Death Traps By: Mary Cull The young California Highway Patrol officer glanced quickly behind his right shoulder, getting assurance that his partner was following him, as he took off on his motorcycle after their suspect. The two police officers hadn't even seen the man's face, they had just stumbled upon it during their early morning rounds, but the smoke billowing from the old factory had drawn their attention and they had stopped, parking their state issued motorcycles to investigate. Just as they had started walking towards the entrance of the run-down building, an intense, loud explosion had knocked them both to the ground, stunning them momentarily. Immediately following the explosion, while the two CHP officers lay on their stomachs facing the now fully-engulfed east side of the factory in complete bewilderment, a lone person dressed in black jeans and jacket, ran quickly out of the side of the building. Before the law enforcement officers could pick themselves up from the ground and stop him, he had opened the door of a waiting dark green pick-up truck and hurriedly left the scene. Officer Jon Baker now led the way in chase of the suspect, who was driving well over the posted speed limits and in an erratic fashion, in an obvious attempt to lose the cops. Jon did not turn his glance behind him again, hearing his partner, Francis "Ponch" Poncherello's sirens now blaring some fifty feet behind. Jon picked up the mike from his motorcycle's dash, barely looking down, keeping his eyes cast on the fleeing pick-up truck. "L.A., 7 Mary 3 and 4 in pursuit of suspected arsonist, traveling south on Alameda Street. Please advise fire department that there is a fire at the abandoned factory, 6500 Block on Industrial Avenue. Also, be advised the vehicle is a green pick-up truck. I'm not close enough to see plate number, will advise when I get it." "Ten-four, 7 Mary 3 and 4. Do you require back-up?" the female voice replied through the radio. "Affirmative. Have at least one unit meet us at the intersection, Alameda and Olympic Boulevard." "Ten-four, 7 Mary 3 and 4." Officer Baker returned the mike to its position and grimaced as he observed the pick-up weave its way dangerously around the traffic on the four-lane boulevard. He heard tires screeching in front of him as other vehicles attempted to avoid a collision with the maniac driving the green truck. Jon saw the CHP patrol car as they drove closer to the intersection, and realized his suspect was making a rash attempt to leave the crowded street to get on the freeway. Jon sped up, wanting to get close enough to this person to be able to overtake him, or at the very least get a description, but the faster and closer he got, the quicker and more erratic the lone person in the pick-up drove. Jon knew this man was dangerous and would not be easily stopped. At the intersection, the suspect gunned his vehicle, speeding purposefully through the red light, successfully cutting off an oncoming blue sports car and causing that vehicle to crash straight on into a hydro pole. His heart pounding wildly in his chest, Jon continued his pursuit of the suspect, knowing that Ponch had been forced to stop his motorcycle in an effort to check the victims who had just been involved in the crash. The blond patrolman moved forward quickly, steadily, watching intently as the driver of the green pick-up now raced up the on-ramp and merged into the stream of on-coming traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway. Baker sped up, glancing down momentarily to check his speed, and breathing in deeply as he noticed he was now traveling at over seventy miles an hour. Back at the intersection, Ponch met up with the other CHP officer, who, witnessing the collision, immediately called for an ambulance. The two people in the blue mustang were not seriously injured, thus enabling Ponch to continue pursuit of the arson suspect. As he drove up the on-ramp and accelerated, merging onto the freeway, Ponch heard his partner's voice over the radio. "L.A., 7 Mary 3, still in pursuit of suspected arsonist. Now traveling on the Santa Monica Freeway, just passing Sepulveda. Vehicle is a green, 1975 Ford Ranger, license plate Alpha, Sierra,..." Suddenly, Jon's voice wavered and the transmission went dead. Worried, Ponch picked up his pace, racing along the freeway in search of his partner. Jon was not prepared for what happened next. As he neared the Sepulveda off-ramp, he reached again for his mike, knowing he was closing the gap between himself and the suspect, even though they were driving at very dangerous speeds, weaving back and forth and in and out of traffic. Officer Baker accelerated, and elatedly realized he could now make out the license plate of the truck and began to speak into his microphone. Just then, as he sped past the Sepulveda off-ramp, happening so quickly the CHP officer could not even react, Jon was astonished to see the brake lights from the back of the pick-up abruptly glaring at him. Without warning, it came to a screeching, grinding, tire squealing halt, so harshly that the truck whirled around to one side, stopping dead, sideways, on the freeway. Too close to the pick-up, and taken by complete surprise as he spoke on the radio, Jon slammed on the brakes of the motorcycle, a pained expression on his face as he realized a collision with the suspect's vehicle was unavoidable. In mid-sentence, he dropped the mike, sharply hit the side of the green truck and flipped over the handlebars of his motorcycle, the momentum causing him to fly head over heels across the pick-up. Jon never heard the crashing metal of his motorcycle as it bounced over and over and he landed with a hard thud, his head hitting the pavement sharply. Everything went black as the motor officer lost consciousness, lying motionless in the far right lane of the freeway. The pick-up turned quickly and accelerated away, but not before causing several other cars to crash behind Jon, who was oblivious to the chain of events occurring around him, as the suspected arsonist sped away, away and free. Moments later, dark-haired Ponch stopped his motorcycle and hurried to his partner's side. His face was ashen as he gently touched Jon's shoulder, getting no response. Officer Poncherello stared down at his friend, noticing with fear the large crack in the helmet, then gathering his composure, ran back to his motorcycle and picked up the mike, nearly screaming into it. "L.A., this is 7 Mary 4! I need paramedics and ambulances, north of the Sepulveda off-ramp on the Santa Monica Freeway. There are several vehicles involved in accidents and I have a Code I. Seven Mary 3 has been injured. Please send back up. And L.A., Code 4 on the pursuit, we've lost the suspect." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Paramedic John Gage walked into the locker room at Station 51 and reached to open his locker. Smiling, he dropped his arm and decided that this time he would fool the Phantom, certain that the prankster had sabotaged his locker once again with a water bomb. Johnny's thoughts were positive of that fact when he turned and saw fellow firefighter Chet Kelly, AKA the Phantom, walk into the locker room. Gage smiled. He knew Chet always liked to see his handiwork and its effects on him. He quickly turned to face the stocky firefighter. "So, Chet, you just had to walk in here now to watch, didn't you?" Johnny smirked, purposely not opening his locker, and staring at the shorter, wavy-haired man. Chet looked at him as though he didn't know what he was talking about. "Watch what, Gage? You getting dressed? Hey, what do you take me for?" "You came in here right now so you could watch the water bomb you planted in my locker hit me. Admit it, Kelly, I know you and I know that's exactly why you chose this very minute to come in here. But, guess what? I'm not going to open my locker right now, so you'll just have to go get your morning laugh from somebody else," Johnny replied, matter-of-factly. "Gage, I have no idea what you're talking about. Ya know, I think living on that ranch of yours in the mountains with all the fresh air up there is melting that pea-sized brain of yours," Chet retorted, and stripping off the black t-shirt he had worn into work, reached into his locker, grabbing both his uniform shirt and a white undershirt. Johnny frowned and leaned up against his still closed locker, studying his nemesis as he pulled the undershirt over his head. "C'mon, Chet, do you really think I think that you didn't hide a water bomb in my locker?" Chet seemed to be concentrating on now buttoning up his light blue fireman's shirt and didn't turn to look at the paramedic. "Johnny, I just got here. I didn't have time to rig a water bomb in your dumb locker. Can't you see I'm getting changed? Everyone else is already sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee, and that's where I want to be right now." He reached back into his locker and pulled out his uniform pants. Johnny stared at the stocky man, quizzically. "Then you're telling me there's no water bomb inside my locker?" "No water bomb, Gage. Honest, now would I lie to you?" Chet looked at Gage with puppy-dog eyes. "Okay, but if I open this locker and get hit with a water bomb, I'm going to pulverize you, Kelly!"  Turning, Johnny opened his locker, so slowly and cautiously, Chet almost couldn't keep from laughing. Finally, when the locker door was nearly fully opened, Johnny looked over to Chet, making a face and did not see the intended "bomb"  was just shooting out at him from the loaded spring hidden inside. The paramedic was caught off-guard at the sudden loud booming sounds which came from within his locker and was struck by several small white balls of something. Startled, Gage ducked defensively, colliding with the bench behind him and fell over it, onto his backside, watching with disdain as Chet Kelly roared, laughing so hard he had to hold his belly. Johnny picked himself up off the floor and looked at the burst balloons in his locker and the marshmallows lying on the floor beside him. "Now, what'd ya have to go and do that for? You said nothing was in my locker, you big, lying...jerk!" the paramedic yelled at Chet, pulling off the red shirt he had worn into work, and putting his department issued light blue uniform shirt on. "Hey, I said there was no water bomb inside your locker!" Kelly said, still laughing. "You should have seen the look on your face when the balloons exploded..." Johnny made another face and finished dressing in his department issued uniform. At least he wasn't wet. Chet, in his uniform already, wishing he'd had a camera ready, chuckled some more and left the locker room to head for the kitchen and a well-deserved cup of coffee. As he walked towards the kitchen, entertaining thoughts of revenge for the Phantom, Johnny was interrupted as the klaxon tones went off. "Station 51, Station 36, Squad 45, vehicle accidents with injuries on the Santa Monica Freeway, north of Sepulveda, Santa Monica Freeway, north of Sepulveda. Time out 08:01." Johnny reached the squad and got in, joined a moment later by his partner and best friend, Roy DeSoto, who opened the driver's side door, sat down and started the engine. Their captain, Hank Stanley, acknowledged the call and ran around the squad to join the rest of his crew in the fire engine. Seconds later both emergency vehicles were driving out of the bay and towards the scene of their incident. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Station 51 was the first to arrive at the scene of the multiple car pile-up on the Santa Monica Freeway. Instantly, the paramedics made their way to the side panels of the squad to retrieve the equipment that they knew they would need in order to treat the victims. While their backs were turned towards the panels, Johnny felt a tug on the back of his uniform sleeve and turned to look at the person responsible. Immediately a look of recognition crossed over his face and he gave a slight smile. "Ponch! What the heck happened...?" Johnny began, but was cut off and taken back by the look of immense concern covering the CHP officer's face. "Johnny, Roy! I'm so glad its you two who are here.' Look, it's Jon...he's been hurt, please follow me," Ponch replied gravely and without saying more, turned to lead the way. The two paramedics followed, carrying the medical supplies and jogged towards where the injured officer still lay on the asphalt, glancing around quickly in an effort to assess the whole situation. Ponch, reading their minds, spoke up. "Look, Bear is out there directing traffic around us and I've had Grossman do a check on the victims of the other cars. Most of them aren't injured, just some scrapes and bruises. Jon seems to be the worst one here. He's been unconscious now for ten minutes. You gotta help him!" They reached Jon's side and knelt down, immediately doing a primary survey as Station 36's sirens could be heard arriving at the scene. The CHP had the accident area of the freeway sectioned off, and Officer Baricza was expertly directing traffic around and out of the way of the wrecked cars. Captain Stanley joined them just then, gasping as he recognized the comatose police officer, knowing that he and Ponch were friends with his paramedics. "Hey, I did a walk around, there are six cars involved in the collision. We have only one car where there are two victims trapped and they are both conscious. Everyone else appears to be okay, but I'll have Squad 36 check them out. Engine 36 is not needed, I'm sending them back and canceling Squad 45. I've got Mike and Marco working the jaws to get the trapped victims out of the one car. You two work on Officer Baker. I've got an ambulance coming," Hank advised. "Thanks, Cap," Johnny replied, grimly, not even watching as his captain turned to walk back to help his other men. Gage, upset that the victim was once again a police officer friend of his, concentrated and focused his attention on taking Jon's vital signs. He pulled a pad of paper, along with his green pen, from out of his shirt pocket and wrote them down as Roy carefully removed Baker's helmet and attached a cervical collar around his neck. Johnny then scooted over to where he had placed the biophone and set up communications with Rampart General Hospital. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?" the dark-haired paramedic replied into the receiver. "51, this is Rampart, go ahead," the voice of Dr. Kel Brackett answered. "Rampart, we are at the scene of a multi-car collision, with one victim so far. He's a 29 year old CHP officer, injured by a fall off his motorcycle. He's unconscious and has been now for nearly fifteen minutes. Pupils are sluggish and there's little response to pain stimuli. Vital signs are, pulse 110, respirations 18 and BP 130 over 80. There doesn't appear to be any broken bones. We have him on six liters of oxygen and have applied a cervical collar. Possible neck and spinal injuries, we're gonna place him on a backboard as a precaution." "Ten-four, 51. Start IV with D5W, TKO and monitor vital signs. Is there any sign of fluid in the ears? Do you suspect internal injuries?" Dr. Brackett asked. Ponch's expression was grim as Roy leaned over Jon and peered into his ears. Next, DeSoto gently palpated Officer Baker's midsection. The older paramedic looked back at his partner and shook his head, then reached for the ordered IV. "Negative, Rampart. No fluid in the ears, no rigidity felt in the abdominal area," Gage said, holding the biophone receiver between his ear and shoulder while rubbing his face with one hand as he returned his green pen to his shirt pocket with the other. "Ten-four, 51. Transport as soon as possible, advise if there are any changes in vitals or consciousness level," Kel ordered. "Ten-four, Rampart," Johnny ended his conversation. The ambulance had arrived and as the paramedics waited for the attendants to lift Jon up on the stretcher, they approached Ponch. "You never did tell us what happened," Roy reminded the young officer. Ponch was staring at his partner, deep worry etched on his face. "You know, this is the thing. We had just left central and started out on our motors. We were driving along Industrial when we saw smoke coming out of the windows of an old, abandoned factory. So we stopped to check it out, ya know? And then there was this huge explosion, and some guy comes running out of the building and just takes off...so we follow him. He causes a minor T.A. at the intersection and takes off on the freeway there. I had to stop to make sure the people of the accident were okay, and Jon went on ahead. The next thing I know, I drive here and Jon is laying in the freeway unconscious, his motor is T.C'd and he won't wake up! I spoke briefly to some of the witnesses and they all said the guy we were following stopped his truck in the middle of the freeway so fast Jon just plowed into the side of it and flew off his bike. And that, gentlemen is what happened!" Johnny looked at Roy as Jon was being loaded into the ambulance, then glanced back towards Ponch. "So, in a nutshell, what happened is you were following an arsonist and Jon got hurt?" "Yeah. You know if you check, you can probably find out about the factory it looks like he set fire to. If this guy is an arsonist, then you, the Fire Department, are involved. And this guy hurt my partner, so that means, I'm involved. And I'm gonna get him, if it's the last thing I do!" Ponch exclaimed, poking his finger into his chest and making a silent vow to himself. "Look, is Jon going to be all right?" "We're taking him to Rampart, he's stable now. But it looks like he has a head injury, we don't know right now how severe. Brackett is one of the best, though, so rest assured Jon's in good hands, " Roy tried to comfort the distraught police officer. "Roy, I'll go with him in the ambulance," Gage volunteered, quietly, also worrying that Officer Baker had still not regained consciousness. Inside, Johnny couldn't help but remember the time years ago that one of his closest friends, also a police officer, had been killed following a motor vehicle accident. Drew's death came back to haunt him all over again as Johnny ignored the knot that had erupted in his stomach and also made a silent vow that he would not lose this friend. Roy nodded acknowledgement and headed back towards the squad. Ponch walked over to his motorcycle, put on his helmet and watched as Gage jumped into the ambulance. "I'll be right behind you!" the dark-haired CHP officer called out, mounting his motorcycle and turning the engine on. Then quietly to himself, Ponch muttered, "Take good care of him, Johnny." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* At the hospital, Johnny jumped out of the ambulance, holding Jon's IV bag with one hand, and accompanied the attendants pushing the stretcher into Exam Room 4. Inside the room, Dr. Brackett and Dr. Morton, along with Nurse Dixie McCall met him. They transferred the still comatose police officer onto the examining table and Gage hung the IV bag up on the holder. He then stood back slightly, watching worriedly as the medical staff worked on his friend. For a moment, Johnny reflected back on how he had met Jon and Ponch. He had been pulled over by them while traveling along the 405 one day, nearly a year ago, speeding because he was running late for work. As soon as the two officers learned he was a firefighter, they had released him with a warning, and they had later on, coincidentally, met up that same day while working a motor vehicle collision. It was then that the three of them, along with Roy, developed a friendship, with Johnny sharing Officer Baker's love of horses and riding. The two of them had been riding countless times at Johnny's ranch in the hills, often with Ponch and Roy coming along to sit on the fence and watch as they roped calves. The four friends would meet up as often as their schedules would allow shooting pool or relaxing at one of their homes with a beer or two. Johnny stood, almost numb, as he toned out the flurry of activity around him, and recalled the last time he, Roy, Jon and Ponch had gotten together. It had been only two days before. "Ya know, Johnny, you're a lucky guy," Jon said to the dark-haired medic, sitting across from him, atop his mount as they steadied their horses and waited for Roy to walk over and pull open the gate that would let the calf loose. Johnny eyed him, curiously. "What do you mean?" "You have a pretty nice spread here. It musta taken a lot to save the money to buy a place like this," Jon replied, and gathered the rope securely in his hand. Gage nodded and smiled. "Yeah, but I did get a great deal. And it means a lot to me. I was raised on a ranch in Montana." Baker whistled. "Montana, huh? Well, ol' buddy, ol' neighbor, I'm from Wyoming. I sure wish I could save enough money to buy a place like this." Laughing, Johnny replied. "So are you telling me the CHP doesn't pay you enough to ride those death traps on a daily basis?" "Death traps? You call what I do a death trap? C'mon, Johnny, like walking into a burning building isn't even more of a death trap! Besides, I love my motor! Almost as much as I love 'Old Gray' here! And, by the way, thanks a ton for letting me board him here." "Don't mention it! Hey, anytime Roy!" Gage replied, nodding to his partner, who threw open the latch of the gate. The calf ran ahead, and instantly Jon and Johnny galloped after it. Johnny was the header, while Jon took up the rear, roping the calf's hind legs. In a matter of seconds, they had the small animal tied and stopped. Excited, Johnny ran his mount back towards the fence where Ponch was sitting, looking at the stopwatch in his hand. "Seven seconds!" the dark-haired CHP officer exclaimed. "One of your best times yet!" Galloping back to where Jon was waiting on Old Gray, Johnny repeated their time. "Seven seconds!" "Seven seconds," the medic stated, whispering to no one in particular, for the moment his daydream alive in his mind and effectively blocking out what was happening in the treatment room around him. "Gage? Gage? I asked you if there was any change in his conscious level," Dr. Morton was asking, staring straight at the paramedic who had been completely lost in his thoughts. He waved a hand in front of Johnny's ashen face, unaware that the paramedic and the patient were friends. "Oh, sorry, doc, no, um, no change at all, he didn't regain consciousness even for a moment," Johnny replied in a small, concerned voice, shaking his head and blinking, coming back from his memory. A portable x-ray unit arrived in the room, and suddenly Johnny felt like he was suffocating. He quietly backed out of the room and stood up against the wall outside where he was met by Roy and Ponch. "Any word how he is?" Ponch asked the exiting nurse and doctors. Dr. Morton had his usual look of seriousness and Dixie hung her head down, leaving Brackett to answer Ponch's question. "Well, he's unconscious still. I'll know better when I see the films. Miraculously, he doesn't seem to have any broken bones or internal injuries, but that head injury is quite a concern right now. Look, fellas, I'll be back in a few minutes," Kel stated and walked towards his office. Dixie patted Ponch's arm and left with Morton, leaving the three friends some time alone. Ponch leaned up against the wall beside Johnny, his normally dark complexion seeming pale. Not knowing what to say, with the worry he was feeling causing his stomach to knot, he stood quietly for several seconds, staring down at the floor. Hearing footprints approaching a moment later, Ponch glanced up to see his sergeant, Joe Getraer, walking stealthily towards them. He wasted no time in getting to the point. "How's Baker?" the sergeant asked, looking from one man to another. The expressions of concern on all three of their faces did not get by him. Johnny sighed, brushed his hair back with his hand, and pushed himself away from the wall. "They're working on him right now. X-ray just went in. Looks like a head injury of some kind. We'll know soon," Johnny replied softly. Sergeant Getraer nodded, then focused his attention on Ponch. "Look, he's gonna be okay. You can stay here until we get word back on his condition. Then we have some investigating to do." Ponch stared at his superior. "Yeah, you better believe it, Sarge. Witnesses at the scene told us the guy stopped so suddenly that Jon didn't even have a chance, he just crashed into the side and flipped over the truck. I'm gonna find that son of a bitch who did this to him." "Now, Poncherello, don't go getting yourself in a half-cocked state. Everything is going to be okay. But I want to tell you that the green pick-up truck Jon was chasing turned up a few minutes ago. It was about three miles from your location, sitting parked on the side of the freeway. Looks like the guy abandoned it, set the thing on fire and vamoosed. And we ran the plates. The truck was reported as stolen last night." Johnny and Roy glanced at the man, then at their dark-haired friend. "This guy seems to like to set fires, doesn't he?" Roy asked. "Well, that's not the worst part of it. Not only was he the cause of one of my men getting hurt, but I just got word that one of your firefighter's was badly burned in that factory the creep set fire to this morning. They brought him in here a while ago. And they don't expect him to make it," Sergeant Getraer advised grimly. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny and Roy sat at the kitchen table in the station, silently drinking coffee that had turned cold. They were both upset by the news of the fireman who had been severely burned in the factory arson, as well as Jon Baker's injury from the morning, and were still soberly waiting for news on how they were doing. The paramedics had been forced to leave the hospital after getting toned out to another call, which involved a near drowning of a child in a backyard pool. They had rescued the child, performed artificial respiration and the little girl had miraculously revived in their arms. During their follow-up at Rampart, they had met up again with Officer Poncherello, who was sitting in the waiting room, anxiously waiting to see his partner. But there had been no change in Jon's condition and he still had not woken up. While they were talking, Dixie had walked up to them to give them the news on the firefighter, Shane McCauley, from Station 107, who had been working on the factory fire that had allegedly been started by Jon and Ponch's arson suspect. She had sadly informed them that the rookie fireman was in critical condition with burns to over eighty percent of his body. He had gotten trapped inside the factory when part of the ceiling caved in. It had taken his fellow firefighters nearly thirty minutes to rescue him, but by that point he had suffered massive third degree burns. His oxygen had also ran out and his airway was severely damaged by smoke inhalation. Deeply saddened, the two young paramedics had driven back to their station to try to deal with the day's events and their emotions. Captain Stanley had informed them, before being toned out to a trash fire, that police and firefighters investigating the suspicious blaze in the factory had confirmed that it was indeed a clear cut case of arson. They had found the remnants of a homemade bomb, as well as several cans of gasoline inside. Finally, sitting at the kitchen table, after what seemed like hours of silence between the two, Johnny put his coffee cup down and looked at his partner. "Death traps," was all Gage managed to say. He stared down at his cup and the half filled contents inside. Roy looked at him quizzically. "What?" He was glad the two of them were alone right now. "Death traps. That's what motorcycles are. I hardly ever ride mine anymore. I told Jon so many times that the motors he loved riding at work were nothing but death traps. And you know what he told me?" Johnny asked, looking at Roy with a grim expression on his face. DeSoto shook his head. "No, what?" "He told me...he told me that being in a burning building was even more of a death trap," Johnny snorted. Roy looked deeply into his partner's troubled brown eyes. "He was right. And being in a burning building where some nut purposely sets fire to it is absolutely the worst kind of death trap. You know, today, two good men have been seriously injured because of this guy. I hope they find him before anybody else gets hurt." Gage nodded, took a sip of his cold coffee and made a face. As he stood up away from the table, the ringing of the phone startled him slightly, but he walked over and picked it up. "Station 51, Paramedic Gage speaking," he replied as Roy watched, hoping that the call was from the hospital regarding Jon and Shane and that the news was good. However, his hopes were diminished when he saw the look on his partner's face as he hung up the phone. "Johnny?" the older medic said, softly, worry obvious in his voice. Johnny slumped himself back down in his seat at the table. The sad, stunned look on his face was evidence that the news was definitely bad. "That, ah...that was Dixie. Shane died a few minutes ago...and Jon is still in a coma," the young Los Angeles medic whispered, making great attempts to control his sorrow, and realizing that the arson suspect was now, amongst other things, a murder suspect. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* At the California Highway Patrol's central office on West Washington Boulevard, Officer Frank Poncherello sat glumly at the desk in the conference room. All the available police on shift had been called in for an emergency meeting to be informed of the death of the young firefighter who had worked the factory fire and the latest news regarding Officer Jon Baker's injury while he had been in pursuit of the arson suspect. Sergeant Getraer stood at the front of the room behind the podium, as he always did, with as nearly a sour expression on his face as was on Ponch's, while he spoke to his officers. "Now, I know you have all heard about Jon's crash this morning. He is still, from what I understand, in a comatose state. He has a bad head injury and the doctors at Rampart are doing everything they can for him. But right now it is touch and go, and the longer he remains unconscious, the more likely he will suffer from serious side effects. He doesn't have a fractured skull, as was first thought, and as far as they can tell, it is probably a concussion, the severity of which is not entirely known at this time. We're really lucky, the way that arson suspect stopped in the middle of the freeway like that, with the speeds they were going, Jon could have easily been killed instantly. So, Dr. Brackett, at Rampart, has told me that the minute Jon wakes up, or his condition changes, he'll call. "Also, I want you all to be aware that this creep is still out there. Seems he stole the truck he was driving away from the factory, the night before, which tells us that his setting fire to the place was clearly calculated. He even made a homemade bomb, which Officer Poncherello can tell you was forceful enough to knock him and Jon both to the ground. This guy is dangerous, and unfortunately since he got away with it once, I'm certain he's gonna try it again, so stay on your toes. "And another thing, one of the firemen called out to the scene of the factory fire was severely burned and died a couple of hours ago. He left behind his young wife, who is six months pregnant. Officers Baker and Poncherello, sadly, didn't get close enough to get a description of this guy, but I want him. This nut is a murderer and I want him caught, and I hope to God another person doesn't get hurt or lose their life because of him. "Okay, get out there, stay alert and we'll keep you informed on Officer Baker's recovery," Getraer ended his speech. As the officers got up to make their way out of the room, he noticed Ponch still sitting at the desk, staring down, worry and sadness etched into his facial features. The sergeant walked over to him and placed a hand on the dark-haired officer's shoulder. "Frank, I don't have another motor officer to ride with you for the rest of the shift. If you like, you can go with Baricza in the cruiser," Joe replied, gently, knowing how upset his officer was. Ponch shook his head. "Thanks, Sarge, but if it's okay, I'll just ride alone. There are only a couple hours left in the shift anyway. If it's all the same to you, I would prefer to go to Rampart and just wait. They only let me in to see Jon for a couple minutes, and he didn't even wake up! Sarge, what if...what if he wakes up and...and he doesn't know me, he has amnesia, or something? Sarge, what if...what if Jon never wakes up?" Getraer noticed the fearful expression in his officer's dark brown eyes. He sat down beside him on the bench. "Look, Frank, Jon is young and strong and Dr. Brackett seems to think he is going to be all right. We all have to hold the faith and hope that he is going to wake up and be fine. I know it's scary to think of the 'what ifs', but you can't do that, Frank, you'll drive, not only yourself crazy, but me too! Now, you know what we're up against, I want you to be on the look-out for anyone who might be hanging around old abandoned buildings. Why don't you use the next couple hours of your shift to motor down along Industrial Avenue and see if you might find any more suspicious activity? And look, don't worry so much about Jon, he's gonna be okay." Ponch rose from his seat and smiled weakly at his superior. "Okay, Sarge, and you know what? I'm gonna find this guy, bet on it, I'm gonna find this guy!" E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Captain Stanley sadly entered the day room at Station 51, where the rest of the crew, with the exception of Engineer Mike Stoker, sat around the table, and glum expressions on their faces. Upon learning the news of the death of Shane McCauley, and being unable to eat, Mike had gone outside to lower the flag to half-mast. Although the crew had barely known the twenty-six year old firefighter, it always hit them hard when one of their own was killed in the line of duty. And it was an especially tough pill to swallow knowing his death had been caused by an act of purposeful calculation, and had been totally unnecessary. He had been, in essence, murdered by an arsonist, someone who had gone out and decided for some reason to set fire to a building, knowing full-well the consequences this act held. Now, a young husband and father-to-be was dead and a California Highway Patrol officer lay comatose in a hospital bed, both victims of this person's highly dangerous, illegal and immoral actions. Johnny got up from the table as Mike re-entered the kitchen and began to clean up the dishes from their late lunch. He noticed most of the food on the plates had gone untouched as he scraped it into the trash can. All the men were upset by Shane's death and had trouble eating the soup and sandwiches that Mike had prepared. But Johnny was also deeply troubled by his friend, Jon Baker's injury. It had been six hours and he had not so much as stirred. Gage was deep in thought as he filled the sink with hot water and detergent and started to wash the dishes. He was unaware that Cap had gathered up the other men for a talk and did not even notice they were all seated around the table, staring at him. Stanley had called his name twice with no acknowledgement, and now went to  the sink where the young paramedic stood. Johnny jumped as he felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder, and glanced over to see his superior looking at him with concern. "John, would you care to join the rest of us? I'd like to have a discussion," Hank said, frowning as he noticed the dark-haired paramedic's facial expression. Nodding, Gage wiped his hands dry and took his chair at the table. "Just want to let you know I just got off the phone with the Chief. He was speaking to the police and it seems they are pretty certain this...this arsonist will strike again. So, I just want to warn you all to be extra careful out there, we don't know what he's capable of...," Captain Stanley started, but was interrupted by a disgruntled John Gage. "Yes, we do, Cap. We know he's capable of murdering a firefighter and attempted murder of a police officer.  He's one of the worst kind of people. He's not afraid to kill...," the dark-haired medic spoke softly. The senior fire officer hesitated before answering, allowing the chill that had swept down his spine to settle. "That being said, I want you all to take extra precautions whenever there is a fire that we're called to. An arsonist can make any dwelling, any building, any place a death trap for us. Until this guy is caught, we're gonna have to stay on our toes. Stick together, and call for back-up whenever something doesn't seem right. Got it?" Hank asked, looking around the table at his men, and in particular, Johnny. The dark-haired paramedic looked up at his captain, ready to retort, but did not get the chance to. The klaxon sounded, causing all six men to jump from the table and hurry towards the bay where their emergency vehicles were parked. "Squad 51, man injured. 14765 Delta Avenue, 1-4-7-6-5 Delta Avenue, cross street Bingham. Time out 14:20." Mike Stoker ran to open up the bay door, as Captain Stanley wrote the address down on a piece of paper and acknowledged the dispatcher. He handed the paper to Roy, who in turn passed it to Johnny in the passenger seat and the squad started out towards their call. A few minutes later, the paramedics stopped their vehicle in front of a nice-looking brick house, with a well manicured front lawn. Pulling in the driveway, Roy parked the squad and they both hurried out to the side panels to retrieve their equipment. The dispatcher had not been very specific, so they really had no idea how badly injured, or what type of injuries they were dealing with. Johnny pulled out the biophone, trauma and drug box, while Roy grabbed oxygen and the splint box and they walked quickly up the path towards the front door. Johnny was just about to ring the doorbell when the door opened. He was ushered into the home by a middle aged woman with short, dark hair, wearing nothing but a robe and slippers. She breathed in a sigh and replied, "Follow me, he's over here in the kitchen." The two paramedics exchanged glances at the woman's coolness, but followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, where a man in his mid forties sat at the table, moaning. Instantly, Gage and DeSoto put the equipment they were carrying on the floor and hurried to his side. "What seems to be the problem?" Roy asked, doing a primary survey on the semi-balding man. "Look, it's no big deal, he cut himself," the woman replied before the man had a chance to. "He's nothing but a big baby, always makes a mountain out of a molehill. I could have bandaged him up myself, but he insisted, like the dramatic play actor he is, that I call you people here." With that said, the woman huffed loudly and moved out of the way. "Don't lie to them, Marion. I didn't cut myself and you know it! You cut me!" the man corrected, then held out his arm, showing the medics the nasty three inch gash in his upper left arm. It was bleeding profusely and Johnny looked at the woman, bewildered. "You cut him?" Gage asked incredulously, as he reached into the trauma box for a dressing . "What'd ya go and do that for?" "Well, I don't think that's any of your business!" the woman answered defensively. "Marion!" "Oh, shut up, Peter! You know you were asking for it!" Marion stated, putting her hands on her hips, watching in disgust as Johnny unbuttoned Peter's shirt and carefully removed it, in order to have a better look at the cut. "Look, you have a pretty bad gash here. I think you're going to need to see a doctor and have some stitches," Roy advised. It wasn't an emergency, and they didn't need to transport, but he offered to call for an ambulance. Marion flatly shook her head. "Over my dead body you'll call for an ambulance and make me pay to take 'Baby Boy' here to the hospital! I've had worse cuts then that and I've dealt with them myself!" "Now, I really think you should go to the hospital as soon as possible. We can bandage you up, but if the bleeding persists, you'll need to get stitches," Roy reiterated as Johnny gently bandaged up the wound. "Okay, I'll drive out right away. Thanks, guys for coming out here. I didn't know if she hit a vein, or if I was going to bleed to death or what!" Peter replied. Standing, the paramedics smiled unsurely at the man. "Well, if you're sure you'll go see a doctor, then there's not much more we can do for you here. So, we're gonna take off," Johnny replied, reaching down to pack up the equipment they had brought into the house with them. The man smiled back, appreciatively. "Yeah, sometimes we fight, ya know? I just picked the wrong time to start it, next time I'll wait until after she's done cutting up the onions!" he whispered as he walked the astonished medics out. Gage and DeSoto had no sooner gotten seated in the squad and made them available when the voice of the dispatcher came over their microphone. "Squad 51, stand by for response," the voice advised, then continued. "Squad 51, Engine 51, Station 36, fire at the convenience store, 3890 Gilbert, 3-8-9-0 Gilbert, cross street McKay, time out 14:48." "Squad 51, ten-four," Johnny acknowledged into the mike, as Roy started the squad, turned the lights and siren on and drove towards the scene of their next incident. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Upon their arrival at the small grocery store on Gilbert, Johnny and Roy jumped out of the squad, donning their turnout coats, and watched as Engine 51 roared up and parked behind them on the street. They glanced over towards the store and noticed it was well engulfed and people were standing around on the sidewalk watching. Captain Stanley took charge immediately as Station 36's sirens could be faintly heard coming down the street. "Marco, Chet, get a two and a half to the back, the fire looks like it is the worst there. Johnny, Roy, go inside and look around for any victims." "Right away, Cap!" Chet replied as he and Marco went to grab the reel line. Johnny and Roy were already putting on their SCBA's and headed quickly inside the structure. The medics helped two customers out of the convenience store, who were coughing and covered with soot, and left them in the care of Squad 36's paramedic team, Russ Thornton, and Jeremy Stivers. Roy and Johnny then re-entered the building, where they found the clerk lying on the floor, near the back of the store, unconscious, and quickly carried him out. Roy stayed with him as Johnny went back inside to complete the search for any other victims. As he walked hurriedly around the aisles, Johnny was relieved to see that there was only one customer in the store, who, apparently, had not been able to get out. He knelt down to where the older woman was lying on the floor, coughing, unable to get up. She had a look of terror in her eyes as Johnny touched her arm. "No! Go away! Please don't hurt me!" she screamed, in between coughing fits. Johnny was momentarily shocked by her words. "Ma'am, I'm a fireman, I'm here to help you get out of here," the young medic explained. "Oh no! I thought you were the man who was in the back, who set fire to this place!" she replied and allowed Johnny to help her into a sitting position. "What? C'mon, do you think you can stand? I can help you," Gage stated and grabbed her under the arm. "Yes, I'm okay, just a little trouble...breathing! Please, let's...get out of here!" Supporting her with his arm around her waist, Johnny aided the fifty-something, graying haired woman out of the store. He walked with her over to where Roy was just finishing his IV on the store clerk, who was just beginning to wake up. Their other two victims, a young man and woman were being treated by Russ and Jeremy, who were on the biophone to Rampart, advising them of the situation and receiving direction from Dr. Early. As Johnny gently laid the woman down, on the blanket that Captain Stanley had unfolded on the grass, the sounds of another siren could be heard coming towards them. Looking up quickly, as he reached for an oxygen mask, Gage saw a CHP motorcycle approach. He knew it was Ponch as he knelt down to take his casualty's pulse. The dark-haired officer ran towards them, watching as Johnny, Roy and 36's paramedics, Russ Thornton and Jeremy Stivers, worked on the four persons injured in the blaze. Once they had all received oxygen, they appeared to be all right, with the exception of the clerk, a young man, who had also suffered some burns. When everything was under control, and the fire had been extinguished, Ponch looked to Johnny and Roy for answers. Jeremy and Russ offered to accompany the clerk to Rampart, leaving Gage and DeSoto at the scene to cleanup. "Look, I heard about the fire and was in the vicinity, so I thought I would come down and see what happened, before getting off shift," Ponch started, watching as Johnny re-checked the vitals on the gray-haired lady who he had helped out of the store. "Well, Officer, I believe I can be of some assistance to you," the woman replied, and stood up. "I'm all right, thank you, young man," she stated to Johnny. Ponch looked at the woman, and pulled out his notebook. "Okay, did you see what happened? What's your name, ma'am?" "Yes, I did see what happened. My name is Glenda Stuart. I just live down the street and needed some bread, so I stopped here on my way home from work. While I was in the store, I saw this strange-looking person, come in. He was just a short, stocky kinda guy, wore a big black, floppy hat, black coat, and black jeans. I mean, he looked like a real mess, " Mrs. Stuart said, a strange expression on her face. "What do you mean, he looked a mess?" Ponch asked, writing hurriedly in his notebook, everything the woman was saying. "Well, he looked like some kind of a street person. I didn't get a real good look at his face, because the big hat shielded it. I thought it was strange how he was dressed all in black, with a long coat, in the middle of June, on such a hot day! Anyway, he went to the back of the store, and I glanced over for a moment and watched as he threw something and immediately ran out! The young clerk, he went back there to check it out. Then we heard this explosion and I fell to the floor and the place was on fire!" Captain Stanley, who had walked up and was carefully listening to the victim's story, nodded his head. He took his paramedics and Officer Poncherello aside and looked at them, a serious expression on his face. "Marco and Chet just confirmed, they found a small box at the back of the store. It appears to be some kind of a homemade bomb!" E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* It was early evening and Johnny and Roy were at Rampart, doing a follow-up from a heart attack call they had just been to. The man had collapsed at his home and they had rushed in, doing everything in their power to save the elderly victim, but moments after their arrival at the hospital, he had flat-lined, and Dr. Morton had been unable to save him. As the medics soberly made their way out of the treatment room and to the nurses station, they noticed Ponch was there waiting for them, wearing his civilian clothes. His shift had ended hours before and he had gone back to Rampart to stand vigil next to his friend's bedside. As Gage and DeSoto approached the nurses' station, they couldn't help but see a small smile escape from the CHP officer's lips. They didn't even get a chance to open their mouths. "Johnny, Roy! He's awake! Jon's awake!" Ponch exclaimed excitedly. "Do you have a minute, you can come up and see for yourselves! He's awake!" Not even waiting for the paramedics to answer, Ponch turned and led the way to the elevator, as Dixie smiled and waved, the huge grin on Johnny's face not getting past her. Both he and Roy ran to catch up with Poncherello, as the motor officer reached the elevator doors, and slammed on the button, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. As they made their way up in the elevator and walked to Jon's room, Ponch could barely control his emotions. "He's doing really well! Dr. Brackett is stunned by it, stunned! He only has a bit of memory loss, concerning the accident but that is completely normal, Dr. Brackett said! But he is fine, absolutely fine! He should be outta here in the next couple of days!" The three friends reached the room of their fallen comrade and Ponch opened the door and peered in. Johnny and Roy followed, looking at the bed in which Officer Baker lay. As they approached, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly up at them. "Johnny, Roy, it's good to see you!" Jon replied, softly. "Hey, we're really glad to see you! You had us pretty worried about you, man," Gage said, silently assessing the young patrolman. He could see he had scrapes and bruises all about his face and neck area, and Johnny could only assume that the hospital gown hid most of the other abrasions. Baker looked utterly exhausted and was still somewhat pale. But he was awake and obviously doing well. "Yeah, it's funny, Ponch tried to tell me what the heck happened, but I don't remember any of it. The last thing I can remember is being at that factory when it exploded and chasing after some guy who came running out of it." "You were lucky, Jon," Roy spoke up. "You hit the pavement pretty hard." "So, did Brackett say when you're gonna get outta here?" Johnny asked. "Well, I'm here until at least day after tomorrow for observation. He didn't seem to like that I was unconscious for nearly twelve hours. God, I hate hospitals! Nobody here will believe me, I keep telling them I'm fine!" Jon insisted, tugging at the blankets, making it obvious he was not one to be kept down. Roy rolled his eyes, everyday it seemed this man was more and more like his partner. "Well, you're not going to move until Dr. Brackett gives you the okay, so just lie there and enjoy it!" Ponch admonished. "Look, Jon, we have to get going, we still have a whole night on duty. Must be nice working those easy eight hour day shifts you guys work!" Johnny said, smiling. "Hey, we'll come back, if we have time, to see you, but you just rest and take it easy. And don't worry about Old Gray, when I get home tomorrow morning, I'll feed him and exercise him, so he'll be in top shape the next time you get over to my place." "Thanks, Johnny. And Roy, I know what you guys did for me and I appreciate it." Officer Baker said, as a nurse entered the room just then. "Gentlemen, it's after eight, visiting hours are over, you'll have to go now," she said, somewhat sternly, tapping her watch for emphasis. The four friends shrugged and exchanged smiles, then Ponch, Johnny and Roy left. Walking down the corridor towards the elevator, the three men felt great relief that Jon was going to be okay. As they entered the elevator, Roy pushed the button to go down to the main floor. "Ponch, are you working tomorrow?" DeSoto asked, turning to walk out as the doors opened. "Yeah, I'm on the seven til three shift again. When are you guys back on?" "We have two days off, we're back Sunday," Johnny informed him. "Hey, as a matter of fact, tomorrow is my last, then I'm back, hopefully with Jon, on Sunday as well." "If he's feelin' up to it, why don't you and Jon come up to my place on Saturday? You too, Roy. We can have a celebratory barbecue," Johnny invited. They walked past the nurses' station, seeing it empty of nurses, and continued out the front entrance to where they had parked the squad. "You know, that sounds great, Johnny! I'll bring the steaks!" Ponch smiled. Roy was about to comment, but was interrupted by the sudden, loud blast of an explosion, coming from somewhere in the hospital. The three men felt the ground shaking under them, and instantly concerned, the paramedics grabbed their turnout coats from the squad and ran back into Rampart. Immediately, people were running around the halls in a panic, not knowing what had happened. They could smell smoke as Roy got on the handy talkie he was carrying. "L.A., this is Squad 51, calling from Rampart General Hospital. There's been an explosion. Respond Engine 51 and a first alarm assignment." "Ten-four, Squad 51," the female dispatcher's voice came through the handy talkie. Roy did not hear her dispatch the fire units out as he glanced over to where Johnny was helping an elderly patient into a wheelchair in an effort to start some sort of evacuation. Ponch was speaking to Dr. Early, who was trying to understand what happened. Both of them were attempting to calm the people who were anxiously running around, not knowing what to do. The smoke was billowing out into the halls, but there was no sign of where the fire started. "Roy!" DeSoto heard his partner call his name and rushed over. "Look, I think it may have happened in the basement, can you take this lady out of here? I'm gonna go down and check it out!" Nodding, but in the back of his head thinking that was not a good idea, the older medic wheeled the elderly woman outside to safety. She was in a panic and it took him several seconds to calm her down. Then, he ran back inside, watching as Ponch and Dr. Early were doing their best to help patients out of the emergency department. Running down the stairs to the basement, Johnny was momentarily startled as he realized the dense smoke was from a fire that was erupting out of a room directly across the hall from the lab. He entered the lab in search of any victims and noticed the technician lying on the floor. Reaching the man's side, Johnny helped him to sit up, silently surveying him. He was covered in soot, obviously shaken, and coughing, but able to breathe. "Are you hurt?" the young paramedic asked the fortyish, semi-balding man, who was adjusting the glasses he was wearing on his face. "No! Just having a bit of trouble...with this smoke!" "Can you stand if I help you?" Gage asked, feeling the irritation now building in his own throat. "Yes, I think so. What the hell happened?" the lab tech asked as he stood up, slowly. "I don't know, but you have to get outta here. Do you know if there are any other people down here?" Johnny questioned, walking with the man towards the stairway. "Don't know! But there was a nurse who came down here a few minutes ago, I don't know if she made her way up or not!" "Okay, look, you go on up, I'm going to take a quick look around and I'll be right up in a minute! You understand?" The man nodded, and coughing, made his way up the stairs. Johnny turned and walked back towards the room across from the lab, attempting to control his breathing, but he was having much difficulty and coughed loudly. His eyes watered as he touched the door to see if it were hot. It was mildly hot, and he opened it slowly, peering inside. The fire was blazing in the back of the large room and the smoke was so thick and black he could barely see anything. But he wanted to know if the nurse was possibly in there so he entered, turning up his coat collar in an attempt to block some of the smoke. Strangely, making his way carefully along inside the room, which, without the glow of the out-of-control blaze would have been completely pitch-black, the young paramedic was certain he could smell gasoline. Ignoring it, momentarily thinking he must be mistaken, Gage continued his search for the nurse, calling at the top of his now much-strained voice. As he tried his best to see, it became obvious that he would have to get out of the room or he would be in trouble. Not seeing anything, Johnny coughed violently and turned to leave the room. As he did so, he saw a black flash of something out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was. For a split second, he thought he saw a person in black clothing, but his eyes were watering too much and he couldn't be sure. Moving towards the door, Gage coughed, nearly choking, then from out of the blue, he felt a hard, painful blow to the back of his neck. Stunned, he fell to the floor, landing on his side, crying out, but not even hearing himself against the roar of the fire. Gage realized he had lost his helmet and before he could reach over to pick it up, he felt another direct hit, this time to the back of his head. Turning around to look up at what was causing his pain, he saw somebody standing above him, holding what appeared to be, a large, heavy club. Glancing up in desperation, as he rose shakily to his knees, Johnny tried to see the face of the person attacking him, but the club shielded it. A mixed expression of fear and disbelief crossed his face as he watched the hands lower the stick with apparent force, and instantaneously, he felt yet another blow to the top of his head. Leveled by the club, Johnny felt his face kiss the floor, and struggled to remain conscious, but everything had become fuzzy, and dazed, he gave in to the darkness that enveloped him. The person in black disappeared out the door, and in seconds, was gone. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Engine 51 arrived at the scene of the fire at Rampart General Hospital. Instantly, Captain Stanley and his crew descended from the truck and watched momentarily as they saw Roy and Ponch wheel a patient in a bed out into the parking lot. Cap ran over to them, and he and Roy began walking towards the entrance. Ponch turned to accompany them, but Hank put his hand up, stopping the young CHP officer. "Sorry, Ponch, but you better wait out here. Thanks for all your help but we can take it from here," Stanley replied, in a tone not meant to be argued with. He looked back to the engine, watching as Marco and Chet were finishing putting on their SCBA's and Mike was charging the lines. "Roy, what happened?" the senior fire officer asked his paramedic, outside the emergency entrance door. "Something exploded. I think it happened somewhere in the basement. Johnny went down to check it out, and Ponch and I were evacuating. I think mostly everyone is out of emergency now. But Johnny...he hasn't come back yet...I think we better go find him," Roy replied, somewhat worriedly. "Marco, Chet, bring a two and a half in here, looks like the fire started in the basement!" Hank called out to his crew. Immediately, the two firemen grabbed the hose and followed their captain and DeSoto inside. The sirens of the accompanying engine company, Station 103, could be heard coming up the street. Cap got on his handy talkie, speaking as he surveyed the scene. "L.A, Engine 51. We have a fire in the basement of Rampart General Hospital. It looks like it's confined to there. Evacuation of the emergency department is in progress. Station 103, bring in smoke fans, and a second two and a half, and meet my men in the basement." As they were walking down the staircase to the basement, both Roy and Hank could see the smoke was quite bad. They were met up with Chet and Marco, who began to hose down the walls in an effort to contain the fire. Walking to the lab, they entered, expecting to see Johnny there, possibly aiding any victims, and were surprised when they saw the lab was empty. Kelly and Lopez, seeing the flames and severe smoke in the room across the hall from the lab, kicked the door open and entered, instantly hosing down the fire that had spread throughout the room. Chet, in the lead, looked down, and in shock, realized that someone was lying on the floor, dangerously close to the flames. He pointed and yelled to Marco, who took over control of the hose, as Chet dropped to kneel beside the victim. Kelly knew it was Johnny before he even finished turning him over. Rushing out of the room, as Marco fought the fire, he ran into the hall to see three firefighters from Station 103 approaching them. He ran up beside Stanley and DeSoto and excitedly, told them of his find. "Roy, Cap! Johnny is in that room!" The two men exchanged glances. Why would Gage have gone into a fire-engulfed room, by himself, without his SCBA? Hurrying, they made their way inside, where they found Johnny a mere five feet from where the flames were billowing out of control. There was no time to examine him, so Roy and Captain Stanley scooped him up quickly, carrying the unconscious paramedic up the stairs, while the firemen continued to battle the blaze. Ponch's eyes were opened wide and the worry was clearly etched on his face as he watched Cap and Roy carry a limp and lifeless Johnny outside. They lowered him gently to the ground, where Roy removed Gage's overturn coat and began to examine him. "Cap, can you get me the oxygen and esophageal equipment from out of the squad?" the auburn-haired medic asked, concern evident. Seeing what was happening, Dr. Early made his way over to help. He knelt down beside the still unconscious paramedic as Roy began to check Gage's ability to breathe. "Roy, he's in respiratory arrest, we better intubate," Joe Early advised, as Roy nodded and grabbed the equipment Hank brought over to them. Once the airway was established, the doctor asked, "What are his vital signs?" DeSoto tried to forget that this was his best friend he was working on, and shakily reached for Johnny's limp right wrist. "Pulse slow and thready at 65." Next, Roy took Gage's blood pressure. "BP, 100 over 60." "Okay, good, he's breathing now. Let's start an IV, D5W, TKO and figure out where we're gonna take him," Dr. Early looked up at Captain Stanley. "Any idea how long it's going to take before things are under control in there?" Cap looked momentarily at his fallen paramedic. "Well, apparently, the fire was contained in the basement, hopefully the fans that Station 103 has put in place on the emergency ward will get the smoke out, I'd say within an hour or two. Hey, is John going to be okay?" Dr. Early glanced down at Johnny, who still had not stirred. "He's stable right now, but I'd like to get him inside to further examine him. He was pretty lucky, by the looks of things if you hadn't gotten him out when you did...,"  (seems rushed) Roy was doing a secondary examination on his partner, checking his legs and arms for broken bones. When he found none, he breathed a sigh of relief, and began to further check him over. Pulling out his pen light, he examined Johnny's pupils and frowned. He looked up at Joe, who had just walked away to speak to a nurse. Ponch caught the look of astonishment on DeSoto's face. "Roy, what is it?" "Hey, Doc," the senior paramedic called out, feeling the sides and back of Johnny's head with his hands and causing Dr. Early to walk back over to him. "His pupils are sluggish and...and he's bleeding from a wound to the back of his head! Doc, it looks like...it looks like something must have hit him on the head! That's why he couldn't get out of that room! It's not just smoke inhalation! He has a head injury!" Both Roy and Ponch felt the hair on the backs of their necks stand up and a shiver escape down their spines. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny slowly opened his eyes, not quite sure where he was or why he had been sleeping. As he looked around and his eyes came into focus, he knew he was in a room at Rampart General Hospital. He caught a glimpse of white to his left and moved his neck to take a closer look, wincing with the pain that the move caused him. He realized his head ached terribly and his whole upper body throbbed. Blinking and ignoring the pain, he looked up at the nurse who was standing next to him, changing his IV bag. "Wha...what happened?" the dark-haired paramedic asked weakly. "Oh, you're awake now! You just lie still while I go get the doctor," she replied, patting him on the arm. Gage's head was full of cobwebs and his throat ached. He made an attempt to sit up, but failed miserably. The pain caused him to stop short but he wanted to know what was going on. He ignored the throbbing once again, and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Dr. Early entered the room and went to his side, putting the paramedic's legs back on the bed and gently pushing him back down against his pillow. Johnny could feel a hand on his abdomen, then a moment later, fingers on his wrist. He pulled away, blankly staring up at the doctor. "Doc, what's going on?" Gage asked once again. "Johnny, how do you feel?" Joe questioned, ignoring him. "Like...like I was hit by a fire truck. My head is killing me, Doc. My neck is killing me. My throat is...killing me," he answered. "That's understandable. Do you remember what happened?" Johnny paused, thinking for a moment. At first he couldn't remember anything, then it all came flooding back to him. His face conveyed astonishment and disbelief. "Johnny...do you know what happened to you?" Early queried, noticing the look on the young man's face. "Yeah...I was downstairs...fire...went to help out...oh no! The nurse...did she get out? Is she okay?" Gage asked, suddenly feeling panicked that he might have left a victim injured in the fire. "Nurse? You mean Carla Watkins? Now, how would you possibly know she was down there?" Joe stated, somewhat dumbfounded. Johnny now noticed the sad look on the doctor's face. "What is it? Doc? She's okay, isn't she?" "Johnny...I'm sorry...I'm sorry to tell you the firefighters who extinguished the blaze found both you and Carla in the basement unconscious. Unfortunately, she succumbed to smoke inhalation and died a couple of hours ago." Johnny felt the blood draining from his face. "No! That's two people! That's two people who are dead!" he exclaimed, hoarsely.   Joe looked at the paramedic as though he had sprouted horns. "What are you talking about?" "Doc, I saw the arsonist! He was in the basement...in the room across from the lab! I know it was him! He attacked me, hit me with a club! And now Nurse Watkins is dead! She's the second one to die from a fire this whack job started! We lost a fireman, Shane MaCauley, this afternoon!" Dr. Early looked at Johnny and frowned. "Johnny, wait a second, there's someone here I think you should be talking to." With that he turned to leave and walked out of the room. Johnny was beside himself as Joe re-entered his room, with Officer Poncherello in tow, a few moments later. "Johnny! How ya feelin', man?" Ponch asked, walking over to his bed. "Ponch! Is Roy okay? Is Jon okay?" Gage nearly shouted, suddenly overwrought with worry. "Yeah, they're both fine! Jon is sound asleep in his room, and Roy left to go back to work a couple hours ago with his temporary partner. Look, Dr. Early was telling me you know what happened downstairs?" "I saw the arsonist, Ponch! He hit me a few times, then left me there in that room to die!" Johnny explained, relief that both his partner and Jon were all right. Ponch stared at his friend, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. "You saw the arsonist?" the dark patrolman asked, almost weakly. Johnny nodded. "Yeah, I'm certain of it! I went downstairs, in the room across from the lab. It was heavily engulfed in flames. The lab tech told me a nurse had been down there a few minutes before the explosion, so I thought I'd check it out, ya know? Once I entered that room, I knew I'd better get out and go for some help because I couldn't breathe. I thought I saw someone, but couldn't be sure. The next thing I know I feel this incredible jolt of pain to the back of my neck, which made me fall to the floor," Johnny replied grimly, re-living his experience. He touched the back of his neck and winced with pain. "You have a very nasty bruise there, Johnny, it's bound to be painful for a few days," Dr. Early told him. Ponch was impatient for more details. "What else happened, Johnny? Did you see the guy's face?" he asked, staring at his friend with concern. The paramedic shook his head, and winced. "Man, does my neck and head ache!" he exclaimed. "No, Ponch, I was lying on the floor, and I looked up, but all I saw was the club coming down to hit me again," Gage said, his voice quiet, looking straight ahead, straining to remember more. There was something else, but what in the world was it? For a moment, Johnny wracked his brain, but the headache made it difficult for him to think. He leaned his head back down on the pillow, utterly drained and discouraged. "Is that all you remember?" Ponch asked softly, feeling guilty. They should never have let Johnny go down to the basement alone, but at the time, the hospital was in chaos and he and Roy were attempting to evacuate the emergency department. He nearly died in that death trap, the patrolman thought, shuddering slightly. He nearly died! "Yeah, Ponch, sorry...there's one other thing...but I can't...I can't remember," Gage stammered, feeling completely exhausted all of a sudden. He fought to remain awake, but the sedatives the doctor had given him earlier were taking their effects on him. His eyes rolled up, his lips moved slightly. "The hands...," was all he muttered, and then he was oblivious to everything around him. Ponch heard him say something, but could not catch exactly what it was the paramedic had mumbled. He leaned down closer to Johnny, his ear next to the injured man's face, trying hard to hear more, but Gage was out like a light. Dr. Early touched the patrolman's jacket sleeve and the two left the room. As they walked towards the elevators and waited, Joe looked at the disgruntled young officer beside him. "Look, Officer Poncherello, he's had quite the trauma. He has a concussion, which could have easily been a skull fracture with one more blow. As well, it's a miracle the smoke inhalation didn't kill him. He's very, very lucky. Don't push him for information just yet. He needs some time for recovery." "I know, Dr. Early, but this arsonist has to be caught! He's responsible for injuring two of my best friends! I'm going to call the arson investigator who has been dealing with these particular arsons and let him know that he should maybe talk to Johnny. Doctor, did you hear what he said before he passed out?" The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Why don't you go home and get some sleep. I'm sure both Johnny and Officer Baker will be feeling much better in the morning. And I'll make certain I phone Roy so that he doesn't worry himself sick all night over his partner. I'll be sure to call you too, if either of our patients conditions change. Now, stop worrying, it's going to be all right." Ponch smiled weakly. Until this madman was caught and put behind bars, nothing was going to be all right. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* In the morning, when the relief for A-shift's crew finally arrived, Roy DeSoto couldn't get out of the station fast enough. He said a quick good-bye to everyone, then hurried out to the parking lot, getting in his truck and driving to Rampart General Hospital. He had not seen his partner since they had found him lying unconscious down in the basement. Forced to go back to work, partnered with Dwyer Fitzpatrick, he had been more than a little anxious about Johnny's condition. The phone call from Dr. Early, late in the evening, had barely set his mind at ease, and now he wanted nothing more than to see for himself that his best friend was okay. Arriving at the hospital, Roy parked his vehicle and headed inside. The auburn-haired medic could still distinguish the faint odor of smoke wafting throughout the hall, and felt a slight shiver escape down his spine as he recalled the events that had made Johnny a patient here the night before. DeSoto caught the elevator up to the sixth floor and warily made his way into Johnny's room. The injured young medic was awake, attempting to eat a bland breakfast of toast, cereal and coffee, and he smiled weakly up at him as Roy made his way over to the bed. Gage put the piece of toast he had been eating down, and pushed the breakfast tray out of the way. "Hospital food...pretty bad, I don't know how they can screw up toast, but it's the worst toast I've ever had," Johnny replied quietly. Roy glanced at him, trying hard not to assess, but his years of training as a medic, made him do otherwise. His eyes were drawn to the huge, dark blue and purple bruise filtering out next to the white hospital gown on the left side of Gage's neck, and he could imagine how much worse it was at the back. DeSoto also noticed how pale his friend was, and the scratchiness of Johnny's voice did not get by him either. "How...how are you feeling today? You were in pretty bad shape last night. We had to intubate you. You...you  had me worried half to death," Roy said, almost in as quiet a voice as his partner's. Johnny withdrew his eyes away from Roy's. "I'm okay," he stated, with obvious uncertainty, then angry at himself, knowing DeSoto would realize something was wrong. As he'd guessed, Roy picked up immediately all was not right with his partner. He sat down on the bed, peering into his younger partner's deep brown eyes. He didn't even have to say a word before Johnny started. "Okay, I guess, well, I guess you should know...I saw the arsonist last night, and Kyle Stafford, the arson investigator, was here earlier to talk to me about it. I'm certain it is the same person who set fire to that factory, injured Jon on the freeway, and was responsible for the death of Shane McCauley. Amongst other things," the dark-haired medic blurted out, hesitating to allow this information to be fully absorbed by Roy. DeSoto was stunned. He'd gone back to work and had not heard anything about Johnny's interaction with the most-wanted man in Los Angeles. For a moment, he stared at his partner, his thoughts causing him to be speechless. Johnny saw his reaction, and knew he should say more. "He was in the room across from the lab. I went in, because I thought that there may be a nurse in there. Just as I turned to leave, to get some help, he whacked me with a stick. And no, Ponch was in here last night too, fishing for details. I didn't get a look at the face. But I saw something else, Roy. I saw the hands," Johnny emphasized, informing his older partner, who had no idea right now why that would be something of significance. DeSoto was still in shock over learning that his best friend had been nearly killed by an arsonist who had terrorized the city three times the previous day. Roy shook his head, gathered his composure and stared at Johnny. "I...I can't believe this, Johnny. You were attacked by this...this madman! You...you actually...saw him?!" Roy stammered out. "No, I didn't see the face. I saw the hands, Roy, I saw the hands!" Johnny replied, rather excitedly in his scratchy voice. "The hands? The hands? Who cares about his hands?" "Well, for the few seconds I was on the floor, and I saw those hands, they became somewhat significant to me, Roy. I wracked my brain half the night, and this morning to figure out why those hands stood out to me. And I finally came up with the answer. Roy, those hands...they weren't the hands of a man! Roy, I'm sure of it, as sure as I am that you're sitting here next to me! Those hands belonged to a woman!" E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Ponch, Roy and arson investigator, Kyle Stafford, were outside John Gage's hospital room, speaking to Dr. Brackett. Joe Early's shift had ended in the morning, and Kel was curious to see how their young patient was doing. But as he made his way along the corridor, he met up with Roy, Stafford and Ponch and they were now bombarding him with questions. "Dr. Brackett, this is L.A. County's top arson investigator, Kyle Stafford. He has been dealing with the fires and was in to question Johnny earlier. Doc, can you tell us just how bad his head injury is?" Roy asked, as the four of them stood outside in the hall. "Mr. Stafford, nice to meet you," Kel started, shaking hands with the blond, forty-something investigator. "Well, Roy, it appears to be a mild concussion. He seems to be doing fine. I'm going to examine him and if all looks well, he'll be released to go home and rest." "Doc, a head injury of his kind...could it cause him to remember something, or believe something that wasn't real?" DeSoto questioned again, as Ponch and Kyle stood next to him, listening eagerly. Dr. Brackett couldn't figure out why his senior paramedic was asking him these questions. "Well, I guess it could, Roy, why do you ask? Is Johnny having some kind of hallucination?" "I'm not sure, Doc. We were talking, about his seeing the fugitive arsonist yesterday...and I believe him, I mean, I believe that he was attacked by this guy, because Cap said another one of the arsonist's trademark homemade bombs was discovered downstairs. And the room Johnny was found in, had been doused in gasoline and set fire to. But he said something that kind of disturbed Ponch and myself, and I was just wondering if it could be because of the kind of head injury he sustained." Kel moved his glance from the patrolman to the investigator to the paramedic before asking. "What did he say? He didn't report seeing or remembering something totally off the wall, did he?"   Ponch spoke up. "Not exactly, Doctor. But he's one hundred percent positive a man didn't attack him. He said he saw the hands of the arsonist, and he believes, no, he's certain, they were those of a woman. It just doesn't seem possible that a woman could be responsible for all these disasters." Dr. Brackett folded his arms across his chest. "You didn't tell him you did not believe him, did you?" "No, of course not, Doc. But it just doesn't seem possible...I mean what are the chances, I mean, maybe he's got a much worse head injury than you think," Roy replied. "Yes, Dr. Brackett, I know the fire down in your basement here was an arson and it fit the exact m.o. of the other fires. But I would like to know how serious Gage's head injury is before I take what he has reported to me seriously," Kyle spoke up. "Right now, I need all the evidence I can get, but if there's a possibility he could be mistaken, then I'll have to discredit it and forget what he's told us." "Well, gentlemen, c'mon inside, while I take a look at him. I'm actually glad you're here, because if he's okay, you can take him home," Brackett said and the four men walked into Johnny's room. Gage was awake, and his expression was dark, downcast. He stared straight ahead. His arms were crossed on his chest and when he noticed Roy, Kyle and Ponch follow the doctor into his room, he scowled. "I'm fine, Doc. I would like to go home, to be alone. I need to do some thinking, by myself," the young paramedic retorted, obviously disgruntled. "Well, Johnny, I'm going to examine you, and hopefully, we will be able to send you home in a little while. Are you upset about something?" Kel asked, as he began to check his patient's pulse rate and respirations. "I guess I am, Doc. These two, here, they don't believe me when I tell them something. And I guess Mr. Stafford doesn't believe what I told him either. I suppose you probably don't believe me that I'm well enough to go home today, do you, Doc," Johnny pouted. "Johnny, look we never said any such thing! Of course we believe you. If you say you were leveled by a woman, then we believe you!" Ponch replied, looking at Roy, frowning and then shrugging as he realized what he said just didn't come out the way he had meant it to. Gage now looked quite angry as Dr. Brackett began to take his blood pressure. He pumped up the cuff, then frowned as he read the numbers and let the air out. "Your BP is high for you, Johnny. 140 over 90. I'm going to take a look at your pupils." Brackett produced a pen light from out of his lab coat pocket and studied Gage's response to light. He didn't like what he saw. "Johnny, you're pupils are a bit sluggish, still. I'm afraid you'll have to stay a bit longer for observation." Now Johnny had had it. "Sure, nobody believes me! Fine, whatever! Don't let the door hit you on your way out," he replied in a husky voice, and turned on his side away from his friends, the arson investigator, and the doctor. The deep bruise on his neck became painfully visible to them as Dr. Brackett nodded towards the door. Outside, again in the hall, the four men took up a discussion on the injured paramedic. "Dr. Brackett, is he really not okay to go home? How much longer do you think he will have to stay?" Roy asked, first and foremost concerned about his best friend's condition. Brackett's lip twitched as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "Well, as you heard, his BP is borderline high, which is a sign of pain and possibly frustration that you don't believe him, and his pupils were slow to react to the light. I'm afraid I just wouldn't feel comfortable sending him home right now. He could collapse, or have vision problems, or a whole host of other symptoms you know are associated with head injury. I have to be certain his symptoms don't worsen, or develop into something of a more serious nature. Roy, I don't have to tell you how unpredictable head injuries can be." DeSoto nodded. "He's angry with us too, which is not at all like Johnny. But I gotta tell you, I just don't believe he was attacked by a woman, I just can't believe any man could be responsible for all this, let alone a woman." Ponch spoke up. "You know, it's not totally unheard of. There are lots of women who have been known to be involved in serious crimes, murder, assault..." Roy snapped his fingers and a look of shame suddenly crossed his face. "You're absolutely right, Ponch. Come to think of it, just yesterday Johnny and I responded to a call in which the wife took a knife and sliced a three-inch gash in her husband's arm. But still...in this situation...a woman? And Johnny is suffering from a head injury, he could easily be mistaken." "Well, Doctor, if you think there is any possibility at all that Johnny could be wrong about what he thinks he saw, then I'm going to have to discredit his experience. And, gentlemen that leaves me back to the drawing board with nearly no actual evidence. And that maniac is still out there," Kyle replied, an air of grimness in his voice. "Okay, let's just suppose for a second...let's just suppose that what he's saying is the truth. Doc, what kind of a woman, what kind of a person would be able to go about setting fires to buildings, building bombs, injuring and killing people?" Ponch asked, facing the doctor, his hands on his hips. Dr. Brackett's lip twitched again. "A very unstable, emotionally wrought and angry person." Roy and Ponch looked at one another. Kyle nodded knowingly. Roy turned his head and moved towards Johnny's room. "Look, I guess I should go in there and apologize." Kel grabbed his arm. "It'll have to wait until later, Roy. I would like him to get some rest for the next couple hours at least. I'll go back this afternoon and check him over again and see if there are any changes. Hopefully, after he gets some sleep, we'll see some improvement. But on another note, Officer Poncherello, I'm going down the hall to see your partner. He's making excellent progress, and I think he'll be able to go home tomorrow." A wide smile escaped from Ponch's lips. "That's terrific, Doctor! I haven't even really been to see him, since Johnny got in here. He doesn't even know about that. Roy, how 'bout you and I go see Jon?" Kyle Stafford turned to leave, shaking the hands of the other men. "Well, gentlemen, thank you. I guess I should get going now. I have a lot of work to do. In case you do come up with anything, or if Officer Baker or Johnny remembers anything else, give me a call down at police headquarters right away. Here's my card. As long as you think it's credible, we need all the help we can get." Roy nodded and as soon as Stafford had departed, he, Ponch, and Kel walked down the hall to Jon's room. The blond patrol officer was awake, flipping through the pages of a magazine. He glanced up and smiled when he saw them enter, then a frown immediately crossed over his face. Dr. Brackett went about taking his vital signs and smiled when he learned they were normal. Pulling his pen light from his coat pocket, the doctor examined Jon's pupillary response to the light. It, too, was excellent. "Well, Officer Baker, it looks like you have passed the tests with flying colors. How do you feel?" Kel asked. Jon frowned again. "Fine, I feel fine, can I go home now?" he asked. The fact that Johnny was not there with Ponch and Roy caused a knot to form in his stomach, and he noticed the rather serious look on DeSoto's face. But neither one of his friends gave him any explanation as to why Gage was missing. Jon felt uneasy. Brackett answered his question first though. "It's a bit soon. You suffered some incredible trauma yesterday. Although you're doing well, we have to be certain you're going to continue to improve. We don't want to release you and have you collapse at home, or worse...at work. If all looks well tomorrow, I'll let you go home then. Gentlemen, I have other rounds to do, so I'm going to head out now. Don't keep Officer Baker up all day, he needs his rest." The three friends watched as the doctor exited the room, then Jon wasted no time in getting to the point. "Where's Johnny?" he asked, before the door had even come to close behind Brackett. Ponch looked down at his partner, a sad expression on his face. "He...he was injured last night. He's in a room just down the hall." Immediate concern caused butterflies to erupt in Jon's stomach. "Injured? How bad? What happened?" The hesitation between Ponch and Roy in answering only made Baker feel worse. His face became pale as he envisioned something terrible. "No! How bad is he? Tell me!" "Jon, he was attacked by the arsonist last night. It appears to be the same person who set fire to that factory, dressed in black that we saw running out of it, stole the green pick-up, injured you and killed a firefighter who responded there. And yesterday, as well, there was a suspicious fire at a convenience store, to which Johnny and Roy responded, and since I was in the neighborhood, I went there to check it out. A witness there said she saw a person in black throw something, and then there was an explosion and several people were hurt. And...last night, there was another explosion and a fire downstairs, here at the hospital. Johnny and Roy and me, we were all here, so while Roy and I started to evacuate emergency, Johnny went downstairs, and he reported seeing the same person in the same black clothing. And this person, whoever he is, attacked Johnny with a club, and left him in that room to die, which was totally in flames. If Roy and Captain Stanley and the guys hadn't gotten there so quickly, he wouldn't have made it." Jon was absorbing the news with difficulty. "This madman attacked Johnny? How bad is he hurt?" It was Roy's turn to speak up. "He suffered some smoke inhalation from being in the room. And he sustained a few good whacks on the head and neck, resulting in a concussion. Brackett was going to let him go home today, but he still hasn't improved to a satisfactory level. He might be able to leave later today, if things get better." The blond patrolman shook his head. "We should go and see him. I want to see him." "No, not now. He's kind of mad at Ponch and I," Roy began. Jon was dumbfounded. "Mad? He's mad at you? What for?" Ponch hesitated. "Jon, he told us some details about his attacker we just didn't believe." "What kinds of details? Did he see the guy's face? Do we have some kind of description to go on?" Jon asked, his curiosity building, his training as a law enforcement officer taking over. "No, not exactly. The only thing he said, he is one hundred percent certain about...and we just find it hard to believe," Roy answered. "What? Will you guys stop with the short answers and just get to the point?" "We think maybe it's his head injury...so it's hard to really believe him," Roy began. "Yeah, he thinks the arsonist, the person who attacked him and caused all this mayhem...is a woman," Ponch ended, shrugging. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny cautiously opened the door, peering in amongst the smoke and flames. He walked in slowly, coughing, trying to see. But the smoke was thick and gray and he stumbled blindly around the room in desperation, searching for his victim. His chest ached and his eyes watered, but he continued. Suddenly, he felt his foot hit against something hard on the floor, and he tripped, falling with a thud. Momentarily stunned, he looked around at what it was that had made him fall and to his horror he saw the body of a woman, a nurse, lying motionless on the floor. For a second, he froze, then his training as a paramedic took over and he reached for the woman's wrist, feeling frantically for a pulse, all the while coughing violently, but he could find none. Bending over the victim, he tried to ascertain whether or not she was breathing and within seconds it became clear to him that she was dead. Realizing the fire was rapidly spreading and there was nothing he could do to help the nurse, Johnny gasped for air and rose to his feet. But a hard blow to the back of his neck caused him to fall back down to the floor and he cried out in pain, horrified that he had landed right on top of the dead nurse. Scrambling on all fours, he began to move quickly across the floor towards the door, but he felt the pain of another strike against him, this time on the back of his head. Johnny felt the room spin and glanced up, attempting to see whom it could possibly be attacking him. He saw the figure of a person dressed completely in black, standing high above him, a huge stick raised high in the air, poised and ready to strike again. As the hands moved downwards in one swift motion, Johnny realized this time he would be hit again, most likely resulting in a serious injury. There was no time to duck or move out of the way as the club came pounding down, sharply hitting him on the top of his skull. For a split second, before he blacked out, Johnny saw the face of his attacker, and his fear turned to disbelief. The face of the arsonist, the person responsible for killing two people, for setting fires to three different buildings, for injuring him and a CHP officer, was that of a woman... Crying out, Johnny woke with a start, feeling true fear and re-living his experience with the arsonist all over again. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and his breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Quickly, he gathered his composure staring at the door of his room as Dr. Brackett walked in just then, smiling. But the doctor's smile immediately turned into a frown as he saw how pale Johnny was. "Johnny, are you okay?" Kel asked, rushing to the side of the paramedic's bed. Not quite certain of exactly how he felt for the moment, Johnny was certain of one thing. Whether or not one single person believed him, he now felt more positive than he had before that his attacker was a woman. Blinking hard and vowing to himself that he would not mention what he knew in his heart to be real and true to anyone again, Johnny looked at Brackett and nodded. "Where's Roy and Ponch?" the dark-haired medic asked as the doctor reached for his wrist. Glancing up for only a second while he counted Johnny's heartbeat, Kel answered, "Roy went home to grab a couple hours sleep, and I think Ponch left too. But I believe they are both going to come back in a while. Hopefully, we'll be able to discharge you soon." "You know I guess I was kinda hard on them earlier. I can't say as I blame them for not believing me. I probably wouldn't believe them either. But I should apologize to them," Johnny said as Brackett counted his respirations. "I don't think that will be necessary. They're both happy you are okay. Would you please look up so I can check those eyes of yours?" Kel asked, pulling out the dreaded pen light again. Johnny did as he was asked, hoping above all hope that his pupils would pass the test. He was sick of lying in bed at the hospital, and was starting to form an idea in his head about the arsonist. Something that had recently happened had gotten in his mind, practically overwhelming him, and he wanted to see if there was anything to the memory he was having or whether his whole suspicion was way off base. Gage just wanted to get out of the hospital, so he could start to work on his idea and belief. Dr. Brackett said nothing as he pulled out the BP cuff. After taking Johnny's pressure, he smiled at the anxious young man. "Well, Johnny, you seem to be quite a bit better. Your eyes are reacting fairly well and your BP is back down to normal - 120 over 75. I think it's safe to let you out of here. Do you still have your headache?" Johnny shook his head no. "I feel great, doc, can I really leave now?" His statement was a lie, he did have a headache still and he felt far from great. But if Brackett was hinting he might be able to go home, that was all that mattered to Gage. Getting sprung from Rampart. Now. "Good. I'll just sign your discharge papers, and give Roy a call. He can come get you and take you home," Kel smiled and patted Johnny's arm. "Ah, how 'bout if you don't call Roy? I...I...um...hate to bother him while he's sleeping. I'll just take a cab over to the station and pick up my Rover, and go on home." Dr. Brackett headed for the door. "I really would prefer to have someone drive you home. You were on sedatives and other medication..." "Doc, really, I feel great! I promise, I promise you, I'll go straight home and lie down." Against his better judgment, the doctor could see he was not about to win this argument. He nodded as he opened the door. "Okay, hose jockey, get dressed, I'll have your discharge papers ready in a few minutes. But I'm holding you to that promise...you better go straight home and take it easy. When's your next shift?" "Sunday." "Good, that gives you two full days to re-coup. You should be fine for then." "You bet. Thanks, doc." The door was not yet closed when Johnny sprang out of the bed and hurried to the small closet. He found his clothing, his paramedic uniform, and dressed as quickly as his sore neck and head would allow. When he finished he sat down, waiting impatiently on the bed for the nurse to bring him his discharge papers. Johnny had something to do. Dixie McCall entered his room, carrying the papers. She smiled at the younger half of her favorite paramedic team. "Now, Kel's given me orders to tell you to make sure you go straight home and relax. And if you feel that something isn't right, you know all the symptoms, you're to high-tail it back here immediately. Got it?" the pretty nurse emphasized, looking straight into Gage's deep brown eyes, as she handed him the papers. Johnny's warm smile made her heart melt. "Ah, c'mon, Dix, you know I will." "Well, you've been known to not admit it when you're not feeling well and I just want to make certain you understand..." "I do, Dix, I do! Now, I'm gonna go call a cab..." "Not necessary. Squad 45 is waiting at the nurse's station for you, they will drop you off at Station 51 to get your car," Dixie informed him. Smiling again, Johnny practically flew out the door. He had no time to waste. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Roy DeSoto was just waking up. He glanced at the small alarm clock on the night table beside him and rose with a start. "Five o'clock! Five o'clock! Why'd you let me sleep so long?" the paramedic ranted out loud to no one in the empty room. Reaching over to pull the covers off, he jumped out of the bed, pulled on a pair of track pants and ran downstairs to where his wife, Joanne, was cooking dinner. "Joanne, it's so late! Why did you let me sleep so long?" Roy demanded again, this time to someone who could hear him and accepted a hot cup of coffee from his wife. "I have to go to the hospital to see how Johnny is..." "Well, don't you worry about that partner of yours. He was already discharged and is at home right now, resting on his sofa. He's fine, Roy," Joanne assured him. "He is? Why didn't he call me for a ride?" "He called a couple hours ago, to say just to let you sleep, he got a ride home, and not to worry." Roy wiped his hand over his face. Once he woke up a bit, he would call Johnny to see if there was anything he needed. But Johnny was not at home. He was out in his Land Rover, fighting his killer headache and driving up towards the Fire Department Headquarters. The paramedic remembered something from a few weeks ago, that he desperately wanted to speak to Chief McConikee about. He wasn't sure if the chief would buy into his idea, but he knew he needed to say something, and do a bit of research. His gut feeling about this was too strong. Reaching headquarters, Johnny stopped his vehicle and gingerly stepped out. Since it was already after five o'clock, he wasn't quite sure the chief would still be in his office. He walked inside and smiled at the receptionist. "Hi Melody. Is...is the chief in?" Gage asked, using his charm to his utmost advantage. As always, it worked. Melody smiled back, flirting with the handsome young paramedic. "No, Johnny, I'm afraid you missed him by about half an hour. Is there something I can help you with?" Melody batted her long eyelashes, and played absentmindedly with her long, blonde hair. Disappointed, Johnny thought of something else. "Ah, yeah, as a matter of fact, you can, Melody. I just need to...I just need to leave something in the chief's office. Is it all right if I go in there for a minute or two?" He gave her his most attractive smile and Melody was putty in his hands. "Well, Johnny, Chief McConikee is kinda anal about his office. You won't touch anything, will you?" "No, not at all, I'm just gonna write him out a note and leave it on his desk. I won't be long." "Okay, please hurry, Johnny, I'm leaving at 5:30." Nodding, Johnny cautiously walked back to the chief's private office and opened the door. Looking around, closing the door behind him in an effort to block out any noise he might make, he caught sight of three filing cabinets and walked over to them. Slowly, Gage opened up the first cabinet which was marked "A - H" and moved hurriedly through the folders inside. When he found the one he had been interested in locating, he glanced around the office just to make sure he was alone, and opened it up, reading the information inside. His heart began to beat wildly as he put that file back inside the cabinet and took the one directly behind it out. As he began to read the small amount of information inside, he realized with chagrin that this person had been hired as a rookie for the fire department a month ago, and fired only two weeks later. His mind was spinning with the deep belief that he was on to something. Hearing a sudden noise, Johnny panicked and quickly put the file back in its slot, closed the door of the cabinet just in the nick of time, and raced towards Chief McConikee's desk. He looked up at the approaching footsteps and saw that it was Melody walking towards him. "Johnny, are you almost finished in here? I need to lock everything up for the night," she replied, smiling sweetly. "Ah, you know, I just couldn't think of what to write, so I think I'll come back and see the chief another time," Gage lied, grinning. "And thanks a lot, Melody. Oh, by the way, it is kind of a surprise, would you mind not telling anybody I was here?" The receptionist looked a little confused, but nodded her head. "Sure, Johnny. For you, anything." Still smiling, Gage left headquarters, driving away in his Land Rover. He was positive he was on to something, but he needed more proof before he said anything to anybody. And proof was what he was going to get. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* It was going on nine-thirty at night, and Roy DeSoto was hanging up the phone, feeling very dismayed. He had been trying to get a hold of Johnny for three hours now and was starting to think that perhaps something had happened to him. He sat in his living room, his son, Chris, beside him on the sofa and his daughter, Jennifer, asleep on his lap. The television was on, but Roy had no idea what show they were watching as concern for his partner devoured him. Joanne came into the room, noticed her sleeping child and the distant look on her husband's face. She picked Jennifer up in her arms and carried the six-year-old upstairs to her room. "Chris, it's bedtime for you, too," she called from the top of the stairs. Chris looked at his father, who was staring off out the window, shrugged, and followed her up. Roy was imagining all sorts of things that might have happened to Johnny. He was thinking about calling Ponch and driving out to the ranch to make sure Gage was all right. He was also feeling guilty for not being awake when Johnny had been released from Rampart. He was jolted in his thoughts when he heard his wife's voice, and felt her hand on his shoulder. "He's fine, Roy. I'll bet he probably fell asleep watching T.V., " Joanne began. "Yeah, you're probably right. But maybe, what if...maybe he passed out or something, I mean what if he's lying on the floor, unconscious. He did have quite the bang on the head. I think I should drive out to the ranch just to make sure..." "You'll do no such thing, Roy DeSoto," Joanne chastised him. "Johnny is a grown man and you can't go chasing after him every time he doesn't answer his phone. Suppose you drive out there and there's nothing the matter..." "Yeah, and suppose there is something...I wouldn't be able to forgive myself, Joanne, I'd...," Roy was interrupted by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Instantly, he picked it up. "Hello?" DeSoto answered, his voice somewhat anxious. "Hey, Roy? This is Johnny. Is something the matter?" The older man smiled slightly at his wife, nodding to her, and breathed in a deep sigh of relief. "Ah, no Johnny, just glad to hear your voice. I've been calling you for hours, I was worried and just about going to drive out to make sure you're all right." "I'm okay, Roy. I...ah, just woke up actually. I didn't realize how tired I was. Sorry I missed your calls, I must've really been in a deep sleep, " Johnny lied on the other end. The truth was, he had just walked in the door five minutes before.  Knowing Roy the way he did, Johnny assumed correctly that he would have tried to contact him, to no avail, and did not want DeSoto to think he wasn't following Brackett's orders to rest and take it easy. Gage didn't like lying to his best friend, but he also didn't want to tell him he had been driving around Los Angeles the past four hours, attempting to satisfy his curiosity regarding the fugitive arsonist. Met with some disappointment, and utterly exhausted, Johnny had driven home. He hadn't even realized how late it was. To his surprise however, Roy bought his lie. "I'm glad, Johnny. You need your rest. I want you to be okay for our shift on Sunday. How you feeling, anyway? Do you need anything?" Gage stifled a yawn. "Well, I guess I'm fine. And no, I don't need a thing. Look, I'm going to go make something to eat. I'm starved. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" Roy said good-bye and hung the phone up. As soon as his conversation with Roy ended, Johnny bolted upstairs to his bathroom and swallowed a handful of aspirin. His head was throbbing. He took a hot shower, relaxing his aching, bruised neck under the water. Afterwards, he dressed in pajama pants and went downstairs to his kitchen, made a sandwich and poured a tall glass of milk. His gray tabby cat wandered into the room and snuggled against his legs as he ate. Johnny knew he would have to feed him and after quickly eating, he opened a can of cat food and gave it to the grateful animal. He knew Ponch had been out to feed the horses, so he didn't worry about them. Instead, he walked into his den and pulled out a map of Los Angeles. Another idea was working itself into his head. On the map, he took a pencil and circled the approximate addresses of where the arsons had taken place. Coincidentally, they were all within a short range of each other. Johnny wondered if that was something of significance.  Perhaps it meant that the arsonist lived in that area. Perhaps it meant nothing at all. During his drive in the city, Johnny had gone to the residence of the person he was seeking, the one whose file he had found and read in Chief McConikee's office that afternoon. It was a small apartment building on 7th Street. In the lobby he had noticed that the person to whom he was looking for, did not have their name mentioned on the list of tenants. Gage had summoned the landlord over the intercom, and had been informed that person had moved out over a week ago. They had left no forwarding address. Scratching his head, Gage realized he was becoming rather exhausted. The lines on the map blurred and he knew he needed sleep. With the thought in his mind that he was getting closer to knowing exactly who the arsonist was, he went upstairs to his bedroom, and within seconds, he was asleep. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The squad and engine from Station 36 pulled up to the apartment building on 7th Street. Immediately, the captain, Frank Watson, grabbed his handy talkie, surveying the scene before him. His crew was the first to arrive at the fire that was well engulfed in the small three floor structure. The flames were bright, almost blindingly so, against the darkness of the three a.m. night sky. He looked up, anxiously noticing people standing on their balconies, frightened and yelling for help. "Tony, Wes, we need a two and a half on the west side of the structure. Matt, Pete, get your gear on and do what you can to evacuate. Stations 127 and 51 are on their way. If it gets too heated, get out on the double, got it?" Captain Watson instructed his paramedic team. Nodding, they donned their SCBA's and gingerly walked into the apartment building. Wes and Tony had already pulled the reel hose from the fire truck and were running up to the side of the building to extinguish the flames that were threatening to become dangerously out of control. Hearing sirens approaching, Watson looked up to see Station 51 coming to a stop on the street that was now overloaded with emergency vehicles. Two police cruisers arrived at the scene and the officers ran over to Captain Watson. Descending from the engine, Station 51's B-shift captain, Ted Hookrader, trotted over to join them. "Ted, have your boys grab ladders and get to those people on the balconies on the third floor. Get your medics to go inside and help with the evacuation. Mine are already in there," Frank instructed. "You got it. Baker, Samson, go inside, do a sweep and bring out as many people as you can. 36's medics are inside, back them up if need be. Donaldson, Richter, get the two and a half charged. Grab the ladders and get those people down first though!" Hookrader ordered. The men sprang into action, the paramedics, Charlie Baker and Paul Samson donning their air tanks and walking into the apartment building. Sam Donaldson and Kevin Richter grabbed the ladder off the engine and ran with it to the structure, speaking to the people who were trapped on their balconies fearing for their lives. Inside, the two paramedic teams were running along the hallways, knocking on doors, making sure everyone was already out, and helping those who were not. Due to the size of the building, they had been forced to split up and each one took a different floor. Matt and Pete from Station 36 were in the basement and first floor, respectively, while Charlie did rounds on the second floor, with Paul running door to door on the third. Luckily, most of the tenants had been able to escape. Matt, in the basement, finished his search quickly, satisfied that no people had gone down to the basement in an attempt to hide from the flames. He joined his partner on the first floor, and found him helping a man overcome by coughing out of his apartment. "Look, he's the last one! Let's get him outta here and see if 51 needs our help," Pete replied. Nodding, Matt, grabbed the other arm of the man just as he collapsed from smoke inhalation. As the two medics bent down to scoop him up, they heard a loud crackling above them and saw that part of the ceiling was caving in. "C'mon, let's get the hell outta here!" Pete yelled. Up on the second floor, Charlie was knocking on the closed door of an apartment. No answer.  He pounded harder and still received no acknowledgment. Just as he was about to kick the door in, it opened a small crack. He peered inside, barely seeing the pale, wrinkled face of an elderly woman. "Yes?" she asked, oblivious to what was happening in her apartment building. "Ma'am, I'm from the Fire Department! The whole place is on fire, you have to get out, now!" Charlie cried out. "On fire?" The woman sounded confused. "It's three o'clock in the morning, young man. I was sound asleep, and I think you should go to bed, too." Charlie shook his head in amazement and glanced down the hall, noticing the smoke and flames were getting worse. He stuck his foot inside the door and pushed with all his might, successfully breaking in.  The woman cried out in astonishment and ran away into another room. The paramedic followed her, entering her bedroom, and was stunned to see her pull a small pistol from out of her dresser drawer. Without hesitation, she pointed the weapon at him, her wrinkled up hands shaking somewhat. "You better get the hell out of my home, or I'll shoot!" she threatened. Charlie Baker raised his hands in the air. "Ma'am, please, you don't understand! You have to get out now, or we'll both die in the fire!" "There is no fire. You're making it up. I know all about you...you con artists! Now go away, or I'll blow your head off!" "Ma'am, just follow me, I'll show you," Baker pleaded and stepped forward. But the old woman was not about to allow him to come any closer. She squeezed her finger, and the gun went off, her piercing blue eyes closing tightly at the sound of it. Charlie saw what was happening and dove out of the way, but was a second too late. The bullet grazed the top of his left arm and feeling a deep burning sensation, the medic fell to the floor a mere two feet from the woman. Quickly though, knowing he had no choice, Charlie stood up, pushing the elderly, confused tenant to the floor. She dropped the gun, which went off a second time, hitting the ceiling. Shocked, she sat on the floor and began to cry as the paramedic scooped her up and ran with her to safety outside. Paul Samson was rounding a corner in the corridor, heading towards his last door on the third floor. The flames were the worst here and the smoke was thick and black. Suddenly, he felt the unexpected force of an explosion and catapulted against the side of the wall. As he picked himself up off the floor he saw that part of it was disintegrating around him only ten feet away. Groggy, he shook his head and realized that he could not make it to the last door without falling through the floor. Picking up his handy talkie that he had dropped, Paul was just about to speak into it when he turned and saw what appeared to be a figure rush out in the hall ahead of him. Moving as quickly as was possible, Samson followed the scurrying person, noting he was dressed completely in black.  As he rounded the corridor and reached the staircase, the paramedic realized he had lost sight of the person, who, in all probability required his help to get out of the fire-gutted building. Confused, wondering just where that person might have gone, Paul turned to look around him. But he didn't get much of a chance as he was struck with a heavy object square in the face. The blow broke his air mask and knocked him to the ground. Before he had a chance to move again, Samson felt more intense blows in his ribcage, back and face. He blacked out, unable to move or breathe, the blood from his broken nose gushing down his mouth and throat. Outside, all the paramedics, with the exception of Paul Samson, had gotten safely out of the building. The firemen were still working on extinguishing the flames, and were confused as to why the third floor had suffered an explosion and in some places was currently inaccessible due to the great amount of damage sustained. For the time being, rescue workers were unable to get to the third floor, where the Captains knew the paramedic had been working. Worried, Captain Hookrader grabbed his handy talkie, attempting to contact Paul, but he was met with dead silence. One of the police officers on the scene came forward. "It looks pretty bad up there. I hope your man gets out okay," he replied. The fire captain nodded solemnly and looked around. There were nearly a dozen people being treated by five paramedics, and he was thankful that none were seriously injured. As far as they knew, all the tenants had been rescued from the apartment building. Charlie Baker had been only slightly wounded from the bullet, which had grazed his arm, and after having it bandaged up, he was fine to go back to work, helping to treat the victims of the fire. Frank Watson had called in a second alarm assignment when the explosion on the third floor had rocked the building and saw that even though the men were starting to win the war against this incredible fire, he was very concerned that Station 51's medic was not answering the frantic calls Captain Hookrader was sending over the handy talkie. Frank noticed Hookrader once again calling Paul Samson over the radio, but again, to no avail. It would be well over another hour before the paramedic would be found. Back at his ranch, John Gage had no idea that he had been sleeping for nearly sixteen hours. The ringing of his telephone at two o'clock in the afternoon, pulled him out of his deep slumber. Groggy, his headache still not gone, he reached over and clumsily picked up the receiver. "Hello?" he answered, weakly, his voice scratchy, his head full of cobwebs. "Johnny? Johnny, are you okay?" he heard a worried sounding Roy DeSoto ask on the other end. Hesitating, rubbing his eyes and feeling the intense pain of where he'd been slugged on the back of the neck, Johnny answered, attempting to sit up in his bed and fully wake up. "Yeah, Roy? I was sleeping. Is everything all right?" Opening his eyes, he glanced at his alarm clock on the night table beside him and did a double take when he realized how late it was and how long he had been asleep. "Sleeping? Do you know...," Roy began. Johnny cut him off. "Yeah, I know it's after two o'clock. So what? I guess I was tired...," "Johnny...have you heard any of the news yet today?" DeSoto asked him in a small voice. Gage picked up the deep concern in his friend's voice immediately, and worried, his adrenaline pumping, found he was instantly alert. "What is it? What's the matter?" he demanded, his heart now pounding in a semi-panic. "Um, Johnny, something terrible has happened. There was a fire last night, an apartment building on 7th Street, and Station 51 responded. They found evidence that it was another arson job, the same m.o. as the others." Hesitation on DeSoto's part only made Gage's heart pound even harder.  The dark-haired medic was just about to ask what had happened when Roy's sorrow-filled voice told him. Johnny realized he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up and felt a small shiver run down his spine. "Ah, Johnny,...Paul Samson...Paul Samson was killed last night." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Ponch, Jon and Johnny sat in Roy DeSoto's living room, somberly drinking coffee. The news of another firefighter losing his life in a blaze set by the allusive arsonist was upsetting, but the death of one of their own, a paramedic who had worked at Station 51 and for whom both Roy and Johnny had known for years was devastating. Ponch and Jon, who had been released from Rampart that afternoon, politely sat by and waited for the medics to suppress their grief. Paul Samson had been married with three young children. His wife and Joanne DeSoto were good friends. Joanne, upon hearing the news, had rushed over to be with Delia Samson in her tragic moments. Roy had arranged for his sister-in-law to pick Chris and Jennifer up after school and keep them for the weekend. Now, the four friends were trying to make sense of why someone was doing this, who it could possibly be and why hadn't they been caught yet. Johnny had sat back through most of the discussion, quietly, not even entertaining the thoughts and ideas posed by the others. He knew what he knew. The fire at the ex-employee's former home had completely cinched it for him. He knew exactly who the arsonist was. Gage had been to that apartment building Thursday night, approximately six hours before the blaze had mysteriously started. "Jon, Ponch, there has to be some clue as to who is setting these fires," Roy was saying. "Well, unfortunately, there isn't anything to go on. We know the person makes his own homemade bombs. We know he's angry. We know he is probably in the area watching, probably getting a high from seeing what he's caused. He is some kind of psychopath, and we have no evidence, no fingerprints, no description, nothing. He apparently won't stop until he is caught, and that could be quite some time," Jon stated, rather sadly. "But there has to be a reason he's doing it. There has to be some way we can find him, figure out why he's doing this...," Roy replied. Johnny, who had been holding the mug of coffee up to his lips decided he'd had enough. Even if they laughed at him, he knew he had to say something. He reached over and set the mug on the coffee table. "First of all, it isn't a 'he', it is a 'she' like I tried to tell you before," Gage started, interrupting his partner and eliciting a sudden stare from three sets of discriminating eyes. "Johnny, I know you believe...," Roy said, chauvinistically still unable to comprehend a woman had anything to do with all this. "Roy, will you listen to me?" Johnny practically cried out. "I know who it is." Ponch and Jon continued to stare at the dark-haired medic. "You know who it is who has set all these fires?" Ponch asked, incredulously. "C'mon, Johnny, how could you possibly know who it is?" Roy questioned, disbelief tugging at his voice. Gage had realized he would be met with this type of attitude. "Look, I thought about it a lot, you know. And I know it was a chick who attacked me during that fire at Rampart. I know the difference between a guy's hands and a girl's hands, and this was a girl. A Caucasian girl. I remember I saw a silver band on her little finger. So, while I was in the hospital, I had time to think, and it just hit me. I remembered something that occurred at the Fire Department a couple of months ago." Johnny had now captured Jon and Ponch's attention. Even Roy stayed quiet, listening intently. He would judge for himself whether his partner was simply crazy, or whether he had some vital information to give. "Go on, Johnny. We're all ears," Jon encouraged. "Well, Roy, do you remember a couple of months ago, a firefighter who was getting ready to retire in a few months, his name was Will Diffendorf? Worked out of Station 136. He was killed in the line of duty? Badly burned, they couldn't save him. It was really tragic..." Roy was confused. "Sure, Johnny, but what does he have to do with the arsons?" Gage continued. "Well, I recalled he had a daughter, she had been too distraught to make it to his funeral, you know? I...ah...I found out that she got hired by the Los Angeles Fire Department a month ago." "She did? Then that would make her one of only two other women in the whole entire County who work for us," Roy pointed out, still not getting it. "Yeah, so what, Johnny? That might be somewhat unusual, but I'm afraid we're still not following you," Ponch replied. "You see the thing is, she only lasted two weeks and they fired her," Johnny advised, sounding somewhat exasperated. It was perfectly clear to him and he couldn't believe his friends weren't catching on. "So, she was fired, so what? Being a firefighter, walking into those death traps is hard enough work for a guy, let alone a chick," Ponch retorted, frowning at his inability to understand what the dark-haired paramedic was getting at. Johnny threw his hands up in the air. How could they not be getting this? "Don't you see? Her dad was killed, and she was fired!" he repeated, waving his arms for emphasis. "Oh! So, she doesn't work for the Fire Department any longer and you think she's doing this as a revenge type thing?" Jon asked, the light bulb suddenly going off in his head. Gage nodded, and clapped his hands. But Roy still didn't understand. "Johnny, how did you find all this out?" the auburn-haired paramedic asked his partner. Johnny hesitated. He didn't want to tell them he had been in Chief McConikee's office snooping around, but knew they probably wouldn't believe him otherwise. And Gage also knew that unless he spoke up about what he'd discovered, other people would be in jeopardy. "Um, I went to the chief's office and pulled the files," Johnny admitted. "You what?" Roy roared. "Johnny, don't you know those files are private, confidential? You could be disciplined for doing that!" Gage shrugged. If it in any way, shape or form helped find the person responsible for the destruction, devastation and deaths, he didn't really care. "I knew that, Roy, but my feeling about this was so strong, is so strong, I can't help myself. But think about this. Will died at Rampart, and then the