Three Strikes and You're Out By: Jessie Jane Cheshire Consultant: Jean Ann Barrie (my Mom!) Johnny's rapid breathing sounded loud in the empty locker room. It seemed to bounce and echo against the walls and floor until he was sure that it would be heard. His heart rate was high as he mentally and automatically counted his pulse from the pounding in his chest alone. Heart rate was around 120. His breathing was no better. He was up to 40 breaths a minute and close to hyperventilating. He was also sure his blood pressure was through the roof. But he was trying to calm down. 'Calm down', he sternly told himself. 'You're not going to do yourself or the others any good if you're wigging out.' He breathed hard again. 'I'm wigging out!' He bent over and put his hand on his knees to keep from passing out. 'Where's Roy? Where is everybody?' A man, about five minutes ago, walked as calmly as you please into the station house and started banging away with an old six shooter. All the while he was shouting and screaming, spittle running down his chin. As soon as the shooting started, A-Shift scattered for cover. There aren't that many hiding places in the station. He was sure someone would have dived into the locker room with him when the shooting and shouting started. He straightened up and slowly crept backwards toward his locker. Every squeak of his shoes making him cringe in response. He didn't have a weapon, but he did have his heavy wooden baseball bat. Johnny brought it in to work today to practice a little between calls for the upcoming charity baseball game. He was a pretty good fastball hitter when he put his mind to it. When Johnny made it to the rows of lockers he placed his back to the doors and slowly slid down his row, his eyes never leaving the direction of the entryway of the locker room. When he reached his locker, he quietly opened it and pulled the heavy, dark, age-colored bat from the back and hefted it in his hands. He looked back toward the door again and got a shock. Down the row of lockers was a wide smear of bright red blood. He leaned the bat against the bench and carefully prepared himself for what he would find. He looked down and opened his paramedic jacket. There was a small hole in the front of his right side. He slowly slid a hand around and felt the cloth of the back of his shirt. There was a jagged hole for the exit wound and a sticky wetness. Blood. This was not good. Not good at all. And he didn't even feel it. 'Huh. No wonder I'm close to hyperventilating. I'm losing blood.' But he didn't have time to worry about it. None of them had time. Johnny picked up the bat and slid back down the row of lockers to the door. He paused to catch his breath and to try to slow his racing heart. He knew what he had to do. He had to go out there and hunt down that maniac before his whole shift was taken out. No one else would have anything even close to a weapon unless someone had made it out to the engine and got hold of some of the equipment. 'Okay, go out low!' He tumbled out the door and rolled over the floor until he came up against the wall. Johnny looked for the gunman, but saw nothing. His gaze traveled the room to get clues about his friends. When he finally moved, he left a bloodstain on the wall he leaned against. ******* The smell of gunsmoke floated in the air of the station. It was a very different smell than he was used to at fires. His ears strained for the slightest sound, the way his Grandfather had taught him so many years ago when they were hunting. Johnny moved slowly through the station that was like a home to him. He stopped cold for a moment when he saw blood on the door of his captain's office. The window was shot out. 'Damn, damn, damn.' Johnny made his was to the bay that held the squad and the engine. Again, nothing. No gunman. He didn't take the time to look for his friends. His only objective now was to get the gunman out of the picture. 'Okay, let's check the dorm.' He crept up to the door and slowly slid his head into the room and looked. 'There!' There was the maniac that came in five minutes ago and began blasting away. The man was turned away from him and seemed to fumble with his gun and was muttering to himself. "Damn firemen. Didn't even try to save my woman. They all deserve to die! Die like she did in that fire." 'The man is out of bullets!' was Johnny's only thought as he ignored the man's ramblings. A surge of adrenaline moved him like a cat from the door to the man in the middle of the dorm. This man was in the dorm. In his dorm. In his friends' dorm. Johnny's feet pounding on the floor made the man turn with a surprised look on his face as he redoubled his efforts in reloading his six shooter. Panic started in the man's eyes as he saw Johnny coming at him with a raised baseball bat. Johnny's first swing of the bat was to knock the empty gun and the bullets from the man's hands. The second was to double the man over at the waist and the third was to practically take the man's head off. The man dropped like a ton of bricks. 'Three strikes and you're out,' Johnny thought shakily. Without putting down his bat, he picked the man up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and took him down to the bay. He dumped the man and the bloody bat on the hard floor and began getting his supplies out of the Squad. In no time he had the man securely strapped down to a backboard with a C-collar in case his bat had caused any neck injury. He checked the man's breathing and heart rate and checked his pupils. He checked out well enough for right now. Johnny picked up his med box, biophone, several C-collars and then sent up a small prayer to the Being in charge of the universe. Maybe his father's God was listening to him. Or maybe his mother's. He also picked up the HT from the Squad's dashboard. Now was the time to call for medical help and then look for his shift mates. Without following any guidelines for proper radio procedure, he interrupted a woman trapped call for 110s. "This is Station 51, I have code I's times five. I also have a man down with a wrist and head injury. I need three ambulances, a squad and the police." He stuffed the HT in his jacket pocket and let the dispatcher squawk about radio procedure. The message was out. Now, to find everyone else. ******* He opened the captain's office door. Johnny found his captain with a bloody groove on the left side of his head, lying in a spray of glass. He slowly looked him over and carefully straightened his body out on the floor of the office and picked the biggest pieces of glass off of his captain's body. He took a 4x4 pad out of the box and some distilled water and cleaned the groove as best he could and then taped a fresh 4x4 over the wound to soak up the blood. Johnny checked the pupils with his penlight and found them equal and responsive. He heaved a sigh of relief. He pulled up the biophone. "Rampart, this is 51, do you read?" "We read 51, what's going on over there?" came back Dr. Brackett's voice with a slight tinge of worry. "Too long to explain, Rampart. I have victim number one, name unknown, in the bay on a backboard; breathing and heart rate are normal. He may have a broken wrist and a head injury." "Can I get vitals on him, 51?" "Not as yet, Rampart. I have unknown number of victims and I need to search and triage." He paused and looked down at his captain. "I have victim number two, Captain Stanley, with what seems to be a bullet burn to the left side of his head. He is unconscious at this time, but breathing, pupil response and heart rate seem normal. He is in the captain's office." He took out a roll of two inch bandage tape and put three rows of it across the captain's body. One across his forehead, one on his chest and one on his shins. It wouldn't do a whole lot to keep the captain down if he really wanted to get up, but he had to move on and look for the others. "Rampart, I have immobilized number two the best I can and am now looking for the others. Please stand by." "Standing by, 51." He went back to the bay and checked on the gunman. The man still seemed fine. Johnny then began a search. If anyone had made it to the engine, it would have been Mike or Marco. They both seemed to think of the big engine as safety. His money would be on Mike going for the engine. The engine was Mike's baby. Johnny looked. There was nothing inside or under the engine so he crawled up on the back and found Mike lying on top near the back. Johnny's heart skipped. There was a hole in Mike's shoulder and blood smeared on his shirt and the engine. Small black stippling marks showed how close the gun was to Mike's body when the gun went off. It looked like it had been very close. "Rampart, I have a victim number three, Mike Stoker, with what seems to be a bullet wound to his left shoulder. Also, possible broken Scapula from the bullet. His pulse is rapid and weak and his skin is bluish and moist to the touch. He made it to the back of 51s engine and is currently unconscious." He rolled Mike softly to check his back. "There is no exit wound. With permission, I'd like to start an IV for blood loss." "Go ahead, 51. Run it wide open. Tag this victim as a top priority." He finished Mike's IV and then also taped Mike down the best he could. He patted Mike on the leg and then jumped down only to feel a sharp twinge from his own wound. Johnny shook it off and began dragging his gear along with him. Gear that was getting heavier and heavier as the minutes ticked by. ******* He found Roy and Marco behind the sofa in the day room. "Rampart, I have victim number four, Roy DeSoto, and victim number five, Marco Lopez, in the day room behind the sofa. Victim number four appears to have hit his head and there is a lump forming on his temple, possible concussion. Victim number five appears to have broken his left arm." He stopped to run a light hand over Marco's arm. "Possible broken Radius. Both are unconscious and breathing without trouble. Victim number five's heart rate is elevated." "51, start an IV on victim number five for shock and try to stabilize the arm." "10-4, Rampart." He looked down at Roy and Marco and then stuck Marco with an IV. Searching his gear, he couldn't find an arm splint so he quickly ran back to the Squad for one. Every footfall was a shooting pain up his back from his wound and he could feel the blood flowing a little freer down his side. He came back and carefully put the splint around Marco's arm. Marco shifted slightly in response to the pain. "Sorry, pal. I need to get this done." He turned his attention back to Roy and flashed his light into Roy's eyes again. Right now, Roy looked like he was doing fine except for the egg forming on his temple and the possible concussion. He put a hand on Roy's forehead in an attempt to gauge his temperature. It felt all right for now, but measures should soon be taken for shock for both of them. Just in case. "O.K., Pally. I'll just leave you for a minute after I put these C-collars on you and Marco while I go to find the others. You keep a watch on Marco for me," he told the unconscious man. 'Damn, where are the squad and the ambulances?' He'd even be glad to see a policeman at this point. Johnny was getting tired. The rush had worn off and his side was beginning to throb. A headache was beginning to form from blood loss. He could feel his own skin cooling off and moisture was beginning to form on his forehead and back. He was going into his own brand of shock. Johnny needed to hurry; he wouldn't last much longer. He put a C-collars on both Marco and Roy and gently double checked them for spinal injury from impact on the hard floor. Johnny also taped them down and then moved on again. He hoped he wasn't leaving them to some bleed out and they would be dead when he returned. He eyed the dorm with trepidation. He didn't know if he could drag all of his gear with his low energy level. 'Oh, to hell with it.' "Chet! Chet, are you in there?" "Johnny?" "Chet, are you all right?" After a quiet moment, Chet's head appeared at the door of the dorm. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes! I thought we were all goners. What happened?" Johnny shook his head wearily and allowed himself to lean against the wall. Blood seeped from his jacket into the porous wall behind him. "I don't have time to explain. Everyone else is down. The gunman is on a backboard in the bay and Mike is on top of the engine. Cap is in his office. Roy and Marco are behind the sofa in the day room." Johnny suddenly sat heavily, letting his equipment fall to the floor beside him. He reached for the biophone again not noticing the blood he left painting the wall. "Rampart, I have a victim number six. His breathing is rapid and his pulse is over 100 and weak. The victim had a gunshot wound to his right side with an exit wound. His skin is moist and cool to the touch." Chet finally came over, looking around with apprehension, still expecting the gunman to be around. He had hid under the last bunk on the left side when he heard the commotion and decided to play it cool until he heard the all clear from someone. "Hey, Johnny, I'm not hurt. The man never even saw me." Then he saw the blood on the wall behind Johnny. Johnny ignored him and tried to concentrate on the biophone. "51, start an IV and tag number six as a top priority victim." Chet came closer to Johnny. "Johnny?" He then noticed that Johnny was sweating and his eyes seemed to be closing on their own. Chet felt a touch of panic. If Roy was down, then Johnny was the only one who could keep an eye on the others until help arrived. "Uh, Rampart, number six is me. I don't think my hands are steady enough right now to start an IV and Roy is still down. Just make sure someone shows up soon. I'm at the dorm and I'll take precautions against shock. Oh, and Chet Kelley is unharmed. You might end up talking to him if I go out before anyone gets here." "10-4, 51. Hold on. 16s is on their way with the three ambulances." Johnny threw down the phone and slowly slid down the wall until he was lying flat on the floor, leaving a very visible blood streak. Chet pushed his shock away and rushed to him in two steps to help him. "What do you need, Johnny?" "On my back, feet on the med box for shock. Need a blanket and then get the others a blanket." Chet tried to move away only to be held on to by Johnny. "Keep an eye on them and call Rampart if things seem to be going sour. 16s should be here soon. Oh, and tell the police that the gun is in the dorm." He was quiet for a moment. "The bat is in the bay with the gunman." Chet pried Johnny's hand off of his arm and patted it. "Okay, Johnny. I'll tell them. I'll go get the blankets now." Johnny slowly nodded as his eyes slid shut and his hearing seemed to go out. He was in a comfortable gray haze that didn't allow him to feel the blanket as it was tossed over him. ******* When Squad 16 arrived, they arrived to a sight. Chet Kelley met them at the bay door and dragged one of the paramedics past the gunman and Mike to show him Johnny who was in desperate need of an IV. The other paramedic was left in the bay to start on Mike, then the gunman. The next half hour was spent packaging the wounded for transport to the hospital. Chet stayed out of the way as each of his friends was loaded up and taken away from the station. He showed the police where the bat was in the bay and then the gun in the dorm like Johnny said. As he turned to go back to the bay, he felt a wave of blackness go across his vision. The policeman caught his arm and then nodded to his partner. "Mister, I think you need to go to Rampart with us. I think you look a little shocky." Chet only nodded numbly and let them lead him away from the empty, bloody station house. He was only so glad to get out of that place now that all his friend were gone to the hospital. ******* The first time Johnny woke in a hazy state, he momentarily relived the terror of the gunman coming for him and his friends. He only calmed down when he became lucid and saw the familiar walls of the hospital room and could hear the quiet beep of his monitors. Johnny was completely alone in his room and he was glad for that small favor as a tear rolled out of his eye. Once the floodgates were open, he cried for his feeling of safety at the firehouse being taken away. He cried for not being able to properly care for his friends when they needed him the most. Johnny also cried for having to be so violent to another person after dedicating himself to helping people in need. He never left any evidence of his crying. Johnny always scrubbed his eyes dry and put his palms over them to cool them down and leach out some of the redness. He didn't even know if any of his friends besides Chet were alive. His quick triage at the station could have missed any number of injuries that could kill, like internal bleeding in the brain or abdomen. And Roy. God, if Roy didn't made it, he would just die. Not even the prospect of having to support Roy's wife and children through the experience would be enough to get him through it Johnny felt the blackness coming again and quickly scrubbed his eyes one last time. 'Please let them be alive!' ******* Chet sat in a semi-dark waiting room wrapped in a blanket and a cup of warm coffee in his hands. Chet jumped every time the door opened, expecting Dixie or Dr. Brackett to come in and tell him that someone hadn't made it. How Johnny took out that gunman was amazing to Chet. Johnny, wounded and losing a load of blood knocking that guy out with a bat? Chet saw the cops pick up the bloody wooden bat from the bay floor before he had shown them the gun in the dorm. He shuddered at the thought of how it would feel to get a bat to the head. He also shuddered at how it would feel to be the one hitting the head with the bat. Chet muttered a curse under his breath. He just hid under a bunk while it was happening. He left it to a wounded man to take out a lunatic with a gun. Then Johnny helped their friends alone, while Chet waited for an all-clear signal that he never received until he heard Johnny call his name. 'I'm so sorry, Johnny. I know seeing our friends injured and having to prioritize them like that hurt you.' ******* Roy woke up still in the ER treatment room. His head was killing him, but he clearly remembered what happened at the station house. He immediately thought of the others. Who was alive and who was dead while he was out of touch with reality. When he last saw the gunman, he had his gun lined up with Marco in the dayroom. He turned his head and attracted the attention of Dixie, who bustled around the room. She checked over his chart and got ready to do a vitals check. "Oh, so we join the land of the living again. How's your head?" she asked in her smokey voice. Roy shook his head and regretted the motion. "It's fine," he said in barely above a whisper. "The others?" Dixie smiled. "You guys were lucky. Really lucky. The guy just bought the gun and didn't know how to use it." She picked up his wrist to check his pulse. "Chet's in the waiting room, your Captain's in the next room with a headache and Marco is getting his arm x-rayed and prepped for a cast for a broken arm. Mike was shot in the shoulder and he's still in surgery to get the bullet out and repair his broken Scapula. He should be fine." Roy tried to keep his eyes open. "And Johnny?" Dixie finished her check and wrote the results on the chart. "He's fine. Took a bullet through the side that needed surgery to clean up the debris left behind. In and out of consciousness, but doing well. You know how he gets when he's been put under for surgery." Roy sighed in relief and then lifted a hand to his throbbing head. "And my wife? Anyone call her?" Dixie patted his shoulder. "She knows. I called her myself. I told her you were fine and she called a friend to stay at your house with the kids. She's in the waiting room. You'll see her as soon as we let you out of here." ******* Johnny pushed himself a little higher in his bed when they wheeled in Mike from his surgery early in the morning hours. Stoker looked like hell, but his monitors showed good vitals. Dixie greeted him but he just waived it off as he stared at Mike. "The others?" Dixie sighed. They were all alike. Even if they were bleeding out on the floor, they would still ask about the others on their shift at 51. "Everyone is fine, Johnny. Roy's fine, just a headache. Marco is getting his cast on even as we speak. Your captain is doing well, no concussion. And Chet's fretting in the waiting room waiting to see you." Johnny shook his head. He wasn't ready for visitors right now. "Not now, Dix. Tell him I'm O.K., but I need some time." His brown eyes turned from Mike to look at her with a thousand-yard stare. "A little time to think." She sighed. 'Men. Never knew when they needed their friends.' But she complied with his wishes and kept Chet out. ******* Captain Stanley surveyed the waiting room to see the families of his men and Chet waiting anxiously. His own wife was sitting tightly against him with her hand in his. His head was aching from the bullet burn and he could feel the bandage tape pulling at the skin on his temple and cheek. In his heart, he knew that their was nothing he could have done to prevent this disaster, but he still wondered. These men were more than just his firefighters. They were family to him. Worrying about them was second natural to Hank by now. Hank smelled the antiseptic smell of the hospital and shivered. It was no secret that he didn't like the hospital or being seen by a doctor. His wife often joked about him being in the wrong business if he didn't like hospitals. Chief McConnike was there not long ago to check on the injuries to the men and express his sympathy. That got another shudder. Usually he was paranoid about the Chief, but all of that was put aside for this horrible incident. He kept hearing, over and over again, the yells of his men and the gunman went from room to room blasting away. And he had seen Mike shot at close range, just before he dived into his office. That image would forever be burned into his mind. His hand tightened on his wife's and she turned her head to look him in the eye. He could see her love and relief at his safe delivery from the danger. She squeezed back. ******* Marco was finally out from his cast fitting and was silently praying in the waiting room with the others. Certainly, God had watched over them when that madman came looking for revenge. He shifted his aching arm and looked up to the ceiling and said another prayer for Mike Stoker and Johnny Gage. Beside him, his family members were also sending up silent prayers of their own thanking God for Marco's health and safety. ******* By daylight, Roy was ready to see his partner and Mike. He had spoken with the police and knew why the man had shot up the station house. It really was a sad story, but right now he was focused on his friends and their well being. All of them were waiting to see Johnny and Mike. Roy was worried when Chet told him that Johnny refused visitors earlier. That didn't bode well for Johnny's state of mind. They all wanted to get in there and give Johnny their thanks, the men of A-Shift and their families alike. ******* The next time Johnny woke, he heard noises coming from all around him. Suddenly, he was back at the firehouse hearing the bangs of the gun and trying to take out the crazy gunman with just a baseball bat. He lurched up, ripping out one of his IVs and setting off his heart monitor. Roy quickly went to his side and put a soothing hand on Johnny's shoulder. "It's all right, Junior. He's gone. It's just us and our families coming to visit you and Mike." He tried to capture Johnny's eyes with his own. "You took care of the gunman with your bat, remember? It's morning now." Johnny allowed his partner to push him back down on the bed and call for a nurse to reinsert his IV. He was still shaking and refused to meet Roy's eyes. Roy had seen enough during his career in the military to know when a man had seen too much, done too much. Johnny was just about at that stage. Roy dragged over a chair and sat. The other ambulatory men of Station 51 and their families became quiet and shifted closer to Mike's side of the room to give the two paramedics a little privacy. "Johnny, I know what you did at the station. I know you did it alone and wounded." He put his hand back on Johnny's shoulder as the nurse came in and efficiently did her job. Roy waited until she was gone. "It must have hurt you to hurt someone else, but it had to be done. We all owe our lives to you." Johnny's thousand-yard stare stopped as his eyes focused on his friend for the first time. "I felt his head though the bat. It was like hitting a melon." He shuddered and his heart rate shot up again. The heart monitor couldn't lie to Roy. "He's going to be fine, Johnny. You just did a little damage. Enough to put him down and out of commission so you could help us. You did what no one else could do at the time." "But, why?" Roy was confused for a moment. Then he understood. "I talked to the police. The man lives on Pennington Avenue. Near the 24s. His house caught fire last week and his wife was in the attic at the time." He shook his head. "Jim and Sam couldn't get to her because the building went up like a tinder box. She died in that house and he blamed the firefighters." He gripped Johnny's shoulder a little harder. "We just happened to be in his line of sight after he bought the gun from down the street." Johnny's cheeks were flushed and his voice harsh with emotion, "I though you were all dead. I was in the locker room and I couldn't see anyone. Couldn't hear anyone. All I had was my bat and a hope that I would find you guys alive after it was all over." Johnny reached up and placed his hand over Roy's briefly and then looked at the ceiling to choke off some of the emotions. Emotions that swelled up almost to cut off his air as he though of even one of his friends dead by the gunman's hand. "I know it hurt you. It's O.K. to feel the hurt, just don't let it consume you. Johnny, you did everything that you could. You had to take out the gunman to keep us safe." Johnny looked at Roy and then over Roy's shoulder at the rest of his shift mates at 51. He studied them for a long time. He saw Marco in his cast, saying a silent prayer over Mike as Mike's eyes fluttered as if he were about to awaken. Cap with his white bandage on his head, glowing slightly in the dim light of morning. Chet standing in the middle of the rest, looking a little lost. Johnny also took in the waiting family members that crowed around their loved ones, glad the ordeal was coming to an end now that Johnny and Mike were doing well. All but Mike smiled at him with clear joy in their eyes. These men, his friends, would be dead if he hadn't stopped that man from reloading his gun. Maybe he would be dead as well. He finally turned to Roy with a glow in his eyes and a partial smirk on his face. "And it was worth it." Roy nodded and smiled back at his partner. He stood up, wanting to get back to his wife who stood in the corner of the room with the others. Johnny was silent for a moment as he watched Roy go to his wife and put his hand in hers. Then Johnny suddenly thought about his bat and broke out, "Oh, tell the police I want my bat back. I've got to practice for the charity game that's coming up." Thanks to the 'staff' member that proofed my story. Also, thanks to Janet. FourSilverArrows@aol.com . |