
This is a text version of the original still airing imaged, music soundtracked story.

Emergency Theater Live, Episode

.   Season - Episode  
 
Short summary-
Vacation off the mainland proves work never ends for
the gang of 51's. Mike Stoker faces the scare of his life.

****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.

 


 

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.




Long Summary-
The gang suffers under a night of no calls. They mull over the energy
crisis and the nitpicking starts in earnest between Chet and Johnny. 
Johnny hits on the idea of going to Catalina Island. Station 51 responds
to a man with an altered level of consciousness at the supermarket.
They find a druggie and Stoker soon finds his gun pointed at him in
an isolated moment. After the crisis is over, Stoker blacks out and is
treated for shock. Detective Ron Crockett shows up at the station 
to get more details about the weapon drawn incident and ruffles a few 
feathers. Roy meets his son Chris and his own father Ian on the island, 
who're there to do some cessna flying. Chet pulls a disappearing cliff 
diving act as a joke on Stoker. Chris gets a lesson on Catalina aviation 
from his grandfather, Ian DeSoto. Kelly goes gliding. Marco follows,
tandem strapped to his guide, Kip, in his own glider. A wind gust flips 
Marco and Kip and they crash into a tree. Cap grows alarmed at the lack 
of radio from Marco and Chet mounts an airborne search.  Kelly spots the 
downed glider and radios camp about it, then he goes in for a landing. 
Gage launches in another glider after dark to Avalon to round up some 
emergency help. Chet discovers a snake bite on Marco's leg and
treats him in a fire warmed cave. Stanley flies at dawn in a Baywatch 
helicopter with Roy and Johnny and effect their rescue. They all
meet the island's sole, but colorful, nurse and doctor pair at the hospital.
A storm approaches and the doc offers the gang his house for shelter.
Ian and Chris's plane gets lightning struck and makes an emergency
landing at the airport with Avalon's FD on standby on the runway.
Ian and Marco remain behind when the others go to the beach. They find
and rescue two divers in trouble and take them by Baywatch boat to a 
decompression chamber.  Later, they fully relax at the doc's house. 


.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The Story Unfolds...

Season Five, Episode Thirty Three.
 
 壯 California Dreamin'  壯
 
Debut Launch: May 1st, 2006. 

@@@ Portions of this episode owes original writing
credit to Terry Erwin of All American Television, Baywatch
Productions, Episode 'Old Friends', Season One. 1991.@@@                

**************************************************
From: "Roxy Dee" <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> 
Date: Wed May 3, 2006  5:11 pm 
Subject: The Wall Crawling Remedy~~ 


It was a slow afternoon at Station 51. 

The whole gang had long ago given up newpapers and 
checkerboards and were falling into round two of aimless television 
watching and taking catnaps whereever they happened to be sprawled 
around the rec room.

The only three people showing signs of active animation were Johnny,
Roy and Chet. The tinny volume from the station's cheap television 
set held them rivetted, nonetheless. 

"Would you look at that?!" Gage exclaimed in exasperation at the 
current news story. "People are just nuts these days, I'm telling ya." 
he said throwing a careless hand at the television screen.

A news broadcast was showing footage after footage of people waiting in
line at the gas pumps to fill their trucks and automobiles at filling stations
across the nation. 

"Now that is just plain craziness.. We're not out of gas yet, so why the 
ridiculously high prices?" Johnny wanted to know.

"Aw, Gage. Don't you know how politicians work these days? They're probably
taking hand offs from all the big oil companies to look the other way. And while 
that's going on, it's the average guys like us who have to own up to their tabs 
by paying them out through our gas tanks." Chet summed up.

"I don't know.." said Roy thoughtfully as he crunched a carrot from a plateful of
cut veggies and dip. "They say this is a true energy crisis going on because
of the oil embargo overseas. I'm not so sure this is just gas gouging."
Desoto frowned. "It'll probably blow over in a couple of weeks."

"Easy for you to say.." said Johnny with exasperation as he sat up to steal a 
peanut buttered celery stalk from Roy's snack table. "You've got just 
a tiny sports convertible to worry about."

"Hey.." protested Roy. "Go get your own!" when he missed grabbing Gage's
stealing hand.

Johnny ignored him, chewing happily. "You guys don't own a gas hog like I do. 
My rover costs me twelve whole dollars to fill sometimes."

Chet just leaned back in his kitchen chair turned cock-eyed toward the TV and 
stretched."Yeah, well that's what we monkeys get for digging in the dirt and 
depending ourselves and most of our machines on a fossilized mineral 
slime. I say we deserve what we get."

"Oh, that's deep... that's really--" began Johnny with irritation.

"Would you guys keep it down a little?" asked a sleepy, booming voice 
from behind them. "Stoker and I are trying to get some shuteye in the 
bunkroom. We heard you guys commenting on things from the 
peanut gallery all the way over there.." grumbled Captain Stanley
loudly. He wasn't yawning.

Johnny was so startled that he started slipping over backwards 
from the two rear chair legs he was balancing on by the bookshelf. 

Hank had no sympathy for him when he finally lost the battle over
gravity and thunked over, bruising his tailbone. "Ow, d*mmit! Why did
you have to startle me like that?" Johnny fumed.

"I'll try harder to tip toe next time, just for you." said Cap disappearing
back into the garage, heading for his bed. "In the meantime, pipe down, 
ok?"

Kelly just smirked as he watched Roy get up to help Johnny right his chair
and himself from his undignified heap on the floor."Anything startles you, 
these days, Johnny. That's because you're always wound up like a top 
from drinking too much coffee."

The body on the couch laughed out loud. It was Marco.
"That much is pure fact."

DeSoto glared at Lopez. Then he looked down.
"You ok?" Roy asked his partner. "You didn't hit your head, did you?"

Gage nodded no. "I managed to keep my neck up."

Chet mocked with a newscaster sounding voice. "That hollow sound we all 
heard, folks, was just the skinny rack of bones Gage calls for a body coming 
to a complete stop." Then he took on normal tones. "Should be familiar 
enough to you by now, Roy. He always gets into mishaps these days. At 
least once a week on the job by my reckoning."

"Very funny. I'm not going to even dignify that with a comment." Johnny said,
rubbing his rear. 

"It's true.." insisted Chet. "We can always give Rampart a call and get the
official tally to see if I'm right."

"Oh, why don't you just shut up for once!"
Fed up, Johnny exited the room, moving to the equipment closet with alacrity
as he searched yet again for something worthwhile and productive to do.  He
ended up grabbing a still clean and full mop bucket and he started scrubbing
the floor in the corner by the front glass entryway door and Cap's office with 
angry sloshes and wringouts.

His amusement wiping away, Roy followed him out into the vehicle bay. 
"Wanna talk about it?" he said eventually, leaning up against the squad's 
bumper.

"No. Nothing to talk about." said Gage tersely.

Roy bit his lip. "Come on, Johnny. I know you better than that. What's your
problem? I'm a good listener, maybe I can figure something out for you..."

"Now that's it right there, pal. Why does everybody think they always have
the answers for me?!" Johnny said, splashing his mop back into the wash 
bucket so agressively that Boot ansed away from the spreading puddle he
was checking out with curiosity. "Sorry, Boot." snapped Johnny. Then he
continued. "If it's not suggestions on how to manage my love life, it's razzing
about how klutzy I am when things aren't actually my fault at all in the first 
place.."

Roy respectfully stayed quiet while Johnny ranted.

"That snake bite wasn't my fault, neither was that monkey virus or my broken
leg last year. The only incident I can recall that was entirely my mistake was
reaching into that car in the L.A. river bed and cutting my hand wide open.
That.. was my fault.." spattered Johnny. "I wasn't wearing my fire gloves."

DeSoto decided not to mention that soap foam was getting sprayed onto
his shoes and pants legs. "Don't let Kelly get the best of ya. Why don't you
always do what you normally do to defuse him and craft a joke or two to play
on him? You always get the best of him. Well, every time except for that
once when the Phantom wars were going on."

Johnny didn't even look up from his rapid, irritated floor scrubbing. "That's not 
even an option any more, Roy. Because, I'm sick and tired of stooping down 
to his level just to control him.."

Roy's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head earlier?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake." exasperated Johnny. "Now even you won't take me
literally anymore. Do me a favor.. Just go away."

"All right.." said Roy, getting stung. "I will. Enjoy your tantrum. 
I was just trying to help out. Geez.." DeSoto said, moving around the 
squad's front end to get to the equipment stow. He dragged out the 
defibrillator case and the biophone to do a telemetry check. He hooked 
up the antennae after he had the defib paddles charged on their metal 
test plate and made his call. "Rampart, this is Squad 51 for an afternoon 
Tetronix check, EKG and live paddles."

The two paramedics made it a production of not looking at each other.

Dixie's voice came over the line. ##Squad 51, we read you loud and clear.
We're set for your signal and shock.##

"Rampart, this'll be a lead II calibration, followed by a 100 watt shock!"
Roy yelled at her, slamming the phone down on the squad's roof to turn a dial.
Then he waited to hit the shock buttons.

##Squad 51, your strip's coming through as testing all channels. Go ahead.##
she told him, her puzzled tone at the anger in his voice apparent.

Sighing loudly, DeSoto placed the paddles on the test plate and fired them off.

##Cardioversion's registering properly, 51.## she said no nonsense to get
him to shape up mood wise without using other words.

"10-4, Rampart. Squad 51, over and out." Roy said softly apologetic to her.
Then he hung up the phone receiver back into its red metal case and latched
it shut.

Johnny paused in his furious mopping. "Leave those charged up for me, 
would ya? I'd like to use them on Chet's head.."

DeSoto made a face, and put the EKG and defibrillator cases away. He then
drew out the resuscitation apparatus and a clean rag from the stow. He turned
on the oxygen flow and tested the mask on himself at the middle liter delivery
rate. It was patent. Satisfied, he turned it off and wiped out the inside of the 
rubber face mask with a flourish. "Sounds like we all need a vacation.." he 
told Johnny with an angry mumble.

Gage glommed onto that idea eagerly, suddenly very unangry and excited.
"That's it. That's it right there.. I don't think any of us has gone on one 
since last Christmas, and it's what? Mid-May now?"

"Yep." said a confused Roy at Johnny's sudden about face mood change.
He added the drug box to his array of gear to check out on the floor.
He started to inventory their whole set of supplies against a check marked 
laminated card stuck with a magnet to the ceiling of the gear stow compartment. 
"Maybe we SHOULD just get away somehow. You know, re-bond with each 
other or something. It might do away with some of this wall climbing we've  
been doing lately."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that any of us needs to do that, Roy. It's more 
like, needing to do another activity that's not so my-life-depends-on-you-to-do-
the-right-thing kind of thing." Johnny said, slowing down his mopping 
thoughtfully. 

It was the calmest Roy had seen him since he fell out of his chair.

DeSoto smacked his lips in agreement. "Ok, where can we go that's 
cheap enough so the gas prices won't kill us off?" DeSoto asked.

"I don't know.. Uh,..Up north for a little skiing?"

DeSoto shook his head. "Stoker, Cap and Marco hate the cold. That's 
why they moved to California."

"How about a little mountain fishing then?" Gage threw out.

"Nope. We've gone twice and have gotten saddled with medical
emergencies happening. And thoroughly stuck with saving all the locals.." 

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten." Then his face brightened. "I know.. why don't 
we all go to a hiking camp? We've never done that before."

"Where is there a park that's close?" DeSoto asked. "The nearest state park
I know of is in Santa Rosa County."

"We don't have to go far to find someplace really good, Roy. The place I'm
thinking of is only twenty two miles away." Johnny asked.

"Where's that?" asked DeSoto, scratching his chin.

Johnny pointed westward, out the open garage door. "Catalina Island, pal. 
Didn't the Catalina Island Conservancy finally buy up the whole interior to save 
it for posterity and all the wildlife?"

"Yeah, I think they did it last year. They're putting in another pier eventually."
Roy said.

"Then why don't we go there? It's close, wild, and as far away from 
firefighting as you can get."

"I don't know, Johnny. Does everybody even have camping equipment handy?"

"If they don't, we know we both do. We can share with em. And maybe we
can even get in some rented hang gliding time, too. All you need are a pair of
inexpensive permits to go inside Catalina so the Coast Guard knows 
that you're there. Dead easy to set up."

Roy looked skeptical at his partner, pausing in his count of paper sealed 
narcotic syringes. "I'm still not so sure that's the best idea." he said thoughtfully.

"Roy, why not go? We can go for just a couple of days. Let's set it up for 
the middle of next week. We all have that stretch off anyway for that firefighter
convention L.A. ended up cancelling on us." Gage said. "Boring time to get 
unintentional leave, for there's no live ball games set on the bill for then. There'll 
be nothing for anybody to do except sit at home and twiddle some thumbs."

::Spoken like a true bachelor..:: mused Roy. Then he spoke up again.
"Ok,..I'm in. I'll leave it up to you to approach the guys since going to the island 
was your idea. I'm gonna be there anyway, because Chris's gonna be touring 
with his grandpa by plane who's a pilot by trade." 

"Is he now?" Gage grinned with surprise.

"I've already been made to promise that I'll let those two fly around by 
themselves on all the fair weather days."

"What about Joanne and your youngest?" asked Johnny.  

"My daughter's not into that kind of thing. She'd rather stay home and be
domestic." DeSoto smiled. "And-and Joanne's simply content just being
with her, too, while she studies her english writing and takes ballet."

"Then it's settled. We're all going for an excursion into the great wild out of 
doors. It's gonna be fun, Roy. I just know it."

DeSoto returned a mildly excited grin. "I think you're right. I can't wait. Now the
guys'll finally be able to meet some of my family. Chris's sure growing up fast
these days."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Photo: The gang watching tv all together.

Photo: Chet, Roy and Johnny by the TV and playing games.

Photo: Gage mopping the bay aggressively.

Photo:  Roy and Johnny checking the drug box in the bay.

Photo: Catalina Island and a ferry.

Photo: A rural beach on Catalina Island.

Photo: Cap listening to a rope tying Johnny and Chet.

**************************************************
From :  Cory Anda <andacory@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Monday, May 22, 2006 11:26 PM 
Subject :  Turn About.. 

It was three hours later and Johnny was impressed that
the rest of the gang actually warmed to the idea of a
camping getaway. 

Chet had a few words on that matter. "I'll go as long as you
pay for my ferry, camping and hang glider fees. I'm strapped
for cash this week because of paying property taxes, remember?"

Gage scowled. "All right. Fine." he replied from where he
was regarding Boot with intense, feigned disinterested scrutiny.
"I'll pick up your part of the fees. Are you happy now?" he
said, without looking away from the shaggy, equally eye to
eye glaring station dog.

Kelly didn't answer him. Instead, he made a face. "What are 
you doing to him?" Chet asked about Johnny's studying an
increasingly emotional, uncomfortable Boot.

Gage rubbed his face with frowning irritation. "I'm trying to figure
out why Boot doesn't seem to like me."

Roy snorted around his sipping from a coffee mug. "Maybe that's
why he doesn't like ya."

Johnny ignored both his coworkers and reached out a hand
absently to stroke Boot's head.

The dog gave a short growl of warning as he immediately
leaped down off the kitchen chair he had been sitting on
and fled for another part of the station.

"See?" Gage scoffed, throwing a hand in the direction Boot
had departed.

Marco had some sympathy. "I don't know, Johnny. I've seen
you and Boot squaring off over nothing through three of
his station visits now and I still can't believe you two aren't
getting along."

Captain Stanley offered up his view. "Maybe you're just trying too 
hard with him, Gage. Try acting like you're his best friend. Spoil
him a little."

"I do. I do.." Johnny insisted, pouring himself a cup of coffee from
Roy's pot grumpily. "I bought him a bone from the butcher's last
week, didn't I? And what did he do? He buried it out in the yard 
out back and peed on it."

Kelly and Cap and Roy chuckled.

Stoker said. "Maybe he was saving it for later by marking his territory."

Lopez was a bundle of suggestions, too. "What do you expect, Johnny?
A bone's pretty slim pickings when you consider that he's probably used
to getting stuffed on beef fillets from the firefighters in all the other stations 
he goes to see on his neighborhood rounds."

Johnny refused to be appeased. "Maybe I should go in there right
now.." he said, jerking a thumb at the doorway leading to the apparatus
bay,.."and drag a rope around in an invitation to play."

"Good luck." coughed Hank. "You can't just pick and choose your friends, 
Johnny, and expect them to reciprocate. They have to pick you, too. It's
a two way street."

"Well in Boot's case. It's more like a dead end alley." sighed Johnny.

Roy looked up from his plate of nachos and smiled. "Why don't
you give Boot a little more time? I think he might be like a cat in 
this case. If you ignore him completely, he'll hate it and double over
backwards to become pals with you."

"You think so?" Gage asked, brightening.

"I know so." said Chet from the couch. "That's what worked for me."

"Chet, you don't know anything. I don't know why I should even listen
to y---" Gage mumbled through tight, angry lips.

The station tones went off.

##Station 51. Altered level reported on a man at the supermarket.
1719 South Caine. 1719 South Caine. Cross street Burnett. Time out :
9:56.## reported L.A. 

The whole gang leaped out of their seats and ran for their vehicles.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the call, Gage rubbed his chin around his helmet's
strap. "Which kind of rescue call is worse, Roy? This one were going 
on right now? Or whenever we roll on a domestic disturbance?"

"It's hard to say." said DeSoto tracking the traffic around them as he
drove the squad through busy intersections. "More of a toss up. I guess
it depends on what the situation happens to be in the first place. If it's
just two newlyweds having their first dish throwing argument, I don't
ever have a problem with it. But if it's ever kids getting used as a 
punching bag..." he let his words trail off.

"Yeah." said Gage, sighing. "I'm hoping our man's just some bum for the 
drunk tank. I'm not in the mood for any excitement this morning."

Roy looked over at his partner. "Don't tell me Boot's starting to bother
you. Boot's just being.. well, Boot. Nothing to eat your stomach out over."

"That's easy for you to say. He lets you pet him." Gage glared.

A blast on the airhorn from the Ward LaFrance behind them made both
paramedics look into their sideview mirrors quickly.

"Huh.. I wonder what Cap wants." Johnny said as he got the hint to switch
over to their station's private truck to truck band. "Go ahead, Cap." he
said into the hand radio mic.

##I just got off the horn with L.A.P.D. They're gonna be delayed getting
to our call for at least five minutes. Looks like we're gonna be the
ones first in. They have a 211 in progress at the bank a mile down
the road.##

"Ok, Cap. Thanks for the heads up." replied Johnny and he switched
back to the station dispatching channel on the main frequency.
"So much for peaceful Sunday mornings." he grumped.

"Look on the bright side, Johnny. We're not working a useless junkyard
fire or anything." DeSoto grinned.

"Shhh.." Gage hissed. "Or you'll jinx us for real."

Roy lifted a puzzled face. "Now how does that work?" he whispered to 
himself as he gripped the steering wheel more tightly for a turn off the 
freeway.

Soon, they were there.

It wasn't hard spotting where to park the squad and engine. A grocery store
manager wearing a bright yellow produce apron was standing in the middle
of the widest part of the parking lot, surrounded by a couple of bag carrying
housewives, gossipping about some spectacle unfolding right in front of them.

Roy and Johnny pulled up into the middle of all of them while Stoker angled
the Ward to block off the avenue's entrance to give themselves working
room without a fresh crowd of cars being able to pull in.

A squat Asian man in a long oversized gray T-shirt and very baggy black demin 
pants was seated in a wheel chair, out in the open, flailing his feet and
arms like a palsy case. A pair of black sandals had been kicked off his bare
feet and lay on the pavement.

No one else seemed to want to go near him.

"Handicapped? Doesn't look like a seizure." puzzled Johnny as he and Roy 
got out of their light flashing squad to pull their medical gear.

DeSoto rushed ahead and crouched down by the man, locking the chair's
wheel brakes for safety to stop the man's aimless random spinning in the 
wheelchair. He lightly touched the man's still jerking, restless knee."Sir..?  I'm Roy 
DeSoto, a paramedic from the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my partner, 
Johnny Gage. Can you understand me? What seems to be the problem here?" he
asked, sniffing breath coming from the man. 

The twenty something youth didn't seem to be able to focus on faces for very
long but Roy found no sign of alcohol on the wind. 

Their patient smiled.
"Hey.. whaz up? I...uh,..I..don't wanna cause.. I'm just trying to.. I..I.." he slurred.
He continued to writhe rhythmically in the seat, like an impaired invalid.

Captain Stanley, standing nearby, had removed his helmet. He cocked it
under an arm. "Want the O2?" he asked Roy.

DeSoto shook his head. "I don't think his confusion's new. Maybe a 
pre-existing condition. There doesn't appear to be any bruises on him." he
said, carefully studying the man. He fell into orientation questions. "Sir,..can you
tell me where you are?"

"I'm..I'm at the super-- supermarket.." he twitched, still smiling and gyrating 
his arms and legs slowly with dyskinesia.

Johnny wrapped a blood pressure cuff around the man's arm. "What day is
it?"

"Saturday.." he guessed wrong. 

Gage and Roy exchanged significant looks.

"And the time?" Roy said, taking the man's pulse.

"Three thirty... I.. look.. I wanted to get some pizza.. Is that a crime?" asked the
fuzzy man in mild cooperation. His smile wavered from blandness then back
to an absent grin, in wavering cycles.

Roy tried to get the man to focus on him visually with a penlight but he
couldn't seem to connect with him long enough to hold eye to eye contact. 
"Ok.. it's all right. We're here to help you out, mister. Just try to relax. Do 
you have any I.D on you? We're gonna need one for our report so we can 
treat you."

"S--Sure." said the small Asian man in the white baseball cap. "Here." he
fumbled into a front pants pocket for a nylon wallet. He couldn't grip it
too well, so Roy helped get it out so they could read it. "Victor Yang Lu
Ngyuen from 123 Hwy. 101 North in Escondido. There's also 
his birthdate. March 7th, 1955." he said, passing it off to Johnny who had 
completed an initial set of vitals.

Gage looked up. "Cap, could you ask around a bit on how he was found? 
Looks like he might be tripped out on something. There's no medical
alert info or any old prescriptions in his wallet."

"Sure thing, pal." said Hank.

The store manager soon piped up. "He came into one of the side entrances
of my store asking for a wheelchair, saying that his legs didn't work too well.
So one of the cashiers gave him one. He was doing fine fellas, shopping and
reaching down groceries ok. But then he started talking loudly to himself and
spinning around like a space case. Made a mess of my cereal aisle when he
dropped a jar of tomato paste. So we got him to pay, brought him out here, and
then we called both you guys and the cops.." said the manager mildly.

"You did the right thing. He's not himself." reassured Roy as he read the vital
signs Johnny had written down. "Thank you for calling. We got it from here.
Would you mind getting all these people to step back a little. The ambulance
is gonna have to have some room to get through here."

"Oh, sure.." said the manager and he began loudly herding up the curious 
housewives and other car parked folks drawn to the spectacle of a crew of 
firefighters ringed around a limb flailing man in a wheelchair. "Come on, folks. 
Go home or into the store. Nothing to see. Get outta here. Give the man some 
privacy ok? You're gawking like a gaggle of geese. Shoo.." he said, waving 
water wrinkled hands at them.

The crowd dispersed.

Cap got on his handy talkie. "L.A. this is Engine 51. We've one male victim 
in a parking lot possibly being effected by a controlled or illegal substance. 
Respond an ambulance to our location. Do you have an ETA on P.D. to our 
scene?"

##Engine 51, this is L.A...A squad unit reports three minutes. I have sent
an ambulance crew to your twenty. Their ETA is one minute.##

Cap looked up at the sound of approaching sirens. "10-4. Engine 51 out."

Mike Stoker moved the drug box nearer to Gage's knee. "Want me
to set up an I.V.?"

"Yeah. String up a 500 ml of normal saline in case the doctor orders some 
precautionary Narcan. Roy'll have his instructions in a few seconds." said
Johnny, watching as Roy hailed Rampart and gave his medical report to
Dr. Early.

DeSoto set the phone on his shoulder and nodded at the sight of the bag
Mike was tearing open with his teeth. "Yep. He wants it." Then he felt
the man's skin. "It's hot, dry. Early thinks he may be suffering crystal meth 
overdose precursors."

Gage sighed. "Not another one. I sure hope the cops bust that 
hidden neighborhood lab around here soon or those dealers are gonna
end up killing somebody for sure."

"Well, at least it's not gonna be him today.." said Roy, rubbing down a
place on the man's arm not already riddled with track mark scars and
shallow, self inflicted nail scratched pock marks.

The man continued to smile but didn't have the ability to hold still for
his I.V. start. It took both Marco and Mike to hold his arm down long 
enough for the running inserted catheter to be taped firmly to an arm 
board.

Gage took another B.P. once the light Naloxone dose and a little IM
Thiamine had been delivered. "Still up. 172 over 110. Pulse 130 and 
bounding.." he sighed. 

"Early wants a glucose stick to rule out hyperglycemia." Roy told him.

"I'll get it." said Johnny reaching into the drug box at his feet. He moved
aside long enough for the two newly arrived ambulance attendants to move
their gurney close to the wheel chair. "Wait a second while we draw some
blood for a glucose check. He's junked out, but cooperating." 

Both the men nodded. They concentrated on preparing the low bed's sheets
and blanket to receive their patient.

Roy read the strip on the glucometer once the blood drop had soaked through.
"Normal. He's at 100. At least he's been eating here. Right, Mr. Ngyuen?"

"Yeah.. yeah.. had some salad. Wanted some pizza.. Did I get any?" he
asked muzzily, still writhing restlessly in the wheelchair with slow jerks and 
starts. The smile returned, full and beaming.

Stoker had his hands full guarding the I.V. board which he held out in the
air in front of the man's chest. "Yeah, you did. Take it easy, sir. Soon, you'll be
at the hospital." he told him.

The man just grinned, his emotional reactions strangely child-like and at odds
with the rest of his shimmeying body. 

Soon, the man was stretched out onto the gurney and strapped in. Mike helped
lower the man's head down onto the pillow. "Did anybody grab his sandals?"

"Yeah, I put them back on his feet." said Marco. "I gave him his I.D., too.
His wallet's in his hand."

"Ok...  Roy, I'll ride in with him." Gage said, after he completed patching the 
man's four limb leads into the EKG monitor. "He's only sinus tach with slightly 
elevated T waves."

"You sure?" asked DeSoto.

"Yeah, he's not gonna fight." Johnny said. "Just look at him." he grinned.

The man was humming and completely off into a deeper lala land.

"Ok,.  I'll grab the squad." Roy said, retrieving his helmet off of the 
ground. He left for the truck to start its ignition.

Hank issued orders for Chet and Marco to clean up all the needle covers
and paper wrappers off the ground while Gage and the attendants 
blanketed the man and gathered the medical gear together. 
Then Stanley asked, "Are we done here, Johnny? If so, I'll put the
engine back into service."

"Yeah, we're done. Go on ahead, Cap. We'll be back at the station in
twenty."

"Ok. I'll tell L.A. and P.D. that you're going ahead with transporting."
said Cap. "Let's go, gang."  he nodded at Chet, and Marco when they
were through with their task. 

Hank, Kelly and Lopez climbed into the engine and shut the doors.

"Stay with him a sec, Mike? We're gonna put this stuff into the 
ambulance." Johnny asked Stoker.

Stoker nodded, crouching down by the nearly sleeping man's head 
to monitor his breathing. Soon he was quite alone with him. 

Then suddenly, it happened. 

Mike blinked and found himself face to face with the muzzle end 
of a steely blue black .38 mm revolver, pointed at his nose.

And the gun was firmly in the hands of loopy, grinning, 
tripped out Mr. Ngyuen. "Like my piece, mister? It's my ab- absolute
favorite. Just got it last week." he said proudly, still firmly lost
somewhere in his addiction high and wearing his kindergartner 
smile.

Stoker's heart stopped in his throat and he froze in panic.

He found he could only squeak.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Chet, Stoker scoff at table.

Photo: Gage and Boot nose to nose.

Photo: Squad rushing through parking lot.

Photo: Johnny and Roy with full gear in parking lot.

Photo: Man in a wheel chair.

Photo: johnny sees Mayfair go.

Photo: Gun aimed at you. 

Photo: Stoker with a shocked look, wearing helmet.

**************************************************
From :  Cassidy Meyers <killashandrarey@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Thursday, May 25, 2006 7:07 PM 
Subject :  Blink of An Eye.. 

Time seemed to stand still for Mike Stoker. ::Move!:: he thought 
desperately from someplace very small and deep inside of his head. 
::That gun's right now and it's very, very real!:: Stoker struggled 
mentally through a thickening haze of tarry numbness and the 
most absolute, paralyzing fright that he had ever known.

Long, terrifying seconds etched themselves in time with perfect
clarity in his mind.....the glint of shiny bullets cocked in the unspun 
barrel as they caught and trapped his gaze....that idiot stupid, mild 
smile still plastered on the ill man's face...

::I'm gonna die.:: shivered Stoker. Mike blinked a couple of times, 
drawing in a ragged breath, trying to talk.

Then the gun was gone, concealed once more drunkenly 
under a neatly belted blanket fold. The Asian youth
actually yawned and folded two hands beneath his head.

Mike found his mouth had become icy and dry and he still couldn't 
speak at all when Johnny and the attendants returned to his side
to start wheeling away their patient.

::Do something!:: Mike's mind raged, but he felt utterly helpless.
There were still dozens of people in the area in close range of
the gurney. ::But what?! :: another part of himself demanded. 
::Somebody's gonna get shot if we try to restrain him. He might 
go superhuman on us if it's PCP he's on.::

His legs locked, Mike could only watch as the man was casually 
loaded up into the Mayfair ambulance by his coworkers.

Then he had it. A way out of everything. 

Stoker felt the snick of the stretcher wheels clicking inside as they mated 
into the floor locks through the skin of the ambulance under one of his 
sweaty hands. Then Mike took two steps to the rig's front bumper until he 
was sure that the driver could see him clearly, and then he collapsed to 
the ground onto his side, faced away from the truck, not moving. His 
helmet clattered away from him with a satisfying clunk and skid across 
the hot asphalt.

The driver startled, turning to the back. "Hey! Paramedic! Fireman
down!"

"What?" came Johnny's voice in the back. "I'll be right out!"

Mike heard the driver get out of the ambulance and felt him crouch down 
quickly near his head to roll him over for a listening check at his nose and 
mouth. Stoker reached up fast and grabbed him by the shoulders, making him
cry out. He muffled the man's face with his arm. "I'm ok. This was 
a ruse to get you out of the cab. Mac, get your partner to come out with 
Johnny! That man has a gun!" Then he laid down once more on the 
pavement, as limp as he could get himself, around his frantic state.

Mac lifted only one horrified glance back at the Mayfair as he started
shouting. "Get over here, the both of ya! He's quit breathing on me!"
yelled the burly attendant, playing along desperately. He set a pair 
of shaking hands on Mike's face, tilted it up, and pretended to begin 
a ventilation by bending over.

The shout and pose worked. Stan and Gage flew out of the rig with the 
defibrillator and a demand valve resuscitator, along with the biophone.

"Mike?" Johnny startled when he saw who was on the ground. 

Even as Stan and the paramedic got onto their knees over Stoker, Mac 
fled instantly for the back of the Mayfair. Seconds later, the older 
attendant quietly shut both of its rear doors with a reaching arm without 
raising his head to any window's level, locking them firmly closed. Then 
Mac crouch-ran in a zig zagging dodge for 51's moving fire engine, just 
pulling away from them in a maneuver meant to reopen traffic into the 
supermarket. He leaped onto the side runner board to try and flag her 
oblivious crew down. But the gang didn't hear him at all as the Ward started 
a lazy repositioning circle towards the far end of the parking lot. 

Mac was carried unknowingly away, unable to tell the firemen what was 
happening just behind them. Helplessly, he watched also, as Roy DeSoto
turn the squad onto the boulevard, on the start of his way to Rampart.

Stoker shot up off the ground when he finally felt two new pairs of hands on him.
His paralysis was gone, now fueled by fear for his companions. "The junkie's 
got a loaded gun in his pocket! Get into cover..now!" he told them and he 
instantly flipped over and started crawling on his hands and knees, making 
a hasty beeline for the closest row of parked cars in the lot surrounding them.

Gage and Stan hesitated for only a few seconds. "What the h--?!" Johnny blurted
throwing himself down onto his stomach to follow after Stoker. "Stan, grab the 
biophone with ya. I left my g*dd*mned HT in the ambulance.."

Soon, all three of them were under a tiny yellow Volkswagon bug, keeping in line 
of sight of the silent and shut Mayfair and all the medical gear lying 
open and abandoned near it. Already, another curious spectator crowd 
began to build.

"No..no..no.. Why don't they just go away?" Mike hissed.

Johnny was stunned, ignoring everybody but Stoker. "Mike, are you sure? 
How did you find out that he had one?"

Stoker let his head drop onto his forearms right where all of them lay on their
stomachs and he started trembling. "He pulled it out on me and pointed 
the revolver right at my face, Johnny. I was n-nose to nose with it. I'm 
more than sure." 

Gage eyed him without convincing comprehension. 

Mike lost his temper. "J*s*s Chr*st..Why don't you believe me? I was 
almost killed a minute ago!"

Gage started cursing. "F*ck*ng baggy clothes. I never knew. You know we 
can't hands on survey a fully conscious patient..." Johnny spat, rapidly
setting up the biophone. Then he got a good look at Stoker's complexion.
"Mike, are you feeling ok?"

"No.. I mean, yes." gasped Stoker. "Uh,...does wanting to throw up count?"

"Just stay down if you wanna black out. Stan'll watch you." Gage told
him. Then he started broadcasting. "Rampart, this is Squad 51! We've
a Code Yellow. Repeat, Code Yellow. I need a relay to our fire department
dispatcher in L.A. immediately! I've a 10-95. Repeat a 10-95 at our scene!"

Quickly, a base station listening Dixie McCall soon made the needed
connection about the same time a window pounding Mac got through to Cap 
Marco, and Chet in Ward's cab to tell them about the same situation. 

Rapidly, Marco pulled the engine back into a broadsided angle to give Gage,
Stoker, and Stan, the attendant, a clear route to safety behind its solid, 
protecting bulk. 

Then the whole gang and both the Mayfair attendants hunkered down against the 
engine to await the police who soon arrived in three squad cars, ordered in on 
silent reds, a minute later.

Mike closed his eyes firmly so he wouldn't see the outcome of any standoff 
as the cops closed in on the Mayfair with all their weapons bristling cautiously
into the air. ::Vince. Watch yourself out there. Don't get yourself killed.:: he wished
fervently.  

He never even felt Johnny slip gripping fingers around his wrist to monitor his 
post reaction. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  A gun pointed right at you.

Photo:  A fireman down on the ground.

Photo:   Johnny crouched under cover in turnout.

Photo:   Engine 51, Squad 51 and cops from afar.

Photo:    Roy and Gage ducking by the squad with gear.

Photo:    Johnny and Vince approaching an open Mayfair.

Photo:  Stoker looking stunned in a close up.

***************************************************
From: "Monster Moofie" <monstermoof4me@comcast.net> 
and "Patti Keiper" <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com>
Subject: End and Beginning, The Debriefing
Date: Thu May 25, 2006  8:29 pm 


Roy had received the radio transmission about a weapon at
the supermarket. He returned there and parked in a safe spot
and fidgetted with worry while he awaited an outcome.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vince carefully opened the back of the Mayfair as he and 
another officer positioned themselves behind the doors.  Peering 
around he saw the junkie flopped out, sleeping it off.  A loud snore 
punctuated the silence.  Vince carefully entered the ambulance and 
patted the blankets, locating the .38.  Handing the gun off to the 
other officer, Vince pulled out his cuffs and quickly locked the 
man's wrist to the side of the gurney, repeating the steps with 
another pair of cuffs on the other side.  He then called out, "John, 
Roy, all clear!  He is cuffed and ready to go.  Officer Jackson will 
ride in with you."  Vince climbed out of the ambulance and was 
replaced by Jackson. 

Roy grabbed all the gear, climbed up in himself and checked the 
patient's vitals. He contacted Rampart, letting them know all was 
well and that they were on the way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny still had his fingers wrapped around Mike's wrist, monitoring 
his pulse.  As soon as Vince called out and exited the ambulance, 
Mike's pulse changed drastically, his face turning a sickly gray.  

Johnny felt him start to go and switched from gripping his wrist to 
placing his hands under his armpits, lowering him to the ground as 
he fell.  "Something tells me you're not faking it this time." 
Johnny said to the fading engineer.  Gage didn't find a pulse easily 
the second time, he found one only higher up in the crook of Mike's 
elbow. "Just relax. It's over. Everybody's safe now, thanks to you."

Cap, Marco and Chet quickly surrounded them, demanding to know what 
in the world was happening.   Recovering from shock, Captain Stanley 
quickly asked Johnny, "What gear do you need?" Cap looked down 
from the peek mirror he had cleverly angled towards the now un-beseiged 
ambulance. "How's Mike doing? The other guy's still quiet for now."
 
Chet grabbed a blanket out of the squad, opening it quickly and offering 
it to Johnny. Stoker started shivering again as he tried to nod that he
had heard them.

Gage smiled as he opened Mike's collar where he lay on the ground.
He studied the engineer while Stoker stared out at nothing in particular. 
"He's a little shocked, but ok, Cap."

"H*ll, I would be to if I'd been in his shoes." Hank replied.

"I was there once before, Cap. Remember Vince's concussion?" Gage 
asked.

"How could I forget that? You almost got your head blown clean.." Hank 
broke off, very sensitive about Stoker's possible feelings right then. 
"Ah, well. Now's not exactly the nicest time to talk about that particular 
little adventure." 

Removing the blue uniform jacket he was wearing, Johnny placed it 
under Mike's head as he answered, "Let's get his feet elevated.  
It's just psychogenic shock. He had that gun in his face."  
Grabbing the blanket from Chet he covered Mike with it.  

Chet kneeled down by Mike facing Johnny while Cap and Marco 
squatted down one on each side.  

Only about thirty seconds had passed before Mike's eyes fluttered 
back open.  He moaned. Then he rocketed up, turning away from Johnny. 
Vomiting, he spewed his recently ingested meal all over an unsuspecting 
Chet.  

Completely shocked, Chet could only sit and gape, mouth open.

Recognizing that Mike was pulling out of it, Johnny lightly 
quipped, "Well, Mike, looks like to me you caught the Phantom 
sleeping."  Turning serious again, he instructed, "Lie back down here 
while I check your vitals. I think you're fine but I know Dr. Brackett 
might want to see you."

Now completely embarrassed, Mike began to protest, only to be 
silenced by a stern, "Mike!" from his Captain.  Mike resumed his 
prone position and allowed Johnny to verify his recovering status.

Chet, meanwhile, hadn't said a word. He had merely risen, removed 
his uniform's outer jacket and grabbed a rag to clean himself up, 
leaving Mike to wonder what the conniving Phantom would do when 
things calmed down.

"Do you need another ambulance for him, Johnny?" Captain Stanley 
asked.  In spite of his paramedic's assurances, he was still extremely 
worried about his engineer.

"No, Cap.  He can ride in with you. His system just had a small
shock. I'm not worried now."  Giving Mike a hand up, he stepped 
back and allowed Cap and Marco to steer the embarrassed engineer to 
one of the passenger seats in the engine. "Mike, We'll check you out a little 
better once we all get back to the station. Let me know when that nausea 
starts to go away, ok?"

Cap was finally convinced. "Get Stoker into the engine as soon as the 
cops have all of the information they need from us and cover him up with 
our turnouts if you have to, to counteract his chilling symptoms. Johnny, 
I promise I'll get Chet to make him start talking about it on the way back 
to quarters. And I can put in a call for a CISM counselor to help him out if 
he still feels like it, once we get back there."

"Sounds like a plan." sighed Gage unhappily. He turned back to Mike
and kept his hands on his shoulders just to let him know that he was still there 
and that he was absolutely safe in his arms. "Easy, Stoker. We're all right 
here with ya."

Then Johnny picked up the HT and jumped in the squad where Roy 
used to be and drove off to Rampart after Roy's departing ambulance.

----------------------------------------------------------

Detective Lt. Ron Crockett waited patiently for Gage and DeSoto 
to finish a routine vital signs check on their station's engineer. Finally,
he couldn't hold his questions in any longer. "Now, let me get this straight.
None of you had a clue about this character having a weapon on him,
at all?"

Johnny got angry on Mike's behalf. "No, detective. We didn't have a clue. 
I'm telling you, this guy was totally happy we were there to help him out of 
his crazy predicament. Isn't that right, Mike?" he asked, pulling the blood 
pressure cuff off of Stoker's arm. "Roy, he's finally back to normal. 132/98."

"Same here. Pulse's 56." said Roy, then he spoke again. "Go eat something 
once we're done here, ok?" he told Mike no nonsense. "I'm sure Marco'll be 
pleased as punch if you stuff yourself to the gills on his mother's cooking. 
He's been wanting to do that to you ever since we got back here."

"I will." grinned Stoker shyly. "But I'm still mad at myself for not seeing the 
gun on that guy. I was right next to him."

Cap and the gang spoke up protectively in a rush once more about how they 
all had been duped when Vince Howard, the policeman, spoke loudly over them
from where he was butt perched on Cap's office desk. "Now, boys. Don't go 
blaming yourselves in the slightest for that kind of oversight. Police officers 
miss weapons that are located in a suspect's front pants pockets all the time. 
And sometimes, even after very thorough body searches have already 
been conducted. It didn't help that this junkie was looking like Fat Albert 
in clothes sizes five times too big for his body frame." said the easy going 
police officer.

Detective Crockett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What I'd like to know is why 
the paramedics didn't do a head to toe exam on the man once he was placed 
on the gurney." he wondered to Vince.

Cap sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We don't have the authority to do 
that typically, lieutenant. Not when someone's completely conscious and 
talking to us without signs of obvious injury..."

Roy spoke up. "We both agree with our captain there." DeSoto said
quickly, letting Crockett know about his and Johnny's viewpoint. "A 
routine medical call usually doesn't need us to go into that kind of 
detail since the patient can usually tell us what's going on verbally."

"And even if that kind of exam's needed, we still have to ask permission to 
do so every step of the way, like,..' Do you want some oxygen? Can I take your 
blood pressure?'" explained Johnny.

Police Detective Ron Crockett wasn't content.
"You mean you fellas decided on your own not to wait for the police for 
backup even though this guy was clearly altered mentally?" asked Detective 
Crockett sharply. "That was stupid. Doesn't your fire department policies 
state that at any time a patient displays incompetent faculties, a police 
officer should be on the scene to oversee things to assure safety measures 
are being taken in case the patient needs to be physically restrained?"

All the firemen in the fire station office shifted uncomfortably and then 
they got angry. Fast. 

They all started talking at once.

"Now wait just a gosh darned minute here!.." said Gage. "That would 
mean we'd have to call the cops for even the simplest fainting case."

"That's a little uncalled for.." said Roy. "Most of our patients are always 
half out. And those are just the non-trauma related ones."

Chet bristled. "We saved ourselves this morning just fine."

"Cap, did I do something wrong?" asked Stoker.

"No way in h*ll, Mike. You did everything absolutely by the book. If the 
fault's anyone's, all of us are guilty for missing the danger. Including the 
witnesses who called us out to help him in the first place." Hank growled.

Vince held up appeasing hands in defense of himself and his stern
faced African American supervisor. "Boys, boys. We're not playing the 
bad guys with this little meeting here all right? That was never our intent.
We're just trying to get a clearer understanding about what happened 
today so that maybe,.. just maybe, all of us can keep this from ever 
happening again."

Silence reigned in the office, except for Boot's anxious whining.

Mike Stoker picked him up and began petting him to quiet both his
stress reactions and the dog's. "Shhh, easy boy. We're just talking. 
I think.." he glared at the detective.

Crockett threw up his hands in exasperation with a huge frustrated 
sigh and placed both hands on his hips firmly. "Ok,..looks like we're 
gonna get nowhere with this informal inquiry. Howard, we're not helping 
here. Let's go hit the streets after filing their report and do something 
that'll make a real difference to someone else, huh?" he said 
sarcastically.  

Then Ron left the office in a huff, his brusk manner very apparent.

Vince Howard rubbed his hands together. "Sorry for that. We both 
spent a real unpleasant last couple of hours on this case. It doesn't make 
it any easier on any of us that my police coworker had to handcuff your 
patient's legs, too, after he woke up and freaked out for seeing us 
standing over him. His attending doctor just about chewed us up and 
spit us out for doing it."

Stoker looked away, putting a hand to his mouth, stifling powerful emotions.
"He became dangerous?"

"Yeah. And it didn't take much to provoke him." replied Howard.

Cap set a gentle hand on Mike's arm in support. "Are we done? All my men 
and I want to do is forget this whole incident for a while so we can get on 
with the rest of our workshift and start to begin to feel better about this whole 
horrid mess just as soon as we possibly can."

Vince rose. "You're absolutely right. Nothing else can be done here 
today. Any protocol changes in your department and mine regarding this 
kind of rescue call gone bad will have to be hashed out by higher paid 
administrators and other bureaucrats. I'm sorry I let Detective Crockett 
inflict himself on you the way he did. I had no choice in the matter. See you 
fellas, later." he said moving to the door. Then he turned back. 
"Mr. Stoker, if I can show you a few moves on how to disarm someone with 
a gun for later, give me a call." he said, handing Mike Stoker an L.A.P.D. 
business card. "It seems that requests for that kind of training's reaching 
me more and more from all you paramedics and firemen lately. It kinda 
makes me mad that no one ever asks me to do this until something really 
bad happens first."

"I'll definitely look you up for that lesson after we're back from our vacation." 
replied Mike with sincerity.

Vince actually smiled, as glad to change the subject as the fire gang was.
"Oh? Where are you fellas off to?"

"Santa Catalina.. We're all leaving Saturday for ten days camping and doing 
the usual touristy things people from the mainland normally do out there." 
chuckled Cap.

"Well, hug a Beechey's ground squirrel for me when you see one. They're 
real friendly on the island." waved Vince. "I had two of them who liked getting 
into my backpack all the time looking for food when I was on a hiking trip 
three years ago."

"I promise you we'll watch out for them." said Chet, waving back.
"No one's gonna steal a meal from me and get away with it."

"No, you'll only wear one on occasion." quipped Gage, sotto voce.
No one heard him at all then, and he smiled at his own humor.

Vince nodded, putting on his helmet and left the station.

Hank looked up when the side doorbell rang. "That'll be Gloria Schaefer 
from Headquarters, the CISM. Kelly, would you go let her in? We've all got 
lots to get out and talk with her about, isn't that right, Mike?"

Stoker sighed. "Let's get this thing over with." he said, rising. He had never 
been a fan of crisis debriefings. It meant admitting weaknesses. ::And no 
firefighter will ever show weakness to anyone. Not if he can help it.:: thought 
the engineer.

Gage and Roy patted him on the back in encouragement as they
all left for the coffee pot in the kitchen and the formal introductions soon 
to come between them and the crisis counselor.

----------------------------------------------------------

A few days later found the `A' shift finally on Catalina Island.

"I can't believe the time flew so fast!" Marco remarked.  "I really 
thought we were never going to get here!"

Several of the men laughed and nodded their agreement.

Roy spoke up, "It was really getting tough around the station.  I 
guess we just really needed a break from it all."

Johnny backed out of the tent he had just finished setting up and 
chimed in, "I'm sure glad we're here but I'm even happier 
the hang gliders worked out.  I'm really looking forward to 
learning how to soar through the sky."

The Phantom had remained quiet until this point, deep in plotting 
revenge on Mike.  He couldn't resist taking a jab at his favorite 
pigeon and taunted, "You know,.. it's just as well we're all here, Johnny.  
With your luck we'll end up having to rescue you and take you to 
Rampart while we're supposed to be on vacation.  Maybe with all of 
us, you'll manage to stay out of trouble."

Johnny gave Chet a glare, then uncharacteristically dropped the 
subject, instead grabbing his canteen, camera and backpack.  
Inspecting his backpack to be sure he had snacks, first aid supplies 
and a spare pair of socks, "I'm going to head up the west trail.  I 
want to get some pictures of the lake from the viewpoint."  
Whistling, he headed up the trail, Mike and Marco falling in behind 
him, leaving Chet open mouthed in shock.

Captain Stanley looked at the departing trio then he turned to Chet 
and said with a saucy grin, "Well, Chester B, you've been put in your 
place!  You're going to have to..."

----------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  Cap with helmeted gang in a group.

Photo: Gage in turnout by the squad crouching.
  
Photo: Detective Crockett side view. 

Photo:Johnny takes Stoker's BP.
 
Photo: Cap talking intently in his office.

Photo: Officer Vince Howard in a closeup. No helmet.  
 
Photo:  Gang in a meeting. 
 
Photo: Roy hugging Boot.

**************************************************
From :  Roxy Dee <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Friday, May 26, 2006 2:50 PM 
Subject : Catalina Charms~~ 


"...bite the bullet this trip and content yourself with being
just Plain Jane for while. They're onto ya." Hank winked.

Chet froze, where he was fussing with assembling his 
orange and white hang glider. "Oh, so you think that, huh.." he 
murmured blandly. "Well let me share something with ya, Cap.
There isn't a prankster born who can outfox me for long.  Yes,
Stoker christening my turnout jacket got past my guard
and defenses. That was only because his illness was real, Cap. 
A touch of the truth always catches people by surprise and yes, I 
fell for it. It wasn't like I hadn't been warned ahead 
of time that he was going to sick up real soon. Stoker was
cement slurry gray, sweaty, and to go along with those, were 
full blown shivers. It was my own fault that I chose to ignore those 
obvious nausea signs in favor of emotionally worrying about a 
pal of mine instead." he shrugged mildly.

Hank's mouth fell wide open. "Kelly, do my ears deceive
me? Are you admitting to having made an actual mistake? 
G*d, I wish the others were here to witness this." he crowed
delightfully.

"I'm here.." said Roy, poking his head out of Johnny's
tent. "And I heard every word he just said. Booga booga."
he said monotone, splaying lame spooky fingers at Chet
in mock jest.

"Oh, Roy. You don't count. You never gossip about someone's
failings. You're too d*mned honest for your own good." Chet
told him.

"Ixnay on the wearsay ordsway." DeSoto hissed through his
teeth, pointing at a mound pressing against the rainfly of his
tent as a flaxen haired head emerged into the daylight.

"I heard that.." said Chris DeSoto, his voice newly deepened
into a light baritone with growing puberty. "Yeah, Chet, nix the 
swear words. I still don't like em, even though my ears aren't
nearly so young any more these days." he said, crawling out 
of his father and Johnny's four man tent. 

Chet scoffed, mouthing an apology to Roy silently before
saying his next retort. "Ah, from the mouth of babes. Er, excuse
me, let me formulate a correction here.. At least from one with 
some very first time sprouting peach fuzz.." Kelly said affectionately, 
rubbing a few fingers under Chris's barely hair bristling chin.

"Aw, Chet. Cut that out. I'm thirteen. Dad says I'm finally a teenybopper.
And that's somewhere where I'm not a child anymore but not
quite an adult." said the blond haired Chris DeSoto.

"Then what are you...?" asked Chet in a spooky voice.

"Hungry. Who got the short end of the toothpick this morning and
earned first cooking of the chow? I'm still growing like a weed
here,.." Christ said, dragging out a first aid pack to inventory its
contents carefully. "And I'm feeling every growling roll of my
poor bile and acid filling stomach."

"Eeooow.." teased Chet, curling up into a look of disgust.
"Do sons of paramedics always become so gifted with the
more medically graphic turns of phrase. Yuck. You're spoiling
my appetite." 

"Oh, so I guess that means you're 'Cook' today, eh, Mr. Stanley?"
smiled the teenager, correctly guessing the one so stuck.

"Please, Chris. Call me Hank or Cap. Everybody else does."
said Stanley.

"All right. Guess I'm just used to being polite all the time.
Especially out in public." replied the junior DeSoto.

"I can fix that trait in a jiffy. Just start hanging out with me, kid."
said Chet.

Roy smacked Kelly's arm meaningfully. "Not in a million years.
He's going flying with his grandfather this morning, right after
stuffing some food into that fuzz growing face of his."

"Dad...." Chris frowned with a blush. "I did try to shave it all off
like you showed me."

"You're doing better. I'm not seeing any nicks I gotta treat on you 
this time." Roy teased. 

"Grandpa let me use his straight razor. It works a lot better than
those cheap plastic Schick things you like to use.." said Chris.

Roy cleared his throat self consciously, "Yeah, well, I'm
not a fan of antiques like your grandfather is, son. I 
happen to like a lot of speed and convenience for my dollar."

"Grandpa Ian says 'Waste not, want not.' " chimed the half teen,
crossing his eyes at DeSoto.

Roy made a face right back at his first born. "My way doesn't
need a whetting strip of cloth..."

"Yeah?" answered the teen in challenge. "Well, your way needs
a sink. Mine doesn't. A straight razor's perfect for camping."

"You got a point there. Guess I lose." sighed Roy.

Stanley choked down a snort of laughter. "Ian DeSoto? Where's
he off to? I didn't see him at all this morning after I got up."

"Oh, my dad? He usually gets up before the sun to putz with
his airplane. I think he took a shuttle to the landing strip at
first light." replied Roy with a shrug.

"Oh, then I'm late!" startled Chris, shooting to his sandled
feet. 

Roy grabbed his son by the arm. "Not so fast.. Is everything 
accounted for in the emergency jump bag?"

Chris was quick with his reply. "Everything but the oxygen key.
I think Uncle Johnny left that clipped on his backpack by mistake. 
I saw it hanging off a zipper tab last night."

"I'll get out a spare." planned Roy. He let go of Chris's soccer
shirt sleeve. "Ok, you can go. Mind your grandpa."

"Yes, dad."
Chris snatched up his handheld radio from the picnic table
along with a canteen and rain gear and started up the long dirt 
rutted trail leading up to the Airport in the Sky five miles up the 
mountainside. 

Cap called out after him. "Hey, what about breakfast time?"

The freckled boy who looked a lot like his firefighting father, grinned.
"Flying is flavoring, Mr. Stan-- uh, Captain. How can you feel hungry
looking at such a stunning sunrise as that, sir?" he asked, pointing
at the brilliant dawn spreading out over the ocean waters stretching
far below their pinetree strewn ranchland campsite. "There's not a 
single solitary speck of smog in the air. And I wanna absorb every 
second of it from deep inside a Cessna's cockpit at a thousand feet. 
Gotta go!" and with that, Chris was gone in a stirred up cloud of dust 
left behind by his running feet.

Cap chuckled at the same time as a coffee sipping Roy who tended
the black and white flecked western enamelized tin pot still simmering 
on the fire grill. "Now where is that crazy partner of yours dragging Lopez
and Stoker off to?" asked Cap. 

"Off to the 'lake.' Well, actually, it's more like a desert rock rain collection
pool in a cave system just over the hill. It's deep enough for swimming,..
And at the top of the gorge along the flat sand dunes--" Roy broke
off as Stanley got the picture and the idea.

"...it's great for learning how to hang glide using the land/sea breezes
sloping down to the beach. Outta sight." Hank said contently. "Say,
can you pour me a cup of that Folder's? Smells good." 

Kelly looked up from a finally completed glider assembly. "Let them 
swim first. I don't care. My butt's gonna be the first one in the air.. Last 
one to the cliff tops is a rotten fireboot!" he shouted, hefting up his finished
hang glider in a triumphant display.  He hooted all the way up Johnny's
trail catching up to the others who were heading for the slit in the 
cliffside which led to the swimming hole.  

"Bring your radio.." Hank Stanley shouted, throwing a bit of captain's
gruff which turned his reminder into a sharp edged order.

"It's in my windbreaker, Cap. I'm not that dumb.." Chet shouted back.
"See ya on the next airport shuttle back up here. My landing strip's
that beach you're gaping at, directly below us. My guide promises
I'll make it easily."

"Let's hope so." Hank countered.

"I KNOW so.." Kelly shot right back. "See ya.."
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Photo: Catalina airport cliff view.

Photo: Catalina avalon airport.

Photo: Catalina airport building.

Photo: Chris DeSoto, a teenaged blonde boy, close.

Photo: Catalina open airplane.

Photo: Catalina sand sunrise.

Photo: Catalina tentgrounds.

Photo: Chet hang gliding dunes.

Photo: Catalina pool gorge.

Photo: Cap and Chet in helmets by sunny
            cliffhouses. 

**************************************************
From: "Cory Anda" <andacory@hotmail.com> 
Date: Mon May 29, 2006 6:37pm 
Subject: Payback's a b*t*h  

"Ah, this is the life, fresh air, pine cones.. It's gonna be great."
sighed Lopez at the edge of the swimming hole.

Gage grinned, chewing on a blade of grass taken from a niche in
the rock..." What is it? It's a.. It's a...."

Stoker piped up, sleepily from where he napped in the sun.
"It's a thing of beauty."

"A thing of beauty?" grunted Chet as he made a sudden appearance
from the crack hole in the rock which served as the tourist's entry 
into the semi-secret red stone grotto framed around the deep green 
rain and spring fed pool.

"Yeah, a thing of beauty.." insisted Marco in a glare, part reminder for
Chet to stop the scuffling noise he was making. He eyed the harness
around Chet's torso. "So,.. you're going to go do it after all."

"And why not?" Kelly straightened up selfconsciously on the shelf
he had deposited his trail sweaty rear on. "Johnny's hang gliding 
idea was the best one he's ever come up for a vacation plan
since Santa Rosa County.." he beamed happily, rubbing some island
dust off of his nose. "That is,..if I ever get to cool off first. I didn't know
June out here gets so darned hot. And windy. I had to leave my glider
tied to a tree to keep it from blowing out to sea on me."

"It is a desert climate, Chet. Don't you know your California island
meteorology?" Lopez retorted.

"Enough to know that today's a good day for flying." Kelly said.

"Oh?" Gage sniggered. "Who else bought your fly like an Catalina 
osprey invitation besides yourself?"

"Chris and Ian DeSoto. Only they're doing it by cessna." he said. 
"Both should be at the airport right about now, making preparations
for takeoff."

"Yeah, well, I'm doing another kind of takeoff." said Marco, peeling
out of his Los Angeles Raiders jersey and jeans shorts down to
his swim trunks. "Who's up for some good wholesome cliff jumping?
The water's deep enough. You can see all the way down to the bottom.."

Stoker, Gage, Lopez and Kelly curled their toes on the rock ledge they perched 
upon, peering down distastefully. "You first.." said Gage. "That way, if you               **
don't make it, the rest of us can climb down and rescue you long before
you start drowning."

"Ok." said Marco in challenge. "This spot's not so high. What?.. It's about
eighteen feet up?"

"More like twenty.." grinned Stoker in a gray tank top and navy baseball
cap, plying his hose distance measuring skills easily.

"You can't leap off from way up here.." said Chet, growing disconcerted.
"This cliff's not a nice safe diving board. You'll shred all the skin off
your legs and bare feet for sure."

"Watch me.." Lopez shot at him.

"Oh, believe me, I will.." Kelly fired back. "And I'll be anticipating just
how long Cap'll shred you verbally too, if you go and hurt yourself for
doing such a crazy stunt."

"Marco's all right, Chet. The water depth's just fine.There aren't
any rocks jutting up from the bottom." Mike offered.

Kelly fell silent, casting a still half worried look down at the sun glistening
pool below them. 

Then Mike inserted a jokester's expert priming with one stylishly cool
phrase. "Pollo Pequeno.." said Stoker smoothly. "Bet you can't do the same 
dive.." he dangled. His words hung in the moist steamy air and echoed off 
the rocks.

Gage began to chuckle.

That did it. Chet's mouth set in a firm line. "Ok, Stoker. You're on. Ready to
rumble? Let's do this then.." and he mock spit into his hand pointedly, 
"..mano a mano. Marco, you be our height tester, but don't jump off. Just
let us know where the safe places are so we can complete this little contest
without killing ourselves horribly in the process or getting unfairly reassured
by having someone else jump down before us."

"You're on.." Marco crowed with excitement. "Stoker versus Kelly. On the high
dive.. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Say you two dive up to.... " he cast his gaze
around the red sun glowing grotto.."that little gnarled bush up there as the top
most challenge. Ready? Line up your toes on the mark, boys." he said, scuffing
a sneaker in the sand on the ledge hanging over the water. "May the best
man...win.."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stoker neatly swan dived from the second to the last shoe Marco had perched
on a fold in the ribboned cliff face. His body sliced into the water like a knife
and hardly made any splash on the way in.

The gang leaned over semi fearfully from the newest height to make sure he
surfaced once more.

Mike's head broke the surface. "Ok, Chet.. Your turn. Are ya gonna do
the ninety foot leap off or not? I'm tired of waiting for ya."

Kelly licked dry lips from where his lily white toes gripped the narrow
ledge he was leaning for dear life on.

Stoker taunted in good humor once again. "Are ya gonna let me pull
one over on ya once again like that day I stared down a gun? I'm
still laughing about that, Chet. No longer blushing.." he said, squirting
mirthful water out of his mouth playfully as he treaded water.

"I'll do it. I'll do it. " said Chet. "Just to shut your yap. Don't rush me!"
he shouted punily down from his great height.

The rest of the gang began to catcall and jeer with the rest of the tourists
in the grotto who were watching with shivering can't-watch captivation.

Gage shouted up one more time. "I can always swim out there and
catch ya!" he gestured at Chet.

"I'm not a cheater..." sputtered Kelly from up where he was. Marco and
Gage looked like ants to him from his perspective. "All right, I'm going.
If only to shut you up once and for all.." Then he lost his balance 
before he could leap away from the ragged rock face as his foot
slipped.

Johnny shouted. "Look out, Chet! Turn yourself! Turn yourself.. you're
in the wrong position to hit the wat---!"

SPLASH !!!!  !!!!   Kelly went, landing fully on his stomach, his legs
and arms splayed stiffly. Then his head and body disappeared beneath
the alkaline surface and his leap's violent ripples started to die away.

"Oooo.." Lopez grimaced, grabbing his own midsection in empathetic
sympathy. "What a belly flop..." he groaned. 

"Stoker, do you see him?" Johnny shouted down. "Is he ok after that one?
It's been taking longer and longer for you guys to swim back up to the
top."

Mike circled in a three sixty right where he stationed in the pool, eyeing
for movement from below. "Still seeing a bubble column. I think so."

Seconds dragged out into a full minute.

The gang became increasingly anxious until finally, even Mike began
shouting. "Chet? Where are you?!"

Johnny and Marco both leaped into the water after Mike to begin
a search.

Thirty horrifying seconds went by while all of them started to hyperventilate
for frantic search dives.

Then...  a curly mop broke the surface. "...OwwWWWww. That one smarted
like h*ll!"

Gage frontstroked over to Chet quickly and took him by the shoulders
and gripped an arm across his chest in a hold. "Chet, are you ok?! You scared 
the sh*t out of us. Mike's still down there diving after ya.."

"I'm fine." Kelly said drolly with a shrug. "Whatever gave you the idea
that I wasn't?"

"Your delay underwater.." said Marco.

"Geesh, guys. What do you think I was? Born yesterday? My sister and I used
to intentionally belly flop when we were kids to see how much water we could
displace out of the swimming pool. We used to laugh at the lifeguards
while they yelled at us for doing such a dangerous stunt. 
I know how to fall that way without ripping my guts open.."

"Well, he doesn't know that.." Johnny gasped, letting go of Kelly, pointing
down to Stoker's bottom sweeping underwater form.

"Perfect.. Guys, I'm gonna hide. Keep on pretending to look. Let's
scare him real good. Remember, I got some payback time coming for him
puking on me last week."

Gage broke into a grin. "Guess that's true. Ok.. go back down there.  
Pop up again after a longish minute or so. He should be good and riled 
up by then enough to satisfy honor."

"Cool beans.. If Mike doesn't laugh after this, then I know he's still messed
up from that gun call. It'll be our daily psych check on him. Thanks, guys,
in advance." And with that, Chet took a huge breath of air and returned to
the depths beneath the ledge to wait it out.

When the joke was sprung in the end, Johnny and Marco both sighed in relief
when the shy trademark smile spread over Stoker's face when he realized
that he'd been had most thoroughly. 

"You got me, Chet. Ha HA!" he said, shaking water out of his eyes while
catching his breath back. He let the others haul him out of the water to
recover. "Man, guess we're even now on the joking oneupmanship.
I didn't know you had it in you.." he crowed. "I never thought you'd pull your
revenge out on me while we were still on vacation.."

"Yeah, well live and learn.." Kelly said, holding out a hand of apology for
scaring him. 

Stoker took it warmly while he shivered in the beach towel
Marco piled on top of his head. "You know what this means though."

"No, what?" said Kelly.

"It means I get to pull another joke on you now, too, during vacation. 
Watch your back, then, Chet. Because I just might be right behind you
when you least expect it."

The smile wiped clean off of Chet's face.

------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Chet sitting by a desert rain pool.

Photo: Cliff divers diving.

Photo:  Chet doing a belly flop.

Photo:  Chet holding up a peace pipe in a joke.
                                                                                                                                                              
****************************************************************************** 
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Fri Jun 2, 2006  4:15 pm 
Subject: Here's To Chips and Wings.. 


"Aw, don't take it so hard, Chet." said Marco, patting the curly haired
fireman on the back. "It's not like it's the end of the world, you know."

"No, but it's the end of me being able to completely relax myself.
I won't be able to let my guard down for even a second now." sighed
Chet, staring at Mike Stoker's sunburned back as the engineer dried
himself off with a beach towel.

"Poor baby. Here, have a coke." said Johnny. "The sugar in it'll calm your
nerves down." Gage nudged an icy glass bottle against Kelly's 
shoulder in emphasis.

Kelly jumped at the bone aching chill branding his reddened 
skin and he snatched the bottle out of Johnny's hands in irritation. 
"So who won? Me or him?" Chet grumped.

Lopez shared with eagerness.
"It was a draw. You both leaped off at the ninety foot mark." 

Chet wilted in fatigue, letting water droplets drip down off his hair and
onto the cold stone beneath him. "Aw, man.... really? I put everything I 
had into beating his smug little a---"

"Now, none of that. Why don't you go warm yourself in the sun at the
top? It'll loosen you up a tad. I'll walk up your lunch as soon as Mike 
and I get it ready. And I promise I won't let him get any opportunity 
to lace it with jalapenos from Marco's provisions pack." Johnny 
suggested.

"Thanks, I'm counting on you, Gage. Don't mess up here or I promise
you, you'll never hear the end of it." Chet warned quietly as he painfully
buckled his sandals and put on a hawaiian shirt. 

"Geesh, what a grump.." Johnny frowned as he and Lopez watched
Kelly stiffly make his way up the narrow path leading out of the swimming
grotto. Then Johnny started laughing. "Maybe I should slip some aspirin 
into his potato salad for all those sore muscles of his." he chuckled
to the other two.

Mike piped up as he pulled a T-shirt on over his goose pimpling skin.
"Let him suffer until sundown. Then tend to him. He scared the sh*t out of 
me by staying underwater like that for so long." 

"All right. Makes sense to me. He's only gonna get even MORE sore after
getting in that hang gliding session today." Johnny nodded.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet Kelly was almost dozing.  Almost... 

One eye was sealed shut and the other was scanning the pure blue skies 
morphing clouds overhead.

He could hear Sonoran bumblebees and smell California lilacs in
full bloom on the breeze. The spicy scents of toyon and oak intoxicated
him where he snugged face down on a hot boulder to ease his still 
smarting stomach. He knew that he'd have one h*ll of a bruise there 
by nightfall.

He lazily surveyed the canyon and near distant Mount Orizaba, until his
hand brushed something coarse and very sun warmed by his feet. He 
picked it up and studied it. ::I wonder what this rock is? Lava? It's so 
light...::

A scuffling on the trail behind him made Chet scramble to his feet and
get under a mesquite bush. He held his new found soft rock cocked
in ambush while he waited for Mike Stoker to appear....

A firm, strong nose on his shoulder made him fly forward in complete
surprise and Kelly fell onto his back, facing the sun.

'Snort!' huffed a truly massive animal. Kelly scattered like a crab away
from the shaggy beast, still hefting his tan rock pathetically until his head
impacted against a leather boot. Chet looked up, rubbing his scalp with
a free hand.

It was Johnny. And he began to laugh. "What's the matter, Chet? Haven't
you ever seen a buffalo face to face before?"

Chet shot to his feet. "That's a...  a... buffalo? H-Here? But ..but ..but, this
is an island, Gage. Who'd ever release and leave those monsters to fend 
for themselves way out here?"

"The Conservancy, Chet. Catalina's eighty eight percent wildlife land now.
Don't worry. I don't think he's gonna charge. He's not jaw chomping nearly
enough." reassured Johnny, who seemed expert on that kind of thing.

To Chet, Johnny seemed even more Native American right then to him
than he'd ever had before in recent recollection. ::Maybe him being
near that buffalo, wearing those chaps, helps with the effect.:: Kelly guessed.

Johnny thought Chet was still petrified with fear so he pointed to the ground.
"Didn't you see all of their footprints around here? This is perfect bison 
country."

Kelly didn't answer him. He still stood frozen, eye to eye with the 
mildly curious, cud chewing bovine standing only thirty feet away from 
the two firemen. It was well concealed by natural camouflage in the heavy 
mesquite scrub. "Nice, big cow.." Chet soothed the placid bison 
nervously.

'Snort!' it answered, sending up a cloud of desert dust from
its coat.

"Easy boy.. I'm not gonna--" Kelly started to say.

Gage interrupted him.

Johnny looked down and eyed up Chet's geological curiosity, noticing
it for the first time. He gripped Kelly's wrist and turned it over, studying Chet's
odd rock with a growing amusement. "Hmmmm. I didn't know you 
liked to collect buffalo chips to go along with your western era barbed wire
collection, Chet. This one's still fresh."

Chet gagged with a cry and dropped the crusty lump instantly.

He groaned in disgust while he immediately began wiping 
both of his hands off onto his equally dusty shorts.

Johnny smiled even bigger when Kelly went running back to the 
swimming grotto to wash the dried buffalo dung off his palms.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
Chris DeSoto was as excited as he could be. He had found
Ian DeSoto just in the nick of time. 

His grandfather had completed his walk about his airplane, 
paid the tie-down and landing fees, and now he was on the radio 
with the local coastal air control tower situated in Long Beach. 
"Unicom tower, this is Alpha Tango Charlie 11795, requesting
clearance for take-off on runway 22 with two souls on board."
said Ian with a wink at Chris, belted in the front passenger seat.

##You are clear for take-off, ATC11795. Note your MSL approach  
is North 33 by 24.30 and West 118 by 24.95. Altimeter ground level
is 2602 feet. Nearest traffic is 7 nautical miles due SSE
at 1120 feet. Current weather shows a building but weak 
low pressure 40 miles west into your direction. Wind is 20 knots WSW.##

"Confirmed, Unicom. My transponder is actuated. Thanks for the update."

Chris smiled in wonder as the older man put on his helmet after hanging
up the radio receiver mic. "What was that all about? That sounded like
LAX. It's seems so remote here on the mountaintop, grandpa. 
I didn't know anybody was even watching us."

Ian laughed out loud. "We're still too close into the coastline
to not be worried about the other ten thousand and six airplanes zooming 
through the skies over our heads." he explained. "You're forgetting
that all the airliners loop out over the ocean on takeoff from Los Angeles.
And that puts a plane into a trajectory that clips Catalina Island's local 
airspace once every minute and a half."

"Really? Where?" said Chris, pressing his nose against the windshield
of his side of the little white cessna in a careful search.

"Right there..." said Ian, pointing down towards the ocean.

Chris's mouth flopped open when he saw a red tailed Northwest plane
angling out over the sea in a turning arch to gain altitude away from
the unseen skyscrapers of Long Beach, L.A. and Torrance. "They're
below us?"

"Yep. The approach end of Catalina's runway 22 begins at the edge of 
a 1500' cliff. This gives the airport some characteristics similar to landing 
on an aircraft carrier that is 1,602' in the air." said Mr. DeSoto.

"Wow. Needle in a haystack! What else is weird about this airport?" 
asked Roy's oldest.

"Well," said Ian, taking his aircraft into a taxi mode ahead of the other
tourist planes, idling with spinning props for their turn to use the runway.
"This runway's first 2000 feet slopes up and the remainder of it is level.
Pilots can't see aircraft on opposite ends of the runway due to its
gradient. There've been plenty of accidents on this course. On landing, 
that strange upslope creates the illusion of being higher than you really are, 
tricking inexperienced pilots into flying its approach too low. They then
encounter the steep dropoff at the end of the runway which always 
creates significant downdrafts and turbulence, often exceeding some of
the smaller aircrafts' ability to climb."

"Isn't that dangerous?" frowned Chris, adjusting the radio mic over his
mouth around his bulky blue helmet. 

"Nah. Unschooled pilots are never allowed to fly to Catalina, Chris. 
That optical illusion's overcome by using the altimeter, and some focusing on
only the first few hundred feet of the runway. And you can back yourself up
using VASI during the approach. Most pilots only see half the runway when 
aligned with it in takeoff position, See us right now?" he asked, pointing
out ahead of them. "Pilots on their first time here have induced a takeoff 
stall as they panicked by pulling up near the mid-point of runway, thinking it 
was the end."

"Well that's dumb.." said Chris, turning his head. 

"What is?" asked Ian, keeping his eye on the jumbo jet's comtrail he could
see climbing out over the ocean nearly at their same elevation.

"There are no mid-field or distance remaining signs for the runway."
said the teenager.

"I know. This airport's private, Chris. Hard to raise funds for aircraft services,
FBO, fuel, and maintenance if you don't have airfares. They've just
the landing fees to rely on." said Ian. "A cute reminder of that is the fact
that we find rocks fallen on the runway all the time. Makes me glad sometimes
that they have their full stop landing ordinance absolution. Are you ready?
Get set for a strong downdraft at the approach end of the runway. It's 
caused by the prevailing winds falling over that monster cliff out there that
we can't see yet. Be prepared for a dive, Chris. Catalina's downdrafts are
notorious. We might suffer a loss of altitude during our short final."

"I'm set, grandpa. Let's fly.." smiled Chris. "I trust you."

The small airplane soon launched herself into the great big blue
sky surrounding them, heading out over the longest width of rugged, 
high peaked Catalina.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was about three hours before sundown. Kelly had convinced Marco
to fly for the first time with his morning hang glider guide, Kip. 

"All right, I think that's it. I think we got everything.." said Chet, growing
excited.

Cap frowned as he eyed the row of cloth and aluminum framed gliders
lined up on the highest dune of Ripper's Cove. "What's all this stuff?
I thought we were just going camping.."

Kelly looked at Marco. "Oh, you didn't tell him?"

Marco said. "I thought you did."

Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Tell me what?"

Chet fidgetted under his captain's withering look. "Well, we're
going camping. But we also thought we'd do some hang gliding."
he grinned warmly, adjusting a wire's tension on his glider.

"Oh, you mean 'we' as in you and Lopez. Because I tried this craziness
once and I'm not gonna go do it again." Hank said, looking uncomfortable.

"Aww, don't be such a bab-- uh, stick in the mud." said Johnny to Stanley.
"It's gotta be a lot of fun."

"It's a great sport, it's a..." Kelly said, trailing off as struggled to think of 
an expression that covered what he was feeling about flying.
 
"A thing of beauty.." piped up Gage as he saw others circling gracefully
in the clouds above them over Avalon. "Wow.. just look at them!"

"A thing of beauty, huh.." parroted Cap doubtfully, shaking his head in
soft sarcasm.

"You're gonna be thanking us come Monday." Chet reassured him.

"Ah,..after a surprise like this, I doubt I'll be talking to either one
of you guys." Stanley grumbled. 

"Don't worry. I thought ahead.." said Gage. "Just in case you change your
mind, Cap, I brought you a glider."

Cap laughed in his face. "John, there is no case, no possible scenario
that will EVER... get me to jump off a cliff again without a rappelling rope. 
Honestly? I thought you guys would try to pull something like this. Come 
on, come on, let's go. Let's get back to the campsite and get Roy. I wanna
grab another drumstick or two off the barbeque. I'm still hungry."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Kelly strapped himself in with Johnny's help.
"Cap, are you sure you won't change your mind?"

Hank chuckled from his portable camper's chair. "I was about
to ask you the same thing."

Chet was eager to talk about how his morning flight lessons had
gone. "Ah, there's nothing like the rush of leaping off that cliff, Cap.
Get this for me, Johnny, will you?" he asked Gage, pointing to
his radio helmet's strap.

Hank was thoughtful. "Listen, uh.. If you guys really wanna die so
bad, I got assigned a golf cart rental with no brakes."

Kelly, Chet, Johnny and Roy laughed at the invitation.

"Then don't drive it." DeSoto smirked.

"Walking's good.." Hank nodded in instant agreement.

Kelly wove his story about his lesson with the artistry only a new
time hang glider could create, eyeing up Cap especially. 

Johnny merely listened in with fascinated horror. 

"You take off a cliff, drop for a couple of seconds, the wind takes hold.."
Chet grinned. "It's a.. what is it?" he gestured gimme fingers at
the eager listening Marco.

"It's a thing of beauty.." said Kip, the hang glider guide strapping
Marco into his harness attached to his own in a tandem knot.  

Hank was beginning to see the attraction. "A thing of beauty.." he
mumbled finally in a quiet admiration.

Chet picked up his solo glider's wings by the flight bar as Johnny
stepped away. "Come on. Get out of the way, Gage." he shouted
impatiently, grinning like a banshee. "Kip. Marco.. I'll see you
up there!" he shouted, running for the dune's high edge.
Soon, he was airborne. "Yeah.. wooo! " he said as he
drifted away on an uprising thermal. "I'll catch up with you
later!!" he shouted back down to the ground at Cap. 

Once Lopez got over his fright of being strapped like a mummy to
something without an engine to keep it in the air, he actually found that
he reveled in the silence of cloth winged flight. And then he stopped
bubbling out nervous questions at Kip, tandem tied above him in
the same glider.

The two firemen had fun radioing to each other in the air and they challenged
one another in trying to match a soaring osprey's rise inside a warm ocean
thermal. They could see all of Santa Catalina spread out beneath them. Its
crystal blue cove waters amazing visibility and the orange flecks of garibaldi 
mingled with the brown blades of giant kelp.   

Marco grinned. "Hey, Chet..." he said over the headset.

"What, Marco? Can't you see I'm busy banking corkscrews?" shouted Chet
excitedly from his own solo hang glider.

Lopez smile right back as he looked at the crazy antics his coworker
was swooping out just above him. "I haven㦙 seen a car since we launched off
the dunes at Two Harbors."

"That's because they're aren't any. Well, not many, anyway. The locals
and tourists mostly use golfcarts because it takes twelve years to get
a permit to own and drive an automobile." shouted Kelly over
the wind in his transmission.

"Far out.." said Marco. "My kind of town. Just like the Prisoner series on TV.
You are number 6.." he said in a mock english voice.

Chet shouted gleefully, high on flying. "I am not a number," he crowed "I am 
a free man."

Lopez was reflective in his helmet as Kip banked their hang glider
in for a better view of the two small towns built on the island. 
"Yeah, up here, we both are. And doesn't Avalon look like the Village
from that show?"

"Yeah, spooky. I'm just glad we won't be finding Rover on the beach
when we land anytime soon."

"Chet? Kip wants to take me over the west end to see the Isthmus
up close. Meet you back in this area in five?" asked Lopez through 
his helmet frequency.

"Ok, in five and counting." said Chet, setting his watch. "I'll coast 
inside this thermal while I wait for the two of ya to show me the way
home. I really wanna go higher than that osprey, man. It's become
a matter of pride."

"Good luck." said Kip from his own radio set. "Osprey won't tolerate
anything over their heads. Makes them chatter something fierce.
I've never been able to do it."

"First time for everything..." said Chet, gaining altitude. 

"See you soon.." said Marco as he and Kip leaned onto their
hang glider's guide bar and swept out of sight into the setting sun.

Chet smiled when he realized that he finally had some real solitude
to savor on his own. ::Ah, aloneness.:: "You got the right idea my fine
feathered friend." he said to the osprey gliding around in the thermal
above him. "I love it." Kelly stretched in his harness. "Cap, you
don't know what you're missing by keeping those cold feet of yours.
This is pure heaven on earth. Marco's learning that, too."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Hoofprints in clay.

Photo: Johnny looking to the right, in the mountains.

Photo:  Buffalo on Catalina Island.

Photo:   Catalina airport's cliff view.

Photo:   Catalina's infamous runway 22. 

Photo:   Runway 22's dangerous optical illusion.

Photo:   Cessna over Catalina aerial.

Photo:    Chet hang gliding.

Photo:  Crazy hang glider guide and tandem rider in a dive.

Photo:  A flying Catalina osprey.

Photo:   Number 6 from the TV series, The Prisoner, with Number 2. 

Photo:  The "Village" from the series, The Prisoner.

Photo:  A beaten Number 6 on the beach with the Rover smothering ball.

Photo:   Cap and Chet smiling outside.

**************************************************
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Sun Jun 4, 2006 6:13pm 
Subject: Moments of Gravity.. 

 
Lopez had just begun relaxing when it happened.  A sharp
upwelling gust jolted their wind sails, lurching both Kip and
himself upwards in a nauseating violent jerk. Kip yelled.
"Hang on. We've hit a dust devil! I'm trying to--"
His words were ripped away as another slap of curling wind
twisted around their glider unexpectedly.

Lopez, ever the alert fireman, started talking immediately on
his headset to the others at the campsite. "Hank, Roy! We've
hit an off-thermal..." he grunted.

Kip struggled to right the craft, falling into swoops and dives,
trying to find his way out of the narrow monstrous downdraft.
He didn't speak, so intent was his concentration.

There was no reply from the others.

Cap, Roy, Johnny and Stoker were too engrossed in
eyeing up the sights on the beach below them with binoculars
to even pay attention to Marco's frantic radio transmission
echoing out of all the other upturned hang glider helmets
parked on the picnic table on the other side of the camp fire.

Kelly didn't hear him either, he was currently dipping into a low
canyon in a bid to beat the osprey at his own game.

Marco gasped, sharp grains of whirling sand getting into his
eyes. "Guys! We're in trouble!" he screamed into the helmet
radio's mic over the roar of the invisible whirlwind toying
with them.

Kip's chin hit him on the back, making him grunt in pain at another
lurch. "Keep ... talking!" grunted the guide, forcing the flight bar
up to try and gain more altitude. But the force of the mini tornado
was too strong to resist.

Marco gasped as the tips of tall pine trees hurdled up towards them.
"Guys.. we're going down!! Guys, can you hear me?!" Lopez
yelled. "Chet, eye our position! We're going d---"

CRASH!!!  A main beam of torrey pine cracked off the left wing of
Kip and Marco's hang glider, sending them dropping dozens of
feet towards the ground and into a thick stand of a small forest.

Both men fell like rocks, helplessly tethered to the craft as it tumbled
down and destroyed itself in violent snaps and shrieks of aluminum.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marco opened his eyes at the soft tink of metal pipes banging into
each other above him.  He was still in his harness. But he was
also hanging thirty feet above the ground from a treetop where
the luckless glider had embedded itself.

He gave a start when he twisted around in place to check on Kip.
The guide was impaled fully on a branch through the chest next
to him and his face was blue. He was very dead.

"Madre Dios..." Lopez muttered, crossing himself. Closing his eyes,
he inwardly assessed his status. ::No broken bones. Not
bleeding from anywhere except my left cheek. At least that's 
something.:: he thought.   Then he remembered his radio.
Reaching painfully up, he groped until he found the mouth mic that
had been bent and twisted upwards and tried to use it. 
"Chet? Do you read me? Chet?" But there was no power left in it. 
None at all from what he could see. Its speaker light was dark.
::D*mn it. This'll never work again.:: Marco thought when he found
the back of the power unit thoroughly crushed.

He shoved panic aside and worked to free himself from where
he hung. Struggling, he undid his helmet strap to be able to
breathe a little better. It slipped off his head and Marco watched
with some horror as it took a fairly long time to thud to the ground
after crashing through the tree boughs swaying underneath him.

Then Lopez's unfamiliarity with the harness releases tying him to 
Kip's body proved his undoing. The main buckle opened suddenly 
and dropped him out of the tangled glider wreckage and into a
sudden freefall.

Marco yelled in startled surprise. His momentum was slowed only 
slightly by some thick pine branches as his body fell towards the 
ground. Pieces of his hang glider and some of its wingsail tumbled 
down with him, striking Lopez painfully on the head, arms and legs.

Then he hit bottom, landing on his back in a thick bed of pine needles 
with his right leg folded awkwardly beneath him. The large bone below
the knee instantly snapped like a twig.

"AhhhHHH!" grimaced Marco and he folded up double over it and
gripped the fresh, closed break with both of his hands in acute agony.
He threw up immediately, losing his late lunch. Soon, he found he could 
breathe again as the wind that had gotten knocked out of him, returned.

When the bout was over, he was left suffering retinal stars and gagging 
at his intense pain. 

Then some of Kip's blood began to drip on his face from far above 
and he fainted into oblivion.


Ten minutes later, Marco was ready. He had bound his leg with
aluminum struts and glider cloth in a tight splint and he had made 
himself a makeshift crutch using a piece of debris from one of his
glider's overhead beams.  "Ok..." he grunted, psyching up to
try and stand. He knew he had to get to a trail or at least get out in
the open so Chet would be able spot him or the crashed glider still
hanging partially in the treetops.

He eventually got onto his good foot and began the long way 
back to the duneside campsite that lay a few miles downhill from 
him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hank was beside himself. "Come on, Chet." he said into one of
the helmet's microphones. Gage, Stoker and Roy were sitting
next to him on top of the picnic table, also wearing glider gear
so that they could hear the conversation. "He crashed didn't he?"

##No,.. no.. he's fine. He's just ah, ...he's just up to some kind of 
funny business.## sighed Chet from where he was in the air.

"Then why aren't you laughing?" Cap growled. "And why can't we
pick him up on his radio?"

Chet got defensive. ##Because these radios have only got a range of
ten miles!## he decided. ##If I'm not back in fifteen minutes....##

"Just find him." Gage said, holding onto their portable VHF radio
receiver in case they needed outside aid. He had already dialed
over to frequency sixteen, the emergency channel.

##I will.. ## gasped Chet with worry as he flew his searching sweeps.
##I'll find him.##

Quiet waves of wind rustled his glider's wings as Kelly focused 
his gaze on the ground as he swept over the arid landscape and 
steep cliffs which descending in deep ripples all around him towards 
the surrounding ocean. On an instinct, he followed the osprey, still 
calling forlornly above him. It was headed towards a thick wood 
a few miles away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marco was getting tired, fighting his way through thick scrubland using
the clumsy crutch. Then another root seemed to snag the end of
the aluminum pole under his arm and he fell heavily to the ground
yet again.

Lopez took the wave of pain from the jarring tightly, waiting it out.
Then he opened his eyes to see where the crutch had tumbled to.

He was stunned when he heard the buzz of a snake begin behind
him from under a bush. It was very nearby. ::Rattler!:: Marco quailed,
freezing in place so he could locate where the sound was coming from.
He found it camouflaged in a snarl of branches and roots. It was a fat 
rattlesnake only a yard away. The snake was very angry. Marco's
good foot was lying directly on a rabbit it had just killed.  

Marco breath quavered as he tried to will the snake to stillness where it
lay inside the tangled knot of its body. He became acutely aware of the 
quiet-full-of-sound; quail and other birds, waves, wind, insects and the 
bite of poison oak beginning to form a rash over all the exposed areas 
of his skin. A trickle of sweat stung his eyes but he didn't dare wipe it 
away. Slowly, his eyes located the metal bar and he reached for it in 
slow motion until he gripped its sun warmed weight. Scuffling softly in the 
clay, he moved it back under his arm until he could roll his body inch 
by inch away from the snake.

But then, an untied shoe laced twitched an ear on the dead hare. The
snake struck.. driving both fangs deep into the calf of Marco's good leg.

Jerking in panic, Marco threw himself over backwards in fright and in doing
so, fell over a dropoff which sent him hurtling down into an uncontrolled
tumble down a cliff.  His broken leg's splint slammed painfully into rocks
and bushes as he rolled, making Marco scream as he tried to arrest 
his violent fall helplessly.

Then he hit bottom in a deep arroyo and landed face down onto some moist
dirt by a small bubbling creekbed. 

Violated, bumped and bruised, Marco took one big stunned breath as he 
tried to rise back onto his hands and knees, but then overwhelming shock 
took him deep into blackness.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Stanley spoke again by helmet radio. "Any signs, Chet?"

##Not yet.## Kelly answered, turning his flight bar into another turn to the
left so that he'd arch into the next canyon. Then he spotted a sudden white
and orange flash in between some pine trees. He gasped. "##Cap, 
I got a visual. Looks like they're down.##

Gage broke in using his own helmet mic. "Are they ok?"

Chet replied. ##I don't know. I don't see em. There's some broken branches.
Looks like they hit hard.##

Hank sighed. "Let assume those boys have gone and broke something. I'm 
gonna take the golf cart down the mountain to get a chopper."

"Cap, you can't. It'll be dark soon. Too dark to navigate the drive clearly
without good brakes." Roy said to him.

"What choice do we have? It'll be night soon." Cap spat.

"Give Chet a chance to find them. They may be ok and walking out
of there as we speak." Roy suggested.

"Twenty minutes.." Hank agreed. 

Johnny offered another option. "Guys, I can raise help right here.." he said, 
holding up Roy's portable hand held that he had dug out of a backpack.

"Do it." ordered Stanley. "Chet, Johnny's radioing on VHF 16 for assistance.
Hang tight and keep circling over that spot."

Johnny began his hail for help while Cap and Chet continued their 
conversation while Roy and Stoker listened on.

Kelly spoke up again. ##Gage's out of range down there, Cap. I just flipped
over and I can't hear him at all. He's transmitting nothing but static.##

"Then I'll walk to a higher elevation." Gage said.

"You can't get any higher than this, we must be getting blocked by
Mt. Black Jack's leeward side. It's higher than we are." DeSoto
said.

Hank eyed all three of his men. "Then what's left for us to do, huh?
Can you tell me that?"

Roy, Stoker and Johnny looked at him but couldn't offer anything.

Hank walked to the dune's edge and hailed Chet once more.
"Kelly, what's going on? Talk to me."

Chet was straining his eyes to the utmost to see past the growing
shadows falling on the land below him. Then, he saw a small figure
lying on the ground with a bent leg. ##Cap, I see something. I'm
taking ...*static crackle* ..a closer look. *crackle spatter*##

"Chet, you're starting to break up, you're almost out of range."
said Stoker into a mic. 

##I found Marco. He's at the bottom of a rocky quarry.## Chet shouted,
growing scared. Lopez was lying absolutely still, partially tangled in
a bush with a leg splint half undone. ##Cap, I'm about ten
to twelve miles east--- ##  The frequency fizzled into immutability
into all their ears.

Hank shouted. "Chet!"

##.....*static*...I'm going in for a landing...## 

The radio comm whistled and then cut out completely.

Hank pulled off the glider helmet and threw it onto the 
ground in disgust.

Gage shot to his feet. "Time's up, Cap. I've got to leave."

"How?" Roy asked him incredulously. "We can hardly see
the terrain around us."

Cap said, "And you're not taking that golf cart. Not until we fix those
brakes."

Johnny rubbed his face. "I'm not talking about taking the cart.
I'm talking about using one of those.." Gage said, pointing at
the waiting hang glider that Chet had set out for Cap to try.

"You must be outta your mind." Cap told him. "You've never
flown one of those things before. You'll end up like those two
did and wreck yourself on a hillside somewhere."

"No I won't, Cap. Haven't you noticed? It's nearly dark outside.
The wind's died down an awful lot from what it used to be. I can
just glide into Avalon and land on the beach. How can I miss
it? The whole village's lit up like a Christmas tree. I can't
possibly hurt myself.." said Gage, pointing towards the tied
down hang glider's large silhouette looming nearly over them.

The three of them just stared back without saying anything.

"All right. Ok. All right. I admit there are no guarantees here.
But I can't think of anyone else but me who'll actually dare 
to fly out of here. Can you? Besides, I can't be scared of 
something I can't even see. It'll be too dark for me 
to know how high up I am." Johnny insisted. "Ok, Stoker, are you 
gonna get up off your stunned butt long enough to help me 
get into this thing or am I gonna haveta get into this harness 
all by myself?" 

Hank saw the look of sweaty determination in his paramedic's
face and found that he couldn't counteract his decision to fly
out for help. He just nodded once at Mike, tersely, without 
saying anything.

Johnny ran off into the darkness, followed quickly by Roy and
Stoker at his heels.
                                                                                                                                                             
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chet Kelly circled until the cliff sides of Marco's canyon were
whizzing by under his sneakered toes. He barely banked around
a small tree in the way as he glided his wingtips lower and lower 
down with each pass, until suddenly there was no more room for
him to travel. Just solid rock looming up before him.

Kelly panicked and pulled up on the flight bar, causing the hang 
glider to stall in mid air about twelve feet from the ground.

He landed nose down, heavily falling onto his right side with
a cry of frustration. Then he got up.

The night's stillness surrounded him. Unclipping his harness straps
and pulling off his helmet, Chet began to run towards the 
bushes which ringed the place he remembered as framing 
where Marco had fallen. 

He found him.

"Marco?" gasped Chet, kneeling quickly at Lopez's head. He
gently rolled him over as a unit and Kelly bent down, listening over
his nose and mouth.

Lopez was breathing shallow and fast. Chet took a pulse at his neck.
It was rapid.

Sweeping down Marco's body for blood and problems, Kelly found
a soft spot on Lopez's left side along the ribs. When he pressed the 
area lightly, Marco moaned faintly. Chet studied his face. "You are a 
mess." he complained. But he got happier when he didn't find any signs 
of active bleeding anywhere. He paused only briefly over the leg 
splint which was still doing its job even though it was muddy and 
very torn.

He moved further on his survey to course down Marco's 
good leg, splitting his jeans cuff open with a pocket knife. 

Turning the limb over at a feeling of dampness, Chet spotted 
two wet spots glistening in the waning daylight on Marco's calf. 
He recognized them as fang marks. 
"You tangled with a snake, too? Oh, Marco,..why'd you have to go and 
do a Johnny Gage? I'm not a paramedic here.." he mumbled, hesitating 
over the puncture wounds. Then training took over and he tore part of the 
splint's binding free, to use as a restricting band and he used it to tie 
off the blood flow just below Lopez's knee above the bite. "We've got 
nothing to worry about." he told Marco's still form. "The guys know exactly 
where we are. They're going for help."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Johnny nodded once at the others behind him with a confidence he
didn't feel as he adjusted his radio helmet on a little tighter. Then
he ran forward, hanging onto the flight bar as sent his hang glider 
off the edge of the dune.

He couldn't help himself. His screams began immediately as the first
sickenly lurch downward took hold.  Then the wind captured the 
wings and lifted him back up with a jerk into the opposite direction.

Gage careened sideways, overbalancing, and his legs kicked out 
as he swooped and dived up and down, wildly fighting the flight
bar and glider physics for control.

He couldn't hear the shouts of encouragement the others were calling
to him over the radio as he fought to calm the glider against a strong
breeze as he gained altitude. He lived a rollercoaster nightmare until
he remembered what he saw Chet and Marco and Kip doing to
steer the kites.  He straightened his body and relaxed into a push
up layout with his hands gripping right next to the landing wheels
on the triangle bar. The glider levelled off and the violent cloth rippling 
above him died away into soft rustles. He stopped falling.

"Hehhehe.." he trickled at last. "Hey guys, I think I got the hang of it."
At their groans, he apologized. "Sorry for the pun. Aiming for the beach
now." he told them.

The firemen watched as their messenger sank out of sight into
the land's shadows. Then they began to pack up camp to head for
the airport on the way to meet the rescue crews when they finally arrived.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chet was scoping out some shelter for Marco when Lopez regained 
consciousness with loud groans and yells. He went running
back to his side.  

Kelly knelt by his head and helped Marco roll onto his back again
from the recovery position Chet had left him in. "That was a good healthy
scream. Glad to see you're feeling better.." Chet said happily, supporting
Lopez's head while he attempted to focus on his face.

Marco was very groggy and it took him a while to recognize Chet.
Finally, he gasped out a word. "Hey..."

"Hey..." answered Kelly softly, concerned. He waited while Marco worked 
through some shortness of breath and confusion.

"Wh--where are we?" Lopez whispered. 

"We're down inside a rock quarry." Chet told him.

"How the h*ll did that happen?"

"You crashed your glider."

Marco got mad. "I know I crashed my glider. I hit a tree. How
did I get down here?"

Chet shrugged, still leaving a hand on Marco's chest. "I don't
know. I guess you fell trying to get away from that snake."

"Snake?" Marco asked muzzily. Recollection was slow, but it did come.
"Oh,.. the snake.." he sighed sarcastically as he lowered his head down
onto the fanny pack Chet deftly placed underneath his dusty head. 
Marco winced as he tried to move.

"Easy.." said Chet, grabbing onto his shoulders..

"Help me up, ok?" Lopez told him, gasping.

Kelly did, so his breathing would ease, and he started to lift Marco 
against his chest. He felt both of his hands to see how cold he was 
getting with the night's arriving chill. "Come on." he smiled, not letting 
his worry show when he found clamminess to go along with icy skin. 
"Come up. I got you."

Marco drew in a greater breath in half relief once he was upright onto
his butt. He noticed the new dressing over his snakebite. "Did you do
this?"

"Yep." said Chet mildly, still watching Marco's reactions closely. 

"It's a good job." Lopez tried to smile.

"Thanks."

Then Marco's face twisted in strain. "Oh, Chet, I broke my leg." he sobbed.

"You sure did." Kelly agreed. "But you did a nice job on the splint though."
he said, passing over a canteen so Marco could sip some water to ease a
his dry mouth.

Marco took a long swallow. "Uh,..brr..." he said, shivering, drawing his jacket
closer around himself.

"Yeah, looks like we're in for a chilly night..." Kelly shared with him.

Lopez stabbed him with a glare. "What do you mean we're in for a chilly
night? What are you doing hanging around here? Why don't you go get help?"

"I can't. We're stranded." Chet admitted, taking back the canteen Marco
handed to him to seal up again. "I can't carry you outta here. I glided in."

Marco was flippant. "You glided in.. Huh. That's brilliant." he said.
Then he threw up a careless hand. "Well, at least you brought your
headset."

"Yes, I brought my headset." said Chet, nodding.

"Great.." said Marco, lowering himself back down onto the medkit pillow
to get comfortable.

Kelly went on. "....but a headset doesn't work 300 feet down in a rock quarry."
Chet explained, biting his lip.

Marco's face fell into a firm line. "Can I ask you a personal question?" he
asked tersely.

Chet began to fidget self consciously, shaking his head in an adamant no
while looking everywhere else but at Marco.

Lopez asked it anyway. "Where did you learn your rescue training anyway?"

It was Kelly turn to bristle a bit, but he kept his temper under admirable control
for Marco's sake and health. "I'm going to go look for some shelter." he said 
neutrally, pointing at the narrow canyon walls surrounding them.

"Good. Great idea. You go do that." said Marco, still mad. He shifted around 
onto his side to try and find some sleep. "I'll wait here.." he retorted, "Huh. 
He glides in...." he complained as Chet jogged away from him. 

But sleep didn't come, only nausea... And fever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Johnny had a very short flight back to civilization. It took about five minutes
despite his helicopter like vantage point from the hang glider. ::Thank God
it's a small island.:: he thought with relief.

The Casino Dive Park beach lay just below him in the soft darkness. He aimed
for where he could see a black strip between the sidewalk running lights
and the surf's moonglow glistening white caps. ::That's sand. It's soft.::

Lower and lower he came, until he narrowly missed pulling up to avoid a 
life guard tower's flagpole. He took it out with a wing tip, wavered in his flight,
then crashed onto the beach.

A figure came running out of the darkness from the dive shop. "Hey, are you
all right? Why'd you land so late? Don't you know it's against the law to fly 
after sundown?" said the angry shop owner, who righted the hang glider's
nose up to see the dazed and sandy Gage struggling to free himself 
out of the harness underneath it. "You're one of those camping 
firemen, aren't you?" asked the man.

Johnny coughed out sand. "Some landing, huh?"

"Well, are you all right?" 

"Yeah, I'm ok. It's a friend of mine who's in trouble."

"Well, why didn't you say so? I got a golf cart right over here.
Don't worry about the flagpole. Hang gliders knock it down all the time 
landing here. I got a deal worked out with the park people who patch 
it up again in return for being able to park their boats on my 
pier." said the man with a shrug.

Gage listened impatiently. "You got a phone?"

"No,  I ..uh. I don't. My shop's kinda small."

"Can I borrow your wheels then.." Gage asked like a bulldog on a bone.
It was not a question.

"Sure. My golf cart's right over there by that palm tree. 
Just bring it back in the morning for I'm gonna be using it to bring tourists
down from the hotel to the glass bottom boat tour's launching slip."

"Ok.." said Gage, looking around the Victorian built looking buildings, bistros
and clifftop houses. "Uh,...Look, where exactly are we mister? I'm not familiar 
enough with Avalon to get around even with that cart you're loaning me."

"Listen, buddy, this road's Cabrillo Mole. To get to Fire Station 55, hang a right on
Crescent Avenue, left on Descanso Ave. Take that all the way to the end
until you reach Tremont Street. Hang an immediate right, then an immediate
left onto Avalon Canyon Road. Take that and go all the way past the golf course in
towards the interior's mountains.The fire station's white with mint green doors. 
There's a three tiered spanish adobe style fire bell tower to the west 
surrounded by plenty of palmettos near a sitting park. You can't miss it.
The fire chief's there with three captains, three engineers, three on
duty firefighters with the potential on-call crew of 25 more. Once they
know the problem, they can set off the fire siren to call em in. It'll go
on, then off again, and back on in a triplet of thirty second intervals 
once it's been committed. Mister, they can get one of Mercy Air's 
birds or the Coast Guard on the fly in seconds."

"How far is it?" asked Johnny.

"About four minutes. Less than twelve hundred feet if you put the cart's
petal to the metal. I'll run this way and notify the county lifeguards about
your friend.  Their office is at the end of my pier." he said pointing
to a Victorian stencilized sign that said, "Pleasure Pier." at the foot
of a green painted pier stretching out into Avalon Bay.

"Lifeguards? Must be one of my county's Baywatch teams.
I'm a paramedic. Who do they use for emergency communications
way out here?" 

"I think it's still the L.A.County Sheriff's dispatch."

"Thanks, mister, for the use of this. " said, Gage, accepting a key with a 
small rubber water float attached to it from the shop owner. "I gotta go."

"I've no doubt of that. Good luck finding your friend." shouted the local 
as Johnny climbed into the white and red cart and sped away.

"I'll let you know how it turns out.." Johnny promised with an urgent 
outstretched wave. 


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet grunted as he dragged Marco into a cave that he had found. For a travois,
he had used the nose frame of his glider as a drag. Lopez hung on for dear
life as he was thunked over rocks and boulders that littered the cave's floor.
"I started a fire. It's nice and cozy in here." he told Marco as he struggled
to pull him deeper into the cave. "All right.. Here. we go.." he grunted gain. 
"Ok.. I got you." he said as he finally got Marco next to the fitful blaze he 
had going in a rocky depression. "One, two, three.... ready?"

"Yeah.."

"Ok, I got ya." Kelly struggled over the last large rock in the way.

Lopez screamed in pain when Chet dropped his glider made
stretcher down too quickly over the last rock.
 
"There. Sorry.." Kelly said, collapsing onto his butt to rest.

Both men just rested for a while, breathing fast in the cold silence.

Marco readjusted painfully on the metal frame, trying to get pressure
off of his cracked ribs as a new layer of sweat built on his face.
"Oww,... Oh,.. man..."

Kelly, tried to catch his breath, too, and he wiped wind blown dirt
out of his eyes. "What'd ya think?" he said, sweeping a proud hand
over their little emergency camping area.

"I think it would be better if you put me over there...." said Marco
wearily, pointing a slow finger.

"Oh,, uh, what?" Chet exclaimed sarcastically.

"The other side of the fire. Yeah, that's better.." 

Kelly shook his head in disagreement, having come to the end of
his strength.

Marco picked up his head, getting anxious. "Well, the least you can do
is get branches and some bigger logs. This thing's only gonna
last about twenty minutes.." he complained, gesturing at the feeble
fire.

Chet finally let loose. "I found the cave. I built the fire. I know what I'm
supposed to put in it." he told Lopez sharply.

Marco blinked. "Why are you getting testy with me? I'm the one with
the broken leg and the snake bite here."

Chet stared incredulously at him as if he were some odd specie of 
fauna, with half guilty for backtalking and half not written all over his features.
"You're also the one with a strange way of showing your appreciation."

Lopez suddenly doubled up in pain, holding his left leg. "Oh, ugHH!"
he grimaced, holding it. His hands were trembling.

"What's the matter?" Kelly said, scrambling back over to Marco's side.

"The bite. I think it's...starting to go.....bad." he gasped.

Chet looked up at him, reaching down to touch a new area
of red skin on Marco's thigh. "Does this hurt?" 

"AckkKKK! Of course that hurts!" Lopez screamed at the lightest
brush of Chet's fingers.

Kelly whipped away the offending hand. "Ok, sorry. I'm sorry.. I had
to know."

Marco lowered back down onto his makeshift pillow, trying to
slow his breathing rate. "Is the swelling moving up my leg?"
he asked fearfully.

"Yep." Chet said, examining the skin by firelight. Then he shifted
his eyes upwards. "But your color's still good."

Lopez waved a weak hand over the tourniquet. "You gotta move
that thing."

"I know to move this thing." said Chet defensively, Marco's fear
rubbing off on him. "Ok, ok,.. I'm doing it.. ready?" he said, 
untying the knot of glider material banded around his calf.
Kelly slipped it higher up until it was above Marco's knee at
the thigh and then he retightened it.

Lopez bit his lip, stifling another scream.

"Ok,.. easy.. This tourniquet's gonna buy us some time,..
but I guess it can't last us forever.." Chet told him honestly.
"We're gonna get you outta here." he said. "We're
gonna get you outta here real soon.." he soothed.

Chet was startled when he didn't get a reply back. 

Kelly looked up, glancing at Lopez's damp face. "Marco?"

But Lopez didn't hear him.
Marco was shivering in a fitful half sleep, reacting to the 
surge of venom that had been re-released into his bloodstream,
and both of his hands were gripping the front of his shirt in a
paltry attempt to fend off the chill.

Chet took off his jacket, instantly chastizing himself 
for forgetting the most common way to treat shock 
as he used it to cover him up snuggly.

Kelly buttoned up his own shirt as high as it could go 
at the collar to conserve heat and he began to rub his arms 
briskly to try and warm them as the wind howled mournfully 
at the mouth of their tiny cave. He kept a few fingers on the rapid 
pulse beating at Marco's elbow to reassure himself that he
was still with the land of the living. 

"Hold on, pal. Help's gotta be on its way soon if it isn't already."
said Chet for his own ears' sake so he wouldn't start despairing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:  Man down in a rocky gorge.

Photo:  Hang glider taking off.

Photo:  Avalon, CA at night.

Photo:  Casino Music hall and Baywatch lifeguard boat.

Photo:  The Avalon Fire Department

Photo:  Glider flying down to the ocean.

Photo:  A snake bit leg closeup.

Photo:  Chet and Marco lying down.

*********************************************************************   
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Mon Jun 5, 2006 6:35 pm 
Subject: Juxtaposition... 
  

Marco awoke to the sound of a stick snapping. 

He opened his eyes and found Kelly seated by a much 
larger fire, breaking a pair of green twigs into smaller pieces.
Chet smiled at him warmly. "I brought you a given special."
he said, handing over one of the toyon branches that he
had found. "Chew on that. It's got vitamins and minerals in
the bark. My dad showed me where to find these for a quick
snack while we were cattle rustling once in Wyoming." 

Lopez took the stick and noticed movement under the bright
green inner bark's layer. He peered a little closer. "It's got 
plenty of protein, too.There's a family of termites living in here."

Chet's eyes widened and he snatched back the branch in
horror and disgust. They were there. He felt like an *ss.
Angrily, he tossed the offending twig into the fire to burn
with the others.

Marco sighed and closed his eyes wearily. "How could you 
fly off.. to save me ...without bringing me any food, huh?"

Kelly told him how it was. "I had to choose between the medkit,
and a roast beef sandwich."

Lopez scoffed in his dilirium. "Yeah, right. Like a candy bar
really takes up a lot of room."

Chet got mad, his patience gone. "Remind me never to save 
you again..." he said defensively.

Marco lifted his head in amazement. "You call this a save?"
he asked with light sarcasm.

"I call this a save." said Chet firmly, holding his ground.

Lopez begged to differ, and he held up a dirty, waggling finger.
"No, no. I'll tell you what a save is. A save...is when I am
stretched out at home, in a warm bed, with lots of hot food
and lots of loved ones.." he winced. "...fussing over me. 
That's....a save." Then he relaxed back into a half state.

Kelly shook his head in annoyance, mumbling to himself
as he tended the fire. "I should have brought the roast beef
sandwich." 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was morning, first light.

Chet was once again hard at work dragging Marco's makeshift
travois out of the cave and into the open to try and warm him in
the growing sunlight. It had been a rough night of pain for Lopez
when he often became lost in fevered nightmares.

The wind around them was anything but friendly. It was blowing 
hot, and wild, casting leaves, dust and insects into the air in
a flurry of swirls, with a roar.

Marco felt some flying sand sting his cheek and it triggered
a new surge of mindless anxiety in him. He began to struggle 
under Chet's coat as he grabbed at the glider straps holding 
him down. "We...gotta get outta here. We...g--" he sobbed.

Kelly gripped his arms tighter, afraid Marco was going
to hyperventilate himself into a blind panic. "Hold on. Hold on."
he said, grabbing both of Marco's hands into his own so that
he could feel them. "I'm right here, pal. Just try to relax..."

A part of Lopez heard him and he made a huge effort to slow
his rising breathing rate by tightening his crampy stomach muscles.
It worked. The wave of misery passed, leaving Lopez limp.

Kelly noticed that his eyes were starting to roll up into his head.
With a start, he grabbed for Marco's inner arm for another pulse 
check.

Lopez pulled his elbow away. "What are you doing? I'm ok.." 
he said self defensively.

"We're here. I need the practice." Chet told him with a soft 
but no-nonsense worry. 

Marco frowned, gasping, and he looked at the fingers gripping
his arm. He couldn't feel them. Scared, he let Chet get his count.
"Yeah." he agreed. "Do me a favor, would ya?"

"What?" Chet asked him, trying to smile.

"Watch out for Boot for me, ..will you?" Lopez whispered.

Kelly's face twisted in emotion and he looked away 
suddenly to hide the tears which sprang up unbidden.

Marco paled and he started to slip into unconsciousness.
"I'm just gonna take a little rest. Yeah,...take a little--" his voice
trailed off and his eyes closed. The brachial pulse under
Chet's hand disappeared.

Chet's despair returned full fold and he violently wiped away the
moisture in his eyes. He gave into crying eventually, staying silent 
so Lopez wouldn't know how frightened he was feeling.

Sniffling, Kelly moved his monitoring grip to Lopez's weak and 
thready carotid pulse as he scanned the sky desperately for signs 
of rescue.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Hank leaned into the Coast Guard pilot from where
he wore his communications helmet. "Let's go lower..."
he told him. "I don't understand it, we're not in darkest Africa.
Where the h*ll are they?"

The fierce wind blowing in from the dawn warming ocean bucked
and rocked the helicopter like a toy bobbling on a string.

The pilot shook his head. 

Johnny and Roy re-examined the map authorities had given them
of Catalina's terrain, tracing out another possibility and yet another
canyon that might be holding Chet's hang glider. They had
already located Marco's shredded one a half hour earlier.

Some of Avalon Fire Department's on-duty crew had remained behind 
in the forest to bag and carry out Kip the guide's body. 

"Cap, the prevailing winds yesterday were north by north west."
Johnny shared with him. "I got the weather report from the Sheriff's
office before we took off. Maybe if we travelled in a line downwind
from our campsite......"

"It's worth a shot." said DeSoto agreeing with his partner 
over their shared helmet frequency.

The pilot and Cap both nodded, redirecting the orange HH-65A 
Dolphin up and over the rise toward the dunes bed to the east.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet lifted his head from where he cradled Marco, guarding his
airway.

He thought he had heard the unmistakable thwap of helicopter
blades fighting high winds.  He eased Lopez down off of his
lap and turned him onto his side so he could breathe without
his thickening tongue getting in the way.  

Hurrying, Kelly ran to where he had tethered his brightly colored
glider in the center of the tiny rock quarry.  He lit up the SOS he had
spelled out in termite infested toyon branches with a fire brand.

The insects and bark began to burn with thick smoke. It was inky black, 
caused by the chemicals in their bodies. The messaging 
column rose high into the air as an urgent signal sent on the wind.

Then Chet spotted them. A tiny, moving orange dot in a big blue sky....

"Here! Down here!" Chet shouted gleefully, waving his arms wildly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gage nearly jumped out of his seat. "There's Chet!" he yelled.
"I don't see Marco but he's got to be close by if Kelly made a
landing there to spend the night."

Stanley pressed his nose against the search window. "How
the h*ll did they get down there?" said Cap as he got a
better and better view of just how steep and small the gorge
they had found actually was. Hank tapped the pilot on 
the shoulder. "Bring it around.." Cap told him, pointing to the 
left in a downward gesture. "It's actually them this time."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kelly began leaping about ecstatically in celebration when he saw
the helicopter finally circle his location. "Yeah!  Yeah!" he shouted.

Then he ran back to wait with Marco while the others landed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roy looked at one of the Avalon Baywatch guards wearing an
overland jumpsuit. "Would you mind at all if the two of us rappel 
down with the rest of you guys?" he said, indicating Johnny and 
himself.

Cap waited expectantly for the lifeguard captain's decision.

Lifeguard Paramedic Steve Troegger shook his head. "You're fully
qualified and technically still in your legal service area. I'm not 
gonna stop either one of you from doing whatever you want. I know 
how I'd react if that were one of my crewmates trapped down there.
Knock yourself out, fellas. The only stipulation is that you let
my paramedics treat any problems as they're the ones who're 
considered officially first in by the city."

"You are heading this rescue mission." said Gage with a smile.
"I promise. My partner and I'll just hover."

"Thanks, captain. We appreciate it." said Roy.

"Likewise.." answered Hank from his search window seat.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet crowed over the roar of the descending helicopter.
"Hang on, Marco. We're almost home!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stoker spoke into his radio to the hospital in town. "We've
spotted them. We're going in for a closer look."

##10-4, Medevac 1. Mercy Air will meet you at the airport for your
patient transfer. We'll be waiting. ## said a female voice over
the radio channel patched into their chopper cabin commline.
## Call us back when you have your initial patient report 
and I'll have Dr. Greene standing by. Avalon Municipal, out.##

Roy looked up at Mike. "Who was that?" he asked with genuine
surprise.

Stoker shrugged. "One of the nurses at the hospital I guess.
She said they still have two open beds available if we
need them."

Gage started chuckling. "I must be getting a little homesick. 
She sounded a lot like Dixie McCall."

The pilot spoke up. "Dixie McCall? Of Rampart General?"

"Yeah.. you know her?" Gage wondered.

"No, I know OF her, though. Through that RN you just heard. 
That nurse you just checked in with was the one and only one
we have on the island, Jo Swett. Jo talks about Dixie all the time. 
Seems they trained together in nursing school until Jo left
the mainland in 1966 to come here." he said.

"No kidding. Do they still keep in touch with each other?"

"I wouldn't know, boys. Probably not I'd guess. 
Head nurses are kept too busy to hang onto old connections
sometimes. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Roy agreed.

"Ok, here comes the tricky part." said the pilot. "Everybody,
hang on. We're going in. It's bound to get a little bumpy.."

The coast guard chopper started to give away altitude, but
gust after gust of wind buffeted the sides of the craft, making
it rock and pitch with rolls and violent yawing.

The pilot decided not to make the attempt. "We can't land here.
The crosswinds are too strong. We'll land on the bluff. Avalon
FD can route our climbing gear to us there." 

The Baywatch and Station 51 crews all nodded. 

The helicopter stopped fighting for a level as the pilot
carried them back up into calmer air.

"This fire road ends in five hundred yards.." the coast guarder
said. "I'll land us at the top of the quarry. Then you can rappel
down."  Then he got on the radio to the island village's fire 
department; Avalon. "Meet us at coordinates 693 at 7-0."

##This is Chief Hoefs. I copy Medevac's rendevous point.## came 
the reply. ##Six, nine, three at seven oh.##

Hank met the Avalon Fire Department along with Baywatch
Avalon's Captain Troegger outside the waiting aircraft. Stanley 
filled them in after some short introductions. "They're at the 
bottom of a rock quarry. We can make it down the south face. Is
all the gear ready, sir?" he said, flashing his fire captain's
badge.

The fireman in charge of the equipment nodded. "Yeah." 
And he ran through a fast scene checklist. "Three five 
hundred length Borders?"

"Check." said another man.

"Slings?" asked the first.

"Check." said the second.

"And anchor points?"

"Check."

"All right, let's go." Avalon's fire chief ordered. "Troegger, head
both teams going down. I'll coordinate with Mercy and
relay your found patient ICR data to them."

"Right, Steve." said Troegger. 

Everybody who could gear up for the descent to come, did.

The rescue using ropes, began.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chet held Marco's head as he struggled to awaken, and talked
to him. "Hang in there. I can see Roy and Johnny coming fast
for us, pal." he said, keeping his eye on the rocks above. 
"It won't be long now at all."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baywatch Avalon's team along with Roy and Johnny, made
bottomfall.

They disconnected the stokes litter from the guide rope it
was tied to and all six of them ran over to where they could
see Kelly's form bending over something.

Roy shouted. "Chet! Where's Marco?"

"Right here. With me!"

The two on the lifeguard crew who were paramedics nudged
between Roy and Johnny apologetically when they all got
there. 

Johnny asked Kelly. "How's he doing?"

Chet answered very eagerly. "Blood pressure's low. Snake bite's 
been swelling up for the last couple of hours. He's got at least
two broken ribs.... And that.." he said, pointing to the leg split.

Troegger nodded as his medic partner assessed Marco's 
breathing after he had applied some oxygen from his backpack.
"Neck? Back?"

Kelly shook himself out of a daze of relief at being found. "Uh,,
They seem ok." he said with a nod of dismissal.

Troegger directed a lift to get Lopez into the stokes from off
the glider travois. "Ready on three..." he said.

Roy, Johnny, and the others all grabbed belt loops, shorts
material, shoulders, and head for the move.

Johnny snuck in a pulse check from his place at Marco's
neck. "It's 130..but nice and regular.." he reported. "Man,
is this poison oak?" he asked Troegger, gesturing down at
Marco's legs and arms and face.

"Yeah, it grows all over the island. It was unintentionally introduced
by ranchers growing hay. Don't touch him too much or you'll itch 
for weeks later." said the Baywatch paramedic in warning.
"Ready to lift? On three...." he skipped counting 1 and 2 and went
straight to 3 to spare Marco the wait. "Three.." he said, and Marco
was moved.

Pain roused Lopez out of his stupor. "AHHhhhhhh..! " he groaned..
Then he grunted, trying to hide how much he was hurting from
the others. "Nggnnn." he grimaced as he was settled and covered
with a tarp in the stokes. 

Soon they were at the top and paused for an I.V. start
and a hefty MS injection.

"Hey, Cap.." Lopez said after a fast flow of electrolytes had
sharpened his awareness back to near normal.

"Hey, Marco.." said Hank happily. "Don't worry. We
rescued your glider. Won't cost you a dime to replace
it at the rental place since you were with their guide
when you crashed."

"I'm sorry he died. He seemed like he would have
been a really fun guy to hang out with..." quipped Marco 
in a morbid joke. 

Johnny groaned at the pun that he himself had used the 
day before.

Cap, Stoker, Roy and Chet all smiled at that sign of
returning vigor.

"Hey, Chet.." Lopez whispered.

Kelly knelt near, giving Marco a couple of raised eyebrows
to show that he was paying attention. "Hmm.."

"Thanks.." Marco said, and meaning it.

Kelly smiled, his face so full of emotion, that it made his eyes
almost start to water again.

Lopez cleared some phlegm out of his throat uncomfortably
at the intense warm scrutiny by which he was being regarded.
"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" he mock snapped
at Roy and Johnny to get him going to the hospital.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Avalon Municipal, Roy and Johnny had their eyes opened
when they finally met Head Nurse Jo Swett in what served as
the hospital's trauma receiving. 

She was unique, in all respects. And the doctor heading
her was equally interesting to Roy and Johnny. 

Gage and DeSoto were eager to learn more about them now
that Marco had been stabilized and treated for his injuries.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo:   The catalina coast. 

Photo: Air station L.A.

Animation: Willow Creek falls.

Photo:  A Catalina rattlesnake.

Photo:  Chet's hang glider guide, Kip.

Photo:  Catalina avalon FD truck.

Photo:  Baywatch Avalon paramedic chopper.

Photo:  Baywatch lifeguard paramedic.

Photo:  Chopper fly over cliff.

Photo:  Roy with stokes in a cliff climb.

Photo:  Marco down getting treated by gang.

Photo:  Catalina Avalon Municipal hospital. 
             (Real life Midway Island Hospital. Circa 1944.)
   
**************************************************
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Thu Jun 8, 2006 3:09 am 
Subject: That Small Town Charm..


That was once they got over the fact that Avalon's hospital only
had twelve patient beds.

Dr. William Greene nodded at his head nurse. "Jo,..I'm ordering
up these lab studies on Mr. Lopez :  A CBC with manual differential 
and peripheral blood smear, a prothrombin time and activated 
partial thromboplastin time, along with a fibrinogen and split products 
test. Get a type and cross and blood chemistries, including electrolytes, 
BUN, creatinine. We'll need to get a urinalysis to check for myoglobinuria
and an arterial blood gas determination since he's feeling some
systemic symptoms. Besides that leg, please order up a baseline chest 
radiograph, I found some mild P.E. Oh, and a plain radiograph to rule 
out any retained fangs."

"I'll get right on it. And I'll be right back with all of you boys." said the 
silver haired round nurse named Jo Swett as she picked up a phone to
call the hospital's on duty pink lady to handle getting the needed 
specimen samples Bill had ordered.

Roy and Johnny's eyebrows went up completely when she recited
Greene's verbatim word for word to her staffer without scribbling 
down a single note.

"How'd you do that?" Gage sputtered when she was through.
He immediately checked himself in embarrassment at being so
blunt. "I mean,.. remember what he ordered so well."

Jo smiled. "I've been doing this a long time. Since 1966, Mr. Gage.
And in the early days, we didn't have computers and even now we
don't have student nurses to transcribe any orders down as they're 
given. It's just me to make due." 

Roy turned back to Dr. Greene who was washing his hands clean 
in a sink behind his nurse. "So how's he doing, doc? The rest of the
fellas over there and I really want to know." he said throwing
a hand at the others seated in a small waiting area. He watched
as the doctor peered around the x-ray machine getting wheeled 
in for Marco's use.

Greene grabbed up a blue surgical towel to dry off. "Well, the
guilty culprit who bit your friend has definitely been identified as 
a Pacific rattler. And we all know that in 80% of cases, their bites
are usually dry and harmless. I ordered those tests just as a
precaution."

That got Chet's attention from the chair he sat in nearby. 
"You mean, he's not gonna need any antivenin? What about
all that swelling and the fever he had going last night?"

"That was poison oak exposure and what I think is a simple
fibula fracture working." said the doctor. "Those were purely 
reflex immunological responses. Nothing else."

Kelly went limp against the medical desk in obvious relief.

"That's great." said Captain Stanley. "So how long
will Marco have to stay here? You see, we're on vacation
and--"

Bill smiled, looking fatherly. "Captain, all of my patients with
the exception of a rare winter local or two, are tourists like yourself.
I assure you Mr. Lopez will be tied up only long enough to be fitted 
for a walking cast and an application of hydrocortisone for his rash. 
His vital signs are very normal now."

"Really?" asked Stoker.

Bill nodded. "I'll get right back to you folks as soon as
I get a little repair work done. Up there.." he said pointing
to the ceiling.

Johnny's eyebrows went up.

Greene explained. "The city wanted someone doctoring
on the island, if a tile breaks on the roof, who would be up 
there in his boots, hammering. I have many different hats.
I'm Avalon Municipal's CEO, doctor, city official and
general handyman. Nine years ago, my wife Trish and I 
had our belongings hauled here on a barge when I took
this job. And since then, I've never looked back to the mainland. 
I love it here.  We have our usual small town challenges. 
Avalon has 4,200 permanent residents, all of whom pick up their mail 
at a central post office and go days without milk or 
bread whenever storms prevent shipments from the mainland. 
And I usually take my house calls on a golf cart as I'm the only full 
time physician on staff."

Roy and Johnny blinked skeptically.

"Don't worry." he told the two paramedics."When it's gets busy, 
we have four temporary physicians, who rotate in from the mainland 
every five,six, or seven days. Usually, that's not necessary though 
since we at the hospital average only about two patients a day."

Cap gaped. "Why that's hardly enough to cover your
overhead costs." he exclaimed in surprise.

Greene nodded, taking up a coffee pot and holding it
out for the others in invitation. Only Chet accepted a cup.
"I have a 10-by-10-foot office at the far end of the hospital with 
one administrative assistant helping me manage things. Last
year, we had more than $2 million dollars worth of services 
that had gone uncollected."

"Why's that?" Roy asked.

"The city runs all potential critical patients to the mainland, once
they've been stabilized here, by helicopter. Trip takes
about thirty minutes. And the ruling about state sales taxes
being 30% higher on the island only puts a dent into 
our budget deficit because in the winter, our population dwindles
down to just a few, like any other tourist town along the coastline,
and their potential revenue leaves with them. But we're making 
good headway." Greene said. "We've just about gotten through 
a huge pile of old bills that had been sitting on the office floor for 
the past six months.'' he winked. "Excuse me. But a storm's
coming. I've that roof to see to next. Ask Jo for absolutely anything 
you need, and it'll be done." he winked. "I'll catch up
more with you when I get back."

The gang waved and then got a hold of their mutual collective 
head shakes of wonder and amazement. 
 
Chet leaned into the counter and sagged almost
nose to nose with their nurse. "So, Ms. Swett, how did such
an attractive nurse like you get to end up here? The Coast 
Guard pilot seemed to know a lot about you and a mutual friend 
of ours."

"Oh, you mean Dixie? How's she doing? It's been a few months
since we've exchanged letters." answered Jo, not buying one
minute of Chet's Don Juan-ing bull.

"She's fine. She's fine. Still at it at the front desk of the
emergency room." Gage told her empathetically. "But
how come she's never mentioned ya to us?"

"Maybe that's because we get along so famously. Dixie usually
only grouses about people who've irked her in some way
to her friends."

Roy started grinning. "Dr. Morton, Dr. Brackett.. that high
powered administrator upstairs...." he listed off. "That's true."

Jo laughed and took a deep breath. "Actually Mr. Kelly,
I saw a want ad that changed my life. What I was doing 
with Dixie in pediatrics at Rampart wasn't what I wanted to do." 
she said. "I grew up in Boston, so the idea of moving to an island 
was interesting. Here I can provide in-home care to a variety of 
patients, and I simply love the night shift. I figure I am the only nurse 
in the whole United States who works all by herself at night.
I get up in daylight for emergencies, like yours today."

"Is Avalon Municipal a full service hospital?" asked DeSoto.

"Oh, sure. We can do tonsillectomies, hernia repairs, 
hysterectomies and gall bladder surgeries, minor trauma
repair. The surgeons fly in from St. Mary's and bring their own 
anesthesiologists. Usually the local doctor, Bill Greene, is the 
assistant." she said proudly with amusement. 
"And when we're having a baby, I like to go around 
to the other patients and I ask them, 'Are you going to need anything, 
we're going to have a baby now.' And once the baby's born 
I love taking the infant on rounds to meet the other patients while 
the mother's recovering." 

Johnny chuckled. "Do you get many emergency cases in any
given year."

"Oh, yes.." said Jo empathetically. "Especially in the summer.
Like now. Recently we've had a lot of cases like Mr. Lopez's."

"Really.." said Hank. "I thought our man's rescue was highly unusual."

Jo shrugged. "People seem to fall prey to the James Bond syndrome
when they get here; what else can I say? Everybody gets the feeling 
that they're invincible while they're diving or flying Catalina. I've never 
understood that effect. But I appreciate that it pays my salary." she
laughed. "The pace is slow, with the upgrades in my training and visiting 
patients, I'll admit. But there's a certain charm here that I've since fallen 
in love with. I didn't learn how to do an IV until 1970, but now I've lifeguard
paramedics to rely on.  I enjoy what I do I've no plans to retire anytime 
soon for there's a record I want to hold first - Oldest Working Nurse in 
California."

"So, are you gonna make it?" Chet quipped daringly.

Hank smacked his arm, right on the sunburned spots. 

"Oww!" Chet protested.

Jo only smiled, used to firefighters' antics. "There are one or two who 
are older," she said. "I just hope they retire before I do."

Mike Stoker had wandered over to the baby window, noticing a
single infant sleeping in an incubator, on an ekg machine. 
It was only then that the others noticed a sound monitor turned on
at Jo's desk near her hand. A contented coo issued from it.

Curious, the gang joined him to see the baby.

"Aww, she's cute. Where's her mother?" Stoker asked Jo, who
had followed them over.

"She doesn't have one." said Jo simply.

The look on the gang's faces registered incomprehension.

"Baby Jane was left at our fire department steps about a day 
after she was born." Jo told them quietly.

Chet soured. "But who could just up and leave a newborn like
that. That's...that's...insane..!" he finally said.   

"Not really. Ever heard of the Safe Surrender law just passed
this year in the state of California?" Swett said.

The gang shook their heads no.

"The City of Avalon is ready to accept unwanted newborns and get 
them into safe hands. No questions asked. If the mother does the right 
thing and gets her baby to a designated safe surrender location within 
72 hours of birth, there will be no shame, no blame, no names and there 
will be no prosecution. The Avalon Fire Department is a vital link in 
a strategy to create a countywide safety net of Safe Surrender locations
so underpriviledged babies won't ever have to suffer their parents 
socio-economically suppressed lifestyles."

Roy was the only one who understood those ramifications. "There is
a need for it. I'm glad such a law exist now, for sometimes, Johnny
and I treat those kids and babies. And everytime, we've felt
helpless that there wasn't anything further we could do for the mother
after she signed off on our run sheet simply because she knew 
she couldn't ever pay our ambulance costs."

The gang spent a warm few minutes playing with the soon
to be named baby girl until Marco was declared ready for visiting.

A half hour had gone by with everybody eating breakfast spread
out over Marco's bed inside of his curtain cubicle, when Bill
returned with his results.

"Marco.." said Dr. Greene. "You're fine. Your bloodwork's peachy
king and your cast, perfect. But I wouldn't recommend you fellas
returning to your campsite just yet. There's a storm approaching.
I'm offering my house to all of you for sheltering while I'm working 
here tonight. Jo and I might get a few emergency cases coming from
the water. Tourist boat outfitters always get a little stupid in 
squalls like this.  And it looks like this one's going extratropical."

"Oh, no.." said Hank. "You mean like the Columbus Day storm
of 1962 that started as Hurricaine Freida?"

"I'm afraid so."

Stanley stepped forward and briskly shook Bill's hand.
"Doc, I appreciate it. We'll definitely take you up on
that offer. But now we've got to go. We've family out flying 
at the airport."

"Who?" asked Jo.

DeSoto frowned. "My father and son. Let's hope they both don't think
that they can outfly it like James Bond."  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gang was halfway to the tiny terminal tower on the mountain
when the rain began. Doctor Green suddenly came over their
hand held VHF radio.. ##The storm's definitely going to hit 
Avalon. The fire department advises no travel.##

"We'll be careful.." Cap promised him.

Roy studied the sky that was still half clear from where he
sat in the shuttle. "Where are they? How could they miss
seeing a cloud that big?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Roy. But I promise you, we'll
find out once we get there, one way or the other.." said Hank.
 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Photo: Avalon Muncipal Hospital. 

Photo: Avalon hospital evac. 

Photo:  Dr. William Greene's life picture series. 

Photo: Dr. William Greene's life picture series 2. 

Photo: Catalina ambulance cart. 

Photo:  gang watches through window in street clothes. 

Photo: Nurse Jo Swett and associate. 

Photo: Building Catalina storm fog.

**************************************************
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Thu Jun 8, 2006 1:39 pm 
Subject: Final Scene: Storms and Waters... 


"Twice in one day? You're starting to make my boys smile, Captain
Stanley.." said Chief Hoefs as he climbed down off of his station's
fire truck as it arrived to the tarmack at the Airport In The Sky.

Hank shrugged. "What's sharing little business between firemen, eh?" 
he joked. But then his face transmuted into intense worry.

Mike Stoker offered the chief an update.
"Sir, Chris DeSoto's been talking to us over the plane's radio."

"How far are out are they?" Hoefs asked seriously.

Roy added more. 
"My father's really got his hands full with just flying so that's
why my son's been the one doing all the radio contact.
Chris says they're about five miles to the west, northwest,
flying through an active thunderhead. They've lost power due
to a lightning strike and they've two failed engines."

"Do they still have fine control?" asked Hoefs. 

"Their wing and tail flap hydraulics are all still reactive." DeSoto
said.

Hank shouted over the powerful, wind gusting rainfall 
that was turning Catalina gray and frightening around them. 
"LAX says that they're in a good power-off glide back to the island. 
They were following the shortest route from Long Beach while 
over water, to see Land's End which Chris said was mapped 
in a flight plan of twenty two nautical miles."

Steve thought hard, trying to remember some facts about flying small aircraft.
"The midway point of that route would be 11 NM. If your pilot remembered to
check the performance chart for your airplane and see which altitude gave
him a power-off gliding distance of 11 NM or greater, they should make back
here, ok. "

"That's if they remembered to factor in the headwind component." said 
Stanley.

"Boy are we lucky they filed a flight plan with a request for VFR flight 
following." said Roy. "LAX got their distress call right away and put
them on immediate priority."

"Where are they showing up on the mainland radar?" Hoefs asked.
 
Roy shrugged his shoulders."I can't recall all the jargon, but
a minute ago, Chris said he could see the lights of Two Harbors 
at the isthmus."

"Then they're eight minutes out, tops. We'll be ready. Best
of luck, Hank." Hoefs said, crossing the fingers on his fire gloves.
"Here's to talking them down successfully." said the yellow and tan
outfitted fireman.

"Piece of cake." said Hank with very sound, positive feeling while
he gave his counterpart a resounding thumbs up. "See you when 
they touch down."

Steven Hoefs jogged away and began barking orders to his men to 
string hoses from a ground hydrant located near the airport building, 
mated to a small foam unit. Soon, a thick blanket of suppressant lay 
in a slurry across many dozens of feet along the terminal end of the 
high altitude scrubland runway. 

Luckily, the rising storm winds didn't blow any of it away.

Then the Avalon firecrew set about laying two rows of cherry flares to
illuminate the full length and stretched outline of the rocky runway. 
They were so bright, that the even the storm fierce night lit up
in a brillant red glow from their multiple burning brands.

Johnny Gage had borrowed county turnout from Station 55 as had
the rest of them, and he used a brainstormed idea of climbing the back 
of a nearby parked airplane to gain a better vantage point of the odd
downsloping runway 22 through his binoculars. He shouted down to
the others. "I don't see them yet, Cap. Chris's turned on the cabin
lights so we can spot them a little better."

"Keep looking." said Stanley. "Give us the play by play, Johnny, over
your radio so Roy'll know what to tell them as help while they're 
attempting to land. Some of their cockpit instruments may have been 
knocked out, too, and nonfunctional!"

##Dad, I'm scared.## boomed out Chris's voice over the fire engine 
speaker that Hoefs had tandem tuned into the plane's radio frequency
and put out over the loud speaker so that all of his men could hear 
the plane.

Roy held up his plastic coated VHF Radio set to Unicom's frequency
that was connecting all of them to Ian DeSoto's cockpit. "Chris, we're all 
right here with ya. And yes, the fire department's all set up and waiting for 
both of ya to stick the best possible landing you can." encouraged DeSoto, 
who tried very hard to not to let his voice tighten with emotion to where it 
would be audible to his son.

##Is the storm growing worse?## 

"Yeah, Chris. I'm afraid it's....it's pretty bad fairly close to us
to the east because we're so high up on top of the mountain." Johnny 
said in his own handheld receiver.

##Dad,.. I think grandpa's not telling me something. I think he's been hurt
by a panel overload and isn't telling me.## said the teenager. ## I think I 
see a burn on his palm that wasn't there before we took off.##

"How's his consciousness level?" asked Roy, biting his lip.
::If Ian blacks out..:: he quailed.

##He's still talking, but we're wavering all over the place. And he's
sweating. Kinda pale.##

"Hang on, Chris. We're gonna come up with a backup plan for you.."
s0aid Roy. "You just try to keep Grandpa focused, all right?"

Then he, Cap, Stoker and Avalon's fire chief fell into hurried discussion
about other options for landing. Roy signaled up to Johnny with
his arms outstretched like wings and waggled them into firm stillness
like he was steadying himself.

Johnny got that idea right away.
Gage spoke up. "Listen, Chris.. can you at least take over the
plane's leveling handles? You're almost scot free. Ian can 
probably still do the rest of the hard parts."

##I....can...## grunted Ian DeSoto through the radio. ##Not much
...lightning....got to me....## gasped his strained voice.

Chris's voice came back on. ##Grandpa's showing me how
to steady the wings, Dad. I think I can do this...## he said excitedly.

"I know you can, son." said Roy empathetically, letting the rain wash
away a tear of fright.

Johnny began signalling away from his radio mic. "I see em! But
there's a problem.. They're approaching us going the wrong way
in relation to the runway. About two miles out."

The Chief issued another fast set of orders. "Boys, lay the other
end in foam. Fast as you can. Their pilot's probably reversed his 
landing to try and handle all this fouling weather to get the best 
advantage. Move!" he said crisply.

The fire truck crew hastened to carry them out. Soon, the second
location for foamed countermeasures was ready with yet another
team of firefighters held at hose charged readiness.

At the same time, Johnny yelled again. "I lost sight of the plane.
A cloud bank's rolled in! I'll try to find em again."
 
Hoefs smiled under his water cascading helmet. "Your father's
a smart man, DeSoto. He's getting the airport cliff's wind shear 
quirk out of the way first. Don't worry about medical gear for him.
We've plenty for you and your partner to use."

Roy kept running cardiac anomaly scenarios through his head
despite the Chief's kind reassurances.

##I see you!## said Chris suddenly as the stricken, silent plane
burst through a black fold in the storming clouds with a crack
of thunder, illuminated by lightning flash.

"I've a positive visual! They're right on track!" Gage said at the
same time.

"Thank G*d they've run the gauntlet over that cliff ok.." sighed
Roy. Then he picked up his radio. "How are the two of you doing, 
Chris? Talk to me.."

There was no reply.

"Chris?!" Roy said sharply. "Can you hear me?"

He received nothing but static over the radio. Frustrated,
Roy let the radio fall away from his mouth. With nothing else 
possible for him to do, Roy felt his eyes glue to the storm 
silhouetted outline of white aircraft that Johnny was pointing to 
that was careening in jerks as it came down out of the sky.

All the fireman froze in place as the next few seconds determined
the make or break of imminent disaster.

The little cessna's wheels touched down dead center of the
cherry flares and absolutely parallel with their glowing white
smoke sputtering rows. 

Roy, Johnny, Cap and the others began cheering as they leaped
onto Avalon's fire engine to rush down the runway after them.

A minute later, the cessna was dead stopped and safe.

Roy climbed onto the little plane's wing and pulled the door
open. Chris had had the foresight to start Ian on the aircraft's
tiny oxygen supply in a first aid attempt. "How's he doing?"

Chris answered. "He was just awake and talking
to me, Dad, I don't understand it."

"Dad?" asked Roy, "Can you hear me?" he shouted frantically 
as he scrambled on board. He dug a grip around Ian's neck
feeling for a carotid. "Can you breathe all right?"

The older man didn't move..

But then, Ian nodded, and took another solid deep breath under
the oxygen's flowing face mask. And for show, he moved all of 
his arms and legs normally.

DeSoto sighed in relief when his fingers found a very regular
and uncomplicated heartbeat down to the wrist. "No kerauno- or 
respiratory paralysis is present. Not even slightly, Johnny. Let's get 
him outta here and into the ambulance." he sighed in relief. Then he 
looked over at his son proudly. "You did a good job, Chris. A very 
good job."

"I didn't do anything, Dad. Grandpa did all the work. I just helped
him out a little bit with all the levelling."

"Yeah, well that little bit saved you both. I'm proud of ya. We all
are. Come on out of there so Johnny can get to work starting
Dad's I.V. here. I've got someone I'd like you to meet outside."

"Who is he, Dad?" Chris wondered.

"Just think of him as Captain Stanley's island counterpart." he
grinned. "Only a rank up. We owe him a very large favor for
being here for us today. Twice, for that matter." he admitted.

"Why twice, Dad? And where's Marco? I don't see him anywhere
out there."

"Well, Chris. That's a very long story. It just so happens those
two facts are concurrent. I'll tell you once we're all warm, dry 
and comfortable at our new host, Dr. Greene's house."

"Ok.."

Hank Stanley came over just then, grinning. "Hey Roy, would
you take a look at that? Guess what kind of ambulance they
sent up here to meet us.."

"What is it?" asked DeSoto, opening up his father's shirt collar
a little wider as he peered out through the rain showered windshield.

"It's a 1959 ...Catalina..." Stanley elaborated.

"Well, I'll be." chuckled DeSoto, laughing out loud.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The storm raged through most of the night, pounding Avalon Harbor
and doing its best to damage infrastructure. But no more crises 
developed. The weather warnings put out by the county had done
their job of keeping all of Catalina Island's tourists and locals safe.

Chet came out of the bedroom of Dr. Greene's cliffside house
and marvelled at the view glowing in a brilliant sunny dawn
splendor just beyond the glass panes framing the many windowed 
living room space. "Wow, this is the life. No wonder Bill bought
land way up here. He's got this place laid out like a mountainside
ski chalet. Although it would've completed the illusion
if we had some serious snowing going on." Kelly sighed, putting
his hands on his hips.

"That storm we didn't sleep through last night was more than
enough for me, Chet. You can keep your snow." said Roy as he 
rebound his father's electrical burn. "How's that, not too tight?"

"It's fine, son. And yes, my headache's gone, too." said Ian, still loafing in
an opulent leather recliner. "Once you two annoying paramedics
decide you're done fussing with Marco and I, go out and have a little
fun, huh?"

"Who's fussing?" said Johnny as he finished pulling a blood pressure
cuff of Marco's arm. "We're only following Bill's orders to make
sure you two relax enough to start healing properly." Gage said
drolly.

Ian ignored him. "And take Chris with you. Show him a good time for me.
I gotta find some way to thank him for saving me."

"Oh, Grandpa.." exclaimed Chris in his warm teenaged baritone.

Lopez jumped on the bandwagon.
"Yeah, guys. We'll both manage. Can't say we're not in the lap of luxury
here in the house. Wide screen TV, a wet bar, a jacuzzi..."

"Not in that cast.." Gage shook a finger at him.

"Johnny, I was only kidding about the whirlpool. I do know better."
Marco frowned, taking another sip of his iced tea. "And if
we get tired we can always go out onto the deck and nap in the sun."

Roy and Johnny looked around their rich, airy surroundings
skeptically, but finally, in the end, they relented. "Fair enough.
Ok, we'll go." said Cap for the rest of them.

"Take plenty of pictures for us. Then we'll have something to
look at for this day we're missing..." said Marco empathetically
as the guys and Chris trudged out the door with full sets of 
waving hands.

"We will.." they said.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gang was settled happily. They were enjoying a
beach picnic at Parsons Landing while they lazily watched a scuba
boat conducting its tourist pair through a diving experience
just past the surfline.

Chet's sunburn had reached the peeling stage and he absently
scratched while he munched away on five legs of Stoker's fried 
chicken. "Umm, Mike. Excellent as usual.... Say, guys, maybe we
should make him cook chicken on a BBQ outside when we get home
when it's his turn to cook again back at the station. 
Maybe we'll be able recreate today's dream feast if we do that."

"Not in a million years.." said Stoker. "I hate getting smoke in my
eyes without a good reason for it."

"Spoken like a true veteran firefighter.." chuckled Cap.

Roy smiled. "So, Chet, what's on the agenda for today? We've
already tried hang gliding.. What's next?"

"Surfing lessons.."

"Surfing lessons? Are you out of your everloving mind?!" roared
Hank. "There's still massive storm surge out there. You like
the idea of drowning in it?" 

"No one's gonna drown, Cap. Johnny and I just wanna park on
our stomachs on top of our boards and--"

"Gage,..you didn't encourage him on this, did you?" Stanley asked,
redirecting his instant ire.

"Uh,..." Johnny stopped chewing his potato salad.

Chris began to giggle, pointing at Gage from where he
said on their medical bag.

Kelly thrust Johnny out further along the limb.
"He sure did. You see, Gage thought it would be less risky for
us to swim today than to try flying anything after the experiences 
we've had to live through during the last two days." said Chet.

"Thanks a lot.." hissed Johnny through his teeth at Chet.

Kelly ignored him and took another sip of Diet Rite.

"Nope. I forbid it." Hank said evenly. 

"You can't do that to us, Cap.. we're on vacation.." Gage protested.
"We're not at the station for you to have the power to order
us around."

"I'm not doing any forbidding because of how we usually work
together while on the time clock. I'm putting my foot down because 
the two of you forgot something very fundamental about our
outing today."

"Oh, yeah?" Johnny asked, still a little stung. "And what's that?"

Both Roy and Cap said the same thing at the same time.
"A permit. "

Chet and Johnny both looked at each other wanly. 

Roy elaborated. "You need one to enter the water for any 
kind of ocean activity here. It's in the park rules. See?"
he said handing over a pamphlet. "Just read here by
the number six."

Gage snatched it out of his hands, reading fast in irritation,
with an equally miffed Chet, reading over his shoulder.
In a few seconds, Johnny balled up and threw the park
guidelines away over his head in disgust.

"No littering's allowed either.." said Hank matter of fact,
with a neutral grin, pointing absently at the wad spinning
in the sand in the wind.

Chet pinned the pale yellow paper down onto the sand 
with a newly flaking bare foot before an arriving
gust could blow it away, and just glowered.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Deep under the water, a diving instructor was doing a head
count of his two tourist students while they explored a thick 
kelp forest that was rising up from the rocky floor thirty feet 
below. Their flipper strokes were lazy.  
:: All normal. These two catch on fast.:: he thought. ::Ahhh, 
so it's gonna be easy fee earning today. Cool..:: 

He had just looked at his watch to time their remaining 
regulator air when the man of the couple suddenly fell
motionless to the bottom. ::Oh, sh*t..:: thought the instructor
and he dove down to where the woman was panicking 
below as she gestured at her arms and legs still husband.

The instructor pulled the woman away from the man's
face plate after making sure she had her own air still safely
in her own mouth. He peered at the man's face through his
mask. His eyes were open and dulled in a thousand-yards
stare. ::He's out...::

The instructor dropped the man's weight belt completely
off and then the woman's and his own as he grabbed the 
unconscious husband around the chest for an emergency
ascent to the surface. As he kicked himself and his victim
upward, he kept looking down to make sure that the woman 
was following them. ::We'll make it fine here without a 
decompression stop. We've only been down ten minutes.::

What he didn't know what that the couple had been diving
the morning before with another dive company at depths 
below sixty feet. Unbeknownst to him, serious problems for 
them were already starting.

He got to the surface, tore off the husband's mask, and listened
at his nose and mouth for any signs of breathing. He found none.
Immediately, he began mouth to mouth on the man as he
swam him rapidly into the shore.

The wife's head broke the surface a few breaths later
and she began to scream, not for her drowned husband, but
for the sudden cramps which were knotting up all of her limbs 
at the major joints. The instructor grabbed her by the hair with
his other hand and began shouting for help at the people he 
saw lounging on the beach..

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris looked up at a sudden shouting from the water. 

Other people in black wets suits and other private 
diving parties had heard it, too, for they began running as 
fast as they could for the foaming surfline. "Dad! Those
three out there are in trouble!" he said pointing out to sea.

"Grab the medical bag, Chris. Bring it with you.." said DeSoto,
leaping to his feet. 

Johnny started to say something, too. "Cap--"

"I know.. Call for help, then grab both oxygen cylinders from
the golf cart. Just get going!" he said, sending Chet along with
them.

Just ahead, they could see a dive instructor dragging a man,
divested of his scuba gear, through the violent surf while 
keeping up his steady artificial respiration. 

The worst victim's color now, was turning blue. 

Gage and Chet ran for him first while a civilian diver from the beach met
up with the struggling second woman fighting the waves a little distance 
away from the others. He picked her up and carried her into shore by piggy 
back.

She went limp in relief as he got hold of her. 

"I got her head." said Roy, reaching him. "Let's get her laid out 
flat on the sand. Raise her feet up as soon as you can."

"Are you a doctor?" asked the woman's rescuer.

"No. We're all firemen. Myself and my partner over there
are paramedics. We can treat them until help arrives using our 
emergency medical kits." DeSoto said, helping the man get her 
out of the water.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The instructor collapsed in exhaustion onto the beach, but waved
Chet away briskly when he saw that Kelly had started over to his side. 
"Just help the diver guy. I'm...ok." he gasped.

Kelly rejoined Johnny over the unconscious man's body. Gage looked
up at him. "He's got no pulse either. Start on him first, Chet. Chris's coming
with an oxygen tank." he said, unzipping the husband's wetsuit to
locate a fast compression landmark. He began some solid CPR.

Kelly stayed on the diver's mouth to mouth, pausing only to drain seawater 
out of the man's nose when whenever it welled up and out of him. Chet noticed
that it was laced with bright blood and pink foam. "He's lung injured, Johnny. If
it's barotrauma or just water inundation, I can't tell."

"Doesn't matter. Just .....keep going. That's not going to........be his only......
problem here." he grunted as he worked. "We've got to.....assume he's
developed....the bends... I think his wife... has, too." he said, looking up 
at Roy where he and Hank knelt in the sand. 

He saw that DeSoto had raised the woman's feet up high on his medical 
pack despite her difficult breathing. ::He's trying to keep nitrogen bubbles 
from traveling up into her brain or heart.:: he thought. Then Johnny 
couldn't afford to consider the other things any more while he concentrated 
on keeping the stricken diver under his hands circulation viable long enough 
for the coming slim chance that a lifeguard's defibrillator might shock 
him back to life.

Dimly, he was aware of Cap relaying to a Baywatch crew and the Coast
Guard, their camping coordinates using VHF Channel 16 over their 
ever present hand held radio. ::We're getting into a habit here with 
calling out for help all the time on vacation now, aren't we?:: his mind 
thought ironically.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roy was smiling at the woman while Cap gently dissuaded her from
pulling off her flowing oxygen mask. "Maam, we're working on your
friend now. He's out of the water. I need you to answer a
few questions for me while I check you out here to determine
your true condition. I'm Roy, a paramedic with the county, and this 
is my fire station's captain, Hank Stanley. Can you tell me who you 
and your friend are at all?" he asked her.

The frightened woman yelled out a reply. "God I hurt!.. Make it stop.
I...can't....br--"

"Easy. Just try to relax. Help's on the way, ma'am." Stanley told her
while he quickly dug a hole for her head so that it would tip
backwards a bit into the sand so that she could breathe a little
better. "There. It'll be easier now. Try to answer Roy again. He 
needs to know how you're doing, ms., in order to treat you using
the best way possible."

The woman began trembling under their hands, but she started 
talking to them a few seconds later. "My ....name's Callie Johnson. 
That's ...*gasp* Scott, my...my......uh,...we're m - married.." she
got out. 

"Ok, good, Callie." said Roy, taking her pulse and respiration count.
When he was through, he asked, "Mrs. Johnson. Can you tell me 
where you are?"

"B--beach. I'm at the..beach." she cried.

"That's right. And what day is it?" Cap asked her, helping 
Roy with gathering details while the paramedic took a fast 
set of bilateral BPs.

"Sunday.."

"Do you remember anything about the dive you were just
doing?" Hank asked her.

The woman's face frowned, the left side of her mouth sagging
a bit, as some new confusion set in. "I was....diving?" she asked 
through the oxygen mask.

The diving instructor, DeSoto and Cap all exchanged glances with 
each other. The woman had a definite neurological deficit building 
up.

Roy pulled the stethoscope out of his ears.
"Ok. Now I want you to follow my finger with your eyes, Callie.
Don't move your head. Do you understand?" asked Roy.
Then aside he said. "Cap, put down the time and these
BP readings on paper. 110/70 on the left side and 90/50 
on the right." he told Hank.

The instructor, watching both groups working nearby, startled.
"She's stroking out?"

"Perhaps not.." said Roy. "It's too soon to tell yet. These signs
just might be temporary effects. How deep were you?"

"Twenty five, maybe thirty feet.." replied the dive instructor. 
"I never take new divers any deeper than that. The risks are 
high enough as they are."

Roy learned Callie tracked visually just fine, without any indication
of doll's sign. "Can you hear these sounds equally?" he said, 
snapping his fingers first over her left ear and then over her right.

"Y--yes.." she gasped, breathing hard. Callie's skin was pale
and slightly blue in the fingernails despite the pure oxygen
upon which she was hyperventilating. 

Hank covered her with a thick layer of beach towels for warmth.

DeSoto reached out for Chris's necklace. It was a vial
of cologne he knew his son was fond of using. He
uncorked it. "Callie, what's this smell?" he asked,
moving her oxygen mask away long enough to wave 
the necklace's vial under her nose. 

Callie couldn't answer him and she shook her head.
"I.....I.....I don't know.." she cried. "How's Scott? I..
I can't see him from here!"

They didn't tell her about him.

DeSoto continued his fine neuro exam. It would save a lot
of time at the hyperbaric decompression center, he
knew, if this was already completed and out of the way.
"Smile for me, Callie, then stick out your tongue."

Callie couldn't on the left side. And her tongue deviated
to the right side corner of her mouth when she thought
that it was sticking out straight.

"That was just a check on certain cranial nerves.
Now, I'm gripping both of your hands." said Roy gently.
"Are you left or right handed?"

"Right.." gasped Callie.

"Ok, so you'll be stronger on that side." Cap continued.
"Squeeze Roy's hands, Callie. Squeeze both of them at 
the same time. Hard as you can."

Callie was about the same in both grips. 

Stanley and Roy tested Callie's body for sensations 
and ability all the way down to her toes. 

They looked at shoulder shrugging, how she could 
push up or down against pressure put to all of her limbs, 
whether or not she could bend her knees or move them 
apart..... 

Then they swept her skin, testing sharp and dull responses
on it using a ball point pen. She did fine there, discerning
normally.

But Callie's Babinski's response was positive, her toes curled 
upward when Roy stroked both feet from heel to toe along 
the bottoms of the young woman's feet. 

They found that Callie could not distinguish between hot or 
cold when they ran either an ice cube or a sun-hot rock along 
her skin anywhere above the waist on her left side. Nor could 
she successfully touch her left index finger to her nose on 
command. Her hand kept arching and going wide, only to hit
the sand next to her head.

"Ok, we've found the data we need to know about." said
Roy after those few minutes. "I've written everything down
for the doctor. He'll be better qualified in psychometric 
medicine than I, Cap." he said to Cap while both firefighters 
monitored the stressed and fleeing reactions coming and 
going on Callie's wind drying face.

Chris was right there, too, holding her good hand to comfort
her, while he kept tabs on what was left of the oxygen tank's
compressed liters as they flowed out to her through their 
high flow mask. "These men are really good at what they do, 
Callie.." he soothed. "I should know. My dad's the 
best paramedic in the county.  Soon, you'll have answers 
for everything that's happening once the doctor begins to 
treat you and your husband."

Roy smiled when he saw his son using a few fingers
to brush away some of the woman's fear with soft gentle 
strokes to her sandy hair.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon, transportation came. It was Baywatch Isthmus, arriving 
by boat after it was decided that even a helicopter flight's low 
altitude would further complicate both victims' already 
bends-aggravated conditions. 

During the whole forty five minute trip to the USC Catalina 
Hyperbaric Chamber, the thirty two foot lifeguard
boat's Cummings diesel engines, were pushed to their fastest
speeds in excess of 30 knots in an attempt to cut down
the Golden Hour that they all knew was playing out.

They reached the west end of the island right at
noon and were met by a crowd of chamber volunteers 
who were on call there twenty four hours a day, seven days
a week for just this sort of diver emergency.

The male diver was whisked away into the first blue painted
chamber while his cardiopulmonary resuscitation was 
continued aggressively. Johnny agreed to join Leo Fishman,
the Baywatch paramedic, in recompressing the man for this 
new attempt to save him. Gage knew that sometimes, on 
occasion, a diver in full arrest could, upon reaching a critical 
pressure in the chamber, regain a pulse. He had seen it 
happen before during other decompression accident sessions 
in his past.

He was banking on that possible effect for the wife's sake.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Callie on the other hand was being told what to expect
before she was loaded up into her own chamber for treatment.

The dive center's doctor explained everything to Callie
while the tank was prepared to receive her and the second 
Baywatch paramedic who would be helping Roy monitor her 
condition during those hours. 
"For your treatment, Mrs. Johnson, this chamber will be compressed 
by sealing its doors and pumping in high-pressure air. 
You'll keep breathing in this pure oxygen as we go along.
The combination of high pressure and increased oxygen levels
will cure you if the hypoxia you've been suffering hasn't been
too severe. These two states will reduce the size of the nitrogen
bubbles you're feeling in your arms and legs and they'll
go a long way towards restoring the circulation to the affected 
areas of your body. Any and all excess nitrogen will be completely 
flushed out of your system.

"You'll be placed inside the chamber in a few minutes, accompanied by these
two men who're trained in hyperbaric first aid.  I'll be present throughout the 
entire treatment, standing just outside, and I'll be watching you through
the window. If you need me, I can enter the chamber via the entry 
lock if you have any questions or concerns at any time. 

"You'll be brought to the equivalent depth of your dive, Callie, where you'll
continue to breathe 100 % oxygen through your mask. Short breaks in the 
oxygen treatment, where you will breathe the compressed air within the chamber, 
are included in this treatment to minimise the risk of what we call
oxygen toxicity, getting too much oxygen in your blood because
of the saturation levels we'll be reaching. The initial treatment lasts 
approximately 4 hours 45 minutes. 

"If no, or only partial improvement is observed in your symptoms then the 
initial treatment can be extended in time until an improvement is seen. 

"If you show signs of deterioration at any point during the initial treatment 
then the chamber operators will change to a different recompression table.  
The length of this recompression treatment can vary, but typically lasts 
between 48 to 72 hours. 

"If your symptoms get more advanced and/or resume to deteriorate, or if the 
record of your diving incident shows that you had severe depth concerns, 
we'll then fill the chamber with a 50:50 Heliox mixture and starting recompressing
you at a depth of 30m until you return to a neurological state as near normal
as possible. Are you ready?" concluded the kind faced doctor.

"I...am.."  Callie paused and took her instructor's hand. "Thank you
for saving me and Scotty. I'm..I'm sorry we screwed up.." she sobbed.

"You didn't. Not from what I saw." said the diver instructor, waiting nearby. 
"Sometimes these things just happen, Mrs. Johnson. And I'll do 
everything in my power to be sure that no mistakes or errors 
were made by anyone concerning your husband's diving gear."

"Ok..It's...*gasp* ok.." Callie sighed, closing her eyes.

Then the injured female diver's care took precedence over 
everything else.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jo Swett and Dr. William Greene popped the champagne cork
soundly.

The portly nurse poured out nine glasses of the bubbly she
had bought at the island market and gave one each to 
the Station 51 gang, themselves, and the last to Chris DeSoto. 
Ian declined her invitation, telling the hospital nurse that he wanted 
to sit out alcohol for the evening so he wouldn't fall asleep
on them and miss something truly fun.

"Here's to your absolutely stellar double save, gentlemen." Jo 
crowed. "Dr. Greene and I are stretching legal confidences a 
little when we say this, but Mr. and Mrs. Johnson are doing fine 
tonight and resting comfortably. In a few weeks time, both of 
them'll be able to continue their vacation where they left off. 
At the beach.."

"Here! Here!" cried all the firemen.  

Chris looked stunned at the drink in his hand, but then he
caught his father's wink.

"Just a sip." Roy said. "Because it's such a special occasion. 
Then give it to Marco. His leg's itching him tonight."

"Ok.. Down the hatch.." said Chris, holding the glass over
his mouth as if he was going to pour the whole thing into
his gullet. But then he desisted, taking only a small taste.
"Thanks, dad." he said, handing the rest of it to a scratching,
grimacing Lopez.

Chet was grimacing, too, for a different reason. "D*mned sunburn.
I forgot how clear the air gets over the island." he said, trying
to reach an itch on his back with a few fingernails.

"I told you to use sunscreen, Chet, but you wouldn't listen to me."
said Roy, grinning.

"No, but I am using Marco's calamine lotion now..." Chet retorted.

"You are?" said Lopez, setting down his empty glass onto
a tabletop. "Chet, that salve's supposed to be just for me.
What am I going to do when it runs out?"

"Use these..." said Bill Greene, handing over a case of new bottles
over to Marco from where it had been sitting behind the couch out 
of sight.

"Gee. Thanks, doc. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. The city's decided to pick up all of your medical bills, 
Marco. Let's just say for services rendered in the line of off-duty 
duty performed by the rest of these fine fellows in your group." he 
winked.

"No kidding..." said Cap, brightening up from his place
on a deck chair near them. The Casino Ballroom was lit
up like a jewel on Avalon's coastline behind him.

"I'm not. " said Bill. "Steve Hoefs lined up getting funds to cover 
them all at City Hall. He did that, in fact, as soon as he heard 
about those two divers you guys helped rescue through Baywatch's 
watch commander." 

"Tell him thanks, doc, from all of us." Lopez said, deeply moved.

"I think he already knows, Marco. He already knows. Firefighters
do read each other's minds sometimes, don't they?" smiled Jo
in amusement. 

 
FIN

Episode Thirty Three

California Dreamin'

Emergency Theater Live

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Roy and Johnny at an airport at night.
 
Photo: Catalina Avalon firemen at night.

Photo:  Chris and Roy treat an old man with O2.

Photo:  Johnny running on top of a plane.

Photo:  1959 Catalina ambulance.

Photo:  A Catalina, Avalon house. 

Photo:  Pounding surf at Avalon Harbor.

Photo:  An Avalon mansion's living room.

Photo:  A diver discovered unconscious underwater.

Photo:  An instructor giving mouth to mouth to a diver.

Photo:  A swimmer carrying out a distressed woman in trouble.
 
Photo:  Distant divers in wetsuits on a beach.

Photo:  An active cardiopulmonary resuscitation attempt.

Photo:  A Baywatch boat landing at a diver rescue chamber.

Photo:  Hyperbaric paramedics and doctors working over a man.

Photo:  Johnny and Roy talking to a blonde haired woman outside.

*********************************************************
Emergency Theater Live�
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

ETL Hosts : Patti Keiper and Erin James in the United States

**Theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com
     Emergency Theater Live� "Offstory" Email Address
     For Midi Music Requests and General Inquiries
 
http://www.voyagerliveaction.com/emergency.html
Emergency Theater Live� Homepage  

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/emergencytheaterlive
Writer's Pre-Production Distribution Site

http://www.myspace.com/emergencyfans
Emergency Theater Live�/Emergency Fans Unite at MySpace

ETL's Emergency Community Forum
http://emergency.tv-series.com/

____________________________________

Mark VII Productions, NBC, and Universal owns
all of Emergency!� and its Characters. 2009�. 
All rights reserved.


=========================

 ***NOTE: All author writings submitted to the 
theater will be set free onto the web to reach as 
many readers as we can manage to find. 
 Contributing to any ETL episode means that 
Voyagerliveaction.com has permission to publish 
your work in the manner presented here on this website 
and on text versions of the stories on other sites. All web 
audience writers or volunteer consultants and their 
corresponding emails will be duly recorded and left in place 
within each show's music and imaged airing episode, 
pointing out that fan or professional EMS personnel's 
creative contribution. 
 
Theater Host-  Emergency Theater Live!�..