A Hero Undeserving By:  Mary Cull One moment he was walking, smiling amongst the crowd, the next he felt a searing, white hot pain penetrating his chest, the force of whatever caused the pain making him spin and fall helplessly to the ground. Stunned, he realized the blinding pain was making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. He attempted to move, but could not even feel the rest of his body, which lay limp on the cold, hard floor. He was only vaguely aware of a warm, wet sensation covering his chest as he tried to open his eyes. Another moment later, from what seemed like a hundred miles away, he could barely hear the scramblings of people as he felt them around him, someone touching him lightly, turning him onto his back. He heard a voice then, sounding almost like a tape recording in mumbled slow motion yell; "He's been shot!" He could hear more voices, but had difficulty understanding what they were saying. All his senses seemed to have vanished, except for the sensation of intense, burning pain still deep in his chest. He struggled to stay coherent, his thoughts becoming marbled and panic filling him as he tried desperately to breathe. Suddenly, the realization of what happened to him flooded him, and he felt an eerie sense envelop him. Somehow, he knew his partner was beside him and had an overwhelming urge to talk to him, explain everything he knew, before it was all over for him. Gathering every last ounce of strength, and fighting to block out the intenseness of the pain consuming him, he spoke, mumbling what he could. But his vision and senses were graying and he felt himself losing the battle to stay conscious... Paramedic Johnny Gage had been sleeping deeply for only half an hour when the loud tones of the klaxon sounded. Groggy, and still completely exhausted, he slowly sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced over at his partner in the next bunk and somewhat disoriented, did a double take when he saw that the man was not Roy DeSoto. Instantly, he realized it was Charlie Baker and then remembered he was working an overtime shift. But Johnny had barely been able to grab more than two hours sleep in the last 40 hours because they had been so bombarded by calls. "Gage! Hurry it up!" he heard Charlie say as he struggled with his turnout pants. As he began to run out to the apparatus bay, he was so tired that he smacked right into the wall. "Ouch!" he muttered loudly, but quickly carried on, with the aid of firefighter Sam Donaldson, who grabbed his elbow and walked him quickly over to the squad. Johnny, knowing he was needed somewhere for some emergency got into the squad and listening to the dispatcher's voice, he groaned. "Station 51, vehicle accident with injuries. 2735 Magnolia, 2-7-3-5 Magnolia, cross street Sheridan. Time out 01:17." As Charlie drove the squad out with the engine not far behind, Johnny realized he was having a lot of trouble focusing and trying to stay alert. Charlie caught him rubbing his eyes. "Hey Gage, you look like hell. Better get it together, we'll be at the scene in a minute or two." Johnny nodded and closed his eyes. They stung deeply. He was wishing that he hadn't have accepted the overtime shift now because he was too tired. The calls had been continuous all day and had been anything but routine. Since noon, they had responded to eight calls, three of them being fires. He had worked hard and his muscles were like rubber. Johnny felt as weak as a kitten, and his eyes still closed, willed himself to be anyplace but sitting in the squad hurrying to an accident. Sleep was consuming him, beckoning him and he wanted nothing more than to give in to it. As he sat motionless, Gage began to feel himself relaxing, a little too much. The sounds of the squad's sirens began to fade as he drifted off for a few seconds. As suddenly as he had fallen to sleep, he jerked himself awake, knowing he needed to be alert and ready to help in any way necessary. People's lives depended on him and struggling, he forced the weariness away. The thought that he knew he had only a few hours more to go and that this would hopefully be their last call comforted him slightly. So he forced himself to open his eyes, despite the stinging, and looked forward to having the next two days off. At the scene, Charlie and Johnny jumped hurriedly out of the squad and went to the side panels to get their equipment. As the two of them walked over towards the accident, the engine stopped behind them and Captain Hookrader shouted instructions to the men. "Donaldson, Richter, bring an inch and a half over here! There's gasoline all over the place!" It was after one o'clock in the morning, but the street was alive with the commotion of what the vehicle accident had caused. The firefighters of Engine 51 had their hoses trained on the road and sidewalk as they moved towards the damaged vehicles. A few bystanders had gathered around to watch the activities and a police car arrived at the scene as Captain Hookrader grabbed his handy talkie. "L.A. This is Engine 51. We have a two-car collision with injuries. Respond an ambulance to our location." There were two cars involved in the accident, the first one being a brown station wagon and the second, a blue sedan. It was obvious to the paramedics that the blue car had caused the accident, by having turned left much too sharply, crunching the station wagon and pushing it into the intersection, up on the sidewalk.  Both vehicles had sustained a great deal of damage and Johnny found himself wondering if they would have any survivors to treat. Charlie went to the station wagon to check the occupants, wincing as he saw the damage to the front and left side of the vehicle. Gage reached the blue sedan and put the equipment he was carrying carefully on the sidewalk. For a moment, he surveyed the car, which had struck a telephone pole and come to rest on the sidewalk, very narrowly missing crashing into a store on the street. There was a man crouched on the pavement attempting to open the passenger side door. Johnny could smell smoke. "Sir! Sir, are you hurt anywhere?" he asked the man and helped him to his feet. "No, just cut up a bit. My daughter - she's inside. I can't get her out! Help her!" he ordered. With some difficulty, Johnny opened the driver's side door and crawled in, amongst the broken glass and metal, beside the girl. She was unconscious as Gage reached instinctively for her neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, but weak, and she was bleeding deeply from a wound to her forehead. As he further assessed her injuries, the paramedic noticed with disdain that the young woman's legs were trapped under the crushed dashboard. The front end of the car had been severely damaged and the result was a buckling effect, with the passenger side receiving the worst of it. Johnny tried in vain to free his victim's legs, but they were eerily now part of the caved in metal that had come to rest on top of them. . Gage got out quickly as the car started on fire, cutting his hand slightly on a piece of unseen glass. But he ignored his own pain and ran out to the passenger side, hopeful that he might be able to get her out easier from that side. The older man was standing there, yelling at him to do something. "Fireman, hurry up! Get her out! Hurry it up! The car's going to blow up! Do something, please!" "Cap, quick, can you take this guy, please?" Gage cried out, worried and aggravated as the man continued to verbally harass him. Johnny looked around, watching the firefighters as they attempted to extinguish the blaze that had erupted around the station wagon, threatening to become out of control. Gage needed help and he needed it now. Spotting Engine 51's B shift engineer, Tom Weston, Johnny shouted over to him. "Tom, I need a crowbar, right away, this car's gonna go!" Instantly, Tom retrieved the crowbar and ran to the sedan as Captain Hookrader finally grabbed the despondent father and pulled him away from the wreckage. The police officer on the scene assisted with the very distraught man who would not stop shouting out orders. The station wagon was also still in flames and out of the corner of his eye; Johnny was only slightly aware that Charlie was pulling his victim out, with the aid of Captain Hookrader. It was becoming obvious to all that the stubborn fire was refusing to be extinguished. "Gage, I think this car's gonna go any second! Hurry!" Sam Donaldson yelled to him, as the paramedic worked forcefully with the crowbar. For a second, Johnny wondered if time would allow what he was so desperately attempting to do. The smoke was thick and grey as Johnny began to feel his eyes tear up and his throat constrict. He began to cough, the tears in his eyes making it difficult for him to see. Just then, Johnny managed to pry open the demolished car's door, blood from his hand dripping unnoticed to the pavement. He moved in frantically, trying to get the young woman's legs out from under the dashboard. He worked feverishly, breaking into a sweat, determination etched on his face. A second later he was rewarded when he saw one of her legs move away from under the dashboard. Even in the darkness, Gage could see it was covered in blood. "Johnny! C'mon! Now!" he heard Charlie yelling over the noise of the fire and hoses. Looking up, he saw the flames were now inside the engine and all around the car. But he was completely focused on his rescue, the danger of the situation not even entering his mind, and did not give up his task until a second later when he felt someone's arms around him, pulling him forcibly out of the car. "No!" he yelled, panic stricken. He could not bear to leave the girl trapped inside the car, but he had no choice. He fought to get back, but the strong arms were pushing him, and running with him away from the damaged, fire gutted vehicle. The force of the explosion caused him and the man who had pulled him away from the burning sedan to fall to the ground. As Johnny looked around him, somewhat in a daze, he realized it had been Charlie Baker who had saved his life. But he could not stop thinking about the young woman and quickly rose to his feet, blinded by the brightness of the flames surrounding the car. The explosion from the sedan made the windows of the small deli store, which the ill-fated car had landed next to, blow out and it too, was now on fire as well. The firemen were already there, hoses aimed at the vehicle wreckage and the burning deli, extinguishing the fire. Instinctively, Johnny picked himself up from the ground and ran towards the vehicle, but was stopped once again, this time by Captain Hookrader. "You can't help her, son," he said softly, trying to push Johnny away. Johnny felt his knees go weak and his stomach sicken. Instantly he glanced over at the young woman's father who was making his way stealthily over to him. "You!" he screamed at the young, shocked paramedic. "You let my baby die! What in the hell is the matter with you? You killed her! You should've gotten her out! That's what you get paid to do, isn't it? This is all your fault - and I'm holding you personally responsible for my daughter's death! You will pay for what you've done, young man, mark my words, you will pay!" Captain Hookrader saw the looks on the faces of both his paramedic and the grieving father. Quickly, he moved towards the man, aided in his efforts to comfort the father by the police officer who kindly came over to help. They walked the man, who was now sobbing, away from the scene, speaking soft words of sympathy to him. The man was completely distraught and when his legs gave out, Captain Hookrader and the cop held him up on each side, until they reached the police cruiser. The officer opened the passenger door, and sat the crying man down, trying to be comforting, but the father would not listen to him. "Don't tell me everything is going to be okay! Have you ever lost a child? Have you ever watched your child die in front of your eyes? And...and all because of some incompetent young hooligan who has no right being a firefighter!" Police officer and fire captain exchanged glances. This man was not going to calm down or listen to reason right now. "Sir, is there someone who can come and pick you up?" the cop asked softly. "No there is not! I'm a widower! She...she's dead! I can't believe my little girl's dead! I'm never going to see her beautiful face again!" the man continued to sob. Captain Hookrader looked at the officer and then spoke to the father. "Sir, I think you should go to the hospital for a check, there's an ambulance here, they can take you, just to make certain you're okay." "No!" the parent screamed. "Look, Mr. ah...Mr...." the police officer began. "Sanchez, my name is Harold Sanchez." "Mr. Sanchez, I really do think you should go to the hospital, as Captain Hookrader here suggested. It's for your own welfare. I'll accompany you and get your story of what happened here tonight. I'm sorry, but I do need to make out a report on this." Sanchez hesitated a moment, choking back a sob. "Okay, I'll go. But I want to know the name of that young fireman first." Police officer and station captain exchanged glances again. Then Captain Hookrader told him Johnny's name, knowing the man needed to get to the hospital and also knowing that if he was determined enough, Sanchez could very easily find out his paramedic's name for himself. Johnny's face was ashen as Sam walked him over to the squad where Charlie was putting away their equipment. His mind was buzzing and he could not think straight. Nothing this horrible had ever happened to him before. He had never abandoned a victim and his throat tightened up with guilt. Nausea overwhelmed him and he bent down next to the squad, emptying what little contents he had in his stomach. Charlie went over to him as he sat on the squad's bumper in a complete daze, and put his arm around Gage's shoulder. Sam Donaldson saw the look on Johnny's pale face as he walked over beside the two paramedics. "You okay?" Baker asked, looking into his temporary partner's deeply troubled brown eyes. "This was not your fault, Johnny," Sam replied, joining in. "Hell, you'd've died in there too if Charlie hadn't've dragged you out." "The other car..." Johnny said slowly, his voice low and raspy. "Where are the victims?" "It was just the driver. Ah, he didn't make it." Charlie told him quietly and looked down, suddenly noticing the blood oozing out of the cut in Gage's left hand. "Hey, you're bleeding! Let me wrap you up!" Johnny sat there, numb and silent, in his own little world, as the other paramedic did his job and bandaged up his hand. His thoughts were fused together and all he could focus on was the possibility that he had somehow made a mistake. In his mind's eye, all he could picture was the car exploding, killing the innocent young woman inside. "Charlie, it's my fault," he said finally. "No it isn't, Johnny." "Yes it is! I...I shouldn't have volunteered to work this overtime shift. I'm too tired, I didn't move quickly enough! What was I thinking accepting this overtime shift? I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be working! I'm exhausted, I didn't think things out quickly enough. Too damn tired. This is all...all my fault. That young woman is dead because...I...I'm too tired! I've gotten victims out of worse situations much faster before! What was I thinking? My God! I killed her! I killed her! She may still be alive if I..." "Gage, you did everything humanly possible and more," the distraught paramedic heard Captain Hookrader say. "You're completely in the clear, nothing was your fault." "But her father said..." "Her father was upset and grieving. He'll realize there was nothing else you could have done under the circumstances in a couple of days. If it's anybody's fault, it's his for having caused the accident in the first place. Gage, I watched what you did to try to save that girl. I want you to know that never, in all my twenty-six years as a firefighter, have I ever seen anyone more determined, or take more of a chance attempting to rescue someone, as you did here tonight. It's a terrible tragedy that she didn't make it. But you did everything you could, even risked your own neck, and there's nothing for you to feel badly about. Now I hate to say this, but let's do our best to forget it and go back to the station." However,  neither the anguished man nor Johnny could forget about it. Exhausted, and completely disgusted with himself, Johnny got into the squad for the drive back to the station. E!*E!*E!*E!*E! 'I'm gonna die! I'm going to die!' These thoughts kept repeating themselves to the injured young man, as he lay still on the cold, hard ground, surrounded by people doing their best to help him. He felt a pressure on his chest and wanted to scream out in agony, but the weakness that surrounded his being prevented him from doing so. Breathing had started to become nearly impossible. He struggled to inhale a large quantity of desperately needed air, but his lungs would not allow it. He felt panicked all over again, then heard the warm, familiar voice of his partner. 'He's afraid! I can hear it in his voice!' the young man thought, believing his chances of survival to be slim to none. He didn't want to die, not now, not this way. He wasn't ready yet to have his life end now. He knew he had so much more to accomplish, so much more living to do. He was only twenty-eight years old. He could feel himself trembling, partially from being deathly cold, partially from being deathly afraid. He was only twenty-eight years old and he was about to die... The next day after his dreaded overtime shift ended, Johnny got a phone call from his partner, Roy DeSoto. Roy had heard about what had happened from Charlie who had called to tell him Johnny had been very upset by the whole ordeal, and was not coping very well. Charlie hoped that his partner and best friend would be able to cheer him up, where all of B shift had failed. "Hey, Johnny! How are you doing?" Roy asked in his best cheerful voice. "Fine, just fine," Johnny replied in monotones. He was reading the obituaries in the paper. "Charlie told me you lost a victim the other night. I'm sorry. You okay now?" "There it is!" Johnny replied, slapping the newspaper and ignoring his partner. "What?" "She's in here. Her name was Gloria Sanchez. She was only nineteen years old, survived by her father, Harold, brother Ricky, and predeceased by her sister, Maria. Tragically killed in a car accident...." "Johnny!" Roy yelled, bringing him back. "C'mon, snap out of it, Junior. Let it go, there's nothing you can do." The young paramedic sighed and put the newspaper down. "You're right, Roy. But I feel so terrible, so responsible. Her father made me feel so guilty..." "You want me to come over?" Roy asked, knowing that his partner needed someone to talk to. "Ah, thanks Roy, but no. I think I'm going to just relax today, and stay around the house." "You sure? Want to go out, or come over here?" "No, Roy. But thanks. Hey, I'll see you tomorrow." Johnny hung up the phone and sighed. As soon as he did, it rang once again. Gage picked it up, believing it was Roy again. "Roy, look man, I told you I'm..." he started before being cut off by the caller. "I know where you live!" the person on the other end hissed at him. Gage frowned, disturbed, and hesitated. Who is this lunatic and what does he want? "Do I know you?" he asked his caller. But Gage's only answer was a click and then a dial tone in his ear. Perplexed, he hung up the phone again. E!*E!*E!*E!*E! The young, injured man could not really tell if he were dreaming or if what he was experiencing was real. Then as he tried to open his eyes, the intense burning sensation overwhelmed him again and he knew this was no dream. His back ached from lying on the cold, hard floor and for a moment he concentrated on this pain, attempting to trick his mind into not feeling the deep, lingering pain in his chest. But that lasted only a moment. Voices kept speaking above him, but he had difficulty in making out what they were saying. He could hear his partner's voice, sounding concerned and angry at the same time and he could feel hands touching him. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe and he was not coherent enough to realize he was covered in his own blood. He tried again to get up off the cold surface, annoyed somewhat when he could not seem to find his legs in order to do so. His mind was not thinking rationally. One moment he was re-living some event in his young life, the next he felt as though he would die from the pain he was experiencing. His confused mind could not process information correctly. He wanted to speak again to his partner, the realization of what was actually happening coming back to him again. His eyes opened slowly and for a moment, he felt blind, unable to see anything, the fear and pain numbing his senses momentarily. Then his eyes focused and he saw the pale, worried face of his partner. He relaxed, knowing this young man would do everything in his power to save him. Another second later, the gravely injured man tried to talk once more. E!*E!*E!*E!*E! Early the next morning, as Johnny left his house and walked over to his Land Rover, he was dismayed to see a flat tire. "Dammit," he swore softly. "I really don't have time for this!" But he pulled out the spare and changed the tire as quickly as possible and then proceeded to drive to the station in a hurry, wondering how the tire had gotten flat. At two minutes to eight, the young paramedic ran into the locker room where he quickly changed into his Department issued uniform. As he was buttoning up his shirt, Roy walked in. "Hey, didn't think you were gonna make it for a while there. Everything okay?" he asked, a little worried about Johnny's emotional condition. "Yeah, I'm fine," the dark haired paramedic answered back. "But my car wasn't. Had a flat tire I had to change this mornin', that's why I'm here so late." "Well, c'mon into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee. The cap wants to talk to you." Johnny grimaced. "Me? What for?" he asked, a little nervous. "I don't know, but ya better hurry," Roy replied. In the kitchen, Johnny walked gingerly over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. Then he sat down at the table beside Captain Stanley, wondering what it was he wanted to talk to him about. "Ah, you wanted to see me, Cap?" "Yeah, Johnny. Look, would you mind coming into my office with me?" Johnny paled. He left his untouched cup of coffee on the table and followed the station captain into his office. "Have a seat, won't you, John?" Hank invited, motioning with his hand towards the chair in front of his desk. The captain sat himself down and watched his junior paramedic, who appeared to be somewhat nervous, his right leg bouncing up and down. It dawned on Cap then that Gage must be thinking he was in some kind of trouble. "Relax, John. I just wanted to talk to you. I heard all about the victim you lost the other night, in a car fire, while you were working that OT shift and I just wanted to make sure you're okay." Gage breathed a deep sigh of relief. He wasn't in trouble after all. He'd been really worried that the Cap wanted to ream him out about something. "Well Cap, it was a real bad scene. I tried so hard to get her out, and I just couldn't. It  happened so fast...and Charlie grabbed me and just pulled me out of the car..." "I know, John. You did everything you could. And that is why Captain Hookrader, along with myself, has recommended to the Chief that you receive a citation for bravery in the line of duty." Johnny was stunned. "What? Cap, really....it was more stupidity and stubbornness and the fact I hadn't slept..."  Johnny began, his jaw dropping, not believing for a moment he'd done anything out of bravery. "Cap Hookrader watched how you risked your life...and a witness at the scene even called headquarters to say how impressed with your..." "But Cap! I can't, I just can't! The girl was killed! No Cap, I definitely do not deserve this!" he cried out, the words of the victim's father still ringing in his ears. Hank was shocked momentarily. Rarely had his paramedic ever voiced disagreement with anything he had told him. He had been certain Johnny would have proudly accepted the news of his forthcoming award. "Look, Gage, no arguments. Although it was unfortunate that the girl didn't make it,  what you did, certainly qualifies for a selfless act where you absolutely went over and above without any regard for your own safety." "But Cap!" Johnny replied, feeling terrible. "We've all discussed it and the Chief is in complete agreement. You deserve this citation, Johnny. And you, with a bunch of other firemen, will be honored and presented with your citations formally on Tuesday." Cap Stanley ended, the authority in his voice forcing Gage to conclude their talk was over and he was dismissed. Slowly he stood up, locking eyes with his captain, but knowing better than to say another word he left the office to join his crew members in the kitchen. They all noticed the grieved look on his face when he entered and sat down at the table, not saying a word. Chet Kelly was the first to speak. "Hey, Gage, what'd you do? Cap write you up for being late too many times?" The dark-haired paramedic glared at the stocky firefighter, still unable to speak. Roy, uncomfortable, thinking his best friend had just been raked over by their captain, felt a slight pang of fear. "Johnny, what is it? Is everything okay? What'd Cap say? Are you in trouble for something?" Finally, Gage found his voice and looked at the four pairs of inquisitive eyes around him. "Ah, no, I'm not in trouble, " he started, his crewmates breathing simultaneous sighs of relief. "Then what is it? You look like you just got fired," engineer Mike Stoker spoke up. "No...worse. I...I..." Johnny muttered, still not believing the news Cap had told him, and scaring his friends all over again. "You what?" Marco Lopez inquired. "Cap told me that...that they want to give me a...a...citation for brrrr..." Gage stumbled over the words, unable to fully admit to this shock he'd received. "C'mon, Gage, spit it out, would ya already?" Chet demanded, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Cap said that they want to give me a citation for bravery in the line of duty." There, he'd said it, finally, shaking his head, staring helplessly at the floor, more disbelief overwhelming him. "Johnny, that's great!" Mike exclaimed and gave him a slap on the back. "What?" Chet replied incredulously, wanting to slap the paramedic in the face. "Are you kidding me, Gage? You mope in here, making us think you, like, got fired or something and it turns out you're getting an award?" "Really, John? Well, good for you," Marco replied. "What did you do?" The young paramedic sighed, knowing that question was coming. He explained, slowly, about his rescue gone bad the night he worked the overtime shift. But his crewmates still seemed happy for him, despite what he thought about not deserving it. Johnny held his head in his hands as the other men of Station 51 crowded around to congratulate him. He just could not believe this. How could everyone possibly think he deserved an award when he had allowed a young lady to die? Johnny was definitely not thinking straight. Inside, he was still feeling a great deal of guilt because of what the unfortunate victim's father had said to him after the explosion had occurred. The man's words and  the look on his face still haunted his memory. "Hey, partner, I'm really proud of you!" Roy smiled at him and shook his hand. "Roy, you've gotta help me cancel this thing!" Johnny whispered, urgency in his voice. "Cancel it? Johnny, it's a total honor..." "I DON'T DESERVE IT!" he yelled and as he rose to get up slapped the table hard with his hand, in frustration. Just exactly at that moment, the klaxon sounded. The two paramedics looked at one another and Johnny shrugged his shoulders as they hurried to the squad. "Squad 51, man down, 2117 Richardson. 2-1-1-7 Richardson, cross street Parkside. Time out 08:43." Roy stopped the squad in front of a small house where an older, grey-haired woman stood, waving them down.  As they exited the vehicle, and ran to get their gear out of the side panels, she came over to them. "Please hurry," she said, her voice shaky. "What's the problem?" Johnny asked as he and Roy followed her into the house, carrying the equipment they trusted they would need. "My husband, Ed Thompson, collapsed on the floor and I can't wake him up!  Please help him!" As the woman led them into the living room, Johnny saw the victim lying on the floor and leaned down, instinctively grabbing the man's left arm, searching for a pulse. There wasn't one. "Roy, he's in full cardiac arrest!" he replied and ripped open the man's shirt as Roy patched him in and grabbed the paddles. Johnny was watching the monitor and giving the man oxygen. Mrs. Thompson was sobbing slightly as she watched them fearfully. "One, two, three, four hundred watt seconds!" Johnny said. "Clear!" Roy yelled out and zapped him. "Nothin'! Let's do it again," Johnny replied and started the re-charge. "One, two, three, four hundred watts!" Gage counted, studying the monitor again.  "Clear!" Roy repeated and hit the man again with the electrical current. "Wait! He's got a pulse,"  Johnny noted, and watching the bleeps on the monitor, got on the biophone to Rampart. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?" "51, we read you loud and clear." Dr. Joe Early's voice came over the phone. "Rampart, we have a male, age approximately 60. Upon our arrival he was in cardiac arrest. We defibrillated times two and now have a pulse of 65. We have him on six liters of oxygen. Stand by for other vitals, Rampart," Johnny said and waited for Roy to give them to him. "51, standing by for vitals, send me a strip," Dr. Early requested. "Johnny, BP is 80 over 40, respirations are 20, and pulse is still 65," Roy advised. Johnny repeated them to Rampart and sent a strip of the victim's heart rate to Dr. Early. "51, start IV, D5W, administer two amps bicarb and give me a new set of vitals," the doctor ordered. The paramedics administered the medication and the patient was soon stable enough for transport as the ambulance arrived at the scene. The victim's wife approached Johnny, her eyes pleading. "How's Ed? Is he going to die?" she asked fearfully. "Ma'am, we're doing everything we can. I think your husband is gonna be okay, he's got a pulse and his vital signs are improving. We'll be taking him to Rampart Emergency, where some of the best doctors in the county will be taking care of him. You can come if you like, but you'll have to ride in the front of the ambulance." Johnny informed her.  The paramedics loaded up the victim in the ambulance and Roy and Mrs. Thompson left with him for the hospital. Johnny stayed behind and finished putting the gear back inside the squad. As he went to the driver's side and opened the door, he was surprised and startled to see a card lying on the seat of the squad. It was the Ace of Spades. He picked it up and tossed it out the window, not giving it another thought. Looking around him and starting the engine, he muttered, "Kids!" under his breath as he drove away. Johnny did not realize the meaning or significance of the card, and thought nothing more about it as he approached Rampart. He parked the squad and walked into the hospital to see his partner chatting amicably with Nurse Dixie McCall. Smiling, he joined them, but then felt his smile turn into a frown as Dixie grinned up at him. "You told her, didn't you, Roy," he muttered somewhat angrily, under his breath. "C'mon, Johnny, I think it's great that you're getting that award. I'm honored to be the partner of someone so enduring, someone so highly thought of," Roy replied as Johnny's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Yeah, Johnny, it's a thrill to know you are finally getting the recognition you deserve," Dixie said. "God, you guys just don't get it, do you? She died...she was killed..." Gage ranted. "We know that, Johnny. But you're being honored because of your extreme effort to save her, that you nearly lost your own life, never gave up trying to save her and had to be forced away by someone before you were killed," Dixie stated, matter-of-factly, pointing a finger at him. Johnny chose to ignore the statement, meant as a compliment. "How's Mr. Thompson doing?" he asked, successfully changing the subject. "Dr. Early had him sent right up to the cardiac unit. He's holding his own," Roy informed him. "Well, good, hope he does okay. Look, we better get going, Roy," Gage said, and, saying good-bye to Dixie, they left the hospital. E!*E!*E!*E!*E! The injured young man fought to stay conscious, realizing he was being picked up and placed on a stretcher. He tried to open his eyes, but the weariness was too great. He could hear the sounds around him as he felt himself being carried, and finally recognized the voice of his partner. "I'm going with him," he heard his partner say and then the wounded man felt himself lifted up higher. He winced and moaned, as he tried to breathe deeply, a sharp pain stabbing him from within his wheezing chest. He heard the loud sounds of a siren whaling, felt movement, then heard his friend's voice again. "Easy, easy, we'll be at Rampart in a few minutes, just hang in there." The young man who'd been shot forced his heavy eyes open and glanced at the man sitting beside him, his partner, his best friend. "Roy...I...," he started, but was quickly cut off. "Johnny, please don't try to talk. We'll be at Rampart soon. You're going to be just fine," Roy soothed, patting his arm softly. "No, Roy," Johnny managed to wheeze out, again fighting the blackness that was threatening to consume him. "I think...this is it for me, Roy." "Don't talk like that. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Junior." Junior. Roy'd called him 'Junior'. That just about cinched it. Gage knew he was critical. "No, Roy," Johnny repeated and reached up, pulling off the oxygen mask that was covering his face.  But the effort it took to do that caused him to lose consciousness once again. Back at the Station, the men kept busy doing chores. Johnny had forgotten all about finding the Ace of  Spades in the squad as he mopped the floor in the bathroom. A short while later, as they were going into the kitchen to eat lunch, Chet rushed up and grabbed Johnny's arm, a strange expression on his face. "Hey, have you been out back in the parking lot lately?" he asked the paramedic. "No, why?" Johnny questioned back. "Ah...never mind, let's eat," Chet replied quickly. A look of annoyance was clearly visible on Johnny's face. "Look, Chet, is there something I oughta know about out there?" "It can wait." "Chet! What is it, Chet?" Johnny demanded rather loudly, pinning the stocky fireman up against the wall, waiting for an explanation. "Well, um, maybe you just better go see for yourself, pal." Johnny, truly aggravated by Chet's demeanor, lightly punched the wall above the portly man's face. As soon as he did that, the klaxon tones sounded. The two of them glared at each other as they turned around and ran out into the apparatus bay. "Station 51, Engine 36, Battalion 14, structure fire, 12707 Cedar Street West. 1-2-7-0-7 Cedar Street West, cross street Whipple, time out 12:35." The squad and engine roared off down the street towards their incident, totally oblivious that they were being watched and followed. At the scene, they saw a large older house heavily engulfed in flames. Captain Stanley ran over to a man who was waving his arms to get his attention. "Anyone inside?" the Cap asked him. "Yeah, my wife! I got my kids out, but she got trapped in there when part of the roof caved in. Please help her!" the man begged in between coughs. Roy quickly grabbed the oxygen from the squad and placed a mask around the man's face. "Johnny, Roy! There's a woman still inside! Get your gear on and go look for her! Chet, Marco, I need two inch and a halfs on the double! Chet, cover Johnny and Roy! Marco, follow me to the back of the house, the fire is the worst there, let's try to contain it!" Cap ordered. As the paramedics put on their air tanks and oxygen masks, Chet followed them with the hose, spraying out as much of the flames as he could. Marco took his hose, as Cap went to help him, to the rear side of the house where the flames were nearly out of control, just as Engine 36's crew arrived. "Engine 36, cover us at the back of the structure, we need hoses on the adjoining house to prevent the fire from spreading," Captain Stanley advised into his handy talkie. Inside the dwelling, the smoke was thick and black and the sounds around them were deafening. The house was large and as they searched for the woman, unsuccessfully on the first floor, Roy yelled to Johnny. "I'm gonna go upstairs! Chet, follow me up when  you have this fire under control!" As Roy disappeared up the stairs, Johnny shouted to Chet, "The fire's worse up there! Go!" Nodding, Chet dragged the hose up the stairs and followed Roy as he started to search the bedrooms and bathrooms. On the main floor, Johnny looked around in anguish in the kitchen and dining room. Nothing. The smoke was so thick and dense he could barely see anything at all, and for a moment, he sank to his knees to look under the dining room table. No victim was there, so he entered the family room and searched around in desperation for the victim, shouting for her. Even with his air mask on, the smoke was burning his throat and making his eyes water, and Johnny knew he'd better hurry up and locate the woman before it was too late. He was hoping that maybe Roy would have better luck in finding her than he was. Making his way through the room, he noticed that the flames were growing worse, the furniture and carpet burning around him. As the paramedic turned, continuing to look for his victim, he was suddenly startled by the loud noise of the window directly behind him shattering. Glass flew everywhere and instantaneously he felt a hard object hit him on the head, sending his helmet flying. The force of the object sent him hurtling to the floor just as Roy and Chet started down the stairs carrying the unconscious woman. "Johnny!" Roy yelled, seeing his partner laying face-down on the floor, dangerously close to the flames of the fire that were now out of control throughout the room. Carefully, the two firefighters made their way down the stairs with the woman. As much as Roy wanted to stay and check out what happened to his partner, he knew his first responsibility was towards the injured woman. So, being the medic, he put her over his shoulder and made his way out of the burning house as Chet ran to Gage's aid. Kelly turned the hapless paramedic around noticing his air mask had come off his face from his fall. He looked at the downed man, wondering what had happened to him, realizing that unless they got out now they would both perish from the flames. Chet glanced around and noticed Gage's helmet on the floor a couple of  feet away. Checking the paramedic out quickly, Kelly saw that Johnny was bleeding slightly from a cut on the side of his head, just above his ear. As the stocky firefighter cleared the glass fragments off his fallen friend, he saw something else. About a foot away, was a relatively large, heavy rock. Chet frowned, dismayed, and felt the hair on his neck stand up. What? How did...a rock...no way! he thought, realizing it had struck Gage, causing him to go down. Johnny was starting to come around, being only momentarily stunned by the blow. Kelly put his air mask back on his face, grabbed his helmet, and helped him to his feet, just as a wall in the family room crumbled to the floor a mere few feet away from them.  "You okay?" Chet asked, concerned. "Yeah, I think so. What the hell happened?" Johnny asked, gulping in large doses of air. "Don't know, c'mon let's get you out of here, before the ceiling collapses on top of us!" Outside, they saw Roy had given the still unconscious woman oxygen and was on the biophone to Rampart. DeSoto breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his partner walk over to him, aided slightly by Chet, who sat him down on the grass and helped him remove his tank and turnout coat. Then the firefighter left to help the others in extinguishing the blaze that was destroying the house. "Ten-four, Rampart, IV with Ringers, transporting as soon as possible," Roy said into the phone, acknowledging his orders for the woman's treatment. He started the IV expertly, while the husband looked on, hugging his two young sons. "Is she...is Jennifer going to be okay?" the man asked, choking back a sob. "She's suffered some smoke inhalation and some slight burns, but I think she's going to be okay. We're doing everything possible for her," Roy answered, looking up to see the ambulance approaching. "Yes, I know that, and I just want to say thank you so much for getting her out of there. I hope you weren't too badly injured?" the man questioned, looking at Johnny. "Oh, me? I'm okay," the dark-haired paramedic replied, breathing in deeply, trying to ignore the pain in his head, rubbing it and then sorry he'd done that when his hand came away with blood on it. Roy held a breath, concerned for his friend and wiped the bloody hand with a cloth. DeSoto aided the ambulance attendants with the victim, then walked back over to his partner, who was still sitting on the grass. The husband and children left the scene to get their car. They were going to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Roy grabbed one of the attendants, saying, "Malcolm, hold on a second, we may have a second victim." The man nodded as DeSoto leaned down, going into paramedic mode again. "Okay, Junior, your turn. Let me have a look at your head," Roy demanded, knowing he would be met with reluctance. "I'm okay, Roy," the dark haired paramedic insisted, as Chet Kelly returned to see how he was doing. The fire had been contained, but the house was completely gutted. "You're bleeding. Let me see." Roy saw the gash on the side of Johnny's head where the rock had struck him. Gage also had a fair sized bump and a slight headache, but he assured his worried partner he was all right. Roy, however, remained unconvinced and wanted him to go to Rampart for a check. "It was the weirdest thing, Roy. Something broke the window and then I went down. I guess it must have been part of the house caving in, I don't know." Chet remained quiet for a moment. Then he knew he had to tell the two paramedics what he'd found. "It ah, wasn't part of the house," he informed Gage. "What? Chet, what are you talking about?" Gage demanded, as Roy helped him to his feet and into the ambulance. "I found a rock on the floor beside you." "A rock?" Johnny asked, as dumbfounded as Roy was. "Yeah, a rock. Someone must have thrown it at the window and it hit you." Johnny stared at Chet, bewildered. "Now, who would throw a rock through a window during a fire?" "I don't know. There were a lot of people standing around, watching. Someone must've done it for kicks, I guess. Figured the house was totaled anyway, why not," Chet answered, as Captain Stanley walked over to them. "You all right, Gage?" Hank asked. "I'm fine, Cap." "I'm taking him into Rampart for a check, Cap. He's got a pretty good bump and cut on his head," Roy said, glaring slightly when Johnny made a face. He was not taking no for an answer and the younger paramedic knew it would be futile to resist. "Okay. Chet drive the squad into Rampart, would you? We'll swing by and pick you up. We're all done here, the house is pretty much destroyed. Station 36 is staying for the clean-up. See you guys later," Stanley replied. At the hospital, Dr. Early examined Johnny's head. The bleeding had stopped and as he appeared to be all right, the doctor released him to go back to work, but cautioned him to come back right away if there were any complications. "Keep an eye on him, Roy. Any signs of dizziness, headache, excessive tiredness, nausea, or blurred vision...well, you know the routine, get him back here on the double," Dr. Early advised. "You bet, Doc. Thanks," Roy said as they left the examining room and ran into Dixie and Dr. Brackett by the nurses station. "Hey, guys, the woman you rescued from that fire is going to be fine. She woke up and is breathing very well. Only minor smoke inhalation and a few first degree burns. We're going to keep her here for a day or two just to be sure, but I think she's gonna be fine," Dr. Brackett replied. "Oh, by the way, Johnny, how are you?" "Yeah, Johnny, how's your head? Dr. Early released you to go back to work?" Dixie asked. "I'm fine, just a little cut and bump, is all. Nothing to get excited about, as I already told my trusted partner, here," Gage answered them. "Oh, say, I heard about your citation, Johnny. Congratulations," Dr. Brackett commended. Johnny groaned, he had somehow momentarily forgotten all about the stupid award and was now reminded of it by an unknowing Kel. "Did I say something wrong, fellas?" the doctor asked. "No, doc. Johnny, here, feels he doesn't deserve the citation, even though he came within seconds of losing his own life during the rescue," DeSoto replied. Kel's lip twitched. "Oh, right, I heard you weren't able to get the victim out of the car and I'm sorry. But Johnny, you still realize what you did, right?" "What I did? Yeah, I realize that, doc. I worked an overtime shift when I was beyond exhausted, and a young woman died because I didn't move quickly enough. Yeah, I know what I did," the dark haired paramedic muttered and walked away, the guilt over the incident reaching out to strangle him all over again. Dr. Brackett, Dixie and Roy looked on after him, neither one of them able to understand what he was feeling. "He really took it hard, doc, I mean the girl's death. Looks like he's still blaming himself so much, he can't see the heroic act he committed in his attempts to get her out," Roy said. "Kel, maybe you should have a talk with him," Dixie suggested, wondering if perhaps a third party could make the paramedic see that it wasn't his fault. "Yeah, Roy, let me know if you think it might help him. I mean, if he's still feeling down about this in another day or so, I would be happy to talk to him if he doesn't figure out for himself that he is not to blame for that girl's dying." "Sure, doc, thanks. I, ah, better get going, see you later." Both paramedics were starving as they reached the station, realizing it was nearly supper time and that they hadn't even had lunch yet. Marco was busy preparing their supper and as they sat down at the table, weary and hungry, the other men came over to make sure Johnny was okay. He assured them all he was. As they were talking, the phone rang and Gage jumped up to answer it, happy for the interruption. He hated being the center of attention. "Station 51, John Gage speaking," he replied. "You were lucky this time! But you're still gonna pay!" the caller rasped angrily over the phone. Gage held back the receiver and looked at it curiously. Then he saw that his crewmates were eyeing him, wondering about the call, and not wanting them to know that he had just been threatened for the second time, he held the receiver back up to his ear, replying, "Sorry, you have the wrong number." Then he quickly hung up the phone. "Everything okay?" Marco asked, noticing that the paramedic was visibly upset. Johnny lied, nodding, but his attention was still on the phone call, wondering who it was bothering him yet again. "Good," Chet said. "Then I guess you'll be going outside to see your, ah, little problem." Johnny glanced up at Chet, his reverie broken, and pointed his finger at him. He had forgotten all about their earlier conversation, before the fire call. "That's right!" Johnny replied and standing up quickly walked outside, followed by Roy, Chet, Marco and Mike. In the parking lot, Johnny looked around, confused. Everything looked the same to him. "Chet, well, what is it? What's the big mystery?" the dark haired paramedic asked. "What's the matter with you? Can't you see it?" "See what?" Johnny queried and followed Chet's gaze. "Oh no! No! Not again!" he cried out, looking over to Roy who had his head in his hand. The men then proceeded to walk over to Johnny's Land Rover, which unfortunately, had been viciously keyed up and down both sides, and along the hood. "I don't believe this!" Johnny replied, upset, walking around to the other side of the Rover. "Will you look at this? My car, it's...guys will you come here a second?" The four men walked around and glanced down at the side of Johnny's car, where he was pointing. Written there, by the keying, were the words, "HA HA HA!" "So somebody thinks this is funny?" Chet asked, infuriated. Even though he was the king of pranks towards Johnny, the stocky firefighter would never do anything to physically hurt his friend or cause damage to his property. This was disgusting and all the men felt badly for Gage. "Hey, Johnny, how 'bout I help you get a hold of your insurance company?" Mike asked. "My cousin runs an auto body shop, maybe you can take it there for repainting. I know he'll do a great job on your car, Johnny," Marco offered. "Hey, Gage, want me to call the cops for you and report this?" Chet questioned. Johnny just looked at the men, shaking his head. He could barely think, wondering what was going on today. Too much was happening, too much that was not making sense. Out of all the guys' cars in the lot, why was his the only one that was keyed? Who would do this at a fire station? It must be the same person who had been threatening him over the phone. But why? He looked at Roy, pleading for answers. "I really think you should call the police," DeSoto advised, not quite understanding this himself. The five men went back inside the station, where Johnny informed the captain about the damage to his vehicle and Chet called the police to report the keying incident. Mike found the phone number to Johnny's insurance company and the paramedic made a call to them. Just as they sat down to finally eat their dinner, the tones went off. Johnny slapped the table in frustration and got up with the others. "Engine 51, dumpster fire, 4763 Wellington, at the back, 4-7-6-3 Wellington, cross street Reardon, time out 18:07." Upon hearing the call was just for the engine crew, Roy and Johnny smiled and sat down to eat the great pot of chili that Marco had prepared. "You know, Roy, this is turning out to be a really weird day. First, I get up to come to work and I have a flat tire. Then, while at a fire, someone throws a rock through a window that hits me and now, I discover someone's keyed my Rover. Oh, yeah, almost forgot about the card that was on the seat of the squad after that heart attack call earlier," Johnny replied in between mouthfuls of chili, and purposely leaving out the part about the two bad phone calls he had received. "What card?" Roy asked, dipping his cracker in the chili and taking another bite. "The Ace of Spades that I found in the squad," Gage explained. Roy nearly choked on his food when he heard that. "What?" he replied, amongst a fit of coughing. "I said I found an Ace of Spades on the seat of the squad, almost forgot about that weird thing," Johnny repeated, not understanding why Roy reacted the way he did. "You never told me about that!" "Well, I didn't think it was such a big deal, Roy. I mean, I thought it was just kids, I mean, what is the big deal?" Gage asked, thoroughly confused. "Don't you know the significance? The meaning of the Ace of Spades?" the older man questioned. Johnny shook his head, amazed at the tone in his partner's voice. "The Ace of Spades is known as the 'Death Card'!" "The what?" "Johnny, you know me, I'm not a superstitious kind of guy, but I'm beginning to think something is going on here. I don't think what's been happening to you is all just mere coincidence," Roy stated, matter-of-factly. "Roy, don't you think you're over reacting just a tad?" Johnny asked. "I'm beginning to think you're watching too many detective shows on TV" "Maybe, but it does look to me like somebody out there doesn't like you, partner," Roy replied quietly, turning away, not wanting Johnny to notice how concerned he felt at the moment. "C'mon, Roy, I don't have any enemies. Well, maybe just Chet," Gage said nonchalantly, picking up the worry in his partner's voice, even with Roy's attempt to hide it. They both smiled at Johnny's attempt at humor, but inside, neither man was convinced that everything was all right. E!*E!*E!*E!*E! The engine crew had just arrived back after the dumpster fire and walked into the dayroom, hungry, glad that the paramedics had cleaned up and left the chili on the stove to keep warm. Johnny and Roy were outside speaking to a police officer who had come to the station to write up a report for Gage's  insurance company regarding the keying of his vehicle. They walked back inside while Cap, Marco, Mike and Chet were dishing out the chili. "Oh, officer, would you care for a bowl?" Marco asked the cop politely, but he shook his head. "Thanks, but I have to be going. Just show this to your insurance company and that should be sufficient for them to take care of it." Johnny thanked the officer and walked him out the door. Roy had wanted him to ask the cop if he thought something funny was going on, with all the strange things that had happened to Gage so far, but the younger paramedic had completely refused to make mention of anything else. It was all just bad luck, he was having an off day, he explained, and was not about to bother the policeman with it. So, Roy kept his thoughts to himself and joined his crew mates in the kitchen. "No calls so far tonight?" Cap asked Roy in between bites of chili. "No, it's been pretty quiet, thank God," DeSoto answered just as the telephone rang. "Geez, you had to mention 'calls'?" He got up to answer it, allowing the others to finish their meal. "Station 51, Fireman Roy DeSoto," the auburn haired medic said into the receiver. "Gage," was all the caller muttered. "One minute, please," Roy replied, frowning at the bluntness of the caller. But he put the phone down and walked out of the kitchen, where he found his partner sitting on the bumper of the squad, staring at the floor lost in thought. "Hey, Johnny, you've got a phone call," the older man said, frowning as he studied his partner. "I do? Who would be calling me here?" Gage asked, rather worriedly, not getting up. "How would I know? Why don't you come and answer it and maybe you'll find out?" Roy replied, and followed Johnny back into the kitchen where he picked up the phone. "Hello? John Gage speaking," the paramedic stated, holding his breath. Silence. "Hello? Is anybody there?" Johnny asked, now getting annoyed. He was about to hang up when he was met by a loud, very wicked sounding laugh on the other end. The pure evilness of the laugh caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. "Ha ha ha! You will pay! Ha ha ha ha! You will pay!" the caller whispered threateningly, then hung up the phone. "Who is this? What do you want?" Gage yelled into the receiver, but it was too late, the person was gone and all that was there was a dial tone. Johnny angrily slammed the phone back in place and began pacing up and down the floor in the day room. The five other men eyed him strangely and he stopped finally and sat down at the table. "Girlfriend of yours?" Chet kidded, trying to break the ice. "Very funny, Kelly. No. It was...I don't know who it was," Johnny snapped, anger filling his being. "Well, what'd they say?" Roy asked, looking at him curiously. The younger paramedic locked eyes with his partner, and opened his mouth to speak, then stopped suddenly, thinking better of it. 'If I tell them, Roy will only get worried and probably call the cops or something,' he thought, and quickly made up a lie. "Ah, it was the wrong number," he said before he could think of something else to say. "Wrong number? A wrong number gets a reaction outta you like that?" Chet replied, referring to the way Johnny had yelled into the phone and went on a pacing frenzy. "C'mon, Gage, you don't think we're stupid enough to believe that, do you?" "Out with it, Johnny. I answered the call and they asked for you specifically. Now tell us what they said," DeSoto demanded. Reluctantly, Johnny obliged and was met with looks of disbelief from the rest of the crew. Roy looked over at Hank and finally spoke. "I think we should call the police," DeSoto said, and Cap nodded his agreement. Johnny rolled his eyes. He'd known he would get this reaction from his partner. "What for? Just because I get a phone call? What exactly do you think the police are going to do? There's nothing...it's not like he threatened to kill me or anything..." "No, but he did make a mess outta your car, pal," Cap replied. "How do you know it was the same person? What if it was just kids...I mean a Land Rover is kinda an unusual looking car..." Johnny stated, but was interrupted as the tones suddenly went off. "Station 51, child trapped, 2134 Oceanview, 2-1-3-4 Oceanview, cross street Seaside, time out 19:22." The sun was just starting to get low in the sky as the emergency vehicles came to a stop in front of a very nice, new home with a meticulously landscaped front yard. A thirtysomething woman with light brown hair met them at the front door. "He's around back, please hurry," she replied and led them through the living room and kitchen out a sliding glass door into the back yard. "What's the problem, ma'am, we had a report of a child trapped," Captain Stanley asked. They walked out, following her as she crossed over the deck and squatted down, looking under it. "My son, Tommy, he's trapped under here, under the deck," she stated, pointing. "Ah, Mrs...." Johnny started. "Mrs. Whiteside." "Mrs. Whiteside, how did Tommy get under there? There can't be more than a foot between the top of this deck and the ground," Johnny observed as Cap ordered Marco and Chet to set up lighting so that they could see the child. "He went into the laundry room downstairs, where there's a window and crawled out, right under the deck. I had sent him to his room, for behaving badly, and I didn't even see him leave..." "Tommy! Tommy! We're from the Fire Department. Can you hear us?" Roy called out, kneeling, not seeing anything from the darkness. His only acknowledge was a frightened cry. "How old is the boy?" Johnny inquired. They could hear sounds of gasping coming out from the child. "He's six," Mrs. Whiteside said as Chet and Marco returned with the lights and set them up around the deck. "He must be stuck, he's wheezing pretty heavily," Roy noted. "He has asthma," the boy's mother informed them. Johnny and Roy looked at one another. "Sounds like he's having an attack, we better hurry," Gage said. "L.A. Engine 51, we have a small boy trapped under a wood deck, respond an ambulance to our location," Cap replied into his handie talkie. The lights now set up, the paramedics easily spotted the boy. He was approximately half way under the deck, crunched up under the wood. He was having a great deal of trouble breathing. "Cap, I don't think any of us will fit under there, we're gonna have to cut up the deck," Roy advised. "Oh, please, is there no other way? We just had this deck built two weeks ago..." Mrs. Whiteside pleaded, but was met with looks of disbelief from the firefighters. "Marco, get the K12 from the engine, Chet grab the oxygen from the squad," Cap ordered and the men went away running. Mike came back with Chet and Marco and started the K12, cutting away a portion of the deck nearest to where the boy lay. In a matter of seconds, they pulled him gently up, Johnny covering Tommy's face with an air mask, and Roy already on the biophone to Rampart. Mrs. Whiteside stood nearby, shaking her head at both the damage to her deck and the state of her son. "Rampart, this is Squad 51," DeSoto said into the receiver. "Go ahead, 51," said the voice they recognized as Dr. Mike Morton's. "Rampart, we have a young boy, age six, who was trapped under a deck. We pulled him out, he is on six liters of O2. He is suffering an asthma attack, stand by for vitals," the auburn haired medic stated. Johnny got the vitals and gave them to his partner, who repeated them to Dr. Morton. "51, start IV, TKO, administer 5 milligrams epinephrine, keep on oxygen and transport as soon as possible," were the orders from Dr. Morton. Gage started the IV and gave the medicine as the ambulance arrived. The child was placed on a stretcher and loaded into the vehicle, Johnny jumping in with him for transport. At the hospital, the two paramedics met up and waited a few minutes for Dr. Morton to advise them on the condition of the child. While they waited, they had coffee with Dixie. She was going to ask Gage more about his citation, but knew it would more than likely upset him again. The nurse really wanted to know that one of her favorite paramedics was not going to feel guilty over something he had no control over. Johnny glanced at his watch as the doctor exited the treatment room and walked over to them. "Dr. Morton, how's Tommy?" Roy asked, taking a sip from his coffee. "The boy is going to be just fine. Where is his mother?" Morton asked and left to speak to her after Dixie pointed her out to him. "Well, it's nearly 8:30, Roy, guess we should be going, have a nice night, Dix," Johnny said. "Oh, I will, I'm off in half an hour," she replied back, smiling, as the paramedics walked out of the hospital and headed for the squad. Johnny got in the squad next to Roy and made a face. "Wish I was off in half an hour," he muttered. "I know, hopefully, we'll have a slow night," Roy said and started the engine. As the two drove away, heading for the station, Roy suddenly looked down, then up at the steering wheel. "Hey, that's funny," he replied, frowning, and put his foot on the brake, attempting to slow the squad. Johnny heard tires screech as they rounded a bend, not slowing down at all, and his heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong, Roy?" "I think the brakes are gone!" DeSoto said, worry etched on his face as he made yet another unsuccessful attempt to stop the squad. "Yep, they're not working!" Johnny got on the mike. "L.A. Squad 51, we have a mechanical problem, may require assistance, will keep you advised," he muttered through clenched teeth as Roy made a fast right towards an empty lot. They hit the curb sharply, bounced along a few feet, then DeSoto made another hard right, pressing both his feet on the brake, using all his might. The action was sudden and caused them to stop, but without both paramedics being harshly jolted, Johnny slamming into his door. He made a moan in pain as Roy looked at him, confused. "Johnny, are you okay?" "Yeah, I think so, Roy, how about you?" he asked, rubbing his sore shoulder. "I'm all right. Better call for help," Roy replied, as Johnny got on the mike once again. continue