Too Close to Home by Anotherjaneway The ball smashed into the far wall with blazing force and ricocheted back to hit John hard, in the ribs. He looked skyward. "Oh no! It was good! It was good. You win the match, Roy." Roy jogged across the floor and retrieved the racquetball, pulling a sweaty terry cloth band off of his forehead to scratch an itch. "Are you sure you don't want to go for a rematch?" "I'm POSITIVE!" John said as he wiped his streaming face. "Roy, you've got an edge over me here, you realize? After all, you were THE Ojai College All State Champ in Racquetball for three consecutive years. No, I don't want another game. I'm giving up while I still have some dignity left." Roy DeSoto laughed, "Yeah, I guess I haven't lost the knack yet." "I'll say you haven't." John's mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk. On the way off the court, he shoved forcefully through the double doors off the court leaving Roy to clumsily block their rebound. He chuckled at Roy's cry of muffled surprise. "Ooff!  Almost got me but not quite good enough, buddy. Try harder next time. Anyway." Roy said, toweling off, "Do you want to play again next week?" John arched both eyebrows. "What?! And get humiliated again?! Oh yeah, I really love getting badly beaten everytime I come to the club. I pay good money for membership, just like you do. So I should enjoy the emotional benefits too, like winning." he hinted. Roy slung his towel over his shoulders. "Quit being such a sore loser, Johnny." "Listen, Roy, I've been coming here for the better part of .what? Three months? And I've never even come close to winning a racquet ball game over you. It gets kind of degrading after a while." "Now I wouldn't say that." Roy reasoned once they were in the locker room, They peeled off white T-polos and shorts and grabbed shampoo bottles and more pastel towels from a stack set aside on a rack. "How about in swimming? You finish your twenty four laps in nothing flat and plow me under doing it, too." "Yeah." John said, reflecting back on a gentler note, "I guess you're right." "There you go, Johnny Gage. You DO excel in something better than I do." Roy smiled. He good naturedly took a towel crack to the back of his head. "Let's go shower up or we'll be late for work." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Fifteen minutes later, the two came out of the club and headed for Gage's jeep. John suddenly laughed to himself as he shut the car's door. "What's so funny?" Roy grinned. "I head you and Joanne are finally cutting loose for a while and are going an escape to the San Bernadino mountains next month." "SHhhhhh! Not so loud!" Roy exclaimed, as John backed them out of their parking space, "You remember what happened last year. The subpump failed and flooded the basement. The year before that it was the dog, going into labor two minutes after we finish packing the car. We missed our flight, as you recall. Please,. Keep quiet on this thing until after I'm gone. I don't want anything to jinx us and have something go wrong again." "Well, you know. They say bad luck comes in threes. and you're only on your second year for cancelled vacations." John grinned evilly. Roy shot him a look that could kill. John glanced back at the road, "Easy! Ok., man. Don't get so worked up about it. Nothing will happen. All right, no more. I won't even mention or THINK about your leaving on ".he mouthed the word vacation, ".again." Satisfied, Roy concentrated on combing his hair. But just as they pulled into the back lot of the Station, a sudden thought entered his head. "Hey, Roy.?" "Yeah?" John bent close in a stage whisper. "Where are you stashing the kids?" Roy glared at him in utter disbelief. He rolled his eyes heavenward. -=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--= In the locker room, the gang was engaged in their usual prying into yet another one of Chet Kelly's brainstorms while they got into their uniforms. "No, really, Cap." Chet exclaimed. "This is a really good deal. I just know it is. Listen." he gestured pointedly. "That does it." Marco said, closing his locker door with a slam, "I have another one of those feelings again, guys." Marco moaned, "Look out! guard your pocketbooks with your lives!" The gang erupted in laughs. "Very funny, Lopez." Chet frowned, "Maybe you should listen to this, too." Marco cut Chet off, "Uh uh. No way." He gestured to the guys for support. The guys chimed in. The room chorused negatives. "You got to be kidding, Chet." "Even my mother knows better than to play one of your deals." Mike Stoker piped up. "Nope, not a chance." Marco agreed. Cap remained silent. "Please?!. Guys. " Chet said over the din. "Just listen for two seconds. What harm can come for just listening to a guy, huh? Do I have a say?" There followed a long silence. Cap's eyes met each of his men's eyes in turn. "Guys,. how about it?" he toned evenly. He encountered no opposition so he took a deep breath and gave a small nod. "Go for it Kelly." Chet hooted and, rubbing his hands together, flashed an open for business grin. "Ooo! You're gonna love this deal!" Someone growled, "All right. Spill it, Chet." Chet said, "I'm coming to it. I'm coming to it. Just hang on. Geez. Well, you're not going to believe this but I have a friend who's uncle is interested in buying Conquistador Cielo's first filly, Cielo Madre. Remember her?" All heads shook no. "The only filly to ever win a Preakness Stakes by fifteen lengths!" "What about the Preakness Stakes?" A voice interrupted. Chet broke off his idea pitching as Roy and Johnny walked through the door. "Oh, hi, Gage,  DeSoto." Chet said, " As I was saying before,, this uncle is." "Get on with it!" Mike prompted. His stomach growled audibly. "Yeah,." Marco agreed, "I'm getting hungry for breakfast. And it's your turn to cook, Kelly." "O.K., you two turkeys, pipe down. I'm getting there. Just. just hold your pants on." Marco shot a glance downward and grabbed his suspenders as if they had suddenly gave way. Everyone cracked up. Even Chet laughed, in spite of himself. Much encouraged, he went on, "I got a phone call a few days ago and he asked if I wanted to invest in Cielo. I said, Sure. after an hour's research on her history. Did you know she breezed the mile and three quarters in just under 1:52 flat? Anyway. I told Unc that maybe you guys'd be interested in investing with me in the deal and to hold off the purchase til this afternoon after I gotten an answer from you all. Are you in?" Silence. "Fellas!" Chet agonized. "Well,." Roy broke the silence, "Wait a minute there, Chet, ah, are you absolutely certain that this filly is real and legit?" Chet beamed and let loose a kick at his locker's door. It swung open smoothly to reveal a sleek, red horse in racing gear hung in a frame propped up on Kelly's shelf. The gang crowded round. John had been quiet throughout the entire exchange. Now, he eyed the photograph critically. "What about her pedigree?" "Yeah." the guys agreed. Chet smiled coolly and pulled out a bundle of papers. "Here you go." he said, handing out xerox copies of it to eager hands. ".And here's the contract of agreement I've brought for scrutiny. You fellas can uh,, co-sign with me if you want to." Roy cleared his throat loudly and got everyone's attention. "Chet, uh. Where's this filly going to stay? I mean, it costs a lot of money to feed and train a thoroughbred. You'll need a good stable, trailer to haul her, a vet, and a ferrier. Who's going to cover those costs?" "No problem, Roy, my man. My sister's got a ranch in Rock Creek Canyon. Remember? And her hired hand is a retired veterinary and an honored race horse trainer who'll foot the bill for feed and board until Cielo's first purses roll in." "Hey. hey." Marco said, "Sounds like the first real deal I've heard yet from you Chet. Sounds like a golden opportunity, Roy, I'm in!" He snatched the contract away from Chet and signed it with a flourish with the pen Kelly gave him. "If I strike it rich, maybe I can take mamma to Hawaii." "Rich?" "Sounds good to me." "O.K." "Oh boy!"  The room was quickly filled with the sounds of "me toos" and pen scribbling. Roy was the last to get the contract. He waited, pen over paper over the signature line. "How much money Chet, did you just con out of these guys just now? Can you tell me that?" Chet looked distinctly uncomfortable. He answered in a meek tone, "Ah, only *cough* .$425 dollars a piece. But fellas--!"  When they started to growl. Roy through up his hands, "That's precisely my point. There's always a deposit first. This is TOO easy guys. Think about it. Do people really buy racehorses everyday of the week? I think you guys got suckered, no offense, Chet, on this deal." Roy turned, dropping the pen without signing. John gripped his arm, "Just wait a minute. you mean you aren't going to do this. It's a sweet deal, Roy." Roy sighed an incredulous sigh. "If you've never even seen the filly yourself, how do you know what her temperament is like, huh? Do you know how she'll react on the track after being coached by strange people.?" He pointed to Chet. "Oh. Ha. ha." Kelly protested. Roy went on. "Also, that Preakness she was entered in was a fluke. Three of the favorites were scratched for influenza and the rest of the field was a bunch of green colts. Those odds weren't all that hard to beat. And those fast workout times really don't tell us much about her ability because the element of competition with a full sized field is something Cielo Madre's never faced!" Roy's words fell on deaf ears. The whole gang was clustered around Chet Kelly as he proudly displayed the computer statistics on his filly and her workout times. Roy threw up his hands in the air and finished changing. John tapped Chet on the shoulder, "Hey Chet? When does the deal get underway?" Chet's eyes gleamed. "Today. After my sister buys her, we'll trailer her off to the ranch where the trainer will work her out. This afternoon! Man, I can hardly wait to ease myself onto that saddle! She'll be like a dream, I'm sure." "Hey" Marco crowed, "That's right. It's your day off today." Chet was very pleased with himself. "Yep. Moreno from 36's has to make up some hours so he's covering for me." John regarded Chet thoughtfully, "Hey, Kelly.  Have you ever ridden a racing thoroughbred before?" Chet turned to him collecting checks and contracts from the gang. "Hmm? Oh, my sister Marj and me grew up on horses. I've ridden ever since I was a kid. Well, gotta run or I'll miss Unc at the auction! I'll call ya all after the first workout.!" "See ya, man." John waved. Chet breezed for the parking lot. The rest filed into the kitchen where 36's Joachim Moreno had already  spread out eggs, bacon and toast. Mike Stoker said, "This is our lucky day. Not only do we get a chance to get rich on a racehorse, we don't have to suffer Chet Kelly's cooking." John chuckled, "Don't say that in front of Kelly when he's here or we'll die for sure next time from his OVER burning food. I'm almost getting used to his sushi slash bacon." All the guys laughed. John followed Marco, setting plates at the table and silverware. He handed Roy his blue and white paisley mug of coffee. "You don't know what you are missing Roy." and he stuffed a whole muffin into his mouth, sitting down. Under his breath, Roy replied as he studied the newspaper, "Oh, yes I do." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= At Rampart General, in Treatment Room Three, a man sat impatiently on a gurney. A prim nurse adjusted the flow of his IV's flow rate and marked it in her chart. He watched her dispassionately. At last, he grumbled, "Is Brackett coming soon? I know he's on today." The nurse blinked, "I suppose he knows about you and is on his way to see you right now, Ron." "Mike!" he snapped and immediately regretted the action. "Oww!" He slumped back onto the table seriously considering biting his own left foot off at the ankle. The RN deftly slipped up the side rail on the bed as he reeled  about. "What did you do that for? I'm not going to fall out." he frowned. "That's what they all say." she burbled sweetly and adjusted his covers. The man slapped at her hand. She stepped back, shaken. Finally, Brackett really did open the ready door. He was met with a complete surprise. He did a double take folding his arms across his elbows in amusement. The crabby man he had heard bellowing out in the hall, was Dr. Morton.!   "Well. well. well. Look at this." he chided sympathetically. He took in Mike's angry expression and one very sore, air splinted ankle. "What has fate brought your way today, Mike?" he delivered casually. "Don't ask, Kelly. I don't want to talk about it." Morton grumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. Brackett simply grinned, "Fine. I'll get your story from her. Please read the run sheet to me, Nurse." "Yes sir. Apparently, doctor,. the young patient--" "Young patient?  Young patient! Let me inform you, Nurse,   Nurse." he  snapped his fingers irritably at her, "Your name!" Morton said gruffly. Startled, the RN blurted out, "Evans!. Carol Evans." "Evans." Morton snapped, "I inform you now , since you are new to this floor and this hospital. I am on the resident staff in this department and I expect to be called by my full name DR. Morton at all times if you don't mind." he said dangerously. "Yes sir! I.I mean, doctor uh?" "Morton!" he boomed. "Dr. Morton!" She stifled sudden tears. Finishing up the BP reading he was getting on Mike, Brackett frowned when he saw the tears on his nurse's face. He had missed something truly harsh he guessed. "Mike, lie down. "But it wasn't hard to figure out just what had occurred while his ears had been blocked by his stethoscope. "What?" the young black doctor said, still fuming." But I have to tell this newbie nurse that." "Mike. For all practical purposes, she outranks you, for you ARE a patient now. And as your acting physician, I ORDER you to be quiet and stop harassing Miss Carol." he said, pushing his voice louder than Mike's, "You'll aggravate your condition.! Already, your BP's a little high." he shook himself, "Nurse, clean out that cut on his forehead, will you please?" "With pleasure, doctor." she said vehemently and she bustled some peroxide into a sterile basin. Dr. Morton glared at Brackett but he complied and laid himself flat and off of his elbows. He let out his breath in a hiss. "I'm sorry, Kel. I really don't need to be here. Just get me a Band-Aid and some ice and I'll be just f-- Owwww!!"  Mike swatted at the cotton dabbing his head. "Ah, ah ah." Brackett warned, waggling a finger. Morton snorted. He sat on his hands dutifully. "Now." Brackett began, thoroughly amused at Morton's sour social mode. He began by beginning an assessment, checking out his injured co-worker's bruised body by probing belly and tapping on his ribcage for percussion sounds.  "Tell me what happened, Miss Evans. Since our patient would rather not disclose any information at this time. Tell me what Mr. Morton told you before he got surly." "That's Doctor Morton. Not Mr. Mort--" Kel silenced Mike with a gesture and a challenging look that bordered on serious professional discipline. "Go ahead, nurse." Confident under Brackett's protection, she relayed the details. "Well, about an hour ago, the paramedics brought in the PATIENT with a probable left fractured ankle due to a fall. He was found unconscious with no indication of spinal or neck injury. He promptly regained consciousness with a sternal rub and complained of soreness to his head as well as that ankle. Patient remarked also that he had fallen on his b--" "Wait just a damned minute here.!" Morton interrupted, sitting up. Brackett pushed him down again with a practiced hand, not caring about the pain Morton received from the jarring. "Go on, please." he said to Evans. "On his pos-ter-ior, sir. There were no apparent injuries I could see other than the bruising on those three areas. He was in considerable discomfort in that last region but his vitals are  stable and intact. I checked." she said acidly. "You better mean, blood pressure, lady!" Morton spat. "Of course, mister. What else would I mean?" she said levelly. Mike reddened, caught off guard. Brackett choked down a laugh, "ahh, from what distance did he fall?" He pretended to be busy writing in his chart. "According to the paramedics., Mr. Morton slipped on a peel--" "Newspaper!!" "BANANA peel and fell down eleven stairs, about nine feet, onto a bark path. The stairs themselves were wooden, Doctor. He  refused a pain hypo at the scene." "Thank you , nurse. You may go. "Brackett said. "Anytime, sir." she fairly fled out of the room, wiping away smeared mascara and some of her tears. Soon, the two doctors were alone. Morton propped himself up on an elbow, highly miffed. "Did ya have to do that?" he asked of his colleague. "Of course!" Brackett yelled back. "You were acting like one of those "gomers" you hate so much." Morton's eyebrows retreated into his hairline in surprise. His anger melted away. "I was?  Hmmm. "G-et.O-ut.of  M-y E-mergency.R-oom; GOMER." Morton reflected. "Nice acronym. Sorry. I guess I was a bit of a gomer to her." "Umm hmmm." Kel grunted in affirmation, holding Morton's splinted foot in his hands. He studied the blood oozing there. He was still visibly charged about  Morton's unprofessionalism and rudeness. Morton watched him and said at last, "You know. I'm really sorry I treated her like that. I just don't like pain, nor being helpless like this at my own work place." Brackett grunted again, shining his pen light into Mike's eyes. "Your pupils are equal and reactive. Guess that was just plain natural surliness. Instead of cranial complications, DOCTOR." Morton actually looked cowed. "Follow my finger." And Kel watched how Mike's eyes tracked the pattern he drew into the air. "Good." He turned his attention back to the clear plastic splinted ankle. Gently, he tested its range of motion. Mike looked away, trying not to flinch. Brackett arched an eyebrow, "You're sure you don't want a pain med?  You don't have a concussion from what I see. The medics were right about that." This brought a stormy battering of protest from the prone man, he bolted upright, brandishing a finger in Kel's face about to let loose some blistering thoughts. Kel folded his arms levelly. "I'm ordering one. You're lips and gums are already two shades lighter than they were five seconds ago." Morton sputtered on, but stifled himself from saying any true words. Brackett moved to the phone and made a call. A second later, the double doors parted, revealing Nurse Evans, brandishing a hypo and a cotton wad for viewing. "Into the upper gluteus maximus Nurse, if you wouldn't mind." Kelly said, smiling at her and winking. Morton choked, "Kel, you're not serious. I'm one solid hematoma down there." Brackett made for the door coolly with his chart, not looking nor answering back. "Kel, wait! No." Morton said, "You know damned well I can get that med through my IV line. Please. I'll be more polite! I promise. Kel, don't go! Kel!!  OWW!!!!" And the swinging doors snapped out the sound as Brackett left the room. Dixie McCall turned toward the blood curdling scream curiously, as Brackett handed  her the chart, "Just desserts." he remarked, and left. Dix puzzled over that comment a moment until she read the name on the  face sheet. It took her only moments to put two and two together as it was she who handed Evans some tissue just a bit earlier as she emerged from that treatment room.  It took five minutes for Dixie to stop laughing and compose herself enough to return to her head nurse desk station. -=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Dispatch clicked a two toned alarm for station 51. It brought everyone on the run into the garage. "Station 51. Truck 127, Battalion 14, Unknown type rescue. At the Everest Stadium Complex. 4000 Kenwood Boulevard Cross street, Marquette. 4000 Kenwood Blvd. /c/  Marquette. Manager requests assistance to the second level tiers grandstand, east side. Time out 08:47." Helmets and jackets pulled on as Cap acknowledged their running status, "Station 51, 10-4, KMG 365." Moments later, the squad rolled down the driveway closely followed by the  engine. Their reds activated and air horns blasts cleared the highway of traffic. They sped towards their destination. Brakes screeched to a halt before a high tech modern building. A very hassled man in an orange shirt and tie ran outside to meet them. "What's the problem here?" Cap said as he stepped out of the cab of the engine, "Is there a gas leak?" "No sir, .ah, nothing like that. I'm one of the janitors. You people  are going to have to come with me and see for yourselves. The police are rather busy right now." Everyone followed with their gear. Roy and John with their O2, Defib, IV, Splint and Trauma boxes. They kept on their overcoats to save time. Roy looked at John with a what's this gesture. Cap shrugged, mulling over the mystery while he adjusted his walkie talkie to a receiving sending mode with the engine's radio. No one knew what to expect. John Gage was the first onto the second level deck when he hollered, "Look out!!" He promptly kissed dirt. A well aimed beer bottle shattered musically on the brick wall near his face. The glass caught him and he sat up, gloves over his face. Pissed, John yelled aloud. "Ahhghh ahhh!" He sounded more disgusted to Roy than in pain. He ran to him. "Johnny? Are you all right?" He crouched down, pulling Gage's hands away. John's face was streaming red. (Marco winced.) with stale Killians beer.! "Agh!!  *cough* " Johnny shouted, thoroughly grossed out at the sour smell, "This has got to be the worst!" he sputtered. and he spit some of the foulness out of his mouth. "What th--?" Cap scratched his head, looking about. Men and women were fighting in the stands while hoards of police officers tried to stop them in any way possible. he gestured and all of his men slapped down their face shields on their helmets as two more beer bottles, hit the wall near them. Roy rocked back on his heels, visibly relieved. "Here." he began "You'll need this." he clapped down John's helmet shield. Gage grinned sardonically, "A little late wouldn't you say?" A cry ripped the air. A new voice shouted, "Watch out!!! Incoming!!" CRASHHH!! A vending machine narrowly missed flattening Mike Stoker, whose log roll out of the way was barely executed in time. The owner of the voice mounted the grandstand stairs and observed all the firemen lying belly down, with their gloves over their necks, staring at the machine, which had nearly landed on their engineer. He cleared his throat, chiding them. It was Vince, with a handcuffed gang member. Everybody clambered to their feet. Vince chuckled, "Some war zone huh? Stick around boys. The fun is just beginning." Vince dragged his charge behind him and stopped before Lopez. He rapped a knuckle on the Plexiglas shield over Marco's face. "Wish I had one of those." Pputth! A rheumy glob of spittle caught Vince in the eye just then. He wiped it away with a glove, shooting an acid look at the spit's source. The Cuban suspect grinned dangerously and chewed his tobacco some more. "He might be your first victim,, fellas!!" Vince exploded. He pushed the kid ahead of himself, none too gently. "Come on!!: They disappeared noisily through the gateway. Cap made a small noise in the back of his throat. "Why me?" Vince's partner made the top stair. John and Roy approached him cautiously, widely avoiding another handcuffed thug in tow. "Blake." John asked, "How did all this get started?" Roy could only gape at the melee  around them. "It appears one gang leader got insulted by a rival gang leader's girl. He slapped her. Her boyfriend then slapped the gang leader. Then."  And he threw up his hands dramatically. "The rest is history in the making! yes , folks. An instant all nighter for half the police force in LA county. Have fun!!" He, too disappeared to the street but soon returned with fifty handcuffs minus the prisoner. The cop regarded the dumbstruck  firemen wanly. "They all met here for a rumble,, to 'Even the score.' A pause. "Hey, listen. We're having a hard time subduing this thing, Captain Stanley." Blake admitted. "Do you have a suggestion on how to go about doing that? As you can see, physical restraint has no effect." A huge brute was pounding the face of another man to a pulp nearby. A county cop vaulted onto the aggressor's back, confident his action would distract the fighters. Oh it did, all right. Both combatants hefted the hapless cop over their heads and heaved. The young officer sailed over rows of seats to thunk hollowly on top of a closed concession stand. The sound of the impact could be heard even over the noise of the crowd riot below. Roy winced openly and the two paramedics brought their gear over to the dazed rookie cop while Blake gave them some cover with a riot tear gas rifle and some mild threats to anyone who came near them. Cap looked around and gathered recently interrupted thoughts. He bit his lip and made a decision, "Ah, Marco?" "Cap?" "How far would you say we are from the engine?" "About 400 yards." "Terrific. That's a short enough distance. Do me a favor huh? Would you and Mike rig two inch and a half's and bring them up here? And turn on the refrigeration unit!" he shouted after his men's retreating backs. Blake frowned, "What for?" "Pest control." Blake split a gut at that. The nearby Battalion chief strode through the doors and calmly surveyed utter chaos. He radioed out. "LA, this is Chief Blachek. Dispatch three more additional fire units and send six ambulances to our location. We're gonna need them." "This is LA. 10-4, Battalion." A short distance away, Roy and John checked out the unfortunate police man they had just stokes rigged to the ground. "Did you see how far that stinking offal threw me?! I'll tell ya. NO ONE assaults a law enforcement officer and gets away with it.!" The kid ripped out of his stokes straps and rose to his feet shakily, shedding shards and a BP cuff. He went for the grappling leaders. Roy and John dove, each grabbing for a leg and tackled the hot headed kid cop back to the ground. Johnny shouted as he struggled to hold his patient still, "Come on now! Do you really want to get MASSACRED? Just stay put and let us do our job." He readjusted his helmet out of his eyes. It slipped down again on the slick beer in Gage's hair. He finally gripped the whole thing in his hands and flung it off to Blake. The zit faced kid rolled over painfully, facing his two paramedics. He gave way into a cute fit of temper. "Fine!! I'll stop! But just how do you suppose we'll stop them?" Roy simply smiled and pointed toward the infield. "Just watch." Several teams of firefighters appeared in a ring around the riot. They spouted jets of cold ice water onto the crowds below. Whole gang clusters tumbled about like nine pins. Vince's voice floated around the stadium PA system. "People! Listen up! "Marco's voice followed his words a second after with a translation in Spanish. "You're all under arrest! Put down your weapons and surrender to the police officer nearest you. Comply instantly, or get another free bath, compliments of the LA county fire department." Knives, chains and broken bottles dropped to the turf. Droves of cops herded the worst offenders via handcuffs to paddywagons peppering the infield. John and Roy finished assessing the dazed rookie and began to gather up their gear. "Well outside of a few scrapes and contusions. You're in pretty fair shape." Roy said. John added, "You should schedule an appointment with your family physician just to be on the safe side if you begin to feel shaky again, all right?" The cop was sheepish. "Thanks, guys. I'm sorry if I caused so much trouble." he said, wincing as Roy put a dressing onto a minor cut on his temple. He stood as soon as Roy finished, offering his hand to John and Roy. They shook it, "Don't worry about it. Take it easy now, you hear?" The young kid waved, heading down towards the field to help in the round up. "Right." Suddenly, a large woman broke away from her officer right behind the firemen. She lunged at another nearby rival who was also handcuffed and being led away. The force of the blow bowled the man over the rail of the tiers. Restrained, he failed to counterbalance and save himself from falling. He landed thirty feet down  onto the Astroturf below. The woman was furious. "You gringo!! Come back here!!" she screeched at the fallen man. Four cops led the struggling Cuban away as John and Roy pelted down the steps to the field. Mike Stoker was right behind them. John smelled blood but felt for a carotid. He looked up into the grandstand. "Cap! Get a backboard and some sandbags!. He's going to need a C-Collar!" Marco yelled down to him. "I'll get the O2!" Roy made sure the man had an open airway by pulling up his jaw carefully without moving anything else, neck or spine. Mike took over the hold. John began to check for fractures at the man's head and worked his way down quickly. The cop, who had been apprehending the gang member, frowned, "You mean he's still alive?" He didn't bother to conceal his racial disdain at all. "I'll just bet that spoiled your day.!" John spat with open sarcasm. Gage tried to get the leather coat off to expose a chest wound but the cuffs interfered. "Would you mind?? " he prompted to the hate filled cop. The officer stiffened up "No way! This guy's the ring leader!" Beneath the paramedics hands, the man heaved, choking on blood. His ragged breathing cut off abruptly. John placed a hand on his chest. "Roy? He quit breathing." John frantically set up a suction tube and turned it on, passing it over to his partner. DeSoto took it, but soon, shook his head. He couldn't see anything in the way inside the man's mouth as he probed with the hissing tube, even with Mike helping him expose the area to light. "He must be obstructed deeper down, Johnny." "I got it." Gage straddled the leader's legs but couldn't get a firm positioning to  start a Heimlich attempt, because of the cuffed and hobble chained limbs in his way over the man's stomach. John looked up angrily at  the cop who just watched him struggle. "Get over here! What's  the matter with you?! These damned chains are in my way! Do you want him to die?" The gang leader's skin started to purple with hypoxia. "He's not going anywhere, man!!" Roy shouted at the stubborn cop. Running footsteps approached. "Release him!! Do it , officer!" It was Vince. The other cop hesitated. "NOW!!" He didn't move. Vince ripped the keys away from the officer's belt and freed the  choking man's cuffs being careful not to jar him around. Johnny was able to clear the man's airway seconds after he was able to reach his abdomen. He forced out the obstruction with a few well placed thrusts and felt the blocked off lungs finally give way into a release of air moments later. Roy's suction tube did the rest of the work, removing teeth and blood from the man's torn mouth and throat. Marco arrived, running, with the O2 apparatus, handing off a demand valve mask to Stoker. The man began to gasp once again. He drew in Mike's forced oxygen through the respirator well without much assisted positive pressure from Stoker. His face and hands began to pink up  again. Roy and John sighed in relief. The crisis was over. "That was too close, Vince. He almost killed this man!" Roy exclaimed, pointing a finger at the prejudiced cop. But that was all he had time to say before the task at hand drew him to work quickly to preserve his patient's life. Vince whirled into the face of the stubborn cop. "I'll deal with you later lieutenant!" The lieutenant's jaw tightened. He said nothing. He turned and walked away. Vince turned his back on him. "Need help?" he asked the two medics, his voice toned quietly as he kneeled beside them. "Yeah." Roy said, "Could you support his head? Mike can't do that ventilating him. We've got to roll him onto the backboard." "Right." He did so, and soon, the Station 51 crew had the unconscious man safely immobilized. Cap set up the biophone while Roy examined the man's pupils. John got a set of vitals and phoned it in to Rampart. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, do you read?" ---------------------------- At the substation, a red light began to flash. Dixie set aside her chart and entered the glass enclosed ready room. She acknowledged the call, hitting a toggle switch. "Unit calling in, please repeat." "Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have a male, approximately twenty four to twenty five years of age. He took a fall from the second tier of a stadium box. I'd say he fell about twenty eight feet onto the Astroturf field. He's unconscious. He has multiple fractures of both arms and five ribs along his left side. Both limbs are profusing well. He had an airway obstruction. Now breathing on his own. Victim has been immobilized, C and lumbar spine, and is on 15 liters of O2. Vitals are: BP 68 over 42, respirations striderous and irregular at ten, assisted. Pulse is thready and weak at 140. Stand by for pupils."  He pointed at Roy who began to relay him the information. "Standing by, 51." Dix replied. Dr. Brackett walked in. "What do we have?" "51's got a heavy trauma case. A man who fell about thirty feet onto an Astroturf field at the Stadium. It doesn't sound good." Brackett skimmed over Dixie's notes intently while Johnny filled him in. "Rampart. The pupils are responsive but the right one is slightly dilated. There's also evidence of bleeding from both ears. Also, I have noticed a soft spongy region on his lateral left side. There is a wound but it is non penetrating. Rampart. ventilating him is proving somewhat difficult due to mouth injuries. We've already suctioned around 400 cc's bright red blood and dental debris. Request permission to insert an esophageal airway." "Go ahead on the airway, 51. I suspect a tension hemo-pneumothorax due to that flail chest on the left side. What kind of breath sounds do you note?" Brackett asked. Roy listened to the man's breathing carefully with a stethoscope while John intubated the man. Roy picked up the phone and watched as Mike connected the demand valve to the airway in the man's throat. The bleeding there was slowing somewhat. Marco was getting little if anything into the suction reservoir now. "Rampart, the esophageal airway's in place. I hear bronchial rhonchi on the right side. Absent breath sounds on the left." "10-4 , 51. Start two large bore IVs, both 1000 cc Normal Saline and run wide open. Run in 500 cc's then continue TKO. Apply a five pound weight to the victim's left side and reevaluate breath sounds." "10-4. Two large bore IV's 1000cc NS, One to 500 cc, then TKO. Applying an immobilizing sandbag now." DeSoto reaffirmed. Marco got a sandbag from the stokes and taped it right over the broken section of ribs on the man's chest. Roy checked out his lungs once more once it had been secured and smiled. He picked up the phone. "Rampart, breath sounds are now present on the left side. Victim's color is improving." Brackett sighed visibly. Dixie echoed. John had finished starting the IV's and handed them up to a pair of waiting hands. "10-4, 51. Uh. Draw a red top for a type and cross. Continue to assist ventilating and transport as soon as possible. Keep your patient's head elevated for that possible skull fracture and splint any additional dislocation breaks you find." Kelly said. "Give me another set of vitals and send me a strip once you're en route." "Ten four, Rampart. Our ETA's twenty minutes." Roy concluded. Vince watched all of this in amazement. "That trick with the sandbag." he said to Cap. "How did that help him? I mean, who'd put a weight on someone's chest with broken ribs and all?" Marco stood after helping load up the gang member onto the ambulance attendant's gurney and covering him up. "The guy couldn't breathe well because most of the ribs on that side were caved in. Every time he breathed out, that area would push in and vice versa when he inhaled. His lung couldn't fill easier because of the lack of pressure inside. The sandbag splints the flail section even with the rest of his ribcage, so that lung can expand normally again." "Huh." Vince reflected, "I learned something new today." Ambulance attendants bundled the man, Mike with respirator, backboard and all into their rig, which they had backed into the infield. They secured the stretcher straps while John took over for Mike and maintained the O2 vents with an Ambu bag while they switched tanks to the ambulance's oxygen supply. Mike exited the ambulance. Roy set the biophone and the drug box and defibrillator next to John afterwards and closed the doors. The second attendant remained inside. Finally, he handed off the squad's O2 apparatus back to Cap. who hustled Marco to run it on ahead to put it away for Roy's follow along trip behind the ambulance. "Think he'll make it?" Vince asked Roy. "He'll have a tough time in surgery with all of those fractures. But, hey,, he's a gang leader. You can't be weak willed to do that. I think he'll make it."  Roy slapped on the back doors, sending the ambulance off to speed its way to Rampart through the main gate leading to the outer streets. Vince watched it diminish. Cap ambled up next to him. "Yishhh. What a mess." Vince agreed, "You're telling me. That odd officer boy's gonna face attempted murder one, right behind that gang's woman." he promised. He drew out his handcuffs to go get the cop who hated too much. Cap drew out his walkie talkie and nodded  sadly. "L.A., this is engine 51. All units out hour." "10 -4, 51." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The emergency reception desk was quiet for the middle of the day. John and Roy had cleaned up and they cradled their supplies while nursing coffee cups. Dixie McCall refilled all of their mugs to the very brim. "Whoa!" Johnny said, almost upsetting his loaded box, holding up a hand, "Sounds like you're having just as trying day as we are." he laughed, his mouth crooking up on one side. Roy smiled tightly, "We had a rookie lieutenant who wouldn't uncuff our choking victim. He almost coded right there on us." "Really.?" Dix said, horrified. "How so?" "Johnny here couldn't get good access to clear the obstruction because of all the man's  hobbling body chains. That officer actually left him to turn blue rather than help us." Dix sighed deeply. "Sounds heavy. Are they going to press charges?" "Oh, yeah,," Gage said, "And I'm first to their witness stand by choice, believe me. It's scum like that I can't stand. And he's an officer in the force for Pete's sake. He made our gang leader victim seem like a saint by comparison." She nodded appreciatively, "Yeah. it seems like we BOTH had troubles with authority figures this morning." John blinked, "Authori-- ?  Who'd you tangle with?" "A doctor." "Brackett?" John snorted. "No no no. Nothing like what you're thinking, or with him." She thrust her jaw out with thoughtful amusement. "Maybe you fellas should see for yourselves." "See what?" Roy wondered. Dixie merely crooked a finger, motioning for them to follow her to. "Treatment room three?" John exclaimed. Dixie nodded, "Uh huh. Though you'd better leave your coffee cups out here, or he's bound to tear your throats out getting to it." "Oh?" Roy toned, up a scale. They placed their boxes on the floor and coffee cups in a drinking fountain alcove. "I wonder who?" "SHhh!" Dix turned, a finger to her lips. "You'll wake him." They all peered inside. The room was slightly darkened and a familiar form snored on the table. One foot was in an exterior fixation frame, all wrapped up in fresh, wet dressings. "Morton!" John gasped, grinning from ear to ear. Dix nodded knowingly, "Right from surgery." Two orderlies arose in their chairs in the back of the room looking sleepy and concerned. Dix waved them back reassuring them. "It's just us, guys. Checking in on Mr. Congeniality. Has he stirred yet?" Two heads jerked side to side. "Oh. See ya." she burbled, and closed the door. Roy and John barraged her with questions as they retrieved coffee and supplies. "Hold on guys. First things first. Mike had a little accident this morning on the way to work. Slipped on a banana peel." "What?" John laughed. Dix held up supplicating hands, "It's true, Johnny. Knocked himself cold. Anyhow, did he raise holy heck around here. Drove half my nurses batty. Brackett was nearly out of his skull, too, with him. That ankle had to be set in surgery. Morton said, "Surgery? O.k. Just so long as it's set and put in a cast and I'm out of here, tonight!! I work in a hospital,. I don't need to be here when I'm hurt, too." She gave a high laugh. "Oh! The ego of the man." She was laughing so hard she didn't hear Roy's next question. "And what's that?" she said to him, breathless, sipping her coffee. "Why is he down here?" Roy said, "After recovering in PAR, shouldn't he have gone to one of the floors?" John added another one, "And why were those two guerillas in the treatment room with him?" Dix broke down again, almost falling off her stool with mirth. "Oh! *gasp* His ankle was broken in four places. He needed pins and that fixator to keep the bones straight for healing. Just picture what his reaction will be when he finds out that he has to stay here for twelve days." Roy and John looked at her uncomprehendingly. "Brackett figures that that room is the most shielded place in the whole house. Those two monkeys in there are going to sit on him when he flies to pieces over the news. Don't want to undo all that nice surgery, now do we?" Dix laughed hysterically, streaming tears, all the way down the hallway to her next destination. John and Roy exchanged confused expressions. John emitted a small courtesy laugh. "Heh." His forehead furrowed. Roy piped up, a grin growing, "You mean his temperament has gotten that far out of hand with his under rank staff? Dix was practically crying with glee over his predicament. I mean, I knew Dr. Morton was a little short in the bed side manner department. but,. how do you explain that?" He pointed to the door behind which slumbered the object of their discussion. John shrugged, "I'd hate to see him when he was awake, that's for damned sure." Roy looked at him strangely. "You know. With him dismantling that ankle thing and all." John elaborated. Roy reflected, then they both spoke what just popped in their minds aloud. "We'll send him a card." "We'll send him a card." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Dr. Joe Early had joined the two paramedics in the cafeteria. "You mean to tell me that you all bought this filly, sight unseen, based only on pure conjecture?" John sputtered, expecting a tirade after his answer, "Well, I." Roy grinned evilly, "Johnny did. I didn't." And he forked a bite of his salad, chewing enthusiastically, letting his partner sink or swim. Early smiled. "Good for you! Want some more coffee?" John blinked. He stopped cringing. "Ah yeah. Sure. thanks." He leaned forward, watching the doctor pour some into his mug. "You mean buying a share of this horse was a .was. a  smart idea?" "Of course," Doctor Early breathed grandly, "We all should have an opportunity to hang ourselves financially at least once in our lives. It helps to build character." And he bit into the hamburger. Roy snorted, choking on his milk, partly in a laugh. John shot him a withering look. "Sorry." Roy offered, but he couldn't quite fight back a smile. John stared and Roy dropped the grin only until John looked back at his food and changed the subject, "Thanks, partner for your vote of confidence." he said under his breath.  "Say ah, doc. How's that gang member we brought in?" Dr. Early wiped his mouth with a napkin, "Much better from what I hear. The neurothoracic surgeons are optimistic on a completely normal recovery. They found no spinal damage anywhere. "Good, that's good. but I wonder if that cop still gets it." he mumbled. "What?" Joe asked. "Oh Nothing. just a pighead we ran into at that rescue. Heh." Johnny sighed. "Well, it's been real, doc. We have to go available. Johnny?" Roy said. They both rose, grabbing their walkie talkies. "See ya fellas! And stay away from any more Chet Kelly scams. He's a sure drain on your wallet." Joe called after them. Johnny mouthed sarcasm silently parroting Joe's parting words. Roy designated their status as available on his radio. Dispatch replied, "10 -4, 51." They started down the hall. They heard a disturbance in a room to his left so he investigated. "Hey. someone's fallen or something in there." Roy tried to stop him in vain, "Johnny. No. That's where Mort--" But it was too late and the door was already open. Johnny did an abrupt about face when he saw who it was but he wasn't fast enough. "Hey, Johnny Gage. Come here." a sleepy voice rasped. A clammy hand gripped his wrist and Gage's foot hit the bedpan that had most likely been the noise he had heard when it had fallen earlier. John steeled himself mentally. Then he turned and faced the music. His instinct for self preservation lost out. All right. I'll go out joking. "Ah, Morton my man, what happened to your ankle? Slip on a banana peel?" Roy kicked his partner sharply on the shin without wiping the idiot's grin he had on his face. Johnny's smile tightened but he did not give in to the pain he felt. He looked confused. Morton only chortled, "Hghf!" Roy stooped to picked up the empty bedpan at his feet to set it back on the foot of Morton's bed. Morton blinked, "I took a free tour of my front steps via the Los Angeles Times. Thanks, Roy." John shifted off his throbbing leg to the other foot. "I thought the paramedics run sheet said you slipped on a  banan--" Roy erupted into a huge fit of coughing jags. "Sorry, post nasal drip again. Damn fires. Always screws up your sinuses." *Sniff* It dawned on Gage, finally. He mentally retraced steps. He spoke cautiously realizing the risk of Dixie's feared Morton reaction was a hairsbreadth of being triggered. "Ah. it seems like everyone is falling and getting hurt today." Roy felt an odd shiver of premonition at his partner's comment and he didn't know why. Morton roused again, "What'ya boys, in for?" John spoke while Roy fought chills. "Oh, there was a riot between two rival gangs at the stadium this morning. One gal pushed another guy over the side up on the second tier. He must've fallen sixty feet!" "Thirty." Roy added, sotto voce'. "Ah,, thirty feet. but ah, they say he's doing all right. .That he'll be ok." "Hmphhf." came Morton's reply. Roy and John began to wonder when the powder keg would go off. Then. "oh oh." Morton trickled. The door swathed bright light and the nursing supervisor flicked on the overhead light, heedless of making the three men squint painfully. She pushed in her TPR cart. "Good afternoon, Mr. Morton. Time for your temperature and vitals again." she purred. Morton covered his head with his covers. "Spare me,, Pleassseee." John and Roy were shocked. Gage pointed at Morton, doubting the fear he heard there at first. Roy just shrugged, but then he joined John pointing in pantomime to Morton and then looping a finger around his ear in the "crazy" gesture. The nurse understood. "Oh, that's right. You two haven't heard the rest of Dix's counterplan yet for Mike here. " She smiled sweetly, "Double sedative. Enjoy it while it lasts." John's face lit up. "Come on, doc." she added a bit louder over his whimpers. "You want to get well don'tcha? Now let Guinine take your tempy. Come onnn." John emboldened, piped chimed in. "Yeah Mike. Why don't you be a good boy and let the nice nurse take your temperature. She might decide to go the other route if you don't cooperate." The blankets whipped off. "Gage! I'm warning you! One more cr--" His threat was cut off by the glass rod shoved into his mouth. "Thanks fellas." Nurse Guinine peeped. "You know the old saying Doctors make the worst patients." "Glad to have obliged." John grinned, waving fingers at the muffled, miffed Morton. Morton mumbled something unintelligible, shaking a sleepy fist. "Bye, patient!" Roy teased. The door closed on the sight and Roy and Johnny laughed uncontrollably. They were squad bound when they could both think enough to speak without setting each other off again. "Did you see his face?" John guffawed, "I tell you, Morton couldn't have looked any more trapped in a million years.!" Roy wiped streaming eyes and spoke around his sore stomach. "Ugh. I haven't been that uptight about anyone's personality fallout in a lonnngg while. And when Morton didn't do anything about your banana jabs. Oh!, that was too much." Johnny coughed, "You know he was like that because of the medication Brackett and Dixie pumped him full of. Those orderlies probably went offshift for the day so they extended his sedation period out a little longer than normal. Oh,, what a move!  I thought I was busted." "Yeah. It reminds me of the time when." Roy said. "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Squad 51 with Engine 51. Man down. A half mile north of Rock Creek Canyon Rd. A half mile north of Rock Creek Canyon Rd. Time out. 15:48" A wisp of the dread Roy felt earlier in Morton's room returned and  seeped into the cab. It formed an idea in Roy's head. "Hey, isn't that Majorie Kelly's place?" he asked. John put on his helmet. "I think so. " He thumbed the mike, "Squad 51, responding." "10-4, Squad 51." The engine's reply crackled over the P.A. "Squad 51, this is engine 51. Did I hear that right? That's Chet's family address. He's supposed to be there today, isn't he?" John picked up the mike while Roy drove a little faster. "Yes, Cap. He is." he replied after a bit. "Right. We'll be there in fifteen." "Us, five minutes before that, Cap." Roy flipped on their sirens and they both secured their chin helmet straps. John said. "Chet old pal. What didja do this time?" Roy glanced over at him, startled. He gripped the wheel more tightly. The squad pulled up at the fork of two unnamed roads and the spicy canyon dust cleared before the two LA County paramedics. "Damn!" John swore. "Which way?!" "I'll try dispatch." Roy fingered the radio derisively. "LA, this is squad 51. Do you copy?" "Go ahead, 51." "Could you 10-9 the address of our current response destination?" "A half mile north of Rock Creek Canyon Rd." John shook his head in frustration, hanging his head out of his window Trying to find a road sign or anything at all. Roy spoke again, "LA, could you clarify? We're on the only road into the canyon at a Y junction. I don't see road signs of any kind. Over." The dispatcher toggled some keys at his terminal and pulled up an aerial photograph of the canyon. "51, which canyon rim are you located upon?" John leaned out the window again, noting the angle of the sun. "West side." "The west side rim, LA, over." Roy told dispatch. "Proceed down the right hand fork for 1/8 of a mile, 51. Aerial shows five buildings in that direction." John called out nervously, "Let's go.!!" Roy spun gravel. They went. "10-4, LA. We copy. Moving down right hand fork." "51, Will advise Engine 51 of your 10-20." "Squad 51 , out." Roy finished. Hanging up the radio phone. The narrow road opened out into a wide tree filled mesa. A barn in great disrepair stood in a meadow at the right. There was no sign of an off road. "Here?" Roy wondered. John looked about. A glint caught his eye, unusual for a remote Californian canyon. New car painted metal. "There! on the left about 400 yards down. It could be a parked car." There was an automobile, half concealed in the tall grass, a crème colored station wagon. Chet's. A little ways beyond, a paved driveway wound itself into a hillside. Roy sped up. It was a good two minutes before they saw the house. John whistled through his teeth, "This is some spread!" "Yeah." Roy breathed. He pulled up. There was a sign over the road. It said :   KELLY-K  RANCH continue