Into the Darkness


It wasn't exactly the kind of weather a firefighter appreciates - at least not when there are fires to fight. When Johnny and Roy returned to the station from Rampart, the rest of the crew was already there; exhausted and sweaty. Johnny limped over to the sofa, and, pushing Henry toward Chet, eased his achy bones on to the sticky vinyl, and sighed. Roy went to the sink for a glass of water.

"Did the chick make it?" Chet asked Johnny.

"Yeah, she'll be okay. She just got a lot of smoke. Her mom was burned pretty bad, but Dr. Brackett seems to think she'll be okay, too."

"Great news, Gage. She seemed pretty, uh, grateful to you for getting her out.

Johnny raised an eyebrow and glared at Chet.

"Chet - her apartment building was burning down. She would have died. You expect her not to be grateful to get out?"

"All I'm saying is that she seemed particularly grateful to you."

Johnny glanced toward Roy who was now sitting at the table with the rest of the guys.

"Leave me out of it." Roy said without looking up.

"Chet, you're... you" Johnny clenched his fists in frustration and rose from the sofa to get something to drink.

"I think you should call her when she gets out of the hospital. You know, to make sure she's okay. I mean, she and her mom are gonna be homeless ya know." Chet said.

"If you're so worried about her, you call her!" Johnny replied.

"Gage, I just don't get you! She was a gorgeous chick, and she definitely had a thing for you!"

Johnny forcefully set his empty glass down on the counter. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

As Marco prepared that night's dinner, Johnny and Roy shared the Sunday paper - trading sections. As evening began to fall, the temperature outside finally began to drop into the eighties. It was still quite hot inside the station. All the windows were open, but there was little breeze, and Johnny could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his side. The fact that Marco had the oven on wasn't helping matters. Johnny stood up, grabbed a soda out of the fridge and walked out the back door to the parking lot. The sun was down, but the sky was still lit. Leaning up against the side of his Land Rover, he looked up at the stars. A second later, he heard the door open again, and looked up to see Roy walking toward him.




"I just talked to Brackett. The woman and her daughter are gonna be fine." Roy said.

"Good. That's good." Johnny replied.

"Yeah. Chet's getting to you, isn't he?"

Johnny drank the remainder of his soda, and tossed the can into the garbage.

"Naw," Johnny sighed. "Well, maybe. I dunno."

"Listen. Don't pay attention to him. You know he is trying to get a rise out of you. You should know Chet by now."

"I do! But, Roy - he's always giving me crap about chicks having a thing for me. Remember when he talked me into calling that girl, what's-her-name… the chick with the broken leg….. "

"Elaine" Roy replied, folding his arms in front of him.

"Yeah. And I took her out! She was nuts, man! I have to stop listening to him."

The claxon sounded. Both men ran back into the station and jumped in the squad.

"Engine 51, Squad 51, warehouse fire - 1460 Sherman Street, cross street Dakota - time out, twenty thirty two."



When they arrived at the warehouse, it was virtually engulfed in flames. Johnny thought to himself that it was fortunate the fire had started late in the evening on a Sunday, therefore there was probably no one in the building. Before he had even finished the thought, Cap Stanley came up to the squad.

"There're two men still in there - Gage, DeSoto - go in on the East side."

The men put on their turnout coats and air masks and headed toward the east side of the building. Chet and Marco had a hose aimed at the spot where Johnny and Roy would enter what was left of the building. Roy climbed through the relatively small opening that Stoker had made for them with his axe. Johnny followed.

"Hello?" Roy yelled into the blinding smoke. "Can you hear me?"

There was no response.

Roy continued through what narrow passage-way was left. The old wood frame of the warehouse had burned fast and hot. Fallen ceiling beams were lying across the floor everywhere. The smoke made it difficult to see more than a few feet. He lifted timber out of his way, and continued on. Johnny followed close behind, both men calling out to anyone who could hear them.




"Hello?" Johnny yelled. He knew that his voice wasn't carrying with his air mask covering his face. These two men might possibly be only yards away, and Johnny couldn't see them. It was doubtful that they'd even be able to hear him. Just then, he thought he heard a muffled plea over the sounds of sirens and hoses and falling wood.

"Roy! I heard something!"

They both froze in their tracks.

"Hello?" Johnny yelled from beneath his mask.

There was no reply.

"Dammit!" Johnny said, and yanked off his helmet and his oxygen mask so that he could be heard.

"Where are you!!?" He yelled again, feeling the smoke burning his throat and stinging his eyes.

"We're here! Help us!!!" exclaimed the voice.

Johnny looked around and saw something red under a fallen door. He motioned for Roy to follow him. Still carrying his helmet and air mask, Johnny climbed over rubble to the spot from where the voice had come.

"Thank God you found us - I don't think he's breathing!" said a large man whose face was black from soot and smoke.

Johnny reached over and lifted a large beam. Under it was the second man, unconscious.

"They're both here, Roy." Johnny said. "This guy's unconscious."

Johnny turned his attention to the less badly-injured man.

"You're gonna be alright." Johnny said to the man. "My partner and I are gonna get you and your friend outta here. I promise."

Johnny reached over and put his own air mask on the unconscious man. He grabbed the man's wrist and felt for a pulse. It was slow and thready - but there. As Johnny reached over to try to pull the fallen door off the first man, he realized that the thin floor was creaking and swaying with his movements.

Roy reached over and began to help Johnny with the heavy door. As they moved the door off the injured men, one of the floor boards just a foot or two away gave way and fell through to the basement of the warehouse. Johnny and Roy both assisted the first man as he stood up and climbed over the second man. Roy grabbed his arm and began to lead him to safety.

"I'll take him out and come back " Roy shouted through his air mask.

"Ok. I think I've almost got this guy free, " Johnny yelled back

When Roy and the first victim stepped out of the building, the two paramedics from Station 8 ran over with a gurney, and took over the care of the victim.

Roy was fighting his way back to where he had left Johnny, the unconscious man had begun to move a bit, and moan. Johnny pulled the last remaining board from the man's legs. The man began to pant and choke. He yanked the mask off his face.

"Hey, man - you're going to be okay." He said, replacing the mask. "We're gonna get you outta here - I promise - but you need to keep that mask on!."

Johnny wasn't even certain the man could hear him over the noise of the fire and the commotion outside the warehouse. The smoke was burning his throat and he could barely even hear himself speaking. Boards and beams were falling to the floor all around him. Roy appeared again to help him get the second man out.

Johnny knelt down and removed the air mask from the man's face. He put the strap over his head and placed the mask back on his own face.

"Let's go!" Roy hollered - not even certain Johnny could hear him.

"Right behind you!" Johnny yelled back, as Roy disappeared into the thick smoke.

He turned around to pick up his helmet, but couldn't see it.



"Dammit!"

He looked down into the space where the floor board had fallen through to the basement. His helmet had to have fallen down through that space. It was just too hard to see anything. The smoke was thick and black. He knelt down on the floor to attempt a better look. As he did, he felt the entire floor give way beneath him. Everything went black.

When Roy reached safe ground outside the building, he carefully lowered the patient to the ground. Instinctively, he looked over his shoulder for Johnny, but didn't see anything except smoke coming from the warehouse. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Something was wrong.

"Marco, can you grab the biophone and oxygen from the Squad?"

Marco returned with the equipment. As Roy hurriedly began to work on his patient, he realized that Johnny must be in trouble.

Roy spotted Captain Stanley and waved to get his attention.

"Cap - I think Johnny's in trouble!"

Cap waved over one of the medics from Station 8 to take over the patient, and ordered Marco and Roy back into the building to find Johnny. Both men once again donned their air tanks and helmets, and headed into the thick smoke.



When they reached the area where the door had fallen on the men, Roy and Marco saw the gaping hole where once had been a floor. Leaning carefully over the opening of the hole, Roy felt his throat tighten when he finally spotted Johnny. He was lying face-down, on the concrete floor, covered with smoldering, smoking timber.

He wasn't moving.

"Lopez! Get the stokes! Quickly!"

Marco turned and ran in the direction from which he'd come.

Roy found an area of floor that was relatively stable, and lowered himself to the basement floor.

Roy pulled Johnny's left arm out from underneath him. He removed his glove, and felt Johnny's wrist for a pulse. Thank God, Roy thought to himself.

"Johnny! Johnny, can you hear me?" there was no answer. No movement.

He could see Johnny's chest rising, so he knew he was breathing. Marco and Chet returned with the stokes and after securing it to a concrete pillar, lowered it down to Roy. He gently lifted Johnny into the basket and he was pulled up through the hole.. Roy climbed up when the Stokes was safely on solid floor. The three men carried their friend out of the burning building.

####


By the time Marco, Chet and Roy had reached the ambulance with Johnny, Roy could see the large gash on Johnny's forehead and blood seeping from a knot in the back of his head. He was still unconscious. The attendants loaded the gurney into the ambulance.


Captain Stanley ran over to Roy. "The two victims are already en-route to Rampart. You go with Johnny."

Roy didn't even take time to reply to the captain. He jumped into the ambulance. Marco slammed the doors, and Johnny and Roy left for Rampart.

The ride was bumpy. It was always tricky starting an IV in an ambulance. Roy certainly didn't want to miss a vein on this patient. He tried hard to focus on what he needed to do, but it was so hard to see his partner and best friend so helpless. As the IV needle punctured the skin on Johnny's arm, he began to stir.

"Roy - what happened?" Johnny moaned and tried to sit up.

Roy tried to conceal his relief that Johnny was finally awake and alert. He held Johnny's arm firmly with his left hand while he removed the needle with his right.

"Just lie still, Junior, you're gonna be fine. You fell through the floor, and hit your head. You didn't have your helmet on. You got whacked pretty good." Roy said as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his partner's arm.

"Oh, man. The Cap is gonna kill me."

"The Cap is gonna be glad you're all right," said Roy.

"Maybe. But then he's still gonna kill me."

####



Dr. Early, Dr. Brackett and Dixie surrounded Johnny's bed in Exam Room 2.

"Johnny - do you know what day it is?" Dr. Early asked.

"Sunday." Johnny answered.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Um… yeah, some of it. I fell."

Dr. Brackett moved around the bed, examining Johnny's legs and arms for injury. "You sure did."

Dr. Early was examining Johnny's pupils with a pen light.

"Do you hurt anywhere besides your head?" Asked Dr. Early.

"Not really. Well, I'm kinda sore all over. But I'm really okay., doc."

"Why don't you let us determine that Johnny?" Brackett said as he pulled the blanket back up over Johnny's torso.

"You don't seem to have any fractures - just some cuts on your head and a mild concussion," said Early.

"Good!" Johnny looked toward the foot of the bed, and grinned at Roy. "I can go home!"

Dr. Early walked around to the other side of Johnny's bed. "No, we're going to stitch up your head, and keep you overnight for observation. I don't see any reason why you couldn't go home tomorrow."

"Great!" Johnny laid back on the bed and sighed.

"We're going to go check on those two men you brought it. We'll check back with you in a bit, " Dr. Brackett said as he and Dr. Early made their way out the door into the corridor.

Dixie leaned over while she stitched Johnny's head, looking him right in the eyes. "You are really lucky, John. Where the hell was your helmet?"

"Gage doesn't need a helmet! His head is hard as a rock!" Chet walked in the room smiling.





"Chet, don't even start," Johnny said just as Dixie finished the stitches, and was covering the wound with a bandage.

"Well! I'll leave you guys alone to debate the complexities of the human skull," Dixie remarked, "Call me if you need anything, John. We'll have you admitted soon, and then you can get some sleep, in your own room."

"John, they outta give you a discount rate at this place," Chet said. "You must hold the department record for time spent at Rampart."

"Well Chet, what can I say? The nurses like to have me around."

Roy patted Johnny on the foot and eased toward the door. "I'm gonna go call the station and tell the rest of the guys that you're okay. C'mon Chet, let's let Johnny get some rest."

Roy held the door while Chet left the room.

"Uh, wait - Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"Listen - thanks. I mean it. I woulda bought it back there if you hadn'ta found me.

"No problem. Get some rest. I'll be back later." Roy said.

"K." Johnny replied, and lay back against the pillow. He sighed and closed his eyes. Even with the medication he had been given, he did not feel drowsy. He reached up and gingerly felt the bandage covering the stitches on his head. His entire scalp was still numb from the novocaine. He could feel the dried blood and dirt caked in his hair.

This time was way too close he thought to himself. If I were a cat, my nine lives would be used up. My luck cannot hold out. Next time, it will be all over. With these thoughts crawling through his mind he drifted off to sleep.



####



By Wednesday, Johnny had lost patience with being cooped up in his apartment, doing nothing but watching TV and listening to albums. His apartment was littered with pizza boxes and empty Chinese take-out containers. He had been so sore from his fall, that he hadn't been able to perform the most basic housekeeping chores. It was a painful struggle to shower and dress on Thursday morning, but he couldn't bear the thought of another day at home. He managed to pull himself together in less than half an hour, and before he left his apartment, he grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge and swallowed a handful of aspirin. When he pulled into the station, it was still an hour before his shift was to begin. He walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, and greet the guys from C-shift.

"Morning, gentlemen!" Johnny said energetically.

Dwyer was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper and drinking from a coffee cup.

"Hey, John! How ya feelin? We were all real worried when we heard what happened!"

Johnny reached up and touched the bandage covering the stitches on his forehead. The knot on the back of his head had diminished considerably.

"I'm doin' great. Just great." Johnny said, flashing his lopsided grin. "I'll tell ya though, man, am I glad to be back at work. I'm not cut out for hangin' around the house all day!"

Johnny walked over to the counter and after pouring what was left of the coffee into his cup, he started a new pot.

"Well, I'm sure Roy'll be real happy you're back." Dwyer replied. "He had to put up with Brice for two days. Man, I think Roy's gonna quit the department if he gets stuck with that guy one more time!"

Johnny chuckled and took a swig of his coffee. "Hey, that's no problem, cause I don't intend on missin' any more shifts! Hey, Dwyer - pass the sports section over here if you're done with it."

Dwyer leaned over and handed Johnny the newspaper.

Johnny sat back in his chair and put his feet up just as the claxon sounded and C-shift ran out to the apparatus bay. He sipped his coffee and set the newspaper in his lap. As he looked at the front page of each section, he noticed something unusual. There seemed to be a sort of halo around the pictures and the print on the paper. He blinked and looked down again. It was still there. He rubbed his eyes and stood up to refill his coffee, slightly disturbed by what had just occurred. He set the paper to the side of the table and glanced over at Henry, who was reclined on the sofa with all four feet in the air.

"One thing about you, Henry," Johnny announced, "You certainly aren't modest."

Fifteen minutes later, Roy walked into the kitchen to find Johnny sitting at the table, staring into space.

"Hey, Johnny. Welcome back. How ya feelin'?"

Johnny swallowed hard and smiled.

"Great, great!

"I sure am glad you're back today! Another day with Brice and… man, I just dunno. He drove me crazy."

Roy walked to the counter and poured a cup of the freshly-brewed coffee.

"Refill?" he asked Johnny.

"Sure, yeah. Thanks." Johnny held out his cup.

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough to be back today? Two days isn't much time to recover from a concussion." Roy said

"Hell yes! I'm fine!"

Johnny and Roy were sitting at the table drinking coffee and talking about Roy's runs with Brice when the rest of the crew arrived.

"Hey Gage, welcome back, man." Chet whacked Johnny on the back.

Johnny winced, but replied "Thanks. Did ya miss me Chester?"

"Naw. Hardly noticed you were gone. Except it was a lot quieter around here now that I think about it." Chet replied.

"Give it a rest, Kelly." Cap asked as he sat down at the table. "How're you feelin, Pal?"

"Really good, Cap. The stitches come out on Friday." Johnny said touching his head again.

The crew from C-shift returned from their run, and after greeting A-shift, left the station for their respective homes and families.

Johnny glanced at the newspaper which Captain Stanley was now reading. He thought again about the incident with his eyes earlier, and then forced the thoughts out of his mind. His eyes were tired, that was it. He'd been watching too much TV while he had been home the past two days.

The claxon sounded.

"Station 51. Child stuck in trunk of car. 2004 Longmeadow Drive. Two Zero Zero Four Longmeadow Drive. Time out, 09:26."

"KMG-365" Captain Stanley responded to the dispatcher, wrote down the address, which he handed to Roy.

When they arrived at the scene, they found a blue sedan parked in the driveway of a large, ranch-style house, A woman and three small children surrounded the car.

"Please! My son is in the trunk! Can you get him out?" she yelled desperately.

"Yes, ma'am." Roy replied. "Where are the keys to the car?"

"They're in the trunk! He took them in there with him, and now he can't get out!" She began to sob hysterically.

"Ma'am, you have to calm down!" Johnny took hold of the woman's arms and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"You have to calm down and talk to me if we're gonna get your son out of there!"

Roy had begun trying to pry the trunk open.

"Now, ma'am, you don't have a spare key for this trunk anywhere?" Johnny inquired

"No, no" she said between stifled sobs, "My husband has a spare set, but he's away on a business trip."

Captain Stanley radioed for an ambulance to respond to their location.

Roy walked over to Johnny and the boy's mother.

"What is your son's name, ma'am?" Roy asked.

"Jeffrey" she replied.

"How old is he? How long has he been in there?"

"He's eight. I dunno -- the kids were playing outside after breakfast, and about twenty minutes ago, Laura came inside and told me that Jeffery was in the trunk! I thought she was kidding around, but I came outside and heard him in the trunk. I called you right away. So, I guess it's been over an hour now. Is he gonna die?"

Johnny reached over to the woman to lead her away from the trunk.

"No ma'am, not if we can help it. Now, when was the last time you heard Jeffrey say something?" Johnny asked the woman.

"Um, he was talking just before you got here. He was complaining about being hot. I told him the fire department was coming to get him out! I told him to hang on! Is he dead?" She was becoming hysterical.

Cap Stanley ordered Chet and Marco to bring the K-12 over.

Johnny led the woman to the front porch where she could sit down.

"Ma'am, you have to try and get hold of yourself. Take a deep breath. We're doing everything we can to get your son out of there. Now breathe deeply. That's it."

As Johnny looked down at the woman sitting on the step, suddenly his vision seemed to get narrow. He felt for a moment as if he were looking down a long tunnel. A tunnel surrounded by stars and flashing lights. The screaming noises of the K-12 became muffled. He reached out instinctively for the post to steady his balance. The woman sat on the step, her hands over her face; sobbing. The other children tried to offer comfort to the woman.

"Ma'am, please sit here, out of the way while they work. I'll be back in a second." Johnny said.

"Alright. But please… please don't let my son die."

Johnny stepped away from the porch without replying. He rubbed his eyes forcefully, almost as if willing his sight to become clear again. He stepped over to the side of the car where Roy was standing; watching Chet and Marco trying to extricate the boy from the trunk.

"They've almost got him. I've got Rampart standing by." Roy turned to look at Johnny. "He hasn't made a sound."

Johnny's head was spinning, but he tried to focus on the boy in the trunk. He had to do his job. "I know. Let's just hope we've gotten to him in time." Johnny said, almost to himself.

Before Johnny had finished the sentence, the trunk popped open. Roy rushed forward to remove the boy from the trunk of the car. After scooping him up, he quickly moved to the lawn beside the driveway and lowered the boy to the grass.

The boy's mother attempted to run to her son's side, but was stopped by Cap Stanley.

"Is he alive? Is he alive?" She repeated, between sobs.

Neither Johnny nor Roy took the time to answer her.

As Johnny checked for pulses, Roy picked up the biophone and re-established a connection with Rampart.

"Roy, I've got a weak carotid pulse."

Johnny reached over and put the oxygen mask over the boy's face and mouth.

Roy began to relay information to Dr. Brackett.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have an eight-year-old male, he's been trapped in the trunk of a car for approximately an hour. He is unconscious, but has a weak carotid pulse."

As Johnny continued assessing Jeffrey, the ambulance pulled up.

"Carotid pulse is fifteen and thready. Respirations are forty-five. Skin is cool and clammy. No peripheral pulses."

Roy repeated the vitals over the biophone.

Dr. Brackett ordered an IV be started on the boy. Johnny reached over for the IV kit. He tied a tourniquet around the upper arm and began to search for a vein. He had the needle poised to insert in a vein. He looked down and could not distinguish anything. Johnny's entire field of vision was gone. Dammit! What the hell is going on here? He felt for a moment as if he were under water. Roy turned to Johnny and saw him hesitate with the IV needle.

"Johnny! The IV!" Roy shouted.

"Uh, Roy, you better do it." Johnny reached over and handed Roy the syringe.

Roy said nothing. He quickly switched places with Johnny and started the IV. Johnny grabbed the biophone and repeated Dr. Brackett's orders to him. The blurriness disappeared as quickly as it had begun. The boy was put on a gurney and loaded into the ambulance.

"I'll go with him." Roy said.

Johnny paused for a moment as he watched Roy jump in the ambulance. Should he risk driving the squad with his vision so screwed up? He decided that since his eyes seemed to be fine now, the short drive to Rampart would be safe enough. If he had another episode, he would pull the Squad over and contact Engine 51 by radio. He quickly scrambled behind the wheel of the squad. Lights and sirens blaring, he followed the ambulance to Rampart.

####



Johnny was packing a small box with supplies for the squad when Roy walked up.

"I'm just about ready. Uh, Roy, could you grab me some D-5W?"

Roy reached into the chrome cabinet and pulled out two IV bags. He handed them to Johnny, who put them in the box.

Roy walked around to the front of the counter and looked at Johnny.

"Johnny." Roy said. Johnny was counting the items he had put in the box, and noting the counts on the supply form.

"Yeah?" Johnny said between counts and without looking up.

"What happened back there - with the IV?"

Johnny stopped counting. He leaned on the counter with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I… just have a headache. I'll take some aspirin back at the station."

"Are you sure that's all it is? I've never seen you like that before. I think you should see Doc Brackett. You know, have him take another look at your head."

"Roy, man, I'm fine! I told you!" Johnny put the box under his arm, grabbed the handy talkie and turned to leave. "Let's go."

As they were walking down the hall toward the ambulance bay, the alarm went off on the handy talkie.

"Squad 51," the radio blared, "possible heart attack. 4221 Carson Circle. Four, two two one Carson Circle. Time out, ten-forty-two."

"Squad 51 responding." Johnny replied back to the radio. He opened the Squad's compartment doors and put the box of supplies on one of the shelves. He slammed the doors and jumped into the passenger seat just as Roy was starting the engine. As they pulled out of Rampart, Roy switched on the lights and sirens and turned to face Johnny.

"Johnny - if your head isn't better after this run, I want you to take the rest of the day off and go have Brackett take a look at you. I'm concerned about your well-being, but I'm also worried about your ability to treat patients. What happened today with that boy's IV cannot happen again."

Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the Squad tore down the street.

"I'm okay, Roy. Really, I am. I promise you, it won't happen again."

The squad pulled up in front of a small two-story house with a well-kept garden, and nicely-manicured lawn. The front door was open, and as the Roy switched the sirens off and turned off the engine, a woman appeared from the house.

"Please hurry," the woman shouted, motioning to Johnny and Roy as they gathered their equipment from the compartments on the squad.

"My husband is having chest pain." The woman continued as she led them up the front walk to the door.

"How old is he?" Roy inquired of the woman.

"He'll be seventy next week."

Johnny and Roy entered the home and immediately crossed the living room toward the man lying on the sofa. Roy set the biophone on the floor and opened it up to establish contact with Rampart.

"Sir, my name is John Gage, this is my partner, Roy DeSoto. We're paramedics with the Los Angeles County Fire Department," Johnny began to unbutton the man's shirt.

"I'm just going to listen to your chest, okay?" Johnny said as he removed his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from the box.

"What's your name?" Johnny asked.

"Bill. Bill Skinner." The man responded, wincing in pain.

Roy spoke into the handset of the biophone.

"Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-one, how do you read?"

"Loud and clear Fifty-one. Go ahead." Johnny heard Dr. Brackett reply from the base station.

"When did the pain start?" Johnny asked as he wrapped the cuff around the man's arm.

"About forty-five minutes ago. I thought it was just heartburn, so I took some antacid tablets. They didn't help - the pain just got worse."

"Is it a heart attack?" the man's wife was becoming more agitated.

"We don't know that yet, ma'am. Just sit down and try and relax. We're going to do everything we can for your husband. Sir, are you taking any medications other than the antacids you took a while ago?"

The man grimaced. "No, nothing." The man lost consciousness

"Roy, BP is one-seventy over one-hundred, pulse is ninety and respirations are thirty." Johnny removed his stethoscope and began to hook the patient to the datascope.

"Rampart, we have a seventy-year-old male, suffering from chest pain. He has just lost consciousness. Vitals are: BP one-seventy over one-hundred, pulse is ninety and respirations are thirty. The patient is markedly diaphoretic. We are preparing to transmit EKG."

"Ten-four, Fifty-one. Standing by." Replied Dr. Brackett.

Johnny started the EKG.

"Fifty-one, patient is in V-Tach. Start IV with D-5W and administer one point five milligrams Lidocaine IV push. Put patient on six liters of oxygen, and transport as soon as possible."

"Ten-four, Rampart. IV D-5W, one point five milligrams Lidocaine IV push, six liters of O2. Transporting immediately."

Johnny moved the green oxygen tank closer to the sofa, hooked up the cannula, and started the flow of oxygen at six liters per minute. As he did this, the man's wife sat down on the sofa, and lit a cigarette she had pulled from a pack in the pocket of her apron. Her hands were trembling.

"Ma'am," Johnny chastised the woman. "You're going to have to put that out! We're using oxygen here!" The woman, her cheeks wet with tears, stubbed out the cigarette in a large leaf-shaped ashtray in the center of the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, " She sighed.

Roy completed the IV's just as the ambulance pulled into the driveway. The man was placed on the gurney and wheeled out the door to the ambulance. His wife stayed close behind.

"Ma'am," Johnny touched her on the shoulder as her husband was being loaded into the rig, "We're taking your husband to Rampart Emergency. You can ride in the ambulance if you'd like, but you'll have to ride in the front seat."

"No, that's alright. I'll drive our car to the hospital." She looked up at Johnny. Her eyes were pleading with him to save her husband's life. "Tell me the truth, is he going to be okay?"

"Ma'am, we're doing everything we can. But, we need to go, now." Johnny replied.

The woman turned and ran into the house presumably to find her car keys.

"Johnny, you go with him in the ambulance. I'll drive the squad in." Roy said.

Johnny climbed up in the rig as Roy slammed the back doors. Roy slapped the back of the ambulance and the driver pulled out of the driveway. Johnny felt that annoying tightening in his throat - he knew why Roy wanted to drive the squad. He didn't want Johnny driving. He tried to put the thought in the back of his mind, and prepared to acquire a second set of vital signs on his patient. Sitting on the bench, he reached over for the man's left wrist, and looked down at his watch. The familiar face of the watch was a white blur. He couldn't make out any numbers, much less even distinguish the movement of the second-hand. He felt a cold sweat envelop his body.

This can't be happening. Not now! He thought. He dropped the man's wrist, and rubbed his eyes. He stood up to reach across the patient to retrieve the blood pressure cuff, sitting on the shelf behind the datascope. As he reached for the cuff, his field of vision narrowed into blackness.

####



A familiar fragrance woke Johnny. He struggled to orient himself, but he couldn't figure out where he was, and he couldn't remember anything that had happened. The face he saw was Dana's. Her perfume helped him recall her identity. He remembered smelling it on his clothes the day after their first date.

"Hi Johnny, " she moved toward him and smiled when she heard him stir, and saw him open his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"What am I doing here?" Johnny struggled to recall the events preceding this moment, but couldn't remember a thing.

"You're going to be fine. I'm going to go get Doctor Early. He'll explain everything."

Johnny reached over and clasped Dana's wrist - preventing her from moving toward the door.

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Johnny, just relax. I'll be right back with Doctor Early. She pried her wrist from his grasp and left the room.

Johnny lay back against the pillow, and felt a sting. He reached up to his head only to discover that his entire head was bandaged. He had an IV in his left arm, and an oxygen cannula in his nose.

Dr. Early entered the room with Dana close behind. They both walked to his bedside.

"Johnny, it's nice to see you awake." He pulled a penlight from his pocket and examined Johnny's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Doc, tell me what's going on!" Johnny tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea rushed through him.

"Johnny, you had a seizure. When you were brought in, you were in a coma. You had a subdural hematoma, a result of your fall last week. We operated, and you're going to be fine."

Johnny struggled to comprehend what he was being told.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"You've been through a lot. A clot on your brain ruptured, causing the seizure and the coma." Dr. Early could see the panic forming on Johnny's face.

"When did this happen? What day is it? How long have I been here?"

"We operated on Thursday. Today is Saturday. Johnny, look - you're going to be fine. I know it's hard, because you're experiencing some short-term memory loss. It will all come back with time, okay? I promise. You'll be as good as new. We're just very lucky that we caught it before something more serious happened. You should have had a CT scan when you were brought in last week, but there were no indications for it. Now, I want you to get some rest. I'll go tell Dixie to call the station and let them all know you're alright. I know Roy will want to see you."

Johnny couldn't focus his attention on what Dr. Early was saying. As the doctor was leaving the room, Johnny stopped him.

"Doc?"

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"Thanks." Johnny smiled weakly.

"No problem. Now get some rest, I'll be back in a little while."

"Are you comfortable?"

Johnny had forgotten that Dana was in the room.

"I'm fine."

She approached Johnny's IV tubing and inserted a syringe of medication into the port.

"This is just morphine. It will help with the pain, so you can get some rest. Just push that button if you need anything, okay?" Dana moved toward the door.

Johnny didn't respond. Dana glanced back at him once and closed the door behind her.

His eyes closed, Johnny tried to force his mind to recall what had happened. He remembered being hurt in the warehouse fire. He remembered the days he spent at home following the injuries. He remembered driving to the station on his first day back to work.

He could remember nothing after that.



####



Johnny awoke the next morning when the sun streamed through the break between the beige curtains of his hospital room at Rampart. He was grateful for the sun. The dream he was having was disjointed and disturbing. He was breathing fast and hard as he reached up and felt the sweat streaming down the back of his neck. He knew that the narcotics he was receiving could account for the nightmares, but logic told him it was much more than that. Traumatic events could cause sleep disturbances as well. He lay back on his pillow, and turned his head away from the bright ray of sunlight.

"Good morning! You're awake early, Johnny, " Dana said as she entered his room carrying a small tray with the equipment used to draw blood.

"Mmmhhm." Johnny replied without turning his head toward her.

Dana sensed Johnny's mood. "I just need to take your vitals and draw some blood, then I'll leave you alone, okay? My shift is over in half an hour, but I'll be back in to see you tonight."

"Whatever," Johnny said, still not turning to face her.

She quickly finished her tasks, and left the room.

Johnny awoke when he heard Roy opening the door to his room. It seemed to him that he must have dozed for quite a while, because the sun had changed position.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Roy was on duty, wearing his uniform and carrying a small white box of IV supplies under his left arm.

"Mmm…. I dunno. It doesn't matter. What time is it?"

Roy set the box down on the other bed and looked at his wristwatch. "Ten-fifteen,"

Johnny looked up at Roy, and saw a face he had never seen before. Roy's face was pale, and his eyes were reddening. He was fighting back tears. Johnny decided to lighten up the mood a bit.

"Hey! Did I sleep through breakfast? I was really looking forward to some gruel and instant coffee! It's almost lunch time!"

Roy chuckled and smiled stiffly. "Naw, I think we can arrange for some gruel. I'll talk to Dix for ya."

"Thanks, man."

Roy walked across the room and dragged a chair over to John's bedside.

"I have to get going in a minute, I'm on duty. Working with Dwyer today," Roy said, sitting down at Johnny's bedside.

"I guess even Dwyer is better than Brice," Johnny said.

"Yeah, I guess so. Listen, how are you doing? Do you need anything?"

"Naw. I'm fine. I just can't believe all this," Johnny said, reaching up and touching his bandaged head again, " I don't remember what happened."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Roy asked.

"I remember the fire, I remember being in the hospital, and I remember going back to work, " Johnny tried desperately to recall anything after that.

"That's it. Nothing else."

He could see the anguish on Roy's face.

Johnny sat up in his bed and leaned over to face Roy.

"Roy, tell me what happened. Please."

"Johnny, I told you - I have to go - Dwyer's waiting for me downstairs." Roy shifted in his chair.

"Roy…" Johnny began.

"Look, I get off at six o'clock. I'll come back then, okay?"

Johnny laid back against his pillow and turned away.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Roy hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should leave his friend this way. He wasn't prepared to tell John all the details of their last run together. He knew that explaining to Johnny the details of what had happened would require more time than Roy had right now. It would be better to wait.

"I'll see ya later," Roy said and closed the door behind him.

"Yeah," Johnny said to no one in particular.

A nurse came in with a tray containing Johnny's breakfast. She set the tray in front of him and left without the usual niceties. She could sense that his state of mind was not good. After she left, Johnny stared blankly at the tray of food. The smell of the tepid eggs and greasy bacon mixed with the smell of the stale, overbrewed coffee made his stomach turn. He couldn't seem to find the energy to move the tray table away from his bed.

This isn't fair. I have a right to know what happened to me! He felt his face get hot. His heart was beating too fast, and he wanted to cry. He picked up his breakfast tray and hurled it toward the wall at the foot of his bed.

Hearing the racket, an orderly hurried into Johnny's room, followed closely by Dixie. Johnny was lying on his side, away from the door, so he did not see either of them. Dixie approached Johnny's bed, and the orderly left to get a mop and bucket.

"Johnny?" Dixie sat down on the side of Johnny's bed. She put her hands on his shoulders and gently guided so that he was once again on his back. He turned his head and looked at her. He felt comforted as soon as he saw her face.

"How ya doin', kiddo?" She smiled warmly and touched his cheek.

"Dixie," Johnny said, almost in a whisper, "No one will tell me what happened. I need to know." His eyes pleaded with her.

Dixie reached down and took his hand in hers.

"I'll tell you what happened, Johnny. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Going back to work last week after my accident."

"Last Thursday; your first day back at work; you and Roy went on a call -- a heart-attack case. Roy was driving the squad, and you were in the ambulance with the patient. You apparently had a seizure, and lost consciousness. The driver is unsure how long you were out before he became aware of the situation. He radioed to Roy, and they pulled over so Roy could board the ambulance. You and your patient arrived at Rampart about 4 minutes later."

Johnny looked hard into Dixie's eyes. He knew there was something she wasn't telling him.

"What happened to the patient?" Johnny asked. He already knew the answer.

Dixie tightened her fingers around Johnny's hand. Her eyes shifted away from Johnny's, and she took a deep breath.

"He didn't make it, Johnny."

Johnny felt his chest tighten and a lump form in his throat. He pulled his hand away from Dixie's and turned his eyes to the mess on the wall. The coffee was still dripping down the wall and he almost smiled when he saw scrambled eggs clinging to the screen of the ceiling-mounted television set.

"Johnny?" Dixie put her hand on his jaw and moved his head to face her.

"This was not your fault! Mr. Skinner probably would have died anyway. He had a massive M.I. He was in very bad shape!"

"How do you know that, Dix? How do you know he would have died anyway? No one knows how long I was out? It could have been minutes! Minutes that could have saved that man's life!" Johnny said "He needed me! He was counting on me! I let him down!"

The door opened, and the orderly stepped in carrying a mop and a bucket.

"Can you come back a little later?" Dixie asked.

The orderly left without a word.

"I know because I talked to Kel and Joe about it. They're fairly certain your patient was in cardiac arrest when you lost consciousness, and that he couldn't have survived."

"In cardiac arrest? I could have defibrillated him! You can't tell me that man's death isn't my fault! It is!"

Dixie could see that this discussion was upsetting Johnny to a point that could be dangerous to his health.

"Johnny," Dixie said softly, "You can't get this worked up. You've just had major surgery. You need to rest now as much as possible."

"I can't, Dix! What about that man's family? Do they know what happened? Do they know that I killed him?"

"I don't know anything about the man's family, Johnny. I'll talk to Joe in a little while and see what I can find out. If I do that, will you promise me that you'll at least try and get some rest?"

Johnny looked up at Dixie blankly. He could see the concern in her eyes. Concern for him. He knew she really did care.

"Okay. I'll try, Dix."

"Good. I'll be back in a little while."

####



True to his word, at just after six-thirty that evening, Roy entered Johnny's room. He was wearing street clothes and carrying a fast food bag and a plastic cup.

"Hi Johnny," Roy said as he wheeled Johnny's tray table over the bed.

"I figured you had had enough gruel for one day, so I picked you up a burger and a milkshake. Don't tell Dixie, okay?"

Johnny moved his tray table closer and opened the bag. The smell of the cheeseburger made his stomach rumble, and he realized that he had not eaten since the day before. A nurse had come by around one o'clock with lunch, but he had asked her to take it away. He unwrapped the burger and dumped the fries out on the wrapper.

"Thanks, Roy. I don't think I could handle the Rampart Blue Plate Special tonight," he said as he consumed almost half of the burger in one bite.

Roy sat down in the chair which had not been moved since Dixie left the room earlier in the day. The two friends sat in silence. A silence that was interrupted only by the sounds of Johnny finishing his cheeseburger and slurping his milkshake through the straw.

When Johnny was finished eating, he wadded up the wrapper and the bag, and tossed them across the room, directly into the wastebasket.

"Four points," Johnny managed a half-smile.

"Yeah." Roy took a deep breath and leaned forward in the chair.

"Look. Dixie told me that she talked to you about what happened -- about Mr. Skinner. Johnny, you need to know that it wasn't your fault. He was in really bad shape. He had lost consciousness just before we loaded him in the ambulance."

"Roy, you and I both know that I might have been able to save him," Johnny sighed.

"It doesn't matter now anyway. It's over."

Roy had tears in his eyes. "Johnny, this whole thing is my fault, not yours. I knew there was something wrong, and yet I let you go with the patient in the ambulance. I shouldn't have. I don't know what I was thinking," he covered his face with his hands and tried to stifle his sobs.

Johnny sat up and leaned forward in his bed. He put his arms around the shoulders of his partner and best friend. Roy reached up and returned the embrace, then abruptly pulled his arms back. He wiped his face with his shirt sleeve and sniffed.

"Roy, it's not your fault. You couldn't have predicted what was going to happen. Anyway, like I said, it doesn't matter much who's at fault. What happened happened, there's no undoing it."

The door opened and Dr. Early entered Johnny's room.

"Hi Johnny, Roy," Joe said solemnly, as he walked around Johnny's bed to the opposite side.

"Hi Doc," Johnny and Roy said almost simultaneously.

"How ya feeling, Johnny?" Joe asked.

"I've been better," Johnny responded.

"I know, Johnny. Are you in pain?" Dr. Early reached over Johnny's head and gently examined the bandages.

"It's not bad. When can I go home?"

Dr. Early pulled a penlight out of his coat pocket and examined Johnny's pupils.

"Well, barring any complications, I'd say you could probably go home on Tuesday. That's if you get plenty of rest between now and then."

A nurse entered Johnny's room carrying a tray, which she set down on the tray-table in front of Johnny. Johnny looked down at the food and then smiled at Roy. Roy smiled back and moved the tray table into the corner of the room.

"Got a problem with our cuisine, Johnny?" Dr. Early asked.

"Naw, I'm just saving it for later, Doc," Johnny answered, as the characteristic crooked grin appeared on his face for the first time in a week.

"Dixie said you were asking about the heart patient who died."

"It's okay, Doc. Roy told me what happened." Johnny said.

"Johnny still thinks it's his fault, Doc."

"We have no evidence of that, Johnny."

"I know." Johnny leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Well, try and rest tonight, and I'll come by and see you tomorrow," Dr. Early said as he stepped toward the door.

"Thanks, Doc. I will. See ya later."

"I should go, too. Let you get some rest." Roy stood up.

Johnny suddenly felt as if there was something more to say to Roy, but he couldn't find the words.

"Roy?"

Roy stopped and turned to face Johnny. He disliked seeing his partner this way, helpless in a hospital bed, his head bandaged, hooked up to IVs……

"Hmm?"

Even from where Roy was standing, he could see the tear roll down Johnny's cheek. Johnny could say nothing.

"It's okay, Johnny. I'll see you tomorrow."

Johnny lay back against his pillow and tried to sleep.



####



Johnny jumped when he heard the knock at his door. He remained seated in the thickly cushioned chair for a moment as he caught his breath. His momentary start turned to disgust at the thought of having to exchange pleasantries with whomever stood on the other side of his door. For the five weeks since he had left the hospital, not a day had gone by that a friend, a neighbor, or a fellow firefighter hadn't stopped by. He knew why they came. Even without being at the station, he could hear the words. Words of concern. Concern for him.

Slowly, Johnny pulled himself out of the chair, and re-tied the belt to his robe as he walked to the door.

He opened the door to see Chet standing in the hallway holding a large covered pot. "Hey, John," Johnny hadn't opened the door all the way before Chet was pushing him aside and making his way to the apartment's small kitchen. Johnny followed him.

"I made some Irish Stew for the guys and I had some left over, " Chet said as he tried to find a spot on the avocado-green stove. He turned the burner to low heat.

"Thanks Chet,"

Chet looked at Johnny again, and his stomach sank. His hair was almost to his shoulders, and didn't appear to have been washed in weeks. He hadn't shaved in at least as long.

"Nice beard, man. When was the last time you got a hair-cut?"

"You mean getting half my head shaved for brain surgery doesn't count as a hair-cut?"

As he was talking, Johnny watched Chet's eyes move around the kitchen.

Three black garbage bags sat on the floor in the corner between the refrigerator and the window. It seemed that every pot and pan Johnny owned was on top of the stove, most crusted with remnants of what had been cooked within. Empty cans which had at one point contained various staples such as spaghetti, baked beans and tuna littered the countertops.

Chet wrinkled his nose and reached over the garbage bags to slide the window open. "John, how long's it been since you took out the garbage, man?"

Johnny felt his cheeks get hot. He couldn't decide if he was angry at Chet for sticking his rather prominent nose where it didn't belong, or humiliated that his friend was bearing witness to what was left of his existence.

"Chet…" Johnny's voice trailed off as he turned and headed back to the chair in which he'd basically lived for the past five weeks.

Chet followed and seated himself on Johnny's sofa. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and faced Johnny.

"John, you gotta snap out of this buddy," Chet said. Johnny wouldn't even turn his head to look at him. Three pizza boxes were strewn on the floor in front of, and underneath the coffee table.

"The Cap wants to know when you're coming back. We all miss you, man. Dr. Early said you're okay to work, so what's goin' on here?"

John finally turned to face Chet. "I'm not ready. Okay? I'm not ready! You got that?"

Chet rose from the sofa and stood for a moment, looking down at Johnny. He could think of nothing else to say. John seemed in far worse shape than he had prepared himself for.

"Don't forget about the stew --it's on the stove," Chet said, kicking two pizza boxes out of his way and moving toward the door.

####



"I'm tellin' you, Roy… I've never, ever seen Gage like this. He's losin' it, man! We gotta do something!"

The lunch dishes had all been pushed aside by the respective members of Station 51. No one could concentrate on eating after what Chet had described to them about his visit the day before.

Roy stared out the window. All eyes were on him. As Johnny's partner and best friend, everyone expected him to have an answer. He didn't. He had seen for himself the state in which Johnny was existing. On one visit several weeks prior, hje had been told by Johnny himself not to return, after offering some unsolicted and unwelcome advice. There seemed to be no getting through to him. He appeared to have given up.

"I don't know what to do, Chet. He clearly doesn't want my help - he's told me so. It doesn't appear as if he wants any help!"

From directly across the table, Captain Stanely leaned forward on his elbows.

"What about if all of us went over there together? He at least needs to know that we care about him!"

"That just might work, Cap," said Mike, "I say let's do it.

"I agree. It's worth a try." Roy stood up and cleared away his lunch dishes.

####



Two days later, on their day off, Roy, Chet, Mike, Captain Stanley and Marco all met in front of Johnny's apartment. They had not planned what they would say to him, and they had no idea what his reaction would be to their surprise appearance. Solemnly, all five walked up the sidewalk to the front door and entered the building. When they got to Johnny's apartment door, Roy took a deep breath and knocked.



Dammit, what now? Johnny thought as he climbed out of bed. He had been in a deep sleep, and did not welcome the interruption. On the way to the front door, he stopped in the bathroom to check the mirror, but the entire apartment was so dark, he couldn't see anything. He rarely turned lights on anymore.

He unlocked the door and turned the knob.

Johnny's first instinct upon seeing his five co-worked in the hallway was to slam the door in their faces. He knew that would not help, and in fact - would probably make things worse. Instead, he greeted them as if seeing them all there was a normal occurrence.

"Hey guys. What's up?" He remained standing in the doorway, and tried to avoid opening the door further than he had to. Although he didn't mind it, he knew what his apartment looked like to others. Dark - all the curtains had been pulled, strewn with garbage, and worst of all - reeking.

"John, we'd like to come in." Roy said, "Is that okay?"

"Um, now's not really a good time." John began to slowly close the door.

Chet stepped forward and put his foot between the door and the jamb to prevent it from closing. "John, we just wanna talk to you, man."

Johnny opened the door to allow his friend to enter, and, stepping over piles of newspapers, made his way to his favorite chair into which he sank and put his head in his hands.

His friends filed into the living room, seating themselves on the sofa and two available chairs. Mike turned on two lamps

Johnny wouldn't look at any of them. He squinted at the television set until his eyes adjusted to the light. In the blank television screen, he could see the reflection of the entire room; he could see the concern in their faces.

Roy began to speak.

"Johnny, we all know what a rough time you've been having. What happened to Mr. Skinner clearly wasn't your fault, but that doesn't really matter anymore. You feel responsible for his death. You can't go on like this. You haven't showered or shaved in weeks. You've lost a lot of weight - you look terrible!"

"This has nothing to do with Skinner, man!" Johnny stood up and began to yell, "I just had surgery! I'm recovering!"

"Johnny, Dr. Brackett cleared you to return to work three weeks ago. You're just fine, physically." Roy said.

"What does he know?! He's not me! What happens if I go back to work, and someone else dies because of me! Then what?" Tears were rolling down Johnny's face and into his beard. He was furious at himself for letting his friends witness this despair.

There was silence in the room. Johnny had accidentally admitted that his depression stemmed from his feeling of responsibilty for the death of Mr. Skinner, and for fear that it could happen again.

"Johnny, you wanna know something?" Roy asked, "I feel that I was far more responsible for Skinner's death than anyone! I knew you weren't well, and yet I let you go on the call that day. I was so wrong!"

Captain Stanley stood up to face Johnny. "John, you need to come back to work. You're just letting your life slip away here - day by day, you're sinking deeper and deeper. I have arranged for you to see someone through the Department. He's a counselor. He helps firefighters and paramedics deal with stuff like this. It's his job."

"John, please come back, " Marco said from the sofa, "We really need you."

Johnny sniffed and reached for a dirty napkin off the floor with which to wipe his nose.

"Johnny, I promise you, I won't let you enter a situation like that again." Roy said, "I'm your partner and you're my best friend. We need to look out for one another. I promise to do a better job at that."

Johnny looked around the room at his friends. He was amazed that any of them could possibly still care about him. Especially after the way he had treated them over the past several weeks.

In his entire life, no one had cared for him the way these five men did. As he looked at Roy, he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

Johnny reached over and handed Roy the dirty napkin.

"Here, man, " Johnny grinned at his best friend, "Wipe your nose."



####