Chapter 13

 

     The men of Station 51 ran to the apparatus bay from their respective endeavors when the klaxons sounded that afternoon shortly after lunch.

 

     "Station 51, Truck 127, Truck 44, assist Squad 110 at the water tower on Locus Street.  Multiple injuries at this location including a Code I.  Wear full protective gear.  Approach from the east off Wilshire Boulevard and travel one half mile.  East off Wilshire Boulevard and one half mile on Locus Street.  Time out; 13:22."

 

     Like Johnny, Roy, of course, knew exactly where the water tower was located.  He opened a side compartment on the squad and retrieved his turnout gear.  He pulled his bunker pants on, then slipped into his coat.  For the time being, he shoved his gloves in one of the coat's deep side pockets.  Neil copied Roy's movements on the other side of the squad.  He climbed in the vehicle as Roy was starting the engine.

 

     "Wonder what's going on?"  Neil said as he grabbed his helmet from the hook behind his head. "Why would they be calling out a foam truck, plus a snorkel, on a run that only involved a squad?  And full turnout gear?"  Neil plucked at the sleeve of his coat.  "What's up with that?"

 

     For lack of anything better to say, Roy answered the man with an honest, "I don't know."

 

     "I hate Code I's," Neil commented without giving conscious thought to the fact that John Gage was working out of 110's today.  "It's always hell until you get there and see who was hurt and how serious it is."

 

     Roy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.  Despite his anger at Johnny, he could barely find the voice to say, "Yeah, it's always hell."

 

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     It wasn't until the men on the ground heard Todd's terror-filled shriek that they looked up. Matt Moran had just been subdued by the combined forces of Vince Howard and Bob Lawrence.  Vince cuffed the boy and hauled him to his feet. He led the struggling teenager toward the paramedic squad's running board.  Shawn wanted Matt to sit down so he could get the boy’s vitals before contacting Rampart.

 

     Bob's, "I'm going back up to give Johnny a hand," was drowned out by Todd's cry.  At first the three men weren't certain what was going on, as they watched Johnny do a macabre dance on the platform with Todd's body tucked beneath him.  But then Bob saw the swarming insects.

 

     "Oh, shit!  Shit!"  He raced for the squad while waving a hand at Vince's patrol car.  "Get that kid and yourself in the car!  Close the doors and windows!  Shawn, go with him and treat the boy!"

 

     "What the--" Vince stumbled backwards as Shawn shoved Matt at him.

 

     "Killer Bees!" Shawn shouted, while at the same time feeling like a fool for saying what sounded like a bad phrase from a bad late night horror flick.  "Africanized Honey Bees!"

 

     That's all the information Vince needed.  Like the fire department, the police department had been briefed about the bees.  In addition to that, Vince was aware of the media coverage given the insects in recent weeks by the Department of Agriculture.

 

     In reality, none of the men knew for certain if it was a hive of Africanized Honey Bees that had been disturbed, or a yellow jacket's nest, or some other species of wasp or bee.  What the three men did know, was that the bees were furious, and there were a lot of them.

 

     Shawn scooped up the bio-phone and trauma box, then grabbed the drug box from its compartment.  He raced after Vince toward the patrol car.  Vince shoved Matt in the back of the car, Shawn diving in with the teen.  Vince slammed the rear door then climbed behind the wheel.  He picked up the radio mike.  He informed the police dispatcher of the situation and requested patrol cars be sent to block all traffic from entering the area around the tower.

 

     While Vince was doing that, Bob was making the call that ultimately summoned Station 51 to the scene.  He put the mike back in its stand, watching helplessly as Johnny continued to twirl his body in an attempt to get away from the bees, all the while doing his best to keep them off Todd.

 

     Bob strained to listen beyond the closed windows of the squad. 

 

     Come on, come on. 

 

Bob silently urged the sound of sirens to pierce the air.  He was afraid Johnny would fall off the tower if help didn't arrive soon.

 

     The swarm of insects surrounding Johnny and Todd blanketed them in a thick, dark cloud.  When Bob couldn't wait any longer, he jumped from the squad and opened the compartment where his turnout gear was stored.  He donned pants, jacket, and gloves, then grabbed his SCBA and a fire extinguisher.  He had no idea how effective the extinguisher would be, but he couldn't just stand here and watch the horror that was unfolding above him.  By the time Bob got his makeshift beekeeper's gear in place, he heard the sound he'd been praying for.  Sirens.  Sirens and air horns.

 

     Bob took off his SCBA for the time being, but left his turnouts on.  The squad and engine from Station 51 had barely come to complete stops before the black paramedic was running toward them.

 

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     Johnny had been so absorbed with keeping a grip on the struggling Todd, that he didn't notice the first sting other than to register it as a painful annoyance.  John assumed he'd rolled onto a nail, or some other sharp object, until the annoyance was swarming him.  The bees tangled in the paramedic's hair, and stung his face and ears.  He felt their stings on his neck and bare arms, while at the same time they got beneath his shirt to sting his back and chest.  Johnny surmised the bees were on Todd because the boy was shrieking and sobbing, but stings to both his eyelids left John unable to see due to the rapid swelling.  He covered Todd's body as best he could and tried to run away from the bees, only to realize he had nowhere to go.  They were one hundred feet in the air, and had to descend a narrow ladder to get down.  Alone, Johnny might make it.  But with Todd clinging to him while bees attacked them, John knew that feat was impossible.

 

     Johnny wanted to scream at the pain right along with Todd, but kept that urge in check.  Screaming would only attract more bees, and only cause Todd to panic further.  The pain finally caused Johnny to collapse onto the tower's platform with Todd beneath him.  As odd as it was considering all that was happening to him, the one thing Johnny found himself wondering was if he'd ever discover why Roy was so angry with him.

 

     Whatever it is I've done, Roy, I'm sorry.  I hope you know I'm sorry.

 

 

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     The doors slammed on Squad 51 as Roy and Neil exited the vehicle.  They ran to the engine, gathering with Bob Lawrence on the passenger side.  Roy stared up at the water tower while Bob explained the situation in twenty seconds of rapid-fire talk.  Hank Stanley's gaze never left the tower either, as he reached for the mike.  He wasn't sure what Bob had already relayed to dispatch, but didn't waste time asking.

 

     "L.A., we have bees at our location swarming a paramedic and a teenage boy.  It's possible these are Africanized Honey Bees.  We need an expert on bee removal and containment here as soon as possible.  The Department of Agriculture should also be notified."

 

     "10-4, 51."

 

     As Captain Stanley was clipping the mike back in its holder, Truck 127 and Truck 44 arrived.  Hank jumped from the engine.  The captain of Truck 127, and Truck 44's captain, jumped from their own vehicles.  The three men huddled together in the middle of the street.  They came to immediate agreement that John Gage and his young victim had to be rescued without delay.  The tricky part of that rescue would be keeping every other man present from being swarmed. 

 

     Hank returned to Engine 51.  By now his entire crew was standing together on the sidewalk.

 

     "Okay, men, here's the plan.  The snorkel truck will take Roy and Neil up to the tower.  We're gonna get John and the boy off there as fast as we can.  Bob, I want you to stay here and set up whatever equipment is needed to treat them.  If Shawn can help you, that'll be for the better."

    

     Bob nodded. He didn't wait to hear further instructions. He ran to Squad 51 and began pulling out the trauma box, drug box, bio-phone, oxygen, and blankets.  The area across the street from the water tower, and behind Engine 51, was an empty lot owned by the city.  Bob earmarked it for his makeshift triage center.

 

     Hank turned to the remainder of the men.

 

     "The snorkel will spray water on the bees in an effort to keep them away.  As you know, that won't kill them, but it should slow them down a bit.  Once Johnny and the boy are in the basket and on their way to the ground, the guys from 127's will start foaming any bees that follow.  It's an iffy plan, but considering how high up they are, this is the best we can do."

 

     "We'll make it work," Roy said with firm conviction.  "We don't have a choice."

 

     "You're right there, Roy.  Our choices are limited."

 

     As Truck 127 and Truck 44 moved into position, Hank ordered his men into full protective gear.  Roy and Neil took off their helmets and pulled down from the inside the Nomex hoods that would cover their ears, the lower part of their faces, and their necks.  They tucked the hoods into their coats, shrugged into their SCBA's, put their masks in place, then put their helmets back on.  Roy never realized how much they actually looked beekeepers in these get-ups until now.  The men dug into their coat pockets for their thick gloves. They put those on, making sure the ends of the gloves were secured beneath the cuffs of the coat sleeves.

 

     Their bulky turnout gear and SCBA's made running difficult.  Nonetheless, Roy and Neil headed for the snorkel truck as fast as their cumbersome clothing allowed.  Chet watched the men as he finished securing his own protective gear in place.  He looked up at the brown cloud centered in one spot on the tower and recalled his bad bee jokes from a few weeks earlier.  Suddenly, those jokes didn't seem so funny any longer.

 

 

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     Johnny kept his face buried in Todd's back, while at the same time clamping a hand over the boy's nose and mouth.  The literature Doctor Brackett had circulated at the paramedic meeting stated that Africanized Honey Bees were attracted to the carbon dioxide in human breath.  As Roy had told the members of the

A-shift, multiple stings in a person's mouth and throat would result in swelling, and from there, airway constriction, which could prove fatal in a matter of minutes. 

 

     Despite the hand covering the boy's face, Johnny could hear Todd's muffled screams.  The paramedic wanted to scream, too.  The pain from the stings of the aggressive bees was overwhelming.  Johnny's bare hands, arms, neck and the sides of his face were bearing the worst of the stings, though he could still feel bees stinging his back and chest.  He'd quit moving when he realized there was no way to escape.  Because his swollen eyelids blinded him, Johnny knew to move meant he risked tumbling through the open area by the ladder and plunging one hundred feet with Todd in his arms. 

 

     Just when Johnny's pain level had risen to such an excruciating height that it was almost worth the plunge to escape the swarming bees, a blast of cold water slammed John to his knees.   Johnny held onto Todd as he fell to the metal deck.  The icy water was an additional shock John's body didn't need, but he wasn't going to complain.  The water meant help had arrived.

 

     Gloved hands pulled Todd from Johnny's arms.  Another set of gloved hands grasped the paramedic around the waist and dragged him backwards.  Johnny felt his feet slide from the metal of the tower's deck to the metal of a basket. 

 

     Snorkel truck, his woozy brain identified.

 

     The same gloved hands that had rescued him from the tower now lowered the paramedic to the deck of the basket.  Johnny was positioned so his upper body was reclining against someone's chest.  He felt hands smacking at the bees still clinging to him, then heard Roy's muffled voice.

 

     "You're gonna be okay, Johnny!  You're gonna be fine!  We'll be on the ground in a few seconds!"

 

     The anger that had been present in Roy's voice the last time Johnny had encountered him, was gone now.  If you didn't know Roy as well as Johnny did, all you'd hear in his tone was calm professionalism.  But the two men had worked together far too long for Johnny not to detect the concern hidden beneath Roy's professional demeanor. 

 

     Johnny would have assured Roy that yes, he was going to be okay, if he'd been able.  But his lips were swollen four times their normal size due to multiple bee stings, and it was getting harder to breathe.  Johnny reached a swollen hand up to clutch a patch of Roy's coat sleeve between two fingers as he gasped for air.

 

     “You’re gonna be fine, John!” Roy assured again over the noise of the truck that was taking them down.  “You’ll be okay, partner.”

 

     Someone grasped Johnny's legs around the shins as the basket reached ground level.  He identified that person as Chet by the man's short, choppy strides, though he couldn't be certain he was correct until he heard Chet's voice.  Like Roy's voice, Chet's was muffled.  Johnny pictured them in full turnouts, with their SCBA's on their backs and their masks in place over their faces.

 

     "They're set up behind the engine, Roy!"

 

     Johnny's body jostled between the two men as they traversed grass, then a curb, then the smooth pavement of the street, up another curb, and across grass again. 

 

     "Here!  Lay him here!" 

 

     Johnny's ability to mentally focus was growing dim.  Through what seemed like a hazy fog, he identified the voice that called instructions to Roy and Chet as Neil Kruetzer’s.  He could hear Shawn and Bob conferring nearby as they worked on Todd. 

 

Someone lifted Johnny’s head and slipped an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, while someone else wrapped a B/P cuff around his right arm.  The stings were agonizing to the paramedic now.  Johnny moaned between gasps for air and arched his back against the pain.  He shivered from shock, and the drenched clothes he was still in.  Several pairs of gloved hands swatted his body as his co-workers killed bees emerging from his shirt.  As bees continued to sting him beneath his clothing, Johnny wondered if this torture would ever end.

 

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     Roy recorded his partner's blood pressure, pulse, and respiration rates.  He looked up at the men assisting him.  Though everyone was still in turnouts, helmets and SCBA's had been shed.

 

     "Cap, we need to get Johnny's clothes off him.  Chet, get some towels from the squad!"

 

     Hank and Marco began stripping Johnny of his uniform, as Roy relayed the injured man's vitals to Kelly Brackett.  Bob had contacted Rampart while Johnny and Todd were being rescued in order to apprise the emergency room staff of the situation.

 

     "Rampart, B/P is 70 over 40.  Pulse is 130.  Respiration is 16 and labored.  We're removing Johnny's clothing now." 

 

     Roy reached up and took a towel Chet handed him.  As the last of Johnny's clothing was tossed aside, Roy began squishing bees against his partner's body.  It wasn't the best method, but it kept the bees from taking flight. Roy had seen Doctor Early employ it one time in the ER when wasps emerged from the clothing of a man who was suffering from massive yellow jacket stings.   Hank, Chet, and Marco began copying Roy's procedure, while Mike was on stand-by next to the engine in the event Trucks 127 and 44 needed assistance.

 

     "51, start an IV with Ringer's Lactate and give 50 milligrams of Benadryl IV.  Also, Epinepherine sub Q 0.3.  Monitor airway and vitals enroute.  51, what's your ETA?" 

 

     Roy turned as he heard another siren.  An ambulance pulled up to the curb.

 

     "Ambulance just arrived, Rampart.  ETA is approximately twelve minutes."

 

     "10-4, 51."

 

     Roy put the bio-phone's receiver in its cradle, then reached into the drug box.  He rubbed an alcohol wipe against Johnny's left bicep and administered the Epinephrine while Neil started the IV's.  Once the medications had been given, Roy grabbed a blanket pack, tore open the wrapping, and covered his partner.  Johnny's upper torso, neck, and face had taken the brunt of the stings.  He only had a few that Roy could see below his rib cage.  But above that. . .well, above it were more wounds than Roy could count.  Swollen red welts formed as Roy watched, and bees continued to crawl out from Johnny's hair. Chet was kneeling at the top of John's head, killing the bees as fast as he could spot them.

 

     The ambulance attendants arrived with two gurneys.  Neil and Roy lifted Johnny onto one, while Shawn and Bob lifted Todd to the other.  Vince would bring Matt to Rampart in the patrol car.  Shawn had relayed the sixteen-year-old’s vitals to Rampart while Johnny and Todd were being rescued.  Matt appeared to be in no danger, and had actually calmed down as he watched the rescue with rapt attention.   How much of it Matt's drug-altered mind understood, Vince wasn't sure, but if nothing else the teen seemed to realize his friend was in grave danger.  Without the reluctance that was normal for teenagers in the type of trouble Matt was, the boy provided Vince with Todd's name, and the name of the school they attended.  Vince quickly relayed that to dispatch. By the time Johnny and Todd had been rescued, the school's principal had reached Todd's father at work.  Mr. Fletcher had given permission for his son to receive any necessary treatment in the field, and was on his way to Rampart where he'd wait for the ambulance to arrive.

 

     Bob and Shawn counted just fourteen stings on Todd's body thanks to John Gage.  The boy was more terrified than he was hurt.  That he was high didn't help matters when it came to calming him down.  Because of the parental permission given, the paramedics were able to comply with Doctor Morton’s instructions to start an IV of Ringers on Todd.

 

     “Todd, you need to calm down,” Bob said as they strapped the crying boy to the gurney.  “You’re all right. Your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

 

     Those words only made Todd cry harder, but Bob continued to speak to him in a soft, reassuring tone. The paramedic knew Doctor Morton wouldn’t order a sedative for the boy since they didn’t know what drugs he had in his system.

 

     “Todd, it’s okay,” Bob assured again as he and Shawn loaded the teenager into the back of the ambulance. “You’re going to be fine.”  

 

     The men from the truck crews fought to keep the bees contained by the water tower.  Some bees escaped that containment, meaning the fire fighters, paramedics, and ambulance attendants working with Johnny and Todd suffered random stings.  But the bees were no longer swarming, leaving Roy to surmise the hive had been located and foamed. 

 

     Roy rode with Johnny in the ambulance, while Bob attended to Todd on the other side of the rescue vehicle.  They were cramped, but they made it work.  Shawn followed in Squad 110, Neil in Squad 51.

 

     Roy gave Doctor Brackett an updated set of vitals on Johnny, then pulled a flat plastic Rampart ID card from the drug box that was the size of a credit card.  Starting with Johnny's neck, Roy began working to scrape as many of the stingers out of his partner's skin as he could.  The sturdy edges of the ID card worked as though they were made for this purpose.  Roy knew that when the barbed stinger is planted in flesh the poison sac is ripped from the bee's body, disemboweling it.  The bee dies, but muscles attached to the sac continue to pump more venom into the victim.  And more venom meant increased danger to Johnny.

 

     Though Johnny's eyelids were grotesquely swollen now and rimmed bright red, Roy didn't touch the stingers there.  He decided it was best to let Brackett remove those.  As he worked, Roy spoke to his friend, offering what reassurances he could.

 

     "We'll be at Rampart in a few minutes, Johnny.  You're going to be fine.  I'm taking the stingers out now.  That'll help some."

 

     Johnny's swollen lips made it impossible to talk.  He groaned against the fire engulfing his body and fought to keep tears from leaking out beneath his lids, a fight he lost as the pain-inspired tears trickled down each side of his face.

 

     Roy wiped the tears away with a towel, then went back to work with the ID card.  There wasn't much else he could do but assure once again, "You're going to be fine, John.  I know it hurts like a son-of-a-gun right now, but you'll be okay."

 

     Roy barely caught the one word Johnny mumbled through his swollen lips, and that was further muffled by the oxygen mask.

 

     "Bee."

 

     It took Roy a moment to realize Johnny was offering up what humor he could muster.  He smiled, even though his partner couldn't see him.

 

     "Son-of-a-bee.  You're right.  I know it hurts like a son-of-a-bee."

 

     Like a lot of sons-of-a-bee, Roy, Johnny thought, and would have said if he was able.  He shook from bone-penetrating chills as awareness began to fade once again. Johnny didn't even realize he vomited into his oxygen mask, nor did he feel Roy and Bob flipping him on his side.  Whatever urgency took place in that ambulance from then until they arrived at Rampart, John Gage was oblivious to.  Later, Johnny would be grateful for that urgency on Roy and Bob’s part, because it saved his life when the massive amount of venom in his system caused him to go into respiratory arrest.

 

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     Roy was running behind Johnny's gurney down the ER corridor,  pumping air into his friend's lungs using the ambu-bag, when he realized the young victim who had been Bob's patient was Chris's friend, Todd Fletcher.  Based on what he'd overheard Bob relay to Mike Morton, Roy knew the boy was high on something and had suffered a few stings.  It was when Roy caught sight of Todd's father racing past him with a panicked expression, that the identity of the young teen Roy had paid scant attention to made itself known.

 

     Roy wasn't sure which emotion washed over him the strongest.  Anger at a kid whose foolish actions caused Johnny to be in such a serious condition.  Pity for the worried father who had been called to come to Rampart.  Or fear for himself and his own son.  Todd was one of Chris's closest friends.  As the old saying went, birds of a feather flock together.  If Todd was doing drugs, then it was quite likely Chris was as well, just like Doctor Brackett had reported to Roy earlier that day.  It could have been Chris skipping school that day right along with Todd.  It could have been Chris who was being rushed to a treatment room while Roy played out the very real role of panicked father.

 

     Right before Roy entered the treatment room Dixie was directing the gurney to, he heard Virgil Fletcher say to the nurse beside him, "But that can't be true.  My son doesn't do drugs.  We. . .we didn't see any warning signs."

 

     And neither did I, was Roy's heartbreaking thought, before his attention returned to the best friend who was struggling for life.

 

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     An hour and a half later, Roy backed the squad into Station 51. He and Neil had remained in the treatment room with Johnny for a substantial length of time, assisting Doctor Brackett in getting him stabilized, and assisting with the removal of the mass amount of stingers embedded beneath John’s flesh.   As Roy expected, the rest of the crew was waiting in the kitchen for news on Johnny. 

 

     "How's Johnny?"  Chet asked the paramedics before Hank had the opportunity.

 

     "It took a while,” Roy said, “but Doctor Brackett finally got him stabilized." 

 

The paramedic headed for the sink.  He turned the cold-water tap on, reached for a glass from the cabinet, and filled it.  He grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet above the sink and opened it.  He shook two white pills into his palm, tossed them in his mouth, then took a long swallow of water before continuing. 

 

"They started him on hydrocortisone, and will be moving him to ICU for the rest of the day and tonight if they haven't already."

 

     "What's the hydrocortisone do?"  Hank asked.

 

     "Combats the swelling and shock," Neil answered as he grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator, and then sat down next to Mike at the table.  "Johnny's not going to feel very good for the next twenty-four hours or so, but if all goes well and no complications arise, he'll likely be released in three or four days."

 

     Chet looked at Roy.  "What complications?" 

 

     "In some cases of massive bee stings, vital organs can start to shut down as a result of the venom.  It's unlikely Johnny will have any problems because of how quickly he received treatment, but that's the reason they'll keep him in ICU at least until tomorrow morning sometime."

 

     "Are his eyes okay?"  Marco asked Roy.  "I mean, there won't be any damage to his sight from the stings, will there?"

    

     "They don't know yet.  Brackett’s fairly positive the stings were limited to Johnny's lids, but until the swelling goes down a bit we won't know for sure."

 

     "He's gotta be hurting," Chet said.  "He musta been stung three hundred times."

 

     "Double that, Chet, and you'll be about right," Roy responded.  "And yeah, he was in a lot of pain when we left, but Doctor Brackett was feeling confident enough in Johnny's respiratory response to order pain meds, so by now he's probably sleeping.”

 

     "What about the bees?"  Neil asked of the men who had remained behind at the scene.  "Did they get them contained?"

 

     "A bee specialist from the Department of Agriculture was there when we left, along with other personnel to assist in various capacities," Hank answered.   "127’s and 44’s remained to help in whatever way they could, and Squad 36 was called out so paramedics were there in the event medical care was needed.  But, as far as I know, other than a few random stings here and there, everyone was fine when we left and they seemed to have it under control."

 

     "Did the guys from the Ag Department think they were Africianized Honey Bees?" Neil asked.

 

     "Yeah," Hank nodded.  "And they said John was lucky because it was a small hive."

 

     Roy arched an eyebrow as he thought of the hundreds of stings Johnny had endured. "What do they consider small?"

 

     "Probably about five thousand bees, meaning the hive was just getting under construction.  When completed, it could house as many at eighty thousand."

 

     "Man, I sure wouldn't want to meet up with eighty thousand of those little buggers," Chet said.  "Five thousand was enough."

 

     "I'm sure Johnny will agree with you there."  Roy took two more swallows of water before dumping the rest of it down the sink.  He washed his glass out and put it in the drainer.  He leaned against the counter, allowing his eyes to close while rubbing a hand across his forehead.

 

     "Still got that headache, huh, pal?"

 

     Roy shot his captain a half smile.  "Yeah.  Only now it's about ten times worse thanks to a couple of foolish kids, five thousand bees, and that accident prone partner of mine."

 

     "Master of Disaster."

 

     "Pardon me?"  Roy questioned Chet.

 

     "The Master of Disaster.  That's what I'm gonna call Gage from now on."

 

     "Chet--"

 

     "Come on, Cap.  You gotta admit it describes Gage to a T."

 

     "That may be so, but let's make sure John is healthy and back on his feet before you. . .or the Phantom, decide to torment him with that little phrase."

 

     "Sure, Cap.   Sure.  You know the Phantom never zings a guy when he's down.  Or maybe I should say, the Phantom never stings a guy when he's down."

 

     Hank pinned Chet with a dark glare.  "Maybe you shouldn't say anything, Kelly."

 

     Chet decided now was the time to escape to the dorm, where he wanted to use the telephone.  What he'd witnessed at that water tower was going to make for a great story to pass along to the guys at stations that hadn't been called to the scene.

 

     Five thousand bees?  Naw, ten thousand sounds better.  Or twenty.  Yeah, I fought off twenty thousand bees in order to save Johnny and that kid.

 

     As Chet made his way to the dorm while imagining ways to embellish the rescue, Captain Stanley headed for his office.  The remainder of the Station 51 crew sprawled around the TV in the dayroom.  Roy sunk into one end of the sofa, paying no attention to the afternoon game show Marco had selected.  His mind was on his oldest son.  He glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink.  The school day had drawn to a close twenty minutes earlier.  Was Chris at basketball practice like he was supposed to be?  Or, like Todd and that other boy whose name Roy had never learned, had Chris skipped school? 

 

     What else is going on with my son I'm not aware of?  Is he sitting on a water tower somewhere smoking pot, too?  Did he leave school today with Todd?  Is he somewhere getting into trouble, or somewhere hiding out in an attempt to avoid facing Joanne and me?

 

     Before Roy could draw any conclusions, the object of his thoughts entered Station 51 through the back door.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

     Chris had spent the day wondering where Todd was.  The boy never showed up in any class, leading Chris to conclude Todd had skipped school with Matt. If there was anything good about this day after Chris’s failure to get through to Todd, it was that Mrs. Banner was out sick. Mr. Rubach was substitute teaching in her honors English class, which meant English was fun for a change.

 

Ten minutes before the dismissal bell rang, Chris's conclusion was confirmed.  A secretary came to the classroom door and asked Mr. Rubach to step into the hallway.  A minute later Mr. Rubach returned minus the smile he was usually wearing.  A frown tugged the corners of his mouth downward, and he seemed upset as he stared out over his students.

 

     "Gang, I've got some bad news to report.  Todd Fletcher and Matt Moran have been taken to Rampart General Hospital.  We don't know all the details, but evidently the two boys skipped school this morning and climbed the water tower a few miles from here. They had to be rescued by paramedics."

 

     A boy sitting next to Chris laughed.

 

     "Why? 'Cause they were too chicken to climb back down?"

 

     "No, Jason, they weren't too chicken.  They evidently disturbed a beehive.  Todd was stung several times, but that's all the information I have."

 

     Chris took an educated guess as to what else had been going on at that water tower.  Drugs.  He was sure Matt and Todd had been up there doing drugs.

 

     If only I'd talked to Todd sooner.  If only I'd talked to Uncle Johnny sooner.  Then I could have gotten Todd out to Uncle Johnny's ranch, and Uncle Johnny could have talked to him.

 

     Chris barely heard Mr. Rubach say all after-school activities were canceled because of the news he'd just delivered. 

 

     "All students are to go right home," the teacher instructed.  "There have been news reports about Matt and Todd on television, but their names haven't been released.  However, the name of our school has been released, which means your parents will want to know you're safe."

 

     Five minutes later the dismissal bell rang.  Chris trudged to his locker, his dark thoughts making his footsteps slow and heavy.  He grabbed the books he needed and put them in his backpack.   As he was walking toward the exit where the bike racks were located, Coach Donaldson stopped him.  The man tapped his fist lightly against the top of Chris's bowed head.

 

     "Don't look so glum there, DeSoto.  I was watching the news on the TV in my office.  The paramedic who was hurt rescuing Moran and Fletcher isn't your dad."

 

     Chris looked up.  "A paramedic was hurt?"

 

     "Yeah.  Stung several hundred times by bees, the reporter said, and admitted to Rampart hospital in serious condition.  That is, if you can believe what those news people say."

 

     "Did they give the paramedic's name?"

 

     "Uh. . .John Page, I think. Or John Tage maybe.  Something like that."

 

     "Gage?  Was it John Gage?"

 

     "Yes, that was it.  John Gage."

 

     The coach watched as the boy took off for the door at a run.

 

     "DeSoto!  DeSoto!  Chris, are you okay?"

 

     Chris never looked back as he waved a hand in the air to indicate to his coach he was fine.  What a stupid question, anyway.  Of course he was fine.  It was Uncle Johnny who was hurt.

 

     The thirteen-year-old made quick work of opening the combination lock that kept the front wheel of his bike strapped to the rack.  He wrapped the lock around the stem of the handlebars and secured it, then jumped on the bike's seat.  Rather than go home like Mr. Rubach had instructed, Chris headed his bike in the opposite direction, toward Station 51.

 

________________________

 

     Roy stood when his son entered the station.

 

     So much for Chris being at basketball practice.

    

     Before Roy had the opportunity to do more than glare at Chris, the phone rang.  Mike answered it, then held the receiver out to Roy.

 

     "Roy, it's Joanne."

 

     Roy pointed a stern finger at his son.  "You stay right there."

 

     Chris wasn't sure why his father was so angry with him.  He shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed by the way the other men in the room picked up on his father's anger, and were trying hard to act nonchalant by making small talk with him.

 

     Roy turned away from the group, attempting to keep this conversation with his wife as private as possible.  Joanne's tone broadcast her upset as she relayed to Roy what a neighbor had told her about Todd and Matt, and how that same neighbor said all after-school activities were canceled and the students were instructed to go right home.

 

     "But Chris isn't home yet, Roy!  He should have been here thirty minutes ago if he left the school building as soon as the last bell rang.  Normally I wouldn't be so worried, but with the way he's been acting lately, and with one of the boys who skipped school being Todd--"

 

     And you don't even know the half of it yet, Jo.  How will I ever tell you the news Doctor Brackett gave me?

 

     For now Roy gave his wife the only news he was going to until he went off duty the next morning and could talk to her in the privacy of their home.

 

     "Joanne, Chris is here at the station."

 

     "At the station?  What's he doing there?"

 

     "I don't know.  He just walked in.  I'm going to talk to him, and then I'll send him home."

 

     "All right.  Just make sure you tell Chris he's to come straight home when you're finished speaking with him."

 

     "I will."

 

     Roy hung up the phone on that promise.  He realized then, that Joanne must have not seen the news reports on TV about the incident that afternoon since she didn't ask about Johnny.  That was all right for now. There'd be plenty of time to tell her the whole story in the morning.

 

     The paramedic faced his son and pointed toward the back door.

 

     "Let's go outside."

 

     Chris gave a quiet "Bye," to the men in the room who said in turn, "See ya', Chris,"  "Bye, Chris,"  "See ya' later, Chris," as though they hadn't picked up on the fact that Chris's father was pissed at him for some reason.

 

     When the door closed behind Roy and his oldest son, they were standing in Station 51's back parking lot.  Roy crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at his teenager.

 

     "First question.  What are you doing here?  That was your mother on the phone.  She said after-school activities were canceled and you were instructed to go straight home."

 

     "I know, but Coach Donaldson told me Uncle Johnny had been hurt, and I wanted to find out--"

 

     "Uncle Johnny was hurt, but that's neither here nor there at the moment."

 

     "But how bad was he--"

 

     "Since he's your confidant, maybe you should wait and ask him yourself."

 

     "Huh?"

 

     "Chris, why didn't you come to me or your mother?  Why did you go to Uncle Johnny with something that important?"

 

     "Because Todd--"

 

     "This has nothing to do with Todd.  It's you we're talking about."

 

     "Me?"

 

     "Yes, you.  Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was today when Doctor Brackett had to tell me my son was doing drugs?"

 

     "What?  Why would Doctor Brackett say that?"

 

     "Christopher, enough with the lies!  I won't put up with them any longer.  Your mom and I have always made it clear to you that you can come to us with any problem, any problem at all.  But to go sneaking around behind my back to your Uncle Johnny. . .well, I've already let Johnny know how furious I am with him, so now it's your turn to find out just how angry this entire charade makes me.  We have a lot to discuss, son, but this is not the time or place.  I want you to--"

 

     The klaxons sounded before Roy could finish.  The entire station was toned out.  The man thrust a finger into his son's chest.

 

     "Go home, Chris.  I mean it.  You get on that bike and you go straight home.  I'll be calling your mother later.  You're not going to school tomorrow.  You, your mother, and me, will be sitting down to have a long talk about your newfound drug habit.  No thirteen-year-old son of mine is going to endanger his health, and his life, in that manner.  I won't tolerate it in my home, Chris.  It's not allowed, period."

 

     Chris stood there with his mouth hanging open as his father ran into the building.  He had no idea where his father, or Doctor Brackett, had come by their misinformation.

 

     Me?  Doing drugs?

 

     The boy waited until he heard the truck and squad leave the station.  He climbed back on his bike and headed for the one place he thought he might find answers to all his questions. Rampart Hospital.

 

Chapter 15

 

    

     Chris locked his bike in the metal rack outside Rampart’s main entrance. He adjusted his backpack more firmly onto his shoulders and walked into the vast lobby. He approached the receptionist sitting at the wide desk shaped like a crescent moon. The gray-headed woman looked over her reading glasses at the teen.

 

     “May I help you?”

 

     “I’m here to visit John Gage.  Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

 

     “Afternoon visiting hours just ended, son, and evening visiting hours don’t start until seven.  Aside from that, you have to be sixteen to visit a patient.”

 

     “I am.”

 

     The woman arched a skeptical eyebrow.  “You’re sixteen?”

 

     “Yes.”

 

     “You don’t look sixteen.”

 

     “Well. . .I. . .I just turned sixteen last week.  I guess I’m kinda short for my age.”

 

     “I guess you are,” the woman said, while trying not to smile. “Regardless, visiting hours don’t start until seven.”

 

     “But I won’t stay long. No more than ten minutes.”

 

     The woman shook her head.  “I’m sorry, but those are the rules.”

 

     Chris sighed and stepped back so the florist making a delivery could have access to the receptionist. Chris looked around.  He spotted a sign pointing the way to the emergency room.  He glanced over his shoulder.  The receptionist was busy signing for the floral delivery.  While her attention was elsewhere, Chris disappeared down the long corridor that led to the ER.

 

________________________

 

     Dixie McCall glanced up when she heard the name, “John Gage.”  She saw a familiar teenage boy talking to one of her young nurses.  The nurse shook her head in response to whatever Chris DeSoto had asked her.

 

     Dixie stepped out from behind the nurses’ station.

 

     “Chris?”

 

     Roy’s son walked over to the woman he’d known since he was five.

 

     “Hi, Dixie.”

 

     “Hi, yourself.  What are you doing here?”

 

     “I came to see Uncle Johnny.”

 

     “Oh. Well, kiddo, I’m afraid that’s not possible right now.”

 

     “Why not?”

 

     “He’s in Intensive Care.”

 

     Chris paled. “He was hurt that