Part Three

By Jane Woods

Barb and Lila sat back down near Cassie. They talked for a few minute then fell into a nervous silence. Barb was lost in her own thoughts when a deep sigh from Cassie got her attention.

“What’s wrong, Cassie?”

“Nothing....I was just hoping that Tink remembers to bring back pizza and beer when she comes. Or at least beer.”

“I know you’re thirsty,” Barb said sympathetically. “I’m afraid we’ll all have to try and hold out a little longer. How are you feeling?” she asked, again checking Cassie’s forehead. This may not be the correct paramedic method but it was the one her mother always used and it had always made her feel better when she was growing up.

“I’m okay,” Cassie lied in a weak voice. “Just so damn thirsty....”

“You will tell us if you stop feeling okay,” Barb urged.

“Sure...why not?”

“Old Yates here is becoming a regular paramedic, Kelly. Maybe you’d better worry about your job,” Crenshaw teased.

“Not me,” Barb laughed. “I have no desire to be a paramedic.”

“Me either. More work for no more money,” Crenshaw stated. “I don’t know how they get anyone to do it.”

“People do it because they want to, right, Cassie?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why do they want to?” Crenshaw asked. “Why did you want to, Kelly?”

“Easy. You get to..cut off guys’.... clothes,” Cassie gave her stock answer. Talking was causing her to become a little short of breath. She closed her eyes and hoped they wouldn’t ask her any more questions at the moment. She thought about the real reason she had become a paramedic It was something she had never told anyone.

There was a time, in her ill spent youth, that she reached a crossroads. She had been out of control at seventeen. Like every other seventeen year old on the planet, she knew it all. She had all the answers. She knew what she wanted and she was going to get it. What she wanted was to get out of the blue collar neighborhood that she had grown up in. She wanted no part of it or the people in it. The people in Bel-Air and up in the canyons, they knew how to live. It was the fast lane. The jet set. It was where the action was and she wanted in on it. Her poor grandmother had worn her knees out saying novenas for Divine Intervention, but Cassie, or Moon Beam, as she called herself in those days, wanted no intervention. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She had worked her tail off to win an international competition. The grand prize was a very hot, very expensive sports car. That Jag was her ticket to the big time. She knew where to be seen in it and before long she was moving in some very high circles. She had acquired herself a rich boy friend who was all the more intrigued by her refusal to divulge anything about herself. He assumed that she was ‘one of them’. She walked the walk, talked the talk, drove the car......

Bentley Beacham III, with his movie star good looks and a weekly allowance that would feed some third world countries for a month, captivated her completely. She was convinced that a perfect date was sitting around in a hot tub with him and his friends at the home of whichever set of parents were vacationing in Acapulco or Aspen. BB’s friends, the offspring of LA’s best known movers and shakers, all had perfect bodies, professionally styled hair and designer clothing but the main topic of conversation was usually complaints about the stinginess of those administering their trust funds or the rising price tag for a case of Dom Parignon. Far behind her now was the idea that fun involved stuffing 15 or 20 of your closest friends into GTO convertible and cruising Sunset Strip, or descending like a plague of locusts on one of the malls out in the Valley or even driving up to Malibu to gawk at the tourists who were gawking at the celebrities. Her new Gucci-clad friends would never know that she grew up thinking a really expensive outfit had a J C Penney label as opposed to the usual K-Mart ones. She’d maintain an air of mysterious rebellion and make herself fit in.

While Cassie had grown up with a certain amount of street smarts, she was really unprepared for the lifestyles of the rich and famous. While she steered clear of the hard drugs she could not avoid the drinking and maintain her status in the group. Before too long, speeding around in a fast car, three sheets to the wind, seemed to be perfectly normal behavior. She had cut her ties to the past. Her new friends, particularly her new boy friend were the only people that mattered to her. They were the only ones who cared about her. She was completely convinced of the fact.

That is, she was completely convinced until her drunken boyfriend wrapped her Jag around a tree. She could still remember every detail of the wreck. They took a curve too fast and spun out of control. They were both so drunk they thought the whole thing was funny until the impact.

She wasn’t sure if it had been the impact or the booze that had caused her to pass out but when she opened her eyes she was aware of two things. She felt awful and she was alone in the car. In a near state of panic she called to BB. Then she saw him. He was standing outside the car inspecting the damage.

He walked up to her. “Looks like it’s totaled, Babes, but not to worry. The insurance will cover it.”

“Your insurance? You were the one driving.”

“No, Dollgirl. It’s your wheels. Your insurance has to bite the bullet. Damn shame. This was a classic. I don’t know how you’ll ever find another one,” he said nonchalantly.

She was acutely aware of the fact that he had never asked about her condition. His only interest was in the car. She suddenly realized that his only interest had always been in the car. What a class A jerk she had been!

“I can’t afford another one. I couldn’t even afford insurance on this one.” She was simmering and he was too dense to even notice.

“Well, give your old man a sob story. It always works. He’ll get you another one.”

“I don’t have an old man.” Her anger was building. “He’s dead.”

“All the better. How long do you have to wait for the inheritance? We’ll need wheels for the festival next week and we can’t be seen in that low class mustang my dumbshit parents bought me. God, every pimply-faced burger flipper in LA can get one of those on credit. I don’t know what the hell they were thinking getting that common thing.” He reached down behind the crumpled seat and pulled another beer off the plastic ring that held a sixpack.

Suddenly the sound of a siren could be heard. “Oh shit, the fuzz. Look, kiddo, I was driving and I can’t afford another DWI or the assholes will yank my license. Get out and we’ll tell them you were at the wheel. They go easier on girls.”

“GO TO HELL!”

“What’re you talking about?” He was completely dumbfounded. He’d been denied nothing his entire spoiled life. He couldn’t fathom the idea that she would not go along with him.

For one thing, she wasn’t even sure that she could get out but she was sure that she would not take the fall for him. “No way, Turkey!”

“Moon Beam, you’re being completely unreasonable. Can’t you see what’s going on here?”

“Yeah I see. For the first time, I really see what’s going on here,” she said in a surly tone of voice.

The sirens were getting closer. “If you don’t do what I want, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again,” BB threatened.

“Suits me just fine, Dickweed.”

“You sound like one of those vulgar, low class types with that kind of talk!”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s because that’s what I am but I’ll tell you one thing, I’d rather be low class than no class like you and your phoney friends. Go ahead, run away. Wouldn’t want you getting in Dutch with Mumsie and Daddy. Go on - get outta my sight. You make me wanna puke!”

She did want to puke. She wasn’t sure if it was him, or the booze, or the crash, or the fact that she suddenly realized what a complete mess she had made of her life. She’d lost her old friends, she’d lost her new friends. She felt all alone in the world. The only person she cared about didn’t give a damn about her. No one gave a damn about her. She now realized how she had been spirally downward and that she had now hit bottom. She wasn’t all together sure she even gave a damn about herself anymore. Maybe she should just close her eyes and go to sleep. Forever. Some part of her knew that she had been hurt in the crash and that same part knew that it would be easy to just let go and that would be the end. Who’d care if she did? Who’d even notice?

Suddenly there were voices around her. She didn’t know them or really even understand what they were saying. Curiosity made her open her eyes. Everything was a blur. She couldn’t see much but she did recognize the shirt that the man talking to her wore. It was a Fire Department shirt. She ought to know. She’d had to iron her father’s shirts often enough. She glanced around. She didn’t see any engine. How did the firemen get here without a fire truck? Then she saw the rescue squad. They had never been as impressive to her as the rigs.

They were talking to her but she couldn’t understand their words. She just wanted to sleep. Suddenly they were easing her out of the car. It hurt. Again, their words were jumbled but their voices were kind. She finally understood them. They were saying that they would take care of her. Then she felt pricks in her arms. What the hell were they doing? What the hell kind of firemen were they?

She was actually starting to feel a little better. She could understand what they were saying but it was still hard to see. She was sure her eyes were swelling into a shiner or two. She’d had them before. She listened to what the men were saying. One seemed almost fatherly and put her at ease at once. The little kid in her still wanted to believe that Daddy could make everything all right. The other one was younger and was joking around with her.

Suddenly she felt sick. Very sick. They had her laying on the ground and the young one seemed to know what was happening. He rolled her over. Toward his partner. Firemen never change. The partner had been busy. He didn’t see what was happening and he didn’t move in time.

She was mortified. Here this guy was being so nice to her; was giving a damn about her when she was positive that no one did and that was how she repaid him! The younger guy just laughed and told her not to worry about a thing, that no one passed up the opportunity to barf on Roy.

“Roy?!” she said it out loud and Barb leaned closer to her.

“What did you say, Cassie? Is something wrong?”

“No, no I guess I was just dreaming or something...” She had not been dreaming. She had been remembering. Remembering something she could never quite remember. She still could not recall having seen their faces but now for the first time in all these years she knew who they were. The paramedics that gave a damn about her when she most needed it and had turned her life around. Because of them, she had jumped at the opportunity to become a paramedic herself. She felt that she owed a debt to be there when someone else really needed help. She hoped that she could make a difference to somebody too. She’d never embarrass Roy and Johnny by telling them any of this. They had probably long forgotten about that ditzy teenager Moon Beam that they had pulled out of a wreck years ago.

The small flashlight that Tinker carried in her mouth as she crawled through the air shaft, did not shed much light. Maybe she was glad. She might not like the things that were sharing the space with her. She never was big on bugs or lizards or mice. She shuddered and told herself to rein in her imagination.

The opening narrowed as she went along but she could still fit through it. It was really dark and disorienting though. Her knees and palms were all screaming in protest. They had been cut and scraped by the debris that was on the bottom of the shaft. Sticks, pebbles, the occasional pop top from a drink can all added to her torment.

She was crawling along as fast as she could with the light trained at the floor ahead of her so that she could try to avoid the largest and sharpest objects that were in her way. She never saw the smaller metal shaft that crossed the one she was in and she hit it head on. What little light there was turned a dusty grey which closed before her eyes like the aperture of a camera lens. She fell flat onto the bottom of the shaft as consciousness left her. The flashlight rolled away to the other side of the cross shaft.

Pidge and Captain Tacy were really getting antsy due to all the delays. Pidge kept looking at her watch. It had been nearly two hours since the crew had gone missing. Two hours! If any of them had been injured, they needed to get medical help. This was frustrating. Couldn’t the cops do anything? If the half assed attempt at beating the overgrown bushes in the yard of the factory was their idea of a search, she’d like to give them a not too subtle hint or two. Why wouldn’t McConnike call for more help? This was as bad as the Army. You knew that guys had been hit but they wouldn’t clear a chopper for rescue until they were sure there were no Cong around. Injured people couldn’t wait, damn it!

“I wish McConnike would be less interested in getting his sorry face on TV and more interested in finding Cassie and the others,” she spat bitterly.

“Calm down, Pidge. This is no time to lose it,” the captain warned.

“Oh no? I think it’s the perfect time to lose it. These guys need a bomb put under them and I’m about to put one there.”

“No you aren’t,” Captain Tacy roared in a tone usually reserved for Cassie or Crenshaw. “This is the price of being allowed to play with the boys. We have to play by their rules.”

“Well their rules SUCK! We need to do something and we need to do in now. They might be injured ---”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I do know that they are still here. No nutcase carried them off.”

“I agree with you there.”

Pidge stared hard at the Captain. What was she thinking? If she thought they were still on the grounds but that there was no real hurry to find them, then she must think ---- “Cap! They are NOT dead!”

“Of course not.”

“Then why isn’t anyone doing anything?!”

“Maybe, the truth of the matter is, that they just don’t know what to do other than to keep looking and covering the same ground over and over. Maybe there isn’t anything else to do.” Captain Tacy was feeling very tired, all of a sudden. This was an overwhelming situation, could anyone expect to feel anything except overwhelmed?

Tinker felt dizzy and a little nauseous when she woke up. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out but she could feel the large bump on the right side of her forehead. And it hurt. She had to get down flat on her stomach to see the flashlight. She tried to reach it but her arms were not long enough. She felt the crossing shaft to learn its shape and exact location. She had no desire to crash into it again.

She decided that she could just about squeeze under it. She moved forward carefully. The last thing she needed was to get stuck. It was a thought she should have never allow to enter her mind. All of a sudden, she could wriggle no farther forward and she could not go back.

She fought the panic she felt. She ignored her throbbing headache but she was losing control. The panic was winning. The flashlight was tantalizingly close but still out of reach. The more she struggled the madder and more panicky she got. Suddenly she drew some burst of energy from some hidden reserve and forced herself out from under the shaft to the other side.

Her freedom came with a price. She felt the metal from the shaft bite into her shirt and her skin and rip both from her body from the back of her shoulder to her waist. She was hit with a hot, burning pain. It took her breath away. She couldn’t even scream. She could feel her blood soaking what remained of her shirt. She couldn’t imagine how many germs called this place home but she was sure they’d all much rather move into her open wound. She grabbed the flashlight. This time she kept it in her hand and shined it around as she crawled along the shaft as fast as she dared.

It seemed that she crawled for miles but all of a sudden the tunnel ahead of her was not as dark. The musty smelling air she had become accustomed to now had a lighter, fresher smell. She picked up speed. Finally she came to a large metal grate. Beyond that grate was daylight and fresh air. Freedom. She wasn’t sure where she was but she was sure she could not force this grate by herself in her present condition. She took a deep breath and called for help.

To her complete amazement someone appeared at the grate within a few seconds of her call. It was a cop.

“Are you one of the missing firemen?” he asked in an official voice.

She fleetingly wondered if she was actually the same species as this blithering idiot but she reined in her anger. “If you can get this grate open, I won’t be missing any more. And hurry, my friends are still trapped and one of them is hurt.”

There was something wrong at Station 51. It was so wrong that Johnny could almost taste it but it took him till mid-afternoon before he could put his finger on what it was. It was Chet. He’d been sullen and stand-offish all day. Stranger yet, he’d been silent. Johnny had mentioned it to Roy while they had been on a supply run to Rampart. Roy had chalked it up to the situation. He had admitted that it had even been getting to him, so much so that he had found himself snapping at his kids for no reason on his days off. He told Johnny to just leave Chet alone and let him work it out. They each had to find their own ways to deal with this or they’d all go nuts.

Johnny thought about what Roy had said. He knew that, like Barb Yates, Roy had someone else to worry about besides himself. He also realized from talking to Barb that this was much harder on the wives. So Joanne was probably on Roy’s mind a lot. But Chet was like him with only himself to worry about. Firemen seldom worried about themselves. They all had this idea that they were indestructible. Maybe they were kidding themselves. Maybe it was the way you had to think to do a job that called for you to go into a situation that common sense told you to run away from. Like a fire. What was happening to the Department now was probably undermining that belief a little. In an emergency situation you just acted. You didn’t have time to worry about your personal safely. But every minute on duty was not an emergency. You weren’t suppose to have to worry about your safety at those times. Now they were in danger every minute they were on duty and most of that time, they did have time to think about it. It was bothering everyone but he didn’t see why it should bother Chet more than anyone else. He thought that there might be something else wrong with Chet. He thought back over their last shift and he decided that he knew what it was. He went looking for him. He saw him out in the back lot just starring off into space. He walked up to him.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with that snake,” he said simply.

“Yeah,” Chet snorted with disgust. “Even Kelly’s not stupid enough to mess around with a live snake.”

Since Chet had been able to quote the cap so precisely, Johnny knew that Chet had been playing the incident over and over in his head on his days off, allowing it to eat away at him. He knew it because it’s exactly what he would have done. Had done, on many occasions.

“I knew even before, when everyone thought it was rubber.”

“You did? How?”

“Because you said so,” Johnny said simply.

Chet looked away so Johnny could not see his reaction but he noticed a subtle change in his demeanor. He seemed relieved. Less morose than he had been.

“Well no one else believed me,” Chet finally said.

“Chet, everyone is so caught up in this thing that nobody can think straight. Nobody even knows what they are saying or that they are acting like..like--”

“Complete assholes,” Chet supplied.

“Something like that. The point is, the only way things are going to get back to normal is for this guy to be caught.”

“And you’re the guy who's going to do it?” Chet was skeptical.

“I’m sure going to try. I might be able to use a little help, though. What do you say? Even Sherlock Holmes needed a Watson.”

“You and me, Holmes and Watson?”

“More like Abbott and Costello,” said a voice behind them.

They spun around to see Mike Stoker stepping outside. He slid his dark glasses on, as had now become his habit in the sunlight, although it was hardly bright by this time of day.

“Jeez,” Chet complained bitterly. “Give a guy a pair of shades and all of a sudden he thinks he’s Elvis.”

“The cap said to find you guys. It’s dinner time,” Mike said.

“So you found us. Now make like Elvis and leave the building,” Chet snarled.

Mike was undaunted. He threw his head in an exaggerated gesture. “Thank ya. Thank ya very much,” he said. Then he turned and left.

“You don’t sound a thing like him, ya dork. Is he on some kind of medication?” Chet asked Johnny.

“Not that I know of,” Johnny confessed following Chet into the station. He wondered if it was the end of the world. Chet wasn’t talking and Stoker was. With all the strain that they’d been under it was no wonder that everyone was acting nuts.

As they passed through the apparatus bay the alarm sounded.

“Engine 45 Squad 51 for Squad 45 Assist with the search for missing Fire Dept personnel at the old CalTex apparel factory 1423 Wellington Road. Cross street Applegate. 1-4-2-3 Wellington Road. Time out 16:47"

Roy and Johnny exchanged worried glances with the captain as he acknowledged the call and handed them the address. This was the kind of call they always dreaded but it was even worse news now.

The men at Station 51 turned on the TV so that they could watch the news with dinner. They wanted to get their minds off the run Roy and Johnny had just been sent on. That was not to be, however, as a reporter came on the screen.

“We are on the scene of breaking news. As was reported earlier today, exclusively on Channel 10 news, the Los Angeles County Fire Department has been under siege for the past few weeks. Someone has been attacking various fire stations. Lethal traps have been left at the stations while the faithful fire crews are out on emergency calls. These traps have led to over a dozen firefighters being injured so severely that they have had to be hospitalized. But these sneak attacks on the place a firefighter is supposed to be the safest are not the only problems the fire department has been dealing with. Even worse have been the attacks on firefighters while they are carrying out their duty answering the call for help from the citizens of LA County. Firefighters have been shot, a brake line on a fire engine was severed and worst of all, an engineer was so savagely beaten that he has succumbed to his injuries. Once the engineer was down, the suspect shut the water off, leaving several men in a fully involved house fire with no way to defend themselves.

“We are here at the old abandoned Cal Tex building. Today a fire company was lured here by the report of a trapped child. There was no child found but during the course of their search, four firefighters have disappeared and it is feared that they have fallen prey to the madman who has been stalking the fire department.

“As you can see over my shoulder, Danny, if you could just pan the scene please, an extensive search of the building and the grounds is underway. Police and fire officials have been too busy to talk to us but in the last few minutes, judging from the activity we witnessed, there has been a development. An ambulance arrived on scene and we could see one victim being loaded on board and whisked away. Whether that means that one of the searchers has been injured or that one of the missing firefighters has been found injured is unclear at this time.

“Oh, I can also report that another fire engine and another rescue squad have just been called for. That will make it two fire engines and two rescue squads that are involved in this incident. There are also four, no five police cars and one battalion chief’s car. It is now beginning to get dark so I’m sure that the searchers are frantic to find the missing men before they loose the light. That’s all I have for you now but we will remain on scene and will update you as soon as we have anything. Back to you in the studio.”

“A trap,” Chet muttered, once the news report was finished. “That really sucks.”

“He’s never done that before, has he, Cap?” Marco asked.

“Looks like he is upping the stakes,” the Cap agreed.

“Just what he needs. All this free publicity,” Chet said angrily, slamming his glass of milk down on the table so hard that it shattered.

“You all right, Chet?” The cap asked with concern. “Did you cut yourself?” Captain Stanley was angry. The actions of this man had everyone so rattled that even when he was nowhere near, he was causing accidents.

“No,” Chet said quietly. He automatically got up to get a dishrag and clean up the mess. It crossed his mind to say that there was no use crying over spilled milk but he couldn’t force himself to make a joke. He couldn’t imagine ever making a joke again. Nothing was funny any more.

* * * * *

Orlan Whitfield laughed to himself as he watched the news coverage of search for the missing firemen. He was thrilled that he had managed to capture four of them. They would never find them. Their bones would turn to dust in that hidden cavern under CalTex. He was the last man alive that knew about that trap door.

He’d been a maintenance worker at the plant. He and two other guys came on duty at the end of the day. It was their job to perform routine maintenance on the sewing machines and the conveyer belts and all the other mechanical and electrical equipment it took to keep the shop going. It even fell upon them to sweep the floors. That was no mean task either as the women, who slaved all day making clothes they could never afford to buy, were being paid piecework. They did not bother to pick up the thread and small pieces of material they had trimmed off the finished sweat shirts and jogging pants. The fleece material they used in and of itself made for a lot of lint. By the end of each working day, there could be a pile of scrap material six inches deep at each work station. The clean up of that alone took half the night.

That is, it did until they discovered a switch box hidden behind the fuse box which they had had to replace because some idiot had dented the door in with a fork lift blade. Before the building belonged to CalTex, it had several other incarnations. It was even rumored to have been a speak easy during prohibition. They flipped the switch, out of curiosity, and to their amazement, a trap door opened in the floor. It had been expertly manufactured and while closed was seamless. Absolutely invisible to the naked eye. They were sure that no one at CalTex knew of its existence. One of the other men speculated that the operators of the speakeasy had used it to hide evidence from the feds if they were discovered. It sounded plausible enough and it didn’t really matter to them what the original purpose had been. From that night forward, the back breaking job of carting the floor scraps off was a thing of the past. Opening the trap door and just shoving it all into the gigantic hole made a six hour job into a half hour job. Then they could just while the rest of the night away doing whatever they wanted, on company time. They had thumbed their noses at the empty office windows where the bosses watched over the day workers like hawks. They had beaten the system, he and Fred and Charlie. It was ironic that the building was ultimately condemned because the area was found to be prone to sinkholes undermining safety. Most of the work had gone offshore by that time anyway as the sweatbosses found an even cheaper labor market.

Fred and Charlie were both dead now. Anyone who had run the speakeasy was long since gone. He was the only one who knew about the trap door and where the firemen were. And he’d never tell. He thought it would probably take them days to starve to death. They would suffer for that long at least. He had suffered months and was still suffering. They had mentioned on the earlier news story that the police had found no fingerprints at any of the fire stations that had been attacked that had matched any known criminal that they had on record.

Orlan looked down at his hands. They were wrapped in gauze bandages to protect the skin grafts. His fingerprints were not on any police records, in fact, he no longer had any fingerprints. He pushed to button on the clicker that turned off the TV. Even that slight motion was painful but pain was something he had gotten used to. He had even mastered it. He knew all about pain, including how to inflict it.

He picked up the thin paperback book that was on the table by his chair. It was the latest of the Masked Avenger books. The Masked Avenger was a secret government assassin who took out people who deserved killing but had managed to be safe from prosecution. The Masked Avenger meted out justice to those who thought they were above the law.

He glanced at his reflection in the TV screen. His bandages were like a mask, he supposed, but instead of hiding his face, they had replaced his face. Yes, he’d be the Masked Avenger on the lazyass fire department. They made good money but didn’t do the job they were paid for. There was a framed picture of Hilda standing on the TV set. It had been about the only thing that had been salvaged from the fire. “Don’t worry, Hilda, I’ll make the sorry bastards pay for what they did. Let me just read this next book and see what the Masked Avenger and I can come up with to throw at them next.”

* * * * *

Johnny tried to think of something else as they sped to the location. He didn’t want to think about what had happened to the four guys that had disappeared. His imagination was too vivid. Still, he had to prepare himself to do the job. They’d be working with 45's. He knew that Brice and Bellingham had been released from the hospital but they might not yet be fit for duty. It was the Captain of 45's that was making him leery. They knew him well. Too well.

Captain Hook, as they called Hockrader behind his back, used to work C-shift at Station 51. He was a real stickler for doing things by the book. So much so that most of the men cringed whenever he was around. Making firemen’s lives as miserable as possible seemed to be his calling. No one had rejoiced more than they had when Captain Hook announced that he was going to be retiring. They were so overjoyed, in fact, that they had planned a huge retirement party complete with speeches honoring him. Of course, they all had their tongues firmly planted in their cheeks as they extolled the virtues of the honoree. Chet should have won an Academy Award for the performance he’d put on with his speech. It had been a thing to behold. It had been a great party. Unfortunately, it had completely backfired. Hockrader was so impressed by how much he meant to them that he changed his mind about retiring after all.

It’s very likely that Chet would have been killed if Personnel had not already assigned a new captain to C-shift. So Hockrader was moved to Station 45, much to their relief. The one thing that Hockrader really was respected for, however, was the fact that in his off duty life, he was very active in Search & Rescue. He knew what he was doing. Even though his station was not the closest to this location, he was the one called in to conduct the search. Johnny decided that Captain Hook could be as nasty as he wanted to them if he was able to find the missing men. That was the important thing.

The parking lot at CalTex was getting crowded. Roy had to pull in and park in a spot near the fence. As they got out of the squad, they heard a voice call to them. They turned around. A skinny 10 year old on a battered bike two sizes too big for him leaned against the high chain link fence. “Are you trying to catch him?” the kid asked. Excitement danced in his wide eyes.

“Are we trying to catch who?” Johnny asked.

“You know, the monster. Freddy MacAllister and me seen him ourselves a couple a days ago. We figured that ol’ place was his lair. It looks all spooky and haunted, don’t ya think?”

“We aren’t looking for any ghosts, son,” Roy said firmly. “It’s not safe for you to be here. You’d better go on home now. Isn’t it about time for your dinner?”

“Not a ghost. A monster like on Creature Feature. You know, the mummy.”

“There’s no such thing as mummies, kid,” Johnny said. “Go on and skedaddle on out of here before you get hurt.”

They turned and walked toward the building, shaking their heads at the kid’s imagination.

The kid watched them go. Grown-ups! They never believed anything a kid said. It would serve them right if they ran right into that old mummy and they were the ones who got hurt. “Don’t blame me if the Mummy’s Curse gets you!” he hollered at them defiantly. After a shaky start, he rode off on the oversized bike.

Roy and Johnny approached the chief’s car where a group was huddled. McConnike was so deeply involved in the conversation that he did not seem to notice them. The captain who had also been in the huddle looked up at them.

Johnny felt his stomach lurch as he realized it was Captain Tacy. He shot a nervous glance at Roy. It wasn’t that either of them were afraid of the Iron Maiden, it was that they realized that the missing firefighters were not men. The idea that women may have fallen into the clutches of a madman made their blood run cold.

She walked over to them. She was as all business as ever but Johnny noticed something different about her. It was barely perceptible but it was there. She was really worried. This one was too close for her. It was too close for all of them.

“Gage, DeSoto,” she greeted curtly. “This is what we know. Four of my people were lured into position over a hidden trap door. The door opened and they fell approximately 20 feet into a giant sinkhole that is under this building.”

“You know where they are?! We were told they were missing,” Johnny told her.

“They were, but my engineer managed to crawl out of a ventilator shaft and free herself. She was injured in the attempt and I’ve had Pigeon take her into Rampart. Pigeon is good, damn good but I had to order her out of here. She was about to lose it. Not that I can blame her.”

“I think we’re all on the verge of losing it these days,” Johnny said sympathetically but then he brightened. “Well, if we know where they are now, let’s go get them out!”

“That’s the problem, Gage, we can’t find any sign of that trap door and that shaft is too small for anyone to backtrack to find them.”

“I’m pretty skinny. I could try --”

“No, Gage. Tinker is much smaller than you and she got stuck.”

“Then I guess we’d better find this trap door,” Roy said confidently.

“I can show you where they were last seen but no one can find any sign of a trap door anywhere.”

“We’ll find it, Cap,” Johnny assured her. “No matter how long it takes. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“We might have, but I don’t think Kelly does. Tink said she was hurt in the fall and that was over three hours ago,” she added sadly.

“Shit,” Johnny gasped. Now they knew why Pidge was losing it. Three hours was a long time for an injured person to wait for medical care. Sometimes too long.

Cassie was slumped over onto her right side. Her breathing was becoming more labored. Barb was very worried abut her. They had tried to get her to lay down several times but she had fought the idea. Though she had always played down her condition they could tell that she was far more anxious than she was willing to let on. Other than admitting to severe thirst and being abnormally quiet she was acting like nothing was wrong. She seemed bound and determined to just tough it out.

After listening to her take several deep, irregular breaths Barb could stand it no longer. She and Lila had been sitting far enough away to be sure that they did not accidentally bump up against Cassie’s injured arm. Barb crawled over and leaned over Cassie. She gently pressed her hand to Cassie’s forehead. It was cold but she was sweating profusely. “How are you doing?” she asked kindly.

“I...I don’t feel so hot,” Cassie finally admitted weakly.

“Lila, come over here. Cassie, you need to lay down flat. The way you’re curled up here is making it hard for you to breathe. Help me lie her down, but be careful.”

Lila was very strong and there was no way that Cassie would be able to resist what they were trying to do. “Not....on back...feel sick,” she gasped. As soon as they tried to move her, she vomited. “Shit,” she murmured when she was able to.

“It’s all right, Cassie. Do you feel better now?” Barb asked kindly.

“Ummm-hmmm,” Cassie mumbled.

Lila took off her turnout coat. “Put mine over her too. She feels cold.” She gently pulled Cassie back so that she was lying relatively flat but her head was elevated by resting in Lila’s lap. The motion seemed to startle Cassie. “Don’t worry. We ain’t gonna let you choke, Kelly. Just relax,” she said firmly.

“Lila’s right, Cassie. We’re here. We’ll take care of everything,” Barb promised as she laid Crenshaw’s coat over her.

Cassie became very lethargic after that and soon was completely unresponsive when spoken to. Barbara was feeling frantic. “If help doesn’t get here soon, we’re gonna lose her,” she gasped.

“Naw, Kelly’s too damn ornery to cash in her chips and I’m too damn ornery to let her,” Crenshaw said with conviction.

They joined the Chief and the crew from 45's and walked into the building. Hockrader had ordered his crew to bring in the large portable light unit his rig carried. It was very dark inside the building. Captain Tacy showed them the spot where her crew had last been seen. Even with the aide of the powerful light they could find no indication of a trap door anywhere in the area. They searched and even felt along the floor with no results.

“Chief,” Johnny said thoughtfully. “Is there anyway to get a reel line in here?”

All eyes fell on Ron “Lead foot” Dooley, the often ticketed engineer of 45's. “I can back the engine right up to one of windows,” Dooley declared.

“Do it,” Hockrader commanded. “What do you have in mind, Gage?”

“If we wet the floor, we may just be able to find the seems around the door,” he said.

“Worth a try,” Hockrader agreed, although he couldn’t see how wetting the floor would make it any easier to see anything.

“Is this another one of your 'old Indian tricks', Johnny?” asked Vince Howard.

“I’ll let you know, if it works”

One of the firefighters from 45's made quick work of the plywood covering one of the windows and soon Dooley was feeding a reel line into through it.

“Spray this whole area,” Johnny told him.

They opened up the hose and soon there was a half inch of standing water on the floor. Johnny signaled them to cut off the hose.

“Now what?” Roy hardly dared ask. He had no idea what Johnny had in mind and had to consider the fact that his partner might just have snapped under the pressure.

“Watch the water,” Johnny said squatting down and shining a large flash light on the wet floor. At first nothing happened but eventually the water began to show signs of movement. It was slowly beginning to drain away into the only opening it could find. A long, thin dip in the surface of the water clearly outlined the previously invisible seems around the large trap door.

“Thank the dear Lord,” Captain Tacy sighed.

“We’ve been walking over that spot so it obviously isn’t triggered by weight,” McConnike mused.

“How is it triggered?” Roy wondered.

“I’d say a good ax and a K-12 would do the trick,” Hockrader stated.

Without any orders being issued, Higgins, the man with the ax, came over and went to work on the floor while another man ran out to the rig to get the large saw that Hockrader had asked for.

Roy and Johnny ran out to the squad to bring in their equipment so they would be ready when the hole was cut in the floor.

“Darned good old Indian trick, Partner,” Roy said as they ran.

“Thanks, Partner.”

“So what TV show did you learn that one on?” Roy asked as they opened the bays in the squad.

“It was a movie actually. The Great Escape.”

“I saw that movie. That’s right! That’s how the Nazis discovered the escape tunnel. I would have never thought of that.”

“Well, you see, Roy, that’s the greatest old Indian trick of all. We’re smarter than you are.” Johnny flashed the momentarily stunned Roy a grin, and placed the gear he had gathered into the Stokes basket beside Roy’s gear. They each picked up an end and ran back into the old factory building.

Knowing that there was at least one injured firefighter, Hockrader had instructed them to cut a hole large enough to accommodate the Stokes basket. The man with the ax who had started the cut for the saw had then sunk the ax into the part of the floor that was to be removed. When the saw was through he used the ax to lever the large heavy section of floor aside. They moved the portable light to the opening and Roy looked down.

“Roy, thank God!” Barb Yates called up to them in a very nervous voice. “We need medical help down here. Hurry!”

Johnny had been suiting up in a rope and harness and he stepped up to be lowered down into the hole by 45's.

The sudden light had been blinding but Barb’s eyes adjusted well enough to guide Johnny down the last few feet. He had barely landed when she tugged at his arm dragging him over to where Lila Crenshaw sat cradling Cassie’s head.

“She’s real bad, Johnny. Tink says her arm is broken. We splinted it as best we could. She’s been vomiting but she’s barely conscious. She’s cold and clammy. Her skin is pale. Her breathing seems irregular and labored. She was complaining of thirst before but she has been completely unresponsive for the last half hour or so.”

Johnny pulled the pen light out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. He knelt by them and after placing his hand gently on Cassie’s chest to check her breathing, he checked her pulse and pupils. He could not get her to respond to either verbal or pain stimuli. He took a quick look at the injured arm and decided it was best left untouched at the moment. He agreed with Tink’s diagnosis. Roy had sent his equipment down on a rope so he took the rest of the vitals and called them up to Roy who reported them to Rampart. Due to the length of time that the fracture had been untreated, Brackett wanted her transported right away but he did authorize IVs to begin rehydration and morphine.

The ambulance that the Chief had ordered arrived and they got Cassie out of the sinkhole and into it as quickly as possible. Leaving the engine crew to free Crenshaw and Barb. Roy was packing up the squad to follow but the chief asked him to wait. When Barb was free McConnike told her about Bill.

“Broken leg?” she asked, a hairsbreadth away from bursting into tears. Again she remember A Separate Peace and the broken leg that had killed one of the characters.

Roy put his arm around her sympathetically and steered her to the passenger side of the squad. When they were both inside he turned on the lights and sirens and headed to Rampart. He didn’t give a damn that he had just initiated an unauthorized Code R response right in front of two captains and a battalion chief.

At Station 51, they were trying to watch a mindless sitcom when Channel 10 interrupted the program with breaking news.

They all stiffened in their seats, praying that this news involved a Hollywood scandal or closed freeway exit. They were disappointed but not at all surprised to once again see the blond reporter with the Farrah Fawcett hairstyle that had reported on the missing firemen on the five o’clock news.

“Maybe they found them and they’re okay,” Marco said hopefully.

“This is Heather Browne with an update of a story we reported earlier. We are happy to say that the four missing firefighters have been located at the abandoned Cal Tex plant. All four firefighters are alive ---”

Captain Stanley stifled the cheer that threatened to erupt so that he could hear the rest of the report.

“---two of them are reported to be injured, one critically. We will bring you more information as it comes to light but we do need to correct something that was erroneously reported. Earlier we referred to the missing firefighters as men but we have since learned that these four firefighters were all women --”

Chet jumped up with enough force to send the chair he had been sitting in flying all the way into the kitchen. It took every ounce of strength both Marco and the cap had to restrain him. For some reason he seemed bent on flying into the television set and it took several minutes and the cap’s loudest voice to get through to him enough that they dared loosen their grip on him.

“Chet, calm down. There’s no point in jumping to conclusions. If you promise to sit down and act rationally, I’ll go make a few phone calls and see what I can find out,” Captain Stanley ordered.

“The cap’s right, Chet,” Marco said supportively. “You have no way of knowing ---”

“I do know. It’s her, Marco,” Chet said stonily. “I can feel it in my gut.”

When Roy and Barb arrived at the ER they were surprised to see a rather dejected looking Johnny standing outside one of the treatment rooms. His head was down and he leaned against the wall with one foot resting on it.

“Oh no,” Barb sobbed and by sheer will power alone did not burst into tears.

He looked up startled.

“Johnny,” Roy demanded. “Cassie, she’s not --”

“Oh no, no, it isn’t that. Brackett looked at the X-rays and decided to rush her up to surgery. He says that the finest orthopedist in the country is on staff and that they should be able to completely correct the fracture. Once that is cleared up, they can aggressively treat the shock and she’ll be out of the woods.”

“She’s gonna be okay?” Barb hardly dared believe it.

“She’ll be laid up a while, even if we have to sit on her to keep her down, but the doctors are confident that the prognosis is good,” Dixie smiled. Then she added, without missing a beat, “Johnny, get your foot off the wall, unless you want me to give you a rag so you can see how much fun it is to remove those black marks your shoes make.”

Johnny jumped to obey and Dixie said she’d take Barb up to find Bill’s room. When they left Roy said, “You scared poor Barb to death, standing there looking like the world was comin’ to an end.”

“Sorry. I guess it’s all just getting to me, is all.”

“As long as we’re here, why don’t we go up and say hello to Chili?” Roy suggested.

Johnny brightened. A little friendly sparring with Chili might just cheer him up at that. They both got on the elevator and headed for the sixth floor to visit Chili.

When they got to his room they were surprised to find the bed made up and no sign that the room was occupied. Johnny was sure that this was the right room. He had sent him a Mediterranean fruit basket, which he said he’d received when Johnny had called him earlier in the day. They both pretended not to, but they both knew full well that Chili hated figs and dates and most of the other things that had been in the basket. What was the sense of having a best friend if you couldn’t bug the snot out of each other every chance you got? Johnny had reasoned.

A nurse was passing in the hall so Johnny asked her about Chili.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely, flashing her large blue eyes at Johnny sympathetically. “Mr Chilibeck is no longer with us.”

All of the color drained out of Johnny’s face and he clutched at the wall for support. “He’s g-gone?” he asked in a weak, shaky voice.

“I’m afraid so.”

Roy looked at him, he was almost sure he was going to pass out. He grabbed Johnny’s elbow so he could catch him if he did. He knew what his partner’s overactive imagination was hearing but he was pretty sure that was not what the nurse was actually saying. “Nurse, was Mr Chilibeck released?” He tried to clear up the confusion.

“Yes sir. About four o’clock this afternoon. He’s gone home.”

Johnny noisily released the breath he had been holding. Both Roy and the nurse were talking to him but he could not focus in on what they were saying. He was not aware of anything until Roy pulled him into the elevator.

“I don’t believe you, Johnny. That was Olympic caliber conclusion jumping. Even for you.” Roy shook his head in disgust.

Johnny nodded wearily.

“That settles it, Johnny. You’re exhausted. No more staying up all night “sleuthing”. You don’t know if you’re afoot or horseback.”

“I do so.”

“Oh really? Then why is it that I just saw infamous John Gage standing there with a very pretty nurse hitting on him and all the while he’s completely oblivious to the whole thing. She said she feels so sorry for us firemen for what we are going through. And she asks if there is anything she could do to help and you just stand there like a zombie!”

“She was hitting on me?” He was astounded as they stepped off the elevator in the ER.

An all too familiar voice interrupted them. “There you two are. Do you realize that your squad is parked in a restricted zone and parked none too well at that------”

Before Roy even knew what was happening, his fist connected with Craig Brice’s jaw sending the annoying paramedic spinning into the far wall. The three of them gaped at each other in shock for several minutes. Finally Brice stood up straight, readjusted his glasses and walked across the hall to them in a stiff-legged, angry gate.

“Gage,” he said through clenched teeth. “I felt I owed you a debt of gratitude for visiting me while I was hospitalized.” He glared at Roy a minute before continuing. “Consider it paid.” He turned on his heel and stalked off to the supply desk.

Johnny and Roy looked at each other but could not say a word. They headed out of the ER to return to the station. Johnny shook his head in disbelief as he got into the squad. Roy punching someone out. Brice not reporting a very major infraction. Maybe it was the end of the world.

* * * * *

On To Part Four