"Line-Ups" By: Mary Cull Glancing over his shoulder every now and then, waiting in the long line-up, rather impatiently, Paramedic John Gage bounced slightly off the balls of his feet. He was becoming quite annoyed, having stood practically in the same spot for ten minutes now, realizing he could get a call at any moment and that his partner, Roy DeSoto, was probably not appreciating the fact that he was taking so long. He watched as another person at the head of the line walked quickly up to one of the available tellers, and shook his head. Hopefully, it would be just another few minutes of waiting, as there were now only four people ahead of him. Johnny moved forward slowly, waiting, watching. He considered leaving the bank because the line-up was so busy, and moving, seemingly, at a snail's pace, but he'd already been there this long and decided a few more minutes wouldn't make much of a difference now. Besides, he really needed the cash as he had none on him, and did not wish to return back after having stood and waited, for what seemed like hours to the anxious young man. Another ten minutes passed and the Los Angeles County paramedic finally reached the head of the line. He glanced quickly at the three working tellers, who were busy helping their clients, waiting for one of them to become free.  In his mind, he tried to decide which of the three would become available to help him first, and centered his attention on the pretty, blonde middle teller, hoping that it would be her. He felt a slight bit of disappointment when he saw a man turn and walk away from the counter, leaving the older, end teller now free. However, Johnny hastily walked over to her as she looked up from her post and called out, "Next?" Just as he reached the window and opened his mouth to speak, Johnny was interrupted by the intruding, all too familiar voice of his partner. "Johnny! We got a call, c'mon!" Roy called out, entering the bank in search of his friend, and turning on his heels to leave just as quickly. Without uttering a sound, Gage shrugged his shoulders at the teller, frowned, and doing an about-face, hurriedly jogged away, following Roy out of the small bank. As they got into the squad and pulled away, Johnny groaned and slammed his fist down lightly on the dashboard. "I was this close!" the dark-haired paramedic exclaimed. Becoming serious, as he donned his fireman's helmet, he asked DeSoto, "What've we got?" "Car accident, corner of Westhaven and Brook." "That's just a couple blocks away," Gage muttered. Under his breath he remarked, "If I'd've known it was so close, I would've just got my money!" Roy never heard his comment as he pulled the squad quickly over to the side of the street. Both men jumped out and went immediately to the side panels of the squad to retrieve their equipment, as Engine 51 arrived at the scene and pulled up behind them on Westhaven. Two cars were involved in the accident. Roy went to the first one, a gray Buick sedan, while Johnny ran over to the next car, a brown station wagon with wood paneling along the sides. It appeared that the sedan might have sped through a red light at the intersection, and pummeled into the side of the on-coming station wagon, pushing the station wagon up onto the sidewalk on Brook Avenue and straight into a telephone booth. The force of the impact had jolted the gray car at the intersection, and it had come to a stop right under the traffic light at Westhaven.  Skidding could be seen along the asphalt of the intersection and the two police officers on the scene were busy directing traffic around the accident. Johnny stepped carefully over the broken glass of the telephone booth, and setting the equipment he was carrying down on the sidewalk, rushed over to the station wagon's badly damaged driver's side door. "Hey, can you hear me?" the paramedic called, as he struggled to open the door. In the background, he could make out the voice of his captain, trying to disperse the bystanders who had gathered around the scene to watch, but he was focused on his task and did not turn to observe the gathering crowd. Gage pulled on the demolished door with all his strength several times, but it would not open. The strong odor of gasoline came up to assault Johnny's senses, and as he ran over to the passenger side, he saw the flammable substance leaking out of the vehicle onto the sidewalk. Grabbing the handle, Johnny jerked and pulled until it finally opened, grimacing, as he noticed neither victim was wearing a seatbelt. Picking up a large piece of glass that was directly beside the vehicle and a potential danger, he safely discarded it, then crawled in as much as possible and looked around, doing a quick assessment of the situation, as Firefighter Chet Kelly appeared at his side. "What've ya got, Johnny?" the stocky fireman asked, sniffing. "Gas leak?" "Yeah, better tell Cap to get Marco to hose it down. Roy's busy at the other car.  I think I'm gonna need you to help me get these people out," Gage replied, his expression serious, while he conducted his primary survey, instinctively checking the first victim's ability to breathe. Chet nodded and disappeared while Johnny continued focusing his attention on the unconscious woman next to him. He felt her wrist, relieved that there was a pulse, although he frowned when he realized it was rapid and weak and noticed her breathing was somewhat shallow. As he checked her pupils with his penlight, and discovered they were unequal, Gage suspected she had a serious head injury. The mechanism of injury suggested she may also have neck or spinal injuries and Johnny yelled over to Chet, asking him to bring over a cervical collar and a backboard. With practiced hands, the young paramedic next reached down to check the victim's legs for fractures. He grimaced slightly as he felt the bone protruding out from her lower left leg and realized that the caved-in dashboard was pinning her down. Johnny knew he would need the K12 as well as the Jaws of Life to free her and the male driver next to her. Gage poked his head out from the vehicle and yelled over to Captain Hank Stanley for help. Within seconds, Engineer Mike Stoker arrived with both tools. Firefighter Marco Lopez was washing the street down with the hose and Johnny watched momentarily, spotting Roy still at the other car. Chet ran back over to the station wagon and stood beside Gage, handing the paramedic the C-collar and laying the backboard on the ground, so that it would be ready for use when necessary. Johnny attached the collar gently around the woman's neck, careful to not move its position, then backed out of the vehicle so that Station 51's engineer could work to extricate the casualties. Mike worked the Jaws into the door at the driver's side and while he did that, Johnny set up the biophone for communications with Rampart General Hospital. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?" the medic spoke into the device. He recognized the answering voice as that belonging to Rampart's head nurse, Dixie McCall. "51, we read you loud and clear, go ahead." "Rampart, we have a two car collision, we're working on getting the victims out of the vehicles, please stand by," Johnny replied, watching as Mike finally opened the driver's door, the damaged metal crunching loudly in the process. "Ten-four, 51, standing by," Johnny heard Dixie acknowledge as he dropped the biophone receiver and rushed over to help the driver of the station wagon, whose head was slumped over the steering wheel. As the dark-haired paramedic checked the unmoving man for vital signs, Mike moved around the car, grabbing the K12 in order to lift the crushed dashboard off the injured woman passenger's legs. Johnny felt the male driver's throat, checked the pupillary response with his penlight and saw that the man was clearly not breathing. Gage sighed dejectedly, and gently put the man's head back down on the steering wheel, realizing it was too late for him. No amount of medical aid could help him now. He was dead. Johnny jumped out, waiting for Stoker to loosen the dashboard enough to enable them to get the woman out. Looking around towards the gray Buick, Johnny ran over to see if Roy needed his help with his victims. Gage saw his partner sitting on the curbside attempting to treat an obviously highly intoxicated and argumentative man. A police officer was also there, reading the impaired fellow his rights, but the man was flailing his arms about, oblivious to the disaster he had most definitely caused. "Do you understand your rights, sir?" the officer asked the fortysomething man, who looked up at him, settled down somewhat and sighed heavily. "I, yeah...I most certainly do, occifer. This ain't my first time, ya know. By the way, occifer, occifer, and occifer," he slurred, having obvious difficulty trying to say the word "officer",  and staring confusedly at Roy, Johnny and the policeman, "how in the hell did I get out here on the road?" Almost instantaneously, all three public servants looked at each other and shook their heads. "Johnny, I think he's okay, he won't let me touch him, but we'll take him into Rampart for a check, just to be sure. I had a heck of a time just trying to get him to come out of the car," Roy replied, rising to his feet, as the cop pulled the suspect up, handcuffed him and took him into custody. "What've you got?" Johnny snorted disgustedly. Drunk drivers were his personal pet peeve. He'd often wished there was some way he could come up with to keep them off the street, having been involved with numerous vehicle accidents and injuries and fatalities throughout his career that were the direct cause of impaired drivers. Shaking his head, trying to not let his anger surface, the young medic answered. "Ah, the driver's dead. I'm just waiting for Stoker to get the dashboard off the woman passenger's legs. She has a compound fracture of the left leg and a head injury, my guess would be probable internal injuries, but I haven't been able to really examine her yet. I've notified Rampart and they're standing by." As the paramedics made their way over to the station wagon, they could hear the drunken driver of the Buick still arguing with the police officer. Johnny glanced over towards him, scowling for a moment, but his anger was diffused when the dashboard was finally lifted off his victim's legs. He and Roy went in, and carefully lifted her out of the vehicle and onto the waiting backboard. She was still unconscious. Roy got on the biophone, as Johnny began to get vitals and further examine her, relaying the information to Roy. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, do you read?" DeSoto spoke into the receiver. "Go ahead 51," Dr. Kel Brackett's voice answered. "Rampart, we are at the scene of a two car collision with three victims. Victim number one is D.O.A., victim number two is male and apparently intoxicated, but with no obvious signs of injury. Ah, Rampart, he won't let us examine him, but we're gonna bring him in for a check, just to be sure. Victim number three is female, approximate age 40. She has a compound fracture of the left fibula, a deep cut on her forehead. Pupils are unequal and slow to respond to light, she is unconscious and has been for the duration of the accident, around 20 to 30 minutes. She also has rigidity in her lower right quadrant and her skin is pale, cold and clammy. We have her on six liters of oxygen. Stand by for vitals, Rampart." Johnny informed Roy the woman's vitals and the older medic immediately got back on the biophone. "Rampart, pulse is rapid and weak at 150, respirations are 18 and shallow and BP is 100 over 60." "51, start IV with ringer's lactate, apply anti-shock trousers and immobilize the leg. Patch her in and send me an EKG strip," Brackett ordered. Johnny expertly started the IV and, covering the patient with a blanket, opened the patient's blouse, and attached the EKG electrons. Roy went over and splinted the woman's injured limb, while Chet helped Johnny get the anti-shock trousers on the victim.  "Rampart, sending strip, this'll be lead two," Roy advised, getting back on the biophone. "51, victim is in synus tachacardia, continue monitoring, advise vitals every three minutes and transport immediately," Kel replied. Within a few minutes the ambulance arrived on the scene. As they loaded up the woman on the stretcher for transport, Johnny watched the drunken man of the gray sedan walk clumsily over to the ambulance. He was singing, rather terribly, at the top of his voice, annoying everyone in the vicinity. The police officer jumped inside and had to help him in, as he was far too intoxicated to find his way inside by himself. Johnny shook his head, again fighting the urge to voice his angry opinion and helped the attendants lift the injured woman's gurney into the ambulance. Johnny sighed and jumped inside the vehicle while Roy closed the doors, effectively blocking out the impaired man's wailing, off-key rendition of American Pie to the outside world.  I think this is going to be one long ride, the young paramedic thought disdainfully. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny had no idea what he was in for during that ride to Rampart. As they moved in and out of traffic and Johnny attempted to get the woman's vitals as requested by Dr. Brackett, the drunken man suddenly became aggressive. Although the cop had handcuffed him and was accompanying him in the ambulance, the man, without warning, began to squirm and kick, at one point, knocking Johnny over onto the floor. He was concerned about his patient as her vitals began to drop to a dangerous level, and Rampart ordered him to start another IV, D5W, open an esophageal airway, and to also administer one amp epinephrine, inter cardiac. As he was attempting to retrieve the epinephrine, the man in handcuffs kicked out ferociously and Gage had had enough. "Scott!" the medic yelled at the police officer. "Please! Do something with this loser! She's in serious shock, and her heart rate is dropping!" Johnny demanded angrily, picking himself up off the floor. He was thankful that he had at least been able to start the IV and get the esophageal airway before he had been pushed off his seat, but the medication in the glass vial had unfortunately been smashed in his fall, and he had to pull another from the drug box. Worrying that the delay in giving the woman the epinephrine may be instrumental to her survival, Johnny moved with lightning speed, but his frustration was clearly evident. The cop grabbed the drunk by the collar and pushed him roughly down in his seat. "Move again and your life will get a whole lot more complicated, buddy," Scott threatened in a low voice. The man looked about to argue, thought better of it and stayed in his seat. "Ah, you're no fun at all," he slurred, closing his reddened eyes. Johnny re-administered the medication and glanced down, realizing there was a shard of glass from the broken ampule pierced in the palm of his left hand. Blood was dripping down his arm and onto the floor of the ambulance and he felt the sting of pain, but soon forgot it as his patient suddenly went into V fib. Dr. Brackett's voice could be heard coming through the biophone. "51, patient is in V-fib! Defibrillate, 400 watts seconds!" Yanking out the piece of glass, Gage immediately reached for the defibrillator, applying gel on one paddle and rubbing it into the other. He was glad they were driving fairly steadily now and did not feel the need to pull over, but it was never an easy task starting IV's or defibrillating in a moving vehicle. Instantly, he shocked her once with no response, and hastily grabbed the biophone, getting direction from Dr. Brackett.  "Rampart, Squad 51, patient has flat-lined," the paramedic replied breathlessly into the receiver, as Scott looked at him helplessly, wishing he could do something to help. The intoxicated man, had slumped down in his seat, and was snoring softly, apparently not caring that the object of his poor judgment was going downhill fast. "51, administer two milligrams isopateranol, and continue with CPR. How far are you from the hospital?" "Ten-four, Rampart, we're approximately one minute away," Johnny replied, and gave the patient the medication ordered by the doctor. As the ambulance backed into the parking area, he was still determinedly performing CPR, not stopping until they were wheeled into Exam Room 2. Dr. Brackett went to defibrillate her again, but glanced up at Johnny questioningly as he saw the blood on the woman's chest and realized it was coming from the paramedic. Roy was waiting at the nurse's station with Dixie as Johnny and Dr. Brackett walked out of the room, both with somber looks on their faces. Kel made a beeline for his office, obviously too distracted to stop and chat. "She...she?..." Roy began, but already knew as he watched his partner shake his head sadly. DeSoto also felt a pang of sorrow and as he looked down noticed the bandage on Johnny's left hand. "Hey, what happened to your hand?" Roy asked curiously, with a hint of concern in his voice. "The, ah, drunk got a tad ornery during the drive," Gage explained, his disgust of the man evident. "Oh, you okay, Johnny?" Dixie asked, before Roy had a chance to. Johnny glanced sadly towards the exam room where they had left the unfortunate woman. "Yeah, I'll live," he replied, in a low voice, shaking his head. "Wish I could say the same for that poor lady. Such a waste...," he began, remembering how much he despised drunk drivers. Roy could read his mind and knew he'd better get him to snap out of it before he started off on another one of his rants, but it was too late. "Ya know, that man killed two innocent people. And he's barely got a scratch on him. It never ceases to amaze me how they rarely get hurt...," Gage began, leaning over the nurse's counter. He rubbed his temple, then glanced at Dixie. "Oh, by the way, Dix, he smashed a vial of epinephrine when he kicked me off my seat, we're gonna need another one to replace it." "You got it," Dixie replied and went into the cabinet to get the medication. She handed it to the dark-haired paramedic, who, scowling, put it into the drug box. "Roy, do you know what's really sad about all this? Do you?" Johnny asked. Roy looked over to Dixie with a 'help me' look, but she smiled and turned away, pretending to be suddenly busy. She was also too aware of Gage's seemingly endless rants and knew the best thing to do was to not get involved. However, DeSoto was not as fortunate.  He looked at his partner and shrugged. "The really sad thing, Roy, is that that guy has no idea what he's even done. No idea that two people, who were happy and healthy one minute, are now both dead, because he made the decision to get in his car and drive after he'd been drinking. Man, I hope they lock him up and throw away the key. I hope that someday..." "C'mon, partner, let's get going," Roy broke in, grabbing Johnny's arm. He looked back and waved to Dixie, as they walked out of the hospital. Gage, his frustration growing, never missed a beat and kept on talking. "...and another thing, Roy, our justice system is a joke with these people, a joke! How many times do you hear about drunk drivers causing fatal accidents and getting away with a slap on the wrist...I tell you, Roy, something has got to be done!" DeSoto said nothing as they entered the squad and drove back to the station. Experience had taught him that the best thing he could do was to just sit back and let Johnny get it out of his system. The younger man was still ranting as Roy pulled the squad into the bay at Station 51. "...why can't they get someone else to drive them home, or call a taxi or something? How can they not realize they are impaired and can't control a motor vehicle? Don't you think that after a person has a couple of drinks, that common sense would prevail?" Roy just smiled as they entered the kitchen and waved to the rest of the crew who were already sitting down and eating lunch. "Did I just hear you say something about common sense, Gage?" Chet asked, smirking as he picked up his chicken salad sandwich. "Now, how could you possibly know anything about common sense when you don't possess any yourself?" the mustached fireman joked, eliciting a couple of laughs from the other men. Johnny just made a face as he sat down at the table and reached for one of the sandwiches Mike had brought out on a platter. Picking one up and putting it down on a plate in front of him, he looked at Kelly, as Roy brought over two glasses of milk and sat down beside him. "Chet?" the dark-haired medic spoke, his irritation obvious. "Yeah, Johnny?" the stocky firefighter asked, grinning. "Shut up, Chet," Gage replied in his usual tone of exasperated frustration. "Gage, your tough comeback and wittiness have me just shakin' in my boots," Kelly laughed. The dark-haired medic ignored Chet's comment, took a bite of his sandwich and looked over to Mike Stoker. "Tuna fish?" he asked the quiet engineer. Mike shook his head. "Chicken salad," he replied. Johnny looked at him incredulously. He seemed to have a problem distinguishing Mike's chicken salad sandwiches from his tuna fish ones. He bit off another piece and looked at Roy, seated next to him at the table. "Chicken? Why does it taste like tuna? Does it taste like tuna to you?" the youngest member of Station 51 asked his partner, who merely shrugged. Roy could tell it was chicken, but didn't feel like getting into a discussion about it as he ate. Chet, however, always the joker who lived to antagonize Johnny, had to get his two cents in. "Gage, what is it with you? Is your miniature brain capacity too small to be able to tell the difference between chicken salad and tuna fish? Or, were you just born without the sense of taste? Ah...yeah, that's it! That would definitely explain some of the dogs you've dated in the past. Lack of taste!" Just as Johnny took another bite of his sandwich, and began to think of an insult for Chet, the klaxon sounded. He dropped his food on the plate, and making another face as he chewed, headed out for the squad, Roy following close behind. "Squad 51, difficult breathing. 2715 Hawthorne, 2-7-1-5 Hawthorne, cross street Pierce, time out 12:37." The two paramedics left the station, heading towards their call, lights on and sirens blaring. As they reached the destination, they were relieved to find it was simply a woman who had hyperventilated. They calmed her down, and got her breathing normally by putting a paper bag over her mouth. Assuring them she was then okay, the two men left to return to the station. They were both hungry and it was then that Johnny remembered it was his turn to cook dinner that evening. He asked Roy to stop at the grocery store along the way so that he could pick up the things he would need. Upon entering the supermarket, Johnny suddenly, and without warning, stopped short, causing Roy to walk right into him. "Ah, the next time you decide to come to a full stop like that, do you suppose you could make some kind of sound, or send me a signal or something?" Roy muttered. Gage seemed to not hear him. His dark brown eyes were open wide and he had an almost panicked look on his face. "The bank! Roy, I never got my money! Dammit! And all I have on me is about thirty-five cents!" "What? Here, I can loan you some cash until you get back to the bank," Roy offered and handed his grateful partner twenty dollars from his wallet. Hurriedly, the two paramedics made their way around the store. Johnny had decided he would make his usual hamburgers and a salad for the crew and as they went to cash out was once again dismayed by the long line-ups at the cash registers. "Will you look at this?" Gage complained to Roy, staring around him at everyone waiting for their turn. "What is it with people today? Today the last day on the planet to get food and money or what?" DeSoto shrugged his shoulders, rolled his blue eyes, and almost hoped that they would get called out, as his partner started up on yet another rant. "You know, I've never seen line-ups like this in my whole life, Roy. I'm sick of line-ups! I hate 'em! Everywhere you go, you have to line up! I wonder just how much of our lives are wasted standing in line-ups? This morning, before work, I stopped to get gas for my Rover and it took me like twenty minutes. It must've cost me five dollars in gas just waiting in the line-up for my turn to fill up. Then, after that, I had to stop at the electric company to pay my bill and the same thing. A huge line-up there as well! Good thing I left my house extra early this morning or I'd've been late for work today," Johnny commented, stepping ahead as the person who was at the cash paid for her groceries and left and the line moved up. "Ah, you were late for work today," Roy reminded the dark-haired paramedic, who immediately frowned and then smiled. "Oh yeah, that's right, I was, wasn't I? Oh, by the way, thanks again for covering for me with Cap, partner." "Don't mention it, Junior," Roy replied. Finally, it was their turn at the cash register and they had no sooner paid for the groceries when the HT sounded. They picked up their pace and jogged out to the squad, listening to the dispatcher. "Squad 51, Engine 36, man attacked by dog. 7326 Oceanside Crescent, 7-3-2-6 Oceanside Crescent. Cross street Sea Breeze, time out 13:25." At the scene, Gage and DeSoto pulled equipment from the squad and walked quickly up the walkway to the house, ringing the doorbell, waiting. No one answered. Roy rang again. "Fire Department!" he called out. "Roy, look!" Johnny exclaimed and pointed to a window a few feet away from the door. Inside, a large German Shepherd was viciously biting on the arm of a young, blond man who was lying on his back on the floor of the living room, flailing and kicking, trying hard to get the enraged animal off him. In an instant, Roy turned the door handle. It was open. The two paramedics glanced at each other, frowning, but cautiously entered the home. The young man was crying out for help. Johnny looked around the room quickly, trying to find something with which to fend off the aggravated dog. The medics entrance into the house momentarily startled the animal and it backed away from the injured and bleeding victim to stare at Gage, teeth barred and growling menacingly. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The two paramedics dared to not move as the large dog continued to eye Johnny. It was drooling and making loud snarling noises. The injured man on the floor looked gratefully at his rescuers, hoping that they could put an end to the dog's vicious attack. "Whoa, boy," Johnny replied as soothingly as he could, feeling the band of sweat that was beginning to form on his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Roy move very slowly around the room towards the sofa, as Engine 36's sirens could be heard arriving at the scene. DeSoto was just painstakingly bending down to reach for a cushion off the sofa when the firemen from 36 ran up to the already opened front door and entered the living room, unaware of what was happening. The sudden commotion further aggravated the dog who, without warning, barked viciously and made a lunge towards Johnny. The force of the large, angry animal sent Gage sprawling to the floor. He felt hordes of pain as its teeth bit deeply into his left arm and cried out, trying to block it away from attacking him elsewhere. Roy was there in a second, as were two of Engine 36's firefighters. DeSoto pushed the pillow hard into the face of the dog as the three of them wrestled the yelping, growling animal into a nearby closet and quickly shut the door. It was still barking and scratching, putting up a huge fuss to get out as Roy reached his partner's side. "I'm fine," Johnny insisted as DeSoto grabbed his arm, and helped him into a sitting position. "Check him out." Roy diverted his attention to their victim. "How are you doing? Where are you injured?" The young man looked at the older medic, pain etched on his face. "My right arm and leg are the worst, and here, under my cheek. I'm sorry, I don't know what got into him." "It's okay, you're gonna be okay. What's your name?" DeSoto asked, taking a look at the small, bleeding wound on the side of the victim's face. "Todd. Todd Emerson. I'm so glad you came in when you did, or he'd have made mincemeat outta me." Roy pulled out the compresses and sterile dressings and began to clean up Todd's wounds. He was bleeding from several large gashes in his arms and leg, where he had been attacked by the crazed dog. DeSoto glanced over to Johnny, now sitting on the sofa, his arm being checked out by Engine 36's firefighter, Tim O'Dell. "Todd, has this dog ever bit anyone before?" Roy asked as he continued to clean up the wounds of the young, twentysomething man. He applied dressings and bandages, and put Todd's right arm in a sling. "No, sir. He's always been so good natured. He just snapped and all hell let loose. It was a miracle I made it over to the phone to call you for help. I just don't know what happened!" "Todd, you have some deep wounds here that will probably require stitches. Hey, Johnny, how's that arm of yours?" DeSoto asked, looking over to his partner who was applying pressure to the jagged three inch gash in his left forearm. The Captain of Station 36, Will McIntyre, was standing beside him, watching, as one of his men ran through the door and informed them that the ambulance had arrived. "It doesn't look too bad, DeSoto," Captain McIntyre replied and waved the ambulance attendants into the room. "Look, I don't think you need us any longer. We're gonna take off." "No, thanks, Cap," the fair-haired medic replied, watching as the crew of Station 36 left the premises. He held a hand up to the attendants, asking them to wait a moment, picked up the biophone and informed Rampart of the dog-bite victim. Dr. Early answered his call and asked them to transport as soon as possible. Gage grabbed a sterile dressing and put it over his injury. "Hmm, I hope this doesn't require stitches," he muttered, then looked worriedly over to Roy, developing a new thought. Reading his partner's mind, DeSoto looked back at their victim. "Ah, Todd, has this dog been vaccinated for rabies?" Concern was evident in his voice as the older medic glanced over towards his partner, and saw the look of fear erupting on his face. "Ah, let me think. I believe so," Todd answered uncertainly, wincing with pain as the ambulance attendants, given the go-ahead by a nod from DeSoto, lifted him up onto the stretcher. "Todd, we gotta know for sure. It's very important," Roy advised, demandingly. The young man hesitated, thinking for a moment. "Yeah, actually, yes he was. Last March. I remember for sure now. I took him to Dr. Mason, the vet on Willson, a few blocks over." "Good, c'mon, Johnny, you go in the ambulance with him, I'll drive the squad over to Rampart," Roy replied, feeling quite relieved. "Ah, Todd, what do you want me to do with your dog?" the fair-haired medic asked, noting that the animal had stopped snarling and barking. Todd shrugged. "Want to open the closet up and see if he's settled down any?" "Do you think that's a good idea?" Johnny asked, his forearm still throbbing from the bite. "Well, I'll open it just a crack and if he's gonna attack again, I'll slam it closed and call animal control," Roy said, walking over to the closet. Very slowly and carefully he opened the door and peered in at the animal, who was laying down, it's head over it's front legs. The German Shepherd looked up at him, whimpered slightly, and stood up, wagging his tail. DeSoto opened the door further, put his hand inside and felt a cold, wet tongue licking him. "I think he's okay, now," the older medic stated and allowed the animal to come out of the closet. Johnny, still sitting  on the sofa, made a face, and pulled his knees up as the large dog trotted past him and went immediately to his master. Todd patted his pet, who obediently sat down beside the stretcher next to him. "Hey, boy, what got into you?" Todd asked, astonished at the completely changed demeanor of the dog. "Look, would you mind tying him outside on his leash? There's food and water out there, and I can take care of him when I get back home. I'll call my wife at work when I get to the hospital and let her know what happened, she can come and pick me up." "You might want to take him to the vet, maybe he's sick or something," Gage stated, rising from the couch. Todd nodded his agreement. The dog barked then, but it was not a bark of anger. However, Johnny jumped apprehensively at the sound, and Roy went over, taking the animal outside, as his partner and the victim left the house and got into the ambulance. At the hospital, Gage sat patiently as Dr. Early irrigated the bite on his forearm, applied antibiotic ointment, a clean dressing, and bandaged him up. "It doesn't look like you need any stitches, Johnny. It's a little deeper than a flesh wound, but the bleeding's stopped. I think you'll be fine in a couple of days," Dr. Early advised. Johnny lifted his left arm up, showing the two bandages he now sported, the one on his hand from being cut by the broken glass vial, and the newest one on his forearm from the dog bite. He felt a tad bit ridiculous. Roy, standing beside him in Exam Room 4, saw the expression on his younger partner's face and smiled. "Let's hope nothing else happens to you today, Johnny, or you're gonna end up looking like one of the mummies from those horror flicks Chet watches," DeSoto teased as Gage jumped down from the exam table. Dr. Early patted him on the back and laughed. "Ha, ha, very funny," Gage replied dryly, and headed for the door. "Roy's right, Johnny. Besides, I have too many patients to look after as it is, so no more business, got it?" Dr. Early smiled. The two medics left the exam room and walked out to the nurse's station. Dixie was sitting there, filling out paperwork and smiled at them. They stopped for a moment to chat. "Hey, Johnny, how's that arm? I was worried that maybe they might have to amputate," she joked, eyeing the two white bandages. The accident prone paramedic shook his head and rolled his eyes. "What, are you two taking lessons from Kelly? Can't a guy get cut by a glass vial and bit by a dog, all on the same arm, on the same day, without everybody taking cracks at him?" "Yeah, but you just make it so easy," Roy replied, grinning. "Man, if the two of you are finding it 'so easy' as you eloquently put it, to make fun of me, I can't wait to see what the Phantom has in store for me back at the station," Johnny grimaced, anticipating what it could possibly be that Chet would come up with to antagonize him. Remembering their victim, he asked, "Hey, Dix, how's Todd doing?" The pretty head nurse looked at him. "Well, he's got two bad bites, as you know, on his arm and leg. Dr. Morton is stitching him up now. He should be released in a while. From the sound of things, I guess it could've been a lot worse, all joking aside. That dog could have done some major damage to both Todd and you. You were really lucky. You should be pretty thankful rabies wasn't involved, Johnny." Gage looked down, soberly, knowing full well the treatment for rabies, or even suspected rabies, was a series of incredibly painful injections in the stomach. He felt a shiver go down his spine. "Believe me, Dix, I am. I am." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny shifted uncomfortably as he once again stood in the line-up at his bank. It was nearing closing time now, on a Friday, and he knew that if he didn't make it to the teller this time that he would not be able to get any money until Monday. They had tried to get to the bank earlier, only to be toned out to a structure fire after having left Rampart and were now just able to get there. Johnny had groaned when he'd entered the bank and saw again how many people were waiting in line, but he was determined this time to get his money. Frustrated, he sighed, and waited, taking turns glancing both at the front door to see if Roy was going to come bouncing through to advise him they had a call, and to look at the lone teller who was now left serving the last few remaining clients. After several minutes, Gage saw that he was now second in the line and noticed that there were hardly any customers left in the bank, due to it getting ready to close for the day. He breathed a sigh of relief, and glanced down at his watch, as the woman in front of him finally walked over to the same, gray-haired, older teller he had been to earlier in the day. For a second, he wondered what happened to the pretty girl who had been serving people then, but realized it didn't matter now. He was next. Johnny frowned and made a face of annoyance when he suddenly felt a strong push against his back. Turning around, he looked at the older, semi-balding man who was behind him, the only other customer, besides himself, in the line-up now. Gage studied the man momentarily, realizing there was something definitely odd about him. He appeared to be extremely nervous, sweating profusely and fidgeting about, continuously glancing back over his shoulders. "Hey, are you okay?" the paramedic asked him. Looking towards the front door, he briefly noticed two men entering the bank. They were carrying, what appeared to be large bags, across their forearms. The balding, sweating man behind him turned to face Johnny abruptly. "Yeah, I am now," was all he said. Gage smiled unsurely at the man he estimated to be around fifty years of age, and turned to face the counter. He watched as the customer ahead of him left the teller and walked out of the bank. As Johnny started towards the cash area, he did not notice one of the men lock the front door behind the exiting customer. Just as Johnny was about to speak to the teller, he was interrupted by the sudden shrill voice of the man who had been standing behind him in the line-up. "All right, nobody move! This is a hold-up!" he shouted menacingly, producing a sawed-off shotgun from underneath his long coat. The two other men who had just entered followed suit, running towards the small bank's counter area. At the balding man's words, Gage threw his head up in despair and slapped the counter top. But he barely had time to breathe as the three robbers instantly surrounded the teller area, guns drawn, demanding money, screaming threats. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Outside the bank, Roy waited in the squad across the street, rather impatiently, for his partner to return. He took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch. Johnny had been in the bank for over twenty minutes now. What is he thinking, taking so long again? DeSoto pondered to himself, glad that they hadn't been called out on a run, but irritated just the same. Impatience soon turned to extreme annoyance as Roy glanced over towards the bank five minutes later. Still no Johnny. He slapped the steering wheel and dejectedly decided to go inside to get him. He's probably trying to pick up one of the tellers and forgot all about me, the older medic thought, more than slightly angry. Exiting the squad and walking stealthily across the street to the bank, Roy was surprised to find that the door would not open. What the hell? There's still a few minutes left before closing. Peering into the bank from the large window next to the door, Roy felt his legs go numb and his heart skip a beat as he noticed three armed men waving shotguns and grabbing people, pushing them roughly to the floor. Moving quickly away from the window, out of sight, fear clutched at his stomach as he observed one of the gunmen shove Johnny forcibly, and raise his gun, pointing it menacingly at the dark-haired paramedic's head. With a speed he did not know he possessed, Roy turned and raced back across the street to the squad, where he immediately pulled the mike off the dashboard, his heart pounding distressingly. "L.A., this is Squad 51. Request police at 3532 Sherman, State National Bank. There is a robbery in progress, three men with guns and they have hostages, one of them being my partner, John Gage." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Inside the small, one-floor bank, Johnny tried to not show his fear as the gunmen forced both the loans officer and the teller to the floor. One of the men had gone to the back, locked and bolted the rear entrance, and brought out the bank manager, along with two male, and three female employees. He pushed them down on the floor, pointing his rifle to their heads. One of the women immediately started to sob in terror and received a slap across her face from the angry robber. "Shut the hell up, before I shut you up permanently!" he hissed. She cowered away, and put her hand to her face in an effort to muffle the existing sobs. The gunman looked at her disgustedly, then focused his attention on the paramedic, who was still standing beside the cash counter, his arms raised, wondering to himself why these three men were not wearing masks to cover their identities. Grinning, the blond, twentysomething thief shoved Johnny hard, then pointed his weapon straight at the paramedic's head. "Hey, Shack! We got us a fireman here as a hostage! That sorta makes him special, don't it?" The man named Shack turned to look at Johnny, curiously eyeing him up and down, as the older, semi-balding third man, who had been behind Gage in the line-up moments before, ran behind the counter carrying the  burlap bags his accomplices had entered the bank with, and started cleaning out the tellers drawers. "Look, man, why don't you take your money and leave. Just don't hurt anyone, man," Johnny replied huskily, struggling to keep his voice even, as the robber continued to keep his shotgun aimed at his head. "Hey, Pete! We got us a real, genuine hero! You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Shack laughed evilly, a scary effect on the hostages. His looks were frighteningly ugly, with his long, knotted mousy brown hair, crooked nose and acne-scarred face. He appeared to be about thirty-five years of age and was the tallest one of the three, exceedingly thin, but alarmingly dangerous just the same. Shack edged over closer to the paramedic and hovered at least four inches above Johnny's six foot two frame. Gage managed to keep his fear inside as he stared up into the man's expressionless hazel eyes and then looked down the barrel of the weapon his captor was pointing less than a foot away from him. Pete, a much younger man, with stringy, dirty blond hair, and a strong, muscular build, pushed his gun deep into Johnny's rib cage, the pain causing the paramedic to bend and groan slightly. He straightened himself immediately and looked into Pete's watery blue, unsympathetic eyes, knowing full well what they were planning. He was a firefighter, a public servant, second only to a cop. What a great hostage he'd make, should they require one. "Okay, I know what you want. Take me, if you must, but please let these people go," Gage replied, fear gripping at his being. He jumped slightly as Pete reached behind him and pulled the med pack containing scissors, amongst other things, off his belt. "You got anything else that could be used as a weapon, fireboy?" the young, blond man asked, his gun still aimed at the medic's chest. "What? No, I don't have any weapons, what do I look like, a cop?" Johnny asked, somewhat sarcastically, shaking his head incredulously at Pete's stupidity. Ignoring his answer, Pete reached out and did a quick pat-down search of the paramedic, snorting when he pulled the small pocketknife Johnny always carried on him from out of one of his pockets. He held it up in the air, dangling it, almost like he were holding the trophy of some major victory and teasing the loser with it. "And what do ya call this? A toy? I oughta shoot ya right now for lyin' to us!" Shack threatened, and with lightning speed, turned suddenly, pointed his weapon at Johnny and pulled back the trigger. Gage's eyes closed involuntarily, his breathing stopped for the moment, and he felt an instant sweat develop along his spine. Pete came unexpectedly to Johnny's defense. He pushed the other man's gun away from the medic. "Not now, dummy, we need him!" the young captor replied. "Oh yeah, you're right, Pete, I just about forgot." Glancing down, the ugly man noticed the two bandages on Johnny's left arm and cruelly smashed the forearm with the butt of his gun. Johnny groaned in pain and doubled over, his vision momentarily etched with a thousand colors. Several seconds later, as the throbbing sensation in his arm subsided to a somewhat more tolerable level, Gage then straightened himself up, watching dejectedly as the white bandage began to seep red. To finish him off, Shack gave the medic a hard push, and he fell awkwardly, banging his injured arm against a filing cabinet and landing with a thud on the hard floor. "There, that'll learn ya for bein' a smart ass! Next time, I won't be quite as nice. Next time, there won't be enough bandages in the county to save you! C'mon, Sonny, would you hurry it up with that cash! I wanna get outta here before any cops come!" Shack yelled over, turning his glance towards his accomplice, who was still preoccupied, filling up the bags with money. At that, the bank manager raised himself off the floor slightly, leaning up against the wall. "You know, punk, the cops will come, and you and your buddies will all go to prison!" the gray-haired, slightly pudgy older man stated, matter-of-factly. Pete angered at the manager's words, and moving away from Johnny, leapt over to the man where he proceeded to kick him in the side with all his might. The cracking of ribs could be heard as the old man writhed and groaned, on the floor, in agony. Johnny grimaced and made a move towards him, but Pete spun around and had his pistol pointed at the paramedic's head again, in an instant. "Don't be a hero, fireman! Not here, not now! And shut the hell up, old man, before you get yourself shot! Uh oh, too late!" Turning again, the blue-eyed, blond robber grinned wickedly, drew a .357 magnum out from his coat pocket and aimed it directly at the manager's head. Pete tucked the sawed-off shotgun under his left arm, and with his right hand held the pistol and curled his finger around the trigger. Johnny could see the fear in the man's eyes, begging for mercy as the sound of the gun going off thundered sickenly in his ears. "NO!" Johnny screamed and watched helplessly as blood and gray matter splattered the wall and floor of the bank, and the manager slumped down on his face. Some of the women began to cry and all of the employees turned away, terrified by the unnecessary act of violence that had just occurred. Johnny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his body shuddered involuntarily. Again, he made a move, but he was held back by Pete, who appeared calmly satisfied by what he had just done. "Now, let that be a little warning to you all. We don't appreciate snide comments, and we won't hesitate to put a bullet in any of you," the young, blond man threatened. "Look, I'm a paramedic, let me see if I can do anything!" Johnny pleaded in vain. He knew there was nothing he could do to help the bank manager, but he thought his offer of medical aid might help the other employees with their fear. However, his request went ignored as suddenly the three robbers attention was diverted to the sound of approaching sirens. A lot of sirens, followed by screeching tires. "The cops! Damn it, Pete! Why'd ya have to go and kill the guy for? Now, we got a murder rap floating on our heads!" the older man, Sonny, cried, walking hastily towards them with three burlap bags completely full of money. He had a look on his tanned, weathered face that was a mixture of panic and anger. "Now, Sonny, you be glad I did it! Because now that the cops are here, they ain't gonna try anything 'cause they know we mean business! And they 'specially ain't gonna stand for us to kill a fireman!" Pete reasoned, watching as Sonny's expression suddenly changed. "Okay, okay, you're right! But, how'd they know we're robbin' this bank?" Sonny questioned. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Outside, on the street, Roy DeSoto was met by three police cars which quickly jolted to a stop in front of him. The police officers assumed positions behind their cruisers, guns drawn, staring at the bank. One of the officers ran up to Roy, who was standing by the squad, worry etched on his face. The older paramedic was glad to see that the cop who approached him was Vince Howard, whom both he and Johnny had known for years. "Vince! Ya gotta do something! Johnny's in there and I heard a gun shot a couple of minutes ago!" Roy began in a panicked voice, his heart pounding wildly. "Easy, Roy. That's what we're here for. Tell me what you know," Vince asked and Roy went into detail about what little he'd seen from the bank's window. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny was kneeling on the floor, beside the bank manager, checking him for vitals, finally allowed to do so by the robbers, but it was obvious the man was gone. However, he knew he needed to try for the sake of the terrified employees around him. After he could find no life signs, he slowly rose to his feet, an angry, disgusted look on his face. "He's dead," the young paramedic finalized, although unnecessarily, causing two of the women to begin to sob all over again. But now they knew for certain. These men surrounding them were murderers. Cold-blooded killers. Johnny, however, right now, felt more anger than fear. He sat on the floor of the bank, his knees up, studying the three bandits, wishing there was something he could do to put an end to their rampage. The death of the manager left the medic feeling cold and helpless inside. Such a waste that could have been prevented totally he thought grimly to himself. The third preventable death I've seen today. "C'mon, let's stash the body somewhere," Shack replied, getting angry himself. "And would you broads stop with the whinin' and cryin', please? I've about had it and my trigger finger is starting to twitch." That said, the tall, thin man with the cratered face walked to one of the tellers and grabbed her roughly by the arm, jerking her up off the floor in one smooth motion. She screamed in pain and fright. Shack smiled, put the gun he was holding to her head and wrapped his free arm around her. She struggled uselessly, causing Shack to laugh even louder. It was now a game to him and he bent down, trying to kiss the terrified woman on the neck. Watching the robber's movements, afraid something worse might happen, Johnny suddenly lunged forward, too quickly to make a rational thought in his hasteful, albeit, goodhearted attempt to help the teller. But his efforts cost him dearly as Pete saw him go after Shack. The young, blond burglar darted over towards them, quickly hitting Johnny hard on the back of the head using the handle of his gun. The paramedic cringed at the intense pain of the blow, felt himself falling, and then everything went black. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* "You in the bank! This is the Police! You're completely surrounded! There is no way out! Come out now with your hands in the air!" Vince Howard shouted into the megaphone, hoping that the thieves would obey his demand, but somehow feeling that this was not going to be easy. He waited for a moment, for some kind of reaction from the three suspects. But he was met with silence, absolutely no acknowledgment. The police officer felt a weakness in the pit of his stomach and raised the bull horn again. He'd been correct, this wasn't going to be easy. "Listen! You have just one minute to step out of the bank with your hands up, or we're coming in after you!" "Well, if you do, then you'll be responsible for the deaths of nine innocent people! Oh, make that eight people. Because we already killed the bank manager!" Shack spoke menacingly, his tone one of pure evilness. He had opened the door of the bank and walked gingerly outside with a very frightened brunette teller. His left arm draped tightly around her throat, while his right held a gun to her head. She was sobbing softly, pleading with her eyes to the cops to save her. But they knew that they just couldn't take the chance. "Look, let her go! Lay down your weapon and surrender now and it'll go that much easier for you later!" "You don't get it! No way in hell we're gonna surrender! We're giving you fifteen minutes to back off and let us get the hell outta here, or we're gonna start killing the hostages and throwing out the bodies, one by one!" E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny slowly opened his eyes as he started to come to, blinking hard, trying to get his sight to focus. He awkwardly attempted to raise himself up on one elbow, but unsteady, fell back down, momentarily forgetting what had happened and wondering what he was doing lying on the cold floor. His head throbbed and as his strength returned, he sat up fully, dizzy at first, bringing his hand up to where he felt the pain at the back of his head. As he gently touched the spot, he felt a warm wetness on his hand and glanced down at it, relieved that his vision had finally cleared. He winced and grimaced as he saw the blood, but the sight of it brought the memory of his predicament flooding back in an instant. Bank. Robbers. Manager dead. Being held hostage. Got hit. Musta blacked out. Looking around, Johnny saw he was the only hostage there now, in the front of the bank with all three burglars, and suddenly a frenzied panic clutched at him. He scrambled to stand up, dizzy, stumbling, his head full of cobwebs. Just as he got to his feet and leaned over against the counter, willing the vertigo and nausea overwhelming him to go away, he felt an unmistakable object of cold steel pressed against his right temple. He gasped quietly, momentarily forgetting how to breathe, and with an urgency tried to steady himself enough so as not to alarm the man holding the gun against him. Gage finally found his voice. "Where...where are all the other people?" he demanded, trying to ignore the pounding in his head, trying not to get himself shot. Without moving, he cast his glance sideways and saw that it was Shack who was standing next to him. "Calm down, pretty boy, we stuck them in the vault while you were catching up on your sleep." The ugly man laughed that evil laugh of his and grabbed the paramedic's arm, walking him over to the waiting area of the bank. Johnny shuddered and sat down on a chair, wondering for a second what was going to happen next, but thankful that, for the moment, the others were out of harms way. Johnny rubbed his temple and wished he could take about a bottle full of aspirin for his aching head. "How long...how long was I out for?" the dark-haired paramedic asked his captor, trying to get an idea how seriously injured he might be. "How the hell should I know? What do I look like? A friggin' timepiece? We been a little preoccupied with the cops and everythin', ya know," Shack stated cruelly. Johnny snorted and came up with a comeback that he knew, if repeated, would get him killed right there on the spot. He kept it to himself and glanced around. Sonny was leaning against the wall of the building at the front door, staring at the activity going on outside through the large window. Pete was gathering up the three large sacks that had been filled with cash. He looked over towards Gage and smiled. Johnny's heart sank. They had planned something and he knew he was about to become involved in it. "Hey, Shack? You ready?" Pete called to his tall accomplice as he and Sonny started for the front door. Shack nodded and grabbed Johnny viciously by the arm. He shoved him forward, forcing the medic towards the bank's entrance, his gun pointed directly at Gage's head. "You first, fireman," he hissed, and chuckled menacingly. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Roy stood outside the State National Bank near the police officers, safely behind the cruisers. He was fearful and the worry he felt for his partner, as well as the other hostages, caused a painful knot to erupt in his stomach. The standing around and waiting was driving him over the edge. Johnny had been holed up in the bank for over ninety minutes and DeSoto was frustrated by the seemingly lack of response by the police. He made his way over to Vince Howard, who was leaning behind his cruiser, eyeing the bank, and contemplating the next move. "Vince! Why aren't you doing anything? Johnny could be dying in there, why isn't anybody doing anything?" Roy demanded, trepidation and anxiety evident in his voice. Sergeant Howard looked at the paramedic with compassion, noticing the concerned look on his face, the dread in his troubled blue eyes. He had known Johnny and Roy a long time and knew that they had a special bond, a rare closeness not shared by very many people. The two of them seemed more like brothers than partners, and Vince could fully understand the stress Roy must be feeling. "Easy, Roy. We can't rush in there like the cavalry or they'll kill the hostages, including Johnny. These people have already admitted to murdering one person and they have made it obvious they aren't going to give up without a fight. We have to wait and be patient for them to make a move, hopefully one where they'll screw up and we can get them, without causing harm to those people. They don't care how many more of the hostages die. You understand?" Solemnly, Roy nodded. As he looked up helplessly towards the bank, he saw the front door open and anxiously watched as four people came out. It was the three robbers and Johnny. Roy visibly blanched as he saw the men holding guns to his partner, who was blindfolded and whose hands were tied behind him. He was being forcibly led up the sidewalk towards a parked and waiting light blue, four-door sedan. "Last chance to put your guns down and let the paramedic go!" Vince, knowing his words were spoken uselessly, made an attempt anyway. "No way! We're getting in this car and you'd better not follow us, or pretty boy fireman here is dead!" Pete shouted back. Vince had no choice but to let them go. He yelled, "Hold your fire!" to his men and sighed, watching as they pushed Johnny roughly into the backseat of the car, waiting silently as it sped away. Roy, witnessing the police doing nothing to help his best friend out of this predicament, was only a moment away from losing it as he took one long, last glimpse of Johnny. When the car was out of sight, he turned to face Sergeant Howard. His eyes were red and he was breathing heavily. "Vince! They have Johnny! They're taking him away! You're letting them get away!" DeSoto cried out, an undeniable terror gripping at his soul. Vince grabbed the overwrought paramedic by the shoulders. "Roy, calm down, calm down! There's something you don't know," the policeman said, and Roy felt his stomach heave, certain the news was bad. Howard continued, keeping his hands on DeSoto's shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. "There's an undercover police car out there and it's following them!" E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny sat quietly in the back seat of the getaway car, his hands tied tightly together behind him and a blindfold covering his eyes. He had no idea where they were heading and his mind raced to come up with a plan on how he would get himself out of this. Maybe a plan on staying alive would be a better idea he thought with some consternation. Gage wondered where Roy was now and if the police were following them. He was glad he had been the chosen hostage, instead of one of the women, and thankful the other lives had been spared. The young paramedic felt badly for the bank manager, but realized it could have been a lot worse. For a moment, Johnny reflected back on a rescue he and Roy had been called to a couple of years previously, where they had been held hostage at another bank. He had spoken to those two thieves and had ended up winning them over with his logical view of their situation. They had surrendered to the police, after he had pointed out to them their obvious mistakes. But he didn't think the three men with him in the car right now would listen to logic. It was a little too late for that now, he was being kidnapped and they were getting away, away from the police and his life. Johnny shuddered, wondering how much of his life was actually left. Again, his thoughts turned to Roy and the dark-haired paramedic found himself wondering if he would ever see his partner and best friend again. Not one to ever just give up, Gage decided it was worth a try to talk to his captors. Maybe they would let him know just what their plan was, and when they would let him go. "Ah, we've been driving for quite some time now. I think you've gotten away, guys. Why don't you just drop me off and keep on going? You have your, ah, money, you don't need me anymore," Johnny tried to reason with them. He recognized Shack's voice, the man who was sitting beside him. "Not yet, pretty boy. We're gonna keep you around for a while." Wishing he could see, Johnny next heard Pete's voice, coming from the front passenger seat of the car. "Hey, Sonny, I been looking at the side view mirror here and I been noticin' that same black car's been following us. I'm beginning to think they're cops!" "Yeah, I've been watchin' them myself. They're tryin' to keep their distance, but funny how they just won't go away! Here, look at this," Sonny, who was driving, said. Johnny felt the car turn sharply towards the right and he felt himself leaning into Shack, who gave him a hard push away. Not knowing what was happening and not being able to see his surroundings was sending the young medic over the edge. He felt the car jolt forward abruptly, with greater speed and did not know they were travelling along a one-way street the wrong way. He heard horns honking, and tires screeching, felt the vehicle zigzag in between on-coming traffic, but he didn't know what they were doing. Johnny felt his heart rate increase. "Look, they are following us! They are cops!" Shack yelled. Johnny brightened. He was about to be rescued, or so he believed. "Well, you know what that means, we're gonna have to ambush them!" Pete exclaimed. Sonny accelerated and Gage could only guess he was trying to outrun the police. But suddenly the car turned so abruptly and at the increased speed it literally swung around, sending Johnny flying forward. He hit his forehead sharply on the driver's seat in front of him. "Over there, Sonny, it's a dead end street!" Pete yelled. "On it!" Sonny answered back. Johnny began to feel the adrenaline pumping through his body as fear filled his senses. He knew something terrible was about to happen. If only he could see... Just then, the car came to a screeching halt and Johnny felt himself being pushed down to the floor. Someone hissed in his ear, "Stay down if you know what's good for you!" He then heard three doors open, scrambling and felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he recognized the unmistakable sounds of gunfire. His mind was swimming with thoughts, concern and fear. Gage wanted desperately to get up, to be able to see what was happening and where they were, but that was impossible. The gunfire continued, shots ringing in his ears. He jumped, deeply startled, as a bullet penetrated the car's back window, causing it to break. Glass shattered down in the passenger seat around him and, fearing for his life, Johnny felt his breaths coming in short gasps. He hoped and prayed silently that the cops would be the winners in this deadly encounter and that he would be set free momentarily. Almost as suddenly as the gunfire had started, it came to an end. The silence was almost deafening as Johnny held his breath, waiting, hoping it would be a police officer who would come and help him out of the car. But he immediately felt all his hopes diminish as he heard the sounds of people entering the car and the doors slamming shut. "Shack, you drive, c'mon, let's go!" Johnny recognized young Pete's voice. "But...Sonny...," Shack started. "He's dead, Shack! He's dead, just like those dumb-ass cops! Now, let's get a move on, before they figure it out and send more damn cops and we gotta go through this all over again!" Johnny felt the blood drain from his face as he settled into panic mode. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Roy DeSoto sat silently at the kitchen table at Station 51, staring down into his plate of food, too upset to even take a bite. He had been forced to go back to work, partnered with Dwyer Fitzgerald, as they awaited news from the police regarding Johnny. All the men were concerned about Gage, but naturally his ordeal was hitting Roy the hardest. He felt useless and wished he could be out there with the police helping to track down his partner, but that was not possible. Vince had promised to let him know when they had caught Johnny's captors, giving DeSoto hope to believe that would not be long. But the time was ticking away, and the longer it took, the worse Roy knew it could be. He was starting to think that he may never see his best friend alive again. "Hey, Roy, I thought you loved Mike's spaghetti," he heard Chet say, from what seemed to be a very great distance away. "What?" Roy queried, a lost look on his paled face. "Mike makes his county-wide famous spaghetti and you haven't touched a bite," Chet repeated. He had barely eaten anything himself though, his worried thoughts also focused on Johnny. "Can't. Not hungry. Sorry, guys," the senior paramedic stammered, and pushing the plate away, got up and went to the couch where he slumped down in a weakened state beside Henry, the station dog. "But, hey, Mike, it was nice of you to make your spaghetti out of the hamburger meat...Johnny bought...I bought...I just can't eat right now, just no appetite. I do appreciate your doing the cooking though, on behalf...of Johnny. Thanks." "Yeah," Mike replied. "We had all the other ingredients here, from the last time I made it, and I thought maybe you'd like it better than...a hamburger." "Right now, I'd love to be sitting down eating one of Johnny's lousy hamburgers," DeSoto muttered, looking away.  Realizing then that he might have offended the engineer, Roy stared over at him. "Sorry, Mike, I didn't mean anything by that, except..." "It's okay, Roy, I understand," Stoker replied, smiling slightly, trying to mask the look of grave concern on his  face. He too was wishing, like the other men at the table, that Gage had not been taken from them and that it would have been the dark-haired paramedic who had prepared his usual dinner fare that evening. "Look, Roy, we're all concerned for Johnny, but the cops are following them and they'll catch them soon. Johnny'll be all right," Chet replied, trying to keep his voice even so Roy wouldn't know how much he too, was fearful for the dark-haired medic's safety. Kelly wasn't exactly sure if he were attempting to convince himself or Roy, but the stocky firefighter believed he had to do his best to retain his usual upbeat and optimistic demeanor to help keep everyone else from falling apart. "But, it's taking so long!" Roy grumbled and reached over to scratch Henry's ears. The dog made a strange noise from deep in his chest and flopped down on his side, encouraging Roy to pet him more. "C'mon, Roy, you're not going to do yourself or Johnny any good by not eating and making yourself sick," Captain Stanley spoke up. He forced himself to take another bite of spaghetti to prove his point, but he, like every other member of his crew, was also having trouble eating. Marco looked over to Roy and got up from the table as well. He took his still full plate and put it on the kitchen counter, then turned around, sighing. "Don't the cops know how this waiting around for news is killing us?" "They're doing everything they can. We have to believe Johnny is going to be found and he's going to be all right," Mike replied, again with his usual quietness. He poked his fork around in his plate. Roy glanced over at the crew and sighed. He knew he was lucky to be working with these fine men, and felt they were all like a little family. The guys are right he decided and rose up from the couch. Walking past the men at the table, Roy was slightly surprised when he saw Vince Howard walk into the station, approaching them. All thoughts of hope diminished when Roy noticed the glum look on the veteran police officer's face. The paramedic felt his knees go suddenly weak. "Vince! Johnny? Did the undercover detectives apprehend the bank robbers?" Roy asked, his heart beating wildly as every man at the table stopped eating and looked up with trepidation at the cop. Sergeant Howard hesitated, not sure how to start or exactly what to say. All his years of experience speaking to victims of crime flew out the window as he glanced into Roy's questioning eyes, momentarily feeling the blond paramedic's anxiety and concern. "Ah, Roy, gentlemen, we've run into some trouble," Vince began and he watched DeSoto's face turn an alarming shade of white, as he expected the worst. "No!" Roy yelled, a lump forming in his throat, his eyes watery. He could not bear to imagine that his best friend had been murdered. Immediately, Vince put an understanding arm around Roy's shoulder. The men at the table all stood up and crowded around. Sergeant Howard knew he'd better tell them exactly what had happened. "Gentlemen, our undercover detectives that were following them are...dead. We found them about an hour ago. They were shot. Seems like the fugitives ambushed them on some dead end street. One of the robbers was also killed and left there on the road. We went searching when our guys suddenly cut off contact with us, and someone in a house on the street called to let us know what they saw happening. Must have happened really quick, by the time backup got there, there was nothing on the scene except for our undercover car riddled with bullets and three dead detectives. I don't think they had much of a chance," Howard explained, sadness evident. "Oh no," Captain Stanley replied, shaking his head and rubbing the side of his face. The rest of the men stood there, stunned, not knowing what to say, but each one wondering the fate of their kidnapped crewmate. Roy seemed to be in a trance as time stood still for the moment. In a nanosecond, he envisioned his partner in his mind's eye, trying to imagine what his last few minutes of life had been like. "Johnny?" DeSoto spoke suddenly, coming back, his voice barely above a whisper. Vince took turns looking at all the men around him, hesitating, then cast his glance at Roy. "We...ah, we haven't been able to find his body," the policeman started. "We don't know if they killed him or not, or kept him as a hostage. But he and two of the suspects are missing right now." E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny was still lying on the floor in the back seat of the blue sedan, still in shock over the murders of the police detectives that had been following them. His arms were still tied behind his back and he was getting very stiff and sore in the position he was in. They had been driving awhile now and he was certain they had exited off the freeway, heading out of the city. He had strained his other senses to try to get an idea of where they were going, and believed they were now travelling somewhere up in the mountains. He had felt the upwards movement of the car as it pulled forward and had noticed very few other car sounds. Johnny deduced if he were trying to get lost, then the mountains would be the best place to go. Wide open and vast, you could literally go missing quite easily, and anyone looking for you would have definite problems. His heart sunk as he thought about it, knowing it would be very difficult for the police to locate them. He listened intently to everything around him, trying to memorize each turn the car made, and the sounds passing by. At one point, the car came to a stop and he felt something, perhaps a blanket, thrown over him. Johnny realized they were stopped for gas, hearing the station attendant talking amicably to the two men in the front. "Good evening, gentlemen," the attendant replied. "What'll it be?" Johnny recognized Shack's voice. "Fill it up." "Care for me to check the oil, or wash the windows?" "No, that's fine. Just the gas, and make it snappy, we're in a hurry." "Yes, sir." Johnny could hear the sound of the nozzle being put in the side of the vehicle and could smell the gasoline. "Hey, what happened to your back window?" the attendant was asking. Hesitation, then Johnny identified Pete's voice answering. "Well, you're not gonna believe this, but as we were driving along, a big boulder came out of nowhere, and crashed down on us! It was lucky we weren't killed!" "Yeah, that seems to happen a lot around here. That'll be fifteen dollars, sir," the young man replied. Gage wished he could cry out for help, but knew if he did, it would mean the end for the attendant, as well as himself. The car soon began moving again and he felt the blanket being pulled off him. He could hear his captors talking nervously in the front seat, whispering so that he could not make out exactly what they were saying. Johnny was bouncing around painfully in the back and on a couple of occasions he had hit his forehead against the back seat. He felt the blindfold around his eyes loosen and move up slightly on his forehead, enough so that he could now open his eyes. As the young paramedic looked around, blinking hard, waiting for his eyesight to come into focus, he worked diligently at trying to get the ropes off his wrists. But they were tied tightly and he could feel them cutting sharply into his flesh. He tried hard not to cry out in pain and concentrated on working to loosen the ropes. He tugged and maneuvered his wrists, ignoring everything else for the time being, working in a frenzy to get them free. After what seemed an eternity, Johnny realized his efforts had paid off.  He felt the knot come apart and the rope fell off his wrists. He was momentarily elated, but knew he could not allow his captors to see that he was free. The dark-haired paramedic sat quietly and now focused his attention on trying to hear what they were saying. Gage was soon rewarded as the conversation between the two fugitives grew louder. "We gotta kill him, Pete! If we let him go, he'll lead the cops right to us! We got a hundred and thirty-five thousand big ones sitting here! We can get on a plane to Cuba and live the good life!" Shack was saying, as Johnny strained to hear him. "I don't know, Shack..." "When we get to the cabin, well, he's already tied and blindfolded, we'll take him out back, line him up, and put a bullet through his brain! He'll never know what hit him!" Shack reasoned, rather casually. Johnny shuddered. It was creepy overhearing your own murder being planned. He tried to think of some way to get out of this dilemma, but hopelessness and despair started to overwhelm him. Johnny felt the fear grow rapidly inside him, knowing he was going to die, and not knowing what to do to prevent it from happening. He was all alone, there were two of them, and they were both armed... He racked his brain, trying hard to come up with a solution in which he would survive this, but none came. Johnny began to make peace within himself, and started to accept the fact that he was going to die today. He felt his throat tighten up and his eyes watered at the thoughts of his own mortality and helplessness. Johnny knew he was going to be killed, there was no way he could stop it and... Suddenly, his mind screamed at him. No! I can't give up! I've never been a quitter and I'm not going to start now! If I'm gonna die, then I'm gonna die fighting! C'mon, Gage, think! Think!... His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Pete and Shack talking more, continuing their discussion about whether or not they should kill him. "Shack, I just don't see why we gotta waste him. I mean, he's a fireman, for Christ's sake! A fireman! My uncle was a fireman...," Pete was saying. "What the hell is the matter with you? You going soft on me, or what? We're in this for the long haul, buddy, and if that means we gotta waste a fireman, then we gotta waste a fireman! You killed three cops for cryin' out loud and you shot the bank manager in cold blood...," Shack reiterated the day's events, causing a chill to run down the dark-haired paramedic's spine. "Look, I'm not going soft on you! I want that money just as much as you do! Poor Sonny, he...he died for that money, for our cause! I just think that we've killed too many people today...I mean, I had to drop that manager guy, we had a point we had to make! And as for the cops, well, that was kinda like self defense! I only shot one of them, you killed the other two, remember?" "That's exactly why one fireman isn't gonna make a hill a beans difference. We can't keep him alive, Pete! He's a God-damn witness! The way I see it, we ain't got a choice in the matter," Shack replied as he continued to drive along the nearly deserted road, high up in the San Gabriel Mountains. Johnny settled back and sighed. He knew what was going to happen, maybe he could somehow get Pete completely on his side and, with any luck, he might set him free. After all, Pete didn't seem to want anything to do with killing him. Maybe, just maybe, he would be pivotal in Gage's release. But Johnny was interrupted in his thoughts, as suddenly, he was jolted when the car came to a very abrupt stop. The paramedic instantly grabbed the loose rope and wound it lightly around his wrists, still pretending to be helplessly tied up. He noticed, for the first time, that it was now very dark outside as he used the car seat to rub his blindfold back down over his eyes, just as Shack opened the back door and leaned in, grabbing him roughly, forcing him out of the vehicle. Johnny felt his pulse quicken. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Not being able to concentrate on his job, Roy had asked for, and been granted by a concerned Captain Stanley, the rest of his shift off so that he could begin organizing a search for Johnny with the police. He had called his wife, Joanne, earlier in the day when the bank robbers had first kidnapped Johnny and she had instantly felt the same panic and fear as her husband. But she had held out hope that the police would capture the men who had taken Johnny until DeSoto had picked up the phone to call her yet a second time, advising her on the latest news that their friend was now officially listed as missing. She sat in her living room, and attempted to not cry as she told her two young children, Chris and Jennifer, about their "Uncle" Johnny's disappearance. Joanne knew they needed to be told something, as their love for Gage was all too obvious, and they would be crushed if something did happen to him. But the children were crying as she finished explaining it to them, and when she turned on the T.V. and watched the special news bulletin that interrupted the normal programming at a little past eight o'clock, holding them by her side, she was glad she did tell them. This top story of the day was about the bank robbery, the murders of the manager and three police detectives, and the kidnapping of L.A. County Paramedic John Gage. They watched the news closely and Joanne was somewhat satisfied to see that they had shown a picture of the robber who had been killed by police, Sonny O'Hare. The news broadcast also featured police composite drawings of the other two suspects, Pete Hanrahan and Wilfred "Shack" Shackleford, along with a recent photograph of Johnny and a vague description of the getaway car, including the license plate number. Hopefully someone out there would remember seeing them and lead police to the safe return of Paramedic Gage. Roy was sitting at the police station now, in Sergeant Howard's office, his mind buzzing with questions, about where his partner could possibly be and how they would ever locate him. He knew time was an important factor, and the longer it took, the less chance of survival Johnny had. He had been missing now for over five hours. Earlier, when he had arrived at the police station, Roy had driven to the dead end street with Vince where Sonny and the three detectives had been slain, in an attempt to find some clue that could tell them something, anything. They went to the end of the short street, the area surrounding the killings now roped off, and had waited while forensic police studied the undercover car for details. But they could come up with next to nothing that would help them in their quest to find Johnny. They had went to the home of the elderly woman who had been the lone witness to the massacre and the only thing she was able to tell them was that the color of the suspects car had been light blue. She had not seen Johnny at all and, unfortunately, could provide no answers to his whereabouts. However, she had seen the path the blue sedan had taken when it hurriedly left the scene. Roy and Vince left the small street, driving out and turning right, as the woman had informed them. They traveled around for a little while, and realized that there were many paths the fugitives could have taken. Los Angeles was one of the biggest cities in the world, with one of the most complicated freeway systems. Roy felt discouraged. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Back at the police station, DeSoto had made several phone calls. First, he began to call on several off-duty firefighters to see if they would be interested in helping with a search for Johnny. He was surprised, although not overly, to discover almost all of the dozen or so men immediately answer in the affirmative. DeSoto knew that his partner was both well-known and well-liked throughout the county and realized he would have a lot of help, should they require it. Secondly, he picked up the phone, with some trepidation, and began to call various hospitals in the area, to inquire if, by chance, Johnny had ended up there. He was met, each time, with negative results, and couldn't really decide if that were a good thing or not. The eight o'clock news broadcast had also made mention of a hotline number for people to call in, should they remember seeing anything that would aid the police in finding these men. Vince had stationed one of his men to the task of answering these calls, which had numbered in the dozens, to filter out the possibles from the not possibles. At one point, the young police officer, by the name of Justin Miller, came running into the Sergeant's office, waving a piece of paper in his hand. Vince and Roy were startled by the excitement on his face. "Hey, Sarge, I think this call might have something! The witness said he definitely passed that 1972 blue Ford sedan on the San Diego freeway, southbound, not ten minutes ago! Now, I know the news people mentioned the license plate and color of the car, but the year and make were never included. I think this guy might have something. He was calling from La Jolla!" Officer Miller stated, exuberantly. Vince took the piece of paper from the young man's hand, and studied it for a moment. "Hmmm, if they were heading south to San Diego, that might mean they're trying to get across the border into Mexico. Look, we don't have time to send any of our men down there right now. Justin, get Sam to help you, speed is of the essence right now! Get a call into San Diego P.D. and tell them what you got. Talk to someone in charge there. Have them issue a look-out and APB on that car, the two robbery suspects and Gage. Tell Sam to get a hold of both U.S and Mexican Customs and keep an eye out for that car! Now, move!" Justin left Vince's office with the same speed he had entered. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* His men now busy working on the San Diego lead, Vince had left his office to answer the phone calls on the hotline, leaving Roy alone. As he sat pondering a million things at the police precinct, DeSoto began to wonder what route he would take if he were a robber on the loose. Would he stay in the Los Angeles City area? No, too many people, too many cops, too easy to be noticed. Would he head north and travel upstate, hoping that the news broadcast hadn't reached that area yet? Again, he shook his head. The murders of three police officers was extremely newsworthy and Roy was certain most of the country, as well as parts of Canada and probably Mexico were aware of it by now.  Plus, it was much too far of a drive on the freeway, too many pitstops to make, and he was well aware the CHP had been informed the details regarding the suspects and were on full alert. Roy shook his head and thought about going south. Possibly, it was just over an hours drive to San Diego and they may have left the country, heading fast into Mexico, but he also knew that both San Diego P.D. and Mexican Customs officials had been warned and they could not feasibly have gotten into that country with Johnny tied up in the back seat. Unless, they had killed Johnny and dumped his body somewhere along the way... The senior paramedic shuddered. He did not even want to remotely consider that a possibility. Next, Roy thought about the mountains. In his mind, that seemed to make the most sense. The Angeles Crest Highway, as well as Highway 39 into the San Gabriels were both somewhat low-key roads, not used by a great many people, especially during the evening hours, and if he were running away and did not wish to be easily identified, Roy deduced that would be the route he would take. It also was a much shorter and secluded trip than either heading north towards San Francisco, or south into Mexico. Roy became slightly excited at his deduction. No one at the police department had even thought about the fugitives going into the mountains looking for escape. Suddenly, out of the blue, for a moment, he had a flash of a vision in his mind's eye of his partner lying on the floor in the back seat of the blue car. He was struggling to free himself of the ropes that bound his wrists. Staring straight ahead, shocked for a second, and lost in his image, DeSoto shivered slightly as an eerie sensation enveloped him. He could almost feel the car as it pulled upwards along the hillside road and he had yet another vision of a small cabin in the mountains. But as quickly as the image had entered his mind, it was gone. The paramedic could not get the feeling to leave him. He grasped his wrists, suddenly feeling a strange, cutting-like, burning sensation around them. What the hell?...Again, the vision of the cabin in the San Gabriel Mountains vividly entered his mind and he knew exactly what he had to do. Getting up quickly from the chair, DeSoto trotted into the small office across the hall where Vince was sitting, manning the phone line. "Vince! He's not in San Diego, he's not in San Diego!" Roy nearly shouted, obviously excitedly as he stood, leaning across the table from the sergeant. "What? What are you talking about?" the policeman asked, looking strangely at the paramedic. "Johnny is not in San Diego! C'mon, we have to get a search party and get up to the mountains, before it's too late!" Roy spoke, his words rushing together. "Wait a second, slow down! How do you know he's not in San Diego? That's been our only credible lead, so far," Vince stated, still somewhat shocked by the exuberance DeSoto was showing. "Look, I can't explain it. I was just sitting there across the hall, in your office and I had this weird, kind of vision. I saw him, Vince! I know it sounds crazy, but I saw Johnny! He was in the blue car, they were heading into the mountains, I can't explain it, but I know he's alive still and they're heading into the mountains! For Christ's sake, Vince, let's get going now, please!" Roy pleaded, catching the look of doubt on Howard's face. "Roy, even if what you're saying is an absolute certainty, do you realize how many men it would take to conduct a search of the mountains around Los Angeles? Did your psychic vision tell you exactly which way to go? Do you know for certain what mountain area they are in?" Vince questioned, slamming Roy back down to earth. The paramedic shook his head, realizing finally, that they still didn't have enough to go on. "You're right. Sorry, I was just overwhelmed. I've never had anything like that happen to me before. I mean, it was so strange. I could literally feel the ropes around his wrists! But, you know, as weird as it sounds, I did see an image of a cabin...twice." The ringing of the phone brought the two men out of their thoughts. "Howard," Vince replied as he picked up the receiver. Roy watched, feeling somewhat helpless and despondent. He had deep feelings that he knew where Johnny was being taken, but the exact location was still a mystery. Had it not happened to him, Roy would have probably seemed as skeptical as Vince was regarding his psychic thought. Nothing like that had ever really happened to him before. Sure, there were times when he and Johnny seemed to be able to read each other's minds, but this image he saw and the feelings of intenseness that went with it, were unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He wished silently that it would happen again and produce a more vivid and detailed image. Snapped out of his thoughts, Roy listened as he heard Vince speaking on the telephone. The sergeant grabbed a pen and paper and began to write down information that his caller was relating to him. "Yeah, right...two men stopped for gas... light blue car. The back window was blown out?...Do you know the make? Year? Did you get the license plate?...yeah...Good. Hey, did you happen to see anyone else in the vehicle?...No...okay...your address?...5720 Mountain Ridge Road?...yeah...that's off of San Gabriel Canyon Road?...got it...Thanks." The policeman looked up at the paramedic, a strange look on his face. "Well, I can't believe it. If this caller was the real thing, and I believe he was, then you were right. They are in the mountains, now we have an exact location of where they were ten minutes ago. Let's get that search party out there, on the double!" Roy felt his heartbeat increase as they rushed out of the office. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The young paramedic felt a rough grab on his upper arm, forcing him to walk. He could not see where he was going and the captor responsible was pulling him so quickly and hard that he felt himself stumbling a few times. But the hand grasping his arm was tight and strong and he was literally being dragged along. He felt his adrenaline pumping and his mind filled with ideas. He was looking for a way out, something, anything to help him escape these murdering felons, anything. Johnny heard the sound of a door opening and then the rough hand pushed him hard against the back of his shoulder. He fell forward, nearly hitting the floor, but catching himself in time. Another shove and this time he dropped to his right side, landing heavily, and ending up sprawled out on the hard surface. "Stay right there, pretty boy," Gage recognized Shack's voice. He heard the audible sound of footsteps walking away from him. Straining his ears he was able to make out voices, but could not catch everything that was being said. Johnny moved his wrists around, grabbing at the loosely wound rope until it was nearly off. He knew he'd have to be ready for when the time came and they decided to kill him, and he guessed by the parts of his kidnappers conversation that he could make out, that that would be soon. "The cops don't know where we are. Let's stay here awhile, we can let the guy go, and then get us another car and take off to the airport." "Pete, will you use your brain for once in your life? We can't let him go, he's an eyewitness who can identify us! He watched you shoot that old bank manager in cold blood! He knows we killed those cops. Cops, man! We let him go, he'll just go back and lead the cops right to us! We'll get the death penalty for sure! I'm takin' him out back and I'm gonna shoot him now. Look, we just ain't got a choice, Pete. We've already killed four people, one fireman ain't gonna make a difference," Shack said. "Yeah, but Shack, nobody was supposed to die! Nobody! And now you just want to kill a fireman, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time! I just don't think I can go for it. If we let him loose and get ourselves to the airport, we'll be long gone before he even finds his way outta here!" "Pete, think of Sonny. This heist was his baby, he planned it for weeks. Even got us this cabin to hide out in! We was gonna start fresh, live the good life. And now, he's dead, Pete. He's gone and for what? As far as I'm concerned, those lousy cops got what they deserved," Shack voiced his opinion. "And we coulda killed that pretty boy fireman back there with them, but we didn't, we spared his life then. But we can't spare it no longer. We gotta kill him." "Well, you do it then, I don't want it on my conscience," Pete replied in a low voice. "I just don't see why we can't get outta here right now, take a flight outta here tonight, and be long out of this country before anyone's the wiser." "Pete, c'mon! You know we gotta hide out awhile here! Don't you think the cops have surrounded the airport to keep an eye out for us? If we even make one move there, we'll be arrested in a matter of seconds! We can't chance it, Pete. We gotta hang out here for a couple weeks, then when they get tired, and they drop their guard we can do it. Right now, it's just too chancy. This was the plan, boy, and we're gonna stick to it! We got plenty of food here to last us two weeks, we don't have to leave this cabin. Believe me, once we cut and dye our hair, like we planned, and the trail goes cold, we'll get out of this! But we can't keep the fireman! And, I'm not about to let him go, so he can rat on us! Pete, ya gotta start bein' a little more sensible!" Johnny could no longer hear what they were saying, their voices were nothing but quiet whispers. He sat still on the floor, wondering, contemplating, and not willing to give up yet. There just had to be some way out of this. As he sat racking his brain, looking for a solution, for what he estimated was the better part of an hour, all was quiet. The dark-haired paramedic began to wonder exactly what his captors were up to now. It was just too quiet and it scared him. For a second, he thought about getting up and running, but realized that would only be cause for them to shoot him in the back. And he didn't even know exactly where he was in the cabin, or how close to the door he was. Just as Johnny was debating whether or not to pull the blindfold off his eyes and run, he suddenly heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Damn! Fear flooded every inch of his body. Think! Think!  He needed to get the blindfold off so that he could see some kind of escape, and purely out of panic, made an attempt, but this time the fabric was not cooperating. He knew he could not bring his hands up to pull it off, because they would see he was free and undoubtedly shoot him on the floor. Rough arms yanked him to his feet and he was pulled hastily, forced to walk. The now familiar touch of cold steel pushing into the back of his head made it all too clear to him that he had better not put up a fight. The sound of a door opening, and they were outside again. He could feel the cold night air around him and shivered. Johnny knew it was Shack leading him to his death. They walked for several, long seconds before he felt himself being pushed up against a hard, tall surface, presumably a tree. His captor was so close to him that Johnny could smell his rancid breath and body odor, and the paramedic fought to keep the nausea at bay. Another few seconds and Gage could hear the sounds of leaves and branches crackling as Shack walked away from him. "So, this is it? You're just going to line me up and kill me in cold blood?" Gage asked in a low, deep voice. He was trembling, both from cold and fear as he stood, his back leaned in against the tree, but trying hard to not let his panic show. "No, just thought you'd like some fresh air," Shack replied, sarcastically, pulling the sawed-off shotgun from out of his belt.  He looked down at the weapon, making sure it was fully loaded, and then glanced back at the paramedic, somewhat impressed that he hadn't tried to run. "Do you get some kind of a rise out of killing people?" Johnny asked, attempting to stall for time. "Shut up, pretty boy!" "Look, if you're going to shoot me, at least have the guts to take the damn blindfold off. I want to be able to see your face," Johnny hissed, anger now beginning to take over where the fear left off. "No way," Shack stated and raised his arm, pointing the gun directly at Gage's head. "You know, you're nothing but a lousy coward," the medic exclaimed, and started to laugh, almost hysterically. His behavior shocked his would-be assassin. "What the hell are you laughin' at, pretty boy?" Shack asked. Momentarily intrigued, the tall man with the long hair and cratered face lowered his arm and walked closer towards Johnny, who was still backed up, execution style, against the tree. "Well, if you must know, you're about the biggest coward I've ever seen in my whole life. Here you are, with my life in your hands, and you can't even stand to look me in the eye. Why is that, Shack, why?" Johnny asked his captor, speaking his name for the first time since his ordeal began. "Hey, I ain't no coward! Don't forget, I killed two people today! Cops, at that! I don't have no problem with killin' a pretty boy fireman!" "Then take off the damn blindfold and let me see your ugly face as you pull the trigger!" Gage shouted. This was not a request, he was making a demand. His brazen attitude angered Shack and instantly he raised his arm,  pointing the gun at the paramedic once again. "No freakin' way," Shack repeated and walked a few feet back. As the felon turned to face him once again, gun aimed directly at his head, Johnny strained his ears to their full extent. He did not know what was around him, but knew he'd have to listen intently and react very, very quickly. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Vince Howard and Roy had driven along the I-210 to the Angeles Crest Highway at speeds well over the posted limits until they reached the connecting Highway 39. Because of the very winding, steep and often narrow parts of Highway 39, they had had to slow their pace considerably, much to Roy's chagrin. But they were finally high in the San Gabriel Mountains and had reached Mountain Ridge Road, again driving at breakneck speeds, with two other police cars in close proximity behind them. They were following the lead that Vince had gotten after having spoken to the gas station attendant. They had heard from the police officers who had interviewed him that the young attendant could positively ID the suspects. He had told police that he'd just seen the television news broadcast about them when they had pulled into the station for gas. He had been somewhat shocked to see them, but had made great efforts to remain calm and remember all he could about them. He had even pointed the police in the direction to which they had gone after having left the gas station. As they cruised along Mountain Ridge Road, hoping that the fugitives had stayed on this route, they could see very few cabins. Roy could remember what the cabin in his vivid image looked like, and the ones they were passing were nothing like what he'd seen. He realized that it was crazy, how could he possibly know this, but as his eyes scoured each house, he shook his head. None were anything like the one he'd pictured in his mind. In particular, they were searching for a place that had the light blue getaway car used by the killers, parked next to it. But not one of the homes they saw had a blue car. It was very dark, and they were getting quite discouraged as they continued to race along the rather twisty, grinding road. The men were being driven by desperation and hope in their attempt to find the bank robbers and Johnny. Roy said a silent prayer as he scoped out the area, hoping with great anxiety that they would find his partner, his best friend, his brother, still alive. It was excruciatingly dark and difficult to see with no lighting along the nearly deserted road. Both Vince and Roy held their breath as yet another cabin came into view on the left. But disappointment was evident when they saw no sign of a blue car. Roy began to doubt his vision. Maybe he was cracking up, maybe his fear for his partner's safety caused him to imagine a cabin in the mountains. He sighed and stared out the window, looking as far into the darkness as he could. Finally, he could stand it no longer and looked over to Vince. "You know, Vince, what if...what if they aren't here?" DeSoto asked, exhaustion beginning to wear away at him, his optimism fading as well. "Then we'll start all over and we'll keep looking until we do find them!" Sergeant Howard replied with a determined certainty. "Don't worry, Roy, we're going to find Johnny." "What if...what if all we find is a...corpse?" the blond paramedic asked somberly, worry overwhelming him as he realized Johnny had been gone nearly seven hours now. Vince kept driving, keeping silent. He too was having second thoughts about finding Gage alive. But he knew he had to be strong for Roy. "Look, let's not think about that, let's just concentrate on finding them. Let's just hold onto the belief that we're gonna find him alive and well. We can't give up, Roy," Howard replied. Rounding yet another bend, listening as the tires screeched because of the speed they were travelling, Roy felt an unexplainable feeling come over him. Quickly, he jerked his head to look out his window. Before it even came into sight, he exclaimed excitedly, "Vince, that's it! That's the cabin! I know it is!" Vince stepped on the accelerator and he too saw a tiny wood cabin off to the right. As they approached, Roy's heart began beating wildly. Parked outside this cabin was a light blue car, the same blue car used by the robbers. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Click! Johnny heard the hammer being pulled back. He prayed the cold and fear he was feeling would not paralyze him. He knew he had only one chance, one second, and his timing had to be perfect... E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* As the police car came to a grinding halt, Roy jumped out faster than Vince. But the sergeant quickly called him back in. Reluctantly, DeSoto slid back inside the vehicle, his impatience evident. "Vince! It's them! That's the car! They're here!" the senior paramedic practically shouted. "I know, I know! But you've got to stay here while we search the place. Don't forget, you're a fireman, not a cop and the only reason you're here is because I'm an understanding and sympathetic man. These men are armed and dangerous, and they've killed four people." "But...," Roy began to object, hoping against all hope that the bank robbers hadn't made it five people. "Sorry. You stay put. I'll call you if...," Howard started. Suddenly, the loud bang of a gunshot rang through their ears. Ignoring Vince's order to stay in the car, Roy ran with the police to where the sound had come from. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Johnny dove to his left, rolling slightly, the deafening thunder of the gun causing him to tremble. Quickly, he pulled the ropes off of his wrists as he crawled on the damp, hard ground, his heart pounding in his chest, no idea where he was or where he was going. He reached up and yanked the blindfold off his eyes, but it was much too dark for him to see anything anyway. The dark-haired paramedic rose up slightly, looking around, trying to get his bearings, to see if he were being followed. Another gunshot came dangerously close to him, hitting the ground, spraying the dirt and leaves, and he panicked. He had to run, get away as fast and as far as he could. His head throbbed as he moved through the woods, running as fast as he could, running blindly in a desperate panic. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* "No! We're too late!" Roy cried despondently and dropped weakly to his knees. Two of the other four police officers, who had accompanied Vince and Roy to the scene, quickly surrounded Shack, guns drawn, and after a brief struggle, handcuffed the tall fugitive, hauling him away into custody, shoving him into the backseat of one of the police cars. All the men had witnessed Shack shooting into the woods with his sawed-off shotgun, presumably at Johnny. As Roy and Vince stood outside in the darkness, they turned around, noticing that the other two policemen were bringing Pete forcibly out of the cabin. One of the officers held two large bags in his hand. They loaded Pete into the other waiting cruiser. He was grumbling and spitting obscenities as they shut the door. "Damn, stupid Shack. I told him not to kill the damn fireman. But he wouldn't listen. Sometimes I think that guy has shit for brains..." Vince helped Roy to his feet and realized the paramedic was shaking. There was no sign of Gage, and Howard knew they would have to start the grisly job of looking for him. The sergeant looked at Roy with compassion, frowning at the worry etched on the blond man's face. The young police officer who had come out of the cabin with the two bags of money wandered back inside to retrieve the third. He went over to where Roy and Vince were standing to show them. "It's all there, Sarge," the cop replied, smiling, then looking at Roy, his facial expression changed. "I guess the only thing left to do is find your friend. I'm really sorry, I hope he's all right." "That makes two of us," DeSoto muttered in a low voice, his optimism fading as he glanced out towards the woods surrounding the cabin. Walking over to the police car, Vince reached in and pulled out a large flashlight. He asked two of his men to stay at the cruisers with the suspects, and told the remaining two to grab their lights and follow him. The wooded area behind the cabin was in complete darkness, pitch black and the men hurried their search efforts, not knowing whether Johnny would be found alive or not. After a fifteen minute search turned up nothing, Roy and Vince headed back to the car, anxiety overwhelming them. Roy knew that if Johnny had been shot, and were still alive, he'd need immediate medical care. But, where in the world was he? E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The dark-haired paramedic ran as fast as he dared through the eerie, pitch-black forest behind the cabin. He had no idea whether Shack had taken off after him or even where he was going. He only knew that he had to get away before his captors hunted him down and finished him off. At first, Johnny barely felt the cold as he continued to jog, arms out, making sure there was nothing in his way. It was so difficult to see and he stumbled several times. But he never stopped, or slowed his pace until he was certain he was far enough away from the cabin and his captors. Having not slept or eaten anything all day, Gage soon found himself becoming increasingly tired. Dressed in only his short-sleeved blue paramedic shirt, he suddenly shivered, feeling chilled to the bone by the cold mountain air. His whole body ached and his head throbbed from his ordeal. It was too dark for him to notice his vision was blurring, his thought process muddled. He stopped running suddenly, bending over with his hands on his knees, and panting excessively, dizziness overwhelming him. Have to keep going, got to get outta here. The paramedic continued on, much slower now, almost breathlessly, bumping into trees and bushes, feeling his legs growing weak and numb. Exhaustion flooded him, but he fought it with a vengeance. His survival depended on it. Driven by despair, he trudged on clumsily, deeper into the woods, unaware that help had arrived back at the cabin, and that finding him in the darkness would be nearly impossible. The only thing Johnny knew was if Shack found him, he'd be dead. Just keep moving, gotta get outta here, just keep moving he told himself again. He had no sooner finished the thought when his foot got caught up in something. He heard a loud snapping noise, then felt excruciating pain in his lower left leg as he tumbled to the cold, hard ground, hitting his head against a tree stump. Johnny's struggles to remain conscious eluded him and he felt himself drifting off despite the pain and fear consuming his body. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Roy sat inside the cabin, in a chair at a small table in the kitchen, despondently listening to Vince Howard, and another police officer, Mark Sherman, discussing their case and the evidence they had, as well as their plans regarding what to do to find Gage. The other three cops had left a while ago to take the fugitives back to their precinct to be formally charged. Using a CB radio that they had brought with them for communications with the outside world, and also for the purpose of keeping in contact with the crew of Station 51, who had set up Marco's own CB radio inside the station, the paramedic got on the device to inform the men of the current situation regarding Johnny. Everyone was glad that the bank robbers had been apprehended, but could not believe Gage had completely disappeared. It was nearing 4 am and DeSoto didn't think he'd ever felt this useless. His partner was outside in the cold and dampness, possibly injured and bleeding to death, and they couldn't find him. There were unknown acres of forest around the cabin and there was just no way to look for him in the darkness.  He could be in a million different spots. The CB radio inside the small cabin suddenly came to life, with a buzzing and crackling noise, jolting Roy out of his thoughts. He was closest to it, and picked it up, instantly recognizing the voice on the other end. "DeSoto 51, this is Kelly 51. Do you copy?" he heard his Irish firefighting friend ask. "Ten-four, Kelly 51, this is DeSoto, go ahead." "Look, I couldn't sleep, and Cap said if I found someone to come in and cover the rest of the shift, I could leave. I managed to do more than that, Roy. Samson is gonna come in and work the four hours overtime, and I called a bunch of the guys from C-shift and they're all gonna come up to the cabin to help in the search for Johnny. I just need directions on exactly where it is. Over." DeSoto was deeply moved. He looked over to the cops, who were sitting on a ratty, old couch in the cabin's tiny living room, hesitating before answering his crewmate on the CB. "Vince, it's Chet Kelly, you know, from the station. It's okay if he comes out here with some volunteers to help in the search for Johnny, isn't it?" Vince smiled. "Yeah, that's good, we can use all the help we can get." Getting a few more details, and advising the firefighter to bring certain items he believed they might require for first aid, Roy quickly gave Kelly the directions and ended their brief conversation, putting the CB mike down on the kitchen table where the unit was set up, and feeling somewhat more optimistic. It would take Chet close to forty minutes to drive out, and he knew the other five volunteers would be there as soon as possible. He looked over at the two police officers, worry still apparent on his face, but with a new found hope. "Vince, I was thinking it might save some time if we went out now for awhile and looked. This way, when everyone else gets here, we'll have covered more area..." Officer Sherman looked at the paramedic, doubtfully, and interrupted him. "Not a chance. It's still dark out. We'll have to wait at least an hour before daylight gets here and we'll be able to see." Roy grimaced, his frustration and exhaustion suddenly getting the better of him. He didn't want to wait any longer, he wanted to get out there now. He'd waited nearly twelve hours now to see his partner and it was really playing on his nerves. Roy's last vision of Johnny had been when he had been brought out of the bank, tied up and blindfolded, led away by the bank robbers who'd had their guns held tightly against him. The senior medic glanced up at the policeman, his lips drawn tight, his impatience obviously growing thin. "Look, we should get out there now! Johnny is out there, somewhere, it's freezing and God only knows how badly injured he is! He needs to be found immediately and he's going to need medical care!" Vince walked over to Roy, sympathetically placing a hand on the uptight paramedic's shoulder. "Roy, you know if we go out there right now, in the pitch black darkness, that the chances of finding him are slim to none. We've already tried. But we couldn't find him. We don't know the woods out there. We don't want to become casualties ourselves. Unfortunately, Mark is right. There is nothing we can do until daylight comes." "Yeah, Roy, we don't even know if Gage is even out there in the woods. He might have gotten to the road and gotten picked up. Someone might have taken him for medical help. Or, he could be hiding out a few hundred feet away, but either way, it's just too dark to find him. I think when your friends get here, we'll leave one of them here inside the cabin, to be available, just in case Gage makes his way back here." DeSoto shook his head. "Johnny won't come back here. He doesn't know the bank robbers have been caught. If he did, then he'd have known we were here and he would have come back by now. Unless, he's far too injured to move...God, he could be outside only a couple of yards away!" Roy groaned. He picked up the mike of the CB radio and absentmindedly played with it, outlining the form of it with his index finger. "No, my guess is he's much farther away than that. We've searched all of the immediate area to the back of the cabin. Look, your buddy Chet should be here soon, and the other volunteers too. We'll find him, Roy, don't you worry, we'll find him," Officer Sherman spoke encouragingly, but Roy was too exhausted and the despondency reached out to consume him all over again. He hated the feelings of helplessness and anxiety over Johnny's situation. The not knowing part was also killing him. The paramedic felt the weariness overwhelming him. He got up from the chair he had plopped down in, walked over to the kitchen of the cabin and searched around, finally finding a coffee pot and some coffee. He put it on, standing next to the counter and rubbing his aching eyes while he waited for it to brew. DeSoto wondered silently to himself, not for the first time that day, if he would ever see his best friend alive again. After pouring the two police officers a cup of the hot liquid, as well as one for himself, he walked dejectedly over to a window, watching as he saw headlights approaching. Chet had certainly made good time in getting there. Roy noticed the darkness fading somewhat and looked out at the sky. The stars were disappearing and the sun was just beginning to rise overtop of the mountains in the distance. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* The young paramedic sat at Station 51, in the dayroom with the rest of the crew. They were joking and laughing and he felt quite happy and content. The next instance, he was in the line-up at his bank, an undeniable terror gripping at his soul as he saw three armed men rush through the doors and start shooting at everyone that they could. He gasped as he watched people falling to the ground all around him, wondering when he would be hit. But for some unknown reason, they didn't shoot him. Panic stricken, Johnny began to run away from them. He got as far as the front door, but as he reached out to pull it open, found it would not budge. He could see Roy outside waving to him, telling him to get in the line-up and hurry it up. Johnny was always taking so long, always making Roy wait for him. He could see DeSoto was getting very angry, but Johnny was pounding on the window, calling to him in a panic for help. Roy seemed to not hear him, and turning his back from Johnny, got in the squad and drove away. Johnny saw one of the robbers raise a gun and shoot it. He felt the intense force of the bullet as it hit his chest and he fell to the ground, bleeding, trembling, and sobbing with fear, wondering where his partner was, knowing he was close to death... Johnny gasped lightly as he woke up. He was shivering violently with cold, and fear reached out to strangle him, causing his heart to beat wildly. For a moment, he was disoriented and forgot that he was high in the San Gabriel Mountains, desperately trying to run from the bank robbers who had kidnapped him. But the reality of his situation came back to him in an instant and he realized he had to get up off the ground and continue to run before they found and killed him. His first attempt to rise to his feet failed. He felt an intense pull on his left leg and fell back down, unable to move. The incredible pain jarred him again and he cried out in hopeless despair. Gage tried once more to get up, but the pull on his leg forced him back. Knowing he was going no where, he glanced up at the sky, becoming panic stricken all over again, as he realized daylight was quickly approaching. E!*E!*E!*E!*E!* Roy, Vince, Chet and Station 51's off-duty C-shift paramedic, Charlie Baker, scoured the woods, searching for any sign of Johnny. Charlie had brought his dog, Flash, with him and knowing this, Chet had gone into Gage's locker back at the station and had brought with him the plaid brown shirt that Johnny had worn into work the previous day, so that they could give the dog something with which to pick up the missing paramedic's scent.  The other off-duty firefighters had joined up with Officer Sherman and had traveled in the opposite direction in their efforts to find Johnny. They had handy talkies with them, able to keep in contact with each other, should the need arise. As they trudged through the forest, Roy came to the quick realization that there was no way they could have conducted any type of search for his partner during the night. There was endless acres of vast, wooded area around them, and it would have been totally impossible for them to see much of anything. He was worried, and just hoped that they would find Johnny alive, but he, as well as the other men with him, did not hold out much faith that that would be the case. Each of them silently believed that they were looking for a corpse. It was slow going as Flash sniffed and stopped, sniffed and stopped. They went forward, blindly, hoping that it would not be long before the young paramedic was discovered. They had traveled and completely searched an area of approximately a half mile south of the cabin. Vince wearily plopped himself down on a log and looked up at the other three men. He took a drink of water from a canteen that Chet had brought up with him and offered it to Charlie. "Look, guys, I'm exhausted. Let's stop for a few minutes," the police sergeant replied in a low, tired voice. Roy, too, was operating now on no sleep and he was feeling the weakness also consuming him. But he didn't want to stop until they found Johnny, in no matter what condition. He took a sip of water as Charlie handed him the canteen and looked down at Vince. "We gotta keep going, Vince. He's out here, I know he is. And we're gonna find him," DeSoto replied, huskily. "Roy, you're beyond exhausted. We've been out here now for nearly three hours. We need to take a small break," Charlie spoke up. He pulled the backpack he was carrying off and opening it up, brought out a bunch of sandwiches and some fruit. The hungry, tired men accepted it gratefully and for a few minutes were silent while they ate. Chet gave his crust to Flash, who swallowed it down. The stocky firefighter then grabbed the handy talkie from Vince. "Team 2, this is Kelly from Team 1. Any clues or signs?" Chet spoke into the device. "Negative. What about you?" came the reply. "Negative. Let us know the minute you find something," Chet said. "Ten-four, Kelly, you too." The four men finished eating and separating approximately twenty feet away from each other, continued to sweep the forest. They looked for any broken brush, or footprints, blood or anything else that they could identify with Johnny and would tell them that he had traveled this way. Several minutes later, they were startled when Flash began to bark, for the first time since they had started. The men looked at the dog, hopefully, then at Charlie. Station 51's C-shift paramedic let go of the leash he was holding and allowed the black labrador to run. The animal immediately took off out into the woods,