Ten O'clock High
by ardavenport
He heard a siren.
Getting louder.
But it wasn't the squad's siren. John Gage knew that one too well. This one was different. Higher.
Why was he hearing it?
He turned his head. Opened his eyes. He saw blurry gray and black and white. And blue.
Oh, no.
"Johnny?" Roy DeSoto, his partner.
There was an oxygen mask over his face. A taste like air and plastic.
"Hey, don't move. We're on our way to the hospital." Roy gripped his left arm. There was an I.V.
He reached with his right hand for the mask. Roy tried to stop him, but he pulled it down far enough down to speak.
" - - mm gon be sick - - "
The mask came off. When Gage turned to the side, straining against the straps of the stretcher, there was a paper bag for him to throw up in. Marco had made burritos for lunch. Roy loosened the restraint strap across his chest as the convulsions continued. Soon enough there wasn't anything left. But Gage lay trembling and panting over the bag for another moment, fearing that it would start again. He finally lay back down.
" - - aw nee aher? - - "
He could taste the stomach acid and refried beans all the way up in his nose.
"Here you go."
There was a cup of stale, warm water. But it was still water. Roy supported his head as he rinsed the worst of it back down his throat and snorted, trying to clear his nose. Roy wiped his face with a tissue.
"Here let's put this back on you."
Roy put the mask back over his nose and mouth, sliding the strap back over the back of his head. Air and plastic again, but it wasn't as bad as the burritos. The nausea receded. Blinking, Gage's vision cleared. His view of the boxy inside of an ambulance, drifted in a light-headed wander. His partner leaned over him. There was another person on a stretcher on the other side of the ambulance. Unmoving. Oxygen mask over his face. I.V. hanging overhead.
"He's the guy you tried to get out of the closet. He's pretty bad, but the oxygen is helping and he's stable now."
Gage nodded and relaxed, dropping his head back onto the pillow.
. . . . . tried to get out of the closet.
What an idiot.
When they entered the house with a shade tree in the front yard at exactly 10 AM, on a run of 'man unconscious', no one answered the doorbell. But it was unlocked and when they looked inside they found four unconscious people. In a living room with beaded curtains, bright pink sofas and psychedelic posters on the walls. They knelt beside each person. They were all alive and unresponsive.
"Roy, do you smell something besides incense?"
"Yeah, I think so."
They called for a fire engine to check for gas and started to drag the people out into the front yard. John had the last one, who stirred and asked about Dave and waved toward a closet. John set him back down on the pink sofa and went to look.
First mistake. Should have taken the victim out first, then gone to look. He did yell to Roy that there might be another one and that he was going to check.
The closet had a sliding door and silver duct tape all around the edge, but it was not sealed shut, just very hard to open. When the door came free it went back all the way and he felt like he'd walked into a wall of cold sickly air. The victim was propped in a corner. A male, maybe 25 to 30 years of age. The edges of his mouth blue.
Try to get the victim out quick? Or go back to the squad for the mask and air tank first?
He took a big gulp of air to hold his breath and grabbed the unconscious man. He knew he got him out of the closet. But he didn't remember anything past that. He didn't even remember falling.
That was his big mistake.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Gage opened his eyes again, blinking. The ambulance slowed and turned. Backed up. The doors opened.
"You'll be okay, right? I'll be right here."
Gage nodded. Roy went with the unconscious man.
More orderlies came in and picked up his stretcher. He saw a brief expanse of bright blue California sky before they went into the Emergency entryway. They moved quickly around a corner and then stopped. Six patients coming in all at once. Five victims and him. They would be backed up for a bit, and he wasn't the worst off of the bunch by far.
He moved his legs against the cold oxygen tank resting between them and he tried to listen to his partner's explanation of what had happened through the usual hospital noise.
" . . . they had a tank of ether, nitrous oxide and oxygen in a closet and it looks like they were trying to get high from it . . . "
" - - - - - DOCTOR THOMPSON TO SURGERY - - - - - "
" . . . severe hypoxia and this one has . . . ."
" - - - - - MISS DUZWICKI CALL THE LAB - - - - - "
" . . . . put both of them in three . . . . "
" . . . . Johnny walked right into it . . . . "
" - - - - - DOCTOR MORTON TO EMERGENCY - - - - - "
Gage hoped he wouldn't get Doctor Morton. They didn't get along. Morton had a terrible bedside manner. All around him he saw nurses and doctors in white, quickly pushing patients past. He saw another paramedic uniform that was not Roy. Gansky? They would have sent for another squad with so many victims. And him. After his screw-up.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
A hand touched his forehead.
"Johnny?" The head of Dixie McCall, the Emergency department's chief nurse, blotted out the florescent lights overhead. Blond hair, white nurse's cap. Concerned and gorgeous eyes. That could instantly turn cold and cut him down to half-size if he ever hit on her for a date, which had happened only once, a long time ago.
He raised his free hand to pull the mask away to tell her he was fine, but she stopped him.
"Just stay right there. We'll take care of you in just a minute." He kept still. Her severe expression softened. She told him not to worry and moved on.
" - - - - - DOCTOR SANCHZ, ADMISSIONS - - - - - "
"Joe, can you take care of Gage?"
"Sure."
Good, no Morton. It would be Doctor Early. A moment later, different orderlies came and the stretcher moved again. Lights. Doorway. One of the orderlies took the oxygen bottle off the stretcher. Then both of them took his shoulders and feet and, with a nurse's hands under the small of his back, slid him onto the examination table. Pale tiled ceiling. He blinked under the too bright examination lights. The men left, but a young nurse remained. Cute, too. But . . . . there was a wedding ring. Too bad.
Gage was getting a headache. It had started in the hall. Easy to ignore at first, but it was getting worse, turning into a pounding pain in his head. The bright lights weren't helping. The nausea was creeping back. And he never wanted to see another burrito again in his life.
The nurse grasped his wrist, her fingers lining up on his pulse. When she finished taking his vital signs she wrote them down on a chart and put it on a tray.
Ether, nitrous oxide and oxygen? Why weren't any of those people from the house dead? They'd been burning incense. And there had been candles, too. He didn't think that nitrous oxide was explosive, but either? And oxygen? Why hadn't they blown themselves up?
Doctor Early arrived, looked at the chart and put it aside. He smiled but stuck a pen light in his eyes anyway. Gage winced but looked where Early told him to. Early loosened the mask.
"Hi John. Roy told me you were sick in the ambulance. Are you feeling any better?"
"Still a little nauseous, Doc. And I've got a headache."
"Well, we can give you something for that. But right now oxygen's the best thing for you. Clear that gas out of your lungs. You're doing a lot better than the others." Early lightly touched his face on the left side and turned his head, hand under his chin. "This looks superficial. Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"Wha . . . ?"
Early felt along the sides and back of his head, ran his fingers through his hair. "Roy said you went head first into the middle of the gas. He said you were out cold for twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes?"
"Mmm-humm." Early nodded. Then he lifted Gage's right arm where there was an enormous bruise on his forearm and elbow. "Roy checked you out. And I don't feel any bumps. On your head at least. And your eyes look good. Do you feel anything else?"
Gage's eyes were still fixed on the bruise. He moved his feet. "Uh, my knee."
Early moved to stand by his legs. "Which one?"
"I'm not sure."
They rolled his pant legs up. Both were bruised. One scraped and bleeding, but not much. The blood was already clotting.
"Wow, I didn't feel a thing, Doc."
"Well, they used a pretty good anesthetic. Or in their case, misused. Nurse, I need some gauze and antiseptic. And then get ice packs for that arm and his face." She got the supplies and then left.
Early dabbed at the bloody knee, but it clearly wasn't serious. The nurse came back with two ice packs. The bruised arm lay rested on one of them, but the nurse had to hold the other to his face for him since the I.V. was still in his arm on that side. Early went to a drug cabinet and got something for his headache and a cup of water. from the sink. But when he returned and raised the head of the table upright, Gage had to close his eyes from a sudden dizziness before he could take the pills, getting him extra attention from Early. It only lasted a moment. The nurse took the I.V. out and applied pressure to his arm before covering it with a bandage.
Early leaned over him again. "I don't see anything serious here. But I want you to rest a bit. Take in a little more of that oxygen." Early put the mask back on before Gage could say anything. "After that I think you can go. But take the rest of the day off. And come right back if the dizziness continues or any other symptoms don't go away."
"Thanks, Doc." The mask muffled his words, but Early heard and gave him a smile before leaving with the nurse.
Alone, holding the ice pack to his face next to the oxygen mask, Gage kept tensing different muscles in his body, but he didn't find any more bruises. The ones he had felt sore, hot and swollen now, but the ice did help. He closed his eyes.
Somebody should have told those people that the sixties were over. Along with the pink couch, they had bright yellow chairs, a low round coffee table and floor cushions that got in their way when they dragged the people out. And there'd been a fish tank. And a whole shelf of candles.
"Where's Dave?" the last man on the couch looked up at him with completely dilated eyes.
"We've got them all out. We don't think it's safe in here. We're just going to get you out, too." Gage reached down for him.
"No, man. He's still in there. Tell him to get out. Let someone else have a turn." The man rolled his head from side to side. Gage looked at a door on the other side of the sofa. It had a big blue, white and red Peter Max poster taped to it and there was silvery tape all along the edges.
"Johnny?"
Gage started out of his doze. Roy DeSoto stood by him.
"Oh, hey."
"Doc says you're cleared to go whenever you feel ready."
"Oh, yeah." He sat up, took the mask off and breathed in a big lungful of hospital smell. It was better than the other stuff he'd had that morning, though he was still remembering Marco's burritos.
Roy pulled the ice pack on his face back a little.
"Looks bad, but the doc didn't see any head injuries either. Here let me get that." He went to the other side of the table to where his arm had slid off the second ice pack to Gage's arm. He held Gage's arm up with the ice pack under it. "You had us worried there. Even Chet's yelling couldn't revive you."
Gage grinned. "I must have been really out. Chet's annoying enough to wake the dead."
"Feeling better now?"
"The doc gave me something for the headache and that's starting to work at least. But I've had better days, believe me. Back there, when did you get to me?"
"I heard you say there might be another victim. But when you didn't come out, I looked in just in time to see you go down. I went to the squad and got the air mask and tank - - - "
"That's what I should've done, pfffttt." Gage sneered at his own stupidity. "But I thought I could get the guy out. Even after we knew there was gas in there."
"Well, we weren't sure, and we'd already been exposed to it, so that might have affected your judgement."
Gage scowled, unwilling to admit that a little ether and nitrous oxide might have gotten to his judgement.
"Anyway, Engine 51 drove up just as I was carrying you out. The guys took care of the house and shut off the gas. And somebody called the cops; it's all their problem now. I was pretty busy with five victims, and you, until the ambulances came."
"Did we ever find out what they were doing in there?"
"Oh yeah. The one who called us came to and told the doctors. She said they were trying to create the perfect high. Something they could breath in continuously all day long, but just blow away if the cops came by. So, they were testing it out in that closet. They called it the gas chamber. The first guy goes in and boom, he's down for the count. So, they just figured they had it turned on too high. So, they adjusted the gas and tried again.
"Are you serious?"
DeSoto shook his head at the lunacy. "That's what Dr. Brackett said. Anyway, the second guy does get high. But the first guy is still out and they can't wake him up. That's when they called us. But they didn't want us to know what they were doing, so they lit the incense and sprayed air freshener all over the place to cover up the smell."
"They lit the incense? When they had gas in the room? And they didn't blow themselves up?"
"That's what the Captain said. So, anyway we got there and you know the rest."
"Yeah, up until the part where I passed out." He pulled the ice pack away from his cheek. "Y'know, how brain dead does anyone have to be to try something like that?"
The humor immediately fled from Roy's face. "Well, actually that's what's probably happened to that last guy in the closet. . . . . he's still breathing, but he probably won't get any better. Too long without enough oxygen. And they're still not sure about one of the others."
"Oh." Gage shrugged, putting the ice back on his cheek. "Well . . . . you can't deny that they were stupid, but nobody deserves to have something like that happen to them."
"Yeah."
Gage took the ice pack off his cheek again. Looked at it. Put it back on. Took it off and looked at it again.
"Does this look bad?" He touched his cheek, turning to his partner.
"Oh no. It's just a little bruised."
Gage scowled, looking down at his cheek, pushing the skin up to try and see it better. He could just see the edge of a blue patch. "I don't know. It feels really swollen now." He probed the inside of his mouth with his tongue. No cuts there. But he had a cut on his lip and that felt swollen and it stung when he touched his tongue to it.
"Well, put the ice back on it. That'll help." Roy readjusted the ice pack he still held to Gage's bruised arm. Gage complied. Then he sat up straighter.
"Hey, is there a mirror in here? Maybe I could take a look at it."
DeSoto turned his head, looking around. "I don''t know if they'd have a mirror in here."
"Well, look around. They might have something."
Roy laid Gage's arm and the ice pack down and patted them. "You just keep this here." He looked around the perimeter. Metal cabinets, drawers, shelves, boxes of medical supplies. No mirrors. Gage kept probing his face under the ice pack, opening his mouth wide and experimentally moving his mouth from side to side.
"No mirrors." Roy's hands dropped to his sides.
Gage stopped touching his face and lowered the ice. "Sure it doesn't look that bad?"
Roy shrugged. "Well, it's bruised. But it's not too bad. You can tell people you were in a fight."
"Oh, very funny." He put the ice pack aside. "We better go."
"Are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the table and slid down off it. Roy steadied him.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Gage held up his hands. "Yeah, yeah." He shook his head, the dizzy spell already passing.
"I can drive you home in the squad." They walked together toward the door.
"Yeah, except my car is at the station."
"We'll go there and I'll drive you home."
"And how are you going to get back?"
"I'll have Joanne pick me up."
The hall outside had considerably calmed down. The patients and gurneys and extra people had gone away.
"I'll just lie down at the firehouse for a few house and go home."
"A firehouse isn't exactly a restful place. If we get a run you'll be up and halfway to the squad before you remember you're off duty. Let me just drive you home." They turned a corner to go out the Emergency entrance.
And almost ran into a young woman coming in. She started, staring at Gage's face before worriedly averting her eyes and hurrying on. Gage gave his partner a cross look.
"Doesn't look that bad, eh?"
Roy patted his arm. "Well, you could always tell people you lost the fight."
"Sheesh. I don't believe you."
"Come on. I'll take you home."
They left the Emergency together.
[b] ===== END ===== [/b]
Disclaimer: All characters belong to whoever owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.