This is a text version of the original still airing imaged, music soundtracked story.

Emergency Theater Live, Episode Thirty One

31. All That Glitters  Season Five- Episode  31
 
Short summary-
Chet's luck isn't as good as he thinks it is the day
Johnny goes money grubbing with the best of them.



****WARNING****  
 
The long summary to come is very story spoiling and will take
away plot surprises if you read it now before reading the longer
story below it.

Decide now if you want to read this episode's detailed summary before doing so.

 


 

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Long Summary-
The gang makes fun of Johnny when he's caught practicing how to pan for
gold in a bucket out in the station's back yard.  Later, at lunch, Chet kids
Johnny for forgetting his gloves all the time while working with hot things 
when he cuts his own finger on a veggie knife and faints. The gang treats
him and discover that he donated blood excessively before work.
They give him the third degree and a little paramedic hardball for
being stupid. The squad responds to a motorcross injury at a busy track.
They encounter a second incident there involving two children colliding
on bicycles. Gage stays behind to treat them while Roy transports the
first rider. Chet plays right into a vampire themed gag on him. Station 51 
gets called to a house fire and help a sister station's firefighter when
he falls through a roof. Chet's taken out by a water heater ejected piece
of wood and gets treated by another station. Johnny learns the art of
gold dredging on his weekend off and rescues a diver from drowning.
He shares a success story with the gang at work later on, in the form 
of a huge blue sapphire, and a hefty stipend, displayed with pride.


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The Story Unfolds...

Season Five, Episode Thirty One..
 
 §§  All That Glitters  §§
 
Debut Launch: March 1st, 2006. 

 
**************************************************
From: "crash200225" <crash200225@yahoo.com> 
Date: Sun Mar 12, 2006  3:39 am 
Subject: Gold Fever  
   

The men from Station 51's A-shift looked down at Johnny as he
squatted next to a wide, shallow bucket half filled with sand,
pebbles, and water.  In his hand was a small pan with sloped sides
that he carefully swirled.

"John," Cap sighed.  "You want to explain, again, why you are panning
for gold in a bucket in the station's parking lot?"

"I'm just practicing."  Johnny said as he continued the
swirling.  "You know Jim Hanes out of 110's? He and his wife, Pam, go
dredging for gold every spring and summer.  They invited me to go
with them to the Kern River for a few days to help them out in about 
two weeks."

"Doesn't the water run too swift until July?"  Roy asked, knowing his
partner would dive into anything without much thought.  "I know they
have a sign up near the road saying how many people have drown in the
river."

Johnny laughed and said, "Jim and Pam are both experienced.  They'll
keep me out of trouble.  Besides, the upper Kern, that is the river
above the dam, is off limits to dredging.  We'll be going to a small
creek that feeds into the lower Kern, below Lake Isabella.  It's all dry
except for when the snow is melting off the high Sierras."

"Isn't a dredge a large machine that suctions out the bottom of lakes and
stuff?"  Marco asked.  "It can't possibly fit into a creek, can it?"

Johnny answered,  "They make them in many sizes.  The one Jim has is
made for prospecting.  It had two pontoons about six feet long.  It
uses an engine and air compressor to power the pump, and keeps the
person under water supplied with air.  It's a little like scuba diving, only
in shallow water and instead of air tanks, there are air lines going
down to the diver's regulator. Pam said it has a three inch intake
tube that is thirty feet long. She also said you wouldn't want to put any 
body part in front of the intake. She'll be in charge of keeping the gas tank
full, because if it ever stopped, the diver digging under the creek 
would have no air.  She'll  also watch the baffle for large nuggets that 
might not get caught in it."

Cap cleared his throat and asked, "So what's your hand panning 
here got to do with it if the machine does all the work?"

"It can't do it all.  Jim said it's easy to pick out the small
nuggets, but you still gotta pan the old fashion way to get the fine flakes
that the baffle may not catch.  You pan the sand and small pebbles
that flow off the end of the conveyor for the majority of the flakes."

Chet couldn't resist.  "You're a flake, Johnny, for getting caught
up in all of this. I hate to inform you, but the great Californian 
Gold Rush was over two hundred years ago."

Johnny ignored him. Pointedly.

Mike shook his head at Chet's remark and inquired,  "Isn't a baffle
kind of like a sifter in rapids with all the gold settling heavier than the 
rock and sand? Don't the larger nuggets stay in the bottom of this 
baffle thing while most of all the rest flows over them and off the dredge?"

Johnny grinned.  "Yep, except the baffles are thin and metal.  Kinda
like rungs on a ladder that have been laid flat."

"Well, Johnny, sounds like you know a lot about this."  stated
Roy.  "Sounds like it might be kinda fun doing all that."

"Yeah, it does sound like fun.  I can't wait." Johnny replied.

"You're going to have to, John.  Get this cleaned up.  You have cooking
duty and it's almost lunch.  I don't know about the rest of you, but
I'm starved."  Cap said as his stomach growled.

"Be right in, Cap."  Johnny sighed as he started cleaning up the 
mess he had made.  "Man, you should see some of the gold nuggets 
they've found already. They're beautiful."

Roy smirked.  "I think you've got gold fever, you know that? You're
practically salivating here just talking about it."

"No, I don't." said Gage, putting dripping hands carefully onto his hips.

"Johnny, I'm telling you, you have gold fever.  You should see your
eyes when you talk about it.  They light up like, well, sun glinting
off a piece of gold."  Roy retorted, still smirking.

"No, they d-..."

"Gage. Lunch. Now."  came the voice of Cap from the bay door.

"On my way."  Johnny mumbled.  "Gold fever. I do not have gold
fever.  I'm gonna get rich.  Maybe I'll even find the motherlode
all the stories say is still up there."

Roy just shook his head as he followed Johnny into the station. He
knew he'd be listening to his partner for the next two weeks about
this adventure he was going to go on.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos: None.

**************************************************
From: "Roxy Dee" <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> 
Date: Thu Mar 16, 2006  11:17 am 
Subject: Red, Red, Wine, You Make Me Feel So Fine~~ 

 
Lunch was in full swing and Johnny was trying his hand at
making something that wasn't a natural recipe in his family.
Spaghetti.

"Here, Chet. Come help me add these roma tomatoes to
the sauce. It's almost ready." Gage said, holding out a paring
knife.

"It's not my day for k.p. detail. It's yours." Chet said, opening up
the refrigerator in a hunt for something to drink before lunch.
His stomach rumbled audibly.

"Quit being so stubborn here. By the sound of all things gastronomical, 
you're hungrier than Cap is." Johnny said in exasperation. "Now help me
out before the sauce bruises."

Hank gave a snort from where he was reading his newspaper. "Sauce
can bruise?"

Roy piped up from a shoe he was polishing. "I think he means scorching."

"No, I meant what I said." Johnny insisted, still holding out the knife for
Chet to take while he quickly stirred the pan with the simmering hamburger,
the pot with the boiling linguini and tossed the wooden bowl holding fresh 
nearly whole romaine and raddichio greens to coat them with Caesar 
dressing. "You know, where the sauce turns dark from under attention."

"Scorching." Roy mouthed silently to the others as he shrugged again, 
without looking up.

Gage stalked over to Chet and opened his palm and handed him
the vegetable knife like a surgical assistant handing off an operating
tool. "Go slice 'em up, wouldya? Please? I only got two hands ya know."

"All right, Johnny. Don't have a cow. I will. But under protest. Everyone, you're
my official witnesses. This means I get to ask Johnny here to do something
next time it's my turn to cook." said Kelly.

"Done." said Cap. "Hurry it up, Kelly. Me and the rest of the gang are still 
starving."

"I'm hurrying. I'm hurrying." said, Chet, glancing down at the cutting board
as he chunked up the smallish tomatoes and added them to Johnny's
sauce pot. When Gage wasn't looking, he added more burgundy wine
to the hamburer in a quick splash and turned up the heat to denature the 
extra added alcohol away.

Johnny glanced back at the fresh hiss of steam but didn't catch on at all.

Then the oven buzzer went off. Gage hurried over and shut off the knob.
He was so frantic about making sure nothing burned that he forgot to
remember using heating pads when he reached for the bread tray.

Hank bellowed out loud. "Gloves!"

Gage immediately snatched his hand back with a wince. "Sorry, Cap. I
forgot."

"Yeah? Well one of these days, you're gonna remember on your own."
Hank chuckled. "The oven's no different a place than inside a car wreck
for safeguarding yourself. Aren't you sick of getting stitches at Rampart
yet?"

"Apparently not." Roy giggled, turning around to toss the pads to his
partner so he could take out the garlic french bread length from the
oven.

"How often do I cook here? I'm entitled to a few mistakes. Usually I rate
all the latrine detail."

"That's for being tardy, John. Not because we don't like your cooking."
Cap corrected.

Chet chuckled.
"He's not the brightest bush in the woods, DeSoto. I don't know how
you've managed to work together for so long without him managing to 
chop off one of your arms or legs with a roaring K-12."

"I'm bigger than he is. Whenever it inadvertantly points at me or a victim
I usually wrestle the blade away from our danger zone in time." replied Roy.

"You shouldn't have to. " Chet said looking up. "That's the point I'm mak---OwW!
Cr*p." he said, dropping the knife and putting a smartly cut finger into his mouth.
He left the back counter to go sit down on the couch near Henry. "I'm through."

"You're not done yet." complained Johnny.

"There's only one tomato left to cut up. You do it." said Chet mumbling around his
index finger. "I'm a little busy right now stopping this from---" he broke off
what he was saying when a strong squirt of blood gushed out from between his
teeth and down his chin. Kelly immediately paled and he pulled it out, staring
dumbly at his fountaining finger. He groaned, "Oh, ...I.. think I did a Gage, guys.
I think I'm gonna be--" Then he crumpled and sagged, landing chin up with his 
head flung over the back of the couch. He stopped moving and his eyes fluttered 
shut.

"Chet..quit kidding." said Marco. "So you nicked an artery. That cut's small
enough for you to handle."

"Chet?" Roy said, looking up.

Henry whined and started sniffing at Chet's lax face, ignoring the bleeding finger.
Then the color washed completely out of Chet's lips, too.

All the guys slammed out of their seats and rushed over to him.

Cap snapped out an order. "Gage, turn off the stove first. Then you can
get over here." he said as he crouched down next to Kelly. He put a hand
to Chet's neck to feel for a pulse. He expected it to be fast from  
typical faking it while joking tension, but it wasn't. "It's slow." he said, 
looking up in surprise. "Very slow."

"I'll go get the gear." Roy said. He grabbed a towel from the table. He tossed
it to Lopez. "Here. Stop that finger hemorrhaging. Wipe his mouth
out, too, so he can breathe a little better. I'll be right back."

"You mean he's not faking, Cap?" Johnny said, the smile leaving his face as
he got to the couch.

"Not this time. What happened?" Hank asked, a little worried.

Johnny frowned as he pulled out a penlight. "Dilated pupils? I don't know
yet. Let's get him onto the floor. Marco, quit messing with his face. The blood's
all mopped up already. His throat sounds clear. Concentrate on that finger 
instead. See if you can tell how bad it might be tendon wise once it stops 
bleeding."

"Gage. It's nothing. I can tell already. Looks like a pinprick." Marco said.

"Then it's just a lucky poke then." Johnny sighed.

"You mean unlucky." frowned Stoker. "Want me to get the O2?"

"Not yet. He was hyperventilating a little. Remember? He was sure
arguing up a storm with me. Last thing we wanna do is flood his
system with too much."

Roy arrived with the trauma box, the biophone and the EKG monitor.
"How's he doing, Johnny?"

"Still blacked out."

"His pressure coming back up yet?" asked Cap, keeping Kelly's
head tilted back gently so he could breathe without problems.

Johnny felt at the wrist, and when he felt at the brachial groove, he still 
felt nothing. He moved to another check at Chet's carotid and found a weak
sluggish beat there. "Nope. It's still sitting somewhere below seventy."

"Doesn't make sense. Chet's not squeamish. Not at all." said Marco.
"So why did he pass out? Is it because he cut his finger?"

"There must be another reason why he fainted. Something we haven't
found yet." said Roy, unbuttoning Chet's uniform shirt. He was going to
cut apart Kelly's t-shirt with his clothes shears, but checked himself 
and pulled the material up loosely around his jawline instead. Then he 
reached for a blood pressure cuff from a gear box."Nicking an artery where 
he has usually doesn't hurt at all."

Then Stoker pointed out something. "Look at his left arm, Gage. Is
that a bandaid?"

Johnny turned Kelly's arm while Roy started to get a blood pressure reading.
"It sure is." He pulled it off. "Looks like a needle mark or something here.
Right at the crook of the elbow."

"He's got one over here, too." said Marco, pointing to the right arm.

"What the heck?" Johnny rocked back onto his heels in exasperation.
"Now I know Chet isn't some kind of cheap street junkie. What are these
for?"

Cap, fiddling with Chet's t-shirt to expose his chest area further for the 
monitor's pads, found the final clue. It was a red sticker with white lettering 
on it. "I think I got the answer to that. Found this sticker on his shirt here. It 
says," and he squinted as he read the fine print. "I gave blood today."

Johnny asked. "Does it have a date on it?"

"Yep. And a time. This morning. About two hours ago." Hank replied with a
relieved sigh. He began tapping Chet's face lightly with a few fingers. "Hey..
Chet.. Come on, pal. Wake up now. You're doing just fine." he said, keeping his 
steady airway hold on him using both of his knees like a vice on either side of
Chet's head.

Kelly finally moaned weakily. He tried to cough then, beginning to come to.

"Atta boy. Try to open those eyes. Lunch's getting cold waiting for us." smiled Hank.

Chet began to breathe in deeper and deeper but remained half out.

"So that's why he was digging in the frig for something to drink early. He probably
didn't take the juice the nurse handed out at the blood center like he should
have because he was late coming in to work." Gage said, noticing how he
was waking up.

Marco got busy with the limb leads. Then he hesitated. "He's gonna need
a shaver. He's more furry than an Italian stallion here. I can't find places to stick
these."

"I'll get one." said Stoker, rising to his feet. He jogged out for a disposable one
from the locker room spares box.

Johnny got up and got two of the couch cushions propped up under Chet's feet
and legs. "This'll speed things up a little faster. Roy, his pulse's still forty.
But regular."

"Vasovagal?" DeSoto asked, pulling the stethoscope down and out of his ears.

"That'd be my best guess. Still wanna call Rampart?" Johnny asked, holding up
the unactivated phone receiver.

"Do you?" Roy asked, looking a little shell shocked and slightly annoyed.

Coughing self consciously, Gage tossed it aside a few seconds later. "Let's scope 
him first and see what we got. Then we'll decide on things. He's not that sweaty yet.
The color's back in his lips. Hey, Chet. You with me yet?" he said, digging a firm 
knuckle into his breastbone.

Chet twitched his arms and groaned, but didn't open his eyes.

Mike returned with the shaver. He bent down to begin work when Roy stopped him.
"He'll kill us all if we do that." Then he pulled out a small bottle of Arrid 
extra dry from his back pocket and an alcohol pad. He spread some on like defib
gel in the right places before wiping it off judiciously with the finger's towel. After the
same move with alcohol and another wipe off, he added a second coat from his sample
sized Arrid roll on. "Ok, now try them, Marco."

"Where'd you learn that trick?" asked Cap as the pads stuck through the furry mat of
Chet's chest hair.

"In Nam. From a very saucy nurse major named Hot Lips Hoolihan." Roy grinned.
"She taught me a lot of front line medic tricks like that one. Those pads are gonna keep
on sticking for at least a week." he said, flipping on the scope. "Still got brady showing, 
Johnny. But nothing grossly abnormal is really apparent here."

"Let me see."

DeSoto turned the scope so Cap and Gage could both see it. The rate was rising but
still a bit sluggish.

Henry barked loudly from his place sitting up on the remaining couch cushion and 
that made Kelly twitch into consciousness, working better than smelling salts. 

"Oh,.. my head." Chet coughed. "Dizzy..." Then he realized where he was.
"What am I doing on the floor?"

"You fainted." Johnny grinned, picking up Chet's hand to examine the finger
nick. "Right after you did this.." he said showing Kelly the tiny wound.

"I did not."

Cap laughed. "You sure weren't sleeping any. How do you feel now?"
he asked, releasing Chet's head.

"I feel like something Henry dragged outta the trash."

"That's normal." Roy said. "Takes a few minutes for the body to regain its equilibrium
after an episode like this. Got any nausea?"

"A little." Chet said, rubbing his eyes.

"Next time, don't suck on a wound. Swallowing your blood is what makes you green."
Johnny told him. 

Chet tried to sit up.

"Ah. ah. ah.. Not so fast. Your pressure's low." Cap said, keeping him down.

"What's it at? Come on, guys. This is embarrassing. Let me up." Kelly whined.

Roy finally got irritated. "It's fifty over patent pending, Chet. Now that's a fairly
deep faint for just donating a little blood to the blood bank. How many bags did
you con them into taking out of you this morning?"

Chet was silent.

"Answer him, Chet. Cause if your BP doesn't rise to near normal in five minutes, you've
won yourself an I.V. wide open and a trip into Rampart. You can't keep your internal organs
under perfused for very long." Johnny growled.

"Well, you see.. I had extra bills to pay and so I went twice."

"You what?!" exclaimed Cap.

"I changed my clothes into a new disguise and went to a different 
nurse a half hour later."

"How many.." Gage pressed, getting angry.

"Five. I think, uh,... five pints." Chet peeped.

"Without eating or drinking anything?" DeSoto asked incredulously.

"Uh,.. yeah. Look guys, I really needed the money."

Hank got livid. "I don't think the fire department would enjoy dishing
out injured pay to someone stupid enough to donate on a work day
who'd actually be dumb enough then to try a scba sweep of a house fire 
afterwards. They have rules for that kind of incompetence. Stoker, 
go get him that gallon jug of orange juice. Now. He's gonna stay right here, 
on the floor, until he drinks the whole thing while we're watching."

"Aw, Cap. I'm not thirsty any more."

"That's because you're in shock, Chet. Psychogenic and maybe even
some slight hypovolemic shock."

"I am not."

"The monitor's bleeping out your brady big time." Gage insisted. "Here,
let me turn on the alarms for ya..." he yelled. The Tetronix warbled and
whistled fluting tones to beat the band over the supressed cardiac rhythm 
which only made a very worried Henry start howling. 

Until Cap turned them off again. "All right. Enough of the sand box routine.
Guys, is he serious enough to be put on the sick list?"

"No.."
  "Nope." said DeSoto and Gage. "Not for simple vasovagal syncope 
syndrome."

"Are you sure that's what this is?" Hank roared.

Gage stuttered. "Uh,.. r-reasonably sure. We'll know more after
he eats and drinks a whole ton.." he glared at Chet.

"Ok. guys, lift him into a chair. We're feeding him lunch. Is he ready
for that yet?" Hank asked no nonsense.

"Uh, hang on. Let me check." Roy said, grabbing up Chet's wrist. He
could just barely feel a pulse there. "He can sit. Pressure's back up
to at least ninety."

Kelly protested when the guys each grabbed a limb while Johnny followed
behind them with the cardiac monitor. "Oh, come on. I can walk just fine."

"No, drink and chew first. And that's an order." said Hank, pulling out a kitchen
chair. The guys set him down from their four man arm and leg sitting carry
before they hurried back to their own plates to pile them high with spaghetti. 

Johnny made it a sore point by plunking down the EKG monitor right next
to Chet's lunch plate so he could see its now tachycardic rate leap across the
screen. He turned on the periodic alarm so that it bleeped at him full volume.
"You got five minutes to make this shut up." he said, tapping the screen
with an angry finger. "Or it's Brackett's and a Ringer's time to take over. Eat!"

"And drink all of that." Roy punctuated, shoving the jug of orange juice he 
had just warmed up in the oven over to him. 

Chet suffered Marco tucking in a napkin over his T-shirt. "Ok.. ok.. I learned
my lesson." he said sheepishly. "Sorry, Cap. Didn't mean to pull a fast one
at the blood bank. I just needed to make rent I'm behind on."

"Well, why didn't you ask us all for a loan?" Gage sighed. "We would've
helped ya."

"It's not easy for a guy to ask for help money wise, is it? Gimme a break."
Chet said in complaint, holding his head as he forced himself to drink
a few large swallows straight out of the jug. Then he put it down. "So why'd
I black out? Seeing blood doesn't bother me."

"Of course it doesn't." said Roy. "Not coming from others. It's a whole different story
when it's coming out of yourself. Tell me quite truthfully, when's the last time you
cut youself wide open at an artery?"

"Uh.. I don't think I ever have before."

"Now that's pure deja moo." scoffed Stoker.

"Pure what?" Kelly asked. "What's deja moo?"

"The feeling that you've heard that line of bull before."
Stoker replied, putting a bandage over Chet's punctured
finger to keep it from bleeding out again.

"No, truthfully. I haven't. I've lived a charmed life wound wise.
And so have you, Stoker. I don't even remember the last time you
managed to hurt yourself." sniffed Chet, shoveling in his food around
some lingering nausea. A few swallows of juice later and the EKG 
monitor's alarms silenced as the rate fell below 120. "There. See?
I'm fine."

"Now you are.." mumbled Marco.

Kelly chewed a slice of bread and blushed. "So, what do they call 
what happened to me?"

"Syncope." said all the others in stereo.

Chet made a face at his orange juice. "Yuck, this stuff's putrid luke warm.
Lopez, grab me a glass of ice cubes to chill this down, would ya?"

"Sure, pal." said Marco, getting up.

Roy and Johnny both shot out of their chairs and blocked off access
to the freezer. "No you're not. That'll make him faint again."

"What? That's sheer craziness." Kelly protested. "Marco, go ahead
and grab some out for me."

Cap interceded. "No, belay that."

Chet threw up his hands. "Ok, tell me why I can't drink cold stuff."

Johnny and Roy sat down again only when Marco did first. 

Gage glared at him. "It's because your vagus nerve runs from 
your eyeballs to your butt, Chet. Ever heard of the diving reflex?
Anything monkeying around your trachea and esophagus like
cold or touch will set off another faint by dropping your heart rate
down into the basement again. Especially if that nerve's still freshly 
irritated like it is."

"What? I didn't drink cold liquids or swallow anything before.."
complained Kelly.

"No, you triggered your vagal faint for being low blood sugared and
then thinking about that active bleeding in your finger." Roy countered.
"How is it by the way? Has that finger bleeding stopped yet?"

"It has." answered Stoker for him. "And he's got full circulation,
feeling and function in it, too."

"Thanks, Mike." said Roy. "It must have just been a spurting nick then."

Gage was evil. "Better watch out, because once you've figured out how to 
do that mental trick fainting one time, Chet, you'll be able do it again." he said,
trying not to grin.

Kelly fell for it, hook, line and sinker. "You mean at the sight of blood?
Every time?" he asked genuinely crestfallen.

"Not every time. Only when you bleed out yourself. It's called negative 
association." Johnny chided. "Kids develop phobias from bad experiences
like that all the time. It's because of the way your synapses impress while in
the shock state. It sets up a spontaneous fainting tendency into your nervous 
system."

"Yeah, well I'm not a kid." Chet said defensively, feeding Henry half a bread
slice to calm him down. "That wouldn't be a good trait to have being a firefighter 
like I am. Cap, that could get nasty if I'm in a rough spot somewhere when it happens."

The others kept their silence, seeing the value of tough love.

"Gonna take work beating that new reflex." Johnny went on.

"I'll do anything you tell me." Kelly said gratefully.

Johnny primed the pot. "Pull off those EKG pads. You've recovered."
he said, shutting off the now unbleeping EKG monitor.

Chet yanked on his wires and yelped immediately. "OwwWWW! That smarts!"

The gang burst out into loud laughter, pointing at him. Sympathetically,
Marco patted Chet on the back to ease the joke's sting.

"You mean I won't be an easy fainter after today?"

"No, you won't. Just don't give blood without eating or drinking anything
again like you did this time." Roy rescued him. "Just pull off the snaps. 
Leave the pads. I made some improvised glue to get through all that chest 
fur of yours. Figured you wouldn't mind waiting for them to fall off over waiting 
for the hair to grow back in."

"You thought right." Kelly insisted, checking out his chest unfruitfully, 
because his neck wouldn't bend that far down to allow him to see anything.
He contented himself with tucking his T-shirt back in around the pads 
and rebuttoning up his blue outer shirt. "Thanks for not splitting open my 
underwear, Roy." he said. "Uh,.. I meant, my T-shirt."

"No problem." DeSoto said, buried once again into his newspaper.
His food was already gone and milk glass empty.

Cap sighed, pushing away his own plate. "Marco, after you finish up,
put the med gear away, ok?"

"Sure, Cap."

The tones went off.

Hank kept a hand on Chet's shoulder to keep him in his chair when 
Kelly failed to realize right away that it was a call for just the squad, 
without the engine company.

Gage snatched up the EKG monitor and neatly wrapped the wires into
a coil before snapping it shut for potability. Marco helped Roy
gather up the other gear boxes to put them away into the squad's
side compartments. "Guys, keep an eye on him. Cap, make sure you
make him sleep it off after that orange juice jug's gone."

"I will." Cap promised. 

##Squad 51. Biker down at the Glen Helen Motorcross Park. 1700 West
Carlsbad Way. 1700 West Carlsbad Way. Cross street, rural route,
McKenna County 5. Time out: 12:11.##

Cap rose to acknowledge L.A. for his paramedics so they could speed
up their belting in. "10-4. Squad 51 is responding. KMG 365.." he
said into the alcove mic.

Squad 51 roared out into the brilliant morning sunlight.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:   Johnny cooking souffle.

Photo:  Cap lecturing Roy and Johnny over cutting veggies.

Photo:  Chet down.

Photo:  Johnny looking down at someone on the floor in the station.

Photo:  Cap holding Henry, with oxygen and a blanket.

Photo:  The tetronix EKG monitor, turned at ya.

Photo:  The squad leaving the bay right at ya.

***************************************************************
From: Sam Iam <lafddispatcher@yahoo.com> 
Date: Fri Mar 17, 2006  5:49 pm 
Subject: Getting There.. 


Johnny started laughing spontaneously in the squad for 
no apparent reason. 

It made Roy smile when he figured out why. He glanced
over at his partner. "I know. That was sheer stupidity,
wasn't it?" he smirked.

"You think I'd be used to Chet's antics by now. But that little
stunt took the cake and ate it, too. Boy, I'm sure glad he's
all right." Gage giggled. 

"Me, too. Well, you got a chance to get your revenge out of it for
him scaring us all out of our wits like that..Have no fear."

Johnny looked at him askance. "I don't get it. How do you figure?"

Roy elaborated."He's gonna look like a vampire for the next few 
days due to his anemia. You can take advantage of that and 
get back at him for it."

Johnny blinked, totally not comprehending. 

"You know, like he teased you about being Native American 
a while back with that crazy peace pipe gag." Roy tried again. 
"Y-you can use a vampire theme."

"Oh.. Heh. How exactly do I do that?" Johnny said, leaning an elbow 
out the sunny window, seriously listening.

"You could always be subtle at the start. How about hanging garlic 
strings around your bed or... how about leaving a wooden stake 
and crucifix under Chet's pillow. "

Gage warmed up to the idea offering a thought of his own. "..or exchanging 
his sheets for a body bag.." Johnny smiled mildly. "I'm surprised at you, 
Roy. In all the years I've known you, this is the first time I've ever seen you 
trying to be sneaky. You're actually helping me plan and pull a series of fast 
ones on Kelly." Johnny gaped.

"Why not? I'm enjoying the war. And so are the rest of the guys." he sniffed,
turning back to watch the road as they sped along code three. "I'm
gonna try everything I can to keep it going. For Cap's sake."

Johnny's amused grin fell into one of wary suspicion. "For Cap's sake? 
Why uh, H-how does he fit into all of this?"

"He's got a betting pool running on the two of you." admitted Roy with 
a mild shrug.

Johnny shifted on his seat in dismay and readjusted his loose helmet
strap impatiently when they hit a series of railroad tracks without 
slowing down. "You've got money down on us?! Roy, that's unethical.
That's.. that's tacky.." he complained. Then his face completely 
changed expression. "So, who did ya pick to win?"

"You." Roy pointed. "Chet doesn't have enough class to outlast ya."

"How long do I got to beat him?" Johnny asked mildly.

"Can't tell ya." DeSoto smiled. "Because that would influence the outcome
and possibly throw off the entire contest. I don't want to skew the results 
one way or the other."

"You're all heart."

"I try to be." Roy said just as fast. "Earning a little extra cash at the expense 
of others harmlessly sure takes the sting out of the memory of all those 
short matchstick-long matchstick chore drawings I always manage to lose."

Johnny's mouth fell clear open. "Roy, you haven't managed to lose even
one of those drawings in my recollection." he said incredulously.

"Really?"

"Yes.." Gage said empathetically.

"Oh. Guess I'm remembering wrong then."

"You sure are.....Man.." Johnny sighed. Then he pointed business-like
at a turn in front of them. "Take a left here. It's a short cut and it'll save
us a minute or two."

Roy dutifully squealed the squad into the turn. "How far are we?"

"Four minutes. Tops. We should start seeing the track in the distance 
up the mountainside in a few seconds. Look right to your one o'clock."

Roy soon spotted their objective. He gave a low whistle under his breath.
" *WheWWwww* What a terrain."

Johnny nodded in agreement. "Looks like we'll have a huge crowd to 
wade through, too. Just look at all the cars! There must be ten thousand
or more folks here."

Roy silently agreed by altering their siren's slow screaming wail to a faster 
oscillation so it would be heard more clearly over the babble of excited,
highly distracted people. "Look at all the motorcycles. They must be nuts!
Did you see how high that last crunch of bikers leaped off that jump?"

"I sure did. Ouch." he said, pressing his nose against the windshield. "I think..
I think...they all made their landings ok, though." Then he squinted.
"But I can't seem to spot where the officials are waving our yellow caution flags."

"Easy way around that. We'll just drive onto the course from somewhere and run 
along it ourselves until we find them."

"What?!  Roy, no. The race is still going on. We'll kill somebody for sure."

"No we won't. Because everybody has an innate respect for anything painted
red that's bristling with pretty flashing lights. Including all the riders." he said 
cheekily. "Find me a gap in the safety fence, Johnny, would ya? Time's wasting."

Gage corked any further protest and concentrated on guiding them in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  Aerial shot of a large motorcross event.

Photo:  Crowds at a motorcross race.

Photo:   A motorcross rider leaping into the air.

Photo:   Motorcross race leaders cresting a dirt hill.

Photo:  A motorcross rider sitting air.

Photo:  Squad 51 running down a dirt track behind a crunch of
           motorcross bikers.

************************************************************************
 From: Jeff Seltun <finiterider@yahoo.com> 
Date: Sun Mar 26, 2006  6:27 pm 
Subject: Much Too Little, Too Late 

Johnny slowly let go of his tight hold on the dashboard and window frame
as the squad successfully made the track and was deftly avoided by
the bouncing, flying, motorcycle racers. Soon, the main pack outdistanced
them and disappeared over the crest of a dirt hill. "Whew.. glad that's over.
I was half expecting one of them to land on top of the squad or something
from that hilltop turn back there."

"It would never happen." grinned Roy. "We're throwing off a warning 
dust cloud five times the size of one of theirs. Anybody'd be a fool to
take a jump into something like that." DeSoto kept to the very center of
the track, moving carefully forward, waiting on his speed until the dirt plume 
billowing in front of them from the departing riders dissipated. Soon, they
had a clear view of the wide course snaking on ahead of them.

A white and red glint attracted Johnny's attention. It was a retired cadillac
ambulance parked prominently on the sidelines. Its attendants were oblivious
to the rushing rescue squad as they watched another serpentine bend in the 
track where all the riders were competing with each other for the front spot in
between spectacular aerials acrobatics. One of the white clothed men
was taking rapid photos of the leapers as they passed the sun faded old
ambulance by. "Well, at least they have all the insurance angles covered. They've 
got a volunteer crew over there. But I don't think they have radios on them.
I'm not seeing any antennaes on the roof of their ambulance." he said, peering
after the red bandana head wrapped men.

"Maybe they're working CB from the broadcasters booth. Those TV announcers
would have the best view of the track of anybody from their building." suggested 
Roy.

"Yeah, but let's still use our own service with Mayfair when we get there all right?  
The idea of letting those public ambulance attendants handle one of my patients, 
gives me the willies."

"If you say so. They're still trained properly, Johnny. Or the state never
would have issued this motorcross event their racing permits." said Roy.

"Doesn't mean I have to work with em. Would you? They both have just
sneakers on." he complained. Gage suddenly pointed. "There! There! Officials 
are waving a whole lotta yellow flags along the right margin on the straightaway. 
And it looks like the crash bales have been knocked out of their alignment."

"That's it." said Roy, looking into his peek mirror to be sure that no straggling
bikers were moving around them before he hauled on the steering wheel to
get over there quickly.

Gage was out of the truck even before it stopped moving. "What's happening here?
he asked the nearest one. "Is this the right place for us?"

"Yes. A biker lost control in the air and landed wrong. We're getting him uncovered
a little better for ya." said the polo shirted official, pointing.

Roy and Johnny both glanced over in that direction while they rapidly pulled off
their helmets and left them on top of the squad while they got all their medical gear
out. A sea of backs from well meaning volunteers were clustered around a tangle
of haybales. Gage saw a pale, limp arm flop down in between a couple of feet.
He roared. "Hey! Don't move him around like that! All of you, just back off! What
if he's got a back injury or something? You wanna paralyze him?!" he said, rushing 
over to a helmeted young man lying on the ground. He had one booted leg still 
draped over a straw bale.

Murmuring apologies, the audience crowd gave him space and belatedly, 
a couple of police officers rushed up to push them back behind the sagging
chain link fence.

The downed rider was unconscious and bleeding heavily from his chin. 

Hearing the sound of weak choking, Johnny pulled out an oral airway from the
squad's resuscitator case and curled it carefully over the man's tongue to ease 
his difficult, rapid breathing. He told the referee who had tried in vain to keep
all the worried spectators from interfering, now at the rider's head, to keep holding
the man's helmet still while he suctioned out some saliva and dirt from the man's
mouth with an active wand. Then he placed an oxygen mask over the rider's nose
and mouth on high flow. "Roy. His legs are shivering. Pulse's weak but
regular."

Roy moved some of the fallen hay off the man's sun sweaty body. 
"Priapism's starting up. If he didn't have one before, he's definitely got 
a spinal cord compromise now." he said grimly, glaring up at the race 
enthusiastic, beer perfumed crowd who was now ignoring them. :: Someone's 
gonna have hell to pay for moving this injured man.:: thought Roy. ::I hope the 
TV cameras are still recording the incident. It'd be nice if this man's family 
had a legal recourse to follow up with later on. That's if we can get him
to survive that long.:: "I've found a left femur fracture and open left tib/fib ....
His chest seem to be clear though." DeSoto shared, lifting his stethoscope 
away from the man's lungs. He tested the man's pelvic stability and found 
an outward softening motion. "Possible pelvis, too." 

"I'll get a pressure. 130 at the carotid. Breathing's 22 and real shallow." said 
Gage.

Roy nodded grimly, looking at the stunned track official. 

"I'm sorry. I tried to shove them off of him but they wouldn't listen to me. 
Most of these people watching the race are drunk." said the man.

"You let alcohol in during an event like this?" Gage said, venting some 
frustration and anger as he cut away the man's nylon jump suit to unstrap 
the man's knee and elbow crash pads to look for more fractures and 
bleeding.

"I don't make the rules around here. I only try to enforce those they tell me 
about. I guess the sponsors feel that this race is no different than a baseball 
game as long as the riders don't drink anything themselves." said the dusty, 
head holding official.

"Yeah, well here's some fallout for you to go tell all of your sponsors once 
we're through treating this man. He's paralyzed now, however indirectly, 
because of that little ruling of theirs about beer and alcohol being allowed 
for spectators. Maybe if that fence line over there were in better repair, 
the general crowd might not have been able to swarm onto the track to 
monkey with this injured rider in the first place! How about them apples, 
huh?" Johnny hissed quietly into his face. Then Gage turned his back on 
him to set up the biophone to notify Rampart of their victim.
"Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

##51, this is Rampart.## came Dr. Brackett's voice. ##We read you loud 
and clear.##


"Motorcross biker down. Please stand by. We're set to immobilize a freely 
breathing spinal injury." said Gage.

##10-4, Standing by.##

Johnny set the phone receiver down.

The track man's bland haughtiness fell away into one of shock and he 
glanced over to the sideline margins as if seeing the tattered metal chain 
link fence for the first time."I never even considered that aspect... I-."

"It's not your job to do that. It's theirs." said Roy. "At least, you're helping 
us with him right now and that's what matters here. Don't feel guilty about 
this, ok? You tried your best to do what you could with what you had to 
work with. We can still make a good difference if things decide to go our 
way. He's gonna have to fight if he wants to live after today but live he 
will with a little help from all three of us, mister, if we're lucky. 
Ready to help us roll him onto this longboard? Johnny and I are going to 
be busy using these sand bags next. We're gonna immobilize his head 
and neck safely in a good line without taking this helmet off so things can't 
be made any worse for him after we get him centered on the board inside 
of these mast trousers."

"O- ok.." said the official numbly. "I'm ready. I've got a real good hold 
here." he added eagerly. He was gripping the pale biker's helmet so 
tightly that his tanned fingers were turning white.

Roy poked Johnny with an elbow while he connected the biker to the 
EKG monitor, hinting for him to soothe the track official a little. Gage 
looked at him. "I never said it was your fault. I just wanted you to be a 
messenger, sir. For all this track's future injured riders' sakes."  
Johnny managed to put on a convincing smile and all it took was a 
brief touch on the shoulder to make the man relax whole yards.  

Soon, the unconscious rider was bundled with the mast suit's first 
chamber ready to inflate on Kel's order.

Roy began filling the hospital in with their findings...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  Motorcross sideline referees.

Photo:  Motor biker down in tangled haybales.

Photo:  A biker's unconscious face with an oral airway.

Photo: Roy on the biophone while Johnny treats in the background.

Photo:  Brackett leaning down into the base station receiver.

**************************************************
From: "patti keiper" <pattik1@hotmail.com> 
Date: Wed Mar 29, 2006  10:01 am 
Subject: The Fudge Factor.. 

"Rampart, we've a male, approximately 25-30 years of age weighing 
150 pounds. Unconscious and unresponsive to pain. Multiple trauma's 
apparent. He's got a head injury of nonspecific origin with a laceration 
on his chin, a possible pelvic fracture, also involving his left femur directly. 
He has an open left tib/fib with circulation. Uh, there are also positive signs 
of spinal cord insult originating below the waist. He has non-essential tremors 
evident in both lower extremities. Vitals signs are : 
BP is 74 systolic. Pulse rate's 140 and weak. Respirations are 22 on fifteen 
liters of O2. Pupils are reactive but sluggish on the right. Our victim has 
been helmet and long board immobilized, Rampart. And that's affirmative, 
we have him placed in a PASG par your standing orders." said Roy over the 
roar of racing bikers and the crowd's cheering.

##51, you've anticipated my next question. Go ahead and inflate the abdominal
and right leg chambers one at a time, starting with the pelvic compartment first. 
We need to get that BP up now in spite of the risks. Start two large bore I.V.s
of Ringer's Lactate in both arms and send me a strip. Also, draw a red top
for a type and cross if you can.## said Brackett. 

"10-4, Rampart. This will be lead 2." said Roy twisting a dial inside the comm
box so the hospital started receiving what they were seeing on the scope.
Then he abandoned the phone. "Johnny, would you start pumping up the 
suit here? We'll do his stomach first before that uninjured leg. Go slowly. 
I'll monitor his BP while you're doing it. We can't go higher than 90 with
that possible head injury.  Are you able to find a vein on him?"

"Not yet." said Johnny, searching swiftly for one with temporarily tied off 
tourniquets. "He's getting too shocky in his arms and I think his jugulars have 
already started collapsing. I couldn't find them well enough for a good stick."

"Go IO on his right leg then. We'll leave worrying about trying something new 
before it's officially become official for later. You ok with doing that?"
Roy asked him, making sure that he had definite eye contact with Gage.

"Like we have any other choice. He'll die without getting I.V. fluids." Gage 
scoffed, working fast. Soon, he had a set of running lines into the man's tibia 
just below his right knee. "How's his pressure doing now? I got these patent
using sixteen gauges." he said, securing the flowing lines with double the tape
to hold them still. He hung both large bags off the side of a stack of hay bales.

Roy looked up from the sphyg dial and pulled off his stethoscope. "It's 84/50. 
Let's hold off on inflating that right leg. We can't do that side now because
we've got those I.V.s there."
 
"And we can't put on a Hare traction splint either on the left because
of that pelvis break. Ok. I'll monitor his respirations get him suctioned out
a little more." A few seconds later, Johnny spoke aloud to Roy when his guilt 
was highest. "Roy, I might as well give Brackett a head's up on what we did
that deviated." Gage sighed. He reached for the phone his partner handed to 
him. "Rampart, Squad 51."

##Go ahead, Johnny.##

"His pressure's in a climb, but only into the eighties with very poor extremity
perfusion even with the MAST's abdominal cavity inflated. We had no choice 
but to go intraosseus, doc."

##That was jumping the gun a bit on protocols but I'll cover for your actions. 
You both were more than right for going that route. He's in no shape to follow 
the usual run of the mill standards.## Kel said bruskly. ##Did you get both the 
lines in?##

"That's affirmative, doc. And both are on full flow."

##Support his respirations as necessary and get him in here by air.##

"10-4. Uh, we're not in a location suitable enough to call for a chopper. We're
in a large crowd." Johnny told him."Our ETA is at least fifteen minutes by land." 

Johnny heard Brackett let out a huge frustrated sigh. 
##Do what you can to keep him stabilized, 51. I'll have a surgical ward 
open and waiting upon your arrival. Bring him directly there.##

"We're on our way, Rampart." Johnny said.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were loading up the Mayfair they had summoned when the track
official ran up to them again. "Guys, don't go yet. A report about a couple
of kids colliding on their bikes has just been called in to the main booth."

"More motorcrossers?" asked Johnny.

"No, this time it's two children on the side lines. A camera man told me 
that one of them is still lying down on the ground, not moving."

Roy let out his breath. "Johnny, use your HT and I'll relay to Rampart about what
you find as long as I can while we're still within range of each other. I've got him." 
DeSoto said, pulling out what drugs he thought he might use if the racer suddenly 
lost a pulse. "I'll take out just some crash doses."

"Keep the defibrillator, too." said Johnny. "I'll call for another squad if I have to.
I'll use the track's ambulance as my backup for an extra pairs of hands." he added
as he took back the drug and trauma boxes.

"All right. I'm set. Good luck with them." he teased about the civilian ambulance
crew.  Gage made a face as his partner closed the rig's doors. Johnny delivered
two loud 'I'm locked up.' signal smacks against the door so the driver in front knew 
that Roy was now ready for departure.

He didn't even watch as the Mayfair sped away with screaming sirens for he had
turned all of his attention to the track official. "Here. Put this on and get in." Gage 
said, handing off Roy's sun warmed helmet to the fretful man as he put the
gear boxes back into their side storage racks.

"What? I'm riding with you in there?" blubbered the man about the squad.

"Yes. Because you're the only one of the two of us who knows where we're going.
Would you just hurry a little and buckle up? Kids go sour real fast, mister."
Johnny urged him, jogging to the driver's side door.

Soon, they were on their way and off the main track. But in seconds, they found 
themselves surrounded by the thickest of the milling crowds and they were forced
to slow way down. 

Johnny was relentless and leaned on the horn and whooped the siren at times 
to get their attention. "Don't people know we're responding to a medical 
emergency?!" he said slamming his hands down onto the steering wheel as they 
were stalled by a crush of bodies yet again.

"I suppose they do, but they're too distracted to pay any attention." said the 
track man. "Wait, I have an idea that might work. " He pulled out his private 
band walkie talkie and asked for concessions. 

"What are you doing?" Johnny asked in exasperation.

"Shh." said the man apologetically. "Gimme a sec, ok? This'll work.
Hiya, Stu? We need a Pabst truck asap to the western concourse. We're
bone dry. Would you get on it? Ok, thanks." and he shoved down his
antennae on his radio. "Problem solved."

"No, it's not.." insisted an agitated Gage.

"Sure it is.. Look."

A huge semitruck dripping refrigerator fog through an open rear door
slowly lumbered to a position in front of them. Painted in a broad image
across its side in advertisement, was a case of dew dripping beer bottles.
All the truck driver had to do was tap his horn once and the crowd parted
like the Red Sea before Moses. 

Gage began to smile. "Heh. Guess it is. I'm right on his tail." he said, 
putting the squad into drive once more. 

"Yep. You got the idea all right. People will always listen to their stomachs.
I'm surprised you didn't know that being a paramedic and all." he said
in amazement. 

Johnny just laughed.

Two minutes later, they found the accident site. Bikes were the mechanism
involved only they weren't the motorized kind. One bike was pink and the other was 
green and both had foot pedals. "Oh, I see now. The kids were trying to emulate 
the big guys by making their own track and jumps?"

"You got it. Right here in between all the campers.." sighed the official.

Gage hurried out of the cab with his HT and the 02 apparatus and 
went to the side of a small African American boy still entangled in the handle 
bars of his fallen bike."Hey, son. You doing ok? Can you hear me?"

The boy started to move where he lay on his back. "...Yeah.. Ow..
I wanna get up. I'm ok I tell you."

"Don't move yet." Gage said, holding a hand against his chest. "Let me 
check you out first to see how hurt you are."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a paramedic. My name's Johnny. What's yours?"

"Keenan." groaned the boy. 

"Is this your boy, ma'am?" Johnny asked, finding the woman who most looked
like his new victim.

"Yes, he is."

"Did he lose consciousness at all when this happened?"

"I don't think so. He just said he hit a jump wrong and landed on another girl
and her bike. He walked back here to tell me that and then he just sort
of fell over again and the bike came with him." said the mother.

"It did? Uh, Ok. And where is this second girl?" Gage asked, 
plying for more details. 

"Right over there." offered the boy's mother.

Johnny turned about on his squatted toes. Then he spotted his 
other victim. "I'll be right back, Keenan, ok? Just lay still for a minute 
more. Falls like this can get tricky. They can come back and bite you." 
he told the boy with a nod. "Are you dizzy?"

"No. Never was."

"Just so you know, I AM gonna take another look." he said firmly.  
"Only I can clear you of everything so don't hide the slightest 
thing from me when I get back. I'll be able to tell."

Keenan just sighed where he was still stretched out in the dirt. 
"At least, get this bike off me, it's getting heavy."

Johnny set it up and applied its kickstand.

Gage hurried over to the little girl. Two first aiders from the track
were already attending her where she sat stunned on the ground.
"Is she all right?" he asked them.

"I don't think it's anything we can't handle, sir." said one of them.

"That boy's mom over there said that he just landed on her with his bike." 
Gage told them. "That kind of force might have done quite a bit of 
damage to her internally even though her consciousness level seems 
ok so far. The only way to tell is for me to get a vitals set on her.
Is it all right if I take a look at her first before you bring her and
her parents to the first aid station?" 

"Sure, don't you outrank us or something?" smiled one of the men.

"Guess I do, I never thought of it quite in that way before." he grinned.
Gage looked the blonde girl over carefully. But the only thing she was
complaining about was a bumped chin and a couple of scraped up palms.
"Stick around, would ya. I'm gonna go take a vitals set on the first boy
and then I'll be back to get hers."

The ambulance men and parents were amenable so they waited, the
first aiders giving a status update to their department heads sitting in 
the announcer's booth.

Johnny returned to the boy's side. "How are you feeling now?"

"All right. Is it ok to move anything yet? This sun's getting too bright for
my eyes." complained the boy.

The track official took off his fire helmet and used its shadow
to block off the sun over the child's face.

"Thanks." sighed the boy as Johnny put away his penlight
after a pupillary exam.

"Do you hurt anywhere down here?" Johnny asked, feeling the long bones
in the boy's arms, and legs. He took a pulse at his wrist and found it
to be normal. "Can you feel me touching your feet?"

"Uh huh."

"Ok, move them for me. Just a little."

The boy's reactions came quickly and he didn't seem to be in any pain.

"How about your hands and arms? Can you move them as well?"

"Yeah.."

"How's your neck and back? Did you hurt them at all?"

"Nope. Just my pride.." groaned the boy. "Just gimme some ice! That's
all I need! I keep telling you guys that I'm fine. Why aren't people 
listening to me?"

The other bike girl piped up. "Because we're just kids, duh. Don't be stupid." 
she grumbled. "Look what you did. My hands are all messed up!"

"I didn't do nothin!" said the boy, sitting up. "It was your fault you
didn't follow my right of way rights. I can't help it if you were dumb
enough to ride past an active jump."

"Hey, hey, hey. now. Just settle down, the both of ya." Johnny 
shouted. "The important thing isn't trying to figure out who was right 
and who was wrong here. The most important thing is about seeing who's 
hurt and who's not, ok? So how are ya?" he asked the boy, grabbing his 
shoulder to get his glaring attention back. 

"I keep telling ya. I'm fine. I just didn't get up again because everybody
kept telling me not to so I wouldn't get paralyzed or something worse."
the boy said angrily.

The track official just shrugged self consciously. "Uh, I did make that
kind of announcement to all my employees on wide band while
you were treating the first injury.. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You did right by doing that. It's always better to play
things safer. I'm just trying to make sure things are really ok and all. 
Son, is it just your butt?" Gage asked, whispering so the still angry
little girl wouldn't overhear.

"Yeah. And yes, I can still firehose ok, too. Don't have to find out
about whether or not I can do things the other way because I already did."
the boy complained, reddening in fury.

A rising waft of wind shared that fact with Johnny right then, clearly. The
paramedic bent low, placing a hand over the boy's shoulders.
"I would have been scared sh*tless, too, if I saw I where I was going to 
crash. Don't feel bad about it." he whispered again, trying not to chuckle
at the boy's embarrassment.

"Have you ever--?"

"Of course. And it happened when I was much older than you are right now."
said Johnny animatedly. "I think I was twelve."

"What happened?"

Johnny admitted. "I wiped out waterskiing in a reservoir. Gimme
your arm. I've got to take a blood pressure reading. Then one of 
these fussy men over here will get you that icepack donut you want 
so bad."

"They'd better. I'll use it after mom gets me another pair of Under Roos
and jeans. But I don't know where I can change into them. We aren't camping
here."

"Tell you what. I'll hold up a fire tarp around ya so you can do that." Johnny 
promised. Then he got his reading. "100 overrrrr......72..." he announced.

"Is that good?"

"Yep. Let me go get your friend checked out and I'll help you with your changing."

"She's not my friend! These were my favorite pair of jeans!"

"I'll buy you a new pair, dear." soothed Keenan's mom.

"That won't be the same. It never is." whined Keenan, getting gingerly to
his feet. He limped away behind a camper to shake some poo out of
his pants leg. 

Gage sighed. "Uh, ma'am.. This man will get you that tarp from my squad's
compartment. Sir," he addressed the track official. "It's in the second from the
last compartment on the passenger's side at the top, folded up. I'll be right 
over here with her for a couple of minutes if you find you need me." he said, 
pointing to the little girl.

"We'll be ok. Keenan's very independent for his age." said his mother.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sure he is." he smiled. "He's nicer than most seven year 
olds. Very level headed."

Johnny went to check out his second bike crash child in detail.

She had ended up with just what he figured; a bruised chin, two road rashed 
palms, a slightly bitten tongue, and a huge steaming shorts load ...
just like Keenan's.

Johnny thought only the best as he was packing up, his paramedic's
perspective putting the healthiest slant on things. ::Ah, but that's a good 
sign in these two. I'll take a fudged child victim's embarrassment over their 
being totally silent, any day of week.:: 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Photo:  Roy Johnny treating a kid fallen off a bike.

 Photo: A girl down in a campground being treated by trackcrew near a bike.

 Photo: Johnny outside, looking alert at something.

 Photo:  Oxygen gear by a bike. Kid scene angry mom.
   
Photo: A  motorcross girl crash closeup.
  
Photo: A motorcross track mayfair ambulance.

**************************************************
From: "Cassidy Meyers" <killashandraRey@hotmail.com> 
Date: Wed Mar 29, 2006 4:37pm 
Subject: Hoisted By His Own Petard.. 


Johnny wandered through the ER entrance at the hospital,
looking for Roy. He found him standing in the hallway, talking
to Dr. Early.

"How's he doing?" Gage asked them both, already knowing what
the subject of converstation was about. 

"He's in surgery with Dr. Rhodes to handle a lacerated hepatic vein
that they found on one of his radiographs. It was a life threat." Dr. 
Early replied, waving hello.

"What happened with that?" Johnny wanted to know.

"He developed marked rigidity in all quadrants soon after arrival, and
his packed cell volume, after a four quadrant abdominocentesis test, started 
far exceeding his peripheral packed cell volume counts. That told us that it 
was very likely that he had either a splenic, hepatic or renal parenchymal 
laceration with hemorrhaging. Rhodes and Brackett found a liver rupture
with a lot of frank bleeding just a couple of minutes ago."

"Which the mast suit slowed down." Johnny added.

"And what your aggressive through-a-bone I.V. fluids push offset. Nice job." 
Joe smiled. "Kel told me about that move before he left for the operating
room."

"How about that paraplegia we found on him?" Gage asked, diving in
a little deeper.

Joe looked down at his hands apologetically. "It's too soon to know 
how he'll pull through on that evaluation. But he's got an abnormal 
Babinski's only on the left side."

Roy nodded. "Then there's a chance that the cord in his lumbar spine
wasn't completed severed."

"That's right. It may just be bruised with some swelling going on. You both
sound pretty relieved. What happened out there with him? Was it a
bad extrication?"

Johnny shook his head. "No. He got a little too much help from bystanders." 
Gage said seriously. "He was moved around off some haybales before we 
got there in time to stop them." he said, looking away uncomfortably.

"Oh, that's too bad. I'm sorry to hear that. But listen, he's has absolutely
every chance still going for him. Those leg fractures weren't anything
a few pins can't handle. He's almost guaranteed to survive now that 
all his internal hemorrhaging's being stopped."

"Yeah, but will he want to later, doc, if he stays permanently paralyzed 
in that same leg? That's the burning question now, isn't it?" Johnny sighed.

Joe conmiserated with Gage. "Yes, he got a bum deal, but there's 
always hope for anybody in his kind of case." Then Dr. Early licked his 
lips thoughtfully. "You want me to poke around in a few days to find how 
he turned out so I can tell you guys later?"

DeSoto looked surprised, it was almost a breach of confidentiality on Joe's
part. Almost. Roy opened his mouth once or twice, but then he said. "Uh, no
thanks. It would only get us both down in a bad way if we found out that his
spinal outcome wasn't anything but rosy."

Beside him, Johnny agreed with his partner a nod. "See you later, doc. 
Thanks for offering."

"Sure. No problem. See you later, fellas." Dr. Early waved and he
started walking away.

"Bye." they both said. They gathered up their medical gear that
was still resting on the countertop of Dixie's desk to carry it outside.
Another nurse there briefly smiled a greeting at them.

Johnny stopped in his tracks. "I wonder where Dixie is?"

"It's Sunday, her day off." Roy answered. "She'll be back at
midnight."

"Oh, that's right." Johnny said, snapping his fingers."I forgot that again?"

"You forget a lot of things." Roy told him to his face.

Johnny ignored him, and set down a coffee mug that he had
filled from the standing base station pot. He had it polished off
in seconds.

DeSoto shook off a depressed air. "So, how did your kids run go?"

"A couple of skinned knees and palms,.. among other things. Nothing big."
Johnny sniffed, taking a finishing sip of water from the drinking fountain.

"I take it neither of them transported because I never heard anything 
over the radio from you." Roy said.

 "You'd be right. Although I did almost have a full blown riot between
those two on my hands." Gage smirked.

"Why? It was a bike accident. What would two kids fight about over 
that kind of of situation?"

"A favorite pair of jeans." Johnny leaned into him meaningfully.

"Oh. I got it." Roy said, immediately understanding that idea. "The boy's, huh?"

"Yep."

"Now that WOULD be a matter of pride. The love of a good pair of jeans 
comes first they always say." Roy chuckled as they put away their equipment
out in the parking lot. 

"Yeah, and then it's the love of a good car a few years later." Johnny grinned
lopsidedly.

"That much is true. But what about the love of a first special crush in between 
them right in the middle?" Roy said, getting into the new topic happily.

"Some guys aren't lucky enough to hit that stage, Roy. I have to admit
that I was one of them." Gage admitted, smiling.

"Really? Us guys figured you grew up being a natural born lady killer.
But then we all thought that you must have lost it somewhere along the 
line soon after you hit puberty." Roy grinned.

"Very funny. Nah, I think my problem striking out with the opposite sex stems 
from wanting to deal with the opposite sex so bad in the first place. Once I figure
out how to uncondition myself out of being so overeager about falling in love
with one of them, I think I'll be able to manage them just fine."  Johnny said 
analytically.

"I'm afraid that that's the heart of the problem right there, Johnny. You can't 
manage women. They'll always insist on managing themselves." 
Roy said, grabbing the microphone off the squad's ConvertaCom.

"I know. I know.. I was...speaking hypothetically. I meant 'charm' not 'manage'. I
just picked the wrong word and ...misspoke myself.." Johnny said empathetically.

"I sure hope you did, or you'll be in for years more of sheer disappointment." 
DeSoto shared. "You almost ....have to get married first ....in order to 
understand women a little better." he teased.

"Well that sure makes a whole heck of a lot of sense now, doesn't it?"
Gage scoffed sarcastically, getting frustrated.

That only made Roy's grin larger.
 
DeSoto thumbed the mic. "L.A., this is Squad 51. We're available."

##Squad 51. At 13:33.## came Headquarters' reply.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roy and Johnny sailed into the day room, whistling. Most of their
troubles had already been forgotten. Gage tried to sneak in with
two grocery bags full of something but the smell gave him away.

"Whew.. what's that stench? Is that garlic? I know it's not mustard gas.."
Cap complained.

"Would you just ...Shhh! Or Chet'll hear you. I'm trying to play another joke
on him."

"It won't work. Try putting those garlic strings outside until you're ready
for them. Or he'll smell em for--" Hank broke off when Kelly entered the kitchen,
still brushing his teeth after the nap he had enjoyed.

Chet didn't bat an eye. "Oh, cooking lunch again? Smells good. I'll expect
my plateful soon. After all, we can't have me fainting dead away a second time. 
Thanks, Gage. That was real nice of you." and he walked right back out 
of the room.

The others started chuckling as soon as he was gone.

Marco spoke up, "So, what are you gonna do, Johnny? Not cook 
anything? He'll know a vampire gig's up for sure then."

"How'd you know about that? Roy, did you tell em' about my coming prank?"
Gage said, poking a finger into DeSoto's chest.

"How could I? I was riding in the squad with you for the past two hours."
Roy fired right back. 

Stoker spoke up. "You know, it doesn't take a genius to guess that Chet's 
blood loss incident would set you into teasing him about blood suckers
in general. I say you just wasted your money on all that garlic for nothing."
he said, with a glint in his eye. "That is, if you're going to cook with it."

"Not you, too." Gage pegged at Stoker.

"Hey..." said Mike. "I didn't start anything. I was merely offering a simple
observation based off of Chet's reaction just now." he smiled, holding up
innocent hands in a surrender.

"So,.. what's it gonna be, Gage? Are you going to blow the joke or start grilling 
all of us some hamburgers?" Cap said,rubbing his hands together hungrily. 
"I'm always hungry these days." he grinned at him.

Johnny shot him a dirty look just before the tones went off..

##Station 51. Station 10. Structure fire. 90210 South Beach.
Cross street, Fruitland Park Drive. 90210 South Beach. Cross
street, Fruitland Part Drive. Time out : 13:57.##

Cap got on the acknowledgement instantly, leaving Gage to
throw his two awkward grocery bags full of garlic strings back 
into the refrigerator by himself.  "Station 51, 10-4. KMG 365."

Kelly was already miles ahead of them all, sitting in his seat in
the Ward engine, looking like a king. 

Johnny could see that he was already in full turnout, and wearing a 
Cheshire's smile to match.

Roy, next to him, started laughing. "That was brilliant. Sheer 
brillance. He got you good that time."

"Oh, for pete's sake. Why don't you just shut up and drive already?"
Johnny said sourly.

Roy did. Still grinning like a banshee, he flicked the squad's lights
and sirens on as they left the garage. 

They were off and running, headed north.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  Roy and Joe Early standing in a hallway
             at Rampart.

Photo:  Garlic strings bags.

Photo: Johnny cooking in the oven and not liking it.

Photo:  Chet smiling matter of factly.

Photo: Johnny pissed in the squad.

Photo:  A house fire nearly gutted.
 
**************************************************
From: Jeff Seltun <finiterider@yahoo.com> 
Date: Wed Mar 29, 2006  9:33 pm 
Subject: Turnabout is Fair Play 


The house, when they arrived, was going to be completely 
gutted.

Cap let Stoker pull the engine flanking the exposure
that was upwind in the best way possible. "Ok, pull her up
here." he said to the engineer.

He stepped away from the truck and met with Captain
Stone, filling in from eight's for Station 10. "What do we
got?"

"Single story structure. Most likely electrical. Nobody's 
inside according to the neighbors." said Ben. 

"All right. Where do you want us?" Hank asked.

"How about attacking from the south. There's a grove of
trees back there that won't take too kindly on being
showered with downwind sparks." he said, pointing 
into the sun.

"What about cleanup?" Cap wondered.

"I've got two of my men already cooling the roof to get it
ready for axe hole ventilations. Should be safe to go up
there in a few to finish up."

"Ok, we'll get right on it. Any surprises on property?" 

"Just an old car in the garage and a couple of gas cans.
Those must have blown up before we got here. The garage's
practically skeletal. This must have burned a long time before
somebody even bothered to call it in."

Cap nodded and he started to turn away to start work.

"And Hank?"

"Yeah.."

"All the utilities are turned off."

"Thanks."

Cap began issuing orders as soon as he returned within earshot
of his men. "Stoker.. South side. Lay two inch and a halves for
the trees. 10's crew will set up and charge the hoses. The rest 
of you, poles and axes with your tanks on, and enter inside
only when it's entirely clear. Is that understood?"

The gang nodded and jogged off. But Kelly was stopped with a gloved
grip to the shoulder. "Not you. You're still too blood poor for anything 
fire related. Stay and help Stoker man the panels."

"But Cap.." Chet protested. "This is an easy fire. It won't hurt me at all 
if I just--"

"But Cap, nothing. You broke the rules this morning, so you don't get to
play with the rest of the boys. And that's the end of it." Hank told him.
"Now get going and unscrew that hydrant over there for our wye-line
so we can feed Engine 10 all the water she needs."

Kelly sighed, hung his head and finally went along with the order. He 
didn't do it gracefully and grumbled about it the whole way across the 
street.

Hank couldn't help but smile to himself. ::Ah, one day he'll learn.:: he
thought. ::It's my job to fuss and keep my crew safe. Especially when 
they've acted stupid like he did before coming to work.::

Ten minutes later, the fire was out in the garage and the house
was mostly extinguished but still festering in places, fanned by the 
moderate winds blowing down from the surrounding canyon.

Two of ten's men were working around the chimney with anchor ropes 
while they chopped holes in the shingles to let out dissipating smoke.
Suddenly, there was a cry when one of them fell through a soft spot.

Both fire captains whirled towards the sound and Stone cracked out
orders over his HT. "Get some men up there with a ladder and
all the ropes you can spare. We'll go in after him via the roof.
The front entrance's too unstable and involved to enter through 
that way.."

Cap touched Roy on the shoulder. "Go help them. They don't
have their rescue squad here yet. They may need a paramedic."

DeSoto put on his air mask and quickly joined the effort to rescue
the fallen man.

A voice suddenly burst through all the scene chatter. ##HT 10 to
Engine 10. I....think I'm all right... I...  It's just my shoulder.##

Stone spoke into his radio instantly. "Where are you?"

##I think I'm in the attic.. I've sunlight on me.##

Stone motioned the others on the roof to move to the attic
windows to see if they could see the trapped fireman.

"He's over here!" shouted a grunt to the east. "Towards this end.
He must have crawled over there to get away from the fire."

Roy asked. "Can he reach us through this hole?" pointing to his
venting square still actively spilling out smoke past 
their boots. 

"No. It's a vaulted ceiling!" replied 10's newest man in fear.

"All right. We'll wait for the ladder and winch. It's coming up
right now. " Roy said. "Just calm down. It's ok. He's conscious 
and not in any immediate danger down there. Just relax 
a little. Last thing we need is for you to get yourself into a 
rough spot for not thinking straight." he said, setting a glove
on the man's tank. "Move your left foot. You're on a weak spot."

"I am?" And he jerked it off. "Right. Gotta relax.. Ok. Thanks, 51."
The rookie jiggled his head, still breathing hard through his mask,
worried for his crewmate. "I'll try to pull it together fast..Really, I will."

"I know." smiled Roy through his steaming faceplate. "It sucks
when it's one of your own crewmates who gets injured. You'll find
a way to tone down your reactions whenever it happens eventually.
Don't worry so much about it. It just takes time." said Roy, overseeing
operations down in the hole.

The kid firefighter nodded again, slowing his breathing rate 
by a concerted effort, even more, but his face was still pale. 

He smiled for the first time when he heard the sound of his
station's squad arriving on scene from whereever they had 
been.

Then it happened.

An overhot water heater blew in the house, sending shrapnel
and debris out every window.

A piece of ejected wood hit Kelly on the back of the neck, 
when he wasn't looking, just under the helmet, and he went down.

"Hey! Johnny! Chet's down!" Cap shouted from his place in
the yard.

"What happened?!"

"Debris hit him in the back of the head!" Stone added.

"I got him.." Gage said, peeling off his scba gear.

Squad 10 had seen Chet fall and they skidded to a halt right
next to him along the curb. They began snatching out all
their gear.

Johnny rolled Chet onto his back, while supporting his head
and neck in a line. He bent down low to check for breathing and
he found it. "He was knocked out." he told the arriving paramedics.

"We know. We saw him drop right after that plank hit him."
said one of them.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the roof, Roy was distracted by the incident on the ground
and almost stepped off the edge of the roof. He felt a strong
hand grab him by the arm as it hauled him back safely on top.

The rookie next to him grinned. "Like you told me. It really 
sucks when a Code I's one of yours." he grinned. 

"Yeah.. Thanks." DeSoto said. And then he didn't look Chet's
way again.

Ten's man was almost free. His hurt shoulder had been bound and he
was already waist belted for the trip up the pit ladder.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny started acting strangely. "Just leave your gear out for me.
I can handle him from here."

"Not by yourself, man. No one can long board anybody without help.
Besides, we're grateful that your partner's up there helping get
one of OUR guys out." said paramedic Mahoney. "I'll just sweep
him for you and--" he broke off when he got Chet's shirt unbuttoned.
He gaped. "What are these?" he asked, pointing to the EKG pads
that were already in place on Kelly's chest.

"Uh,..combination pads?" Johnny offered lamely.

"Now I know you didn't have time to put some of ours on because
our defibrillator case is still latched shut."

Johnny dug for a reply. Finally, he said the first thing that came to mind.
"Uh,.. Chet here. You see, he's the kind of guy who likes to be prepared
for any contingency..heh.." he shrugged unconvincingly. "He's sort of a 
Craig Brice type if you know what I mean."

Mahoney cocked his head, vaguely disturbed. "He patches himself
every morning just in case he gets hurt later on? That's a little 
weird...don't you think?"

Mahoney's partner, slipping an oral airway into Chet's mouth, started
chuckling under his breath as he got Kelly on some oxygen and into a 
C-collar.

Gage turned five shades of red. "Not really.. I..."

"And how do you explain these?" Mahoney glared, stabbing a finger down
at the bruised needle marks Chet still had on both of his arms.

Johnny qualmed. Last thing he wanted was Cap getting in trouble for letting
a man work the same day after giving blood. It was a potentially serious
fire department policy violation for him. "Chet. He.. volunteered to be stuck 
today. Just for practice."

"Uh, huh.."said the no bones Mahoney in a tell-me-another-one-I-don't-know
tone of voice. 

"Our station doesn't have a manikin that can do that yet." Gage concluded
truthfully. 

"You won't mind if I draw a little blood for the hospital to check, do you?"

That got Johnny mad. ::Chet's not an addict!:: his mind raged."Go right ahead.
He's as clean as they come, man." he said mildly on the outside.

"Ok. I think I will.." and his eyes narrowed at Gage as he felt for Chet's carotid in
a quality check without looking down. "I trust you. We're both paramedics
after all, right? But that doesn't mean I trust him." said Mahoney, throwing a look 
down at the comatosed Chet. "Can you get a set of vital signs for us while we 
sweep the rest of his body for other injuries?"

"Sure thing. I'll get right on it.." Gage said through lax lips. ::Cap. 
You owe me one. Big time. :: he thought, thinking of Hank. ::Perhaps even
a very large favor. Like cancelling a practical joke wagering war. Yeah,
that'll do just fine. Thanks, Chet, for getting beaned on today of all days.
Because soon, nobody will be smiling bigger than I'll be smiling when 
you find out that all the joke bets are permanently off.::

Roy came by, helping the wounded man walk, with another fireman,
to 51's rescue squad's rear bumper. "How's he doing?"

"Fine. But he won't be feeling so hot later on tonight." Johnny grinned.
"It sure won't be because of a splitting headache I can tell you."

Roy's eyebrows rose. "This oughta be good. Tell me later." he
said moving away with his patient.

"Oh, I will. Believe me. You'll be the first one to know, Roy." Johnny 
chuckled.

Mahoney and his partner were so bugged by Johnny's behavior
that both of them almost hit their heads on their engine's ladder for not
looking when they stood up to flag down the Mayfair and both captains
to offer up a status report.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Photos: None.
 

**************************************************
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Thu Mar 30, 2006  2:26 pm 
Subject: Let The River Run... 


Johnny Gage got excited from moment one after he arrived and 
found himself overlooking the tawny banks of the aquamarine 
colored Kern River. ::Gold's under there. And soon, I'm going to 
get to mine it out of the streambed myself with my own two hands.:: 

He had driven almost two hundred miles into the foothills where the 
old 49'ers used to camp and mine with their mules, pans, pick axes 
and shovels over a hundred years ago.

Jim Hanes, the rugged firefighter from Station 110 and his wife
Pamela, waved when they saw Johnny's rover pull up to their campsite.

One of their crew was taking a break from Jim's small underwater 
gold mining operation and that had formed the basis of the invite Gage
had received from Jim to fill in for him, two weeks ago.

"Hiya, Johnny. How's business at 51's doing? Is she still the number 
one station in the county for call volumes?" he laughed hugely.

"Not this month. 86's beat us out by eleven runs. But we'll catch em
again next month and probably stay there for the rest of the summer."
Gage said, shaking Jim's hand and then the hand of Pam, Jim's petite 
wife. He was amazed at  how strong her grip was and he remarked about 
it. 

"Oh, sorry. That's from hundreds of hours manning the sluice box  
and the suction hose support booms on the Pro-Mack as a dredge
tender." she grinned, brushing away the light brown hair that was
covering her freckles. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength."
she murmured shyly.

"And that's why I married her." said Jim, giving her an affectionate 
squeeze. "Always so modest."

Gage laughed along with them. Then he asked. "Uh, where can I
leave my tent and sleeping bag and the rest of my stuff? I brought
along extra food, water, raingear, a CB radio, and a first aid pack."

"What? Are you worried that we can't take care of ya?" Jim guffawed,
slapping the much slenderer Johnny on the back with a big beefy
hand, making him catch himself to avoid falling.

"No, I'm just not so sure that I can keep my own skin intact while
learning all of this awesome gold digger's stuff." Johnny said 
enthusiastically."What do I have to do to start?"

"Not much." Pam smiled. "We'll explain everything clearly...Before
we do." she said, looking for all the world like a 49'er in her red plaid
jacket and battered tan miner's floppy hat.

Twenty minutes later, Johnny was led down into a tiny rainwashed
gulley to the creek, where rushing white water spun itself into 
a surprising roar. Gage's face fell quickly into doubt when they walked
by the sign that Roy had mentioned about drowning statistics in
the region. All he had to do was look at the water to feel it.
"We're going to be dive mining under that?" he asked.

"Sure.." Pam said. "It's not as bad as it looks. The water out
there to the hardpack streambed is only about eight feet deep.
And we always have a weight belt to keep us down while we dig
out the sample holes. But the most effective way to maintain your 
position in fast water is to streamline your body properly, with your 
head and chest close to the river-bottom and your rear end slightly 
elevated. This posture allows the water-flow to push you down, toward 
the bottom, so you can get a better footing."

"Sounds complicated." Gage said, trying to smile.

"It's all about sheer common sense, Johnny." Jim said seriously. "And
we've been coming to this spot for, what would you say, Pam, nigh on six
years? We know the stream bed like the back of our hands sometimes.
And I'll tell you something else, Gage, that's a deep, dark secret that I want
you to spread to no one.." Hanes warned with a held up beefy finger. He 
leaned in confidentially to Gage, grasping his shoulder. "Pam and I have 
known for quite some time, that pay streaks, often very rich pay streaks, exist 
in these faster waters. Because dredging rapids is more difficult, others are less 
likely to have mined there before you, including those rascally old timers of 
yesteryear. For this reason, fast water stretches like this little creek are actually 
modern day virgin gold territories just aching to be found. And we did it!"

"Really?" said Johnny, his eyes brightening.

"Just look at these beauties. The product of last summer..." and he reached
into his jacket, pulling out a cloth sack full of nuggets. Pam, giggling, went
to a pack and got out a miner's pan. She knelt by the creek to moisten its
surface. Then she brought it to Jim, who tipped out the sack, spilling gold
out liberally so Johnny could touch it.

"Holy cow..." Gage gasped, picking up one of the gold rocks.

"And we also get placer gold by panning the leftovers." Pam told him.

"Placer gold?" Johnny asked.

Jim shifted his weight to another boot. "Gold found in streambeds is called that. 
Found in flake form, usually about the size of flattened grains of rice and smaller. 
Some deposits carry a larger amount of such flakes and fine gold. Other deposits 
carry substantial amounts of larger pieces and nuggets like the ones we're
showing ya."
  
"You got all of these here?" 

"Yep." said Pam, her eyes twinkling.

"With that dredge machine you told me about over the phone?"

"Yep. And you're gonna get a few days' share of whatever we find as
payment for helping us out of a tough spot, with us being one man short." said
Hanes. "Everyone’s gold income depends directly upon how much 
material we can get sucked up by our main hose. It's not that easy,
but it'll be worthwhile in the end." he promised.
 
"Well, Jim, I...I.. really don't know what to say.."

"Say nothing. Just learn. And don't worry. It's hard work but we promise
we'll try to make it fun for you."
 
Jim hurried along the trail, dropping their lunch and safety
and first aid packs on a section of well trampled beach on a
white sand bar that had piles of tilings from previous expeditions
mounded up into small hills around them. "And there she is, Johnny.
The Sierra Madre.. aka the Pro Mack 2000, streamlined with a lot
of floatation keeping the floats as narrow as possible."

"Wow, is she a beauty! But those narrow pontoons, why is that?"
Johnny asked.

Jim warmed to the subject. "Well, it's because we're working in white water
rapids. One of the main considerations when adding flotation to a creek 
dredge is to avoid increasing the drag of it against the current because it 
puts more strain on your dredge, frame, tie-off lines, and diver airhoses.
We like to use inflated tire inner tubes, PVC pipe material, and styrofoam.
They work the best. 
"When you are set up with the dredge positioned off to the side in some pocket 
of slower water, your suction hoses will be running perpendicular, at least to 
some degree, to the flow of the fast water. That much hose exposed broadside 
to the current creates enormous drag, which can cause the suction hose... and 
our air hoses to kink at the points where they connect to any kind of machinery 
or inside of an air hose loop curled by the water."

"Sounds like a continual problem, sort of like keeping a charged firehose
flowing when you're traversing up a stairwell." Johnny thought out loud.

"The principle's exactly the same." smiled Jim. "Now breathing air hose kinks,
you can avoid by not turning around in any circles while working under the 
dredge. And any silt suction hose kinks can be avoided by rigging one or 
two extra ropes down from your main tieoff line that's holding the dredge in 
place in the creek. Those ropes you see out there allow the suction hose 
to be flexed back by the current, but not to any critical kinking point. 
You see, it's the hose kinks that cause plug ups which are rocks that jam in the 
dredge’s suction-hose or powerjet. This bend in the suction hose is what allows 
you the movement to expand the size of your gold dredging hole."

"Using the boom is nice." said Pam. "Because then you can move the entire 
dredge and suction hose harness as a unit, when you take the equipment 
forward downstream as your dredge hole progresses farther along."

"Sort of like a stokes and pulley system on the side of a building."

"Right again, Gage. You're catching on fast." laughed Jim.

"So the Pro Mack essentially sucks up streambed material : rocks, sand, 
gravel, silt, ..and gold.." Johnny's eyes bugged out. "and passes it up through 
that main suction hose, and runs it across the recovery system floating at the 
surface?" 

"Yep. Pieces of gold, which are nineteen times heavier than the water
and six times heavier than rocks, are separated from the other streambed 
materials and trapped over the conveyor riffles, as the gravel and other 
material wash through the recovery system and then we just wash the 
leftovers back into the stream." said Pam. "The whole process is
completely nonpolluting."

"What about the silting effects?"

"Storms and floods do the same thing and what's one tiny little dredger
to compare to the power of all that?" Pam teased.

"Point taken. How do you provide breathing room for the divers? Us?" 
he wondered, tapping himself on the chest, chuckling.

"Air for breathing underwater is generated by an air compressor, and 
passed down through an air line and then through a mouth regulator, similar 
to the SCBA we use in fires, Johnny." said Jim.

"So we aren't going to be that deep. I don't relish the idea of getting the
bends way out here in the middle of nowhere."

"It'll never happen." Pam reassured him. "We dredge only in ten feet of water 
or less and any rocks too large to pass through the suction nozzle are moved 
out of the way by hand."

"Couldn't you use a cutter head like they use out at the marina for digging out
holes?" Gage asked.

"A cutter-head's rotating series of hardened-steel blades that are designed to 
cut into sand, clay or classified gravel and will just get bogged down or damaged.  
It doesn't have the capability to deal with hard-packed streambeds which are 
made up of oversized rocks and huge boulders. Also, any blades would be
continuously up against rocks that must be moved out of the way by divers.
And we don't like those risks. It would be too dangerous to put divers into
a hole in fast water where a cutter-head is operating."

"What kinds of other problems to you come up against when you're digging
under the creek?" 

"Two things." Pam exclaimed. "Those rock plug ups and people who have
a tendency to nitpick."

Johnny laughed. "Nitpick? Underwater? No one can talk down there."

Jim chortled. "It's a new definition that us gold diggers have coined. It means
anyone who keeps dredging around and around rocks which are locked in 
place by other rocks that need to be freed up first by hand."

"So, what's my job gonna be this weekend?" Johnny asked.

"One of two jobs, your choice." said Jim. "The nozzle operator is 
responsible for getting as much material up the suction hose as possible
and it's he who directs how the dredge hole is being taken apart. The second
job is being just a rock person who has the responsibility to help the nozzle 
operator by removing those rocks that are immediately in the way of production
by using prybars, and brunt force."

"That sounds like me. No different than wrestling with a fire hose." he
said with humor.

"As we move our hole forward, we dredge layers or top cuts off the front of 
the hole, while we try to leave a taper ramp behind us to prevent rocks from 
rolling back in and on top on us. You as a rock person will be responsible
for deciding which rocks and boulders could potentially roll in and remove 
'em before they have a chance to do so."

"Sounds simple enough. I could handle that."

"Smart man, being the nozzleman's awful at times. And there
are things you gotta do when you take a lunch break or knock off for the day.
The most annoying one is remembering to anchor your suction hose and nozzle 
by either piling rocks on top of it or tying it to a large rock in the bottom of the 
dredge hole. It's no fun to start a production dive by having to work against the 
current to get your suction hose back into your dredge hole, because the fast 
water blew it out after your last dive."

"Don't have to work with that kind of effect at the station. Wind's never
powerful enough to move hoses around."

"Are we lucky that way? Heh." Jim guffawed. "But I beg to differ.
Hanging hose in the drying tower when the wind's making them
sway, really sucks!"

"That's when you con someone else into doing that chore for ya."
Gage said empathetically, making Pam laugh. "But being down a hole 
like that in such fast water... Is it truly safe?"

"No. But then again, is anything guaranteed one hundred percent safe?
All right. I'll tell you about the risks you'll be running. One of the most 
serious dangers to a dredger is the possibility of being pinned to the 
bottom by a heavy rock or boulder. All of the oversized rocks that can’t 
be sucked through the dredge nozzle must be moved out of the hole by 
hand or with the use of winching equipment. When undercutting the streambed, 
or taking apart the dredge hole, there is the possibility of larger rocks rolling in 
on top of you. This possibility increases when you are working in turbulent, fast 
water. The erratic changes in the pressure that the water exerts on the exposed 
streambed material, inside and around the dredge hole, can cause boulders to 
loosen up and roll into the hole. Generally,  rapids make you begin creating 
your dredge hole as soon as you can dig one out. The hole will eventually 
help anchor you in place because the water is much calmer inside of it. "

"So the larger you dredge the hole, the easier it gets." Gage surmised.

"Yes." Pam said happily. "My, Jim, you are right, he is a fast learner."

Together, Jim and Johnny said the same thing. "Firefighters have to be."
Then they shared a macho high five, just to tease her.
 
"How long do you work at a time during any one session?"
Gage asked Jim.

"Oh, in two or three hour dives at a time. We rest up in between for two
hours to get over the fatigue from the cold and battling the current."

"So, your man who's not here, is usually your rock person?"

"Yeah, and he's great at it, too. We use hand signals to communicate.
When I give him the plug-up signal, he always races to the surface to 
quickly clear the obstruction in the suction hose. He's funny that way,
always swimming around pell mell with an exaggerated sense of urgency.
Even when he's just returning to the hole when the plug-up's free. 
Sometimes, he even grabs the pry bar and start breaking rocks free for me
just one rock ahead of the nozzle tip so the water doesn't cloud up with
silt, that would block our view." Hanes told him.

"Show me those signals." Johnny said, rubbing his chin carefully.

"Ok, this one means.. there's a plug up in the suction hose, this one means
there's one in the power jet, and this one means that we're moving the
dredges forward to the next spot." Pam said.

Johnny learned them quickly and added one of his own. "How about
this one? It is ever used?" and he wrapped his hands around his throat
in a universal 'I'm choking' grip.

"We don't have to rehearse that one. It just happens." laughed Jim. "Here,
let me show you how to pop off a weight belt in case that happens to
any of us while we're working." And Hanes showed him. "See? It's
just like a parachute release handle. Right at the chest. You may 
also find that it is better to first remove your work glove before 
trying to release your buckle in an emergency."

"Heh. That's a laugh. I usually get into the biggest trouble for taking
my gloves off during an operation. So,..if you're the nozzle man, and 
I'm the rock person, what will Pam be doing?" Johnny asked, pointing 
at her as she offered him some hot chocolate out of a thermos. "Thanks. 
It is chillier up here than back at home."
  
"Oh, I'll be the dredge tender up top. It'll be my job to monitor the water volume 
flowing through the sluice box. If it visibly slows down, I'll be suspecting a plug-up 
and then I'll look for it and clear it. Also, I'll be paying close attention to where
you dredgers are working at all times in all this fast water. Do, always, keep an 
eye on Jim while dredging down there. When we dive, we make sure we keep 
track of each other and everybody else on the team. If you need to leave 
the dredge hole or go to the surface for some reason, always let someone know 
you're going." she said seriously.

Jim added more. "If you or I suddenly disappear, Pam will immediately go 
looking for a body."

Johnny nodded, accepting that bit of reality well.

"A person in serious trouble underwater only has about thirty seconds to get it 
together. That isn't much time at all." Pam told him.

"There is no margin for error." Gage agreed. "You are either breathing air or 
you're not." Then he began to mince uncomfortably about the idea of diving 
and breathing through a very thin hose underneath raging rapids.

Jim noticed. "It's not that bad. I've been doing this for so long in water
moving so fast..." he tried to soothe. Then he went a different track,
"Sometimes, air bubbles created by the turbulence eliminate ALL
my visibility. It's funny, Gage. It feels exactly like a night fire in thick 
smoke after you're done sweeping an apartment on your hands and
knees. After diving in really turbulent water, my equilibrium goes 
and I get so disoriented I can hardly stand up without weaving when I 
crawl out of the water."

"And that's when I break out the oxygen tank." 
Pam touched Johnny on the arm, to get his attention after the laughing
was over. "One of the main concerns when dredging in fast water is having 
your mask and/or regulator swept or knocked off your face. This will cause
you to panic, especially when it happens for the first time. The masks we use
are larger than oceanic ones with substantially more surface area to
encompass the mouth regulator to reduce hose tugging on the head. 
Know that it will be likely to get accidentally dislodged from your face. 
This can happen when the mask is bumped by someone, or a rock, or 
when turbulent water catches it, especially from the side."  
 
"I'll be careful. I'm used to air bottles and heat/cold suction effects
from working a fire." But Gage was not soothed. "I have to ask this.
What about finding yourself suddenly swept down stream?"

They all chuckled. "Everybody asks that question." Hanes smiled.
"Contrary to what many people believe, being swept down river by 
the current is not the major concern. This is a normal happening in 
fast water dredging. As long as you have your mask clear and your 
regulator in your mouth, being swept down river by the current is generally 
no big deal. That is, of course, unless you are dredging directly 
above a set of falls or extremely fast water." he teased.
"In most cases, the fast water you are in is not a steady flow of current. 
It is usually turbulent, varying in direction and intensity. A swirl can hit you 
from the side and knock you off balance. Or, sometimes it can even hit 
you from underneath and lift you out of the dredge hole and into the faster 
flow. If you get swept down river in fast water, you usually just need to grab 
hold of the river bottom and work your way over to the slower water, nearer the 
bank. This movement is best done by continuing to face upstream, into the 
current, while you point your head and upper body towards the river-bottom. 
That posture will drive you to the bottom where you can get a handhold on 
rocks or cobbles to anchor yourself down. Then, you can work your way 
upstream, through the more slack current near the bank, and back out to your 
worksite again. After three or four times getting caught, it'll all become
pretty much routine." shared Jim. 
 
Pam had more to add, "By the way, your air line will also be your direct 
connection to the dredge and to safety. When you connect your air line 
to the dredge, wrap it around the dredge frame several times before attaching
yourself to the air fitting on the dredge. Then you can use your air line to pull 
yourself to the dredge in an emergency."

"That's nice to know. But what about using regular ropes?"

"Ropes are unreliable underwater around divers. You'll find your airline, however
is actually an extension of yourself. Please, please, Johnny, especially in fast 
water, it is very important that you not allow your air line to tangle around parts 
of the dredge, underwater rocks, or around Jim's airline in the dredge hole."

"And always be sure to get all the loops out of your air line before starting 
your dive. Otherwise, the current can pull these loops into kinks, which can 
immediately cut off your air supply." added Jim. 

"Ever been in a cave-in out there?" Johnny asked, casting his head toward
the beautiful, fast blue water creek.

"Nope. When you dredge a hole down through loose streambed material, it will
keep sliding in on you. But when you finally break through to the hard-pack, 
the streambed will generally hold up the wall surrounding the hole. In fact, many 
of the old-time operations a hundred years ago tunneled underneath hard-pack. 
This was called drift mining. Sometimes they even tunneled directly under active 
rivers!" Jim shouted.

"Even in 1846? That's incredible." Johnny exclaimed.

"They were daring back then. That's why it's so fun coming up with ways
of doing what they did that isn't so gosh darned dangerous." Pam laughed.

"So,..." sighed Johnny expansively. "Is it all worth it? I mean. How much
gold is possibly left in these hills? They were picked over with a fine
toothed comb and then microscoped to death as far as I know."

"They were. But gold depositing is ever replenishing, Johnny. And I'll
explain to you how it works." said Jim. "With the kind of dredging
we have now with machines like the Sierra Madre, gold doesn't have 
to be as concentrated as it once was to be lucrative because we can
move hundreds of times more material than any 49'er ever could with
his pick and axe." 

"So how does it work, Jim?" Gage asked.

"Because of its enormous weight, gold tends to follow a certain path of its 
own when being washed down a waterway, and will get hung up in various 
common locations where the water force lets up enough to drop gold. One 
example is the inside of a bend where a stream makes a turn. Another example 
is at the lower end of a section of white water. Gold will form pay streaks in 
areas such as this, where the water slows down on a large scale during large 
flood storms. Generally, a winter storm, even a large winter storm, will not 
create enough turbulence and force in a river, creek or stream to redeposit 
the compacted streambeds that are already in place along the bottom. 
Flood storms of the magnitude to redeposit streambeds do not occur often.

Pam placed laced fingers in front of her mouth, getting excited about
gold mining all over again. "We believe that the last time that a substantial 
amount of hard packed streambed was formed on this creek was during the 
1964 flood."

"Hey! I remember that." said Johnny, snapping his fingers together. "It rained
for days on the reservation when I was ten years old and all of the low
country was flooded out for an entire month."

Jim nodded in agreement. "I remember it very well, too."
"In most of the channel along the Kern, from which this creek runs, 
the 1964 flood layer was laid down on top of a much older, harder packed, 
virgin streambed that formed perhaps thousands of years ago. So, it takes 
a major flood storm to move and lay down a hard packed streambed. 
And, it takes a super major flood storm to create enough force and turbulence 
in a river to break up ancient streambeds and redeposit them as newer 
hard packed streambeds along the course of the waterway. This happens 
only very rarely.The reason that hard pack is important to a prospector is 
because gold nearly always concentrates at the bottom of hard packed, flood 
layers. At some point during the storm, gold becomes trapped out of the 
turbulent flow by dropping into irregularities, cracks and holes that are present 
along the surface over which it is traveling and it will always be beneath 
a hardpack. You can find the signs because most of the flat rocks will be
lying horizontally and slightly tipped downward in the direction of the current.
If gold traveled in that part of the waterway, we find it concentrated at the bottom 
of the hard pack, sitting on top of the tailings. Underneath, we find loose cobbles 
with sand and silt between them. These usually go all the way to bedrock. We find 
very little gold on bedrock because it has already been mined. Because of 
this, we have found the best means of production is to dredge the hole down a 
layer at a time. This is the top cut we mentioned earlier. If you take down a broad 
horizontal area of the streambed together, you uncover a whole strata of rocks which 
are interconnected like a puzzle. Then, you can see which rocks must be removed 
first in order to free the others more easily."

"Sounds like doing it that way would be far safer, too." Gage guessed.

"It is. But, the only time I intentionally slow things down is when I am uncovering 
the gold. I have to keep an eye on that to follow the pay streak. If the streak 
is good, I also point out the gold to my rock person as I uncover it. Now that," 
said Jim, grinning gape tooth wide. "..is very fun. Everyone deserves the boost 
because gold eventually gets spent..."

"And the memories last forever.." sighed Pam. 

"I'll bet." said Johnny.

"Now here's the quirky part.." Jim chuckled. "Areas where the 
water runs fast during low water periods are likely to be drop zones for 
gold during high water. This explains why you can often find pay streaks 
under rapids when the river is flowing at low water levels. It also explains 
why you seldom find pay streaks within the first slow water area below a 
set of rapids when the river is running low. At first, this may seem 
contradictory to the general belief that high grade gold deposits form in 
areas of the waterway where the water slows down after a stretch of rapids. 
Just keep in mind that pay streaks are created during major floods."

Johnny's eyes lit up in discovery. "And during a major flood, a sudden 
dropoff edge in the bedrock can cause a very good gold trap, like the riffles 
in a sluice box, but on a very large scale!"

Pam put her chin on her hand, sighing. "You know, I've been married to
Jim for fourteen years, been mining for six and I still don't get how
that effect works.."

Jim explained it once again. "Here, let me put a firefighter twist on things,
Pam, because you sure know a heck of a lot about me that way
already." he teased.

"Oh, you.." she said, slapping his arm affectionately.

Hanes flinched good naturedly and went on. "Pam, if you turn on a fire 
hose at slow speed, the fastest water area is found directly where the water 
flows out of the hose. Right?"

"Yeah, I can see that...."

"Now, here's the analogy,..when you turn the water pressure up, momentum 
forces the water farther out. This condition occurs within the river during 
a major flooding, another reason why you are likely to find gold in fast water.
It's pushed farther out from the rock which formed it."

"Oh, I see it now.. Duh." Pam laughed. 

"And if you still want to be traditional, you can get placer gold
into your pan from the shallows by sifting through loose streambed material. 
Paystreaks can happen like that, but they're rare, and almost always the result 
of winter storms, and the related run off, eroding away the hardpack streambed 
cut in along the bank. It washes the gold down 
into the waterway to rest with the loose material,.." he said marching
his finger from the nearby hilltop, down to the shore and finally
to the waterline.." right on top of your most favorite sand bar, love."

"Aww,," sighed Pam, kissing Jim. "He's so sweet, isn't he?"
 
Blushing, Johnny stood up off of his creek rock seat.
"Ooo, my head's hurting from all of this stuff. Can we eat first
before we go dive prospecting?"

"Sure, I'll go get dinner ready." said Pam.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

It was one day later at the creek camp and it was high noon.

Johnny had survived his initiation period and was finally broken
in well as a full fledged dredging rock person. He no longer
minded the churning rapids roaring about his ears. 

In fact, the water in that part of the creek was so swift that he and Jim
both were swept out of the dredge hole time after time after time.

And Pam took each "accident" when it occurred, like a trooper, 
running along the bank with a poolside sheperd's hook, with her
long sandy hair flying, to snatch them back onto shore with it 
whenever it happened. After the fifth time, Pam started to get
worried. "Jim, shouldn't we call it a day? I think the creek's
lowering, the water's definitely getting faster as time goes by."

"Why stop, Pam? The area downstream only gets deeper. We
can't get crushed against rocks that aren't there, honey. We'll
be fine. Besides, Johnny and I have found a really good paystreak
that we're afraid may get buried if we slow down for even a minute."

"I don't like it, Jim. I don't think it's safe enough any more to 
go on." she said, frowning and biting her lip.

Jim smiled from where he stood in the shallow water, up to
his waist. "Tell you what, ten minutes more, and we're done.
Ok? Johnny has to go back home tonight anyway and I think
we've found enough gold to make the trip worth his while. So
yeah, I'll halt operations then. Does that satisfy you now?"

"No. But I know I can't stop you. Go have fun." she smiled.

"That's my girl." he said, putting his airhose regular and mask
back onto his face.

Johnny was moving a particularly stubborn watermelon sized
rock when it happened. Jim was uplifted out of the hole by 
an errant welling of creek current and he was carried away
so fast, that he didn't have time to untangle himself from his air line 
before he reached the end of it.  And the air line got
tangled around his neck. Hanes lost what breath he had in his
lungs in seconds.

There he was, flopping around in the current, like a flag snapping 
in a stiff breeze, tethered by the air line around his neck and he
started struggling, unsuccessfully, to regain his footing in three 
feet of water. But the flow of rushing rapids proved to be too strong.

His mask was ripped away, leaving him blind. But his teeth
clenched down on his regulator causing a kink about five feet
above his head. His air supply was abruptly cut off.

Above, floating on the dredge, belly down, Pam screamed.
"Johnny!"
 
Gage got a funny feeling down where he was and he
turned towards the front of the hole, looking for Jim.

All he found was empty space. 

Quickly, he dropped his weight belt and hung onto the suction
hose, riding it like a long sinuous snake, until he drifted down
stream towards where he could see Jim fighting to free himself.

He got there and released Jim's weight belt with a powerful tug.
He grabbed onto Jim, gripping him with both legs as he tried to
pull the hose from around Jim's throat. Jim gave him the choking
signal weakily.  Thinking fast, Johnny grabbed a hold of Jim's air
hose and pulled it in towards the both of them and then he let it 
go. The pressure was temporarily removed from Jim's hose kink
and he watched as Hanes received a hard won breath of air and
the expression on his face fell from utter panic into one of 
immediate relief.

Gage did this several times to get Jim more awake,
before he reached to the surface to get a knife from Pam. 

By the time he had sliced the hose free, Jim was unconscious
and limp.

Struggling, Johnny and Pam used one of the dredge's floats to
bear up his body to the surface and together, they rode the creek
down to calm water, hanging onto him.

Gage got Hanes to shore and got on his head in a listening check.
"Go get the medical gear..." he told Pam.

Sobbing, she ran to get it.

Jim wasn't breathing anymore. Johnny tried to get a first breath in
but it didn't work. Repositioning Jim's head, Johnny tried again.
"Come on, Jim. You couldn't have gotten that much water inside.
I didn't see your mouth open."

Then it dawned on him. Jim was suffering laryngospasms.
Straddling Jim's stomach, Gage started delivering a series of
firm but slow abdominal thrusts to encourage his windpipe
to open up again.

A rush of air gushed out after the fifth one. Johnny moved back
to Jim's head and tipped up his chin high. Then he started
mouth to mouth after pinching his nose. This time, he was rewarded
with a chest rise.

A quick check showed that Jim still had a slow heartbeat in spite
of his bluish color.

Pam clattered back with the small resuscitator case, Johnny's 
first aid pack and his portable CB radio. "Is he ok? Oh, Jim!"

Gage got out a demand valve and began using it without stopping
to put in an airway first. Soon, the rich flow returned a pink shade
to Jim's face and hands. "He's got a pulse. I think he just had
some throat spasming. I'm not hearing any water in his chest at all.
If that's the case he should be waking up any time now. He wasn't
apneic for very long. Maybe two minutes at the most. This oxygen
should turn him around fairly fast."

"Thank G*d. Jim is so afraid of water drowning. He has nightmares 
about it sometimes." she shivered, grabbing the radio to call for
help from the nearby ranger station. "Jim.. come on, wake up
for Johnny. You're out of the creek.." she sobbed.

Jim stirred under the ventilations seconds later and started
coughing. Gage moved the mask away. "Jim, how are you
doing now? You're out of the water...."

Hanes sucked in a huge tortured breath of air with a pained
expression on his face and then he began to laugh out loud
and long. "Do I still have it..?" he crowed, choking
on saliva and some sand, crying.

Still dripping, Johnny sat him up off of the ground, supporting 
Hanes from behind so that his breathing came easier.
"What the h*ll are you talking about? Jim, you almost died on us."
he said, holding the oxygen mask back over his face.

For an answer, Jim opened up one clenched fist and
showed them what was lying there.

Johnny and Pam almost had breathing troubles themselves
as their disbelieving eyes took in the glinting fire of pure gold.

It was a solid high grade nugget the size of an apple.

Jim Hanes face split into the greatest look of joy Gage had
ever seen. "Guys, I've found the motherlode!!" 

Then he fainted into Johnny's arms, falling into an utterly
exhausted sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Monday, at Station 51.

Chet Kelly sat in one of the kitchen chairs, shaking his head in
disbelief. "Johnny, you mean to tell me that after only two days
working on a mining dredge, about which you know practically
nothing, that you managed to break even on all costs of operation
for absolutely everybody?"

"Yep." smiled Gage, biting into a red apple and relishing every
moment of it. 

No one could figure out why he was studying a simple piece of fruit 
so hard and for so long with such a ridiculous smile plastered
onto his face.

"Ok, so you can't tell me where you went, and you can't tell
me exactly how much you found, what can you tell me?" Kelly
asked in exasperation.

"I'll give you a little hint, Chet. A top of the line, three inch hose diameter
gold dredge, and the miscellaneous gear needed to run a small 
dredging operation, for an entire summer, can be obtained for just under 
$5,000. "

"Yeah, so?" Chet said. "$5,000 split four ways still isn't very much."

"I'm not finished yet.." said Gage holding up a finger to shush him.
"Jim and Pam have been running that operation for six YEARS.
Now do the math.." 

Stoker was the fastest. "No way, Gage.. No w--"

"Yep. Split four ways. And I got a bonus, too." he grinned.
"On my last day as a rock person, behind Jim, I found
this, just lying at my feet under the water." 

Johnny reached into his uniform pocket and drew out a
marble sized water roughened blue star sapphire. 
He held it up like a prized jeweler doing an appraisal. 
"How do you like them apples?" he grinned.

"Is that real?" Cap said, getting up out of his rocker chair.

"Yep. I'm gonna be a really rich man for a good long while." 
smirked Gage at the rest of them.

"I don't believe it.." Chet whispered, his eyes filming over
and mouth falling slack. "I never knew that creeks in
California still give up rare and precious gemstones.."
 
 Johnny started laughing gently at them all..
"Well, that just goes to show ya, Chet, my man, that all that 
glitters..." and he trailed his voice off, laughing with sheer 
celebratory delight as he walked proudly away, tossing his
gemstone up into the air and catching it again. It glinted
prettily blue in the light.

"...ain't gold." Chet finished, his eyes still bugging out. Then
Kelly smiled a bucktooth sort of smile, mumbling as he sat back
down on the couch to go play with Henry and his well mauled tennis
ball some more... "Man, I tell ya, Roy. That Gage,..he's something 
else somedays, ain't he? Wow.." he exclaimed, blowing through
his lips in admiration.

"He sure is, Chet,.." DeSoto smiled gently. "He sure is.."


FIN

Episode Thirty One, All That Glitters
Season Five, Emergency Theater Live

---------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  Johnny frowning outside.

Photo: Underwater gold dredgers in a creek.

Photo:  A woman panning gold.

Photo: Gold nuggets in a pan.

Photo:  Divers hose suctioning a hardpack streambed.

Photo:  Closeup of underwater gold getting sucked up by a hose.

Photo: A diver in trouble, hose tangle.

Photo:  A diver getting swept downstream.

Photo:  Johnny swimming with a drowning victim

Photo: A large museum quality gold nugget.

Photo:  A hand holding up a raw gem into the sun.

Photo:  The gang standing over the couch.

Photo:  Johnny grinning like a banshee in the kitchen.

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