Winners and Losers Part 2 Johnny could barely contain his excitement. It seemed like Christmas in July. Roy was due back at work today. It had been a long six weeks of temporary partners, including Craig Brice far more frequently than Johnny would have liked. But, that horror was over for now. Oh, it wasn't as though Johnny hadn't been over to Roy's house during his recuperation. In fact, Johnny spent almost as much time at Roy's house as he had at his ranch. The warm spring and early summer weather of May and June encouraged grass growth. Johnny tried to help out by mowing every week, allowing JoAnne more time with Roy and the kids. Even though he had seen Roy as much as if they had been working together, Johnny was eager to return to status quo at work. Johnny even arrived early at the station that morning. He was dressed and sitting on the bench in front of his locker jiggling his leg in nervous anticipation. The door to the locker room swung open. Johnny started to surge to his feet, but he saw it was just Chet. He sat back on the wooden bench with a sigh. "What's going on, Johnny? You look like we're pulling an inspection from the Fire Chief." Chet opened his locker and got out a fresh uniform to replace the cut-offs wore into the station. "This is Roy's first day back." "No more Brice, huh?" "I sure hope not-for a long time!" The door swung open, again. This time it was Roy who entered the small room. "Hey Roy, how's it goin'?" Roy looked at Johnny with a quizzical stare. "About the same as yesterday, Johnny. You were at my house until nearly nine. How much could've changed in less than twelve hours?" Johnny grinned at his friend. "Not much, I guess. Just glad to have you back." Johnny watched as Roy changed into his uniform. Chet smiled as he watched the two paramedics. "Hey, Johnny. I may be winning that bet we made about PPP, Inc. back in April. Dave from C-shift said the factory is up and running." "Great, then I'll be getting some extra money in about four weeks. That was the bet, wasn't it? We'd be called out within four weeks of the start of production?" "You got it." Chet turned to Roy. "You still got our money?" "Sure, Chet. It's right here." Roy pulled it out of a pair of socks from his locker. "Why don't you leave it in your billfold?" "You don't want me to spend it, do you?" "No. But, in your socks? Are they at least clean?" "Of course they're clean, Chet." Roy smiled and shook his head as he replaced the money in the socks. Hank's voice could be heard from the apparatus bay, "Roll call!" Chet slammed his locker and hurried for the door. He was determined to be prompt and try to avoid latrine duty. Too bad Gage's on time. He slid to a stop beside Marco and Mike, who had been in the kitchen. When Roy and Johnny joined the group, Hank started with a few announcements. "Some of you may have heard that the plastics plant using phosgene gas is in operation." He saw a few heads nod. "In order to make responses there as easy and safe as possible, Mr. Crail is coming by again this afternoon to share floor plans and the specifics of their fire response plan." "That sure sounds like a great idea, Cap." Chet didn't think it was ever a bad idea to agree with a superior. It may just get him out of extra duties. "He'll be here around two. And, next week our shift will be doing their first fire inspection." Hank consulted his clipboard. "Now, for the station duties: Roy, latrine; Johnny, dorm and rec room; Marco, cooking; Mike, hang hose; Chet, apparatus bay and then help with hose. C-shift had a fire late on their shift and left lots of hose that needs drained and replaced on the engine bed. Dismissed." While Hank claimed a cup of coffee from the kitchen and disappeared in his office, Roy and Johnny fell into their normal routine of checking out equipment and supply levels. Everything was in good working order, and their supplies were adequate. They split up to complete their respective station duties. Johnny sighed as the safe and comforting feelings of a routine shift with Roy back on the job flooded his being. As routine shifts go the paramedics were soon on their way to their first victim of the day. The dispatcher sent them to a construction accident with Engine 15. It was a site on the edge of their district. So, the trip required nearly thirty minutes to complete. Captain Davis from the engine ran to meet them. "We've got a construction worker trapped between two I-beams. We didn't want to move either one until you guys got here. I was afraid we'd hurt him worse. He's been complaining of some belly pain. That's where he's pinned." Johnny and Roy collected equipment as Davis filled them in. The ambulance attendants were standing by with the gurney. The situation sounded desperate to the two paramedics. Once the beam was moved, they would have to wrap and run with the victim. He would need the full support of the hospital environment. As they got closer to the skeleton of iron girders that stretched up at least three stories they could see a group of construction workers gathered around one of the corner posts. The beige turnout coats of the engine crew were scattered among the workers. The group parted like the Red Sea before Moses as the paramedics approached. Johnny's heart sank as he got his first good look at the trapped man. This is not gonna be purty. Roy sat down his equipment and glanced at his partner with a very worried look. The entire situation was dangerous. He moved closer to the worker who was the center of everyone's attention. Roy picked up the man's wrist. The man's eyes fluttered open. Roy favored him with a warm smile. "Hi, my name's Roy, and this is my partner, Johnny. We're gonna get you down and get you to the hospital." Roy paused. The man was breathing rapidly. "What's your name? "D…Dan," he gasped. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on breathing. "Well, Dan. I'm gonna get your blood pressure. Are you having any pain?" "No..not really." He panted. "I don'…don't know…why I …I'm not…hurtin'…more." Johnny was inspecting the beams that held the worker like a slab of bologna in a sandwich. "Well, Dan. The beams may be acting like a tourniquet against bleeding and pain. We'll take whatever help we can get with this situation." Johnny tried to keep his tone light. He knew that fear and anxiety would send Dan's condition diving down the drain. Roy jotted down the vital signs he gathered. He popped open the lid on their orange radio box after he moved the box to the back of the group of construction workers gathered around. Dan didn't need to hear what he said to the doctor at Rampart. Doctor Morton took the call and reminded Roy that the beam was probably keeping the man from bleeding to death. He ordered shock pants as soon as the beam was released. The paramedics were to place two IV's with Ringer's solution wide open before moving the beam. Roy moved the radio back to the area next to Dan. He passed on Morton's orders to Johnny and retrieved the MAST suit. When Johnny had the IVs established, he handed off the bags to an ambulance attendant. He conferred with Captain Davis. They and Roy decided to position one ambulance attendant and one paramedic on each side of Dan. Then, the crane that had been connected to the cable on the beam would pull the beam off. The four men would lower him to the gurney, put on the shock trousers, and get him on his way to Rampart as quickly as possible. The procedure went fairly much as planned. The beam came off of Dan on an angle instead of in a straight line and clipped Johnny in the shoulder as he knelt beside Dan's right leg. Ignoring his pain, Johnny scrambled back to his feet and grabbed the right leg that was his responsibility in the transfer of Dan to the gurney. Dan's skin was pale, clammy, and cool before the beam was removed. By the time he was lowered to the cot, he was gray with blue-tinged lips and unconscious. Roy and Johnny worked feverishly to get the special trousers in place and the air bladders filled. The four men carried the stretcher over the uneven dirt surrounding the site. Captain Davis and his men carried the paramedic equipment back to the squad. Johnny winced as he used both hands to help guide the stretcher into the back of the rig. Roy caught the sign of pain on his partner's face. "I'll ride in with him. Can you drive the squad?" "No problem, Roy." "Your shoulder's okay?" "Yeah, just bruised." Johnny flexed his shoulder slightly. "Well, get it checked," Roy ordered before climbing into the ambulance. He didn't want to take the time to argue about Johnny's shoulder. Dan needed to be at Rampart ASAP. Roy was still looking at Johnny when the attendant slammed the rear doors shut. He clearly saw Johnny rubbing his shoulder. Probably more than a bruise. Picking up one of the remaining boxes, Johnny lifted it into its compartment. As usual, he downplayed his injury to his partner. The shoulder hurt pretty badly. He didn't think it was dislocated or broken. Slowly, he finished replacing the equipment. He climbed into the squad. Turning over the engine was easy. But, getting the transmission engaged proved a little more difficult. With a bit of contortionist movements, Johnny was able to get it in drive with his left arm. He kept a foot on the brake, while he tucked his hand into the space between his shirt buttons. The shoulder felt a lot better with the arm braced. Despite the lights and sirens, Johnny was a full five minutes behind the ambulance pulling into Rampart. He decided against backing the squad into the parking spot. With a grunt of pain, Johnny managed to get the transmission back into park. Guess I'd better get this looked at. I won't be much good in a rescue with my arm tucked in my shirt. Johnny slid out of the squad and turned to grab the walkie talkie from the seat. He reported his location to dispatch. Sighing, he walked into the emergency department. It was early in the day, so the area was quiet. Tammy spotted him as he rounded the corner. She was finishing up some paperwork at the nurse's station on the last patient she admitted. Scooping the papers together, she pinched them back into the metal chart and slid into the appropriate slot. She turned and noticed that her favorite paramedic had his hand tucked in his shirt. "What happened to your arm, Johnny?" "Got clipped by an I-beam on the last rescue." Tammy nodded. "I saw him being brought in. He didn't look too good." "He was pretty shocky at the site." "Well, let's see, Treatment Room Four is open. Why don't we get you settled in there?" Tammy wrapped her arm around his waist and walked with him. Johnny smiled. "You know. I think I'm feeling better all ready."  She pushed open the door and held it for Johnny. "Jump up on the table, fireman. You need any help taking your shirt off?" "You've been waiting for any excuse to ask me that, haven't you?" Johnny's face split, as his crooked grin widen. She unbuttoned his blue uniform shirt. "No blood, yet." "That's comforting." He grimaced as she worked his T-shirt up and over his shoulders and head. Despite his best effort, a small groan escaped as he moved his shoulder and arm up to get the shirt off. "Still no frank bleeding, but it looks like you're gonna have a bruise to show off to all of your friends." She lightly traced the light blue area of swelling that indicated where the I-beam slammed into Johnny's shoulder. "I really didn't need to have a bruise to show off." Johnny gingerly felt of his shoulder, too. "Damn, and Roy just came back to work today." "I'll get some ice. That should help with the pain and reduce the bruising." She looked over her shoulder to be sure they were alone. She kissed him and left to get an ice pack. Johnny knew that Dr. Morton would be busy with the construction worker, along with most of the emergency room staff. He jumped down and worked the foot pedals for the table to raise the head of it. When he had it at the level he wanted, he retrieved a pillow and a blanket from the closet. Might as well get comfortable. Hopping back on the table, Johnny swung his legs up and settled down for a wait. Tammy found Johnny drowsing when she came back in with the ice. She rubbed his arm, so he would know she was back. She gently set the ice on his shoulder. "I let Dr. Early know you needed to be seen. And, Roy's finishing his paperwork, then he'll be in." "Thanks, Tammy." She pulled up a stool and started getting a set of vital signs for the chart she was starting for Johnny's injury. "Pressure's just a little high. Must be the pain. Pulse slightly rapid. Respirations normal." "I think my pulse and blood pressure are up for another reason, too." Johnny said, smiling at his girlfriend. "Couldn't be. I have a calming influence on most patients." "I guess I'm not most patients." The door swung open, admitting Roy to the room. Looking at the couple, he thought, they sure do love each other. "How's the shoulder, Johnny?" Johnny flexed his arm and shoulder slightly. "The ice pack seems to be helping. I got a pretty good bruise." Roy walked over to the table. He peeked under the ice pack. "Yep, nice bruise. I saw Dr. Early come out of Dan's room just as I was coming in here. He should be in here pretty quick." Tammy gathered the papers she was working on. "I'll go update him. Be right back." "Looks like you've got your own private nurse," Roy joked with his partner. "Just one of the many perks, my friend." Johnny rested back with a huge grin. Doctor Early entered the treatment room with a smile. "So, how's the arm, Johnny? I heard you got in the way of the I-beam." "Well, I'm not sure who or what got in the way, but I got a sore shoulder out of the deal." Johnny laughed. "I don't imagine the steel girder's feeling much pain." Early chuckled. "Probably not. Let's see what we got." He had Johnny move his shoulder through its normal range of motion while feeling for any shifts in the muscles or bones. He fingered the bruise that was getting progressively darker. "Well, looks like you just bruised it." "Can I go back on duty, Doc?" Johnny waited anxiously for Dr. Early's answer. "I don't see why not. I'll give ya a script for ibuprofen. Keep the ice on it. And, try to take it easy." "Thanks, Doc." Johnny grabbed his T-shirt and started threading his arms and skinny torso into it. By the time he had his uniform shirt buttoned and tucked into his pants, Dr. Early had the prescription ready for Johnny to get filled. "Take one every six hours as needed." Early made a few more notes on Johnny's chart. "Well, I got other patients to see. Take it easy, guys." "Thanks again, Doc." Johnny turned to his partner. "Man, I thought I'd have to go home, and here it is your first day back." Roy looked at him skeptically. "You sure you can handle whatever comes along for the rest of the shift?" Johnny shifted his shoulder and arm. "Yeah, I'll keep some ice on it. Should be okay." Roy didn't look convinced. "Okay, Junior. Let's get back to the station." *~<~E!~>~* Mister Crail was on time for the two o'clock meeting, but the squad and engine were out on a fire call. They were backing up 110's on a house fire. Fortunately, the family had gone shopping and weren't home. The house, however, was a total loss. About half past two o'clock, the vehicles returned to the station. Hank waved at Mr. Crail as the engine backed into the apparatus bay. He hopped down and extended his hand in greeting to the engineer. "Hello, Mr. Crail. We got held up at a fire. Come on in and we'll have our meeting in just a few minutes. The crew will need to take showers, or they'll smell like smoke. So, relax and we'll be with you in a few moments." "Thanks, Captain. Take your time. I'm sure a shower would make everyone more comfortable." Mister Crail made himself comfortable. Soon the six men were looking, and smelling, much better. They gathered to listen to the engineer after getting something to drink. Gerry handed out a copy of the floor plans for the facility as well as the evacuation and fire response plans. He propped up an enlarged picture of the floor plans on the chalk tray on the chalkboard. "Gentlemen, I'm happy to report that the factory is up and running. We're starting each of three different lines that produce plastic at seven-day intervals. Each production line has its own fire response team. And, each work station and all of the hallways have storage lockers with air masks in case of a phosgene leak." Mister Crail turned to the floor plan. "Each production line has been built to be easily accessible to outside exits for evacuation." He traced the production lines and routes to exits. "The phosgene gas is produced and stored near the center of the plant. The hydrochloric acid is temporarily stored in large vats on one end of the building. It's treated to increase its pH and transferred to tankers for transport from that location." Gerry paused to take a well-deserved deep breath. "Any questions?" Captain Stanley looked around at his men. Each had a thoughtful look on his face, but no one offered any questions. "Well, Mr. Crail. Thank you for that information. We'll be sure to share it with the rest of the shifts." He looked at the rest of the crew, again. "I guess we don't have any questions. I have your card on my desk, if we come up with any concerns." Stanley stood to accompany Jerry out of the station. "Great. It was good to see all of you, again." Gerry followed Hank to the front of the station. Chet waited until Mr. Crail left the room. "I still can't believe he's so calm about such dangerous chemicals." "He's probably used to 'em, Chet. He works with them all the time," Johnny said. "I don't think I could do it." "No Chet, you just go into burning buildings while everyone else is running out." "Yeah, but I only go in with a hose full of water." Chet defended his actions. "Hey, Marco, what's for supper? I'm starving." "I'm making enchiladas, refried beans, and Spanish rice." "We'll have to keep the fire extinguishers close for that meal!" *~<~E!~>~* As if fated, Marco was just setting the enchiladas on the table when the tones for Station 51 rang through the building. "Station 51, Station 110. Traffic accident with injuries. Highway 405 south bound near the Ventura exit. Highway 405 south bound near the Ventura exit. Time out sixteen, forty-seven." "Station 51, Ten-four, KMG 365." Hank joined Mike in the front seats of the engine, and the vehicles left for the scene. The traffic wasn't as bad as rush hour on a weekday. But, the weather was beautiful, and people were out in force on a Saturday. The drivers who weren't looking for or listening for the emergency vehicles frustrated Roy and Mike as they threaded their way slowly through the motorists. As they neared the area on the highway described by the dispatcher, Roy drove on the berm to get to the accident site. Traffic was backed up on the freeway for a good half-mile. People were out of their cars, trying to find out what was holding up traffic flow. From his elevated position in the squad, Roy could see the tanker and tops of cars that were haphazardly strewn about. He could see thin trails of smoke above the tanker. Please don't let that be a fuel tanker! Finally, Roy was directed to the side of the road by a California Highway Patrol officer, who also indicated to Mike where the engine should be parked. Shutting down the sirens, Roy could hear the thin wail of sirens from the engine and squad from 110. With a quick count he could see at least eight cars involved beside the tanker. Roy pulled on his turnout and ran over to where Captain Stanley was talking to the CHiPs officer. Sergeant Walker was giving Stanley the short version of what happened. "Witnesses say the tanker was changing lanes, when a speeding car tried to slide into the same space that the tanker was going for. They got tangled and several other cars got into the action just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We've had our hands full trying to keep traffic from making it worse. So, we haven't had time to check out very many cars." "Do we know what's in the tanker?" "Driver's unconscious. We didn't have time to check out his manifest. It didn't appear to be leaking, so we left it alone." "Thanks, Sergeant." Stanley turned to his men. Chet run the reel line and spray down any gas you find. Marco pull the battery cables. John and Roy check for victims. Start with the tanker driver. We need to find out what he's hauling." Stanley pulled his walkie talkie from his pocket as he walked closer to the tanker. "Dispatch, Engine 51. We need information on a tanker. The company is Braxton Brothers Hauling, Incorporated. Tanker number 324." "Ten-four, Station 51." Johnny and Roy hauled the stokes stretcher to the ground near the tanker cab. The cab was tipped on a forty-five degree angle with the driver's side nearer the ground. Johnny climbed up the crooked metal and stuck his hand through the half-open window. The driver was leaning against the door. Groping through the fat on the man's generous neck, Johnny could feel a pulse that was steady. "He's got a good pulse, Roy. But, he has lots of facial lacerations, and he's leaning against the door. I'll climb up and hold him up, so you can get the door open." "Be careful, his legs may be trapped, too." Stanley walked around the tilted tanker. The rear axles were setting on the ground, but midway down the long round tank, a car was wedged under the carriage near the front axles. The car's occupant ducked down before the impact. He was helped from his car by the CHiP officer through the back seat and door. Except for some cuts and bruises, he was fine. At the rear of the tanker Stanley spotted the placards that helped give him some clues as to what the tanker contained. The first diamond indicated a substance that was lethal to humans, not flammable, and unstable at high temperatures. A second placard indicated the tank held a corrosive substance, while the third designated a poison. The tanker was under a lot of strain, twisting over the car. He knew that the sooner they could get the tanker back to its usual state the better. Looking more like a monkey than a man, Johnny made his way up behind the tanker's cab and across to the passenger side that was tilted up to the sky. His shoulder gave him a few twinges as he climbed. He wiped sweat from his brow before wrenching the passenger door open. He searched the cab for a place to put his feet. He settled on the base of the gear box between the driver and passenger seats and the back of the seat near the driver. Once his feet were braced, he felt down the man's legs to be sure they were free. Johnny reached down and grabbed the driver's belt and shirt collar. As heavy as the man was, Johnny was certain he would only be able to hold him in place until Roy propped the stokes in place to lower him into it. "Ready, Roy?" Roy grabbed onto the door handle. He started to twist it to see if it would move. It did. "Ready, Johnny." "Okay, here we go." Johnny grunted as he pulled on the driver's clothing. Roy heard the door creak slightly as Johnny took the driver's weight off of it. He wrenched the door handle and stepped out of the way as it swung down. With the stokes propped up against the driver's seat, he reached up to help guide the heavyset man into the wire basket. "I got him, Johnny." Roy grunted as Johnny let the driver's body slide down toward Roy. Johnny let go of the man's collar, but kept a grip on his belt. That way Roy wouldn't have to bear all of the man's weight. Johnny shifted his feet to either side of the door frame to move down with the driver's body. As he worked with Roy to get the driver clear of the bent rig, he heard some ominous metal popping and groaning sounds-like metal being stressed to its breaking point. "Okay, Johnny, he's in the stokes." Roy straightened and stretched his back. Johnny jumped down beside the stokes. He rubbed his right shoulder. It was complaining slightly from holding the driver's weight. Roy saw him rubbing his arm. "How's the shoulder?"   "It's fine, Roy. Just aching a little." Johnny indicated the man in the stokes. "He's a little heavy." Hearing more metal stress from the tanker, Johnny turned to check out the tanker for leaks. Roy turned his attention to the driver. Several facial lacerations left bloody trails across his craggy face. He grabbed the blood pressure cuff and started collecting vital signs. He glanced at Johnny occasionally. Roy heard the popping and groaning, also. If the tanker was leaking, they needed to get themselves and the victim farther away. Johnny reached the back of the tanker and ran into Captain Stanley inspecting the truck from the other side. "See any leaks, Cap?" "Not yet. Is the driver out?" "Yeah, Roy's checking him out." "Can the driver tell us what he's haulin'?" "No, he's still unconscious. You find out anything?" "Only information I have're the warning placards. Looks like nasty stuff. I hope it doesn't pop open anywhere." "Me too, Cap." Johnny also saw the warning placards. "I'd better get back and help Roy." When Johnny squatted down next to Roy, Roy glanced up at him. "Any idea what's in the tanker?" "Nope, it's just nasty." Roy looked at the twisted shape. "I hope it stays inside!" "Me, too, Roy." Johnny opened up the biophone. He contacted Rampart and read off the information that Roy jotted down. "Start an IV of D5W and transport. Keep an eye on his neuro status," Doctor Early ordered. "Ten-four, County 51 out." Johnny placed the handset back in the box. He heard another shriek from the tanker. Then, his ears picked out a dripping noise from the rest of the cacophony surrounding the crash site. "Roy, I think the tanker started leaking." Johnny moved to help Roy get the driver away from the tanker. Stanley also heard the drip of liquid on concrete. He scanned the tanker and spotted the leak just behind the truck cab, where the rig was twisted the most severely. The liquid steamed or smoked lightly as it collected. Stanley whistled to Chet, who was still using the reel line around the vehicles. When he had Chet's attention, he motioned him over to dilute the leaking fluid. Small splatters of liquid hit his pants and shoes. When Johnny squatted down to pick up his end of the stokes, he was closest to the leaking fluid. A pungent odor invaded his nose and burned his throat. The puddle of fluid was getting larger, and as drops increased their pace, the liquid splashed up on his pants. Where larger drops hit his pants, he could feel his skin burning. "C'mon Roy, this stuff is splashing on me." Johnny took a deep breath before rising from a squat. The burning in his throat and nose increased. He coughed to help rid his lungs of the acrid odor. Roy was farther away from the leak and didn't smell it. He hauled the stokes over to the side of the highway. Leaving Johnny with the victim, Roy retrieved the boxes they left beside the tanker. The leak was getting bigger. Chet reached the tanker and was washing the liquid across the pavement to dilute it. The water diluted the odor, too. Roy could barely feel a strange scent tickle his nose. He went back to the stokes. Johnny was setting up the IV that Rampart ordered. Roy had gotten the equipment out of the drug box before they had to evacuate the area beside the tanker. Johnny's cough was more frequent. "Are you okay, Junior?" "I think…(cough) I got some vapor from …(cough) the tanker." Roy took the IV cannula from Johnny and got the IV established on their victim. Turning to Johnny, he could see that Johnny was using a lot of energy trying to get air into his lungs. He reached for the oxygen. "C'mon, let's try some O2." Johnny nodded his agreement. The coughing was tiring him out. His throat was becoming raw. He eagerly reached for the oxygen mask that Roy held out to him. "Did you get a lungful of that odor from the leak?" Johnny nodded, again, reluctant to talk and lose any of the oxygen he was working so hard to get into his system. He watched Roy contact Rampart about what happened after collecting vital signs. Doctor Early ordered to continue oxygen and monitor respiratory status. Roy turned his attention back to the driver, who was beginning to come around. The driver opened his eyes and groaned as all of the sore places in his body made themselves known. He flexed his hands and tried to move his arms, but straps held them down. "Hey, what's going on?" He struggled against the restraints. "Welcome back." Roy bent over the driver. "You were in an accident. We got you out of your truck." "Is the cargo okay?" "Actually the tanker started leaking a few minutes ago. What're you hauling?" "It's hydrochloric acid. I just started hauling from that new plastics plant. The pH has been adjusted up to four. But, it's still pretty acidic. Better watch out." The driver relaxed back in the stokes. "Johnny, I'm gonna go tell Cap what's in the tanker. You doin' okay?" Johnny was still holding the oxygen mask, but he was breathing much easier. He waved Roy on. Roy found Captain Stanley keeping a watch on the tanker leak. Chet was rinsing the area with lots of water. "Hey Cap. The driver woke up. He said he's haulin' acid, hydrochloric. He said it's from that plastics factory and it's been adjusted to a pH of four." "Thanks, Roy. That'll help. I've called for a replacement tanker. It should be here soon." "I'm going in with the ambulance. Johnny got a lung-full of vapor from the leak before we moved away. So, he'll be riding in, too." "Okay, Roy. We'll get the squad in as soon as we can." As Roy neared the tanker driver the ambulance crew pulled the gurney out of the rig. Roy checked the IV site. "He's ready to load." Roy moved next to Johnny. "How're you doing, Johnny?" "A lot better," Johnny said taking the mask off. "Put that back on." Johnny pushed Roy's hand away when he tried to replace the mask. "I said I'm fine." "But, you're going in to get checked out." "Fine, I'll get checked out." Johnny stood and made his way to the ambulance. Roy followed him with the oxygen, drug box, and biophone. He waited for Johnny to climb in. When Johnny's legs flashed by, Roy saw that the acid had eaten some fairly large holes in the material. Roy shoved the equipment into the ambulance and hauled himself in after it. *~<~E!~>~* "I can't believe Early let you come back to work. You could barely breathe." Johnny grinned at his partner. "Some people are just lucky, I guess." "Yeah, lucky." Roy was surprised when the chest x-ray and arterial blood gas readings were normal. Johnny didn't needed oxygen on the way in to Rampart. The holes in his uniform pants foretold of smaller, shallow holes in Johnny's skin from splashing acid. "Tammy didn't seem surprised to see you." "I guess she's getting used to me arriving with victims." "You mean 'as a victim'." "Call it what you will, Roy." Johnny rubbed his growling stomach. "I hope they left us some enchiladas." "Me, too," Roy replied as his own stomach growled. *~<~E!~>~* "Roy, get that money out of your sock," Chet greeted the tired paramedics as they entered the rec room. "Whatta ya talkin' about, Chet." Johnny walked to the oven and looked for leftovers. "That truck was haulin' for PPP, Inc. So, we've had our first run for the plastic factory, and in the first week they're up and running, too." "We didn't have a call to the factory. That was the bet, Chet-a call to the factory, not a truck haulin' waste." "It's still a call that has to do with the plastic factory." Johnny grabbed some oven mitts and pulled the pan of enchiladas out of the oven. "Let's have Roy settle this, Chet." "Not Roy, he'll agree with you. Let's let Mike decide." Chet scurried off to find the quiet engineer and make his case. He was back with a hang-dog look on his face in a few moments. "He said it didn't qualify. But, I bet we respond to a problem at that plant really soon. I'm not looking forward to it. The whole thing gives me the willies." Roy and Johnny just shook their heads at the energetic Irishman as they got themselves around as much of Marco's food as they could. They knew that a run to the plastic factory would be dangerous, but they had seen the precautions the company had taken. Hopefully, the measures they had in place would take the edge off of any disaster. *~<~E!~>~* Johnny rolled over and stretched. His reaching arm ran into another body. His eyes popped open before he remembered that Tammy spent the night. It was late when they got back from riding the horses. He grinned and wrapped an arm around her as he snuggled next to her. No reason to wake her up. It was still dark outside. They planned a relaxing day at the beach for today. Nearly three hours later, Tammy and Johnny were awake and eating breakfast after sharing an interesting, and shared, shower. Johnny was playing cook. He prepared a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. They both had ravenous appetites, and breakfast was soon finished. While Tammy cleaned up the kitchen, Johnny packed a bag for the beach. They split up chores at the barn. With eager smiles they piled into the Rover to run down to the beach, driving up to Malibu for a change. The beach was usually less crowded there. Tammy and Johnny were looking forward to a relaxing day of sand and sun. They found a parking space without much searching. Johnny carried the heavy cooler and unwieldy umbrella. Tammy followed with the bag of towels and a blanket. They walked about a quarter of a mile down the beach to get to a people-free area. She spread out the blanket, while Johnny planted the base of the umbrella to provide maximum coverage over the blanket. The late morning sun was warm, and getting warmer. The Los Angeles area enjoyed a particularly warm late spring and early summer. In fact, the squad responded to at least one heat stroke call per shift. Johnny had no intention of being a victim of heat stroke at the beach. He and Tammy quickly stripped to their swimsuits and slipped into the cool Pacific Ocean. They swam about a hundred yards down the shoreline and back. Taking a break, they let the waves carry them to the beach. Running to the blanket, they helped each other dry off. Tammy pulled some pop out of the cooler. "Here's a pop, Johnny." "Thanks, Tammy." He took a swig of cola. "Can I put some oil on your back?" "Let me put some on your back, first." "But, then I can't relax until I get your back done." "You're catching on pretty fast today, Johnny. Evidently, breakfast is the most important meal of the day for a well-functioning brain." Tammy giggled as she held the oil bottle and motioned for him to turn around. Johnny grinned back at her. He just couldn't say no to her. He turned around and let her apply the oil first. It did feel good. All too soon Tammy was finished. She nudged his shoulder and handed off the oil. When Tammy was comfortable under the shade of the umbrella, Johnny drizzled oil and massaged her smooth, tan shoulders. She sighed. While Tammy rested and napped on the warm sand, Johnny did some people watching. He watched a couple of kids frolicking in the waves at the edge of the beach. They laughed and squealed as the small waves chased them up and down the beach. Johnny heard feet pounded the ground. Turning to his left, he saw a young guy jogging down the beach on the hard-packed sand. The guy was weaving slightly as he approached the beach in front of Johnny and Tammy. As he got closer, Johnny saw the rings of sweat on his t-shirt. He's working on a heat stroke, Johnny thought as he silently watched the man jog by his blanket. He continued to watch the runner as he headed down the beach. The man didn't seem to see the kids playing and nearly ran into one of them. The children's mother grabbed the older child and glared at the jogger. Johnny turned his attention to the waves and seagulls. He heard someone scream, and turned to look down the beach. Some teenagers that had been playing volleyball were now gathered around someone lying on the sand. When Johnny stood up to go see if he could help, he saw it was the jogger that just passed by. Tammy also heard the scream and scrambled after Johnny. Sliding to a stop near the unconscious runner, Johnny asked the crowd to step back. He also asked someone to call the fire department. Johnny ran his hands down the man's extremities to be sure there weren't any broken bones. As crumpled as the man was when he landed, fractures were possible. One important sign that Johnny did notice in his initial survey was the hot, dry skin on all of his extremities. "Tammy, go get some water and ice from our cooler. He's overheated." Johnny grasped the jogger's shoulder and hip and turned him gently onto his back. He gathered pulse and respiration rates-both a little rapid. Tammy returned by then. They dipped their towels in the cool water and draped them over the runner's chest, groin, and forehead. When the towels warmed up, they rewet them in the icy water from the cooler. After a few minutes, the man started coming around. Johnny started reassuring him that he was going to be okay and to relax. He finally opened his eyes. "Welcome back, buddy. What's your name?" "It's, ah, Ted." The jogger looked around at all of the people gathered around him. "What happened?" "You, ah, got overheated and fainted." Johnny got a bottle of water out of the cooler. "Let's try some water." He helped Ted sit up and get a drink of water. "We had someone call the fire department. They should be here in a few minutes." "I don't need any fire department. Jus' gimme a few minutes and I'll be fine." He pulled the towels off of his body and handed them to Tammy. "I think you should get checked out at the hospital." "So what? Who are you?" "My name's Johnny, and I'm a paramedic in LA county." "Big deal. I'll be jus' fine." Ted took another sip of water. "I jus' didn't drink enough water before I got started today." "I still think you should get checked out." "Well, I don't. But, hey, thanks for the help and the water." He grinned to take the edge off of his harsh words. After a few more minutes, he stood on shaky legs and started down the beach. Ted didn't resume running, but he kept up a steady pace. He was out of sight around a rocky outcrop by the time the paramedics trudged down to the beach looking for the victim. Johnny met them about half way down to the water. "The guy that fainted recovered and headed on down the beach." "So, is this some kind of prank, Mister?" The older partner sarcastically asked Johnny. "No, there was someone unconscious. But, he revived after I cooled him off with some wet towels." "Must not have been too bad off. You know, calls like these keep us from the people who really need our services." The older paramedic glared at Johnny. "Well, I tried to talk him into waiting, but he wouldn't stay. I don't know what else I can say." Johnny glared back at the unfriendly firefighter. "C'mon, Brian. Let's get back on service." The younger partner tried to defuse the situation. "Yeah, let's go. There's nothing for us to do here." Brian turned for one last quip. "Don't call again, unless it's a real emergency!" Tammy and Johnny walked back to their blanket. Johnny shook his head. "I don't understand why he was so rude. The cap ever heard us talking like that to someone, we'd be written up." "Maybe he's had a bad day." "Bad day's no excuse. I just wish that if people didn't like their job, they would find one they did like." "C'mon, Johnny. Let's go swimming and then get some lunch." Johnny decided not to let the rude paramedic ruin his day. He thought a moment. "Let's eat first. I'm starving!" "You're always starving. I swear you have a hollow leg." "And, it's empty." Johnny opened the cooler and started pulling out food. Tammy spread their towels across the umbrella to dry while they ate. The meal didn't take long. Johnny and Tammy were both used to eating quickly and returning to their respective jobs. Unfortunately, that conditioning carried over into their non-work time. As they ate the brownies that Tammy made for dessert, they watched sandpipers running to and fro ahead of the waves. Johnny wiped crumbs from his fingers and jumped to his feet. "Okay, I'm ready to swim." He pulled Tammy to her feet, and they ran into the ocean. With strong, broad strokes they swam parallel to the beach, staying about thirty yards out. The waves weren't quite as high there. Johnny slowed and treaded water as Tammy caught up. She was only a few feet behind him. They were both breathing hard and ready for a break. Johnny felt a small twinge in his side. He used one hand to knead the cramp. It wasn't getting any better. He started to suggest they head for the beach when a hard cramp doubled him over and sent his head below the surface. The pain caused a reflex sharp intake of air, but with his head underwater, water went in instead of air. Oh crap. Johnny could barely think of what he needed to do. The combination of pain and the lack of oxygen kept him from working his way up to the surface. He looked around, trying to figure out which way was up. In the water, the directions all seemed the same. It was green-colored water everywhere he looked. The spasm in his side let up, but Johnny desperately needed some air. His lungs were burning. His mind screamed at him to inhale. He felt a tug on his arm, pulling him backwards. Then, his neck was caught in the crook of someone's arm. His muddled mind finally came up with a name, Tammy. *~<~E!~>~* She had just reached Johnny and saw a look of pain cross his face. She was getting ready to say something when his head disappeared. Tammy took a deep breath and dived after him. She saw him sinking slowly in a fetal position. Kicking her legs, she reached him and pulled on his arm to get him started up. When she was closer, she got her arm around his neck and stroked to the surface. Tammy broke through and took a deep breath. She pulled Johnny up beside her. She kept his head up and was relieved to see him breathing on his own. He coughed and sputtered between breaths. She pulled him along to the water's edge. Crawling, Tammy dragged him onto the beach. She turned him to his side. *~<~E!~>~* Johnny felt the water run off his face as he broke through the surface of the ocean. He tried to get a lung full of air and found his throat was constricted. Coughing, he gasped a little air into his oxygen-starved lungs. Each bit of oxygen-rich air he pulled into his lungs took extreme effort as he moved the air past the spasms in his larynx. The efforts sapped his energy, leaving him weak as a kitten. The relentless ocean waves moved him farther up the beach, while he worked to keep his head up out of the surging water. Johnny felt Tammy's arms helping pull him out of the water, also. The coughing was getting more powerful, and the spasms were relenting. Johnny opened his eyes to see Tammy's worried face leaning close to him. "Johnny, are you getting enough air?" She waited for him to indicate his answer with a nod or shake of his head. He nodded. "Do you think you can walk?" He nodded again. She slipped her arms under his and helped him to his feet. Using her strong arms to steady himself, Johnny made his way back to their umbrella and blanket. "Thanks, Tammy," he said as they reached the blanket, and he dropped on to it. He was still coughing occasionally, but overall was feeling more normal. "It looked like you got a cramp." "Yeah, it was just a twinge at first, but then it really hit. I wasn't expecting it." He looked over at the woman he was beginning to love. "Thanks." He leaned over and gave her a heartfelt kiss. "Your welcome," she assured him when they finally parted. She looked around the beach. People were beginning to pack up to go home. Squinting into the sun, she estimated it to be around five in the afternoon. "Shall we go home? I've had enough adventure for the day. How about you?" Johnny nodded. "Yeah, plenty." He got to his feet and helped gather their belongings. It didn't take long to load up the Rover, drive home, and unload the beach supplies. Johnny convinced Tammy that he could manage chores and sent her home. He was due back on duty in the morning and didn't want to take a chance on settling in for a late evening. The last two days wore him out. He could use a good night's sleep. "You'll call me if you have any problems after sucking in that water." Johnny gave her a hug and another long, loving kiss. "You bet. I wouldn't want to be sick without my favorite nurse." He helped her into her car. "Drive safely. I'll try to call you sometime tomorrow." "I've got some errands to run. So, don't be surprised if I'm not home." Unfortunately, after Johnny finished his shift tomorrow, he would have two days off while Tammy worked the weekend. Then he was back on duty Monday while she was off. "Okay, Tammy. I'll keep trying 'til I get ya." He watched until she turned on to the road. Walking slowly, he headed for the barn to get his chores out of the way. Johnny was looking forward to hitting the hay early. *~<~E!~>~* Troy Peterson walked slowly behind his trainer. He had been on the job for almost four weeks. He was looking forward to his first paycheck next week; the company kept the first check until the employee completed six months of employment. This job was dangerous, but it paid well. "I'm gonna work my own machine today, Troy. If you need anything, give me a yell," Andy Dawson said to Troy as they walked down the line of plastic extruders toward the heating chambers. "Don't forget to keep an eye on the temp gauges and keep your air mask within reach." "I remember, Andy. We were just here yesterday. It's not like I've been gone all weekend." "Well, I'll just be on the next machine over." Andy moved over to the next aisle and began working through the start-up procedures to get the plastic extruder up and running. High intensity lights beamed down from the high ceiling. The plant was divided by eight-foot walls, leaving about three feet of space for the long-bladed ceiling fans to circulate hot air throughout the factory. Otherwise, the extruding machines would have overheated the room and required high output air conditioning. By sharing the heat with the entire plant, the air conditioning could be used more efficiently on hot days and the hot air used to make the factory more comfortable on cooler days. Troy set his mask down next to his operation chair. He would monitor the machine from there. He glanced up at the top of the wall that separated his room from the gas room. The information he received in orientation just about sent him packing. That phosgene gas could kill ya real quick. He shook his head just thinking about it. Troy developed a habit of glancing at the top of the room divider for a white cloud that would indicate escaping phosgene gas. He took notes out of his back pocket. After a brief review, Troy started flipping switches to get the extruder fired up. When at full capacity, the machine could produce up to fifty computer cases a day. The factory was still working out a few bugs in the process. So, the extruder was working at a lower capacity. Before getting this job, Troy wouldn't have believed anyone telling him that that many computer housings would be needed. Evidently the computer business is booming. Troy sniffed the air. He looked up to the ceiling. He could smell the acrid odor of the hydrochloric acid. The openings in the vats allowed vapor to escape into the air as the acid was mixed with sodium bicarbonate to make it less acidic, and lethal. That part of orientation was creepy, too. He was glad that he didn't work in that part of the plant either. The acid vats were two room dividers away. *~<~E!~>~* Troy was happy when his shift ended at three o'clock. The extruding room was hotter than usual. He kept his eye on the temperature gauge. It stayed in the green part of the dial. He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked down the hall at his replacement walking toward him. Max started with the company in the very first week. So, he felt like an old hand. In fact, he had worked at PPP, Inc. for three months longer than Troy. Max looked over the gauges as soon as he reached the operation area. He felt the unusual heat in the room, too. Well, it is summer and well over eighty degrees outside. The air conditioning is probably having trouble keeping up with the heat of the extruder. Max shrugged and listened as Tory filled him on the idiosyncrasies of the extruder for that day. As a fairly new machine, the extruder was still full of surprises. "…so, I've been checking the gauges more often than I usually do." "It's probably just 'cuz it's so hot out today." "Really? It was nice and cool when I got here-about sixty-five degrees." "Well, brace yourself, Troy. It's almost ninety outside. The humidity's high, too. It's one of those days when the pollution from the industrial park just kinda hangs in the air." "Pretty smoggy, huh?" "Yeah." "Ya know, I like working days. But, when I gotta leave here at the hottest part of the day, I just hate it." Troy paused for a moment. "Ya know? I hate getting up really early, too." He looked at Max. "Maybe I should put in a transfer to evenings." Max shrugged. "Guess it's up to you. I like evenings. Get to sleep in, get outta work when it's cooler. Can go have a drink after work to unwind. Best shift for me." "I'll think about it." Tory picked up his air mask. "Have a good shift, Max." "Thanks. See ya Monday." Troy happily left the hot room for Max to watch over. Max settled his air mask into place beside the chair. He rechecked the gauges and walked the length of the machine. The heat was much worse where the plastic flowed down the tubes near the molds. Grateful that he was able to spend most of his time at the other end of the room, Max opened his cooler and retrieved a bottle of water. *~<~E!~>~* Friday was busy for the station. The engine was toned out immediately after roll call. They were sent from one situation to another. For some reason people out enjoying nature weren't being very careful with their fires. The engine crew put out three brush fires before supper. The squad was dispatched to all three, also. In between the fires, Johnny and Roy were busy with medical runs. *~<~E!~>~* Max untied the bandana from around his forehead and wrung it out. The room seemed to be getting hotter. Max kept his eyes on the temperature gauge. It hadn't wavered. Max was having a hard time understanding what was going on. The machine had a few oddities, but the gauges had always functioned well. The meal floater would be around soon to relieve him for his half-hour meal break. Several men were trained to work multiple stations in the plant to watch over the production equipment while the workers took meal breaks. Max was looking forward to getting some fresh, cool air while he ate his supper. An idea suddenly entered Max's mind. He reached over and rapped his knuckle on the gauge, as if it was an old beat-up machine. The indicator sprung up into the red zone. It came to rest near the top of the gauge limit. Max looked around for help. The only phone in the room was at the other end of the room-past the heating tubes. As he walked by the hot tubes, he noticed a burning smell. The plastic resin within the tubes was overheating and beginning to scorch. The burning odor made him move faster to the phone. Max dialed the operator and asked for the plant supervisor. While he waited on hold, he realized he left his air mask back at the operations panel. Suddenly, the time spent waiting for the supervisor to come on the line seemed to stretch into infinity. Max could feel the cold sweat of fear break out on his chest and run down his ample belly. "This is Johnson." "Hey, this is Carter in the extruding room. The gauge was stuck, and now it shows the machine is maxed out on temp." "The machine's running hot, so what?" "It's not just running hot. It's at the top of the gauge. We need to shut it down." "Slow it down, but don't shut down. A rapid shut down will make it worse. I'll be right there." Max hung up the phone and scurried back to the operations panel. It felt like the temperature in the room had gone up at least ten degrees. He dialed down the resin flow and hoped it would begin reducing the temperature. At first it was a little trickle of smoke. Then, the flames appeared. They licked at the heating tubes, moving both ways along the machinery. Max reached over and pulled the fire alarm that was on the wall next to the operations panel. He draped the air mask straps over his shoulder. There wasn't much smoke, yet. But, he didn't want to be without it. *~<~E!~>~* Tim Bradenton heard the alarm, and his training kicked in. He knew that the hydrochloric acid wasn't flammable, but he didn't want to be caught in the plant in the middle of a fire. He slammed shut the man-sized, metal cover over the acid vat. Sliding to a stop next to the sodium bicarbonate tank, he twirled the wheel that controlled the flow of bicarb into the acid vat. As he left the room Tim could feel the heat rising. He grabbed his air mask and scampered out. The temperature in the acid room quickly rose. Soon it was beyond human tolerance. Moments later the flames from the extrusion room worked their way up and over the wall divider. The ceiling fans helped feed the flames with a fresh supply of air. The heat reached the tolerance limits on the rubber seals under the lid that covered the acid vat. The heavy metal lid soon sat on a liquid rim that was formerly rubber. *~<~E!~>~* In the phosgene room Rob Deidrich was startled by the first bleat of the warbling fire alarm. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he tried to keep his breathing under control. His personal protection suit had a limited air supply. Through the plastic bubble of the face mask, Rob watched as his shaking hands slowed and stopped the flow of phosgene gas into the resin mixing machinery. When the gauge reached zero flow, he shut down the rest of the machine, including mixing paddles and oil infusion. Rob took his time and reviewed each gauge to be sure the process was halted. The gas wasn't flammable. But, if it escaped from containment, everyone in the industrial park could be affected. Rob tried to shake sweat from his forehead inside his protective suit. His hands were still shaking from the flood of adrenaline into his system. As he turned to leave the protective suit sleeve brushed against the flow lever, leaving it slightly ajar. A trickle of gas seeped into the mixer. *~<~E!~>~* It was nearly eight in the evening before Johnny could call Tammy. She finished her errands early in the day. So, she was able to spend a few minutes catching up with Johnny. Although, since they had parted company just over twenty-four hours ago, they didn't have much new news for each other. Their telephone conversation was cut short with the scream of the klaxons. "Station 51, Station 110, Battalion 5. Structure fire. Fifty-one, eleven Merger Way, cross street Industrial Parkway. Structure fire five, one, one, one Merger Way. Time out twenty twenty-one." Captain Stanley acknowledged the call. The red emergency lights reflected off other cars and buildings along the route to the industrial park. As they neared the site Johnny and Roy could see that the building was large. Turning into the drive, the squad's headlights lit up the large sign at the street. It read, "Pacific Plastic Products, Inc." "Chet just won the bet," Roy informed his partner. "We won't even need to ask Mike to decide. I'll agree that he won-if we make it through." "Don't be so morbid, Johnny. Just treat it like any other fire with hazardous materials. We've got the training to handle it." "I know, Roy. But, phosgene is nothing to sneeze at. Chet was probably right to be nervous about it." Roy kept his eyes on the crowd of workers that were jammed into the spaces between the cars in the parking lot. They spilled over into the drive. He slowed to a crawl as people slowly realized they needed to move aside. Engine and Squad 110 pulled in right behind of 51's vehicles. The firefighters spilled out of their vehicles, gathering around the two captains and the plant supervisor. They discussed the layout of the plant and their best options for fighting the extrusion room fire. Decisions made, Stanley and Thompson directed their men. The paramedics were used on hoses after the supervisor reported all of his workers were accounted for. The fire made its way into the phosgene gas room, crawling along and over each room divider. Heat from the flames made the machinery glow. Plastic and rubber joints that connected parts of the machinery melted under the onslaught of heat. Small clouds of white phosgene gas began forming as it leaked from the mixer, mixing with the smoke that drifted along the floor. Marco and Chet wrestled one hose into the building and back through the main storage area. Johnny and Roy dragged another hose to the back of the factory. Johnny could see right away that fighting this fire would take a big toll on the firefighters in terms of just hauling equipment. The fire blocked the shorter routes into the area. Leading the way, Johnny could feel Roy's strength helping him move the hose across the plant. When he could see the flames, Johnny stopped and pulled a handie talkie from his pocket. He advised Mike to crank up the pumps and start the water flowing. Returning the radio to his deep pocket, Johnny nodded to his partner, twisted the nozzle full open, and braced himself. It only took a few moments for the hose to fill with water, becoming a stiff, heavy handful. Johnny swept the water back and forth over the flames that roared out of the door to the extrusion room. He could see Marco and Chet working on the fire in the acid room about twenty feet away. The firefighters from 110 were sent to the roof and the rear of the building to start venting the smoke. Handling the nozzle end of the hose was hot work. Johnny could feel sweat soaking through the uniform under his turnouts. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, too. The oxygen tasted metallic as he took deep breaths under the air mask. Smoke drifted around the plant, obscuring machinery and storage bins. The water was cutting through the flames, and Johnny pushed forward as the fire receded back into the extrusion room. Roy tapped him on the shoulder and moved forward to the nozzle, letting Johnny fall back to the cooler area behind the lead firefighter. They pulled the heavy hose with them into the extrusion room. Roy swept the nozzle in large arcs trying to cover the flames that threatened to overwhelm them. Slowly, the flames retreated under the soaking from the hose. The molds at the end of the machinery came into view as they moved farther into the room. Johnny slapped Roy on the shoulder to swap places, again. They were both panting under their masks. Johnny checked his gauge and was surprised to see they had used up twenty minutes of air. The five-minute alarm would be ringing soon. Leaning close to Roy, Johnny shouted through his mask, "Roy, we've only got a few minutes of air." Roy nodded. Johnny pulled the radio out and requested a rotation out for new air bottles. As he was putting the radio away he heard Chet make a similar request. In a few moments firefighters from Station 15 followed the hose to Johnny and Roy. They relinquished the hose to the new men and used the snaking hose to find their way outside. Even when they reached the cooler air outside the building, the paramedics kept their masks in place mindful of the possibility of phosgene gas. The firefighters outside the building were all wearing masks as they worked on the fire. Johnny and Roy exchanged air tanks and walked back into the building. Chet and Marco were a few steps behind them. Smoke still cloaked most of the interior of the factory. Heat buffeted the firefighters in waves as they moved deeper into the plant. The men from 15 had nearly extinguished the flames in the acid and extrusion rooms. Nonetheless, they were ready to hand over the hose to someone with fresh air tanks. Johnny slapped the nozzle lever shut when the flames were all out. He and Roy wrestled the stiff hose out of the extrusion room and moved into the acid room to help Marco and Chet. Even though the flames were nearly out, smoke clung to the room, making it difficult to see. As Johnny moved into the room he watched Chet scramble up to the top of the acid vat. A stubborn pocket of fire was holding out in the back corner of the room behind the large container. Chet was trying to get a different angle on the flames. He stepped around the lid. Marco helped direct the hose to give Chet the maximum support he could from the floor. Johnny and Roy stepped around the acid vat to help with the fire fight. The water already been poured into the room made the top of the vat slick. Despite careful attention to his footing, Chet's feet slid out from under him. He hit the lid covering the container opening. The liquid seal that used to be rubber squished out and sent the cover sliding away from under Chet. He let go of the hose as his right arm and leg slipped into the acid. He shouted as his skin started burning, the acid slipping between the leg of his turnouts and the large rubber boots he wore and up the arm of the turnout coat. Marco worked his way quickly down the hose to the nozzle to shut off the flow of the water, which caused the hose to snake out of control and kept the men from reaching Chet. Johnny and Roy dropped the hose they were carrying. Johnny reached Chet first. He tried to grab Chet's flailing arms to pull him out of the acid. "Roy, get the hose ready to wash him down! We've got to get the acid off!" Johnny was turning back to concentrate on his friend when Chet's arm slammed into the side of Johnny's head, his fingers latching on to what ever they could. The glancing blow caught the edge of Johnny's face mask, and Chet's grasping fingers pulled it off his face. Johnny coughed as smoke entered his lungs with each breath. Johnny caught Chet's arm on its back swing and held on, trying to see through eyes that were tearing from the smoky irritation. Coughing, Johnny pulled with all his strength to get Chet out of the acid. Hydrochloric acid dripped off of Chet's turnouts. Roy cranked the nozzle open to a small stream and directed it at Chet. Johnny feverishly started opening the clasps on Chet's turnout coat. He held the air tanks while pushing the coat off Chet's shoulders. Roy redirected the water to Chet's upper body. Chet shivered from the cold water soaking his clothing and shock from landing in the acid. With Johnny's help Chet pushed his turnout pants down. Roy washed off Chet's legs. Johnny took a few moments to replace his own mask, since Chet was out of immediate danger. Roy dropped the hose and helped Chet get rid of his boots and bunkers. Chet still had his uniform pants on.  "C'mon, Chet. We need to get you out of here and rinsed off," Roy shouted through his mask. "Johnny, call in a Code I. Then, get out of here. I want you checked out, too. Your mask was off long enough to cause some problems." Roy was worried about possible phosgene contamination. With the extensive smoke throughout the plant, a white cloud of phosgene gas would be hard to detect. In between harsh coughs Johnny shouted into the radio that they were coming out with a Code I. He felt short of breath and had a headache that the coughing only intensified. The coughing made his throat hurt. Tears rolled down his face from red, irritated eyes. As he followed Roy and Chet out of the building with tired feet Johnny realized he detected the scent of recently mown grass when his mask was off. He knew from reviewing the information on phosgene gas that he was probably exposed to a significant level of the gas. He felt his chest tighten further with the fear of exposure to the toxic gas. Roy kept his hand on Chet's left arm and carried Chet's air tanks. He twisted around to keep an eye on Johnny as they walked out. When he got to the door of the plant, the paramedics from 110's appeared. Steve Harper and Jim Martin took over getting the rest of Chet's clothes off down to his skivvies. They emptied several large bags of flushing solution over the red areas on his arm and leg where the acid made contact. Steve collected vital signs, while Jim treated Chet like a burn victim-covering the red, blistering areas with saline-soaked gauze dressing and a yellow emergency blanket to keep him warm. Roy and Johnny shrugged out of their equipment. With Chet in competent hands, Roy turned his attention to his partner. Johnny pulled off his mask and was gulping deep breaths of air between ragged coughs, his arms braced on his thighs. Roy hauled the oxygen tanks and drug box over beside Johnny. Roy helped Johnny sit on the ground and unrolled the oxygen mask and tubing. He attached it to the tanks and handed the other end to Johnny, who smiled in relief as he slipped the mask over his mouth and nose. "I'm gonna get your vitals, Johnny." Johnny nodded. Moving quickly, Roy wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Johnny's arm. He felt the cold sweat that covered his partner. Roy left the cuff around Johnny's arm and counted pulse and respiration rates. His partner was quickly slipping into shock. "Is that oxygen helping, Johnny?" Johnny closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "Not much….Still ….pretty…short…." Roy used his penlight to check his partner's pupils. When he ran the light past Johnny's face, he could see that a blue-gray tinge colored the skin around Johnny's mouth. He was tiring from trying to draw air into his congested lungs. Roy could hear the fluid rattling in Johnny's lungs without his stethoscope. "Any other symptoms, Johnny?" Roy asked as he moved the biophone closer. "My …head's… killing me." Johnny rubbed his forehead. "And, my….throat…hurts." Johnny switched his hand to his belly. "Nauseated….too." Johnny coughed from deep in his chest. "Okay, try to relax, Johnny. I'm gonna get on the radio to Rampart." Roy attached the antenna. "Rampart, County 51. How do you read?" "We read you five-by-five, County 51," Brackett's voice came back over the radio. "Rampart, I have a twenty-nine-year-old male with smoke inhalation. Victim may also have been exposed to phosgene gas at the fire scene. Vital signs: pressure 105/60, pulse 130, respirations 32 and labored. Victim reports headache, nausea, and throat irritation. I have him on one hundred percent O2 with a non-rebreather mask. His skin remains cyanotic, cool, and clammy." Roy grimaced as he looked over at his friend and partner, who was hearing his condition detailed so precisely. Johnny was frowning and using every muscle at his disposal to get air in and out of his lungs. He could feel the air trying to move through liquid deep in his lungs. A reflexive cough to move the liquid did little to help. I must've gotten into some phosgene. Smoke inhalation doesn't get this bad. He looked up at Roy with a hopeful look that Rampart could order some treatment to relieve his symptoms. Roy heard Brackett sigh over the open airwaves. "County 51, start an IV of saline, give him an amp of epinephrine. Assist with ventilation, if necessary. Rampart out." Roy repeated the orders as he grabbed the equipment from the drug box. He let the phone drop from his shoulder and concentrated on setting up and starting the IV. Roy felt someone standing behind him. He turned slightly to see Captain Stanley squatting down to his level. "How's John doing?" "He's hanging in there. I think there was a phosgene leak." "I'll get a hazardous material team to clean up. What happened in there?" "Chet slipped on the top of the hydrochloric acid tank. The lid slid out of the way, and Chet's arm and leg got dunked in the tank." Captain Stanley looked over where Jim and Steve were wrapping Chet in preparation for transport. The first ambulance siren could be heard getting closer. A second siren quickly joined it. "The ambulance should be here in a few. What happened to John?" "Chet yanked Johnny's mask off when he was trying to get out of the tank. Johnny's mask was off for a good two to three minutes. But, his symptoms are too severe for just smoke inhalation." "That's why you think there was a phosgene leak?" Roy nodded as he finished pushing the epinephrine into Johnny's IV. He could see that his friend was tiring from the effort it took to keep moving air in and out. "Cap, could you kneel behind Johnny and support his back. He'll breathe better sitting up. But, he's tiring from breathing." "Sure, Roy." Stanley moved around to support the dark-haired paramedic. "Take it easy, John. I've got ya." Johnny relaxed back on to Hank's legs and abdomen. His coughing grew more feeble. He knew that he wouldn't be conscious much longer. His worried, brown eyes opened wide as a frothy mix of fluid and air bubbled into his throat. He tried to spit it out, but more kept coming. Johnny grabbed the oxygen mask and ripped it off. He tried to sit up in an effort to get more air in his lungs. But, the oxygen in his body was critically low. He didn't have the strength to sit up. Blackness closed in. His body went limp, his head lolling to one side. Hank looked over to Roy, who was scrambling for the esophageal airway. "Lay him down, Cap." Roy knelt beside his partner's head. He tilted Johnny's head back to give him unobstructed access to the pharynx and esophagus. Once the esophagus was blocked with the large tube, Roy attached the oxygen valve and started giving Johnny bursts of oxygen. Frothy, white liquid escaped around the tube. Roy wiped it away with his free hand. "Cap, could you let Rampart know that Johnny's unconscious and being ventilated." A gurney clattered over to them. "And, let them know we're ready to transport." Roy nodded to the attendants and got his feet under him to help with the transfer. He heard Stanley's voice updating Dr. Brackett. When Stanley was done with the transmission, he packaged the biophone and drug box for transport with Roy and Johnny. Walking backwards, Roy led the way to the ambulance. The attendants lifted the gurney and shoved it into the rig. Roy climbed in, keeping even with Johnny's head. He could see Johnny's chest rising in concert with the oxygen he was giving, but Johnny's color wasn't improving. And, the frothy sputum continued to seep out of Johnny's mouth. Roy glanced at his watch, trying to estimate how long the trip to Rampart would take. He knew that no matter how short the ride it would be too long with Johnny in the condition he was in. The back doors were slammed shut. Roy checked the IV drip rate as he felt the ambulance accelerate. With his concentration on Johnny, Roy lost track of Chet and his condition. He knew that acid burns were as debilitating as thermal burns. With any luck they washed the acid off before third degree burns occurred. Roy returned his full attention to Johnny. His friend remained unconscious. His skin was a little less dusky, but he was pale. Obviously, he wasn't getting optimum oxygenation, yet. Roy prayed Johnny's exposure to phosgene wouldn't be fatal. Roy's body swayed as the ambulance backed up to the entrance to the Emergency Room. He tucked the IV bag under Johnny's shoulder and lifted an oxygen tank onto the cart between Johnny's legs. Continuing the rhythmic ventilation of Johnny's lungs, Roy walked beside the gurney as Dixie directed them to a treatment room. Doctor Brackett followed the gurney into the room. He had been watching for their arrival. He immediately started barking orders. "Dix, get respiratory down here. I'm going to put in an endotracheal tube and put him on a ventilator until his lungs dry out a little. Get a set of gases now and after he's been on the vent for an hour." He rattled off orders for ventilator settings, more lab tests, and a chest x-ray. Brackett pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Johnny's lungs. He felt the distended veins in Johnny's neck. He acknowledged the ET tube, water-soluble gel, and laryngoscope that Dixie laid out on the treatment table. Moving to the head of the table, He unhinged the head of the table, allowing Johnny's head to drop back. Roy found himself unable to turn away despite the invasiveness of the procedure that he knew was going to be performed on his friend. Doctor Brackett asked Dixie to stand-by with suction. He looked up as the respiratory technician rolled a ventilator into the room. Brackett pulled the esophageal airway out of Johnny's mouth with a slurp of fluid. A steady stream of frothy liquid rolled out of Johnny's mouth and down his cheek to drip on the floor. The oxygen monitor attached to his finger started wailing. Dixie stepped closer and used the yankauer suction wand to get it out of the doctor's way. "Keep the suction coming, Dix. I need to see the cords." Brackett peered into Johnny's larynx, trying to catch a glimpse of his vocal cords. The sputum cleared for a few seconds, and he was able to see them. "Got 'em." He pushed the ET tube through into the trachea. Whipping out the stylet, he attached the oxygen tubing from the ventilator. "Keep him on one hundred percent oxygen, Dick. You'll probably have to suction him frequently. He'll need proventil treatments every four hours."  Brackett listened to Johnny's lungs again to be sure the ET tube was in the correct position. The oxygen monitor stopped wailing as Johnny's blood regained a minimally adequate level of oxygen. He peered into the unconscious man's eyes, noting the extensive conjunctival irritation. Brackett turned to Roy, who had taken up a position against the wall, watching them work on his partner. "Roy, let's go get a cup of coffee. He'll be okay for a few minutes." He draped an arm over Roy's shoulders as they walked out of the treatment room. *~<~E!~>~* Roy sat beside Johnny's bed in the Intensive Care Unit. Johnny was still intubated, but the ventilator had been turned down so that Johnny was breathing on his own. His condition had turned the corner near daybreak. His pulmonary edema cleared. The engine crew was busy at the plastic factory until nearly three in the morning. Since the shift was almost over, the Battalion Chief took the squad out of service. Captain Stanley stopped by the hospital on the way back to the station. Roy gave the crew an update on Chet and Johnny's condition. Johnny's lungs were slowly recovering from their exposure to the phosgene gas. Chet had second-degree burns on fifteen percent of his body. He was being kept comfortable with morphine in the burn unit. Doctor Brackett assured Roy and the rest of the crew that he would recover completely. Captain Stanley told Roy that the Hazmat Team contained the leak, and no one else was exposed to it. When the leak was discovered, all of the firemen were pulled from the building until the team could get it under control. The fire nearly got out of control, while the containment team was working on the phosgene tank. The delay in fighting the fire kept the firefighters on scene for quite some time. Roy's eyes drifted shut as the beeping and hissing of the machines in Johnny's room settled into a rhythm all their own. His eyes snapped open when the ventilator alarm went off. He surged up out of his chair, his heart beating wildly in response to a rush of adrenaline. Glancing at the monitors and the ventilator panel, he could see that the readings were all normal except for high pressure on the vent. Roy knew that the alarm could be due to an obstruction. And, that certainly wouldn't surprise him after all of the liquid that had been sucked out of Johnny's lungs. Roy followed the blue, corrugated vent tubing from the machine to his partner's face. That's when he noticed that Johnny's eyes were open. *~<~E!~>~* Johnny tried to cough-no mean feat when intubated. The alarms started all over again. His hands, which were tied to the bed, clenched and unclenched as he tried to work with the machine. He had awakened from other injuries on the respirator. It never seemed to get any easier, just more familiar. *~<~E!~>~* "Take it easy, Johnny. Your lungs needed to rest. You're on a vent." Roy grabbed Johnny's hand and gave him something to cling to. "That's it. You're monitors are looking good." Johnny nodded to let Roy know he understood. Unfortunately, the movement caused enough irritation in his already irritated airway to start him coughing again. "I'll go see if Brackett will extubate you. Try and relax. I'll be right back, Johnny." Roy slipped out of the room to have Brackett paged. He knew the doctor would be going home soon after working all night. *~<~E!~>~* Johnny gagged and coughed as Kel Brackett pulled the endotracheal tube out of his mouth. Brackett handed him some tissues to spit in. He wasn't completely sure that Johnny was ready to be extubated, but the man was so restless that to leave the tube in would probably be worse. Brackett put the nasal cannula prongs in Johnny's nose and adjusted the flow rate to four liters per minute. "Thanks, Doc," Johnny said with a hoarse, weak voice. "So, how're you feeling, Johnny," Dr. Brackett asked as he made notations on the chart. "My headache's getting better. I'm not nauseated except from coughing." "Well, your pulmonary status has improved a lot. Unfortunately, it may be several weeks before you're able to exert yourself without getting the pulmonary edema back. But, ultimately, you should make a complete recovery." Brackett finished writing and glanced at his watch. "I'm gonna get some shut eye. I'd suggest you do the same, Roy. Johnny, I've ordered proventil nebulizer treatments to continue every six hours for the next twenty-four hours.' Johnny was thinking back over the run where he was exposed to phosgene. He suddenly remembered how the exposure happened. "Chet, how's Chet?" He started to sit up in bed. "Whoa, there Johnny. Lay back down. Chet's doing okay. He's got some chemical burns, but he'll be okay." Johnny relaxed. "Good. He could've been hurt a lot worse." Johnny's voice remained hoarse. He motioned to Roy. "Go home. I'll be fine." He coughed from the throat irritation that talking caused. Roy rubbed his tired eyes. "Okay, I think I will. I'll come back tonight with Jo. Call if you need anything." "What would I need? I'm in ICU. Besides, Tammy should be on duty soon." "I had Dixie leave her a note that you were in." Roy glanced at the clock. "She'll be here soon." He grinned at his partner, relieved that he was on the mend. "I'll see ya later, Junior." Johnny waved back to save his voice. His chest still felt tight. He would be glad to get a breathing treatment when it was due. Sinking back against the bed and pillows, he tried to relax. Getting extubated wore him out. He was soon sleeping lightly. He slowly regained consciousness as he felt someone rubbing his face and holding his hand. Tammy was standing beside his bed with a concerned look. He smiled. "Hey," he croaked. "Hey back at ya." Tammy smiled at him. "How ya feelin'?" "Getting better now." Johnny reached up to pull her closer for a kiss. It didn't last long; Johnny didn't have the strength. "I see you are feeling better. I'm gonna go back to work and let you rest. I'll pop back up on my lunch break." "Bring me some real food," he asked. She laughed. "Maybe I'll get you something for this evening. I doubt you'll see anything more solid than Jello for lunch." She laughed again at his scowl. "I'll see you later." *~<~E!~>~* Two days later Johnny was waiting for Tammy to pick him up and take him home. He liked the idea of having his own nurse. She was going to stay with him until Friday evening. She was going to devote this week to her best friend. Chet was released the day before. He stopped by Johnny's room on his way out and reminded Johnny that he, Chet, won the bet. Johnny knew Chet would never forget that he was due ten dollars from his "pigeon." So, Johnny planned on dropping by Chet's house in the next few days to pay up. For now, he was going to concentrate on regaining his strength and endurance. His lungs still felt tight. Even the short walks in the hospital hallways made him short of breath. Brackett told him yesterday on late rounds that it would take several weeks before his lungs would tolerate strenuous exercise. Johnny was hoping that the damage wasn't as severe as Brackett predicted. He looked up as footsteps stopped in his doorway. He smiled at Tammy, who smiled back. "Ready to get outta here?" she asked. "You bet! Did ya bring a wheelchair?" Tammy gave him a surprised look. "My Johnny? Asking for a wheelchair? I wouldn't believe it, if I hadn't heard it with my own ears." Johnny laughed. "I just know the rules. I'm not really keen on riding in them. But, going along with the rules will get me outta here quicker." "Oh, I see." Tammy grinned and gave him a kiss before retrieving the wheelchair from the hallway. "Let's get outta here." Johnny settled into the chair with his bag of belongings on his lap. She stopped at the pharmacy on their way out and retrieved his prescriptions. He was going to need some inhalers to control his respiratory symptoms. She drove him to her car. She had a little Toyota that he folded himself into. The journey from Rampart to his ranch was enough to tire Johnny out. The fatigue that plagued his life annoyed him. He was used to having endless energy. I wonder if I'll ever feel the same again. They walked into the house. Johnny melted onto the couch. Tammy could see that Johnny wasn't able to tolerate much in the way of exercise. She was concerned about it. While Johnny was teasing when he said he had a private nurse, Tammy took the appellation very seriously. "Why don't you relax for a few minutes? I'm gonna put on pot of coffee." Tammy pushed him down to a lying position on the couch. She covered him with the worn afghan that he kept on the back of the couch. Johnny grinned back at her, even as he felt his eyes growing heavy. His last coherent thoughts centered on how lucky he was to be in love with Tammy and how soon he might get back in shape and climb Mount Whitney. He dreamt of tracking across snow-covered slopes, with Tammy beside him, of course. The End? Feedback for Becky Sue return to main menu .