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

Emergency Theater Live, Episode Forty Nine

49.  The Helper's High  Season Seven- Episode 49 
 
Short summary-
Bullets fly while Stoker struggles to fill some very large shoes
in the wake of a personnel shortage in L.A. County.



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

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

 


 

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Long Summary-
Resources are stretched thin as LACO helps in a fire storm. Hank suffers
lingering trouble from hitting his head during his days off. The boys
have an interesting encounter with a drunk at a palm tree. After a
fairly quiet night, Marco goes to take the trash out and gets shot
in the hand. Mike has to say a heart breaking good bye to a dear
friend from his military days. On the way to a call the engine has
a run in with a loose log from a logging truck. Hank suffers a severe
closed head injury. Mike is temporarily promoted to Captain in Hank's
absence.Hank is welcomed back with a party full of friends and family.
Mike and Hank share a candid conversation as they raise the flags on
Hank's first day back.


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The Story Unfolds...

Season Six, Episode Forty Nine
 
 §§    The Helper's High   §§
 
Debut Launch: October 1st, 2007. 


************************************************************
From: "Erin J." <etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com>  
and "Patti" <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> in a tandem
story posting. Meeting by Patti, Station Scene by Erin.
Date: Thursday, October 25, 2007 6:46 PM 
Subject: When Brain Cells Die.. 
   
It was very early at Rampart. 

And those available paramedic teams from the county who could attend 
the monthly meeting, were there in chairs already gathered inside of 
Doctor Brackett's office. Roy and Johnny included.

Kel turned his eyes toward the five sets of crews again from the slideshow
he had been concluding about the budget of supply ordering they all
had available that quarter. "I just came across this. I know it is just one study 
and we really can't draw any conclusions right now until more is done, but I 
thought some of you all may have some opinions.." he said, glancing up
as he turned off the projector he had been using.

Someone kicked on the lights in the room and more than one firefighter
squinted painfully at the stimulus, grunting.

Brackett noticed. "I know you're all tired. I'll make this short as possible.
Because quite frankly, I found this new concept rather fascinating." he
admitted with a nod. He set down his chalkboard pointer. "How do we die,
gentlemen?" he said, perching on the edge of his desk, in his labcoat.
"Essentially, what happens when we die of a heart attack?" he challenged.

Rick Minelli, a paramedic from 29's, replied. "Well, if his organs are intact, and
he hasn't lost blood, all that's happened is that his heart has stopped beating." 
he shrugged, half in joke. 

"Yes, all true. But what else?" Kel asked the room. 

No one replied.

Dr. Brackett launched into the vein that had so captivated him at the last
AMA conference. "Okay, so Rick's given us the definition of "clinical death". That
man's brain essentially has shut down to conserve oxygen. But think about it,
what has actually died?"

All the paramedics frowned, beginning to think a bit, unable to think outside the box.

"As recently as 1973, the conventional answer was that it was when his cells had died. 
A cardiac arrest patient in that state can't be revived because the tissues of his brain 
and heart has suffered irreversible damage from lack of oxygen. As you all know, that
dying process is understood to begin after just four or five minutes." Kel shared. 
"If the patient doesn't receive cardiopulmonary resuscitation within that time, and if his 
heart can't be restarted soon thereafter, he is unlikely to recover. True?"

The firefighters in the room muttered in agreement. 

Kel went on. "That dogma went unquestioned until last month." Brackett said, holding
up a pointing finger. "Researchers actually looked at oxygen-starved heart cells under a 
microscope at the University, and what they saw ...amazed them. According to Dr. Lance 
Becker, an authority on emergency medicine, found that after one hour, he couldn't see 
evidence the heart cells or any body cells at that point, had died."

Gage's mouth flopped open and he uncrossed his leg from his knee. "What? That's 
impossible." he said numbly. "With no breathing or pulse he should have b--"

Brackett began to chuckle. "We thought they'd done something wrong, too. So we checked, 
too. On our own donors to science. It is a fact, all cells cut off from their blood supply died 
only hours later in their petris dishes."

Roy was stunned. "But.. if the cells are still alive, why can't doctors revive someone who has 
been dead for an hour?" he said, making the ironic connection. 

Kel's face grew serious. "Because once the cells have been without oxygen for more 
than five minutes, they die when their oxygen supply is resumed with any aggressive
resuscitation activity done by us, as first responders."

The room erupted in dismay and shocked babble. Johnny flushed, unpleasantly discomforted.
And he looked to Roy, who was surprisingly vocal along with the others.

Kel hushed them down. "This is why I'm sharing everything we're learning about this
phenomena with you today. We may be on the cresting edge of one of medicine's newest 
frontiers: treating... the dead."

Dr. Brackett's paramedic teams returned to their seats, their coffee cups long forgotten.

They listened as their medical director went over the stunning fix for the facts they just
couldn't believe.  Kel didn't abuse their wounded senses. He told it like it was.
"This new view of cell death suggests the process is not passive extinguishment, like a 
candle flickering out when you cover it with a glass, but an active biochemical event 
triggered by "reperfusion," or the resumption of an oxygen supply." Dr. Brackett
sat down next to Johnny and engaged his worried eyes. "We know that mitochondria 
control the process known as apoptosis. This is the programmed death of abnormal cells 
that is the body's primary defense against cancer. Only now, it looks to us," said Kel. "as 
if that cellular surveillance mechanism cannot tell the difference between a cancer cell and 
a cell being reperfused with oxygen. Something throws the switch that makes the cell die
right then. And gentlemen, with this realization comes another.. That standard emergency
room procedure has it exactly backwards when it comes to how to revive someone."

"The process for us as doctors and paramedics are still remaining the same." Brackett
pursed his lips. "Say someone collapses on the street of cardiac arrest, and if he's lucky, 
he will receive immediate CPR from some of you in those first minutes, maintaining 
circulation until he can be revived in the hospital. But what about the rest who have been
gone 10 or 15 minutes or more without a heartbeat by the time they reach the emergency 
department? What happens then? Consider our discovery about those cells. What happens?"

DeSoto's face solidified. "We give them oxygen," Roy whispered. "We jolt the heart with
the paddles, we pump in epinephrine to force it to beat, so it's taking up more oxygen." 

Brackett stayed silent, and grinned levelly, without joy. "And his blood-starved heart muscle 
is suddenly flooded with oxygen, precisely the situation that leads to cell death."

Gage was bothered, greatly. "But he's.. he's dead, right? No hope of recovery by.. by ..
by anyone's standards. At least, that's what the books tell us.."

Kel's eyes sparkled with a glowing fire of passion. "And that's what Doctors' Morton, Early
and myself are looking to change, someday. We want to aim on reducing the oxygen uptake,
slow metabolism in these long time but not yet clinically dead people, and adjust their blood 
chemistry for gradual and safe reperfusion of oxygen. And we are experimenting with that
by using chilling measures along with the prompt use of a heart lung machine.."

"Isn't that a little expensive?" asked Rick.

"What isn't in medicine nowadays?" Dr. Brackett shrugged.

"Insurance covers a lot of resuscitation care I've found." said Roy. "No one usually minds.."
he said, remembering from the time he had been resuscitated from electrical shock from
a roofing wire. "...when a life's on the line." he agreed.

Kel shared the rest of his news. "Our new study has so far involved just thirty four patients, 
but 80 percent of them were discharged from the hospital.... alive. In the old study of 
traditional methods, that figure is still hovering at about 15 percent."

"Wow." said Johnny, stunned. 

Brackett nodded. "It seems that lowering body temperature from 37 to 33 degrees Celsius
appears to slow the chemical reactions touched off by reperfusion that triggers cell death.
We're working on developing an injectable slurry of salt and ice to cool the blood quickly 
that one day, I hope to make part of your standard emergency-response kits."
Brackett concluded. "That's all I have this month. Stay safe out there fellas."

It was very heavy food for thought for all as the squad teams left for their trucks and
the streets.

"Think of the implications, Roy." Gage said, when they were back cruising their route
for the station.

"I'm trying not to. Not too deeply. Just think how many folks are going to die now after
that ten or fifteen minute pulseless mark,... because of us." he said soberly.

Gage was quiet for a long time. But then he tried again. "Dead's dead
right then, Roy, in those situations. Just think of it this way, if we don't try 
something. They're dead for sure anyways."

Roy finally relaxed, seeing the wisdom of Johnny's words. 

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

Johnny and Roy returned from the paramedic meeting with Brackett. Roy 
commented, “I’ll be honest with you, that’s one of the more informative 
meetings we’ve had in a long time.” 

Johnny said, “You know it, partner. Definitely a lot of new stuff to think about.”

The guys walked into the kitchen and were greeted by the rest of A shift. 
Stoker was manning the coffee pot and asked, “You boys want a cup?”

Roy replied, “Sure.”

Johnny added, “Sounds good. The coffee at Rampart was mud today. I think 
one of the students made it.”

Mike brought over the coffee as Marco finished setting the table. It was a 
simple breakfast of eggs on English muffins with bacon on the side. Hank 
let the boys eat a bit before he started. “All right guys, before we get into 
breakfast and how our days off went, let me touch on a couple of things 
from the department.” 

Everybody continued eating but now turned their attention to Hank as they 
did. Hank continued, “First and foremost, equipment is going to be 
stretched thin for a while. Most of the county went down to help in San 
Diego with the fiery mess down there. Which means we’re going to have 
more ground to cover then normal so stay on your toes, boys. It’s gonna 
be a long shift. Secondly, the inspection that was scheduled to happen 
later today has been postponed since Chief was called down to San Diego, 
too.” he snorted. 

Marco chuckled. 

“Now for the chores. Marco, you’re cooking again. Chet you’ve got your office..."

Kelly grimaced and rolled his eyes about having to clean the bathrooms.

Stanley ignored him.
"Mike, check out Big Red. I have a feeling we’ll be giving her quite a workout. 
Johnny, the dayroom and sweep out the bay, pal. Roy, the dorms are yours.”

The guys finished their food and were all nursing their second cups of 
coffee when Hank finished the official stuff. “Now that that’s all taken care 
of, how was everybodys' days off?” 

Mike started, “Quiet for the most part, the kids weren’t home, so my wife and 
I caught up on some much needed 'us' time.” Chet grinned wolfishly. Mike 
cut him off before he could say anything, “No, Chet, I’m not giving the details 
out.”

Chet groaned as everybody chuckled. Roy said, “Busy as usual, huh?" he quipped
at Stoker. "Me, too. Chris won his baseball game yesterday and my youngest helped 
Joanne in the kitchen while I tackled the honey to do list.” 

Johnny said, “Hey, Roy, I helped, too.” he complained.

Roy chuckled, “Oh, yeah. We promised Johnny some of Joanne’s 
home cooking if he helped. Needless to say my honey to do list for  
next month should be quite short. Thanks, Johnny."

Johnny grinned, “Before I helped Roy, I actually went on a bit of a hike. Felt 
good. Haven’t been up to the mountains in a while. I kept an eye on the news 
and figured if I didn’t hike then, I might not get the chance to for quite a while.”
he said, jerking a finger over to the TV set displaying brush fire news in 
the neighboring county that they were all not paying attention to.

Hank smiled, “Good idea, pal.”

Mike looked over at Hank, “So Cap, what did you do with your days off?”

Hank’s grin quickly turned to a blush. “Uh,.. nothing, nothing at all.”

Chet cut in, “Cap, with that look, I’d say either tell us now or the Phantom 
will find out on his own.” 

Hank knew Chet was right, “Well, my mother in law is in, but mercifully left 
me alone for the most part. I took care of MY honey to do list and then took 
my wife out to dinner.” Hank’s blush deepened, “We... decided to add some 
extra spice to the evening and went upstairs when we got home.  Yeah, note 
to self : Play nice when mother in laws are around. We got a little carried away 
as we were, um,... seasoning a little, and broke the bed." he said, stretching
a little stiffly, rubbing his neck. "My mother in law heard the crash and instead 
of wanting to know if we were okay, just yelled because we woke her up. So 
now we need a new bed and I could personally use an iron lock to keep her 
out of the house from now on.”

As much as they tried to hold the laughter back, the guys lost it when Hank 
finished his story. Luckily, they had finished their coffee so they didn’t redecorate 
the kitchen table, but everybody WAS laughing so hard, that they had tears 
in their eyes. 

Then the tones rang out.

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

Photo: Paramedics in attendance at a meeting with Kel Brackett.

Photo:  Brackett, chiding remark in his office.

Photo: Gage all flustered in a Rampart chair.

Photo:  Roy stunned at a meeting, close.

Photo: Two fellow paramedics, talking at a session.

Photo: Chet, Stoker and Marco doing chores in the bunk room.

Photo:  Stoker serving food to Roy and Johnny.

Photo:  Cap, serious expression, close.

Photo:  Stoker throwing on a turnout jacket, making for the engine.

************************************************** 
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> 
Date: Thu Nov 1, 2007 1:17 pm 
Subject: The Fiery Display.. 

##Station 51. Snorkle Nine. Unknown type fire. 713 North Wilson. 
713 North Wilson. Cross street Hazeltine. Time out : 9:06.## said
L.A. after the klaxon had sounded.

"Let's go. Marco, turn the stove off." Cap said as he rose from his chair with
less than his normal alacrity and a huge yawn.

Chet noticed. "Still a little stiff?" he teased Hank as the two of them hurried out.

"Nothing a hot shower won't fix later on, I'm sure." Cap grinned.

"Or a cold one." Kelly chittered in amusement under his breath as he yanked 
open the rear door of the Ward. 

Mike Stoker had already taken the wheel. "It's about five miles away, Cap." he
said to Stanley.

"Well, that's nice for once." Cap sighed. "Fire can't spread that far in just two 
minutes. Use your best judgement on our speed. The squad'll no doubt clear 
the way ahead of us like usual."

"I'll airhorn at every intersection." Stoker decided.

"Yep. Good plan. That was smart thinking." agreed Hank as he leaned forward
to put his white striped black helmet onto his head.

Both trucks pulled out code three onto the boulevard. Lights and sirens
cleared the road of traffic as they headed towards their destination.

In the cab, Cap realized that they had no forewarned advantage as they got closer 
and closer to their assigned address. "Keep heading north. We'll approach this
from upwind standard since we aren't going to be able to see any telltale smoke
until we're on top of it." he said, eyeing up the interfering cloud of brush fire 
smoke rising up on the horizon in the next county behind the sprawl of suburban 
businesses that they were passing. "There's too much debris already in the air."

Kelly tipped near their ears over the roar of the sirens.
"It's amazing that anybody's still breathing down here today, Cap. With the smog 
this bad, I won't be surprised at all if the squad gets called away to a respiratory 
emergency before we're done with this fire one..." said Chet. "..whatever it is."

They rounded the block following Squad 51 and immediately slowed when they saw
what had to be their target. Roy and Johnny were already getting out and into their
turnout jackets. Their heads were angled upwards, in between two tall apartment
buildings just emptying of distressed pajama'ed residents.

Mike Stoker started laughing. "A cinder fire. Up there." he said pointing to something
smoking and moving in the breeze above a picnic table.

A palm tree was fully involved in its crown. Mike politely moved through the crowd
of growing numbers of morning clothed people in their curlers, T-shirts and boxers
in order to get to the hydrant in their midst at the base of it. 

A panicky auntie type old woman hollered. "What is it?! I don't see anything on 
the roof.." she exclaimed for the fifty or so others who milled about as the fire
alarm continued to sound inside the two apartment buildings.

Marco explained, helping Stoker unscrew a cover on the hydrant to turn on the
pressure with his hydrant wrench. "It's just a tree fire, ma'am. Your buildings 
aren't involved at all. They're fine." he explained as he watched Cap jog back to
the engine to call off the snorkle and update L.A. to the situation.

Roy and Johnny joined the firefighters once the hose had been set up from the 
reel line. They parked next to Lopez, Cap and Stoker while Chet milled about 
in a self chosen job of calming the neighbors and turning off the fire panels inside
the entryways closest to the courtyard where they were all standing.

Roy smiled. "I wonder what set that off." he said, eyeing up the spectacular tree of
fire. It looked for all the world like a flaming lollipop.

Stoker grinned pointing towards the mountains. "Do you feel the Santa Anas any more
stinging your face?" he joked. 

Roy concentrated. "Hey yeah, it's dead calm."

Gage started chuckling. "Well, I'll be. Don't tell me a spark settled up there from that 
fire that's still miles away.."

Kelly rubbed his nose, already bored. "More like dozens of miles. Johnny. And just a 
lucky ember, too, to land in some dry fronds skirting the top."

A commotion attracted them as a woman in a gaudy pink robe met them.
"Oh, the poor tree." said the old aunt in her pink curlers. "Will it survive after burning up
so bad?"

Roy politely tipped his helmet. "I don't see why not. Palms are monocots, just like corn. And
just as pithy. This tree could react like the fire was actually a drought and resprout its leaves
again with a little extra water."

"But the ban.." she fussed, showing them the notice the city fire department had posted
in their yard on the fence.

Hank noticed her worry. "Tell you what. Once we strip away the blackened sooty parts
still smoking up there, we'll give it a good dousing around the roots before we leave, 
okay?" he said to her.

"Oh, what nice young men. Yes, captain. I'm sure our tree would like that very much." she 
said with a face shaking nod of gratitude that shook her ample jowls. "A long drink of 
water. It must be even thirstier now." she said as Stoker expertedly snuffed the flames and 
pulled down the ruined, charred palm leaves so Marco could stomp out remaining sparks.

Hank eyed up what was left of the trunk and its upper tip, poking up forlornly into the sky.
"I'm sure we can fix the problem, ma'am." he said diplomatically. "Why don't you just return
back to your apartment and fix yourself a nice cup of tea while we clean the rest of t-"

Chet's amused informative chatter gave way to a shout of authority. "Hey, DeSoto, Gage, 
get over here! Come quick!"  He was near what was a picnic table area in the middle of 
the huge crowd of people still not convinced that the fire danger was over.
"I've found a man down. I think he's unconscious!"

Gage's head snapped around. "Chet? I'll get the gear!" he said, hurrying back towards 
the squad.

Hank used his tall height and large bulk to make his way through the crowd of apartment 
dwellers until he reached Kelly's side. "What's the problem? A cardiac?" he said, quickly
confirming a pulse at their patient's neck. 

Chet straightened up from the respirations he had been checking on a young teen male who 
was still seated upright in a lawn chair. His lower half was covered in a beach towel while his 
upper half was curiously decorated with an odd kind of sculpture.

"Is he plastered?" Roy asked, seeing what Chet and Cap had seen, as he squatted down 
next to the teenager, who was snoring loudly, in a condition that was far deeper than sleep.

"With that kind of signature left behind by his friends? I'd say so." Chet stated seriously.

A stack of empty beer cans was balancing neatly in a tower rising up from the middle of the drunk
boy's forehead. DeSoto sighed and knocked them off so he could better monitor his patient's face.
"Looks like it. Cap, he's breathing normal." DeSoto announced after listening for a few seconds.
"I'll start him on O2, precautionary." he said, turning on the flow on the tank he had brought.

"Try to wake him, too. Maybe his friends'll step forward before he can rat on them about partying
out here in the courtyard all night. That way, we'll learn an identity and maybe the full story." Hank 
said. "I'll call the police for him only if I have to."

"You read my mind." DeSoto sighed, tipping the man's head back farther so his snoring ended.

Stanley nodded. "L.A., Engine 51. Respond an ambulance to our location. We've a teen down
with an altered level, involving possible alcohol ingestion."

Johnny hurried up with all the critical case gear:  the defib, biophone, drug and I.V. boxes. "Roy?"
he asked, eyeing up their patient. 

DeSoto finally grinned as he began opening up the passed out man's shirt. "He's fine. 
Can't you tell by the unpanicking reactions of all his neighbors? So far, I'm just smelling 
ETOH on board. And our neuro check is coming right up.." he began as he rubbed a firm 
set of knuckles hard into the young man's sternum.

The kid woke up with exaggerated startlement, his arms and legs flailing like a puppet. "Whaa?
Not an--anoth...ne, Brandonnn ugh... I's I've.. had enuff.." he declared. His face fell into one of 
confusion at the hissing oxygen mask he found sitting over his nose and mouth. He coughed,
pulling it off. "Whoa." he said, looking up and seeing the smoking black stump of a tree 
a short distance away. "Did I do something bad last night that I can't remember?" he
mumbled, speaking almost clearly.

Johnny chuckled. "Nothing past excessive drinking. You're innocent of arson if that's what
you're wondering. How do you feel now?" He said, putting the oxygen back on.

The teen turned green. "Rotten. Thanks for making me th- think about it."

Roy inquired gently, looking down. "Just the beer?"

"Yeah..." the kid moaned. "I feel like I'm gonna puke for a week."

An angry mother stepped forward. "Good. And I hope you've learned your lesson, Charles
Emerson Baxter. You should know better than to raid your father's cooler when he's working.
And you're still underage! What's got into your head you fool boy? Now look what you've done.." 
she said, pointing to the luckless tree and the pile of beer cans littering the ground around 
his chair and the bright red flash of lights bathing them from both fire trucks.

Hank raised his hand, "Uh, ma'am. The wind's to blame for the fire."

The irate mother held up an equally commanding hand.

"But he IS to blame for THIS kind of blaze." she said pointing to her angry features with 
an elegant fingernail. "Is my son gonna get it when his father comes home." she promised.
"So no, don't treat him for anything. I want him to feel every pounding moment of
that hangover he's brought on himself, and then some." she said, pulling off the teenager's
rich oxygen supply with a snap of its elastic strap.

Johnny winced almost as bad as the boy.

"Okay. Just sign right here." Cap said, taking the A.M.A. form Gage had pulled out of
the drug box's base compartment to hand to him. "This cancels our care, and the 
ambulance."

"Ambulance?!" the mother sputtered. "Oh, Charles, you are in worse trouble now. You're
bothering these fire department paramedics, too?" she said, signing her name to the 
signature line with an angry rip of Johnny's green pen that she had 'borrowed' with an 
abrupt snatch from where it rested in his shirt pocket. "Now get up. I don't care if you
fall down again. On your feet right this instant. You're gonna drag yourself inside, wash 
yourself up, and get right into your bed. When you're sober, YOU'RE the one who's 
gonna call up school and tell them why you weren't in today."

The teen rose with alacrity, swaying a bit, but fully conscious. Roy and Johnny's vigil
dropped. "He's not intoxicated to a life threatening level, Cap. We can clear." Johnny
told Hank as they watched the mother lead her tipsy son off by the ear.

"Okay. Marco, Chet, toss the debris into the dumpster. Leaves, beer cans and all. Make
it neat. Stoker, reel the hose back up if you're sure the tree's out for good."

"It is." Mike promised. "She's good and floating even." he said with a wink for the tree loving
senior.

Cap got back on his walkie talkie. "L.A. Engine 51. This palm tree fire's fully extinguished. 
No arson investigation needed. It's confirmed natural causes."

##Engine 51, L.A.. 10-4. Time cleared at : 9: 44.##

Chet saundered back after making sure that every last person in the crowd understood
that things were completely safe. "So..." he said, rubbing his hands to warm them.
"Chuck didn't upchuck." he said grandly to the paramedics amicably.

"Nope." giggled Gage.

"But he will later." Chet said. "And I'm speaking from experience here." he said.

Gage laughed out loud. "You? Having a past reputation as a party animal? That'll be
the day." 

"It's all true. Just ask my sister next time you see her."

"No thanks.." Roy teased. "Some things a guy just doesn't need to know. Like our
mutual conversation topic of this morning..." he prodded.

"Hey...I didn't pry." Kelly said, grinning as he got back into the engine for the trip home.
He shut the door behind himself soundly.

Gage glanced up at Hank and Roy. "Well, maybe somedays, he DOES learn." he
said in amazement.

"Enjoy it while it lasts.." said Cap, rubbing his tired eyes. "Okay, that's good. Call us
in as returning to base, Roy, would ya? I wanna write this report now while I can still
recall all the gory details." he quipped with a roll of sarcastic eyes. "Guess I'm getting
a little fuzzy because I'm still hungry." he said.

"Eating'll fix that, Cap. All right, I'll call in for ya." said DeSoto, closing the last lock on the 
store compartments holding their gear. "Johnny, are ya ready?"

Gage nodded and for an answer, leaped into the squad cab eagerly, thinking of the 
hot breakfast they had all had to abandon.

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

Photo:  Mike Stoker standing by the Ward Engine.

Photo:  A fire in a palm tree.

Photo:  Cap, Roy in helmets, looking down.

Photo:   A drunk teen, with a stack of beercans on his forehead.

Photo:   Stoker, Gage and Chet in turnouts by the engine.

Photo:   Three witnesses watching a scene.

Photo:   A good close up of Mike Stoker.

**************************************************
From: Erin James (etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com) 
Subject: Bunch Brunch
Sent: Thu 11/01/07 8:25 PM 

Mike turned his attention back to the road. Cap for his part was trying to 
ignore the road and the rather short, but unpleasant report ahead of him.

In the squad, both Johnny and Roy were thinking about breakfast. 

Johnny said, "Hey partner, you mind if we eat before we write?"
 
Roy smiled, "Not at all. I'm thinking everybody's still hungry, too."
 
Any further reply from Johnny was cut off as both trucks backed into the station. 
The trucks emptied and Marco asked, "Okay, who can handle what today?"
 
Hank replied, "I'm game for anything but a lot of spice. It's still a bit early for that."
 
Marco smiled. He knew his crew mates didn't have quite the stomach he 
did for spices. "Not a problem, Cap."
 
Mike said, "We might as well start knocking out the chores while Marco cooks. 
Marco, I'll be out here. If you need anything. Just holler."
 
"Will do." said Lopez.
 
The crew broke up. Hank grumbled over his lack of food. ::All right stomach, 
I'm listening.!:: he thought. He grabbed a can of soda from the fridge in the 
kitchen then headed for his office. :: To write that blasted report.:: 
Hank grumbled as he sat down. "Paperwork. Way too much paperwork. Even 
on the small calls." He started in, highly distracted by his growling guts.
 
At the same time, the rest of the crew decided to tackle their chores. They 
knew they'd have to be ready for a lot more than usual, so the guys quickly 
went to work on their chores. 

Marco looked through the slim pickings in the kitchen and decided to pull together 
a hearty but mild brunch. He started whistling as he decided his plans.

Once he was done detailing Big Red, Mike walked into the dayroom to check 
on the fires. It looked like all of Santa Barbara County was working them on
the news that was still broadcasting the event live.

Forty-five minutes after the crew arrived back, brunch was ready. 
Marco walked out into the bay and yelled, "Chow's up."
 
That brought the stampeding feet of the others in. Hank still wasn't
smiling as he trailed in last.
 
Nearby, as he sat at the table, Roy noticed the news, "Anything good, Mike?"
 
Stoker grimaced, "They still can't really contain the beast. And they think it 
might be arson. Although it's a bit too soon to tell."
 
Johnny groaned and shook his head, "Oh, that's just lovely." Johnny quickly 
set the table as Roy got the drinks. "Those are the worst kind."

"Nothing for us today though. Glad it's them." Stanley mumbled sternly.
 
Roy cast a look towards Hank, who was quietly eyeing up the rolls.
"Ok, guys. I'm just a bit more grumpier than normal today. Didn't eat quite as 
much as I should have before work." Hank admitted, apologizing.
 
"That's okay, Cap." Kelly dismissed, still mesmerized by the TV set.
 
The guys sat down to a large brunch of eggs, bacon, chicken fried steak and 
gravy, and steamed vegtables. Chet smiled, "Jeepers, Marco, maybe we 
should have brunch more often." he said when the smell finally captured his
full attention.
 
Marco smiled, "Nah, mi amigo, this is just because..." He cut himself short 
because he didn't want to jinx the shift as a long or bad one. The others 
understood and didn't say anything else.
 
When the guys were mostly done, and with his hunger gone, Hank asked, "Roy, 
Johnny, anything interesting out of the meeting this morning?"
 
Roy said, "Mostly the same old stuff, but Brackett did come up with a very
interesting story."
 
"Oh?" said Stanley, leaning on his elbows tiredly.
 
Johnny replied, "Yeah."
 
Chet whined, "Well, spit it out, Gage."
 
"All right, Kelly, don't get your bunkers in a knot."  Johnny took a quick drink of 
milk. "He told us that rewarming a victim is one of the most hazardous aspects 
of hypothermia because the cold-constricted capillaries can open all at once, 
causing a sudden drop in blood pressure."

Roy nodded, adding more. "And that the heart, still cold, can lapse into deadly 
spasms."

Lopez piped up. "Oh, I've heard about that.  Wasn't it just last year, when a crew of 
shipwrecked Catalina fishermen were hauled to safety after spending an hour and 
a half in the winter sea? The news said they stepped below deck for a hot 
drink, and dropped dead, all sixteen of them."
 
The rest of the engine crew were stunned and amazed. Chet couldn't pass up the 
opportunity, "A hot drink and drop dead, huh..  Gage did you make them 
something that day?" 
 
Roy, Marco, Mike and Hank groaned. It was going to be a long shift if the 
kid sides of Johnny and Chet were starting in early. 
 
Johnny didn't miss a beat. "Nah, Kelly. They had must have had some of 
your 'healthy' cooking." he said without changing his expression or looking up.

Chet's jaw snapped shut, for once, unable to think of a reply. 
 
Roy lifted his coffee cup in salute, "Ah, the pigeon is sharp this morning."
he grinned at his partner.
 
"Told ya I cleared my head in the mountains. Yeah, I'm sharp." Gage said
to DeSoto.

Chet groaned as the guys laughed good naturedly when Johnny pretended
to slick back his hair with style.
 
Once everybody was done eating, Marco asked, "Anybody want 
seconds?" 

Varied "no thanks but it was amazing" replies rang out. Marco smiled 
and started to clear the table. The others headed over to catch up on the 
news while they still could. 
 
But they didn't get the time. Just as Marco finished washing the last dish, the 
klaxon rang out again. Hank muttered, "At least we were able to finish a meal this 
time." he added as the crew headed out for the apparatus bay.

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

Photo: Roy and Johnny in the squad, driving.

Photo:  The gang piling out of the vehicles in the bay.

Photo:  Cap working on a report in his office.

Photo:  Marco with a cooking pan, grinning big.

Photo:  Cap watching Gage stuff his face.

Photo:  Chet commenting on Johnny while eating.

Photo:  Johnny eating a plateful of eggs, in a med shot.

Photo:  Roy smiling at Stoker.
 

**************************************************
Subject: The Last Hours
From: crash200225 (crash200225@yahoo.com) 
Sent: Fri 11/02/07 9:48 PM 
 

It didn't take long for the engine and squad to respond to the 
address for an 'unknown type rescue'. The small house and yard had 
seen better days, but still had the feel of a well loved home.

A woman appeared on the porch as the sirens announced Station 51's 
arrival. 

"What do you want?" The woman demanded the moment Cap started up the 
walkway. "I didn't call you."

"We had a report of someone needing help here." replied Cap kindly 
as the others came up to the porch. "Is everything all right?" 

"Nosy neighbors..." the woman mumbled, then sighed. "Thanks for 
coming, but there is nothing you can do. Everything that can be 
done, has been done."

Just as Cap opened his mouth to ask what she meant, a loud alarm came 
from inside the house. The woman flew back into her home, leaving 
the door open. Roy and Johnny both knew the sound well. They had 
heard it at Rampart and it wasn't good. They all entered the open 
door.

It was a bit of a surprise see a well equipped hospital room in what 
once must have been the living room. The woman was standing by the 
hospital bed, her back to the men. "It's okay, Harry. I'm here. 
You pulled one of the EKG leads off again. Did you get jealous 
because I was talking to a bunch of good looking firemen?"

A half choking, half chuckle came from the man in the bed.

"Ma'am, we are paramedics..." Roy began, but was cut off.

"I know what you are, but you aren't taking him to the hospital." 
the woman stated. "He has end-stage cancer and only a day left, 
maybe a few hours. He wants to die at home, not in some sterile 
hospital. We've been in too many of them over the last two years. 
You can't have him, not now."

The woman was getting agitated and bordering on hysterics when Mike 
stepped up. "Barb? It's me, Mike."

"M..Mike?" stuttered Barb. "You can't let them take Harry. You 
know when he started treatments that I promised him if they didn't 
work, I'd be with him in the end at home. You can't take him!"

"The three of us have been friends for a long time. I know what 
Harry wants. We talked about it before...." said Mike in a calm 
voice, while looking at Cap. "... well, the last time we beached it 
in the dune buggy. Why don't we go into the kitchen and get a glass 
of water. You need to sit down for a minute. Roy and John will 
watch after Harry for a few minutes."

Cap nodded his approval as Mike led Barb to another room. She was 
crying and holding onto Mike's arm like it was her lifeline. The 
whole time she muttered sadly, "You can't have him." over and over 
again like a mantra.

Roy decided they would contact Rampart after Johnny checked the 
machines hooked up to the dying man. Chet stood by to assist if 
needed, while Marco and Cap went to see about Mike and Barb. 

Cap wondered. ::How close was his engineer to this couple? Why 
hadn't he mentioned having a friend who was so ill?::

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

Photos: None.

**************************************************
From: "Erin J." <etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com>
and "Patti" <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> in 
a tandemly written story posting.
Date: Sun Nov 18, 2007 5:03 pm 
Subject: The Final Fight

When the others were gone, Roy and Johnny made a point
to minimize their presence officially by leaving their medical
gear sitting by the front door, unopened.

A slight gesture with their eyes, set Chet Kelly to guard and
attend it until they could learn about any existence of legal
papers concerning the terminally ill man.

When Gage folded up his stethoscope and stuffed it into
his jacket pocket, the pale eyes physically relaxed around 
their pain. A feeble hand tapped the bed, twice, in
unmistakable invitation.

Smiling gently, both firemen took off their helmets and set
them onto their laps so they could sit on either side of the
bed's edges, to join him.

Roy dropped all formality and adopted an open and honest
candidness while Johnny instinctively eyed up the treatment 
measures in place discreetly. "So, it's been a long time."
DeSoto said in greeting.

Harry managed to cough. "L-Long enough. I.. I've finally
accepted the facts.. the way they are. My....only regret, is
that she's--  Nothing now, makes her happy any more."
he said weakly. 

Gage absently tapped the regulator on the flowing oxygen
tank, adding comfort for comfort's sake to his laboring lungs.
"You must love Barb very much to be fighting so long."

The man's eyes darted for the first time from their tightened
false calm to the door through which his wife had been led.
"Oh, yes.." he said, tearing up. "Very much. But we...both
know it's time."  His voice cut off as a spasm of pain wracked
his body. He grimaced.

Gage gripped his hand, offering its warmth to the bony fingers,
offering serenity in his face. "Is it too bad right now?"

Again, the head pressed against the ample pillows, and nodded
yes. "But I don't want her to see it. " he begged. "This has been 
such a...horrible disease. She's....so delicate."

Roy smiled, finally deciding that the cancer was in his bones.
"I only wish my wife, were half as devoted." DeSoto whispered
kindly.

A laughing glimmer of affection made it past the pain in the  
bright blue of the man's eyes. "Barb's my life. Still is...  And I'm 
only afraid of the past tense she'll have to start telling folks about
me, tomorrow." Harry gasped. "I know she's gonna hurt, even 
worse than I do now."

DeSoto refolded a blanket that had fallen in Barb's haste to return
order to the monitors methodically displaying Harry's core vitals. "Where's
your nurse? You've several venous catheters from what we can see."
Roy wondered a moment, before pulling the sheet back up under the 
man's chin, to rewarm him.

Harry cackled wetly.
"Sent away. There's.. there's no point is there? Someone like that nurses
life and I'm a hopeless case. She was nineteen, fresh out of her clinicals, 
far too innocent for me. I was to be her first loss. We decided we 
didn't want to be her number one." said the man. "That wouldn't be
a good legacy at all."

Roy nodded respectfully, taking full measure of the man's pain on his soul.
He noticed what Johnny was doing. And approved. Then he spoke. "Nothing
will be set before Barb, that she can't handle, because life just doesn't ever
work that way. For anybody. And I sincerely believe that." DeSoto told Harry
softly.

Sudden bright tears flooded anew in the dying man's eyes. "Ah, but she's
going to be so lonely without me." he sobbed, his veneer of strength cracking.

Gage flipped a switch to silence the tachycardia alarm, before it went off
as the pulse he could barely feel under Harry's sweaty skin began to race.
He had noticed the collection of framed pictures surrounding the bed, and
over the burning logs in the fire place. "She'll have the kids. They're not here
now, but they will be. For the both of ya, right?"

Harry's face faltered with remembered sting. "I asked them not to come. 
Not until after. I don't want my grandkids to see me this way as their
strongest memory of me. They're all still too young to ....understand what
death is.." he declared.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marco walked into the kitchen not long after Mike and Barb.

 Mike said, "Hey, pal."

"Hey Mike, you doing okay?"

"Yeah. Barb, let me introduce you to somebody. This is Marco Lopez, our 
shift's resident chili expert."

Barb smiled sadly, "Good to meet you Marco. Just wish it was under better 
circumstances." She offered them glasses of water from the sink, still
actively fretting as she paced back and forth.

Marco said, "So do all of us ma'am trust me." he said, passing on the offer.

Barb and Mike both drank their water. Near them, Cap stayed quiet and kept 
an eye on both of them, just in case.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Roy deftly adjusted the crooked oxygen cannula in the man's nose. Then
he busied himself with refilling its port's humidifier on the wall with a pitcher
of saline that had been resting nearby on a homemade table. "They'll be here
tomorrow then." DeSoto told him, not looking away. "Helping her every step
of the way, once you're apart." He squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Sir, I wouldn't
worry about anything at all about them. Barb'll be well cared for."

Gage let go of the man's hand and folded it carefully back onto its cushion.
"What do you want, for right now?  That, you can do, and control." he joked.

Harry seemed to grow more transparent as his defensive smile faded and
as his heart continued to struggle with both the cancer and his warring emotions.
"Help me fight." he said at last. "For just a little while longer." he pleaded. "I..I-I
don't want her to know, ...how hard it's been."

Johnny rubbed his mouth, growing uncomfortable. "You mean, you want some
kind of pain med from us?" he stated, realizing the risks.

Harry nodded. "Can you? I can't hide it any more. I just don't have the strength 
left."

Roy swallowed, but still kept smiling faintly."Sir, you know if we do anything
intravenously, we'll have to transport you."

The man's machines protested in response. "Can't you make an exception in
my case?"

"That depends on a couple of things that we don't have the authority ourselves
to decide." Gage told him, still disturbed.

Harry interpretted Johnny's expression accurately. "Look, I'm not asking you to
kill me. Quite the opposite. I just want to end this new pain."

Johnny's face stiffened into neutrality. "I'm sorry, sir, but we can't. Not in your 
current condition, you'll pass out and perhaps not wake up again. Do you want 
that?"

Harry melted visibly.

Gage shared more bad news. "If your primary physician's decided that your I.V.
pump running now, is where it's supposed to be, then he's the only one who can
change it."

"He's out of town! I've... I'm going a lot faster than any of us ever realized. Guess 
it's from all the stress."

Johnny sighed, unsure of what to say but very clear on what position they had to 
take. So he took it to the next level. "Sir, do you have do not resuscitate orders?" 
he asked bluntly.

Harry was growing angry and that was adding some momentum to his shaking voice.
"Of course I do, they're.... she keeps them in that drawer over there.. In the night
stand."

Roy reached over, hesitating when he saw the man's face stiffen into another wave
of nauseating pain. Finally he had them. "Sir, do you have the originals? These 
look like only partial copies."

"What?" gasped the feather light, sick man. "Wait. I know they're.. they're around
here somewhere. She's always so careful with all our papers whenever we draw 
one up. She always... puts it into the safety deposit box at the bank."

Roy and Johnny exchanged a knowing look and failed to hide their dismay at
a truth revealed.

Harry saw their faces and he frowned again. "What? Is...is that a problem?" he
whispered, sucking in a series of difficult breaths.

DeSoto stayed frank and honest. "I'm afraid it is. Only the top, legal drafts in
ink, are valid. They...they have to be displayed and present in order to override
our rescue protocols." he said, leafing through them.

"I don't understand."

"We can't leave this house without you." Gage said simply, trying to be softer.

Harry grew agitated. "No,..that's not what I want. I don't want to go ANYwhere else.
We decided that with Dr. Thayer. Didn't she tell you?!"

Roy held out a hand. "Easy, sir. Don't get over excited or you'll get more out of
breath to the point where we'll have to start helping you."

But Harry wouldn't listen. He writhed on the bed. "No! I'm not leaving, you.. you
can't make--" The man broke off as a strangled choking jag demanded his
full attention to manage.

DeSoto looked over his shoulder as he raised the bed's head a little higher.
"Chet!" he shouted. "I'm sorry,sir, but until we hear from your doctor or see
the signed draft, we have to do everything in our power to keep you alive."

Harry purpled as he struggled to breathe, furious. But then his consciousness
began to slip and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. The EKG sped
up into a crisis string of PVC's. 

Roy leaned in closer. "Mr. Billings? Mr. Billings? Just try to relax. Can you hear
me?" Roy asked, tipping back his head.  The man drew in a long tortured,
shuddering breath.

"Roy?" Johnny asked as he began grabbing the drug box and airway management
supplies that Kelly eagerly handed to him.

"He's just tired, I think." DeSoto said, not letting go of Billings. "He's still got a
viable carotid." Roy drew out an ambu bag to help him on his in's. "He's still
awake." he reported.

"Okay, I'll contact Rampart." Johnny said, setting up the biophone. "Kelly, go
get Lopez. Get us,.." he said, tossing his head at Harry. "and him,.. portable."

Chet nodded and hurried to the kitchen where Cap and Stoker stood 
comforting the distraught wife. Barb's head lay across her arm on
the table.

Kelly stopped in his tracks, dismayed. "Cap, is she sick? Does she need Roy 
or Johnny in here?" Chet asked as he entered.

Hank shook his head. "No, we finally got her to calm down some. She's just
resting a little, while we get her some coffee. What's up?"

Chet jerked his head silently for him to follow him back to Harry.

"Ah, Mike, could you look after the missus for a while? I'll be right back. I...
forgot to give L.A. our update status when we got here." he fibbed.

"Okay, Cap." said Stoker, getting the underlying hint right away. He couldn't
hide the worry on his face as he did his job.

Cap left them behind.

Chet and Hank arrived just in time to see Roy deliver one more breath by
bag valve to their bed seated patient, who was just starting to gasp weakily
again.

"Better now?" DeSoto asked, watching the man breathe. "All right, try on your
own here." he encouraged as he took the mask away.

The husband fearfully obeyed, and began to relax as his color and muscles 
improved. Then, he actually smiled fractionally in his distress. "Now I... know
why Barb keeps yelling at me all the time....to stay calm."

"Yep." Gage grinned. "Here, let me get you cleaned up before she comes
running in here all in another dither." Johnny deftly dried all traces of tears
from Harry's eyes and cheeks." We ARE gonna figure all this out. Only you
never gave us the chance to tell you first.." he joked. "Now get your heart
rate down before she notices. Take a deep breath... Now a deeper one." 
he said, placing a hand on Harry's damp chest. "Okay, looks like it's over. 
But I still gotta call us in, all right?" he said holding up the biophone receiver.

Harry nodded gratefully, no longer resisting. His scare had humbled him back 
into sensibility. "Okay,.. all right,..*cough* go ahead and do your paramedic 
thing. But I'm still not going.." he said firmly as Roy refitted him with a new
non rebreather oxygen mask.

Gage held up his hands in teasing self defense in a mock surrender."Let's
run that by the doc in charge and see what he says." he said truthfully.

Johnny opened up their squad's frequency. "Rampart, this is Rescue 51. How
do you read?"

At the hospital, a buzzer sounded in the E.R. Dr. Brackett entered the base
station and thumbed the receiver. ##51, this is Rampart Base, go ahead.##

Johnny replied, reading the information that he could from the DNR carbons
in his hand. "Rampart, we've a conscious male, aged eighty five in end stage
blastocystic lymphoma and leukemia. Uh, we were called in secondarily by
a third uninvolved party initially and not by either the patient or his immediate
family. We have their yellow forms only. Patient was tachycardic and is just 
out of respiratory distress which was resolved with some manual assistance.
Doc, we have a pretty good set up here, but with only partial ability to
ascertain current ongoing treatment and therapy. Vital signs are: Central
line B.P. is 90 over 62, pulse 100 and irregular, respirations are twenty six
and shallow on six liters of home O2. His skin is cool and moist. EKG shows
resolving sinus tachycardia with some q wave elevations remaining. Rampart,
he threw some P.V.C.'s during his difficulty, but none are apparent now. Patient
is on I.V. fluids with a locked, preset undeterminable narcotic for pain that is
now ineffective. And by self declaration, he says that he is mordibund and does
not wish to be transported. How do you advise?" he finished quickly, getting
to the point for Harry's benefit.

##51, are you in contact with the patient's attending physician?## Kel asked.

"That's a negative, Rampart. Our patient says that he's unavailable at this time."

Brackett let out a huge sigh. ##There's no other option then, 51. I can't authorize
a med without learning what else he's on without a guarantee of getting him
in here. Either we find his doctor, or you find those original forms. My hands are
tied at this point.## Kel expressed firmly.

Gage let his breath out in a huff. "Rampart, stand by. I've got an idea."

##Standing by.##

"Hey, Roy? Do you think she'll leave him long enough to go to the bank for those
orders?"

DeSoto, shrugged, watching Harry rest under the oxygen mask. "We could always
ask."

The man, gasping in front of them, moaned. "She's not gonna like that idea. She
hasn't left my side since I was diagnosed as terminal. And it's been two years."

Gage gulped, remembering Barb's earlier ire. He glanced up at Roy. "So,..will
you ask her, or shall I?" he blinked at his partner.

DeSoto's mouth slacked as he thought about it.

"Neither." came a third voice at their elbows. "I'm the captain. I'll go ask." 
Hank Stanley said.

Harry tried to chuckle. "Good luck." he hacked, reopening his eyes. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While Gage was on the phone, Chet had seen the confusion on Hank's face when 
Mike had quickly stepped up when they first arrived. ::That's really odd. What's
going on here? Mike doesn't talk about his background.::

As Chet took his position at the foot of the bed, a picture 
caught his eye. It was a color shot of two men in Navy dress whites. 
Chet gasped.

Hank quickly said, "What is it?"

Chet choked out, "I...know...how...Mike...knows...him."

That caught everybody's attention. Johnny saw the sheer concern and total 
surprise in Chet's eyes and kept it professional, "How?"

Chet carefully picked up the picture, "Look." He passed the picture to Cap and 
Johnny then Roy who were waiting to reply back to Kel on the line. 
Each man gasped when they realized it was Mike in the picture.

Suddenly Harry came awake fully, changed by fatigue, "Petty Officer 
Stoker. Where is he?"

Stoker had heard the summons clearly.

Mike was out of the kitchen and by Harry's side in a flash. Barb was right 
behind him with Marco bringing up the rear. Barb took Harry's right hand, Mike 
took his left. 

Mike spoke calmly, "It's okay, Commander. I'm here."

"What about these Air Force punks?"

Mike had to stifle a laugh, "Sir, we're civillians. We all belong to the Los Angeles 
County Fire Department. These are my shift mates."

Harry was embarrassed at his growing confusion, "Quick intro?"

"My honor to. My Captain Hank Stanley, firefighter Chet Kelly, firefighter 
Marco Lopez, paramedic firefighters Roy Desoto and John Gage." As Mike 
introduced them, each man stood where they were, so Harry could see them.

Roy spoke up, "Sir, we will find a way to honor your wishes."

Harry choked out, "Thank you...    Hank."

"Yes, Commander?"

"Take care of my Petty Officer. I'm leaving him in your capable hands." said
Billings.

Hank nodded, smiling, before he spoke, "Thank you, sir."

Harry's voice weakened, "Barb, my love."

Betty's eyes filled with tears, "Right here, on your right as I have been for 
the last sixty-five years." 

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry. You'll always be in my heart." she smiled, eyes
glistening.

Harry seemed to fight another inevitable snooze. Marco grabbed for a shaking Barb
when she saw a final change begin as he started to give up.

Mike's voice cracked, "Stand down for a while, Commander. You've fought a
good fight today. Your watch is over. God speed and rest well, sir."
Tears stung Stoker's eyes.   

"Think I will, Mike. Barb, will you stay with me? I don't want you out of my sight.
You're so beautiful, my sweet lady. Come here.." he gasped. 

She went to him willingly and gently took his face into her age trembling hands.

The smile never left his eyes as they closed in sleep.

Betty turned to face the others, "Thank you all of you for staying here until Harry
settled a little."

Cap spoke for everybody. "You're welcome, ma'am, it was our honor."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few minutes later, Gage was back on the phone. "Doc, there's got to be a 
third option somewhere.. This is crazy. She won't leave him to go get his D.N.R.
originals and Dr. Thayer still isn't answering his phone service from where he's 
located."

Kel startled. ##Wait a minute, Johnny. Did you say Dr. Thayer?##

"I did."

##A Dr. Norman Thayer?"

"Rampart, the wife says yes."  Gage added when Barb showed up just then, 
holding a mug of coffee, nervously crumpling a tissue in her hands.

Dr. Brackett hit the countertop in celebration. ##Hang on, I think I've got an answer
for you, coming right up.## he grinned, glad to get out from under the weight of 
a huge DNR snarl.

"Standing by."

Kel got busy on a house phone. He dialed a few numbers on the rotary. "Hello,
operator? I need Dr. Thayer contacted and I need him now. Yes, I'll hold."
A pause. "What? What do you mean his answering service can't get through? 
That's insane!....Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know you're busy. But this is
important and it concerns a terminally ill patient of his who's in a lot of pain right
now unnecessarily. So try again! Please?..."  Brackett turned around and leaned
on the counter impatiently. "What do you mean no luck! Even I know where he is!
It's what time?" he asked, whipping up his watch long enough to peer at it. "10:26?
He's at the Hazeltine Golf Course, putting the green on the ninth hole as we speak.
I'll give you the number direct. Tell them to ship out a caddy and get his rear 
dragged back inside over a bar phone to talk to me. How do I know? He's been
my golf partner vacationing up there for nine years whenever we go together,
that's how. Now go get the man, pronto!" he barked.

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

A few minutes later, Dr. Brackett was back in touch with Johnny.
##Squad 51, this is Rampart. You've got your third option here. I got
permission to take over your patient's case. Dixie and I will be coming
out there to make a personal house call via squad car. You can tell Mr. Billings
that we'll be there for the duration of time that he requires our services, for as
long as he needs us."

Both Johnny and Roy sighed in gratitude, deeply moved for the Billings. They
knew then that Dr. Brackett was offering to attend a one on one, until the 
morning hours when Harry would surely leave his life.

::Best of all.:: thought Roy. ::He'll be free of all the pain that he would have
suffered emotionally, being at the hospital.::

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

Hours later, it was night, at the station. The gang finally asked Stoker the 
burning question. 

Everybody gathered around Mike.

Marco asked, "Mi amigo?"

Mike took a deep breath as he finished a silent prayer. "I'm okay. Harry would 
shoot me if he realized we wouldn't have stopped working because of those
missing pages today." Mike looked at Johnny and Roy. "I know we always do 
our best, but something about DNR orders...stinks when things don't go right,
you know what I mean?"  Mike held up his hands around his mug as he 
warmed them with its heat before the T.V. set.  

Roy's face turned solemn. "Yeah."

"Guys, I was respecting his privacy by not talking about him or his illness at 
work. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to the house now that I'm off duty, 
to go be with him and Kel, and Dixie. It's what he wants, for friends to be there 
with him in the end."

Respectfully, the gang watched him go.

With that, the rest of the crew broke up and headed for the trucks to dry the dew 
off all their painted fenders and chrome. They all knew they'd never forget 
what they had witnessed that day and in that moment in Mike's quiet eyes.  His 
devotion to friends and duty had absolutely...no parallel in ANY of themselves,.. 
the more they thought about it.

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

Photo:  Gage with a wife on the biophone in
             a bedroom. 

Photo: An I.V. line in an arm.
 
Photo: Marco talking, with a point, to Stoker.
 
Photo: Roy listening with a stethoscope in
            a bedroom. Close shot.
 
Photo: Dixie overseeing a terminally ill, intubated patient. 
 
Photo: Chet and Stoker laughing at Johnny in the station
            kitchen.  

****************************************************************
From: brenda murray (sniffles_76102@yahoo.com) 
Subject: Night Foray
Sent: Fri 11/23/07 5:42 PM 
 
It was week after the Commander had passed away. Mike
was back at work. The Christmas holidays were
approaching. Mike decided if nothing else he would
put on a happy face for the rememberence of the
Commander. ::That's how he would have liked it. :: thought
Stoker.

Since daylight savings time, the night approached a
lot faster, making it feel as if it was later then it
was. The evening was quiet, the doors were locked up.

The firemen were getting ready for a meal. Marco was
cooking his enchiladas with thin sliced avacados on
the side. ::The quiet evening for us is just going
to be a memory after this night ends most likely.::
thought Marco as he finished up.

Marco went to open the back door to get a little air into the 
station, not knowing there was a gang in the alleyway having
another fight over something or another.  And as the door was 
being propped open with a chair, there was a ping, off the
door. Marco felt a sharp pain in his hand, and the
quiet evening ended.

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

Photos:  None.

**************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Faster than a speeding...
Date: Wed Nov 28, 2007 8:20 am 


Recoiling in complete shock, Marco fell back into the
vehicle bay, cradling his left hand in his right. Looking
down, he wasn't surprised to find profusely oozing
blood welling up in between his fingers. ::What the
h*ll? I've been shot?!:: he thought crazily.

Thinking fast, he flipped over onto his belly long 
enough to inch back over to the open door so he
could kick the door wedge free with a hasty foot.

The heavy rear facing door, slammed shut again
loudly, echoing like cannon shot around the bay.

His hand began to throb in increasing agony as he 
crawled away from the thin aluminum garage door
to the interior wall on the same side as the county
map next to the mop cupboard. He groaned, his heart
thudding in his torn hand as he finally gathered enough
presence of mind to shout for the others now that he
was in relative safety.

"Cap! Guys! Call the police! I think I've been hit by
some gunfire coming from the yard!"

Outside, the commotion and loud arguing in Spanish,
issuing from the car dealership over the cement wall,
broke away with the sound of angry chasing feet, that
Lopez recognized as being from at least four or more
street kids. They hadn't even noticed the outcome of
their silencer's bullet ricochet near the station. All some
of them knew was that their target had been missed and 
was getting away.

"Marco?!" came Cap's concerned shout. "Stay down! 
Where are they?"

Lopez groaned, gasping with infuriated fright as he heard
the others making sure things were safe around him.

Someone killed the interior lights and began to crawl towards 
him with a flashlight in the sudden darkness. It was Chet. 
"How bad are ya?"

"It's just the side of my hand. I'm not feeling a hole." Lopez 
panted. "Guys, I think they're gone. All of them ran after 
somebody else. I don't think they even knew I was there."

Hank pulled himself up to the radio alcove and snagged down
the mic and caught it after a yank on its cord. "Can you say
that with absolute certainty they had no idea who they were
firing at?" Stanley snapped in worry from his guarded 
place on the floor.

"Well, no."

"Well then shut up and don't move until Roy and Johnny get 
over there to check you out. L.A., Station 51. Shots fired. 
Fireman down. We need immediate police backup." he 
transmitted.

Kelly grabbed Marco's wrist in both of his hands. "Come on. Let
go." he said. "I can stem this better than you."

"It's not that bad." Marco grunted painfully.

"Like h*ll it isn't!" Chet fretted instantly. "You're bleeding like a 
stuck pig here. Have you seen the front of your shirt yet?"

"It's nothing. That was from me sliding across the floor to get away 
from the back."

Chet chided him skeptically as he pressed down on a pulse point
to stop the hemorrhaging. "Uh huh." he scoffed. "So there's no
reason at all that you're white as a sheet right now, huh?"

Marco sighed, shivering. "All right. I got scared for a moment. I'm
still fine." Lopez said, still sitting up gamely.

Gage startled them both with a tart reply from a dark corner. "I don't
see you moving those fingers any. Let me be the judge of that."
he said, appearing out of the darkness with a trauma box. "Chet, open
his shirt."

"Where's Roy?" Marco asked, feeling his eyes glaze as his heart
began to settle down. Lopez coughed, his arms and legs twitching.

"He's getting his hunting rifle out of his locker to use as a deterrent if
we need one." Johnny said, taking Marco's pulse at the neck. "Are
you short of breath any?" he asked, scissor splitting Lopez's T-shirt
away to look for other sources of bleeding.

"Not any more. Why?"

"You've got another nick here on your ribcage.  I want to make sure 
whatever hit you didn't penetrate any further than skin deep. Does 
this hurt?" he asked, pressing on the new blood-damp area.

"Stings a little."

"Is that all?" Gage questioned, studying his face dubiously.

"Yeah. Like a cat scratch."

Gage smirked. "You're lucky."

Marco clunked his head back against the cold wall. "I knew that
a second after, when just my hand began to burn."

Kelly showed Johnny the ragged tear on the outside fleshy part of
Marco's palm.

"Oww." Marco complained, trying to peer at it, too.

Johnny did a quick mobility check. "Well, those nerves are in full
working order. And these pinky bones are intact and in alignment."
He looked up. "No fractures, Cap. Or tendon damage. He wasn't 
nailed in the right spot." he said, applying a thick dressing for Marco
to cradle his hand into so Chet could let go of his hold.

Stoker showed up with a lantern light just as police sirens grew
urgently in the distance and the red of their lights began to fill up
the pitch blackness of the garage. 

Marco chuckled. "Well that's a little too late. Those hoodlums are
long gone by now."

Hank begged to differ. "Well they still have to look at and document
your injury and find the bullet that hit you."

L.A.'s voice came over their intercom, patched HQ to direct station 
link. ##L.A., Station 51. P.D. advises: Stay under cover until your
immediate vicinity is confirmed as quiet.##

"It WAS quiet earlier. And peaceful. I want that back!" Lopez whined
nervously.

A clacking of a round being clicked into a firing chamber made them 
all jump. It was Roy in one of the squad's bullet proof vests and his
duty helmet. The number "51" reflected eerily in the battery light.
"You got it." DeSoto said. "I'm just making sure things stay that way."

Marco sighed mightily at the same time Johnny let out the air in the
blood pressure cuff he was using on Lopez's good arm. "Spoken like
a true Viet Nam vet." Lopez giggled.

"D*mned straight. You're forgetting that Joanne, the kids and I, live in this
same neighborhood." Roy told him.

Hank chuckled. "Cops are here, Roy. How about putting that thing away
before they get a little trigger happy out there, looking in?"

##L.A., Station 51. What's your Code I's status?##

Cap thumbed the mic he still held in his lap. "Station 51, L.A. He's minor.
Go ahead and cancel our ambulance. He'll go in by squad if it's warranted
after we make a quick phone call to the hospital. Our update with P.D. will
follow by landline." Stanley replied.

##10-4, 51. Cancelling response.##

Gage let out a satisfied grunt. "Well, the bleeding's stopped and your
vitals are doing fine."

"Just like I told ya!" Marco sputtered, his adrenalin finally hitting.

Johnny grinned. "Easy, don't shoot the messenger. I'm bearing good 
news. But I still have to make our phone call in." he said, jerking his thumb
squadwards towards the still stashed biophone.

Three smacks against the rear garage door by the yard startled everyone
badly. Except for Roy, who was calmly checking out the head hatted 
silhouettes of cops showing through the cracks in the garage door. "Ah,"
DeSoto said. "That's our all clear. I'll go let them in." he said, flicking on
the garage lights again. "So, is he gonna make it there, Johnny?"

"Without a doubt. He's just winged a little." Gage smiled.

"Just like I've been trying to say all along!" Marco complained, getting to
his feet with Mike and Chet's help. He moved to the bench and sat down
next to Cap's office next to the file cabinet that held the station's photo
camera. He eyed it up as Cap drew it out. "In every gory detail, huh?"
he asked, about the report and statement taking to come.

Hank patted him on his unbloody shoulder. "Won't take long." He glanced
over at Johnny, who was setting up the biophone. "Is it deep?"

"Nah, just a nasty furrow. Once it dries up, a little Second Skin'll cover it
good enough for working, as long as he keeps wearing a glove."

Hank relaxed. "Just what I wanted to hear. No fill-in necessary." Stanley 
sighed.

"Hey!" yelled Marco. "Did anybody ask ME about that? I've been shot!"

"Creased." Roy and Johnny both corrected him at the same time.

DeSoto smiled. "It's only a flesh wound. Like you said, it's nothing." 
he rubbed in.

Marco scowled, growling.

Cap rolled his eyes. "I think I'm getting an even bigger headache now
to go with the one I've had all day." he muttered. "Do you guys know
how much paperwork I have to fill out because that little nick is actually
a gunshot wound?"

Stoker rocked back on his heels. "Aren't you glad you're the captain?"

"Go make yourself useful and mop up that blood. Then finish cooking
lunch for Marco until he gets his hand dressed out after all the necessary
photo taking." Cap glared, actually half sting.

"Yes sir." Stoker mock saluted. He diluted his mirth with a wink that stayed
all of Hank's temper about report filing, neatly.

Behind them, Gage began his hail. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do 
you read?"

Dixie McCall answered the line. ##51, I read you loud and clear. Go ahead.##

"Rampart, I have a minor GSW-Code-I in a still alarm for documentation."
and he proceeded to give her all the nitty gritty details. When he was through,
Dixie asked. ##Apply dressings and elevate. I note patient wishes no
transportation. Are you bringing him in for a pain prescription?##

Johnny held up the phone receiver in a shrug to Marco, who was wrapped up
in deep conversation with Vince, who was the assigned information 
gatherer for the incident.

Lopez shook his head vehemently and pointed lockerroomwards and made
pill bottle opening gestures with his hands. "I got Tylenol." he mouthed.

Gage nodded. "Negative, Rampart."

##Ok, 51. Thanks for the information the county needs. And stay safe out
there for Pete's sake!## Dixie said in a parting shot. 

Marco couldn't resist. "We are! In here..." he said out loud.

Dixie hung up the line, laughing.

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

Photo:   Marco, looking pained by the drug box in
              the vehicle bay.

Photo:  Roy, looking worried in the dark in the bay by
             the squad.

Photo:  Cap, looking disgusted by the rear garage doors.

Photo:  Marco, looking at his arm with Stoker near the Ward.

Photo:  Johnny on the biophone in a still alarm in Station 51.

Photo: Dixie McCall on the red land line phone at Rampart.

Photo:  Roy getting out the trauma box from the squad 
             in the bay.

Photo:  Marco seated on the engine near Stoker in the bay.

Photo:  Roy and Johnny relieved, in the communications alcove.

************************************************** 
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> 
Date: Sun Dec 2, 2007 6:57 pm 
Subject: When Seconds Count.. 

An hour later, Marco's wound was shellacked down to
a crusty, pain free seam and the jokes were once again
flying thick around the rec room before the t.v. set still
turned to the brush fire coverage.

Cap hung up the phone, at the end of what was another
of numerous ones he had received from the chief regarding
the shooting. He smirked from the corner of his mouth, making
Marco mutter. 

"Uh, oh.." trickled Lopez.

Stanley went to sit deliberately on the very edge of 
his black recliner to face him. Then his mouth opened.
"Congratulations, pal. You're officially the first firefighter ever
to have gotten himself shot in a big house."

The rest of the gang burst out laughing. 

Marco squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't know whether to 
feel honored, or horrified."

Stoker's good humor barely slackened. "Definitely the latter.
That could have been very bad."

"I can think of worse things than just wounded firemen." said
Cap, sobering. "All the dead ones."

The gang quieted, deflected into dark seriousness in moments.

Johnny Gage broke the silence softly. "Say, Cap. Any word on 
the number of casualties from working those San Bernadino
County fires?" he said, gesturing at the news with his Grape
Crush bottle.

"A lot." Cap said morosely, without blinking.

"Too many." echoed Stoker, unbidden.

"Don't we know it." agreed Hank, finally blinking, with emotion
restored to his face. "But the governor doesn't want to throw
our county into the battle just yet because many of us are
THEIR replacement standbys in their regular service areas,
McConnikee says. In fact, if Marco had found himself laid up,
there wouldn't have been somebody here at home available
to replace him."

"How so, Cap?" asked Roy.

Stoker replied, already knowing the answer. "Because our 
secondary personnel have already been sent to combat the fires."

Chet made a face. "Well, that's dumb. What if a paramedic 
somewhere in L.A. gets sick on the job or something and can't work?
Does that squad go out of service?" Kelly wondered.

Cap said. "The chief's just authorized that anyone with the appropriate
side training can take over the missing spot with assisting the main 
paramedic."

Gage immediately fell into an uproar. "Oh, Cap. A firefighter can't
start an I.V. or.. or - or utilize injectable meds.."

Stanley held up a finger. "No, but he can keep up the basics, like
resuscitation, right?"

Johnny piped down.

"Yeah, that happens anyways. " agreed Chet. "And we can handle 
the biophone just fine in a pinch." 

Gage shuddered. "Having someone like you? As my.." he gulped. 
"..partner?" he squeaked. "Now that's scary." he breathed frankly.

Marco took offense. "Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?"

Johnny held up a hand. "No. Look,..Agh! I didn't mean it the way it
sounded. I was only thinking about other situations like.. What if
an engineer got laid up or a battalion chief got sudden emergency
medical leave? That could knock a whole station out of commission..
There'd be no one to drive the d*mn*d truck or run the proper
personnel assignments at mass casuality incidents if something big
should happen then."

Hank met his eyes miserably. "Now you know why every tenth brush fire
season or so, really sucks. This is one of them." he said, eyeing up 
the news that was urgently murmuring, very close to them.

The tones went off.

##Station 51. Oil Spill at Shasta Pass. At mile marker one fourteen 
involving a tanker on a viaduct. No smoke showing. At Shasta Pass,
marker 114 on the viaduct. Hazmat has been dispatched. Time out:
Fifteen nineteen.##

Chet shook his head. "Guys, did we just curse ourselves?" he asked
as they all fled for the bay at a run.

Cap was particularly tight lipped, giving no reply.

Stoker dutifully took the Ward after the squad, code three, and
together, the rescue trucks headed up into the mountains not yet
blanketed by fire smoke coming from their inferno plagued 
neighboring ranges.

Kelly just shrugged. "So we get to play with some sand and a lot
of ground water. Should be no big deal to handle at all. Look, we'll
probably be home again by dinner time."

Although self professed as being non-superstitious, Cap muttered an
explicative anyway to protest his burning, report-overexposed eyes. 
"Kelly, cork it!"

"Geez. Can't a raging optimist get anywhere around here?"

Stoker chuckled as he shifted the engine into a faster gear.
"Only when the last spark's out for good."

Chet licked his lips. "Okay, I'm a pumper tanker full of water. Where's
the fire?" he joked.

Next to them, Cap whispered, rubbing sore temples. "It's still coming.."
he mumbled. "Can't you feel it?... I sure can.." It was spoken figuratively.

Station 51 passed a logger's truck, pulled out of their way onto 
a runaway chute to let them by, heeding their lights.

Mike saw Roy slow up ahead in the squad as their vehicles' path
encountered a second downshifting logging truck.

"Man.." Chet breathed grandly. "Must be wonderful running business
as usual while the surrounding counties burn up all around you." Chet
scoffed at the driver. "Ain't this red engine big enough for you to see
in your rear view mirrors!"

Marco laughed, fingering his repaired hand. "Out of sight, out of mind.
Ah, there, he sees us. Can't smell or see the smoke way up here.
Only smog."

The logging truck bounced over a splintered rock lying in the road and
one of its steel securing chains, snapped. Ninety foot debarked pine logs
began sliding off the moving loader in a shuddering cascade of dead
wood.

"Look out!" Kelly startled.

"Brace yourselves!" Stoker yelled. And slammed on the brakes as the 
squad maneuvered clear of the shavings spewing avalanche.

The terrifying end of a log falling, arched toward Engine 51's windshield
like a battering ram.

Mike threw on the emergency brake and the whole fire engine decelerated
almost to a standstill in one sickening jerk, bouncing on lurching, fully locked
up tire sets. 

Everyone was thrown forward into their seatbelts, until their harnesses caught
them with a jolt, firmly.

The log...missed. Only narrowly avoiding an impact on their glass by the
smallest of feet.

"Ugh!" Cap grunted as his forehead went down fast onto his gloved hands,
holding onto the dashboard.

"Is everybody all right?" Stoker shouted when the Ward squealed to a halt
before the settling pile of fallen timbers.

"C-Call it in. " Hank said. "Hopefully, there aren't any injuries.." he told them,
thinking ahead to the driver of the timber truck and behind for the speeding
traffic that would inevitably meet up with them. "Mike, turn the sirens back on.
Let's prevent a rear collision." Stanley ordered, still resting against the door jam.

Stoker nodded and recommitted the wailer. "I should have turned us sideways
to act like a crash barrier." he said, smacking the steering wheel.

"No room to maneuver now." Cap winced.

Marco said. "Let's just get out.. Before it happens."

Mike watched as the others fled. He picked up the radio mic.
"Engine 51. L.A..." he said quickly, watching for any new traffic
danger.

##Engine 51.##

"Log fall. Our highway at.. mile marker one ten. We are unavailable to
continue our response. We've a total road obstruction.." Mike shouted
loudly. "Suggest a reassign."

##10-4. Re-routing resources. Sending CHiP for traffic. Do you have
motorist casualities?##

"Not yet." Mike relayed nervously, glancing back in all of his mirrors 
at the highway lanes at the back. ::If anyone heeds cherry flares, now's
the time.:: he thought as he watched Chet and Marco run along the
grassy margins on either side to light and lay a bunch. ::G*d,..Why don't
they give us warning signs to carry with us? It'd be an easy fix!:: Mike
thought quickly. 

He bailed the cab the same time Hank did and the two of them made
for the roadside nearest the logger's truck. The driver's door was ajar
and open. The trucker was already safe, standing on the offside of
the guardrail away from his now empty loader.

"You okay?" Stoker shouted at him.

"Yeah! I'm fine! Now, at any rate.." he half laughed, not feeling happy
at all. "D*mn*d highway department! I told them yesterday, that cliff
face was still dumping debris onto the highway in this spot. But did
they come and blast the instability away and clean it up? No!"

"Well they will now.." Hank sighed, looking at him from under his
helmet. "They're on the way." He said, hefting up his radio.

Stoker and Cap's HTs sounded. ##Squad 51 to Engine 51. We're going
on ahead to survey our original call for Battalion.## said Roy.

Cap sat down tiredly onto the guard rail and replied back. "10-4, uh..Advise
the next responding engine what you find." Hank said, still shaken by
the near brush they had experienced, as he radioed out. He shrugged at
Stoker. "What else can go wrong today?"

Mike laughed. "Well, at least, we're all safe. I haven't seen any cars coming
in, have you?"

Cap shook his head, rubbing it with fatigue. "No.."

Clearly, Squad 51 came over active. ##L.A., we're on scene. So far no
injuries or fire. We've several boxcars slightly derailed on the overpass.
Looks like crude raining down onto the roadway beneath. We're getting
the area free of motorists. L.A.P.D. is here, assisting. ## said Gage.

Mike glanced back at Stanley. "I think Marco and Chet were able to flag down
everybody okay, Cap." he said after another few tense seconds went by.

"Good." Stanley cracked in relief. Suddenly, Hank wove in place dizzily, leaning
oddly sideways, falling.

Mike yelled, catching him in shock as he passed out utterly. "Cap? What's--"
He bore his weight to the ground carefully. Only then did Stoker see his stiffened
arms and legs moments later as Hank's eyes fell half closed as all expression left 
his face. "Cap? Can you hear me?" Stanley's feet curled and his hands clenched 
and twisted up against his body.

Then Cap stopped moving, his slitted eyes fixed ahead. They were dilating.

The trucker rushed over. "Oh, my G*d. What happened to him?"

"I don't know." Mike said, moving to Hank's head. He could feel a pulse. It was
very slow and irregular. He thumbed his HT. "Chet! Marco! One of you
get back here now. Cap's down and unconscious. And I don't know why!" 

##On my way! Marco's watching our scene safety! I'll get the O2.## Kelly 
replied, urgently.

Hank was now limp as a rag doll, and completely still. 

Opening an airway, Mike bent low over Cap's nose and mouth, listening.
He heard nothing. Stunned, Stoker began giving him full breaths, mouth to
mouth, trying to regain at least some reflexive gasping out of him. 

Cap didn't even try.

Chet ran by, without stopping, for the engine and the resuscitator apparatus.
"Is it cardiac?!" Kelly shouted, scared to death, as he fumbled open the 
side catch on the Ward for their airways bag, too. 

"I don't think so. He postured for a bit. I think his head was hurting him."
Mike said, grabbing for the demand valve as soon as Chet got it to him.
He started hyperventilating Hank, using its positive pressure trigger,
to eliminate any last trace of oxygen deficit. "Get us another squad." 
he said quickly.

Kelly finished turning on the suction unit to standby and he grabbed up
Mike's HT from the ground. "L.A. we've a fireman down. Non-breathing
with a pulse. Send paramedics to our location. Squad 51 is unavailable."
::D*mn first in protocol. Roy and Johnny can't leave where they are until 
the chief gets there after them with the second station's response crew.::

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Roy and Johnny startled from their position upwind of the derailment
at Chet's transmission. ##L.A., we've a fireman down. Non-breathing
with a pulse. Send paramedics to our location. Squad 51 is unavailable.##  

Johnny's mouth flopped open. "What? Involving OUR engine crew?"

##10-4, Engine 51. ## came L.A. ##*Beep. Beep. Beep* Squad 26. 
Nonbreathing Code I. At Shasta Pass, mile marker one ten. Engine 
crew is present. At Shasta Pass, mile marker one ten. Time out: Fifteen
forty five.##

##Squad 26, L.A. Our E.T.A. is ten minutes...##

Gage shouted. "D*mm*t! That's too long!" he said glaring at the radio
in his gloves.

DeSoto turned to face back down the highway from where they had come.
He stepped up onto the squad's side runner to see a little better and
so did Gage. They could still see the logging truck spill a few hairpin 
turns away in the far distance, four miles away. Scared senseless, Roy
nodded. "Sounds like it could be a medical situation. Chet didn't say
anyone was struck by a car."

"But on who?" Gage said, his attention torn between managing their
incident safety and paying attention to his handytalkie. Then he thought back,
remembering subtle changes in his mind's eye of posture, and complaining.
"Oh sh*t. It's Cap... I thought he wasn't feeling okay. Remember?"
he said, whirling at DeSoto, testing his guess.

"Yeah. And I think he even said as much, too. And we're still completely 
stuck here.." Roy shouted in frustration, banging on the roof of the squad.
"...tied by standing orders.."

There was as yet no sign of their approaching Battalion's car. There was 
only the sound of dripping oil falling from the box car tanker and police 
orders coming over a bullhorn as they began evacuating sidewalk bystanders.

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

Photo:   A log falling off a logging truck right at your windshield.

Photo:   Stoker driving the Engine.

Photo:   Chet, Marco Stoker crouched over someone with a resuscitator.

Photo:   Cap down, hurting, on his back.

Photo:   A man being breath ventilated on an ambu bag.

Photo:   Gage in a helmet disturbed about a transmission.

Photo:   Roy responding to L.A. in turnout, near open squad.

**************************************************
From: "Erin J." <etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com>  and "Patti" 
<theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> in a tandem story posting.
Subject: Skunked
Date: Thu, 6 Dec 2007 17:21:42 -0600
 
Johnny and Roy immediately cursed themselves and the 
county as they realized they couldn't leave the scene. 

A quick look between them and they knew they 
had to do two things at once. They had to be the relay for Mike 
and they had to stay put. They were NOT happy with the 
second idea. 

"There's no department rule that says we have to be at a patient's
side to transmit, is there?" Johnny said, rubbing his chin nervously.

"Not that I recall.." hurried DeSoto, instantly agreeing, as he rushed 
back to his side.

Roy jumped on the portable radio as Johnny grabbed the biophone
out from inside the squad. 

Johnny had the receiver opened in record time. "Rampart, 
this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

Seconds later,  Morton's voice rang out. ##Go ahead 51, this 
is Rampart. We read you loud and clear.##

"Rampart, we have a Code I just up the road from our current 
location. We will be doing an HT relay with them." Johnny said.

##10-4, 51. Do you know the identity of the Code I or the 
circumstances?##

"Negative on the circumstances, Rampart. We think the Code I 
may be our captain." he said to peg age and record finding indicator.

Morton took a quick breath of frustration. ##10-4, 51. We'll keep 
the line open. Let us know when you have more information.##

"10-4, Rampart."

Behind him, Roy couldn't thumb the talk button to the engine fast
enough. "HT 51 to Engine 51..."

There was no reply.

DeSoto fretted, running through worst case scenarios. ::Did Hank
arrest a little deeper?::

Finally, Chet came on the line. ##Engine 51 to HT 51. We hear you
DeSoto.##

"What have you got on him?" Roy asked quickly.

##We don't know. There's not a mark on him. I-- he's---##

"Easy. Calm down, Kelly. Just report what you're seeing. One
detail at a time. Is he ventilating okay?"

##Uh, yeah.##

"Has he vomitted?"

##No. He's not reacting to pain or us fussing with him at all.##

"Okay.. Listen up. Now I know you know what we do. Go over him 
head to toe. Tell me what you find. Each thing could be an important 
clue. Don't miss it. Keep relaxed, and focused. And keep talking.
You're my eyes and hands." Roy told him.

Chet hid some more stress.
##Uh, earlier, his feet and hands were curling. But not any more.##

Roy cringed. ::Was that decorticate or decerebrate?:: he thought,
estimating Hank's coma scale score mentally. ::Either one is bad.::
"His head, and face, what do they look like?" Roy coached.

##Nothing's bleeding, no wounds. But, wait a minute. Mike, aren't
his eyes bulging out?##

Roy heard a muffled reply that sounded like affirmation. ::Oh no.::
DeSoto thought with fear. ::Increasing intracranial pressure.::
"What's his BP palpated? Is it high, or low?" ::Is this basilar or
or something internal?:: he worried. "Where are his pulses?"

##Uh,... we can find one at both wrists.##

"Strong or weak?"

##Bounding. Rate's around forty. And his veins are distending 
in his hands even when we raise them higher than his heart.##

Roy covered the speaker. "Johnny, he's hypertensive. Badly."

Johnny grabbed the handytalkie Roy handed him while he
gave into some frustrated pacing, back and forth, before the viaduct.

Gage keyed in. "Get his head up! Immobilize him on a short board
and elevate his head as fast as you can. Watch out for airway obstructions.
And whatever you do, don't use an oral airway." ::That'll make his ICP
soar even higher.::

They could almost hear Kelly's fright over the line. ##10-4.##

Johnny made an effort to quiet his voice. "He may get restless later.
Combative. Making it harder to ventilate him. Don't fight him and don't
force in those breaths. Just do enough for a slight rise to keep him
in good color. Keep his head and neck in line using a jaw thrust.
Get EVERYbody on it, if that's what it takes. That's crucial."

Roy was on the biophone to Morton, having just clarified the mechanism
of Stanley's collapse."Doc, it's definite on Cushing's triad. And 
before his loss of consciousness, he exhibited faint extensor posturing."
he said over the relay. ::I feel blind. This is useless!:: he fretted.

Morton's reply was cautious, probing.
##I agree. This is a head injury that I also strongly suspect to have an 
elevated ICP. Here's a trick. Aggressive hyperventilation with mechanical 
ventilation results in narrowing of cerebral vessels and may delay his 
brain's swelling. Tell them to start up on it, and not go overboard.##

Gage heard that clearly. "Chet, hyperventilate at 20 breaths/min but no 
more, or cerebral ischemia'll set in, hurting him worse." he radioed.

Kelly looked up at Stoker. "Do twenty, exactly. And super light."

Footfalls behind them announced someone coming.
It was Marco, running.

Mike nodded, shifting his grip around, switching to an ambu bag, 
while Marco Lopez checked and rechecked the straps and head block 
cocooning Hank's puffy face.

Lopez tried to grin. "Yep, I'm here now. I lied and told the cops we had 
a CPR going." 

"Let's hope not." Stoker retorted, worried, concentrating hard.

"Oh G--, when did he stop breathing?" Marco asked, scared.

"Right away, man." Chet told him, miserable.

Underneath their hands, Hank seemed to drift farther away, his
skin mottling. He seemed smaller to them, lying down, propped
up as he was, and frighteningly, very vulnerable. 

For the first time, Engine 51's crew feared that he would die.

Morton's orders continued.
##Establish large bore IV with Normal Saline at keep open rate.##

##Rampart, we will as soon as we have contact.## came Gage's 
disembodied voice.

##Make it fast. Immobilize patient's C-spine with rigid cervical collar, 
shortboard, and immobilize the patient's head until it's secured to the 
backboard. Then raise it up higher than his feet.##

"Already done." Johnny told him from his location four miles out
from his patient.

##Begin transport immediately and repeat vital signs at least every 
five minutes in transport.## Morton added. ##Even partial ones.
I want to know how he's progressing every minute.##

"You'll get 'em." he promised.

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

After what seemed like years, but in reality was only a few minutes, 
Roy finally spotted the Chief's car pulling in. Relief filled his 
voice as he once again keyed the HT. "Squad 51, Engine 51."

A shaky Chet replied, ##Go ahead, Squad 51.##

"Hang in there guys, we have a visual on the Chief. As soon as 
he gives us the clearance, we'll be right there."

Roy could hear the sigh of relief through the HT. Chet came 
back after a second, "Thank G*d. You two will definitely be 
welcomed."

Roy swallowed hard. "We know. Squad 51 out."

As Roy was talking to Chet, Johnny restarted the squad. He wanted 
to make sure that as soon as the Chief released them, that there was 
nothing standing in their way. ::Hank's our captain, friend and 
a fellow firefighter. If we could have, we would have been back 
at the site as soon as his initial call went out.:: he thought.  
With the squad idling, Johnny jumped out. 

Together, Johnny and Roy sprinted for the Chief's car. Battalion
Chief Conrad had no choice but to meet them as soon as he 
stepped out of the car. "DeSoto, Gage, what's the size-up?"

Johnny bit back from mentioning the code I at first. Roy answered, 
"Sir, we have a tanker not yet fully involved on the highway above. 
No movement from the tanker, so victims unknown. That's heavy
crude on the ground and still falling."

Conrad looked up, "Holy s*** , that's gonna be one hot train."

Johnny couldn't hold back any longer. "Chief, can we stand
down from this incident?"

Conrad was confused, "Why?"

"We have a Code I just about four miles from here. Our 
engine ran into some issues with a loose log from a logging 
truck." 

"Who's down?"

"Captain Stanley. Condition unknown, mostly likely a serious 
head injury from what we were able to gather over the HT 
from the engine crew."

Conrad knew he was standing in front of two of the county's 
best paramedics and also two firefighters who would be 
distracted if he kept them. "Go. One question."

Roy quickly asked, "Yes, sir?"

"Do you need any air transportation?"

"Yes, sir. Sir, I've been thinking. See if Sierra Rescue can come 
in. That will give you man power here, and for us, a chopper. 
You can have them land-in, still very close, at mile marker one ten.  
Don't worry about the two rangers who get bumped off, they can 
grab a ride with the engine crew when they are freed up to respond 
back here with you." Johnny replied quickly.

"You're r-.." Before Conrad could finish Roy and Johnny had 
sprinted back to the squad. Conrad shook his head sadly 
as he watched them leave. ::I can't blame them. I hate
to see any Code I. Especially someone I know, named Hank 
Stanley.::

Conrad cued his HT. "L.A., this is Battalion 14."

Sam Lanier's voice came back, ##Go ahead, Battalion 14.##

"L.A., respond Sierra Rescue Code 3 to Engine 51's incident."

##10-4, Batallion 14.  They've been in the air five minutes, 
approximate ETA, three minutes.##

"10-4, L.A. Respond three more engines and two trucks to my 
current location. We have an oil tanker in high risk of
becoming fully involved." 

##Battalion 14.##

Gage's voice rang out over the incident channel. "L.A. This
is Squad 51. Reroute your second paramedic response for
Engine 51's Code I to the tanker incident. We've just been 
cleared to assist in their place."

"L.A., I verify the squad change. 14 out."

##L.A. clear, KMG 941. Squad 26, report to mile
marker one fourteen, as a fire standby.##

##Squad 26.##

Conrad stuffed his HT back in his turnout pocket as the 
fireball he imagined as a possibility from the oil tanker grew
bigger in his mind's eye as he began calculating gallons
spilled out.

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

Roy and Johnny left hinges swinging wide
open on every door and compartment of the squad 
as they met one of their crewmates, who rushed to aid 
them.

Kelly grabbed up the defibrillator and the second
oxygen tank.

"How's he doing?!" Roy hollered, hastening.

"The same. Carotids're equal on both sides." Chet said.

"You remembered to check that. Good." Gage said, hurrying.

All three could see Stoker working quietly with Marco to
keep oxygen flowing into Hank's lungs well.

Johnny flinched as he looked up as Sierra Rescue landed their
bird on a gravel margin just up the road on an emergency
runaway truck escape lane. 

The roar of the rotors were compounded by the sound of bulldozers
coming to push the logs over the clifftop and out of the way of
the fire engine and waiting traffic. Gage covered his eyes protectively.

As he knelt, Johnny closed Hank's eyes, too, until they stayed shut
against the flying dirt. "Okay.." he shouted to the rescueman rangers
running their way with a stokes from the chopper running hot.
"Let's get him loaded!"

A minute later, Chet, Marco and Mike could only watch as Cap
was bundled head first into the helicopter and into Roy and 
Johnny's waiting hands, guided in by the bird's pilot.

Stoker felt something bump against him so he grabbed at it.
It had been put there by a bulldozer worker. "Here. Did you drop 
this one?" asked the man, chuckling.

Mike looked down and saw Cap's helmet in between their hands. 
"Yeah. I'll take it." he said, his eyes stinging from more than just
the wind. 

"No problem, Mac. Nice driving if you avoided that mess. I know how
crazy these loggers like to take their corners."

Stoker looked up at the loose faced cliffside, which was getting 
ignored by the DOT once again. ::Typical.:: he sighed. :: Don't we 
always only see what we want to see?::

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Inside the Sierra Ranger's National Park Service helicopter,
Gage and DeSoto had their hands going as fast as they
could go.

Morton's voice came over their headset earphones.
##Okay, 51. Set up for a rapid sequence intubation.
Pre-oxygenate for as long as possible, before
you fly. Use lidocaine as a pre-treatment.  Now!  I want to
prevent that rise in intracranial pressure we're going to get 
with intubation.##

"10-4, Rampart. Lidocaine 1.0 mg/kg slow I.V. push.
We have a saline lock established." reported DeSoto.

##That'll do.## Dr. Morton said, ##Large bore's premature.##

A Sierra medic kept breaths continuous while they prepared 
Stanley for an endotracheal tube. The EKG monitor wavered
unsteadily as Johnny flipped on the visual screen, already
wormy from the vibrations of the chopper.

##Apply cricoid pressure using the Sellick maneuver.
Paralyze with rocuronium, Roy. 0.6mg/kg. That paralytic
won't raise his ICP. Intubate using in-line C-spine stabilization
and release cricoid pressure only after successful intubation.
Food'll want to work its way up if it hasn't already. He's
got to be severely nauseated by now.## 

"Suction's ready." Roy nodded at Gage.

##Add mannitol, 1g/kg by rapid IV bolus over 10 - 15 minutes
to his I.V. port. And an anti-seizure of phenytoin, 15 mg/kg.##

DeSoto repeated his medication orders while Johnny
attempted his first intubation try. It went in.

"Okay, bag him. Catch up a little." Gage told the ranger medic.

"Got it." he replied.

"All right, let's lift off! He's intubated." Johnny shouted.

The chopper took to the smoky skies.

Morton came over the channel again. ##What's his pulse
rate? I can't tell by the EKG telemetry. There's too much
helicopter/bounce interference..##

"40, Rampart." Roy said. "Pressure's still 170 systolic."

##Okay, give him some atropine, 0.5 mg. to end that
brady's cycle. Once you're airborne, push Lasix, 40 to 
80 mg. I want to decrease his ICP further.##

Johnny finished gelling Cap's eyes under dressings
where they jutted out to protect them. He looked
up and reported one last cardiac interpretation for
the hospital. "Roy, I'm seeing. Non-specific EKG 
changes - large upright T waves, some ST 
depressions, ...and U waves."

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

Brackett had entered the alcove, to consult with Morton 
in the base station.. "Hmmm, U waves. Those are common 
enough in the severe head injury patient. Okay, Mike, summon 
the Neurosurgical Trauma Team a.s.a.p. and order up a stat CT 
Scan." Kel suggested.  

Morton looked at him. "But that'll take anywhere from 15 to 45 
minutes to complete."

Brackett lifted his chin, expressing his view. "With this intracranial 
hypertension definitely suspected, we have to assess the degree 
of ICP increase first to identify the cause of it so his surgeons will 
know how to proceed best."

Morton stayed true to his questioning nature. "But his ICP will 
continue to rise during radiographing."

Brackett was used to his resident's testing.
"It's a risk, yes. But operating without knowing where
the problem lies is more dangerous. I'm not
going to have anyone do blind burr holes, exposing
the additional risk of infection, when it might not
do any good at all in his case."

Morton nodded. "You're right, you know."

Kel met his eyes. "When he arrives, draw blood for electrolytes, 
blood urea nitrogen, creatinine, glucose, complete blood cell 
count with platelets, prothrombin time, activated partial 
thromboplastin time, toxicology screen and serum alcohol level, 
and blood type and crossmatch."

Morton went into motion, snatching up the black phone. 
"Right away, Kel."

Soon, both left the base station, anticipating Cap's arrival.

-------------------------------------------
The stunned crew of engine 51 watched as the chopper took
off, taking Cap and their two frantically working paramedics
up into the air. 

For a brief second, nobody said a word. 

Then reality kicked in. They still had a job to do. As 
much as none of them wanted to do it, they knew they had 
to.  

One of the Sierra rescueman finally broke the silence, 
"Guys, we know it's not much comfort, but at least your 
Captain is headed for one of the best hospitals in the 
county."

Marco spoke quietly, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." said Ranger Matt Harper.

Mike was about to open his mouth when the engine's radio 
squawked to life momentarily, startling everybody. ##Engine 
51, Battalion 14.##

Mike reached into the cab of Big Red and grabbed the radio. 
"Go, Battalion 14."

##I need you to continue in to the orginal call. I have a tanker 
here that's getting angrier by the second and you're still the 
closest engine.##

Mike took a quick breath. ::Duty calls. Even now.:: "10-4, 
Battalion 14, ETA approximately three minutes. Be advised,
we have two members of Sierra rescue with us."

"Yep. Fireman Gage planned that. 10-4, 51. Battalion 14, out."

Mike turned back to the others. "Chet, Marco, let's get on the 
back. Let the guys from Sierra have your seats." The others 
snapped into action as Mike climbed back into the cab and 
started Big Red. Briefly, he looked over at the Captain's seat. 
All that remained to show that he had been there, was Hank's 
retrieved helmet.

Shaking his head to clear his mind and refocus, Mike pulled 
away with lights and sirens going as soon as the others 
were in belted in and in position. It took only two minutes 
for the engine to come screaming up to the scene. 
Within seconds everybody had piled out and off of the Ward. 

Chief Conrad jogged over as an ominous rumble was 
heard from the bridge. "And there some settling. Thanks guys, I 
know this isn't easy for any of you."

Chet and Marco held their tongues and Mike answered 
solemnly, "No sir, it's not. We want to keep at it. What do 
we have?"

"Initially, the tanker had escaping crude. However, more's
happening now. It's getting extremely close to exploding. 
The train engine's still steaming up there." he replied.

Chet muttered, "Lovely."

One of the two Sierra rescuemen spoke up, "Chief, do we 
know if there any victims?" said a man in his fifties.

Conrad frowned.
"Unknown at this time. It's still not safe enough to search 
the area. When the second chopper arrives, I'll have him circle
overhead. Squad 51 didn't find signs of anyone when they were 
here and I have not seen any since I've been on scene.
I'm banking on the possibility that they all got off."

"Okay." said Jack Moore, the chief ranger, nodding. 

Battalion started planning for an escalation of resources.
Conrad turned to 51's four and asked, "Do you have anything 
still with you representing a Captain's rank?"

Chet opened his mouth to say something nasty, but he 
quickly shut it when Mike shot him a look. 

Mike turned back to Conrad, "We have his helmet, sir. His turnouts
were cut away during trauma assessment." he told him, puzzled.

"Fair enough."

Suddenly the earth beneath their feet rolled and bucked as a loud 
BOOM!! was heard from above. Marco and Chet shouted at the 
same time, "Holy mother of..."

Conrad cut them off, "Get under cover until it's over! Mike no arguments!   
Take the hat now. You're promoted emergency status to captain. Go..."

Conrad left an extremely surprised and stunned Stoker and the 
rest of the engine crew with their jaws hanging open as he turned 
away to redirect in a more powerful water curtain. 

For a brief second, nobody could move. Then as a second 
explosion ripped through the air, reality kicked in. 

Mike turned and ordered in a voice that nobody had ever heard 
him use. "Marco, Chet, get a three and wye out. Sierra, have you 
had any experience on the lines?" he asked the two rangers with 
them.

Both guys from Sierra spoke at once, "Yes, but it's been a while."

"You're recruited, then. Get a two and a half inch unloaded. Kelly
and Lopez here'll show you how to lay and charge one." Stoker
said.

Mike's sudden alteration disrupted and distracted everybody. 

:: Even myself.::Mike trembled inwardly. ::Why me?::

But nobody had time to let that sink in. 
What they had to handle immediately was one nasty fireball 
that was going to get ahead of them quick if they didn't move! 

In a matter of minutes, Chet had the three inch hooked 
up and Marco had secured hose for Sierra. With slightly 
shaking hands, Mike set up the panel controls for both lines. 

Once they were going, he walked back to the cab, clutching
an HT now turned to the command channel. He didn't want 
to disrepect the fallen, but he had to follow orders. 

Stoker wearily climbed into the cab and removed his helmet. 

As he reached over for Cap's helmet, his hands briefly shook again. 

Mike thought to himself, ::Cap, get back quick. I'll mind the shop, 
but we need you back. Hopefully, I can do this now and not get anybody 
killed.:: Mike put the helmet on and adjusted it. Quietly, swallowing hard, 
Mike felt the scuffed number on the plate in front of the striped helmet 
where it sat on his dusty head. The helmet fit, bringing a lump to his throat. 
::Oh, Hank. Please be okay.:: he sighed. Then he quickly climbed back 
out of Big Red, and faced the fire.

Conrad ran back over, "Stoker I'm gonna need you to take over 
as incident commander. There's a new development in 
San Bernandino. A firestorm that needs me to join a think tank 
for an hour or so by telecommunications link."

Mike took a quick breath, "Yes sir. What do you have on the way 
in?" he asked, partially numb, feeling all eyes from Engine 51's crew
boring into his and the newly placed helmet. Their shock reflected
his own like a cracked mirror in a jumble of emotions.

"The whole kit and kaboodle from 8's, 2's, 24's and 110's. Squad 26, 
originally for Hank, was swapped as you know, and they should be here 
in seconds for your required paramedic backup crew, okay?" Conrad 
backed off then. He wanted to see how Mike would handle things 
before he went anywhere far away.

Mike cued up the radio as he drifted back to Engine 51 to recheck the 
pressure of the hoselines. "L.A., Engine 51. Update on Battalion 
14's incident.  The tanker is now fully engulfed, wind is from the east,
fifteen to twenty. Respond a foam unit to this location, non code R.
I am the new I.C. for the duration." 

##10-4, 51.##

14 smiled, reassured. He left for a tent going up just down the highway.

Chet snagged Mike's arm as he jogged by to go make a cleared zone
for standby Mayfairs. "You took the cap's test without telling any of us?"

"I took ninety fourth. Does that make you feel any better?" Stoker told him.

"No." 

"I feel exactly the same way." he muttered, once Kelly was out of sight 
under the building, roiling smoke.

Soon after, he ordered everybody into scba gear and full turnout.

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

Photo : Chet looking worried outside. 

Photo:  Cap hurt, down, stunned with  jacket open. 

Photo:  A resuscitator up close.

Photo: Morton on biocom at Rampart, in scrubs.

Photo: Battalion 14, head shot.

Photo: Chief's Battalion car, left side.

Photo: Battalion, Roy, and Johnny night turnouts by squad.

Photo: Fiery train burning on a viaduct.

Photo: Sierra Rescue Rangers and the 51 gang with stokes.

Photo: Squad 51 and Sierra Rescue stokes loading.

Photo: Chopper takeoff. Sierra's, direct.

Photo: Cap's helmet up close on top of the squad.

Photo: Stoker by the engine, looking tense, in a helmet.

*************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> 
Date: Fri Dec 7, 2007 8:28 pm 
Subject: Shattered 

It was an hour later and Station 51 had been
released from the knocked down viaduct train fire. 
No one had been injured or killed. But that was a 
miracle that neither Roy or Johnny could enjoy.

Dr. Brackett immediately closed the chart he
was looking at on a case and intercepted
Roy and Johnny as they came in with an empty
supplies box, still sooty from smoke.

Kel grinned. "So that's your excuse for showing up
at Rampart without a patient, huh?" he gibbed gently.

Gage's face was full of stress. "Doc, you know why.."

Brackett held up his hand in easy defense.
"We're going to be conducting a funduscopic examination in 
a few minutes. We really won't know more until after that. 
I'm sorry. We might be dealing with impending brain swelling 
or a non depressed linear fracture. Mike Stoker called
and said he thought that Stanley's head might have struck
the dashboard when your engine braked so hard."

"So what's the next step?" DeSoto whispered.

Kel sighed, wearily. "Hank may need an ICP Monitor."

Roy pursed his lips, paying very close attention. "What's 
that?" he asked, guarded. "I- I'll need to know that, so I
can tell his wife..."

"It's a device used to measure pressure within the brain.
It consists of a small tube, placed into or on top of the brain 
through a small hole in the skull, connected to a transducer that 
registers the pressure and with it, we can--"

Johnny protested. "Wait a minute, you guys want to stab
a probe into his brain?" He stood there, hands on his hips,
controlling himself out of anger, frustration.

DeSoto echoed him, but softer. "Is it worth that risk, doc?"

Kel was honest, leaving nothing out.
"Yes. We have to know how high his ICP is before we
can do anything else. If you'll excuse me, we're about
to begin." he said. "I'll let you know the moment I hear
about a change."

Gage stopped him. "Is he off the respirator yet?"

"I'm afraid not. He hasn't improved respiratory function yet.
He's still on full support."

The two paramedics fell mute, overwhelmed.

Brackett left, hurrying for the radiography room, leaving
the Squad 51 pair standing there, morosely, and alone.

Out of their visual, Dr. Morton had been listening in the 
hallway to the conversation Dr. Brackett was having with 
his senior most paramedics. ::That's definitely not enough.::
Mike decided, so he flagged the two of them down, offering 
up fresh coffee. He got right to the subject. "You've seen 
his clinical signs and symptoms of acute increased 
intracranial pressure?" he asked, handing off the cups.

Roy nodded, taking the offering. "Yeah, the pupillary 
dysfunction, hypertension, and the bradycardia." He 
gulped his down in one long swallow.

Johnny took his cup, but didn't drink. "What about that earlier 
reported posturing? Does that mean that damage might
happen or already has?"

Morton put an immediate curb on their distress. "Don't jump 
the gun before it's fired, fellas, just hear me out first."

Mike puzzled over their reaction when both flinched,
as they looked at their hands, as if searching 
for missed blood.  He didn't think about it further. He fell into 
what he was good at doing, ..analyzing. "Now boys, as you know, 
increases in intracranial pressure compress the brain within 
the rigid skull, reducing cerebral blood flow, prompting reflex 
hypertension to maintain cerebral perfusion.  As intracranial 
pressure increases further, the contents of the skull can no 
longer remain in place.  Focal increases in pressure, such 
as acute hemorrhages or fluid buildup, can result in gross 
deviations in anatomy. This is what might be happening 
to Hank, I'm afraid."

Gage almost dropped his coffee onto the floor. "Herniation?!"
He had already forgotten completely about it. Mike took it out
of Johnny's hand and set it onto Dixie's empty desk.

Morton held up a reassuring hand. "The term "herniation" is 
used loosely when intracranial pressure increases. But there 
are specific herniation syndromes with different mechanisms 
and outcomes. Some aren't fatal or paralyzing at all. We have 
to find out which one is effecting your captain before we can 
proceed on anything. Once we identify the problem for certain, 
we still can intervene early enough to prevent any further 
permanently damaging effects and migration. Excuse me, 
I'm going to attend his CT session with Kel right now. I'll let 
you know as soon as I find out the answer."

"Don't tell us first, doc. Please tell his family." Roy
said. "They're more frightened than we are."

Morton met DeSoto's eyes and promised that with
a look before he hurried off into the scanning room.

Gage turned to his partner. "Don't you hate the fact
that we have to dump and run all the time? I wish we
could have stayed with Cap the whole time from
the moment we first brought him in here.." he growled.
"That way, we wouldn't be one of those people they
leave in the dark. We'd know EXACTLY what's going 
on.." he sobbed, furious. Angrily, Gage swiped away hot
tears as he threw the box away and headed back for
the squad.

Roy had no answer or comforting words to say either.

Silence reigned the entire trip back to the station.
Worn out and feeling Hank's absense acutely, they
got out of the cab in the bay and headed for the kitchen.

They overheard Chet giving Stoker a hard time.
"What, Stoker? You're the resident skunk now. 
We expect you to raise a little stink, so come on
and tell us how you really feel about wearing 
a striped hat. You can always order Marco and I to
shut up."

Johnny entered the room and erupted. "Would you
just cut that out?! Do you really think that Mike had
any say in the matter at all about filling in and taking 
over?"

Chet didn't cower and he didn't back down, for he was
in just as much pain as the rest of them were.
"I never thought that, and thank you for barging into our
private little trio of conversation. That was really big of 
you." He turned to Stoker. "You know what they say about
paramedics. They think they're demigods or something
just because they save a few lives with fancy drugs we
know nothing about. See how they like to control 
everything? Boy, am I glad neither one of them got skunked
by the chief, or we'd never hear the end of it."

Gage didn't speak, he acted. Johnny grabbed 
Chet by the collar and lifted him to his feet forcefully.

The rest of the gang immediately intercepted, getting
in between the two of them, all talking chaotically at once.

All except Mike Stoker, who didn't move out of his
chair. "Johnny! What would Hank think if I had to put
you on report for--" his voice broke and the single 
sob that slipped out, hit everyone like ice water.

Without a sound, Mike left the room, not for the
office, but for the gym. They all heard the door
slam hard behind him. But its thick steel did nothing
to hide the sounds of crying. 

It was coming through the bullet hole left behind by
Marco's erstwhile alley shooter.

Johnny let Chet go swiftly. "I'm sorry. I... It's just that..."

"I know." said Kelly, setting up the chair that had fallen
over behind him. "I get it." he said. "I don't think any
of us knows how to act anymore when it's not all
on business."

Marco spoke for all of them. "So, are we going to be
taking a flag down half mast tonight? Or not?"

The others looked at Lopez who had spoken the
unspeakable for each, and stared, with sharpness
that went quickly numb.

Finally DeSoto sighed, shaking his head. "It's too soon to tell."

Gage buried a very tired face into his hands. "They'll call."

Chet grew depressed even more. "Same as they always do."

Mike Stoker re-entered the room with a velvet box. Inside
of it were Hank's spare set of double bugles. His face was
dry, but vacant. "Would somebody please show me how 
these go on? I can't seem to remember." His voice broke
again, into agony.

"Sure." said all the others, and they rose to their feet to
help him, instantly. Brother to brother.

Chet patted Stoker on the back. "You did great job out there
today, pal. You should know that. I didn't blister my back. Not 
even once." 

Marco jumped on that bandwagon. "Hey, neither did I. Does
that mean we don't have to polish the chrome?"

Mike snuffled through his tears.. "Maybe.. You did keep your
butts good and safe like he--...like I told you to." he said blankly.

Roy touched his arm. "You can do this. The chief never 
would have kicked you upstairs if he figured you couldn't 
handle it."

Gage handed him a kleenix. "Cap's not going to die."

Stoker blew his nose into it. "You're very certain of that."

"Of course." Gage said, scoffing grandly.

Kelly leaned in and straightened out one of Stoker's new pins.
"That's because we were all over him and did everything
right the first time. So let's hear it for Station 51!"

The gang of five let out a cheer loud enough to trick Henry
into barking from where he was exploring, inside the mop 
cupboard out in the bay.

And that was the first time any of them saw a smile bloom 
sincerely on Mike Stoker's face since that first terrifying moment 
when they all knew that Hank had gone down.

Stoker giggled, pointing over his shoulder. "I think somebody
needs to play." 

"We all do, come on, let's go throw a few tennis balls around 
for him for a little while. It'll do us some good." Johnny invited. 

Kelly dragged to his feet, teasing, "At least Henry's tail's still
wagging." he said as he followed the others out into the garage.

Inwardly, the gang was reassured at last, that everything was 
still fine, except for that one big change that nobody had the
power to undo.

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

Photo:  Roy and Johnny in the hospital, worried.

Photo:   Brackett closeup, wearing surgical greens.

Photo:   Kel in scrubs, talking with DeSoto and Gage.

Photo:   Chet and Marco arguing. 

Photo:   Gage, looking upset by the squad.

Photo:    Roy and Johnny arguing in the bay.

Photo:    Henry, loafing on the couch.

**************************************************
From: Erin James <etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com>
Date: Fri Dec 7, 2007 11:18 pm
Subject: All For Honor 
 
Henry had worn the guys out, mercifully. They all trapsed in to 
wind down for the night. Being the next senior member of the crew, 
Roy decided to ask, "Mike, would you like me to do the flag?"

Mike's eyes reflected the pure agony he felt. "N-no, thanks Roy. I 
want to. No, I have to do it tonight."

Roy could hear the emotion in Mike's voice. "Okay, Mike."

Johnny had walked through the bay and heard Mike. He shot Roy 
a questioning look. Roy waved him off and mouthed, "Keep Chet 
and Marco busy for a bit."

Johnny didn't want to argue and shook his head in the affirmative. 
He quietly exited the bay in search of the other two.  Roy squeezed 
Mike's shoulder and whispered, "Take your time, Mikey, uh, nobody is 
in a hurry."

Mike kept his voice barely even, "Thanks, Roy."

"You're welcome." DeSoto smiled.

Mike stepped away from Roy and walked back to the locker 
room. In seconds, he returned wearing the white gloves that went 
with his dress uniform. Roy walked over and hit the button to open 
the big bay door. Then he stood stock still as Mike passed him. 

The sight of the flags blowing gently in the breeze as the sun 
was setting was almost to much for Roy to handle, but he 
stayed put. He wanted to make sure he was close to Mike, in 
case something happened. 

Mike walked by Roy with a slight nod of his head to acknowledge 
him. He was extremely focused.

::I know what I have to do and I know it's gonna hurt like h*** 
to do it.:: Stoker sighed mentally. Slowly, Mike walked 
out to the flag pole. It was a walk that he had taken too many times 
to count, but this time, it was different. 

This time, he was doing it as a Captain, albeit temporary. 

Mike stepped back and snapped to attention. Then slowly, 
ceremoniously, he brought his arm up in a salute that brought tears 
to his eyes. With wet eyes, Mike lowered his arm and approached 
the flag pole. He slowly undid the rope at the pole and lowered 
the flags down until he could reach the state flag. He then quickly 
ran the stars and stripes back up. 

::I'll do that one just as the sun hits where I want it to.::

 Mike made quick work of folding the state flag. Without a word, he 
turned on his heels and brought the state flag inside. Once it was 
secured into its locker, he took a deep breath. 

::This is going to hurt so much. Can I bear it?:: Mike wondered.
::It's the anniversary of our return back home. And he's not here.::

Again, Roy and Mike acknowledged each other with a simple nod of 
the head. Mike's eyes stung as he walked back outside. He repeated 
the formal walking steps again until he was centered once more
with the flag pole. 

For a second time, he snapped to attention. This time, he brought 
his arm up even slower. 

As he did he turned his eyes, just a bit above the flag and whispered, 
"God speed, C-Commander Billings.  And come home to us soon, 
Cap."

Fighting his welling emotions, Mike walked back to the pole and 
once again undid the rope. He lowered the flag at a medium speed, 
not too slow or too fast but at the right speed. Once the flag was within 
his reach, he tied the rope off. 

::This was never easy to do solo, especially not tonight.:: he thought.

With a slight shake in his hands, Mike began folding the flag, slowly, 
making sure each fold was perfect. As he came to the last folds he 
held the flag to his chest in one hand. With his other hand shaking 
slightly, he unhooked the flag from the rope. 

He made his final folds as the sun backlit the sky in a pinky-purplish 
color, he whispered, "Commander Billings, it was an honor to serve 
under you. And Cap, I will keep the bugles warm, but they are rightfully 
yours. Get well soon, sir. Please hurry."

As he brought the final fold of the flag to his chest, Mike's emotions 
overtook him. He sank to one knee, clutching the flag to his chest
like a lifeline. His head bowed, the tears finally poured forth without 
restraint. Tears for a life taken and tears for another man fighting 
desperately for his. Tears of grief and tears of pain fell and
soaked the driveway of 51's. 

Roy watched Mike sag after he made the final fold and silently walked 
out to his hurting friend. Memories of his time spent in Viet Nam
rose fresh to the surface. He remembered rank and decorum in
a flash and the strength of it took his breath away. Roy put his hand 
on Mike's shoulder as his tears finally slowed and he whispered, 
"You did it, Petty Officer Stoker. The sun's down and it's well and gone. 
Captain? Let's put Old Glory to bed and start that way ourselves." 

Mike looked up at Roy. Navy eyes met understanding Army ones. 
"Can I do this last thing, Sargeant?" he asked, reliving something
far away.

Roy smiled lightly, "You bet your boot straps you can, pal."

Mike bowed his head one last time to regain his composure. Roy 
didn't move from his friend's side. After a minute, Mike slowly got to 
his feet and said quietly, "Thanks, Roy."

"You're welcome."

Together the duo walked back into the station in like step, trying to 
forget an unforgettable day.

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

Photo:  A flag at sunset.

Photo:  Mike Stoker folding a flag at the pole outside Station 51.

Photo:  Roy, on the edge of tears in a close up.

**************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> 
Date: Sat Dec 8, 2007 12:01 am 
Subject: Just Put It In A Nutshell For Crying Out Loud 


Deep on the second floor of the hospital, two doctors
were viewing Cap's CT scan results.

The neuro turned to Kel, pointing. "The suprasellar cistern is 
obliterated. The quadrigeminal cistern is very compressed and 
pushed posteriorly. Here and here.  And there is central 
transtentorial and subfalcine herniation."

"That's definite?" Brackett questioned.

"Yes. See? This shows a shift of the midline structures
and compression of the lateral ventricle secondary either to 
a bleed or edema."

"So we operate.."

"Immediately.." replied the specialist.

Kel, turned to Nurse McCall, who was monitoring Hank's
position on his side so none of his internal lines or catheters
snagged as the great electronic donut continued to encircle him. 
"Dixie start him on additional moderate doses of IV mannitol.
Administer 0.25 - 0.5g/kg over 20 minutes IV. We have
to hurry a little faster on trying to dry out and shrink down 
his cerebrum. How's his CVP?"

"170. The same. And his heartrate's still erratic." she reported.

"Lidocaine. Maintain a beat of seventy. Even it out." Kel
ordered. He turned to the neurosurgeon. "Let's go."

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

In the middle of the night, a phone rang in Station 51. 

Roy DeSoto was the first one to race out of his bed to 
intercept it.  Amid loud scramblings to kick the speaker 
button on, he heard Kel share the first of his news on 
Hank.

##So far so good. He hasn't suffered any seizures.##

Gage couldn't contain himself, scared. "What did you find?
Oh,.. our Mike? He's still sleeping. We covered his head with
a pillow so he wouldn't hear the phone ring..."

Kel smiled on his end. ##Filtering out the bad or good?
I can't argue with that. Look, we found active changes. 
But of an operable type. Captain Stanley has what we
refer to as a transtentorial herniation. The medial 
portions of the temporal lobes and the brainstem 
have slid downward into his infratentorial compartment.  
And that didn't happen this afternoon. That happened 
yesterday, probably very early in the morning."

Kelly sucked in his breath. "Doc, he did hit his head. His
bed fell apart while he and his wife were rolling in the hay. 
Probably around five or so, knowing when his wife gets 
home from work.. Uh, you know how it goes..."

The others smacked him for his indiscretion.

##So his injury was precipitated... That explains a lot.
The coup/contra-coup from the log incident only 
exacerbated what should have been just a mild concussion. 
The clinical signs of that initially include a headache, 
decreasing levels of consciousness, moodiness, 
and an isiplateral fixed dilated pupil from compression 
of the third cranial nerve on the ipsilateral side.##

"We missed that entirely, doc. Cap's got dark eyes."
Roy reported. 

##Easy to do. As herniation worsens, there's
decerebrate, extensor posturing, contralateral 
pupillary dilation and then Cushing's triad occurs.

Now Cushing's triad includes alteration in respiration, 
bradycardia, and systemic hypertension.  It is rare to 
have all three present, but it does occur. Often there is just 
bradycardia alone.  Children tolerate brainstem 
compression produced by herniation better than adults.
I'll be honest with you, things aren't looking good so far.

But immediate, early intervention can result in a complete 
recovery.##

"Doctor Morton said it might." Gage sighed, looking for hope.

Brackett was encouraging. ##Especially aggressive intervention 
at the stage of bilateral pupillary dysfunction, decerebrate 
posturing and bradycardia. Like where your captain's at. He 
has a fifty fifty chance of surviving this injury, fully intact. Don't 
worry, he's not anywhere near a risk of death. You guys 
overcame that when you took over his breathing and airway 
care after you found him apneic. Whoever was with him, 
when he first collapsed, probably saved his life.##

The relieved sighs in the room got louder than Mike's natural 
snoring in the background. And more than one pair of happy
eyes fell on the lump Mike was making under his blankets.

##Now his CT scan shows obliteration of the suprasellar and 
quadrigeminal cisterns.  Those are just spaces gentlemen,
and not actual tissue. They're buffer zones. We'll see later on 
after surgery if those areas include an actual infarct or brainstem 
hemorrhage.##

Chet quailed, understanding at least that last bit. "A stroke?"

Brackett was truthful. ##It's possible.. It's one explanation.##

Kelly lowered his head to hide new tears. "Oh, that's heavy."

Kel was honest. ##Yes, it is. Only time will tell at this point. If
and when he awakens for us.##

Dixie broke into the phone call from a side connection.
##So let's just keep our hopes up. And gentlemen, stop
your blubbering. You're upsetting me, and I'm Hank's best 
nurse. Do you want me to get him upset, too?##

-----------------------------------------------------------------
In surgery, the neurosurgeon shared something
new to Brackett who had only just starting observing. 
"There's obvious bilateral intraventricular CNS leakage 
and ventricular dilatation.  Luckily, his extensor posturing 
only suggested the possibility of impending herniation."  

Brackett was rapt, peering into Cap's open skull. "How so?"

The surgeon clarified. "He sustained more episodes of bradycardia 
but they responded well to your doses of IV mannitol.  So we
neurosurgeons decompressed his ventricles immediately and his 
MAP and ICP returned to normal in seconds. And I'm finding no 
areas of active hemorrhaging."

Brackett whistled under his mask. "Lucky."

The surgeon beamed. "Just like I said."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was almost dawn when Dr. Brackett re-telephoned
the station. Once again, he had a conversation with
the crew in conference.  It wasn't obvious, but
Kel's first words were directed at his paramedics.
"It's looking real good. Already, the anesthesiologist says
he's showing signs of waking up."

Marco let out the breath he was holding. "Oh, that's a relief."

##He should be breathing on his own in about fifteen minutes
once his sedation wears off. His pupils are normal.##

"What was it?" asked Roy.

##Fluid on the brain only. Not an epidural not a subdural or
dural anything. Simply one small tiny leak of cerebral spinal
fluid into his nearest intracortical spaces. No bleeding at all.
As he recovers, about one out of twenty head-injury patients 
will have seizures in the first days following the injury. If his blood 
pressure is stable, dilantin at 18 mg/kg will be given as prophylaxis.
The longer he goes without having one, the better the chances are
that he'll never have them. ##

Gage was firm on anticipating. "Until the next head injury."

Kel yawned, relaxing at last. ##Sorry, the surgery lasted most of
the night. Yes, second impact syndrome remains a future possibility.
That's what I thought this was when I first saw him. If it had been, 
your captain would have been a dead man inside of two minutes. 
Please do me a favor tell him about it when he gets back to work?##

Both Roy and Johnny promised dividends, in stereo. "Oh, you bet. 
We sure will."

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

Photo:  Kel Brackett in CT consult with neurosurgeons.

Photo:  A CT scan of a transtentorial herniation, skull series.

Photo:  Roy on a payphone, closeup in darkness.

Photo:  Johnny in bed, looking worried in the dark.

Photo:  Dr. Brackett calling from his office.

Photo:  Dixie and Kel looking worried as they treat.

Photo: Kel and Dixie looking at you wearing surgical masks.

Photo:  A surgeon's scalpel cutting into a sterile field.

Photo:  Doctors operating on someone anesthetized.

Photo: Roy and Johnny on a payphone, looking thoughtful.

**************************************************
From: Erin J. <etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com>
and lin butler  <psi1whitefeather@msn.com>
Date:  Tue Dec 11, 2007 9:37 pm 
Subject: Welcome Home

It had been a few weeks since Cap's injury and surgery and the 
crew of 51 surrounded the dayroom table. Chet, Marco, and 
Mike were seated there along with Mike's wife, Roy's wife and 
kids. Marco's mom was also present along with the crew 
from Rampart. 

Everybody had been waiting for a while and were sprawled 
everywhere. Even Henry had given up his spot on the couch 
for a comfy spot on the floor with the DeSoto kids. 

Battalion Chief Conrad, along with Sierra Rangers Matt Harper 
and Jack Moore, had arrived to join the gang. And Johnny 
and Roy had just returned in from the bay. Johnny leaned over the 
kitchen table, attempting to make a point. John was on one of 
his famous Gage rants concerning stuff only he knew what, 
to which the others only paid restless attention to. For good reason.

They were all gathered to welcome back Hank Stanley with a 
surprise party. 

Chet and Johnny had been given the task of making sure Hank didn't 
find out about it. Marco was coordinating the food, his mom's cooking, 
and everybody else's pot luck. Roy was in charge of the phone and 
making sure people were staying in touch. 

And it was his idea to contact Conrad and get his blessing for some 
of the things that they were going to do. 

Mike, still somewhat overwhelmed with running the station, was 
on 'Honoring Hank' duty and double checking the station's final 
touch ups. Mike made sure the place was ready, without a complaint
from anyone, and the paperwork was all in. Much to his relief! 

The phone rang and froze Johnny in mid-word attempting to make 
a point that was suddenly forgotten. Being closest to the phone, 
Roy, with an excited tone said, "I got it!"  He picked up the dayroom 
phone said, "Station 51, This is Fireman Roy DeSoto." He listened 
for a moment then said, "Right, got it." and hung up. 
Roy turned to the others, "He's five to ten out." 

Marco quickly translated for his mom as Roy said it to everybody 
else.  As soon as Roy gave a time frame, the room broke into what 
appeared to be controlled chaos. 

They all knew what they were doing and it was the just hubbub of 
getting in to place to surprise Hank. Everybody but A-shift, was 
headed for the dorms. And the gang headed for the engine 
and the squad. Marco stopped briefly to tell his mom he'd be 
right back. She nodded okay and then joined the others as Marco 
hopped on the engine. 

As if they were on a call, both trucks pulled out of the station with 
all their lights going. Everybody was excited.This was no ordinary call. 

This was the call to trick Hank as they welcomed him back. Roy 
led Station 51 down the block and around the corner. The 
smaller squad moved away only far enough to just see the station
left behind. 

Everybody knew what Hank would be driving; he only had the 
one car. And as soon as they saw it, they would pounce. 

On the engine, Chet bounced like a little kid and said repeatedly, 
"Is he there yet? Is he there yet?"

Mike turned around and good naturedly said, "No, but if you don't 
stay good, you'll be in your office while everyone else parties." 

"But I don't wanna be good, I wanna party!"

Chet realized then that he had to calm down or he'd be latrine officer 
for the rest of the day. That quickly settled him down. 

Conrad had cleverly set up L.A. County dispatch to send a signal to the 
guys. The cue for everybody hiding, would be Roy return reply.  

Seven minutes after Roy hung up with Hank's wife, Hank's car was 
spotted from where station 51 was idling along a curb.Two blocks back, 
unbeknowst to Hank, was his wife, parked nearby. Johnny watched 
Hank's car turn into the station parking and then looked over at Roy. 
"It's party time, partner!" he crowed as the infamous Gage grin 
appeared. 

Roy smirked and said, "For the first time in my life, I'll be dying 
to say these words." Roy picked up the squad's radio and said, 
"Station 51, on scene."

Sam Lanier came back. "10-4, 51." 

Ear to ear grins lit up in both trucks and the dorm room at 51's. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the trucks headed back in a short loop, an unsuspecting Hank, 
wearing a dark blue Station 51 polo shirt and khakis, walked 
into the station. He had just ambled into the empty bay when 
Roy's "Station 51 on scene" came blaring over the speaker. 

Hank thought to himself as he looked around at the deserted 
station, ::D*mn it. I should be out there.:: Then he thought as 
he looked up at the speaker, ::Be safe boys, come home.:: 
Then the Captain in him came to the forefront as he awaited
the return of his crew, quietly sitting in his black leather recliner
with Henry.

Much to Hank's surprise that return was faster than he 
expected, for only minutes after Roy had called the station 
on scene, the bay door opened. Concerned, Hank turned and 
walked back into the bay. The station was still his main life 
and he wanted to make sure all was well. As first the engine, then 
the squad backed into the bay, Hank's eyebrows tried to 
climb up into his hairline. ::What the h*ll is going on here?:: 
he thought, watching them settle in.

As the trucks emptied, the crew didn't hide their grins. 
Hank was home. 

Johnny commented with a wave to Hank as he looked 
down at a slightly damp shirt, "I gotta go change before I 
stick to something."

Roy chuckled, "Yeah Junior, I think the department would 
rather you lose a shirt, then they have to replace something else
because you stuck to it."

Johnny headed for the dorms. The rest of the crew grinned as 
they met Hank by the door way leading into the dayroom. Mike
waved too, and asked, "Hey Cap, you want some coffee?"

Hank grinned, "Shouldn't I be calling you Cap, Stoker?" 

Mike blushed to his toes. At the same time Hank's wife arrived 
and joined the hidden parade of people leaving the dorms for 
the kitchen. 

Hank turned at the sound of footsteps in the bay. Before he could 
accept his steaming cup, a rousing "SURPRISE!!" echoed through 
the room. Hank's jaw promptly hit the floor. Hank thought 
::Engage brain, then mouth:: as the shock poured over him.

Grinning from ear to ear A-shift yelled, "Welcome Home Hank!" 
And the rest of the full room erupted in applause. 

Just as the din died down, the tones went off. Naturally, 
everybody turned to listen. Sam's voice rang out, ##L.A. testing with 
Station 51. Welcome back, Captain Hank Stanley.##

Stunned to the brink of tears, Hank walked out into the bay
and over to the radio alcove. He picked up the mic and replied, 
"Station 51, 10-4 KMG 365." Again the station erupted into cheers. 

Hank turned around and softly said, "You're making me cry, 
ya twits." His eyes were moist as he accepted hugs and 
handshakes from all.

From the middle of the crowd Marco spoke on his mom's behalf, 
"Momma is going to have our heads on silver platters if we don't 
eat NOW." Lopez shouted plainatively.

Everybody chuckled and paraded back into the dayroom. 

But one person hadn't yet. Chief Conrad was keeping himself well 
hidden from Hank's sight, waiting for another cue of Henry being
sent in to fetch him.

Hank waited until everybody was crashed with food in either a chair, on the 
couch or on the floor before he spoke. "You guys got me good, 
but can I ask a few things?"

Mike said happily, "Sure."

"Where are all the cars?"

Joanne spoke up with a guilty tone in her voice, "I pulled a few 
strings. They're all across the street at the plant."

Hank chuckled. "Now for the big one, how did you keep me 
from not knowing about this?"

Johnny and Chet both ducked. Johnny said, "Uh, Cap, would you 
believe the Phantom and his Pigeon combined for once on a prank?"

Hank shuttered lightly and said, "Uh-oh." 

Everybody chuckled. 

Mike motioned for Jack and Matt to join him. Together the trio 
walked over to Hank. Hank asked, "What's up, Mike?"

Mike replied, "Cap, I just wanted you to meet the guys from Sierra 
who jumped off the chopper when Johnny and Roy loaded you on. 
These are Rangers Matt Harper and Jack Moore." Mike grinned 
at Matt and Jack, "Guys, meet Captain Hank Stanley." 

Handshakes were exchanged as Hank smiled at them, "Thanks, guys."

Jack said, "You're welcome, sir."

Matt added, 'Welcome back." 

Mike said, "Hey. That's right. If you ever need a couple of good 
linemen, Cap, call these two."

Hank was surprised, "Oh?" ::Recruited to fight a fire? Wow.::

Jack said, "Yeah, it was fun." he remembered, rubbing his hands 
together.

"Good." Hank smiled as he finally understood just how fast his 
engineer had become a Captain on his feet. 

After the quick introduction, the food was enjoyed and so was the 
company. Hank knew he was home at last but he also knew
that more surprises were probably forthcoming. 

He wasn't disappointed. As Hank turned his back to the doorway to 
look over at his wife, Henry pranced out of the room at a cue
from Chet to go fetch a certain somebody.

Seeing him, Conrad snuck towards the back door and quickly 
opened and closed it like he had just arrived. He walked slowly and 
professionally into the kitchen. Mike was the first one to spot him. In his 
Captain's tone, Mike called out, "Station 51, ten hut." 

Mike's words brought the room to a stand still and A-shift. Including 
a surprised Hank, who thought ::Whoa. I've never heard him use 
that tone of voice before:: to their feet. Conrad walked into the 
room and smiled, "A-shift in the bay for inspection that includes 
you, Hank." 

Everybody else was curious to know what was going on and 
followed the firemen filing into the bay. A-shift grabbed their 
dress hats out of the closet and quickly lined up. Conrad 
called, "Hank, please join me in an inspection of your men. 
After all, we want to make sure they're in top shape when 
you come back in the morning."

Hank smiled as he walked over to Conrad, "I'd be honored, sir." 
A pin drop could have been heard as all eyes were glued to 
Conrad and Stanley. 

Conrad stepped back and let Hank inspect his men. Not a word 
was spoken as Hank looked over each man. He started with 
Johnny and noted. ::His hair is shorter, at least for Gage and 
dang, that's his hat!:: With a smile, Hank moved on to Chet. 
::Man this must be important. Chester B. is actually at attention. 
Am I really that respected?:: Next was Marco. Hank saw the smile 
and the look in his eyes and thought ::All is well.:: Roy was next 
and Hank had to smile at the relief in his senior medic's eyes 
as he thought. ::I'm home.::

Finally it was Mike's turn. This was the hardest, for Mike had been 
the one to catch him when he first went down. Hank knew he 
had Mike to thank for his life. 

Tears shone in both pairs of eyes as relief mixed with gratitude 
without a word being exchanged.  Hank grew concerned as 
he noted Mike seemed nervous for some reason, which wasn't 
like the quiet engineer at all. ::I wonder why.::
 
Hank was just about to step away from Mike when Conrad said, 
"Captain Stanley, I do believe you're out of uniform."

Slightly confused, Hank turned, "Sir?"

Mike took a final breath and cut off Conrad before he could 
speak. "Uh sir, I know it was your wish to do this, but with 
all due respect I'd like to. No sir, I need to do this."

Conrad smilled at the soft spoken Engineer, "Sure, go ahead 
Stoker. You deserve it." 

Hank's confusion grew as Mike broke rank and stepped 
in front of him. Hank asked, "What...?"

Mike cut Hank off and said, "Hank,.. uh,..Captain Stanley. The day 
you went down I was handed a set of bugles for safe 
keeping. I've kept them warm, but with your permission, sir, 
I'd like to give them back to their rightful owner."

Eyes were wet around the bay as Mike, with shaking hands, 
removed the bugles from his own collar. Hank fought his own 
emotions as he watched his Engineer turned
Captain give up the bugles that meant so much to both of 
them. Then Mike once again looked at Chief Conrad, 
"Sir, with the department's permission I'd like to 
re-pin Captain Stanley's bugles on."

Conrad swallowed a lump in his throat and said, 
"Permission granted, Engineer Stoker. You'll get your 
own set soon for good one day."

Mike smiled and snapped to attention with the bugles 
in hand. He clicked his heels and turned to face Hank, 
who had also come back to attention. Slowly, 
purposefully, Mike re-ranked Hank, setting one silver bugle 
on each side lapel. Then stepped back and saluted his 
Captain. 

The rest of A-shift also saluted Hank solemnly formal.

Stunned at the gesture, Hank returned the salute to not 
only Mike but all the rest.

After a few moments to regain emotional control, Hank 
said, "Mike."

"Yeah Cap?"

"When you get your bugles, I want to decorate you."

Mike smiled warmly, deeply moved. 
"Wouldn't miss it. Welcome home, Cap."

With the ceremony out of the way, the party continued. 

Finally, grudgingly it was time to go. 

Slowly, the families broke away. Chief Conrad and the
forest ranger rescuers left, and so did Hank's wife. 

It was just A-shift back together again for the first 
time in way too long. Hank looked the members of his 
fire family in the eye and said, "Thank you."

Together they all smiled and chorused, "You're welcome, 
Cap."

Hank smiled, "Okay ya twits. The party's over. It's time to go 
back to work." he chuckled, "I'll see you guys in the morning." 

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

Photo:   Dixie with long hair in street clothes close up. 

Photo:    Dixie hugging Henry.

Photo:    Joanne, Dixie, Kel at a party in nice clothes, drinking.

Photo:   Morton and Roy at a table with Johnny dickering nearby. 

Photo:  Joe Early having a blast, entertaining in a gray suit.

Photo:   Closeup of Henry.

Photo:   Marco's mom cooking tortillas.

Photo:   The gang getting into their vehicles in the bay.

Photo:   The gang laughing in the kitchen. Marco, Stoker, Roy and Johnny.

Photo:   Chief Conrad close at the station.

Photo:   Cap with the gang in an inspection line.

Photo:   Cap in inspection dress shaking Battalion's hand.

**************************************************
From: "Patti" <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com>
Subject:  The "Cap" Endcap
Date: Dec 12, 2007 2:39 am 


Hank found Mike heading out to the front for his usual
habit of putting out the station's color flags for the day. 

Already, it was warm and breezy, even with the sun just 
barely off the horizon.

"It's sure promising to be a hot one, eh?" Stanley asked,
announcing himself as he got near.

"Yeah, especially this early in the year." said Mike.
"How are you doing? Does it feel funny being back 
at work?"

"Not really." Stanley said, helping him unfold the flags
one by one and hooking them up to their snaffles on
the pulley rope. "It's something I've been looking 
forward to. No physical therapy, no neurological
assessments,..." he took in a deep breath, "...no
more unnecessary naps." he said with distaste.

Stoker chuckled. "That was your wife's doing."

"Yeah, well she's done quite enough, thank you. 
I got restless. And as soon as I was physician cleared
to return. I came." he shrugged.

"I'm glad you're back, Cap. We've missed you." Mike
said, tying off the rope as the chains rang against
the aluminum pole as the flags reached the height.

"Now that, I find hard to believe." Stanley pegged with
a stare.

"It's true."

Hank smiled, and dropped his chin to his chest,
shaking his head ruefully. "I don't even have to ask
the chief how you've been doing. The place is clean,
the paperwork's in order, the trucks are spotless..."
he looked up at Mike and wondered. "Did you have to
do a lot of yelling to get them to get the chores done?"

Stoker began to squirm. "Not exactly, Cap. I.. really didn't
have to tell them anything. Things just.. sort of.. got done."
he said uncomfortably.

"Really?" Hank was genuinely astonished. Then he frowned
jealously. "Saying nothing and waiting never seems to work for
me." he admitted. "And I've never been able to figure out quite
why.."

Mike just came out with it. "It's the grumble factor, Cap."

It was Stanley's turn to stammer a bit. "The gr--  oh, you mean... 
what I do..when I..... you know."

"Give orders?" Mike suggested.

"Yeah..." Hank said, relieved that Mike guessed it. "Is it really that
bad to get 'em from me?"

Now Mike smiled. "Not on a call. Never then. But sometimes, 
in between them, on the sleepless days." he confessed.
"But we all know it's just your personality type.." Mike nodded
vigorously. "You're a shy guy and like to hide behind a little bluster."

"I do?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Well. Uh, if you say so." Hank muttered, frowning as he mulled 
it over. "Kind of like how you don't say anything much for the same
reason?"

Mike chortled.. "Yeah. These last past few weeks have sure stretched
my comfort zone. I didn't think I could handle it."

Hank stretched and retrieved his morning cup of coffee from off
the nearby fuel pump. "You were the only one, according to the 
rest of the guys. And I'm not talking about Conrad here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They told me what you did. How fast you took over the day
I blacked out. 'Never hesitated' I believe was the phrase used in
the chief's report after he talked to Marco and Chet about it."

"Now why would he do that?"

"Why do you think? Hank grinned. 

Mike immediately turned red. "Oh, not another one. I hate getting those."

"No, you don't. You love em. This'll be your eleventh commendation
since you signed onto my station. Congratulations early.." he said,
taking Mike's hand into a handshake.

Mike shuffled a shoe's toe in the sand next to the flagpole, not
saying anything after releasing his grip.

Stanley regarded Stoker for a long time, grateful to have such
a good man by his side. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"What does?" Mike said, checking to make sure the tied off
ropes stayed tied on the pole.

"The helper's high. What every firefighter feels when he saves a life."

Mike finally regained his smile. "Or a home."

"Or a few gallons of water during drought restrictions.." Hank grimaced, 
chuckling.

Mike groaned in remembrance. "What a crazy set of ordinances. 
Limiting how much hydrant flow we use to follow up on a knocked 
down fire."

Hank fell into easy agreement, folding his arms together as he
leaned companionably against the flagpole. "Isn't it though? What 
other ordinances did you see in the book that you didn't like so much?"

"The evaluation procedures. They're so.. regimental. I mean, 
as a station, we're supposed to be friends, right? And can talk 
about anything because we work together, eat together, we bunk in 
the same room.." he ticked off on his fingers. 

Hank pursed his lips, taking a swallow from his ceramic mug thoughtfully.
"That's the ideal picture, yes."

"Well, then why did I feel so alone and left out having cap's rank?"

"It's lonely at the top?" Stanley shrugged. 

"It doesn't have to be."

Hank frowned. "It does for me. If I didn't gruff, no one would respect me."

"Now that isn't true at all.." Mike said in all honesty. "Have you tried it?"

"Once." Stanley admitted, biting a nail subconsciously.

"What happened?"

"I got beer cases mysteriously appearing in my locker with requests
for days off, with ribbons tied around em."

Stoker laughed. "Nice! What ever was wrong with that? They were gifts, 
you know. Probably bonding offerings."

"I don't drink." Hank gruffed. "And next time the chief puts you in 
my shoes, let me leave you with a little advice about handling the men
so you don't have to do any chores yourself.." and he leaned in and
whispered something in Mike's ear.

Stoker's mouth dropped open. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"I can't wait to give it try. So when's the next time you think you're gonna
get laid up?"

"Never." Stanley snorted. "It's kind of embarrassing having to be rescued
by your own men for no good reason."

"Cap, you were hurt.." Mike said.

"From what? A little arm lock on a dashboard and a bed failure during--"

"Ah! You don't have to say how again." Mike said, holding up a hand.

"Anyway, I appreciate what you did for me. I would have been 
showered, powdered, primped in my dress uniform, and being pulled 
by a flag covered horse drawn carriage if you hadn't've been right there
to end that particular sad possibility. Well, ..." Cap scratched his head.
"What I'm really trying to say is--" he said, embarrassed.

"You're welcome." Stoker said, "It's what firefighters do for living, so
just count your lucky stars." Mike said, eyeing up the line of sight the flags
that they had raised together, now rippling in the morning's light. 

"I am.. All fifty one of them." he said, pointing his finger at Mike for
the last one.

Mike was good enough to blush at the compliment.

Hank took him by the shoulders, gratefully. "Come on, let's go inside
and grab some breakfast."

"Is it any good?"

"I'm cooking today."

"Then let's go. I'm starved. I always am after raising a flag or two." Mike 
said, walking with him.

"Ah,..." said Cap in discovery."So that's why you do this everyday."

"Yep." Mike beamed, all trace of his shyness gone.

"Neat trick. All this fresh air."

"Figuratively speaking." Miked scoffed, referring to California's smog. 

Cap was undiscouraged. "All right if I join you from now on?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Cap." Stoker said, his eyes sparkling
in tears of happiness.


FIN

Episode 49, Season 6
The Helper's High
Emergency Theater Live

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

Photo:   Cap smiling with Stoker.

Photo:   Stoker putting up the flag in the morning.

Photo:   A purply orange sunset.

Animation:  A flag blowing in a sunny breeze.

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