Beware the Banshee's cry

The characters from the TV Series Emergency! are not mine and I am getting nothing for telling these tales they tell me. I do claim the others in the story. The ideas of the story are mine and my storytelling great-grandparents.

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I grew up with a strangely mixed heritage. One set of grandparents first generation American born Irish, the other Swiss immigrant (father) Native American (mother). Both had lots of stories they passed on. They have been woven into this tale of mine. My mother's grandfather was from the old country and loved to tell the old tales. I think sometimes he did it just to see how wide my eyes would get. While living in Scotland, I heard the banshee cry. You believe what you want to; I know what I heard. By the time I could get a hold of my parents back in the States, they told me at the time I heard the banshee during my nightime, my brother'd dove into a lake and broke his neck.(Remember, there's a 6 hour difference backwards) Fortunately, another brother was there and pulled him out, using proper holds. They were able to resuscitate him and get him to a hospital. The banshee is said to warn the Irish family of sorrow and coming tragedy. It was a hard long road, but he did recover. He not only survived, but went on to become a Nuclear Physicist who specializes in the reaction of human tissue to radiation.

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Beware the Banshee's Cry

The Warning

When at night the Banshees cry,

then someone in the house may die…

Chet looked at the calendar in front of him, his eyes twinkling with glee, his bushy mustache unable to hide his grin. "Yessss! We're on shift that night! Oh, this year will be better then last year, no, better than any year before! This year, the Phantom's Pranks will go down in LA County history!" He gleefully circled the date in orange marker. "Years from now, they ALL will talk about this Halloween." He tapped the date of October 31 with his finger, noting as he did that it fell on a Saturday night. "Even better!" He paused on another thought, "oh. I won't be off shift in time to go to All Saint's Day Mass with Mom." He shrugged, "Ah well. I'll see if they're gonna have an evening mass and I'll go then."

That settled in his mind, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and set out planning. Once he was sure he had all the needed items listed for his intended pranks, he set the pad aside and finished off the coffee in his cup. A glance at his watch showed it was time for the movie he wanted to see. It was the second day of their three-day break so he wasn't worried about getting any sleep. Then tomorrow, he'd hit several stores, make his purchases and have all evening to set things up and still get a good night sleep before shift the next morning. He grabbed the bag of popcorn he'd prepared earlier and a bottle of coke from the fridge. Once he had the TV set to the correct channel, he settled happily into his chair, eager to begin his feasting on both popcorn and movie. Soon he was staring intently at the screen, his hand stuffing his mouth with popcorn on its own accord.

The first movie of the double feature thriller was everything the advertisers promised it would be, filled with screaming gore drenched babes and nasty villains. The second movie? Ehhh. It was halfway through, the bad guy had yet to strike, the popcorn was gone, and Chet was finding it harder and harder to keep the screen in focus.

Suddenly a chill ran over Chet's body and with a loud snort he sat up, blinking to clear his fuzzy vision as he looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so with a shrug, he turned his focus back to the TV. The scene showed gentle rolling hills barely visible through the shifting mists. Suddenly a figure seemed to coalesce from the shadows, growing brighter and more distinct the closer it came. One could now make out the shape of a woman, tall and reed thin with long silvery hair moving about her body in the breeze. She appeared to be almost floating inches above the landscape.

Chet leaned forward, feeling his heart-rate pick up with excitement. As she came closer, she raised one hand, extending one long bony finger straight toward . . . Chet?

"Son of O'Ceallaigh," an eerie breathy voice spoke and Chet recognized the name as the ancient version of the Sept clan Kelly was part of, "your actions have called me from the land of Eire to this new world."

Chet blinked and the popcorn bowl slide from his grasp to clatter loudly on the floor. "Wha. . ." Then he looked around with a smirk. "OK, nice one Gage but I'm not buying it." He got up and looked around, trying to see the speaker and wires he just knew had to be hidden near his TV.

"There is no one here but us, buairt." He whirled so fast he lost his balance and fell back into his chair. He blinked, rubbed his eyes harshly and looked again, but the same sight was before him. "Auntie Einin! But . . . but you're dead!" He squeaked.

The woman before him gave him a wry smile as she pushed her long auburn hair over one ear. "Why thank ye for bringing that ta my attention. I always said you were a bright lad."

He smiled at hearing the familiar caustic wit. He'd missed that since her passing. No one could banter like his Aunt. Then he realized again he was talking to his dead Aunt. 'I must be dreaming.' he thought, then shrugged. 'oh well, there are worse things to dream about.'

"You look great . . uh . .. "

She sniggered at him, "You're still full of blarney, Chester. I look great for a 15 year old corpse?"

At that he frowned, "Has it been that long?"

She nodded, "Yea, lad. Eighteen years since the break up. Fifteen since your promise." Now she stepped closer, her eyes filled with Irish anger. "The promise you broke! Now she's here to collect." She pointed back over her shoulder.

Unwillingly, Chet's gaze followed that finger and saw that the figure he'd seen in the TV was now standing behind him. Slim body clothed in a white filmy robe that ever shifted with unfelt breezes, her long silver hair blowing about her body, covering and uncovering her face which was sharply planed, sometimes beautiful, the next moment a hag, her eyes flashing crimson.

Chet's own eyes widened and he took several involuntary steps backward. "Banshee!"

"Yes. You were told the night you swore the oath that if you ever broke it, the payment would be death. Now, it's time to choose. When, Chester?"

Chet's heart felt like it would explode as his mind raced. This was an old spirit; one of the oldest in Irish legends, the one who foretold death, who mourned that death with the family and who escorted the newly departed soul away from its earthly home. He'd heard the Banshee cry once before—the night he knew his aunt had died. Even though that hadn't been confirmed until nearly five years later, he'd known. Then his mind begin going through all the stories he remembered hearing about mortals dealing with the Shee and how human cleverness could be used to tric…uh…shift the outcome for the human. So now he started.

He nodded, "Ok. I remember the promise, and it did say I was to suffer pain and death, but death isn't the only way I can suffer or the only kind of death being the loss of life." He began to get excited as his thoughts firmed in his mind.

Eninin's green eyes narrowed as she watched him, "Chester," she drew that name out as a threat, "Be very aware of what you are doing. This is no clever game."

But he ignored her, intent on willing the Banshee to take his offering. "I could suffer death of spirit, that would be just as bad as . . .as . . .physical death, right?"

Slowly the Banshee nodded, her eyes now an abyss of darkness.

Trying hard to conceal his delight, he continued, "Soooo, if like something were taken from me, something that I cared a lot for, it would cause me pain and suffering and a death of spirit, sorta a exchange, a . a . . a trade, yeah, a trade, a switching of places, that kinda thing . . ."

"You must suffer…" The Banshee spoke in her breathy tones.

Chet nodded his head enthusiastically, "Oh, I will, I will. I promise!"

Suddenly the Banshee nodded a quick jerky movement, "Very well, son of O'Ceallaigh, I will amend this new promise with the old. I will return in four night's time for your decision then on Samhain, the promise will be fulfilled. 'Till then, son of O'Ceallaigh." And the unseen breeze blew heavily at her hair and robe and she was gone.

Chet turned to his aunt, his face proud of his achievements, and was surprised to see her sadly shaking her head at him. "Oh Chester. Will you never learn? Dealing with those of the otherworld is no clever game."

Chet smiled, "Don't worry, Auntie, I know what I'm doing. It will all turn out fine. Trust me."

Einin looked straight into his eyes, her own both sad and cold at the same time. "I hope so, my nephew, I dearly hope so. Be very careful what you think when the Banshee returns." Then she too was gone.

Chet woke up with a crick in his neck and looked around him, blurry-eyed. "Wow! That was some dream!" He shrugged as he quickly put it aside. He picked up the bowl from the floor, threw away the empty bottle, and went about getting his breakfast. That done and with his morning routine finished, he grabbed his wallet, keys and list and whistling Wild Rover left for his shopping.

Once he'd purchased what he need and ran a few other errands, he returned home and set about completing his bag of tricks, then placed it ready in his car, made sure his alarm was set correctly and went happily to bed.

"I'm telling you Roy, it's gonna be awful-- just awful." Johnny Gage, junior paramedic for squad 51's, voice echoed through the doorway long before his lanky body showed. "we've got duty on the 31st. The 31st, man! Don't you realize what that means? Not only will the whole rest of LA be crazy what with all the . . .the Halloween parties and the trick or treaters and all, but Kelly will be . . will be."

"Will be what," came a softer resigned sounding voice.

"I dunno what he'll be, but I can just beat I won't like it." Johnny's voice finished as it drew closer. "But this year, I'm gonna be ready for him. Yes sir, no matter what he's dreamed up, I'll be prepared. He isn't gonna catch me, uhuh, no way."

In the locker room, finishing up their dressing, Mike Stoker, the engineer and Marco Lopez, lineman, gave each other a knowing glance. They both turned expectantly toward the door leading from bay, however, first through the doorway was the sturdy shape of Roy DeSoto, senior paramedic and Johnny's silently suffering partner. He caught the other two men's glance and rolled his eyes as he walked over to his locker.

Directly behind him bounced Johnny, all lanky 6'1, dark haired dark eyed 160 lbs of him. He didn't walk to his locker, he bounded to it, then stopped, eyeing the door warily suddenly stock-still.

"Hey Roy?" Roy turned as a hand tapped his back. Then he realized it was on the other side of him, stifled a sigh and faced Johnny.

"What Johnny."

Johnny was eyeing his locker, getting so close his nose almost touched the smooth wood. "Can you . . .ummm, I mean just . . .uh . . ."

Roy did sigh this time and turned back to his own dressing. "It's your locker, you open it." He paused with a smile, "Besides I thought this year you were prepared."

Johnny frowned at his partner then carefully, moving off to one side, he reached out one finger and then yanked the door quickly open.

"Wow!" a sarcastic voice piped up, "That was really something, Gage. Whatcha gonna do for your next exciting trick?"

Johnny glared over his shoulder at the short mustached man grinning at him from the doorway.

"Oh shut up Chet."

Marco and Mike exchanged amused glances then headed out of the room. Chet moved closer to the man he called 'his pigeon'. "You look a little keyed up today, Johnny-boy. Someone put uppers in your wheaties?"

"Huh?" Johnny turned to look at him and frowned, "What? Chet what are you . . what kinda remark . . . no!"

Chet chuckled, knowing full well that when Johnny stuttered it meant his mind was thinking too fast for his mouth to keep up with it. That was when he got his pigeon the best because no matter what he-Chet- said, Johnny always sounded lame and confused. He patted the younger man on the head where he was bending over, untying his shoes. "Settle down, boyo, slowly, don't overwork that little pea brain of yours. The shift hasn't even started yet."

Johnny sat up quickly, knocking Chet's hand from his head, "What are you . . .Just . ..just get outta here, Kelly."

Chet chuckled and with one last pat, put his hands into his pocket and whistling Wild Colonial Boy, left the locker area.

Johnny watched him go, his uniform shift loosely held in his hands, his eyes slightly narrowed. He turned to his partner. "You see, Roy! See! See!"

Roy finished pinning his badges on his shirt as he told his partner, "What I see, Johnny, is that you're gonna be late for roll-call if you don't finish getting dressed."

"Huh?" He questioned then turned his attention from where he still stared after Chet back to his hands then down his slender body. He had his boxers and white t-shirt on but no pants, and was in his stocking feet. "Oh. Yeah. Right." He quickly pulled on his shirt then reached into his locker for his pants. He tugged at them but they remained on the hanger. Confused, he tugged a little harder. The hanger swung wildly but the pants stayed bent over the wire. He slid his hand along the fold and cried out in surprise, yanking his hand back, sticking his finger into his mouth as he pulled down the hanger to inspect it closer.

Alerted by his friend's yelp of pain, Roy turned back and moved closer to him, leaning in to see what had happened. Johnny muttered darkly under his breath then shouted, "Kelly!"

Roy looked from the hanger to the finger Johnny still sucked and back. Now Johnny was pulling something from his pants and carefully sticking it into the small dish he kept in his locker to hold loose change and his badges once he removed them from his shirt.

"Pinned your pants to the hanger, huh?" Roy could now see the problem. He pulled the injured finger out of the younger man's mouth to exam it but Johnny pulled away. "I'm ok, I'm fine."

"You're gonna need a bandage on that," Roy said, frowning. "It's still bleeding. Looks like you ripped it pretty good."

Johnny now checked his finger over himself, squeezing it and watching the blood well up and drip. "Looks like I caught the edge right by the nail." He murmured. Then a paper towel blocked his view. He took the offered item and pressed it against the wound. He held pressure on it for awhile, checked it, held pressure again, checked it again, then with a heavy sigh, wrapped the towel firmly around his finger and tried to quickly finish dressing while not getting blood on his fresh uniform.

Just as he buckled his pants, his hand was picked up and before he could protest, Roy had removed the now bloody towel, wiped the cut down and applied a proper bandage. Johnny gave his partner a weak grin as he began attaching his badges.

Roy smiled back at him. "I'll have a cup waitin' for you." He said as he left the room. He heard a muttered, "'Kay." as the door closed behind him.

Shaking his head, Roy entered the kitchen. Mike looked up briefly from where he read the paper on the couch and Marco turned from the stove with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand.

"I saw you get into the squad, Roy. Whatta matter? Widdle Johnny cut himself trying to shave?" Chet snickered from his place at the table. Marco rolled his eyes at Roy who shook his head yet again.

"Chet, pranks are ok, but watch it. He tore his finger pretty deeply on those pins in his pants. You know that in our jobs we get pretty nasty and having an open wound like that is an invitation for infection." Roy cautioned the other man.

Chet shrugged, and sipped his coffee nonchalantly. "I have no idea what you mean, Roy. It must have been something from the Phantom. This IS his time of year you know." He drank more, then set the cup on the table and stretched. "Beside, no one ever died from a little pin-prick. My mother hand-sews and she sticks her fingers all the time. She says it's good luck to leave a little blood on the things she makes. Sorta like she's blessing it." Roy sighed as he filled two cups with coffee, knowing that most of his caution to the prankster would be customarily dismissed.

Chet chuckled silently to himself over the passing conversation. 'Boy, Roy sure worries over Gage. He's not that fragile, although I gotta admit, he's been hurt a time or two. But com'mon, it was just some straight pins. Nothing dangerous.' Then he frowned as another thought crossed his mind. Something in Roy's words struck a remembered cord. Someone else had told him something similar years ago. Faintly he could hear a female voice caution him, 'Remember Chester, a prank is only funny if all parties eventually laugh, including the one pranked. And causing another pain should never be considered funny.' He was sure the voice was that of his Aunt Einin's. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the voice and thoughts attached, delighting instead over all the plans he had for his pigeon this coming week.

"Morning, morning, morning everyone!" Johnny chirped as he bounced into the room. He headed straight for Roy who handed his partner a full cup. He grinned and sipped the brew.

As one, the two then came over to the table and, as was their habit, pulled out chairs beside each other and sat down, almost completely in sync. Chet hid another snicker behind his cup. "Heard you had a little trouble dressing, Gage. Do we have to make sure somebody stays with you to help you?"

Johnny narrowed his eyes at Chet and muttered darkly, "Oh, shut up Chet."

Chet shook his head in mock amazement. "Again such a witty come-back. I must say, your skills of elocution astound me." Marco choked on a chuckle and Mike pulled his paper higher, even Roy found himself smiling at Chet's clever comment.

Johnny's eyes narrowed further as he glared at Chet but he didn't answer.

Chet had baited him enough to know he had him. He inhaled to deliver yet another sting when his eye caught on the hand Johnny held his cup with—and the bandage on his index finger that was already soaked dark red. The comment died as he turned his head. He hadn't really meant to cause any real damage to the paramedic. Part of him acknowledged the truth in what Roy had said. And of the two, if one was likely to get into something messy and then get sick because of it, it would be Gage. Chet sighed, some of the delight in his well-executed prank diminished. Then he strengthened his resolve. 'Well, Roy will keep an eye on him. He worries over the kid worse than a parent,' He was too excited about the lovely list of pranks he had carefully lined up for the youngest crewmember. 'And they won't hurt him, physically at least.' he assured himself with another smile.

Johnny pointedly turned his back on the Irishman after glaring at him for several heartbeats and said to his partner, "I'm gonna start in on the squad. I have a feeling it's gonna be a busy shift." He finished off his coffee as he walked over to the sink. He rinsed out his cup and turned, walking back past the table toward the door to the bay.

Roy had nodded at the other paramedic's words, "Yeah. I think so too. I got the report from Dwyer before he left. They had a slow night but a busy day so we'll need supplies. He also said we'll need to fuel up fairly soon." He too finished his coffee and followed his partner toward the squad.

Johnny called in the calibrations and reset the batteries while Roy pulled out the various boxes and the supply and beginning shift checklists. When Cap walked out of his office a few moments later, he glanced over where both of his paramedics squatted beside the squad, their supplies spread out before them. Johnny had both hands buried in the drug box, sorting and counting and calling out answers to Roy's requests.

Cap watched them for a few moments, amazed again in how fluidly the two unlikely partners work together. This station had been his first exposure to the new paramedic program and he'd only been here now a little less that a year. At first, he'd been surprised at how different the two men were; one quite single, the other very married, one in constant motion, the other's every seeming move very calculated, one prone to emotions all over the spectrum, the other as smooth as a sheet of glass. He'd thought for a while it was a combination programmed for eventual disaster and yet to his amazement, he quickly learned each balanced the other out. Together they were as smooth, as successful, and as professional as any team a Captain could ever dream of. And he counted both now as friends.

With a smile, he called out, "Roll call gentlemen." Both turned instantly to him and, as he could have predicted, Johnny's face broke out into a grin. "Sure thing Cap. Just let us get this stuff back." As the two began inserting the items back into their places, the tones sounded.

Johnny looked at Roy, "Here we go!" Roy nodded as they quickly secured the rest of their equipment, shut the compartments, and ran to their respective places while the dispatcher's voice toned out;

"Squad 51, man injured by power tool, 23875 South Pendleton Blvd. 2-3-8-7-5 South Pendleton Blvd. Cross street Merchant. Ambulance is responding. Time out: 08:02"

Cap scribbled the address down as he grabbed up the mic and acknowledged. "10-4. LA. Squad 51 KMG 365." He tore off the sheet and handed it to Roy while Mike hit the button and the front bay doors slide open. Roy handed the sheet to Johnny, turned over the truck's motor, hit the lights and put the truck in gear. As it pulled forward down to the street, he hit the sirens. "Left" Johnny said as he looked the paper over and mentally reviewed the path needed. "We'll take Sepulveda first to Deacon. The map said Walker is down to one lane for repairs. Deacon will bypass it and bring us out to Merchant."

Roy nodded his understanding, knowing that Johnny was just giving him a head's up. His talented navigationally oriented partner would make sure he knew about each turn as they reached it. Johnny scanned the street signs as well as the red-lighted intersections, calling out "Clear" to his partner at each. Soon they were pulling into a nice neighborhood with long driveways, multi-floored houses and well kept lawns.

Both men leapt from their vehicle and ran to the compartments, pulling them open and grabbing out gear. As they headed up the walkway, they heard a frantic voice call out, "Here! Over here!" They followed the sound.

Both men rounded the corner and saw a garage set back from the house. Standing up and then running toward them was a man, approximately 25 with blood splattered across his face and chest and dripping down one arm and hand. Johnny quickly freed his hands of the equipment he carried and rushed toward the man, saying, "Whoa there, whoa, now hang on. Let me help you."

The man tugged out of the gentle hold Johnny had on him and instead grabbed the startled paramedic and pulled him toward the side of the wrap-around porch.

"Hurry! Hurry! It's my wife! She can't breathe! She's bleeding! Do something!"

Johnny dug in his heels, trying to get a better look at the man in front of him. "Hold on, hold on. My partner will take care of your wife. Let me take a look at you."

The man's eyes were wide and panicked as he pulled harder on Johnny, causing him to stumble slightly, "I'm not hurt!" He screamed. "It's not me! My wife! Carol! Carol's hurt!"

Johnny regained his balance but still held his ground. Desperate now, the man grabbed both of Johnny's shoulders and put his face right into Johnny's as he screamed, "It's not me! This is fake! It was a trick all right! A Halloween trick! OH GOD! Carol! She's hurt for real." Seeing in Johnny's wide blinking eyes he still didn't believe him, he swiped one hand over the blood dripping from his arm and swiped it across the paramedic's face. "It's not real! Coloring and Karo all right! I'm not hurt!!"

Johnny's tongue instinctively licked at the substance on his mouth and he tasted the familiar sweet stickiness. He turned and grabbed on the cases, shoving one into the panicked man's hands and headed toward where Roy had knelt beside a dark haired woman lying on her stomach. Behind him, a patrol car and the ambulance pulled up and stopped. The attendants set about getting out the gurney while the officer headed toward the two paramedics.

"Roy?" Johnny called out as he dropped beside his partner.

Roy shook his head as his hands moved across the woman's body. "Don't know yet. She's got a gouge bleeding on the side of her head over her ear. Breathing sounds a little rough."

Sure enough, they could hear the constricted sounds of her harsh breathing. Roy finished his fast assessment. "No other obvious injures I can see and her airway looks clear. Let's roll her over and see if we can find something else."

Carefully the two rolled the woman onto her back. She wasn't very big, her features petite and right now, slack with unconsciousness. Her lips were tinged blue and even though Roy jutted her jaw forward, her breath still wheezed. Roy began getting vitals while Johnny set about setting up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Rescue 51, how do you read me?"

Roy called out the vitals and Johnny wrote the information on the pad on top of the biophone.

"Rescue 51, we read you. Go ahead." Came Dixie's clear voice.

As he placed the receiver to his ear again, Johnny's his eyes caught a glimpse of something.

He frowned, leaning closer to inspect it. A tiny amount of blood marked the woman's neck and he traced it, trying to locate it's source as he said, "Hey Roy? There's something . . ." Then suddenly he cursed softly, his hand digging into the pouch on his belt. He pulled out a pair of scissors and a hemostat.

Roy turned to his partner and in surprise watched as the younger man began picking carefully at a slightly bloody area on the woman's neck. "Johnny, I don't think you . . ." his voice trailed off as Johnny snipped something then began pulling slowly and making unwinding motions. Finally, he held something up held tight in the hemostats, blood making the fine strands visible. Immediately the woman's breathing improved.

"What in the . . ." Johnny breathed, frowning. Leaning over his shoulder, the man gulped and sat down suddenly. "My . . .my fault. That's . . uh .. . that's the line I attached to the porch to drop a spider down on."

Instantly all three realized what must have happened but a squawking from the biophone pulled the two paramedics back to work.

"51, do you have a victim? 51, come in." Brackett's voice called.

Johnny dropped the line still attached to the hemostats into the biophone and grabbed up the receiver. He quickly called in the required information and before long, the woman—who had regained consciousness—and her husband, were seated in the ambulance with Roy.

As Johnny gathered the equipment Roy hadn't taken with him, he was joined by the officer. "Uh, Gage?"

Johnny turned and grinned at him. "What, Brady?"

"You ok?"

Johnny tilted his head in confusion, set the trauma box in its place then shut the compartment. "Yeah. Why?"

Brady Collins extended a handkerchief and wiped it across Johnny's face then showed it to him.

Johnny looked at the red mess smearing the handkerchief and rolled his eyes. He explained what had happened and Brady laughed then sobered, shaking his head. "He nearly killed his wife completely by accident." He looked up at the paramedic. "Some Halloween, huh."

Johnny nodded, "Yeah. Trick or treat." he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. With that, he finished up and drove off to Rampart to get his partner.

Johnny ducked into the bathroom as soon as he got to the hospital and washed his face. The red die left a reddish streak across his cheek but there was nothing he could do about that now. Fortunately, his natural coloring somewhat disguised it. After leaving the bathroom, he headed for the nurse's station and a cup of coffee with his favorite head nurse. "Hi Dixie,"

Dixie looked up and smiled, "Well if it isn't the other half of the hero team."

Johnny looked confused and Dixie pointed her pen toward a treatment door. "Mr. Jackson in there has been singing praises about your keen-eyes for the last fifteen minutes."

Johnny silently told her how he felt about that with a roll of his eyes. Dixie smiled, knowing later Johnny might be pleased but right now it was still too close to what could have been a tragedy.

"Did Roy . . ." Johnny began and Dixie nodded, "Kel and I both with the assessment. I think he's pretty proud of you too."

Johnny shrugged with one shoulder where he leaned on the counter, his head looking down at the pencil he drummed on the pile of charts. "He'd've seen it too."

"Maybe, but maybe not in time." A voice came from behind him just as Dixie shoved a full cup toward him.

Johnny turned to face his partner. "How's she doing?"

Roy accepted his own cup then told him about the Doctor's findings and how she'd fallen off the steps because something had tightened around her neck. He sipped it again before he finished with, "Doc said she should be fine. Slight concussion at the most. He'll keep her at least over night for observation but she'll probably be good to go by morning."

Johnny sipped his drink as he bobbed his head. "That's good, that's good." Then he patted his pockets, "Oh Dix, we need some stuff." He found the list and pulled it out with a look of triumph.

She took the list from him and began pulling out the supplies, talking as she did. "I didn't hear everything, Roy. Why were Mr. Jackson's clothes all covered in . . . stuff."

Johnny snorted as Roy answered. "He was working on making things for this weekend. You know, like fake blood from red die and karo syrup, wooden headstones, a coffin."

Dixie eyed him over her shoulder. "Ooookkkkaaaayyy?"

"Yeah, he said he was trying to set up the ultimate spook house for a neighborhood contest this weekend. It was while he was working the power saw that he got the idea of faking cutting off his arm and decided to see if the fake blood could really convince someone it was real. So he set up the fake arm on the table then poured the blood on it and over his sleeve, pulled his arm up inside it and then screamed. When he saw his wife look out the window, he held up his 'wounded arm' and fell to his knees. She must have called dispatch before she left the house."

Johnny shook his head, "Good thing she did. When we got there, she was barely breathing and her husband was totally panicked. By the time we would've been called, it would've been too late."

Dixie and Roy nodded in sad agreement. Johnny shook his head. "You know? He said he just wanted to see how "freaked out" she'd get. He said he thought it would be funny. I don't see what's so funny about scaring someone like that."

Neither one answered and with a sigh, Johnny finished off his coffee, picked up the supplies, smiled weakly at Dixie and headed out. Roy turned to go with him but both turned back when the nurse called out, "Guys?"

As they looked at her, she shook her pen at them, "I never think it's funny when someone gets hurt so you guys be careful out there." The two men gave her both a grin then with a slight wave, they headed out.

Once in the squad, Johnny called them 10-8 back at eh station to refuel and Roy headed that direction. For several miles, silence filled the cab. Then,

"Hey Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't get it."

"Don't get what?" Roy asked. When there came no answer, he glanced over toward his partner. Johnny was slouched back in his seat. His right arm resting on the door, his right hand bracketing his face, serious brown eyes staring out the windshield and dark brows angled into a frown.

"Don't get what, Johnny?" Roy asked again.

Johnny startled slightly at his name, "Huh?" He straightened slightly and looked at his partner. "Oh. I don't get what the big deal's about people wanting to scare people. I mean, look at that guy we just left! Now fortunately Doc said his wife is gonna be awright but what if she weren't? I mean, she hit her head pretty hard. Suppose she had hit her head on the edge of that concrete step instead of the grill. Now that coulda been really bad."

Roy saw where his partner was going. The doctor had told them that since the grill had moved as she fell, she had received more of a glancing blow. He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. It would've been bad."

"And he panicked." Johnny continued as he warmed to the topic. "He didn't even think to call us. She'd called us for him. It's just lucky we got there when we did."

Roy nodded again, agreeing. "I don't know why, Johnny. I just don't know."

Johnny shook his head, "People just don't think. I mean, what was so funny about making his wife think he'd hurt himself that way? I mean, we see people get hurt like that all the time. For real! And it's not funny, not at all!"

Roy paused then looked at his partner, "Now wait a minute, Johnny. I agree with you that we see that and I agree it's not funny when it really happens." He paused again as he looked around at the intersection before he carefully turned the squad onto the next street. "But I remember you told me you went and saw that new horror movie about that guy with the chainsaw. You said you wanted to take a girl to see it just so she'd get scared."

Johnny turned in his seat, his brows down, "That's different, Roy."

Roy hid a grin at the affronted look on his partner's face. "Oh?' He asked, "How's it different?"

Johnny flipped out his hands and resettled back into his seat, "That's easy. It's a movie, that's how."

Roy blinked as he tried to follow 'Gage Logic'. Finally, he shook his head and admitted, "I don't see . . ."

Johnny turned again toward his partner, his whole demeanor one of explaining something to a child. "That's because it's Hollywood, Roy." At Roy's still confused look, he sighed and went on. "It was a movie. You knew it was all make believe. It's ok to be scared then because you know it will all end in an hour or so and everything will be awright." He shook his head, frowning again, "But in real life, well, you just never know, man, you just never know."

Roy's eyebrows raised in surprised. He actually not only understood his friend's point now, but also had to agree with him. Johnny was back in his slouch again, his hand on his face. "And if you really care about someone, then why would you want to panic them like that?"

Roy nodded again, "I don't know Johnny,"

Johnny gave a heavy sigh, "Neither do I, Roy, neither do I."