clap. Just throw money," Johnny joked.

"I don't believe you guys did that so quickly. We've been struggling here for over two hours!"

"Well, if you had let me call them right away like I wanted to,"Dixie was exasperated.

"Dix, all the stuff they used was laying around here -- why didn't you just -----"

"I'm not trained in rescue work! I told you to call people that were! They know how to do this. I'm trained as a nurse! Don't call upon me for rescue work. Now the next time you need some blood drawn though, by all means, give me a call!" With that she stormed out of the lounge.

"Uh oh," Johnny said quietly.

"Uh oh, is putting it mildly, Johnny," Brackett said. "Look, I'd like to thank you fellas ---"

Just then Mike Morton pushed the door open and poked his head into the room. He looked a little confused. "I tried to tell Dixie something and she bit my head off and this is an emergency!"

"What is it, Mike?" Brackett asked, washing the excess soap off his arm and shooing Early away.

"There's been a pile up on the 405. LA County Fire Department dispatch just called and told us to be ready for multiple traumas. The first two are on their way in via Life-Flight. I've got Carol on the base station at the moment and Personnel is calling in all off duty ER people. It looks like a big one. Oh, guys -- the dispatcher said as soon as you were free you should report to the incident. They said to take the northbound on ramp at 14th Street and report to the Battalion Chief."

"Let's MOVE, people," Brackett commanded.

***

Traffic was backed up on 14th Street as they made their way to the on-ramp.

"Do you believe this," Johnny asked in frustration as they threaded their way through the backup.

"I'm afraid we ain't seen nothin' yet," Roy said sadly.

"I know," Johnny agreed. "They called out a hell of a lot of manpower for this one. Why can't people learn to drive slowly when it's wet or foggy like it is today. On the way to work somebody almost spun out in front of me right on a surface street. I can't imagine what the freeway was like."

"We're about to find out, Pal," Roy told him as a CHP officer waved him onto the on-ramp.

Roy pulled the squad up onto the freeway. The scene was somewhat surreal and had a post- apocalyptic feel to it. The fog was still clung to everything in stubborn patches. The overcast sky made everything look grey and ghostly. This had obviously been a chain reaction crash and there were crumpled and overturned vehicles in a wild disarray as far as the eye could see in every direction.

"My God!" Johnny gasped as Roy eased the squad to a stop near the Battalion Chief's car which appeared to be the command post.

They decided to report to the Incident Commander before they took any equipment out of the squad in case they were redeployed to another area.

"What the hell happened?" Johnny asked McConnike, momentarily forgetting protocol in the face of this disaster.

"Gage, DeSoto," McConnike greeted them solemnly. "Boy it's a hell of a mess. The original TA was in the southbound lane. This one is caused by rubberneckers. Between the two it looks like we have over a mile of accident in both directions. I've got the southbound pretty well covered and I have units working each end of this one. This drizzle has reduced the chance of fires a little but I need people to help the CHP check these cars for victims. It's pretty damn quiet, though," he added sadly, meaning that he was not hearing any live victims calling for help.

"I've got squad 45 working their way to us from the other lane. I want two teams working this area in case anyone has to ride into the hospital with a victim." Just then the Chief's handy talkie demanded his attention. "Wait over there til I see what this is all about." McConnike motioned to the other side of his station wagon and picked up his handy talkie to check on the report and to monitor the progress being made by the other teams working the incident.

Once they were on the other side of the station wagon they could see through the fog a little better. They could now clearly see that one of the overturned vehicles was a school bus. Roy's heart skipped a beat and he involuntarily grabbed Johnny's arm.

His touch was as cold as ice. Johnny looked at him with confusion then followed his line of vision to the school bus. "What would a school bus be doing on the freeway at this hour? I thought that school started around eight."

"Field trip," Roy said stonily. "Chris' class had a field trip today. I signed the permission slip myself."

Johnny had never seen his partner look like this. He was almost afraid Roy would lose it. He didn't have any kids so he knew he couldn't really understand what Roy was going through but that school bus was eerily quiet. "Let me go check it out."

Johnny approached the bus. There was a CHP officer with a can of black spray paint spraying a circle on the bus.

"What's the story with this bus?" he asked. "Are the kids all right?"

"There weren't any kids on it. Just a driver returning from his morning run. He - ah - he didn't make it."

"Are you sure?!" Johnny's back was up. There were certain criteria that had to be met in order to call a code-F in the field. He was pretty certain this cop was not as qualified as he was to assess the situation and he wanted to take a look.

"I'm sure," the cop said. Johnny was now close enough to see he looked a little green around the gills. "His body is behind the wheel but I didn't see his head any place. A fifteen inch steel pipe from that flatbed truck came through the windshield. Nothin' anybody can do for this poor bastard. Hope to hell he never knew what hit him."

Johnny was suddenly very aware that he'd indulged in a big breakfast as his stomach flipped over. Decapitation was one of the criteria by which death could be declared in the field. He nodded to the cop and returned to Roy. "No kids were on the bus," he told him, hoping Roy didn't think to ask about the driver.

Roy just breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the Battalion Chief's car. Suddenly Brice and Bellingham seemed to materialize out of the fog. Brice strode purposefully up to the chief.

Both Roy and Johnny thought that the disorganization of this scene was probably driving Brice crazy. They each took morbid pleasure in the thought.

"Sir," Brice addressed McConnike in brisk tone. "We have located a second overturned tanker truck. This one is in this lane."

Roy and Johnny came to attention as did McConnike. "I'll call for a second hazmat unit. Any idea what it's hauling?"

"That won't be necessary, sir. The cargo is milk but the----"

"Are you sure?" McConnike demanded.

"Yes sir. By the shape of the tank we were able to ascertain that the cargo was not pressurized as would be the case if the truck were carrying a flammable or corrosive substance," Brice reported.

"And 'Southland Dairy' was painted on both the tank and the cabdoor," Bellingham said under his breath to Roy and Johnny.

"Milk!" McConnike almost yelled. "If it was only carrying milk, why did you come up here with your shorts in a knot?!"

"Well sir, the driver is trapped in the cab," Brice pretended not to be insulted.

"Okay," McConnike sighed. "Let's get the man out."

"Sir, the cab and tanker have jack-knifed and separated. It appears that the cab rolled over several times. Both doors are badly damaged and the windows are small, however, someone as thin as Gage could probably climb through to further assess the victim. I would suggest removing the windshield as a means of extraction, however."

"All right. Gage, you work with Bellingham. Brice, you and DeSoto work your way south in search of victims. The CHP has gone through and done a preliminary car check. The cars are marked with spray paint. The black paint means there's either no one in there or no one that can be helped. Don't waste your time with it. Concentrate on the ones with white paint. If there's no paint at all it means that CHP missed the car altogether but that's not too likely."

"We left our equipment by the truck. We'll take yours, DeSoto," Brice commanded.

Even McConnike muttered under his breath about Brice but they all had a job to do so they went to work.

"Where's this truck, Bob?" Johnny asked taking off in the direction that Brice and Bellingham had come from. He knew he was almost sprinting and the pudgy paramedic would have trouble keeping up. It angered him that Brice had taken over and gotten him and Roy split up. He and Roy knew each other so well that they worked in perfect harmony. He didn't like the idea of having to get used to working Bellingham until he realized that Roy was stuck with Brice. An evil smile touched his lips. He heard Bellingham puffing to keep up and he slowed down a little. He even considered letting Bellingham lead since he knew where the truck was but he was sure that, even in this fog, he'd be able to find an overturned tanker truck.

Many of the cardoors were opened on vehicles that they passed. Johnny assumed that these people were not hurt and were herded to a safe place off the freeway by the CHP so that their reports could be taken. The damage to most of them did not look all that serious. They must have at least slowed down to gawk at the accident in the northbound lane. It was still evident that a huge chain reaction crash had taken place.

***

Things were a bit more grim in the direction that Roy and Brice had been assigned. The school bus and the flatbed truck that had spilled its load of steel both had the tell tale black circles indicating death. They came upon several other cars or what had once been cars with black paint markings as well. Neither of them spoke as they continued to search for someone that they could help. Suddenly Brice called out. "Hold it, DeSoto, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Roy didn't want to admit he'd nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound.

Brice didn't answer but went up to one of the cars that was marked with a black circle. Roy followed him. They had to lay on the pavement to peer inside the crushed Chevy Malibu. They reached in the window and checked the pulse of the woman in the passenger seat. She had none. Since there was no blood inside the car it told the paramedics that she had been killed instantly. Brice went around to check on the driver. The story was the same.

"Come on, Brice," Roy said around the lump in his throat. "There's nothing we can do here."

"No! I'm certain I heard something. There! Did you hear it?"

"I"m not sure. What did it sound like?" Roy didn't think he had heard anything but he almost hoped he was wrong. Still, this vehicle had been flattened when the steel pipes became airborne and scattered on the freeway. There wasn't much hope anything could still be alive in the two feet of space this car now provided.

Brice reached into the car and felt around. His hand closed on something and he pulled it out. It was a bright yellow diaper bag. "That's what I heard. I knew it! DeSoto there's a baby in here somewhere."

Roy reached for his handy Talkie "Battalion 14 this is squad 51."

"Go ahead, 51"

"We need some cutting tools. A K-12 and a Jaws of Live. We've found an infant alive in the wreckage of a blue Chevy Mailbu about 100 yards from your location."

"10-4, 51. I'll get someone to your location."

He heard Captain Stanley say that they were now available. He didn't listen to anymore conversation. Brice appeared to be trying to rip the car apart with his bare hands -- just like Johnny would have done. It appeared that he was once more to be the voice of reason. He hoped Brice would be more inclined to listen than Johnny ever was.

Brice was on his stomach on the ground. He was reaching into the wreck groping around for the baby. He was barely able to reach between the front bucket seats and into what had been the backseat.

"Take it easy, Brice. Help's on the way," Roy cautioned as he squatted next to him.

Brice pulled his hands out of the car to try and adjust his position to get more leverage. His hands were covered with blood. Since neither of the people in the front seat had lived long enough to bleed much, they knew it had to belong to the baby.

"I don't think this child can wait for that, DeSoto," Brice spat angrily and angled himself farther into the vehicle.

The volume of blood loss was definitely not a good sign for an infant. Roy felt as angry as Brice had acted. He also felt somewhat helpless. There was not enough room for him to try and crawl in and help. He did not hold out much hope for the baby's survival but if Brice really had heard something just maybe......

Captain Stanley, Marco and Chet ran up to the car. They had the cutting equipment needed to gain access to the car. Roy pulled the reluctant Brice back as the firemen went to work cutting the roof off the car and peeling it back. They had to yank the back seat out to find the canvas baby bed which was now on the floor of the back seat. They pulled that out and found the baby underneath it. There was evidence of a lot of blood loss here. The baby was blue and not moving. The unrestrained baby become a projectile during the crash and had been thrown against something that had been made out of metal. The skull injury that she received was massive and probably not survivable.

Brice grabbed the battered little girl and laid her on the pavement. Desperately he searched for signs of life. Finding none, he began CPR. The bloodsoaked floor of the backseat told Roy that his efforts were probably useless but he assisted for as long as it made sense to do so. He looked up at the other men from Station 51. Each one knew that Brice's efforts were futile but the loss of the baby profoundly affected them as well. Captain Stanley nodded to Roy.

"Brice, that's enough," Roy tried to sound authoritative but his voice cracked with emotion. "She's gone."

"No, DeSoto!!!" he screamed as he took another deep breath to continue breathing into the child. "She WAS alive. I heard her!! I heard her!"

"That may be, but she's gone now. There's nothing more you can do for her. You did your best but, as we all know, sometimes that's just not enough. We have to get back to looking for people that we can help," Roy urged gently.

"Damn it, DeSoto! I got to her as quickly as I could. She was alive. She was alive!!!!!!"

Roy let him yell. Sometimes you just needed to yell.

Roy picked up the baby.

Marco fished a baby blanket out of the diaperbag and handed it to Roy turning away quickly before anyone could see that his eyes were glistening.

Roy wrapped the baby in the blanket. It wasn't that long ago that he was wrapping his own babies in blankets. His hands shook. He knew that he should cover the baby's face but he just couldn't do it. He laid the baby on her mother's lap. He saw Marco bless himself out of the corner of his eye. Chet also had his back turned and the Cap looked down the freeway in search of another job to do. It was better to be busy.

Brice still knelt on the pavement. His shirt and hands were smeared with the baby's blood. His jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed in something akin to hatred. This was not a side of the persnickety paramedic Roy had ever seen.

***

Meanwhile, Johnny had finally come upon the truck. The tanker was completely upside down and separated from the cab. The cab was several yards away on its side. The engine part of the cab had flattened the guardrail and nosed out over the street that freeway passed over. From the wheels forward nothing at all supported the heavy truck. If it had slid another few feet it would have gone over the edge. As it was it was in a very precarious position.

"Jeez!" Johnny swore. "This is gonna need to be tied down --- somehow."

"This Peterbilt is a pretty heavy cab. It'll take you crawling in the window with no problem," Bellingham promised.

"Easy for you to say," Johnny muttered, as he climbed up the underbelly of the truck to the passenger side of the cab which was now up in the air.

The window was opened and he eased himself inside the cab.

"I was afraid you guys weren't coming back," the driver puffed weakly. "Hey, you're not the same guy."

"No," Johnny said lightly, "I'm the skinny guy that gets to crawl into all the small spaces."

"I used to be skinny once. All it takes is a few years of diner food and pie to cure ya," the driver grinned.

"I'll take that under advisement," Johnny told him, as he gently lowered himself down to where the driver was crumpled behind the huge steering wheel and against the other door. He took every precaution to not step on the man. "So, do you hurt anywhere?" Johnny acted as casual as he could. He knew it was possible that the driver did not know his cab was hanging off an overpass and he did not want him to panic.

"My neck. I always thought whiplash was a disease made up by people looking to sue somebody. My arms might be a little banged up too," he admitted sheepishly. "I held onto the wheel for all I was worth but even with all this excess weight I've picked up, there wasn't all that much I could do to hold her steady. I kept thinking -- 'thank God I quit that job I had haulin' nitro'."

Johnny just grinned. The driver seemed to be quite a character. It was unlikely he could have done much to prevent himself from ending up where he had ended up. "That would have been much worse," Johnny agreed, not wanting to think about what could have happened if a truck carrying nitro had overturned on a busy freeway. "You have a cut on your forehead too," Johnny mentioned, although the cut looked superficial. The man did hold his head at an odd angle.

"Don't worry about my head," the driver laughed. "Nothin' can get through my skull. I have a steel plate thanks to the US Army and that little vacation they sent me on to Southeast Asia. Send me clear around the world and what do they have me doin' -- driving convoy. Truck stops really suck there though," the driver laughed at his own joke while Johnny checked him out.

He was certainly alert and oriented. After a preliminary exam Johnny hollered out to Bellingham, "Bob, I need a C-collar and some arm splints. Also we'll need a backboard here and some extraction tools. We'd better call for more manpower."

Bellingham had climbed up far enough on the truck to look into the window so he could communicate with Johnny. He handed him down his handy talkie. "Here, you call for back-up and I'll get the equipment."

Johnny took the HT from him. "Battalion 14, this is squad fifty- er forty five."

"Go ahead, 45," McConnike responded.

"We need to have a windshield cut out to remove this victim. Also, it might not be a bad idea to secure this vehicle in some way as we are pretty close to the edge of the overpass."

Johnny heard McConnike acknowledge him and assign some help but he didn't pay too much more attention as Bellingham was now leaning in the window with the cervical collar. Bob tossed the collar down to him. He caught it but glared at Bellingham. He was trying not to jar the patient in any way. He carefully placed it around the driver's neck. Then he reached up for the splints. "Lean in farther and hand them to me," he hissed.

Bob complied.

When Johnny had the splints in place he told Bellingham that he was ready for the backboard. He wanted to have the driver ready to move once the windshield was cut out of the truck.

"Ah, Gage," Bob said hesitantly, "I think we have a little problem here."

"What's that?" Johnny asked without looking up.

"I - ah - I seem to be stuck here."

This time Johnny's head shot up to gaze at the other paramedic in shock. Bellingham was half in and half out of the window. He struggled but appeared to be wedged tightly. "I don't believe this," Johnny swore angrily.

***

Once the engine crew was called away, Brice seemed to come to a bit. He got up and walked over to the edge of the freeway. He seemed to be staring at nothing but Roy understood what he was feeling. They had all felt that way at some time or other. He hoped to give Brice a private minute to recover but his handy talkie squawked requesting paramedics to tend some minor injuries farther down the road. He walked up to Brice hesitantly. "We have to go," he said quietly.

"Why DeSoto?!" Brice suddenly flared angrily.

Roy was taken aback. "There's injured people----"

"I did everything right. Dammit!" Brice yelled.

Roy realized that Brice was not questioning why they had to go. In fact, it was unlikely he'd even heard him say that. "Brice," he began but was interrupted.

"I should have been able to save her. I got her out of the wreck. I did exactly what they taught us to do. There was no reason -----"

"Brice!" Roy said more forcefully. "There was a reason. That child's head injuries were not compatible with life. You could not have saved her." All the rhetoric they had been taught in training took on a whole new meaning in the field. It was hard to lose any patient but when the patient was a child, it was excruciatingly painful.

"I did everything right," Brice repeated. His voice cracked with raw emotion.

"You did," Roy agreed. "You did all you could do -- all anyone could do. Sometimes it's just out of our hands."

"I'm not a religious person, DeSoto," Brice spat.

"Neither am I, Brice, but you do this job long enough you realize that something bigger than ourselves is calling the shots. Sometimes we lose a patient. We do our best but it isn't enough."

"So you want something else to blame," Brice accused angrily.

"No, not to blame. There's a lot of times that we don't lose a patient. Sometimes a patient will survive against all odds. Even the doctors are amazed. They can't take the credit and neither can we. It's part of a bigger plan. By the same token, when we've done everything right, everything that can be done for a patient and we still lose them, we can't take the blame. It's that bigger plan again."

"What they hell kind of plan involves the death of a baby?!!" Brice screamed.

Roy could see the tears rolling down his cheeks even though Brice wiped them away by pretending to adjust his glasses.

"Look at it this way, the baby is with her parents. The family is together. That's the way I deal with it," Roy said quietly.

Brice took a deep breath to calm himself. The image of the family remaining together was strangely comforting. Logic told him that the child had been severely injured and would have faced years of painful rehabilitation. Even at that, she may not have ever fully recovered from her injuries. Certainly quality of life was important. That would never stop him from fighting with every ounce of strength to maintain life in a patient but it might make it a little easier to face it when every ounce of his strength was not enough. "I suppose you think I'm an idiot for blubbering like this," Brice accused Roy, who was waiting patiently for him to get his act together.

"Brice, I think any guy who is not affected by the death of a baby should get the hell out of this line of work. Speaking of which, we have a call." Roy waved the handy talkie at him.

"Well then, what are we standing around here for," Brice snapped. "I swear, DeSoto, you're picking up some of Gage's slovenly habits." Brice strode off in the direction they had not yet covered.

Roy wanted to kill him. Things were back to normal.

***

By this time, it was getting hot in the cab of the truck now that Bellingham was cutting off their fresh air supply. Johnny's shirt was quickly soaked with sweat and was clinging uncomfortably to him. Johnny looked up at the trapped paramedic and shook his head in disgust.

"I feel kind of like Winnie the Pooh," Bellingham grinned.

"Who?" Johnny asked in complete bewilderment.

"Winnie the Pooh. You know the bear who gets stuck in Rabbit's hole and...." Bellingham stopped talking for a minute when he noticed that Johnny was looking at him like he had two heads.

"It's a play, well, a kid's story. The Rampart Players put it on for the kids in pediatrics occasionally. I usually play Pooh. Never thought I'd do it in real life, though."

"Who are the Rampart Players?" the driver asked. He was way past uncomfortable now and he wanted to think about something else. Anything else.

"Oh, a bunch of people most of whom at work at Rampart General for their real jobs but do plays for the kids in our spare time. Nurses mostly but there's a few orderlies and me. And Doctor Early always plays piano for all the performances," Bellingham babbled on happily.

Johnny rolled his eyes at the driver to show he thought Bellingham was a few beers short of a sixpack. This was the first he'd ever heard of the Rampart Players, although he did know that Bellingham always played Santa at the Department Christmas Party. He figured it was his build not his acting ability that had landed him the role.

"You ought to join us, Gage. It's lots of fun, the kids love it and it might cure your stage fright."

"Who says I have stage fright?" Johnny argued, "I'm just not an actor, is all. So tell me, Bellingham, if you want to be an actor, why are you a fireman?"

"Because I didn't want to be a plumber," Bellingham stated as if that explained everything.

"Huh?" Johnny asked, wiping the sweat out of his eyes.

"I come from a long line of plumbers. I'd rather be a fireman. I like people. Like to help them, you know?"

"Like you are now?" Johnny quipped.

"Hey, Johnny, no fat jokes. I can't help being fat any more than you can help being skinny."

"I'm not skinny. I'm wiry," Johnny argued.

"Whatever. We all are what we are. Might as well just accept it. Nobody can help their metabolic rate and there's no point moping around about it. Life's too short. You just find something you love and you do it. To hell with the naysayers," Bellingham went on philosophically.

If he had any more to say he never got a chance to say it. "Tell me I'm not seeing what I'm seeing," Captain Stanley's voice was full of disbelief as it filtered through the handy talkie. Chet and Marco could be heard laughing in the background.

"'Fraid so, Cap," Johnny sighed. "I have an injured man in here, too. Looks like rippin' our the windshield is our best bet for extraction."

"That's what Brice figured," Bellingham put in.

"I DON'T CARE," Johnny yelled then caught himself. "I don't care what Brice figured. Besides with you jammed in the window it's our only option." Johnny wasn't about to let Brice be in control of his rescue. Brice had to be the most annoying guy on the face of the planet. Johnny glanced up at Bellingham who was hanging down from the window which was over his head. 'Well maybe other than Bellingham,' Johnny corrected his thinking. Those two deserved each other.

Outside the cab Stanley continued to shake his head in disbelief.

Chet smirked to Marco, "I ought to find a pebble to shoot at Bellingham's butt. Who can resist a target like that?"

"You can," Marco said forcefully. "We gotta concentrate on getting the driver out." Although the sight of Bellingham stuck in the window with his feet dangling helplessly in the air was comical at first, Marco had not fully recovered from the last rescue. He wanted to keep busy so he didn't have to think about it.

"Okay, Gage, we're going to pop the windshield. I don't see a way to get a blanket in there to protect you guys from flying glass, though," Captain Stanley called.

"I can cover the driver with my turnout coat," Johnny hollered.

"There's a blanket stuffed under the passenger seat," the driver told him. "Never know what you might run into on the road."

"Okay. Hold on a sec, Cap, we got a blanket in here. Give me a minute to get it in place," Johnny called.

Carefully he stood up and pulled the blanket from under the passenger seat. He opened it up and handed one side to Bellingham. "Here you go, Winnie," Johnny said shaking his head at the ridiculous situation that Bellingham was in. He'd never live it down.

Bellingham grinned and took the side of the blanket. "Okay, pull the rest over you and the victim," Bellingham instructed.

"You mean the original victim. Looks like you're a victim now too," Johnny grinned. This would give Chet months of story fodder and keep the pest off his back. Now that help was here, things looked less grim to Johnny. Still, he'd be glad to get the driver out and start treatment on him.

When the blanket was in place Stanley turned to Chet who was ready with the power tool. "Okay, Chet, climb up there carefully. In fact, let's get a safety harness and rope and tie him off, Marco. Writing up Bellingham's incident is going to be more than enough paperwork without Chet going splat on the highway down there."

"Gee, Cap," Chet said sourly, "I'm touched by your concern."

"Better than a being touched by concrete after a twenty foot drop," Stanley pointed out.

"You know, Cap," Chet panted as he struggled into the harness, "when you're right, you're right."

"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking, Kelly."

Once Chet was in the harness, Marco tied off his line to a part of the truck that was still safely on terra firma. "Okay, Chet. Go ahead."

Chet climbed up onto the big rig. He positioned himself on the fender that was high in the air and leaned over the hood for leverage. He went to work on the place where the windshield met the roof. The truck was sturdy he had trouble making the metal give. When it finally did there was such force involved that he lost his footing, parted company with the truck entirely and went swinging out over mid air.

Marco and the Cap expertly worked the line and he was quickly able to right himself and clamor back into position. There was now a gap between the roof and the windshield big enough for him to stick his gloved hand into. He worked at it till he was able to peel the glass away and toss it back onto the pavement. "Heads up!" he called to warn the men on the ground. "Okay, Gage, what do you need?" Chet forced his voice to be calm even though he had seen his entire life flash before his eyes as he swung out over the highway that passed under the freeway.

"I need a backboard, in fact, we could probably use that stokes that 45's stuff is in," Johnny said flinging the blanket out of his way.

Soon he had the equipment he asked for and he and Chet eased the driver out of the truck. "I'll take care of him," Johnny said to Chet. "You guys can deal with Winnie the Pooh there."

"Winnie the Pooh?! That's a good one, Gage," Chet admitted in awe of Johnny's unusual wit. "Hear that, Bellingham? Gage called you Winnie the Pooh."

"I don't mind, Kelly." Bellingham was unfazed. "You do a pretty mean Peter Pan yourself. That flight would have brought the house down in any theater on the country."

"Shut up, Bellingham. How the hell did you get into this mess anyway?" Chet grumbled.

"Hey, if you worked with a great cook like Joey Divino you'd look like this too. Boy, what that guy can do with fettuccine would bring tears to your eyes."

"Yeah, yeah yeah," Chet muttered crawling inside the cab trying to figure out how to free Bellingham. He tried both pushing and pulling on the pudgy paramedic but he didn't budge an inch.

"Hey, Chet," Marco called. "The cap is helping Johnny and he sent me to help you out. Any ideas?"

"Blasting caps," Chet called back in disgust. "I can't move him."

"Maybe we should cut it off," Marco hollered up to Chet.

"Cut what off," Bellingham gasped.

"The door, Bellingham, the door. I think you're right, Marco. He'll be easier to work with on the ground. There's no leverage up here."

So Chet cut the door off the truck. Marco had found a ladder on a near-by painter's van. Once the door was separated from the truck Marco guided Bellingham down the ladder to the ground.

The ambulance crew had just walked a gurney in and they loaded the driver onto it. Johnny had established an IV as per Rampart's instructions so he left with the ambulance crew. The ambulance was parked at the edge of the pile-up.

Cap walked over to where Bellingham now stood. He was on the ground but the door was still around his waist.

"Nice tutu," Cap muttered.

Instead of being insulted Bellingham made a clumsy attempt at a pirouet.

"You know, I always thought Gage was the most accident prone guy in the Department. But he's got nothing on you, Bellingham!" Stanley vowed in frustration.

"What do we do now, Cap?" Marco asked.

"I have an idea," Chet said evilly, menacing Bellingham with the Jaws of Life.

"Don't tempt me, Chet. No, I guess we walk him back to the engine and hose him down. If we get him wet and slippery enough we should be able to work it off him," the cap decided.

"But, Cap," Marco objected. "That means we'd have to walk him past all those Chippies and civilians. The Fire Department will be the laughing stock of the whole County!!!"

"Hey, Lopez, don't you think that after a thing like this everybody could use a good laugh?" Bellingham asked.

"You know, Bellingham," Stanley broke out in laughter, "you are exactly right. Let's get out of here." In this line of work people did need emotional outlets like laughter. That was why firestation pranks were not only tolerated, they were encouraged. This was a prank Bellingham had played on himself. Chet started making jokes about hippos in tu-tus but Bellingham didn't seem to mind at all.

***

As it turned out, most of the injuries that Roy and Brice had been called upon to attend to were fairly minor. Even victims that were being transported to hospitals for ex-rays and follow up did not require the paramedics to go with them.

They were taking a short break, sitting on the guard rail that ran along side an on-ramp. Roy was glad that Brice did not have Johnny's predilection to fill all silence with conversation no matter how meaningless. Roy had noticed that many people who lived alone had this same affliction. Roy was the father of two children. He had come to appreciate silence wherever he could find it.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a CHP officer who had been controlling traffic on the street below the freeway. Traffic had really backed up now that the on-ramp was closed. "Hey Fire Department. You guys paramedics by any chance?"

"Yes we are," Roy was on his feet and immediately alert.

"We have complete gridlock down here and there's a woman in labor. I don't think this kid is going to wait for traffic conditions to improve."

Brice started running toward the officer. Roy called to McConnike on the handy talkie and asked that someone bring him the OB kit from the squad. Then he followed Brice down the on-ramp and into the traffic-choked street below. Problems on the freeway also spelled big trouble for the surface streets. Brice and the CHP officer were standing next to a yellow Subaru station wagon talking to a very excited man.

"There's no way to maneuver this car out of this traffic jam," Brice decided. "We'll have to deliver the baby right here. Why don't you fold down the back seat and we'll use it and the cargo area to operate in."

"You're going to operate!!!!" the father-to-be yelped with disbelief.

"That's just an expression," Roy took over, using more diplomacy than Brice would probably ever possess. "You get the seat folded down and let's help your wife lie down back there where she'll be more comfortable.

"I don't want to have my baby in the car. In fact, I don't even want to do this at all. Tommy, bring me home. I've changed my mind about the whole thing," the young woman vowed.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that, ma'am," Roy said sympathetically. "But we've been through this lots of times. Is this your first child?" He made conversation as he helped her out of the frontseat and into the back of the car.

"Yes - ahhhhhh," she gasped and nearly doubled over as a contraction hit her. Roy held her firmly.

"You're doing just fine. Don't worry," Roy assured her.

"I HATE YOU TOMMY JORDAN! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!" she screamed as Roy helped her into the back of the car and helped her lie down. Brice had already climbed in through the tailgate.

"Rosie?" the husband was shocked.

Roy stood up and took the husband aside. "That's pretty much of a natural reaction, don't worry about it. Before too much longer you'll have a beautiful new baby but between now and then she will probably want to kill you."

The confused young husband looked at the CHP officer who had called the paramedics in on the case.

"He's right," the officer assured him. "Me 'n my wife have four kids. I went into the delivery room with her each time. The last two times I wore my bulletproof vest and my helmet. Damn good thing too."

"You did the Lamaze thing. She made me go to the classes but I forget everything. I- I don't know what to do?" Tommy panicked.

"Don't worry, these guys do. Well if you don't need me any longer I'd better get back to traffic control."

"Okay, Officer," Roy said. "Now look. You can't go to pieces here. Your wife needs you. Do you understand me?"

A motorcycle CHP officer threaded his way through the backed up traffic both on the freeway and on the on-ramp and down to their position. "You DeSoto?"

"Yes."

"Your Chief asked me to get you this." The officer handed OB kit to Roy.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Good luck," the mounted officer called as he rode off.

"What do I do?" Tommy asked nervously.

"Just be supportive. You sit in the front seat and I'll scoot in back here."

Roy handed Brice the OB kit. Brice was already in contact with Rampart but they were so busy with victims of the pile-up that they didn't have much time for what appeared to be a routine delivery. Morton had informed him of that in no uncertain terms.

"DeSoto, this is a 39 week pregnancy. The mother appears to be dilated approximately 8 centimeters. Contractions are ten minutes apart," he reported.

"What do we do now?" Tommy asked.

"Now it's up to the baby," Roy told him.

"You're really going to deliver it right here?" Tommy was still not convinced.

"Yes we are," Roy assured him.

"I want my doctor!" Rosie screamed. "He'll be waiting for us at the hospital. Tommy, go call him!! Tell him where we are."

"Rosie, these guys ---"

"I want my doctor!!!!"

"You know, that's a real good idea." Roy concurred. "There's a convenience store just a short way down this road. Why don't you call the doctor's office and let them know what's going on. You have the number?"

"Yes. It's on a card in my wallet. You sure?"

"From this point on we do whatever the mom wants. Go on and call," Roy instructed.

"Call my mother too, Tommy," Rosie screamed as another contraction hit her.

"Contractions are five minutes apart now," Brice stated, "although we are not yet fully dilated."

"What do you mean -we," Rosie lashed out.

"Calm down, Miss --"

"What do you mean 'miss' someone in my situation had damn well better be a Mrs, don't you think?"

"I stand corrected, Mrs --?"

"Jordan. Rosemarie Jordan," Rosie panted.

"My name is Brice. That's DeSoto. You have nothing to worry about, Mrs Jordan. Everything is progressing exactly as it should. I notice the pillows in the car. Were you planning to have a Lamaze delivery?"

"We were. That is, I was. Tommy is such a wuss around anything like this - ahhhhhh."

"Breathe. Breathe as you were instructed. You need a focal point. Use my badge. Come on, you can get through this." Brice's voice was firm and did not allow the young mother-to-be to panic.

"That's easy for you to say. GOD DAMMIT!!! I want to push!"

"Not yet. You are not fully dilated -- I -- the sac has just broken, DeSoto and it now appears that patient is now fully dilated. With the next contraction you may go ahead and push."

Roy had taken over the bio-phone and was reported their progress to Rampart. He let Brice take complete charge of the delivery and even noticed that Brice was a tad bit less business like with the mother as time went on.

Tommy arrived back at the car just as the baby was crowning and was there to see his son born. "This isn't as gross as I thought it would be," he whispered to Brice. "Maybe we should do this again."

"This would probably not be the best time to suggest that to your wife," Brice advised.

Rosie was no longer combative or exhausted as she gushed over the baby. "You know," she finally said "we have never agreed on a name for him but after staring at your name tag for so long I think the name Brice is a great one. After all, he was conceived on our honeymoon at Bryce Canyon."

Tommy completely agreed. The ambulance they had called for arrived and soon the Jordan family was on its way to Rampart for routine follow-up.

Brice was busying himself gathering up their equipment.

"How about that, you have a namesake," Roy patted him on the back.

"Actually, Bryce Canyon is spelled with a "y" but I saw no reason to intrude upon the family with such a minute detail at this juncture."

"Brice, maybe you're human after all," Roy laughed. "They are releasing units. Let's get ourselves into Rampart and check up on baby Brice."

"Baby Jordan, DeSoto. Baby Jordan."

Roy just rolled his eyes and walked away. He did have the nagging feeling that bringing a baby into the world was exactly what Brice needed to do after what had happened earlier. There was definitely a bigger plan at work.

***

After a long, hard day, the Doctor's Lounge at Rampart was packed to the gills. Paramedics and Emergency Room staff traded stories about their experiences working on victims from the wreck. The final count was 92 vehicles involved. The crash caused 114 injuries, 35 of which were critical traumas that were divvied up between three hospitals. Due to the work of the paramedics in the field and the Emergency Room staffs involved all but two of those were now in stable condition. The crash did produce seven fatalities but had it not been for the trained paramedics on the scene the death toll would have been much higher. Brackett had announced this to the room earlier. Since he had once been dead set against the program this admission was not an easy one for him to make. Its significance was not lost on anyone in the room but soon conversation turned to other things as everyone chowed down on the sandwiches, coffee and donuts the cafeteria had sent up to feed the hungry crews.

One table in the room was occupied by Roy, Johnny, Bellingham and Chet. Chet had managed to cut his hand while freeing Bellingham and had to come to Rampart as his patient. Much of the attention here had centered on laughing at Bellingham's predicament. Bellingham took it all in stride but finally asked, "What have you done with Brice, Roy?"

"He didn't say where he was going, but my guess is he's in the nursery visiting with his new namesake. In the midst of all that chaos we delivered a baby," Roy grinned.

"A baby?" Johnny asked. This was the first he'd heard of this. More dramatic rescues and picking on Bellingham had monopolized most of their conversation.

Just then a nurse came into the lounge and approached their table. She was very pretty and her name was Jill. She was also the nurse who currently had Johnny's interest so he was very delighted to think she was joining them.

"Hi fellas. Johnny, Doctor Early asked me to tell you that Mr Stevens, the truck driver you brought in, is going to be just fine."

"Well, that's wonderful news. Isn't that wonderful news, guys?" Johnny beamed his classic Gage smile at her. He figured this would be a great chance to ask her out for Saturday night.

But while Chet and Roy muttered their agreement that the news was great, Jill turned to Bellingham. "We still on for Saturday night, Bob?"

"Sure are. I picked up the tickets yesterday."

"Great. You'll come by at the usual time?"

"I'll be there," he promised.

"I'm really looking forward to it. Well, back to the saltmines. See you later, fellas." Jill turned and left.

Both Johnny and Chet's jaws were on the floor so Roy asked for them, "What's happening Saturday night?"

"They are doing 'Guys and Dolls' at the Pasadena Playhouse and Jill and I are going to see it," Bob remarked casually.

"Have you and Jill been dating long?" Johnny asked through clenched teeth.

"On and off. Why do you look so surprised, Johnny? I date lots of the nurses."

"You do?! How? Why?"

"I keep tellin' ya, Gage, you're too skinny. Women like guys to have a little meat on their bones," Chet told him.

"Oh, shut up, Kelly," Johnny hissed.

Bellingham just smiled, "Well I'd better go find my partner before he alphabetizes all the babies in the nursery or something. See you guys later."

Johnny still had a look of disbelief on his face. Roy handed him another donut and he savagely took a bite out of it.

Bellingham got up and walked over to the sink to wash out his coffee cup. "You guys know this sink is backed up?" he asked.

Doctor Brackett just groaned figuring some of the laughter was about to head in his direction. Dixie got up from the table she'd been sharing with him and Dr Morton and went to join Bellingham at the sink. There was no way she was going to let anyone else take the fool thing apart. "You have no idea what we've been through with that sink, Bob," she told him.

"All you need to do is plunge it," he stated, opening up the cabinet under the sink and taking out the sink plunger.

"I tried that," Dixie explained with exasperation, joining him at the sink. "We've tried everything!"

"It's all in the technique," Bob grinned as he threw his weight into plunging the clog loose. Then he turned on the water and it ran freely down the drain. "See. All fixed."

"I don't believe it!! I tried that." Dixie was astonished.

"Well, Dixie, I'm afraid you just don't weigh enough to create enough power to get rid of the clog. You see, sometimes my weight comes in handy," Bob laughed.

Dixie shot an icy look at Dr. Brackett. He just knew he hadn't heard the last of this from her. He sighed and grabbed another donut too.

Editor's Note: Trying out a new story format. Let me know if you think it's easier to read.

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