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

Emergency Theater Live, Episode Twenty Five

25. The Overhaul Principle  Season Four- Episode 25
 
Short summary-
A Gage rival comes to roost at the station. Rampart comes under 
fire and Dixie inherits the position of head of triage.


****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-
Johnny goes to nap in the bunkroom and wakes up hours later
to find Brice checking his lifesigns at his neck. Gage learns of Paramedic
Craig Brice's transfer to his work shift. He and the gang respond to a gravel
works accident involving a conveyer belt and a heatstroked child rock 
buried in a car. Fatigue afterwards causes Gage to fall asleep in the squad.
Marco and Cap both feel trepidations about the bad gravel works call and talk
about it privately. Brice and Gage set up a mutual joke for the rest of the station
gang to suffer and they bring Kel, Joe and Dixie in on it, too. Nurse Carol and Dr.
Early are caught in a hostage situation when a disgruntled patient pulls out
a gun at Rampart. Police Officers Jim Reed and Pete Malloy of Adam 12 arrive 
with Station 51 when a fire alarm at the hospital is pulled. Dixie treats a shot 
orderly and shows a student nurse how to triage when she becomes head of 
triage during the Code Dr. Black, lethal weapons used emergency. Joe
Early is found head injured and being held hostage by the rampant patient's
wife in the man's patient room. Johnny and Brice effect a clever rescue. Later,
they spring their joke on the others at the station using a parade route and a box
of soda cans.


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The Story Unfolds...

Season Four, Episode Twenty Five..
 
 §§   The Overhaul Principle     §§
 
Debut Launch: September 1st, 2005. 


**************************************************
From: "Roxy Dee" <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> 
Date: Sat Sep 3, 2005  6:27 pm 
Subject: The Transfer~~ 


Nine p.m. was only half an hour old when Johnny Gage decided
to beg off a Sunday night challenge of cards and chess with the 
others. "Night all, I'm going to bed. I can't keep my eyes open
any more."

Chet Kelly looked up in surprise from the seriously aggressive war
game he was currently engaged in with Marco Lopez. "What's the
matter? You sick or something?  Roy, are you paying attention here?
The perpetual night owl's turning in before any of us for a change."

Roy, engrossed in the Bogart movie on the tiny black and white,
didn't even look up. "I heard ya.. Enjoy the peace and quiet 
while it lasts.  Chet, he's not sick. If Johnny was sick, he'd be 
complaining about how bad he feels to everybody with every gory
detail of symptomology. You know how he is.."

"Thanks a lot, partner.." Johnny grumbled, rubbing his eyes as
he shuffled to a halt by the kitchen door leading out to the bunk 
room. "Nice to know I rate a full vote of confidence around here."

"Only when you're on a firehose or at the working end of a 
defibrillator, Gage. Don't get so bent out of shape. I mean,
who knows your personality better than the guys who work
side by side with you just about every day of your life?" Kelly
said. "You should take advantage of this free status check from us, 
Johnny. It might teach you a few things about yourself that you don't 
usually know about when your physical chips are down. We can see
how you really are when you're not even aware of it." Kelly added
secretly, right as Marco cleaned him out of a set of aces at the end of 
a three stacked face off in their war game. "Marco! That's not fair. 
You already have two others.."

"That's how the cards fell, Chet. Sorry." Lopez grinned, 
completely unapologetic. He eagerly scooped them up into
his discard pile. "Johnny, don't listen to them. Hope you sleep
sound. Don't worry, I'll keep him quiet for ya." Marco said tossing 
his head at the fidgetty Chet.

"Thanks, Marco. I appreciate that. And I think I will. The
weather's cooling off for the fall and it took me by surprise.
This time of year always makes me bushed when it does that. 
Hot during the day, then down right freezing at night. Messes with 
your metabolism.." Gage mumbled while yawning.

"That and a few other things.." Chet quipped.

Cap looked up from the sink where he was washing dishes.
"Shush, Kelly. Let him go to bed unmolested or I'll send you to yours
too, for picking on him when he's not dishing it out to defend himself."

Kelly plugged it up.

Johnny just threw his hands at them all in sleepy disgust without
looking at anybody, and scratched his frumpy hair. 

Gage never remembered hitting his pillow.



That was a distinct disadvantage when he was awakened hours later
by a cool set of fingers digging into his neck for a light pulse check.
"Ahh!! Get off me..." he mumbled, shoving the hand away angrily.
"I'm fine, don't be stupid." he said without even looking who it might be.

A mild voice, neutral of reaction, met his comment evenly. "I've
been called many things, Mr. Gage, but I believe that's the first
time anyone's ever called me unintelligent."

Recognition flared unpleasantly clear and Johnny rolled over
and shot up bolt upright in shock. "Brice? What the heck are y--
Why are you here now?" He shook cobwebs out of his head
and immediately tempered his sarcastic tones for sake of civility.
"I mean, wait a minute, I knew you were coming to the station, but
I thought you were transferring into C shift on the other rotation.."

"I was, until yesterday. Then I did a little more calculating and 
decided that my financial budgetting would best be managed,
if I took A shift. Captain Stanley was kind enough to push my 
paperwork to the proper channels necessary to accomodate
my needs." Craig said, pushing up his glasses. "If you're 
wondering why I'm sitting on your bed, the explanation is
that Captain Stanley asked if I'd check to see if you were
still breathing since you slept right through what they called,
the midnight popcorn feast.." Brice frowned in confusion.

"Oh, Brice.. He was just kidding. Why do you always have to take
things so literal all the time? If I was sick, do you think I'd be
in here by myself, being allowed to sleep, unmonitored?"


"That's true. You'd be evaluated at Rampart for any detrimental
health effects and then you'd either be allowed to stay at work or
be sent home on doctor's orders, to recover from them." Brice 
reasoned.

"So they got to you, too, huh..." Johnny said mildly, pulling the
blankets a little tighter around his shoulders.

Brice said nothing, freezing in place at the sudden sharing of
confidence.

"Don't worry about it. Sometimes their joking gets under my
skin, too. You should have seen me when the water cans were
flying thick.. But between you and me, I know humor's not your 
strong point."

Brice finally looked up from adjusting the pair chrome silver
pens he carried a little straighter in his paramedic's shirt pocket. 
"I appreciate your honest observation about me. But how are we going 
to...." he bit his lip and said without emotion."..get back at the other guys?"

"By doing nothing." Johnny's sleepy face cracked into a huge devil's grin.
"Or better yet.. Grab a bunk.."

The dim light from the moon outside glinted faintly in Craig's glasses.
"I'm afraid, I don't understand."

"Copy what I'm doing. It'll drive them crazy trying to figure it out.
That way, we both can get our revenge on them for teasing you into
vitals checking me." Johnny grinned.

Brice thought about it without moving, but then he suddenly fell
into a convincing yawn. "Gee, I'm suddenly feeling a little tired.
A nap sounds like a good idea. Who's bunk shall I take over?"

"Definitely Kelly's....Opposite Roy's directly across other side of 
the aisle." said Gage, rolling back over to bury
his head under his pillow. "If this works, Roy'll be in here
himself with a penlight and stethoscope to check on BOTH 
of us inside ten minutes. Sometimes, I think he's more gullible
than me at stuff like this. Don't worry, Brice.  We won't have the 
wool pulled over our eyes for much longer. All we
have to do to is just go to sleep to get it all back."

Brice was soon snoring as loudly as Johnny from where
he laid out neatly on his back with his hands folded over
his chest. 

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

Photo:   Roy and Johnny reading in the kitchen.

Photo:  Johnny having a nightmare.

Photo:  Craig Brice leaning over somebody by the squad.

Photo:  The gang putzing in the kitchen on off time.

Photo:  Station 51 in the dead of night.

******************************************************************
From :  Cory Anda <andacory@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Sunday, September 18, 2005 9:42 PM 
Subject :  Double Indemnity.. 


The two paramedics never got a chance to see their counter
move joking ruse bait, bitten. The tones went off before another 
half an hour had gone by.

Gage groaned as he threw on his night trousers, attached 
suspenders and boots. He was about to check aloud verbally
about whether or not Craig Brice had dug his own out of consignment 
yet from Headquarters, when he realized that the door leading from 
the pitch black bunkroom was already swinging back and forth from the
sandy haired fireman's rapidly disappearing departure. The natural
level of irritation he normally felt around the man flared even greater.
:: He's way ahead of me as usual again, d*mn it.:: Johnny thought as he 
squinted and rubbed bleary eyes as he jogged to the squad's passenger 
side fender. He opened the door and then stopped when he found the 
center seat between him and Roy empty. "Where's Brice?"

"He'll be riding with the engine until you two work out some kind of
rotation about who gets to ride where when we respond to all of
our rescue calls." DeSoto replied with a grin. He was enjoying his
partner's major sleepies immensely. "You missed a really good
late show and a whole lotta popcorn."

L.A.'s information broadcasted as the station klaxon tones
completed their cycling. ##Station 51. Unknown type rescue at the 
gravel pit. 128 Live Oak Avenue, cross street North Western Avenue.
128 Live Oak Avenue, cross street North Western Avenue. Time out,
0256.##

Hank's ringing radio acknowledgement of the call and slamming fire 
vehicle doors finally jolted Johnny into full wakefulness."I'll live. All
I need is a little fresh air. Maybe we'll get a high angle extrication so I
can just hang out and get a lungful or two.. And speaking about passenger
riding, why won't you be rotating on and off the engine with Craig Brice's
new work schedule?"

"Seniority ranks, Johnny. But I wouldn't pull that argument for yourself
in front of Cap if I were you. I bet if you look at the numbers, Craig's been 
around longer than you have with the department."

Gage was about to smart off a retort when the truth of that fact bit home.
He tried to content himself with rolling down the squad window so the cool 
smoggy autumn night blew into his face. He set a grumpy elbow on the 
edge of the door frame after writing down their response address on a 
piece of paper.

"Sleep well?" Roy asked as the squad straightened out on the boulevard
and sped for the nearby highway.

"How do ya think? Take one good look at these bloodshot eyes and just
take a wild guess, pal. I hope Brice gets assigned a bunk down Cap's way,
because he snores louder than Chet does when he's sleeping." Johnny 
snapped.

"Glad I've got a set of ear plugs under my pillow." DeSoto sighed, not
reacting to his partner's grumbling. "I've told you a hundred times to go grab
a pair from the pharmacy at Rampart along with the shoelaces you're always
borrowing from me to replace the ones ya break all the time."

"I will. I will." Gage insisted self defensely. "Trust me. I'll go get a pair the next
time we resupply at the hospital. How else am I gonna get any sleep any more?"

"You could always go a few rounds on the punching bag Stoker hung out in
the yard." Roy said. "I'm sure that'll work out some of the restless overtired
energy I'm seeing pouring out of ya tonight."

"Energy? You call this excess energy? I'm plum beat, Roy. That nap did 
absolutely nothing for me."

"Sorry, I couldn't tell. You hardly seem different from the usual."

"Very funny. Just drive and keep your thoughts to yourself, okay? And hang 
a right here on the off ramp. The Peck water conservation park's around 
the corner past those trees."

Roy smiled bigger and shook his head ruefully as Johnny's groggy attempts
at hasty finger hair grooming finally panned out and he watched as
Johnny belatedly remembered to shove on his fire helmet. "That sign
we passed a couple of minutes ago beat ya to it. I'm way ahead of you."

"So's Brice it seems..." Johnny grumbled.

"What did you say?" Roy asked over the loud wail of the squad's sirens.

"Nothing!" Gage said, pulling on his chin strap. "Pretend I'm just sitting here 
looking pretty.."

Roy curbed another amused grin to spare Johnny a last shred of dignity. 
He never understood why broken sleep always brought out the worst in
Johnny. ::Or in the rest of the gang for that matter. Maybe I got my immunity
from it for having two kids to raise the last eight years or so.:: he decided.

Soon, they were there.



A construction foreman immediately ran up to Cap, taking Hank's
immediate appearance and physical stature, as the one 
man in charge. "We're so glad you guys are here.." the man gasped 
under the night lights of the gravel quarry. "The problem's two fold. 
One of my workers is stuck and a child's trapped under one of our transfer 
conveyor belts in a car over there."

Cap understood the first part, but the second, took him aback."What? 
A child? In a car at the bottom of a gravel pit?"

"Yeah, the city gang buries cars in here all the time to try and 
hide em from the heat when they steal em. They think covering them up 
with gravel's the smartest idea in the world for their auto hustling ring.
We try to thwart em with dog patrols and security guards, only the place's
so big we can't watch over everywhere and we never usually find
them all until the gang sneaks back in to collect em. We're guessing
that this kid must've snuck in here playing earlier in the afternoon and 
got caught by the gang while they were hiding one. Twenty
minutes ago, one of us heard shouting under the rock pile beneath 
this belt's fall/dump. Only our man got in trouble trying to find him.
We're guessing that this kid's been locked up inside a trunk."

Cap held up his glove. "Get back to your victims' locations. Show us 
where." he ordered.

The anxious man, surrounded by a core of determined tool wielding workers,
motioned quickly. "This way." And around the firemen, the pit crew 
suddenly split into two groups arrowing into the surrounding spot lit darkness.

Hank immediately dissembled. "Brice, Roy. Check out that child's situation.
Chet, help em out. Johnny and the rest of you, come with me with all the 
tools you can carry and plenty of rope!"

"Don't bother. We've got plenty in use right now, mister." the foreman
said hastily with a hint of anger. "Come on, come on! Marty can't wait much
longer. He stopped screaming a couple of minutes ago."

"Ok..ok. Calm down a little. Getting excited's the last thing that'll help these
people, ok?" Hank said gently. "Gang, you heard him. Skip the extrication gear. 
Let's move."

As Cap's group ran to the accident site, the sweating highly agitated 
foreman filled them in. "This belt became overloaded causing the electrical 
breaker to trip!" he shouted over the roar of chistles and jack hammers hastily 
being applied from an area just ahead of them in the heavy dusty gloom. "I shut 
down the entire line and Marty went to try and fix everything, like he always does, 
to clean away spilled material on the sides of the belt with a front end loader, 
only this time, he was assisted by Scotty, d*mn it all." 
The foreman bit his lip in sudden guilt and worry. "The kid's a truckdriver 
recently hired by the company. He didn't know what he was doing down there. 
Scotty told Marty that he was going to the breaker panel to turn the power 
back on after the jam was clear. He told everybody specifically to stand 
clear of it while he went to start up the belt again."

"I don't understand." said Cap. "I'm assuming Marty's your man who's trapped."

"Yes, yes. Here's what happened!" urged the foreman as the firemen strode
deeper and deeper into the heart of the central gravel pile underneath the conveyor
belt. "The electric panel for the conveyor belt's at a location out-of-sight of this
far end. There's always a few minutes delay when someone does a restart because
of this long walk over to the panel area. Only this time, Marty must have noticed that 
the discharge chute from the incoming belt was also clogged. We figured
that he must have climbed up onto the belt to clean the secondary chute. When he
did that, Scotty didn't know about it and turned the jam breaker back on. Marty fell 
down on the moving belt when it jerked to life again."

Cap started shaking his head in pure high level professional frustration as 
the tale unfolded unpleasantly. The foreman noticed. "You gotta understand. 
Marty's a very big man, in excess of 300 pounds. He couldn't easily get up or 
jump off the belt. Marty tried to yelled at Scotty, who ran alongside him, to shut off 
the belt from the other end, but Scotty wasn't familiar enough with the conveyor 
system and he couldn't find the emergency shut-off switch in time before--"

Johnny hastened to the point. "Ok, that's how it happened. Just tell us
how Marty's hurt. That's the most important information right now."

The foreman wiped his face with a filthy rag from the back pocket of his overalls.
"Scotty says Marty rode the belt for about 30 seconds, the entire length of the 
conveyor, before being pinned under an end angle iron motor bracing."

Gage winced. "Traumatic asphyxiation for sure, Cap." 

Stoker ran back towards the engine. "I'll get the O2 tank and the intubation kit."

"And a full adult sized spine board with sand bags. " Cap added.

"Hurry!" Gage shouted after him. Soon, the wiry paramedic and the others
reached the spot where Marty's gravel dusty leg protruded from a knot of
belt cloth and metal. Already, gravel works employees were frantically digging
with shovels, crowbars and brute force to try to free their coworker.
"Has he moved?" Johnny shouted to them.

"No." one of them replied. "Not for a long time." 

Gage, being the skinniest firefighter, took off his overcoat and helmet and
crawled onto the halted gravel strewn belt into the feeder hole on top
of Marty's partially pinned body and stomach. The whole way inside,
he felt for signs of respiration with his gloves. He found none. "Not
breathing. I'm going for his head!" his muffled shout echoed from out
of the hole.

Cap snapped an order. "Marco, get in there with him. Help him any way
you can."

Lopez peeled his coat and helmet, too. Hank stopped him with a touch on
the leg. "Take this with you!"  He passed off a pack of oral airways that
he always carried in his turnout's jacket pocket. Then he pulled out his
HT. "Roy, Brice. Our victim's spotted, not breathing. Gage and Marco
are going in to aid him. Let me know the first second you know what 
you have out there with the minor. I'll call PD for you to get a court
ward consent for treatment on him or her but note this...
after your word only....that we have a survivor."

##10-4, Captain Stanley.## replied Brice over his radio.

There was grunting from the hole and Cap hung onto Gage's
and Marco's boots and they worked deeper into the tiny space
at the end of the gravel shunt feeder bin nearest Marty's head.
"Easy. Easy.. Some of this loose stuff's working its way down."

"Ok, Cap. We almost have his head freed up!" Marco shouted
in a strained voice.

Cap didn't like the tight quarters. He turned to the guilt ridden foreman,
gaining assurances. "Do I have your absolute guarantee that that
feeding circuit breaker's locked off?"

"You do, I locked the panel access cage up myself before I came
running outside to meet you.. Oh my G*d, Marty. I got ya in so
much trouble. I'm so sorry. I- I knew I should've been more firm
with the boss about making the changes you pointed out around here.
I- I know we should have had the starting and stopping of the belt possible 
from the same location."

Scotty, the new employee, was standing nearby and was thoroughly 
tear stained and crying. "That starting should have also included a 
warning alarm, Miller! And I should've been briefed on where all the
switches were before you even put me to work on the line!"

"It's my fault.." mumbled the foreman. "It's.." he stumbled against a
shaft piling. "Oh, my G*d. What have I done?"

"Don't you mean what DIDN'T you do?" snarled Scotty.

Cap ignored the pit men and began poring over his two men with Marty.
"How is he?" he shouted into the gap along the belt where the two 
firemen were struggling to unbury Marty.

There was a long delay inside the hole. Then Johnny's voice came
over the HT. Two short words. ##Code F.##

Cap sighed and slammed both gloves against the side of the inert gravel
belt and he lifted his head to fight down a crush of emotional pain.

The foreman got back onto his feet. "Code F? Wh-what's a code F? I-is
that some kind of rescue code?" he asked hopefully. "If there's anything
I can do for Marty, just a---"

Scotty interrupted in a rage and a new flood of tears. "That's F for fatality
Miller. Marty's dead!  Remember that for the rest of your pathetic life. 
A good man died today because of your unwillingness to confront your
boss, and his death is entirely ..your ...fault.  I sure hope someday you
can learn to live with this, cause I know I sure won't. Not ever....."
he glared softly dangerous. "I quit right after I talk one to one with the cops.
There was no excuse for this happening, Miller. None. I've never seen 
such a shoddy excuse for a twenty four hour gravel operation in all my 
working days."

Hank and the others broke out of their listening shock between the two
gravel works men and fell into immediate action. Cap grabbed first Gage's 
legs and then Marco's to hasten their progress off the belt. Then he yelled at
Stoker over radio to get the resuscitation and spinal gear out to DeSoto 
and Brice instead. Cap added one thing more. "Gage, leave your clothes 
shears on his chest so the MSHA investigators know that we got in there 
first for a victim's vitals check. Disturb absolutely nothing else getting 
back out here, guys. Remember everything you did in there in close 
detail and what you touched." he said in barely controlled fury.

Gage and Marco soon fled for the site of Brice and Roy's situation
with Cap running close behind them. 

They found...

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

Photo: Cap speaking with a helmeted construction worker.

Photo:  A gravel works emergency stop panel.

Photo:  Two workers digging in a very large deep hole.

Photo:  A working conveyor at the bottom of a gravel pile. 

Photo:  A dirt buried car.

Photo:  Brice, Roy and Johnny in turnout gear, getting ready
             for a rescue operation.

********************************************************************
From :  Champagne Scott <chameleonkate@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Wednesday, September 21, 2005 1:11 PM 
Subject :  Saved From a Tomb... 


...them easily under the gravel pit's night spotlights three
minutes later.

Roy didn't even ask why his partner and Marco had returned 
so quickly from the conveyor belt site. He already knew.

Brice was directing gravel workers and Chet on where to dig
to try and locate landmarks on the buried car so that they could
reach a window or even better, the rear trunk compartment. 

But it was like shoveling inside of a sand funnel. As fast as gravel 
was removed, more slid in immediately to take its place back
into any hole made by the workers.  

Kelly shouted. "We got problems, Cap!  This pea gravel's
like water. We can't make any headway!"

Hank jogged to where Roy and Brice were kneeling on top of
the hood of the buried stolen automobile. "Wanna cut into the 
car from up there?"

"I don't think that'll be a good idea, Captain Stanley." said
Craig Brice. "The interior'd only get buried as well. If we
can get by with a visual looking inside, that'll be good enough
to determine where the child might be trapped."

Hank nodded in agreement. "And I'm sure the car's owner
would appreciate minimal damage as well." He rubbed his
lip. "How about a front end loader, digging a channel to 
the trunk? The foreman mentioned they use one of those 
a lot to find these cars when they encounter them."

"Bring it on in, Cap. And hurry. We don't know how long our 
child's been in these low air conditions like this." Roy fretted.

Brice looked up from lying on his stomach. He had peered into a
window from its top edge, looking upside down with a
flashlight. "The car's empty! I'm only seeing beer cans, 
spent shotgun shells, and I'm smelling a whole lot of alcohol 
in here."

"What nice car crooks, gang. Don't ya love it?" snapped Johnny.  
"Not only do they hide what they steal from the police, they mess it 
up, and then endanger kidnapped small children while going about 
their business as usual. Makes you wanna--" 

"Easy, partner." said Roy. "First thing's first. I promise I'll let you
get into a few faces once the cops find them later on. Right now let's
just concentrate on undoing some of the mischief by rescuing that kid 
first."  Then he froze in place. "Shhh.. I think I hear something." he
said, angling his helmeted head.

But then the front end loader started approaching, and drowned out
all chance of anyone hearing any subtle noises.

Gage looked up for the heavy equipment driver eagerly. "Over
here! Over here! Nice and easy.."

Brice scrambled out of the way of the work crews and shouted.
"I'll call Rampart and let them know we almost have a victim. Sir,
making that phone call now for court authorized treatment might
be prudent."

Hank nodded, only slightly raising his eyebrows at Craig's formal
demeanor, and jogged over to the squad's cab for a quiet place
to call L.A. and the police department.

Johnny and the others watched as the front end loader slowly bit
into the flowing rivers of gravel. Its appetite soon won a solid dirt 
path leading right up to the very rear of the gang buried car.

Stoker went running, "I'll get lines from the engine. We can pull it out
using them tied around our bumper and their loader's, in reverse
gear!"

"Make it happen!" Hank agreed, missing nothing from where he sat.

Marco yelled. "I'll get a crowbar!"

Chet said, "I'll get the gear laid out." And he fell to
work spreading a yellow plastic treatment sheet onto the damp
dirt of the roadway. He quickly placed the resuscitator, defibrillator,
trauma and drug boxes out with their lids open.

Cap finished making his call to L.A. and to the emergency court
system and he told his men good news. "Gage, DeSoto, Brice! Do what 
you have to do. That child's now under federal court authority for being 
a kidnap victim. All you need now are doctor's orders.."

"Thanks, Cap." said DeSoto. "Let's hope we won't need to do much."

The firemen hurried to secure two fast rope lines to the Ward and the
front end loader once it had completed clearing away what gravel
it could from the back end of the stolen car.

"Ok,, ok.. ease them back, slowly!" said Cap to Stoker and Marco, who
had joined the gravel vehicle's driver with an HT so they could hear
Cap's instructions the same time Stoker did.

##10-4." they both replied.

"Easy... easy..." said Cap as he watched the tension in the tug ropes
increase, and finally grow taut. Soon, the intact car groaned, shifting
under its deep cocoon of heavy gravel with ear piercing nails on 
chalkboard squeals as raw rock pellets scratched into the chassis
relentlessly.

Everyone covered their ears at the sounds. 

"Ooo, there's goes the paint job." Chet shivered as he opened
a second sheet pack into thirds on top of a backboard in case
they needed spinal care on the child. 

Brice smiled from where he was hailing Rampart. "A problem easily 
remedied. Just picture what the owner of this car would have thought 
if we had decided to flower petal open the roof to saw through the 
back passenger seat and frame, looking for this minor."

"You got a point there." said Kelly, grinning. But then his grin fell away
when he saw Cap raise his glove in a halting gesture. He shot to
his feet quickly. "Here we go.." he said, grabbing an iron bar with 
which to help Lopez jimmy the trunk release.

Brice watched his crewmates as he talked with Dixie McCall. 
"Rampart, we're a minute away from extricating a child of unknown age 
from an automobile trunk that was found buried under five or six feet of 
loose gravel. Please stand by until we free our victim. And yes, we 
have official court permission to render any treatment authorized by you."

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

::Well, if that isn't clairvoyance, I don't know what is.:: thought Dixie
when Brice's last statement anticipated her next question neatly.
##10-4, Squad 51. We're standing by.## replied Dixie when she saw
Joe Early making his way over to the base station at her urgent wave.

The frosty haired nurse readied a note pad and set the record button
on pause. Joe entered the glass alcove, read the basic information
Dixie handed to him, and then they both began to wait restlessly.

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

The trunk cracked open and its springs shot the rear hood up with
alacrity.  A wave of hot, fetid sour air met the firemen's noses in the
darkness. But an odor wasn't about to stop them in the slightest.
Gage threw aside loose objects that the child had kicked around in
his struggles and peered down under Roy's flashlight beam as he
felt for a neck pulse. "He's alive. But it looks like all this rock did
absolutely nothing to protect him from daytime heating. He's got 
all his clothes torn off."

Chet quickly set a resuscitator mask of pure oxygen over the boy's 
face as soon as the two paramedics had him carefully turned onto 
his back, while he still lay in the trunk. "Is he breathing ok on his own?"

"Help him a bit. It's irregular." replied Gage. "Go 20 a minute, and someone
tell Stoker to rig a reel line! We've got to get his high temperature down
with a hose as soon as he's been spine immobilized!  Roy, I'm seeing blunt
force bruising here. His left eye's orbit, right side rib cage and right thigh
so far. And he's got a broken index finger on his left hand."

Kelly tried not to seethe. "He's been beaten up, too?"

"Looks that way." said Roy, holding the heatstroked boy's head
still until Johnny could get a pediatric cervical collar around the child's 
neck. The tall quiet paramedic was ready to kill in his eyes but
his hands remained firmly gentle as they moved the boy onto a long
board and strapped him in tightly with sandbags and belts.

Chet was a tick with the demand valve, sticking to the child's face
and minding his airway aggressively while he delivered light, fast
breaths. "No problems here, Johnny. O2's going in easy."

"Keep them light until I listen to his chest a little better. We've got
to rule out traumatic chest injury." Gage told him.

Mike Stoker was ready with cold water and he stood close by for
the word to begin cooling measures by the time the three firemen
carried the boy over to all the medical gear and Chet's treatment tarp.

"Start with his legs, arms and abdomen only, Stoker. A very light wash.
We don't want to chill him too fast here." said Roy. "If you see him
start to shiver, stop immediately and get him snuggly wrapped up.
Keep an eye out for any active blood flow into your water. We haven't 
checked him out very well yet for other injuries past these bruises and
that hand."

Mike Stoker began his bathing with just an inch wide trickle from 
the end of the red hose's nozzle. "Got it." said the engineer
softly. "Is he resisting Chet's vents yet?" he asked DeSoto.
  
"No." said Roy with a worried frown. "We'll try to change that with
some I.V. epinephrine real soon. Craig.." he said, wiggling fingers
for the biophone receiver.

Brice handed it over and then got busy with Roy's stethoscope on
assessing the flushed red boy's lung sounds.

DeSoto never took his eyes off the boy while he spoke with Dr. 
Early. "Rampart, this is Rescue 5-1."

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

Joe Early flicked the recording machine off pause and said, "Unit
calling in, please repeat."

##Rampart, this is Squad 51.##

"Go ahead on your pediatric suffocation victim, 51. I've been updated."

##Rampart we have a male approximately four to five years of age.
Unconscious and unresponsive, being ventilated on 100% O2. He's
markedly overheated with blunt force trauma in evidence. Looks like
a beating. I'll cover exactly what areas are involved after initial vital signs.
BP is 150/102, pulse is weak and rapid at 134, breaths unassisted, were
at eight and very irregular. Our victim is currently undergoing a cold water
washdown over his extremities and abdomen to allow us to start to get 
a handle on a very high body temperature.##

"What is it, 51?"

##Stand by, Rampart. We've got to work around some spinal precautions to
ascertain that.## 

"10-4. Let me know what you find. Has your victim shown any indication of prior 
seizure activity?"

##None, Rampart. No signs of incontinence or unequal pupillary reaction 
are apparent.##

"Ok, 51. Start him on an I.V. of..........

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

Photo:  Brice and Roy working by the squad with the drugbox.

Photo:  A front end loader digging away at a cliffside.

Photo:  A car's trunk, opened and full of junk.

Photo:  Rescuers carrying a stripped boy away from danger.

Photo:  A child getting ventilated by demand valve by the gang.

Photo:  Dr. Joe Early listening to a transmission wearing glasses.

Photo:  Roy frowning in his helmet at night.

Photo: Marco and Chet in full rescue gear, waiting for orders.


***************************************************************
Date: Fri, 23 Sep 2005 13:25:04 -0700 (PDT) 
From: "Jeff Seltun" <finiterider@yahoo.com>  
Subject:  The Saving Grace of Professionalism.. 


....Lactated Ringer's at TKO and another of 50% dextrose
in water. Protect his airway judiciously, 51. There's a strong possibility
of respiratory alkalosis developing from your active ventilations. They
might bring on secondary hypokalemia. Are there any signs of deep
tendon reflexes?## Joe asked.

Brice checked, running a blunt scissors point up both the boy's bare
feet. He also pinched the skin sharply behind both the boy's knees
while holding them bent and upright. Not one twitch manifested. Craig
shook his head. 

DeSoto shared that news. "Negative, Rampart."

##Ok, go ahead and intubate him with an EOA. Sounds like he's already 
largely in a coma from his exposure. What's his core temperature
reading?##

Johnny took out the thermometer probe from the child's rectum and 
read it under penlight. "41."

"It's at 41°c, doc." Roy told Dr. Early, biting his lower lip.

##Continue his cooling measures aggressively, 51. Halt all irrigation
when his body temperature reaches 39°c and let it drop no lower. 
I want an EKG as soon as possible. If he develops seizure activity,
use a benzodiazepine variant such as Ativan 0.1 mg/kg I.V. 
If hypotension sets in refractory to cooling and initial fluid boluses, initiate 
a Dopamine drip and titrate to maintain a systolic BP greater than 90 mmhg. 
Once you've sent me a strip, continue monitoring vitals and maintain his 
full 02 support. Bring him in as soon as possible.##

Roy confirmed his orders. "10-4, Rampart. Point one mg's Ativan I.V. on 
posturing, a dopamine drip to raise any developing basement BP to 90, 
and an EOA. Stand by for his EKG, lead two. I estimate our ETA at twelve 
minutes."

##Standing by, 51.##

Johnny was way ahead of Joe Early. He already had the still child's
chest dried and patched in and it was only moments before he flicked on
the datascope monitor and linked it into the biophone.

Roy spoke once more into the phone. "Transmitting EKG, Rampart."

##10-4.##

Gage, Brice, DeSoto and Kelly all leaned into the screen to read its tachy
signature. Johnny let out a worried sigh. "Frequent PAC's and look at this. 
Doctor Early called it right on the money. He's very low on electrolytes."

DeSoto picked up the receiver. "Rampart, we are reading marked
flat T waves with prolonged QTs and prominent U waves on a V tach of
140 with PAC's. There is possible evidence of Cor pulmonale manifestation."

##I concur, 51. Bolus in 100 cc's of that Lactated Ringer's. Most likely
the heat's damaged his lung tissue, causing atelectasis and that backup
into his right descending pulmonary artery. That's probably why we are
seeing a poor breathing effort and the Cor pulmonale. It is paramount, 51, if 
he crashes, that you avoid using sodium bicarbonate on any defibrillation.
He's low enough on potassium or magnesium as it is. 
Use Dobutamine 10 mcg/kg/min IV infusion for circulatory support with 
your first stacking dose of epinephrine should any be needed.##

Roy re-outlined the doctor's treatment and plan if the boy 
suffered a cardiac arrest. Then he added, "Rampart, we've examined
all exposed surface areas on our victim. He's got bruising of the left 
orbit of his eye, right lateral ribcage, and on the skin over his right thigh 
with no evidence of obvious fractures except for a midshaft bone break 
on his left index finger. Also, we've found that he's slightly guarding the 
lower left hand quadrant of his abdomen."

##Might be splenic involvement. I'll have a surgeon standing by.##

"10-4, Rampart." Roy practically threw down the biophone into its case
in his eagerness to get the boy intubated and moving out.

Gage re-read the thermometer again, taking it from in between the boy's 
frogged legs where he lay in his moistened shock sheets and he held up 
his hand. "Ok, Stoker, that's good." he said, and he motioned for the 
engineer to take away the cold water stream.

Roy took a small ambu bag from Chet's hand and fastened it to the
end of the boy's esophageal airway once he was through inserting it.
He gave it a few short squeezes while Craig checked the tube's placement.
"Ok, Chet. Take this over again." he said in a hoarse whisper.

Brice gave a curt nod. "It's positioned correctly, DeSoto. ...Ready?" he asked 
Gage and the others who were bundling up the boy's sheets, I.V. tubing and
EKG monitor wires away from the pooled water running around his body.

He got all nods around the circle of quiet firefighters.

The heatstroked young boy's spine board was lifted and laid straight onto a 
half height raised ambulance gurney, and soon, they started 
on their way to the hospital.  Marco quickly followed behind them in the 
rescue squad, adding his red lights and siren to the ambulance's. 


The foreman sighed as Cap stepped away from the Cadillac ambulance doors
that he had just double slapped. "I hope he makes it, mister. Cause if he doesn't, 
then Marty died for nothing and my losing my job over him will just be 
another tragedy this company'll bear quietly in the private sector..."

Hank just stared at him, and displayed absolutely no sympathy.
"Your poor man didn't have to die at all today! Haven't you gotten that fact in 
through that thick hard hat of yours yet?! This whole rescuing situation was
all ....completely... and utterly.....preventable!"

"I didn't put that car into the gravel pile! That stupid city gang did!" said
the foreman, defensive and trembling. "Why are you all looking at me like 
I was the one who kicked that kid around?"

Scotty, rendered angrily mute, turned his back as he began talking to the 
police officer newly arrived on scene.

Cap just jerked his head for the other firemen to pick up all the medical 
waste wrappers, labels and needle covers without saying another word. 

He headed off to give out a station's availability ETA to L.A. over the engine 
cab's chatter filled radio and soon, they were free of the sad gravel works
company, ...forever.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Photo:  Roy on a biophone, surrounded by rock.

Photo:  Firemen fighting to save a nonbreather with a construction worker.

Photo: Roy bagging a victim in a cadillac ambulance.

Photo: Cap grimacing in barely caged rage.

Photo:  A cadillac ambulance driving away.

Photo: Gage and DeSoto fighting to maintain an EOA in ambulance.

****************************************************************************
From :  crash200225 <crash200225@yahoo.com> 
Sent :  Saturday, September 24, 2005 4:35 AM 
Subject :  [EmergencyTheaterLive] Waiting 
 

Marco backed the squad in next to the ambulance just as the boy was 
being unloaded.  The intense look on both of the paramedics' faces 
spoke volumes.  The child's condition must have deteriorated during 
transport.  As he followed the gurney through the emergency room 
outer doors, Marco heard the sound of distant thunder.  He turned 
back to the squad and rolled up the windows.  There was no way of 
knowing how long they would be there.

Not seeing Roy or Johnny in the hallway, Marco found a seat in the 
nearly empty waiting room.  Having left his helmet in the squad, he 
ran his hands through his hair, then over his face.  

The rescue had effected him more than the others knew.  His close 
friend had died in an 'industrial accident' several months earlier.  
Though the circumstances were vastly different, the cause was the same.  
Incomplete training and stupidity on the part of the supervisor.  
He hadn't told his crewmates about it, not that they wouldn't 
understand.  He knew his friends would try to console him, but he 
didn't want that.  The rage he still felt drown out the sorrow that 
would eventually surface.  He just wasn't ready to face it, not yet. 
When he was, he knew they would all be there for him.

Closing his eyes, an image of the child came to Marco and his barely 
controlled anger threatened to overwhelm him.  He thought about who 
could do something so horrible to a little child, just a baby 
really.  He took a deep breath and let his thoughts drift back to his 
friend.  

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Marco," Roy said for the third time, "Are you all right?"

He had become lost in his memories and had not heard Roy calling his 
name.  "Yes, just tired.  How is the boy?"

"Dr. Early stabilized him.  He's on the way to surgery now.  Johnny is 
getting supplies.  He won't be much longer."  Roy knew they were all 
shaken by the rescue, but now was not the time to dwell on it.  It 
was a kind of unwritten rule not to mention the bad runs for awhile 
afterwards.  They would talk about it at some point, but not now. 

Five minutes later, the three men were on the way back to the 
station.  Johnny seemed to fall asleep before they had left the 
ambulance bay, head against the window.  Marco was in the center seat 
and asked Roy, "You sure he's not sick or something?  He's 
usually 'Mr. Can't-Sit-Still'".

"He was okay in the ambulance and at Rampart.  Like he said, he's 
bushed.  Nothing some sleep won't fix."  Roy answered with more 
confidence than he felt.  He knew how his partner could be sometimes.

"What about Brice?  He went to check on Johnny and fell asleep 
himself.  Maybe there is something going around."  Marco reminded him.

Roy thought about it for a few moments before saying, "I guess it 
wouldn't hurt to check them both out when we get back."

Neither man saw the smirk on Johnny's face.  He hadn't quite gone to 
sleep, but before he knew it, Marco was shaking him.  They had 
returned to the station and Roy had the passenger door open.  He was 
taking Johnny's pulse.

"Aw, Roy, Marco, leave me 'lone. Tired is all.  Lemme sleep."  he 
grumbled.

Roy shook his head and sighed.  "We just thought you might want to 
sleep in your bunk instead of the squad."

"Huh?"  Johnny looked around before stumbling out of the squad and 
straight to the sleeping quarters. He didn't bother to strip down to 
his t-shirt and boxers.  He dove onto his bunk and, for the second 
time that night, didn't remember his head hitting the pillow.     

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

Photos:  None.

**************************************************************************
From :  Roxy Dee <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Saturday, September 24, 2005 8:57 PM 
Subject :  The Haunted Chat~~ 


Johnny heard a motion in the darkness in the bunk room
where he lay. ::That's Cap. Is he restless!  And Marco's none
too relaxed either.:: Gage thought as he blinked sleepers
away.  His roving eyes studied the ceiling and flicked to
the window, which was still glowing street light blue.
::Dawn's nowhere near yet.:: 

The dark haired paramedic rolled over to eye his partner, Roy,
snoring lightly nearby on the next bunk over. Immediately, his 
overlarge eyes spied an HT on standby lying on the table 
between them ::Got you! :: Johnny grinned quietly. 
::You finally went for the tired act Brice and I crafted hook line
and sinker if you have a radio in here with ya.::  

Trying not to laugh aloud, he glanced over to Brice's bulk on
the bed kitty corner from him next to Chet. Craig was quiet,
and his glasses were off. ::He must have continued the joke
after I "staggered" in here if Roy was concerned enough 
to keep close communication cover in the bunk room after
checking up on me. Wish I had been awake when he
finally came in for me. Oh, well. Maybe Chet was
there watching him. I can get the play by play about what
happened during breakfast when it's light out.::

Contented with the progress of his mother hen fostering joke,
Gage flipped back over onto his back and closed his eyes
in a sigh and soon returned to a much needed slumber.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ten minutes later, Captain Stanley flipped back his sheets, 
pulled on his suspendered pants, and shuffled into the bathroom
on his boots. Hank was shocked to find that his face was covered 
in a sheen of fine sweat in the mirror. Slowly, he realized that his 
heart was still pounding in his chest. ::Why am I still mad? We're
well done with it!:: he thought about the dead man at the gravel 
works. The nightmare from which he had just awakened was still 
playing shadows of strong emotion behind his eyes.

A commotion made him quickly turn on a sink flow in a pretend
face wash to hide his damp skin. 

It was Marco, just as unsleepy and concealing the fact that he
was actually disturbed. "Hey, Cap. Can't sleep?" Lopez asked him
as he startled at finding him up.

"Just thirsty I guess." Cap sighed, hiding the reason why his
sleep had been broken. "I'm headed into the kitchen for some warm
milk. Uh,... want me to fix ya some? Stoker told me we gotta finish 
up that gallon before it goes bad on us tomorrow afternoon."

Instead of shaking his head, Marco nodded yes. "I think I need all
the comfort I can get after tonight's run." the hispanic firefighter finally
admitted.  

"Oh?"  Cap startled.
He rubbed a tightness in his chest that was coming oddly 
with his boosted heartrate in a pretend scratch through his t-shirt. 
"Wanna talk about it?"

Marco eyed him with a haunted look and his eyes flickered over
the hand Cap was using to grip his shirt's front in an attempt
to silence the hammering under his ribs. That grip, matched his
own, on his own shirt, that was trying to do the same thing. "Yeah.." 
he said softly, meeting his eyes. "I ..think I need to, Cap... And... 
I think you need to, too."

Hank stopped drying his face in a towel with his free hand 
and ended his charade of false calm. In a rush, whispering 
confidentially, Cap let loose.  "Oh, it was awful, wasn't it? 
I-I- I really think that I wanted to kill that foreman, Marco. With my 
bare hands.  And I've never lost my cool on a rescue like that before. 
Not ever. Not even half mentally! So why did I feel something like
that tonight? I still feel plenty angry about it now. And it's two 
hours later!"

Marco surprised him by taking Hank's sudden deep admission in stride.
Lopez waved it away with a dismissive hand and a tiny smile.
He touched Cap's arm, and started leading him to the more private
space offered by the still warm kitchen and rec room. "Believe me, 
I understand completely, Cap. I just lost a good friend a few weeks 
ago due to circumstances alot like those that killed our park gravel 
worker. I've been feeling a little trapped myself lately over him."

Captain Stanley's eyes radiated instant sympathy and caring. "I'm
so sorry, pal. Abou-- about him." he said as they both padded silently past
the quiescent engine and squad in the bay and then through the kitchen's
swing door.

"It's ok. I....think I'll get over it. Only I haven't figured out how yet."
Marco said, looking shell shocked and vaguely numb as they both
moved over towards the refrigerator and the stove after squinting
painfully when the autolights came on.

"Think we should call a CISM counselor for a late night session?" Hank
asked frankly, opening up uncharacteristically to his troubled coworker.
"I know it's been a while since we as a shift, have called for one."

"Nah, having a shrink come to the station would only wake the others. 
And embarrass us further after they nose around a little 
for the reason why. Maybe we could...just have it out just between 
the two of us, and see if that'll do any good before we try anything 
drastic enough like calling for one of them." he said, mincing a salt 
shaker around pointlessly on the eating table.

Captain Stanley blinked, his back still to Marco, as he got
out two empty glasses for their drinks. Hank coughed, trying to 
relieve the tightness he still felt in his jaw. The nausea which always
came with any stress he dealt with began to rise and it finally made 
him speak as he busied himself with the crumpled milk carton marked 
"Use Now." and a sauce pan over a low gas flame on the stove. So he
finally gushed, wide open. 

Cap turned around, met Marco eye to eye, and opened his mouth. 
"Oh, man. I was completely stunned over feeling the way I did in 
front of that foreman. Blind rage, rising grief. A whole gauntlet of 
emotions. I- I didn't actually know what to do with myself after we 
found out that our first victim had been killed because of sheer lame 
brained stupidity and total inaction. I've seen people die for
dumb reasons in the past as a captain, but nothing like--" he choked 
off, slamming down a lump that threatened to make his eyes water.

"This was simply the last straw for you, Cap, and very nearly mine."
Lopez said very quietly. Tears flowed unabashed down his face
as he drank the heated milk Hank finally handed out to him. 
"And we've got to figure how get it all out somehow, before it 
makes us both too hobbled to work well enough to save those
we can still do something about."

Cap found he couldn't release his grief. Not yet. Not even 
a half an hour later when Marco and he finally returned back to 
the sanctity of their beds and the warm roughness of their beige
woolen blankets.

Trying to ignore the weight of stress still bearing down heavily 
on his chest, Cap let go of himself into an unrestful sleep.

In the blackness across the room, Craig Brice watched them both,
thoughtfully analytical and soon, privately worried.

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

Photo:  Johnny, lying in bed in the dark.

Photo:  Cap and Marco, looking unhappy on a rescue scene.

Photo:  Cap closeup, looking stressed.

Photo: Marco leaning against the kitchen sink, thoughtful.

Photo: Cap trying to rest in bed.

Photo: Craig Brice, looking down.

****************************************************************************
From: "Monster Moofie" <monstermoof4me@comcast.net> 
Date: Sat Sep 24, 2005  7:01 pm 
Subject: Monday morning breakfast 


Meanwhile, back at Rampart the night shift had just
ended. Dixie had called Kel Sunday night and made arrangements
for him to come meet her and Joe for breakfast. Dix hurried and
changed out of her uniform and met Joe at the front desk.

Waving to Mike Morton, Joe and Dix headed out and drove to the
diner.

Having enjoyed a peaceful night, Kel waved to them with a smile. He
held up the pot of coffee as they approached. "I secured sustenance
for you two!" he said with a grin. "How did the night shift go?"

Joe sighed happily as he grabbed the cup of coffee Kel poured
him. "It was fairly uneventful for once. 51's brought in a kid
who had been found trapped in a gravel quarry. He was in pretty
rough shape when they brought him in but it looks like he will be
fine."

"I had a few minutes to talk with Johnny Gage while he was gathering
supplies following the rescue. Would you believe they have added
Craig Brice to 51's A shift?" Dixie queried Kel.

"You're kidding me, Dix!" Kel said in disbelief.

"Nope, she sure isn't, Kel." Joe responded.

Dixie hurried to explain further, "The really funny thing is that
apparently the rest of the guys, including Roy, tried to pull a joke
on Johnny and Craig. Johnny told me he was feeling the change of
season and just in a sleepy mood so he went to bed early last night
instead of staying up for movies and popcorn. The rest of the guys
sent Brice in after midnight to check on Johnny. Once he realized
what was going on, Johnny convinced Brice to set up a joke on the
guys by crawling in Chet's bed and joining Johnny in slumber.
Unfortunately, they got the call out before it worked."

Kel laughed hearing the firehouse antics. "Johnny and Brice joining
together to pull a joke?! That is certainly funny! It was hard
enough when we saw Brice working with DeSoto when Johnny was out
because of the hit and run. I have a hard time imagining Brice and
Gage working together, let alone planning something together! Those
two are like a cat and its prey."

Still laughing at the idea of this unlikely pair, the three friends
finished their breakfast. After paying their bill they headed out
to their cars. About to go their separate ways, they noticed the
white land rover that pulled into the parking lot. It parked and
they saw Johnny get out. Johnny approached them with a grin.

"Hey Docs, Dix! You are just who we wanted to see." Johnny said.

"We?" Joe asked Johnny. "I don't see anyone with you."

Johnny grinned and pointed. Unnoticed, Craig Brice had come in from
the other direction.

"Dr. Brackett, Dr. Early, Miss McCall." Craig greeted them.

The Rampart staff, surprised, greeted him.

"You are right, John. They would be the perfect people to help us
pull off this joke. I know all three of you are planning on
attending the upcoming fireman's fall harvest." Craig said referring
to the upcoming fund raiser, "A Safe Alternative For Kids", 
planned for October 31st.

Shocked, the trio could only reply.

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

Photos:  None.

***************************************************
From: "patti *mimic* " <pattik1@hotmail.com> 
Date: Sun Sep 25, 2005  6:09 pm 
Subject: The Final Baiting.. 
 

Inwardly, Dixie tried not to gawk when she heard Craig Brice
of all people, refer to Johnny Gage by his first name. But
outwardly, she smiled, really big. "Johnny, just what the heck
are you and Craig up to now?" she asked first, being the
most eager to get social fast enough to satisfy a deepening,
healthy curiosity.

Joe Early blinked, and nudged Dixie, leaning into
her ear so she would be the only one who heard him. 
He disguised his comment as a hug and a cheek smooch 
for her paying his part of the diner bill. "I can't believe you 
mentioned the two of them inside the same sentence." he 
murmured.

Dixie elbowed him subtly back to hush up.

Oblivious, Gage went on eagerly. "Oh, nothing much. We're
just gonna finish what we both started two years ago."

Brackett, fairly familiar with most of the firehouse pranks
that usually occurred associated by station number, took
a crack at it. "Would this have anything to do with the
publicity grudge you pretended to have whenever Brice
was mentioned in the newspapers?"

Dixie and Joe Early had to scrape their jaws off
of the pavement when they heard that comment escape Kel's
lips.

Craig Brice pushed his glasses up onto his nose. "It sure
does, doctor.." looking pleased but a little self conscious
at the same time. He seemed to Dixie a little like Roy just
then.

"Yeah.." bubbled Johnny. "You see,... the guys think that I
still hate him on a professional level. I know that because 
Cap asked me that very question indirectly on my last 
departmental review, about whether or not I still harbored some 
ill will and jealousy towards Brice, during my formal/informal 
psych test."

"The way Mr. Gage behaved concerning me, was pure bunk." Brice 
smirked in a tiny grin. "Uh, no pun intended, Johnny."

"None taken.." Johnny rocked back on his heels in a mutual
self congratulatory stance.

The Rampart three just stared in incomprehension at the firehouse
two.

Johnny explained. "We're trying to make the others think that we're
both laid up in a minor fashion somehow physically and we've 
been using the bunkroom as the setting, doc, to bait the guys." Gage 
told Brackett, who was starting to grin as he learned of just the
smallest twist of shamming currently developing at 51's. 

Kel's eyes twinkled, as Joe and Dixie finally understood the ramifications.

Joe's finger began pointing. "Oh, so I see. You acted irritated about anything
to do with Brice here two years ago, just to set up a larger bait of a broken 
wing act with both of you, tricking them, now." Early guessed.

"You're on the right track, doc. Only it doesn't stop there." Johnny 
crowed. "We need to take things up to a new level now that the guys
are teetering off balance. We need to cap it all with the final blow. And 
that's why we stopped to visit when we saw the three of ya. To get ya to 
deliver the coup de grace on this third phase of ours. The broken wing bunk 
acting is just to throw the rest of the gang off of our true intentions.
We're starting to be the lures to lead the hounds off the fox trail."

Dixie started to frown. "Oh, boy. Do I even want to learn what you two
are cooking up now?"

  "Yes."
"Yes." chorused Joe and Kel at the same time.

The two doctors looked at each other and started chuckling.

"All right, so here's what we want you to do. But it's important to
spring this during the parade REHEARSAL for that fund raiser of 
yours Dixie... That event, uh,..".A Safer..." Gage began.

"...Alternative For Kids"..that I planned on the 31st." Dixie continued.
"All right, I'll bite. What do you want us to do? And I'll go through with this
as long as nobody gets hurt or embarrassed too badly."

"Oh, they won't, Miss McCall." said Craig. "Their uniforms won't even get
wet."

Gage and Brice fell into a paroxysm of laughter at the famous reference 
to the Phantom water can legacy that had ensued between Chet Kelly
and Johnny the year before and they nearly fell over themselves trying
to contain their giggling.

"Here. You're gonna need this. Follow the instructions to the letter on
the very day, ok?" Gage said when they had regained their ability
to breathe.

Kel eagerly snatched the paper that Craig held out to the three
of them at Johnny's words.

Dixie's eyes got real big and very fearful. "I don't want to read it.."

"That's ok, Joe and I will." Brackett shrugged. " You can decide if you
want in after your gotta-know nose festers for a while. Come on, Joe. Let's
read this and go over it before the three of us have to go back for our 
overtime at the hospital." and the two of them headed back to the side of 
the parking lot where their two cars waited. 

Dixie's mouth flopped open and her hands took positions on either side of
her hips. But just as quickly, her eyes lit up. "Is it a good one?"

"The best..." Gage winked at her. But it was genuine, without the slightest
hint of deception. 

And that, finally convinced her.
"Ok,.. I'm gonna go catch up to Joe and Kel. But what, uh,  what ARE 
you guys doing here this time of the morning? Besides, getting us involved
in your latest practical joke war. I thought you both had a 48/96 going on."

Brice pushed his glasses up onto his face a little higher. "We are
working a two days on/four days off rotation. Uh, hospital
staff, especially upper level medical staff, might be able to afford the
prices in there...." he said, pointing to the posh diner Kel, Dixie and Joe
had just breakfasted inside of. "...but us poor firemen, are after the true
cuisine.." he winked amicably.  His other hand pointed to the far end of
the lot. At Davey's Diner, the tiny run down one, located on the corner.

Dixie made a face. "You're going to eat chili dogs? Now?"

"We were busy last night.." Johnny shrugged. "We need comfort food.
And Brice tells me that Marco and Cap probably need it more than the rest
of us."

Nurse McCall's expression softened in sorrow. "Bad call yesterday?"
she asked remembering the child that Joe Early had spoken of.

"Not about him." Gage said, studying the ground, suddenly serious. "It was
about a man we couldn't help at the same scene. Craig says the loss's
taking physical lumps out of Marco and Captain Stanley in a ...how exactly
did you put it?...in a detrimental way."

"Yes, that is the description I utilized." Craig agreed.

"...so we're doing the friends first thing by offering food and being
there without prying, until they decide to dump onto us what they're
feeling." Johnny smiled, wanly uncertain.

Dixie rocked forward on her nursing shoes and kissed him full on
the cheek. "That's so .." her eyes watered. "...sweet, you guys. 
Let me know how they're doing, ok?"

"We will.." Brice promised.

A brash car honk caught all of their attentions. Dixie whirled.
"Oh! Kel's leaving. I've got to go. We came together..."

"So are you?" Johnny pressed, with a cat eating grin.

Dixie smacked him with her purse as she pulled out her head scarf.
"If you must know..." she started to grin. But then her head didn't
move in an up or down nod, or with a shake in the negative, about a 
romantic relationship, in the slightest.

She simply, walked off, with quiet dignity, tying the scarf around her
elegant head.

Gage blustered. "Oh, come on, Dixie. That's not fair..!" he hollered after
her. "We tell ya the nitty gritty about all our relationships... Just look
at what you found out about Craig and me today with this joking thing!"

But the nurse only slid into Brackett's convertible and waved jauntily
as the three of them departed in their two cars.

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

Photos:  None.

****************************************************************
From :  Cory Anda <andacory@hotmail.com> 
Sent :  Tuesday, September 27, 2005 4:55 AM 
Subject :  Pomp and Circumstance.. 


Johnny Gage was still smiling when he and Craig Brice
climbed back into his land rover for their trip back to
the station. "Don't spill those, Craig, or we'll have
spent our four dollars for nothing."

"I can honestly say that I've never wasted anything 
meant for a humanitarian cause." Craig sniffed ruefully, 
sitting ramrod straight in his seat with the cardboard 
carton holding the seven chili dogs in his lap.

"I believe you. But usually things that ya want really bad
to happen, have a tendency to blow up into your face, Craig.
And I'm one of the most well known people around, department
wide, to suffer frequently from that effect. Let's not tempt fate, 
all right?"Johnny wasn't convinced that his newly retuned old
shocks would be merciful or not so he reached over and 
belted Brice in so the paramedic didn't have to let go of any 
of the food he was cradling. "Let me fasten this for ya. Hold still. 
Ok, got it."

"Are you talking about the jinx gene?" Craig asked seriously.

"Jinx g--? Oh, you mean my klutz gene, the one that usually fires
up and causes me to get sick or hurt all the time whether I want
it to, or not?" Johnny said, starting up his ignition.

"You know that is a complete fallacy." Brice said no nonsense.
"Anyone can make bad things happen for themselves just by
thinking about it too much..." he said checking out the intersection
ahead of them. "Road's clear my side. Go ahead and blow through
this yellow light, our food's already dropped by about ten degrees 
Fahrenheit." he declared.

Johnny stepped on the gas instantly, causing both of them to
flatten against the back window of the rover.

Brice blinked, glancing over at his latest, shared, paramedic partner.
"That exact mind set used to trip me up all the time until I decided that the 
effect wasn't going to rule me anymore." he said. "For the first two years
I was with the fire department, I was... exactly... like you for wracking up
a lot of injured days."

"Really?" Gage gaped. He found that he had a hard time concentrating
on driving. "Well, h- how did you manage to get over it? I've been wracking my
brains for about six years trying to figure out how to get sheer bad 
luck to leave me alone for a little while."

"I just let myself think.. 'It won't happen, because I won't allow it.' 
And it never does. Every time."  Brice said with firm conviction.

Gage just slumped in his driver's seat with a defeated sigh. "Easier
said than done. Guess I've never had the will power strong enough
to psych myself outta thinking anything. I always seem ta get caught
up in an idea and then I get completely lost, obsessing about it."

"Yeah, I noticed.." said Brice candidly. "I think that's part of the reason
why we get along so well."

Gage didn't know what to think about that particular 
Brice comment from the peanut gallery. But then he offered
a nut of his own. "Nah, I think we get along so well because 
I never know what's gonna pop outta your mouth until you say it, Craig.
....So,.. are we gonna eat without nosing into Cap and Marco's emotional 
business to give them some space to think about it some more?"

"Yes, I think that would be the least problematic for now."

"I concur." Johnny said deadpan. Then he shook his head. "Geesh,
I'm even beginning to sound like you, ...partner." he grinned in a tease.

"That's not a bad thing, John. The more we think alike, the better
we'll function together as a paramedic team." admitted Craig.
"I see similarities between you and DeSoto all the time."

"You do?"

Brice nodded.

"In what w--? Oh, never mind. Ok, so it's breakfast,.. How about we 
get to Rampart for all the daytime supplies we need afterwards?" 
Johnny smirked, asking the question.

"Sounds like a good plan of action. That'll buy approximately....
one hour fifteen minutes of time where you won't suffer any bad luck."
Brice announced.

"Huh?"

Craig reiterated. "You chose a direction to go without wavering, Gage.
Your klutz gene will be so busy being efficient for once, that it won't have
time to get you into trouble for at least that long."

"Oh." Johnny sighed, not getting the full benefit of free counseling. "Uhhh, 
if you say so.." he said with incomprehension.

Craig Brice returned to smiling out the window mildly, and enjoying 
the aromas coming from the steaming cheese chili dogs in his lap.

Gage completed the drive back to the station, in thoughtful silence.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The hospital was busy for nine a.m.

Joe Early was making his rounds in Neurology, gathering the latest
test results for all of his non-emergency ward patients on the fifth floor.

Hounding the nurses station, was a whole plethora of visitors, orderlies,
student nurses and x-ray techs all wanting a piece of the floor's head nurse
working there.

Joe felt more than a little sympathy for Carol Evans, Dixie's official second,
as he reached around the stretched phone cord between her and
the countertop for his pile of lab results. "Sorry, Carol. I'll ...be right over
here, reading these. I promise I'll put them back in exactly the same order
so I won't mess up your filing..."

Carol barely afforded the silver haired doctor a glance. She was
concentrating very hard on the person speaking to her on the phone
just then. "I know you just had your stomach surgery Monday.. But Mr.
Stephan, you just can't eat anything your family brought to you. It'll only
cause serious complications..." she told the man in room 602. 

Carol pulled the phone away from her ear when the strong greek 
accented man realized that a mere woman was trying to tell him what 
to do.

Joe held out his hand, to spare her a tirade, asking for the phone. He said
five words. "No, because I ordered NPO." and he hung up the phone.
He nodded curtly to Ned, the orderly. "Go confiscate the take-out from
room 602. And make sure you check all the women's handbags for
handouts, too."

"Yes, doctor." replied the orderly.

Carol finally found a brief pause in her work load as she finished giving
directions for one visitor, fielded another call from the lab, and handed
Dr. Morton the chart he couldn't find in the piles sitting on her countertop.
"Oh, thanks, Dr. Early. He's been trying to speed up his GI tract and recovery
all morning. Only he's too dull witted to understand how dangerous it is to
eat before regaining peristalsis and bowel movements."

"I can understand his apparent haste. I just saw the medical bill his
insurance company's getting." Joe chuckled.

"Isn't that crazy, doctor?..." Carol said in a side whisper. "What in
the world are medical insurance companies thinking nowadays?"

"Dollar signs.." Joe sighed ruefully, drawing double Nixon fingers in 
the air.

"Almost makes you wanna work for free just to spare the patients grief,
doesn't it?" she whispered.

"Well, almost.." Joe laughed.

A commotion from down the hall made both of them lift their heads in
surprise. Someone screamed.  And then, shocking sounds of strange 
sharp bangs that they couldn't immediately identify, ricchocheted 
around them.

Dr. Morton and Dr. Early immediately went running down the south wing
towards the sound of the noises. Carol snatched up the red phone
from the wall and called for hospital security stat to fifth floor Neurology.

Then, she too, went running down the hall with most of the orderlies not
tied up with other patients.

She rounded a corner, skidding on her shoes, and saw Joe Early
crumpled on the floor, inside room 602, lying on his back beneath
a crash cart, with blood on his head. 

Carol Evans let out a scream of her own. "Dr. Early!" 

But then the room's swinging door shut out the sight of him and 
the angry woman standing over him with a bedpan.

Just as rapidly, Mr. Stephan, complete with a walker, smashed into Carol
with enough force to knock the wind out of her and drive her to the ground. 
He brandished a small handgun in the air, causing instant mayhem.

Then he disappeared into the ensuing, panicking crush of people
that he had caused.
 
Carol coughed, violently, trying to get her breath back. She pointed
to the wall as Dr. Morton tried to help her to her feet. But her awareness
started fleeing from pain. Mike eased her back down onto the floor
by his knees from where he was ducking behind an empty gurney
and he shouted. "I got it.. Lie still if you're hurt." He jerked only high 
enough into the air to pull the fire alarm that would signal an instant 
emergency evacuation for the entire floor.

The hospital operator's voice came overhead a second later. 
##Code Red. Code Red. Fifth floor. South wing. Code Red. Code
Red...##

Morton yelled at an orderly who had managed to scramble behind
the nurses' desk. "Call security and tell them we have an armed man
at large in the hospital shooting up the place! A.S.A.P.!"

Then he turned back to Carol to get her true consciousness state
and he tried to figure out exactly where the orderly was that Joe had 
sent into Stephan's room. 

"N-ned..d?" she mumbled. "Oh...n--"

"He's probably been shot.." Morton guessed 
as he lifted Evan's eyelids one at a time peering at her pupils
to check their reactions while he held her neck carefully still. 
"Shhh, Carol. Don't talk. Save your strength. We gotta wait 
until fast help gets here before we can do anything else."

Carol blacked out before she could tell Mike about Joe Early.

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

The tones went off, large and long in a multiple station run.
##Stations 99, 8, 24, Engine 2, Engine 39, Engine 20, Battalion 1, 
Battalion 14, Battalion 9, with Station 9, and Station 51. Unverified 
fire alarm at Rampart General Hospital. 1000 West Carson Street. 
Cross street 223rd Ave. 1000 West Carson. Cross street, 223rd 
Ave. Security reports an evacuation has begun. No further 
information is available. Time out:  0912. ##

Cap didn't even swallow his last mouthful of chili dog. He spat it out
into the kitchen sink. "Whoo boy! Move it, move it. Brice! Grab 
the triage pack and kits from my office!" he snapped unnecessarily.
"I'll call us out."

Soon, Cap's booming voice filled the apparatus bay. "Station 51, 
10-4. KMG 365.."

The gang pulled the fastest mobilization rollout that they had ever run.

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

Photo:  Hospital hall full of patients.

Photo:  Engine 2 running by.

Photo:  Engine 39 coming at you.

Photo:  A fire alarm wall pull box.

Photo:  Joe Early, thoughtful close.

Photo:   Rampart's driveway in daylight.

Photo:   Squad 51 roaring through a parking lot.

Animation:   A firing handgun.

Photo:   A hospital patient room.

Photo:   Triage kit and vest.

Photo:   Triage kit, rainbow tape and tags.

Photo:    Triage tag.

Photo:  Brice, marking time on his watch, in the squad.

****************************************************
From: Sam Iam <lafddispatcher@yahoo.com> 
Date: Tue Sep 27, 2005  4:51 pm 
Subject: Condition Dr. Black.. 


Dixie McCall's head snapped up at the declaration of a 
possible fire on the fifth floor of her hospital by the operator.

She got over an instant of heart pounding sheer denial but
then got busy right where she was at the main emergency
room desk, to start delegating priorities for the soon to
ensue evacuation of that level.  Dixie made sure a smile
stayed plastered on her face for those few waiting room
and outpatient visitors who glanced up curiously at the
Code Red general announcement. ::Like that code stuff
really fools anyone.:: she scoffed deep inside. ::They know
there's trouble somewhere. We're not fooling anybody.
Someday someone should decide on a new page code for 
emergencies around here. These are archaic.::

She told the operator to flash a condition orange voice
and wall beacon code at all nurses stations displaying
patient call lights, to run things by the book. ::That way, our people 
will take the assigned positions called for by our steady state 
evacuation plans.:: she nodded mentally. She no sooner had 
that completed when she saw sharpish movement out of the 
corner of her eye.

Kel Bracket burst out of the minor surgery treatment room
where he had been washing up. "Dixie.. real or false alarm?!"
he asked the second he was within comfortable earshot. Brackett
kept glancing around offering smiles to non-staff passers by even
as he minced inwardly as the emergency situation progressed
around him. It began subtly, with a greater frequency of stairwell
doors opening and closing along with the elevators'. 

"I haven't heard yet from security or any staff member from
that floor yet." she admitted, glancing self consciously at
the ivory phone still resting quiescent in front of her. ::Odd.
Someone should have at least told us down here if
anyone was smelling smoke or seeing it out the patient
room windows.:: she thought.

"All right. Let's assume worst case scenario. Dixie, get
all the free nurses and orderlies stationed at all the stairwells
until the fire department gets here to confirm that we're actually
on fire. I want extra gurneys and wheelchairs surrounding the
elevators to hold those evacuating those wings so we can move
them outta here."

"Already done, Kel." McCall said. "A minute ago. I called
a condition orange just now."

"How many stations are coming for this?"

Dixie threw her head up at the always on fire and police
scanner parked on a remote relay EKG monitor. "Five stations,
and three engine companies along with three of their battalion
chiefs, probably to organize things on each flank of the building."

"Quite a response for a possible false alarm." Kel frowned half,
ruefully and half amused. 

"It was told differently this time. The fire dispatcher added that 
an evacuation was underway on the all call." Dixie blinked.

"Has Security called yet?" Kel wanted to know.

"No, strangely enough. I wonder what the trouble is.." 

"I'm going up there. Hold the fort?"

"Kel...." McCall began, beginning to feel uneasy for some reason.

"Dix, I'm going to use the stairs, don't worry. Besides, Joe
and Mike are up there and they might be able to tell me what's
going on a little bit faster than security would if they're being
beleaguered by the public like they always are at every
possible fire alarm."

"Keep in touch with me." Dixie said reluctantly, pointing to
the red phone hanging on the wall by the glass alcoved base
station.

"Don't I always?" he grinned, as he disappeared up the nearest
stairway for the fifth floor.

Then Dixie moved to the waiting room to calm down the visitors 
who had begun noticing the growing stream of gowned patients 
and orderly pushed gurneys leaving the freight elevator doors.

A scream from one of them attracted her attention. Her head whirled
and she spotted a blood covered orderly falling out of a side stairwell.
She ran forward after yelling at a nursing student to go get a doctor
or resident.

It was Ned, the orderly.  He was trying to staunch a rapid flow of
blood from his lower abdomen with his arms and elbows where
he had fallen. Dixie immediately pushed him over, grabbed a blanket
off a nearby unused gurney and began applying pressure over the
wound using the floor and her hands as leverage. "Ned... Ned.. It's
Dixie. What happened to you?"

"A....cr-crazy man. He shot me!" Ned gasped quietly, mindful of
the public ear ironically even though he was in full gory view. 
They were already gaping and horrified. 

Consciousness was creeping away from him. 

"Easy, Ned. Lie still. Let me control your bleeding..." 
Dixie snapped at a nearby security guard, who was glued 
to his shoulder radio. "Get over here and take over!" she 
told him. "Do what I'm doing. I have to notify the police about 
what's happening now.." 

Another fast thinking nursing student found a trauma pack and tore it open
for McCall and showed the security guard how to use it, freeing
up Dixie to do her new automatic designation as head triage for the ER.
That had fallen onto her shoulders the moment Ned had tumbled into
her arms. 


Running for her desk, Dixie broke out a small triage case filled with
priority tags and colored strips of ribbon. ::Now's the test of this 
new system of the fire department's.:: she thought.  She handed
out a red plastic arm strip and triage tag to the student nurse 
who had stopped to help, from the wired spooled bundle in the
bright orange box.

"Red tag him! Write down Ned's name, vitals and time, and where his
wounds are located.." Dixie told the student. "Then get some muscle 
to help get him onto a gurney until a doctor gets here." she ordered. 
"When he does, take them all into Treatment Three. Stat! When you give
him full flow oxygen, use a portable tank in case we have to evac 
down here as well. And good job on getting out those trauma
dressings so fast. He'll live following some surgery."

"Miss McCall." the nervous nursing student said, ducking her head
with an almost non-existent smile as she rushed to carry out her orders.

Dixie rubbed the loose hair out of her eyes with an elbow while she
wiped the blood off of her hands on a clean surgical drape from the 
neatly folded stack on a gurney near her desk that had been waiting 
to get put away by supply. Then she voiced to all the public. "Leave or 
stay. Your choice. Think about your safety first! If you need immediate 
medical attention, there are fire paramedics outside to aid you!" 

Almost everyone, left the hospital, in a hurry.

Soon, the ivory phone in front of her rang.

Dixie snatched it up. "Dixie McCall. Emergency." she said quickly.

##Dixie! It's Morton! Four staff members and I are pinned behind the 
fifth floor nurse's desk, under cover, from a man and a woman, both
with handguns. The male assailant's a patient of all things from room 
602 ! Tell the FD that there is no fire at all. Get some police support 
for us A.S.A.P.!! It's not safe! Let absolutely no one come up here. 
I've been sending those patients and visitors that I can still reach, 
down only! So far, we've heard no more shots fired past the four
or five initial ones a few minutes ago. ##

"Any more injured?" Dixie asked outwardly calm as she watched
orderlies and a doctor, who had come from the direction of the 
cafeteria, as they knelt beside Ned to begin his trauma care. 
"A shot orderly just collapsed in the waiting room. It's Ned."

##Just Carol. She was shoved against a wall by the jerk who
started this whole mess!##

Dixie's heart leaped into her chest. "How is she?" the nurse asked 
before she could stop herself.

##Stable! A moderate concussion only. She's already starting to
wake up for me. Now go!  Pass the word along!##

"Mike, Kel's on his way up there! He doesn't know what's going on
yet!"

##I'll try to intercept him.## and the phone clicked off line in her ear.

Dixie picked up the red phone on the wall to the hospital operator,
who had halted all non emergency pages in deference to the conditions
red and orange in effect. "ER front desk. Notify the police of two armed
suspects running rampant, last seen, on the fifth floor. Then notify the fire 
department of the same thing. Be sure to tell them that there's no active fire...." 
Dixie held her breath. "That's right. Now all page a situation Dr. Black on 
all overheads." McCall didn't even pause at the gasp from the operator 
who recognized the 'weapons wounding staff' emergency code. She hung 
up immediately.

Dixie left her desk when the freight and regular elevator doors all started 
opening in earnest, disgorging its passengers who had fled the fifth floor.

The operator's falsely steady voice started paging the unreal Dr. Black.

She sighed gratefully when security guards appeared and started manning
the stairwell doors and elevator lobby for any possible gunshot danger.

She held up two fingers at them so they knew the number of suspects
and so they'd check through the window doors and as elevator doors opened 
for their dangerous presence before letting any evacuating people leave 
through them. It went unspoken that if the gunpeople were spotted, to bar
their way into Emergency by any means possible. ::They aren't police,
and aren't supposed to risk themselves for us, but I know they will, 
regardless of their own safety.:: Dixie thought quietly as she tried not to 
worry herself and those visitors and outpatients milling up to her asking 
questions.

The evacuation continued. 

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

Captain Stanley heard an update from his station's battalion chief over
the line. ##Battalion One to all stations District One 
responding to Rampart Hospital's incident. There is no fire. 
Repeat: There is no smoke. However, the fifth floor is the scene of an 
ongoing seige and shooting. Deploy on standby and assist the 
evacuation process, using appropriate precautions. ##

Johnny, Roy and Craig Brice immediately ducked their heads and moved
around the side of their squad facing away from the hospital. They saw
their engine crew, do the same thing. 

Captain Stanley motioned. "Move in. Check it out." he told them. "Engine
crew, assist evacuees only. Gage, DeSoto, Brice.. go in and see if they
need paramedic assistance. Report what you find immediately as you
learn it, over HT and keep your heads down!"

The three station 51 paramedics nodded.
They used the trees and the skyway's underside and the side of the building 
as heavy cover away from the storey windows to reach the ambulance 
loading doors of Emergency, carrying only their triage tags, vests and 
radios in with them.


In the distance, they heard a new batch of sirens growing from the east, 
from an ample police unit response to the hospital.

And then they were in the building.

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

Photos: None.

****************************************************
From: Katherine Bird <kathbird01@yahoo.co.uk> 
Date: Thu Sep 29, 2005  9:33 pm 
Subject: The Black, the White... and a whole lotta Red... 



"Dixie!"  Gage called out as soon as Roy and he had spotted her
through the frightened hospital visitors and the hurrying medical
staff directing them. They headed for her.

Brice, decided on a more practical approach. "Johnny, I'm going
to go find a police officer for a report. We can't move around
if it's not safe..."

Johnny spun, high in adrenalin, and spoke up. "You do that. Let
us know that aspect via HT. We'll go find out the medical needs end
of it."

Craig nodded and departed for the front entrance of the hospital
and the receptionist, who would be the first person to notice the
presence of any police officers who began a storm inside.
 
Roy noticed the blood splattered on Dixie's navy colored nursing
sweater. "Are many people getting injured by this shooter?"

"Yeah, good question. Where is he?" Gage asked angrily, repositioning
the air bottle and its dangling mask a little more tightly around his waist
by the straps.

"Fifth floor south, and not just one gunman, but two. And they know each other. 
Roy, there's only one shooting victim who fell out of a stairwell and 
a nurse concussed when she got in the way of someone leaving in a hurry."

"Ok, we'll start sweeping for other injured in the stairwells once the police
have cleared the way ahead for us." Johnny told her. He blinked when he
noticed the bright orange vest that Dixie now wore that had Triage Commander
stamped in black across her breast pocket and in bold print on the back. 
He radioed out to Incident Command. "Squad 51 to Battalion One. 
Head of triage reports only two casualties so far. She has a radio.." he said, giving
her a spare from his jacket pocket. "My partners and I will give further details as 
soon as we know them. Our captain has our incident tags on his clipboard. We will
be heading to the fifth floor, south wing when we are well under police protection.." 
he told him.

## Battalion One, Squad 51. 10-4. I'll have all pumpers and laddertrucks
standing by. I'm sending in your captain to relay to us through you during 
your sweeps. Keep us fully advised on any possible developing fire
situations or other potential life risks.##

"Squad 51, Battalion One. We will advise." Roy answered their district chief.


Dixie  grabbed the sleeve of his turnout. "No one's heard from Joe Early 
since all of this began. He was last seen in the south wing. Kel's gone up
after him." 

"Stupid!" Johnny muttered. "And he's the one who taught the two of us
about considering a scene's safety first." 

"Johnny..Joe's his best friend. And mine. Assign blame when this is all over.
In the mean time, we've a h*ll of a lot of people needing guidance before
they go panicking further. It's partially up to us to make sure they don't 
go hurting themselves trying to get out of here." Dixie changed her ribbing 
tone and said. "I've activated triage protocols hospital wide." she said, 
patting the kit sitting on the desk in front of her. "Using the system."

"The chief's already authorized us to use ours.." Roy said. "Ahead of
time. We knew to bring ours along the moment a large building full of
people was implicated."

A clatter of leather shoes on tiles ended the conversation. Six police officers
with their guns drawn ran into the ER for the elevator lobby and the two stairwell
hubs following Craig Brice, who was acting as their guide. 

Dixie recognized two officers. They came up to the desk. "We're your scouts,
firemen. Stay behind us until we say the coast's clear." said the fair haired
one firmly. Then he smiled. "Hi Dixie.." said Pete Malloy. "Who ticked off
a patient this time? Dietary? Or the billing department?" he joked.

Jim Reed, Pete's squad car partner, gave a quiet nod and started ordering
the public away from the stairwell and elevator lobbies to give them room
to enter. "Pete! I'll take two of these firemen, and you take the other pair."
he said, carefully keeping his loaded gun pointed up at the ceiling.

The paramedics looked around and saw that Cap was quickly 
jogging his way over to them from the crowded entryway.

Malloy motioned Brice and Johnny to go with his solo search. 
"Our other four officers are going for the roof, west and east stairwells, 
and the basement level to see if we can either negotiate with these two 
characters or take them out."

Dixie took a deep breath in sharply, but she knew that lethal force
was in the picture. ::That's ever since Ned ended up with a bullet in his
gut.:: 

"What are their names?" Reed asked Dixie, ready to commit anything
to memory.

"Philomena and Georgio Stephan." she said, checking a chart with fingers
that were already starting to shake, not something she usually suffered from,
no matter how hairy her department became during a work shift.

Gage reached over and squeezed her hand. "It's ok. We'll get him down, and
in one piece, too." he said, nodding at Malloy's hand gesture to begin 
following behind him for the trip up the stairs. "And that goes for Joe, too."
he promised, heading up the stairwell after Pete but before Craig.
Brice pulled the landing door shut behind them with a snick.

A second echo of the same sound repeated a few seconds later over
the loud evacuation babble, when Officer Jim Reed, the junior most half 
of Adam-12's patrol team, took Roy and Captain Stanley with him, 
doing the same search casing, in the opposite stairwell. 

Dixie guessed that it would take them less than three minutes to reach
Dr. Morton's level, even stealth checking around every corner with a muzzle
of answering fire power pointing the way ahead first.

Dixie jumped when the nursing student returned and tapped her lightly
on the shoulder. "Here, Dixie. I thought you'd might like to clean up a little."
said Karen giving her a small bowl half filled with warm water and a
green bottle of Phisoderm and along with another surgical towel.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's ok. Today's the kind of day that'll make anyone jumpy. Including me."

"But you're so... experienced, Miss McCall.. I thought..." 

"Well, you thought wrong. I may be wearing these collar insignias but
I'm still human and can still feel everything happening around me just
as acutely as you can." Dixie told her, a little harshly. Then it was her 
turn to apologize. "Sorry right back. I don't need to vent just yet. The fact 
that I just did's freaking me out a little. How's Ned doing?"

"Dr. Theilen says that the bullet missed the descending aorta and only
lodged in a section of his large intestine without damaging the liver
or bladder. He's earmarked for surgery and he's very stable. 
A surgical resident's monitoring him while we wait for an outcome
in case he needs to be moved from three for someone more critical."
said Karen.

"Good girl. Now how about pouring us a round of coffee?" Dixie smiled, 
fingering the hand held radio that she had craftily turned to Squad 51's 
band. Know-how told her that she could always flip back to the main 
incident channel if a battalion chief wanted to speak with her by listening 
to the scanner that was still on behind her for their hail. Right now, she 
wanted nothing better than to be able to see through four hospital floors 
to the nightmare drama probably unfolding over all their heads.

"Can we even think about drinking these during a time like this?"
she said, pouring two cups from a well heated coffee pot.

"Sure, why not?" Dixie asked. "I'm afraid this whole mess will be with us
for a long while before it's finally over. It'll do our patients no good if
we get overtired and exhausted for not eating or hydrating properly
like we have to do anyway. Just think about it, if we get out of 
commission, then who'll be left to help all of them?" she asked, throwing
a chin out at those moving by the desk for the exits.

The very young student nurse, Karen, smiled nervously. "That makes
a whole lot of sense, Dixie. I- I'm sorry I questioned you."

"Go right on asking questions, Karen. After all, I'm still one of
the senior preceptors for you, even though I'm now wearing this 
triage vest."

"Speaking of that.. why aren't the top end fire chiefs in here inside
the hospital, coordinating efforts to solve our alarm and evacuation 
problems?" she asked.

Dixie sat down on her desk stool, dragging the radio, ivory and black phones
a little closer to her.  She invited Karen to take the one next to her from its
storing place underneath the pharmaceutical cabinet. 
"Well, because in this case, a paramedic outranks any senior ranked fire 
chief wearing a white helmet. You see, when the first units arrive at a 
multi-casualty incident, they are certainly going to be overwhelmed. 
Just look around you." Dixie said casting a hand at the ambulance doors
where a confusion of fire fighters, police officers and reporters, milled about.

"There is a temptation to set up the management levels of the 
organization first, so the operational levels will have supervision when 
they are assigned.  Like what you thought, on their current absence 
in the building.  

"If they wanted to do this, most organizations have to use personnel 
from the first or second wave of responding stations. This removes 
them from the triage / transportation / treatment provider role, creating 
a delay in getting patients to primary care. After 10 to 20 minutes, it would
be a sad sight to see many rescuers in ICS vests, setting up their operations 
and no one attending to the victims.  

"Remember that it is not necessary to assign mid-management 
positions until the maximum span of control is exceeded. An incident 
commander like me in an ER triage role, can easily handle 5 to 7 
direct reporting positions before an Operations Chief or medical group 
supervisor from upstairs or outside, is needed. Assigning your first 
arriving operational units to hands-on functions as much as possible 
will speed up your ability to triage, transport and treat your patients.
That is why Johnny, Roy, Craig and only one fire captain, Hank, was
sent inside to rendevous with us."

The young nurse to be just frowned, biting her lip.

Dixie smiled and closed the young woman's hand around her untouched
coffee cup.  "Karen, if you think about the things that need to be done 
before you can transport a patient, it becomes clear where you need to 
assign your initial resources.  Here's the most critical mantra of triage.
Learn it, because Dr. Brackett will expect you to know this better than
you know CPR...

       "Before you can send a patient to a hospital, you must have an 
        ambulance available and get a destination from an area coordinator. 

      " Before you can get a destination, you need to know how many of what 
        category of patients are loaded in the ambulance. 

      " Before you can identify what category a patient is in, they must be 
        tagged and carried to the ambulance loading area. 

       "Before they can be tagged, they must be triaged...."


Karen's eyes got a little wider. "And no one is better trained to triage
already,.. than a..."

"...a paramedic." Dixie said with a little bow of her head in a knowing grin.
"That's right. They're better than doctors. In that respect. They won't
get tripped up on diagnoses when sorting out any sick or injured. They stick with
just the basics on determining survivability and nothing more. Now let
me tell you how our triage system works now. This is a new system our
administrators just accepted from the fire department.. That is why those
condition orange lights are flashing over all our work stations. Ready?"

Karen nodded her head.

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

Pete Malloy hit the top stair and dropped onto his stomach after 
turning the knob ajar on the stairway door above him. He glanced down
to make sure that Brice and Johnny were well below him by two full landing
turns, before he cracked the door open with his night stick.

The door swung open with a creak onto a pitch black fifth floor to his
great dismay and chagrin, absolutely nobody appeared to be around.

Malloy squinted in the dimness, eyes casting around for the 
nurse's station, where the hospital operator had said that four staff
members and one injured nurse were trapped behind.
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos: None. 

*************************************************************
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> 
Date: Fri Sep 30, 2005  9:46 pm 
Subject: Endgame.. 


The Los Angeles County police officer risked
speaking softly. "Hey..." he stage whispered. "You
behind the desk. Where are they?"

He heard the sound of a woman's muffled moan and
that made him duck his head even lower against
the floor between the frame and the door.

"He's down the north wing. We think by the surgical
store closet." came back another whisper. Pete Malloy 
saw the glint of glasses in the dark reflecting the bright 
light of the stairwell. It was Dr. Morton.

Pete put the safety back on his handgun, and belly 
crawled to the desk and then, he, too, took cover
beneath its high edge. "You put the lights out?"

"Yeah, figured we'd make less visible targets."

"That was smart thinking."

Another moan made Malloy look down and the policeman
saw a penlight briefly turn on in someone's hand that
illuminated the face of a dazed nurse. "How is she?"

"She'll be okay. Hit her head when Stephan decided
that he had had enough of his expensive hospital stay." 
Mike whispered, still cradling her head in his lap with a 
few fingers monitoring Carol Evan's neck pulse. "I don't
know where his wife is. This surgical tech swears up
and down that she hasn't left the room yet."

The young man huddled next to the african american
doctor nodded, vigorously. "One of our doctors may
still be in there. No one's seen him since the first shots
were fired." he fretted, keeping his voice low.

Pete set his lips in a thin line, holstering his gun for
the moment. "First things first. We should get this
nurse and all of you, out of danger. Can we move her?"

"Yeah, her back and neck weren't injured..." declared
the tech, while Morton worked to soothe Carol into
keeping quiet.

Pete pulled his hand held radio off his belt and turned the
volume way down. "744 to Squad 51. The coast's clear
so far. Beeline only from the stairwell straight to
the desk. Eat the floor coming over so you're not
spotted. Tell your firefighters friends that we need some
way to get an adult female who can't walk down the
stairwell. She's breathing and semi-conscious. I'll watch
your back while the two of you get this nurse and the 
other staff here to safety."

Morton grinned when he recognized Gage's voice
over the handy talkie. ##Already got that covered with
a stokes. Here we come....##

"Anyone else up here with us?" Malloy asked the
frightened hospital workers.

Morton shook his head. "They all got out except for
our missing doctor."

"Ok, we'll look for him next." Pete promised.

Pete saw Brice briefly stand to unscrew the light bulb
inside the stairwell on their level so that they could 
open the door without being exposed by back lighting.

Then he saw Gage prop open the door with a jacket halligan.

The two paramedics softly stomach dragged their bare 
stokes across the open space of the dim hallway between
them, taking care not to rattle the straps inside the 
chicken wire mesh. They quickly got under the cover of the
nurses' station and the eerie condition orange beacon
flashing there and they drew their legs up protectively
to their chins.

Pete motioned ahead of them. "Wait to get them outta
here until I give the high sign. I'm gonna make sure our
friends out there don't get any more bright ideas about
shooting anyone else."

"How's Ned, the orderly?" Mike asked.

"He's still alive last I heard." Malloy told Morton. "Ok, hold
fast until you hear me tap my nightstick on the floor."

Morton and the others nodded.

Pete turned and spoke once more into his radio on the quietest
volume. "744 to 2430.."

##Reed here.##

"I'm making my move from the nurses' station, headed your
way, on the north side of the wall along the bottom. Firemen 
behind me will be getting the desk nurse and medical staff outta 
here down the same stairwell I came up in. Then Brice and Gage
are gonna take cover back behind the desk..."

##10-4. I'll cover you. Any sign of those other doctors or the two
suspects?## asked Jim, Pete's partner.

"No, 'fraid not..." Malloy sighed. "Here I come.."  

##Go.. I see you now.##

Brice and Gage froze in place with their fire gloves on Carol to
keep watch over her while Pete scrambled over to the cover
of a tipped over gurney and then further down towards the 
south wing at the crossing intersection of the two fifth floor 
corridors. 

They held their breaths and Johnny tried to shush Evans 
in her half state with a hand over her mouth while they tried
to keep an ear out for Malloy's sharp signal.

From what seemed like an eternity later, came three taps 
and the flash of dull blue metal of Pete's shotgun as he 
redrew it and pointed it towards the deeper shadows of 
the south wing. 

"Ok..that's us. All right. Ready?...I got her shoulders, 
Craig..." whispered Johnny as he and Brice and Morton 
lifted Carol up and placed her into the stokes basket 
on the floor. Then they began the slow process of dragging 
her stretcher across the tiles, keeping on both of their 
stomachs. Fortunately, the waxed linoleum made it
relatively easy for them.

A minute later, and Carol was firmly in the hands of a 
series of firefighters in the stairwell, being passed down 
hand to hand as she was conducted to Emergency
as fast as they could move her out of danger.
 
Gage reluctantly let her go. Brice got his attention 
with a tap on the shoulder as the rest of the fifth floor 
staff passed by him. 

"Be careful you two. Here." said Dr. Morton, shoving a 
small airways and emergency kit into the paramedics 
arms. "For when you find him.." Mike said about Joe Early.
"And Kel's being stupid, too. He's somewhere up there
trying to find Joe."

"We know.." said Johnny unhappily. "Dixie told us.
We'll find em. After all, we are experts on search and
rescue, remember?" Gage whispered sarcastically.

That only made Morton grin as he disappeared 
down the stairs. Then the doctor's face was all business
as he once againgot ready to focus on Carol Evans' 
well being and care.

The false bravado Johnny put on for Morton's benefit washed
away in a wave of nervousness that made him jittery. He
ducked back down to the floor imitating Brice for their trip
back to the nurses' station. "When I joined the department
and said I wanted some excitement, I didn't mean this 
particular kind of 'fire' fighting." he complained to dump 
a little stress.

"That's what the men in blue are for, Johnny. To run us some
interference so we don't have to worry about it." Craig smiled 
back."...much." he added. "Officer Malloy wouldn't have told us
to stay in a place that he felt wasn't safe. As long as we remain 
here, nothing'll happen to us."

"We hope.." Gage mumbled.

A flash of gold white light and the thunderous barrage of two fired
shots in close quarters startled the firemen, who kissed the ground
underneath the counter. The echoing violent whines died away
into a frightening silence.

Swallowing around his dry throat, Brice lifted his radio to his ear
for word of an outcome. No voices came out of it.

Johnny stayed Craig's hand when he wanted to speak aloud to
the two officers on the band with them. Gage put a finger to
his lips, listening to an area just ahead of the desk.

A man in white, vivid enough to see, stumbled barefoot down the hall
in front of them, trailing a torn I.V. line. It was Mr. Stephan! And the
shadow Brice and Johnny could see coming from him, 
showed the outline of a small revolver clearly..

Johnny's breath whistled loudly in his throat as numbing near panic
almost crippled him. But the two firefighters didn't move a muscle, 
instinctively locked into a freeze.

Grunting in anger, Mr. Stephan staggered past the desk and down 
the stairwell propped open by Johnny's jacket tool.

Brice didn't wait. He got on the radio. "He just went past us down
our stairwell!" he whispered sharply.

##Understood. Reed's gonna follow! Hang tight. And get ready
for the lights to come back on. We're gonna start evening the odds!##

The whole floor re-illuminated in a hum of power, right down to the
ringing telephones. 

Brice reached up over the counter, and yanked them, one by one
off their receivers with fast tosses to re-silence them for the two
policemen still deep in their hunt for the Stephans. Jim Reed
ran by in a duck as he began his careful chase after Georgio.
"It's safe up to Room 601. Let Malloy check out 602 before you
search down the hall any farther than that first room!"

The two paramedics nodded, still staring at the ceiling
pointed gun in Reed's hands. 

Johnny managed a little bravery. "Were those shots yours or 
theirs?"

"Theirs.." Jim grinned craftily. "We wouldn't have missed."

And then he was gone, leaving the two paramedics alone
and huddled on the floor in each other's arms.

Slowly, Brice and Gage unfolded to begin searching for
Brackett and Early within the area Reed told them to.

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

Dixie was still doing a fine job keeping Karen, the student nurse,
calm. "Managing a scene with multiple patients can be 
frustrating and difficult. There are just a few steps needed that
will help you systematically triage and treat each patient. Now I'm
sure you're familiar with the red tags, those suffering from life threatening
conditions that might die if not treated as soon as possible. Well, there
are two other colors, yellow/delayed, and green/minor..."

Karen began to shift uncomfortably on her seat.

Dixie immediately soothed her.
"It is important to recognize that you are not abandoning patients by 
assigning them the Delayed or Minor category tags. Remember
that they will be directed to the rescuers that have been assigned to 
handle those kinds of patients.  They will also continually monitor
all the yellows and the greens and re-assign them to the red/immediate 
category if they start to deteriorate, ok?"

Karen nodded nervously. 

Dixie went on.. "Now, yellow is delayed, strictly for those patients
whose respirations are under 30 per minute, with capillary 
refill under 2 seconds and able to follow simple commands. Now
for the green tags. Remember that patients with minor injuries 
are still patients. Some of them may be frightened and in pain. Reassure 
them as much as you can that they will get help and transport as soon 
as the more severely injured patients have been transported first...
Lastly,.. black tags are for the deceased.." Dixie shared. "Now....
For triage sorting..ask those who are not injured or who have only minor 
injuries to identify themselves. If they can,..tag those with minor injuries 
as minor/green..."

Karen tried very hard not to fidget as the noise in the ward began
to grow from some kind of new development down the hall..

Dixie drew back her attention gently.. "Go to your next victim..
and think.. respiration first. Determine if the patient is breathing. 
If yes, immediately check the respiration rate.

"If there's none, reposition the patient. If he or she does not start breathing 
spontaneously, do not start CPR. Any patient not breathing after 
repositioning, you'll tag deceased/black. Move on to the next victim.
Not starting CPR may be the hardest thing you must do at a multiple 
casualty scene. But if you perform CPR on one patient, many others 
may die for the sliver of a chance that your pulseless victim may have.
It isn't worth the price to pay in stopping to help that kind of 
physical finding." Dixie told her.

"Even with so many doctors and others around to help us figure things
out?" the student nurse asked.

"Even then. You can only run a code on a triage scene if you have the
personnel to cover it and still do what needs to be done without pause."
Dixie said.

"But what if they have a neck injury.. or--"

"You will have to position the airway without manually stabilizing the 
cervical spine. This is counter to what you have been taught and may 
result in worsening a cervical spine injury. But if you don't reposition 
the victim immediately, the person will die in the field. You won't have 
the personnel to carefully stabilize the C-spine and you can't afford to 
let other victims die while you take time to do it yourself. 
If the patient begins breathing spontaneously after repositioning, tag 
the person immediate/red and move on. If necessary, ask an uninjured 
victim to help maintain the open-airway position. So, to reiterate...
if a person begins breathing after repositioning, tag immediate/red."

Karen tried not to pay attention to the police officers suddenly rushing
in from surrounding areas around their desk. She stared only at
Dixie's face for a small measure of calm that she wasn't feeling herself.

McCall was a rock. "Next victim.. If the victim is breathing when you 
approach, but has a respiratory rate of more than 30, tag immediate/red
and move on. Don't take time to formally count the respirations. 
If the rate seems too fast, tag the victim red and go to the next person.
So... a respiratory rate greater than thirty is a...."

Karen parroted mechanically, trying not to panic outwardly at the commotion
going on near them. "Red tag, immediate.."

"Right... Good." Dixie said. "We're not in danger, Karen, so ignore
all the fuss over there. It's not our concern right now. Triaging is. Let's
continue... Umm, where was I? Oh, yes...perfusion.
If you can feel a radial pulse, move on to the mental status assessment.

"If you can't feel it, the blood pressure's at shock levels below 90 systolic.
Tag the patient immediate/red. If you have an uninjured victim near you
then, have them put direct pressure on any visible, serious bleeding 
and then move on to the next patient. In sum at this step:
No radial pulse at the wrist means.... red tag/immediate.
 
"Next, check for capillary refill by squeezing a nailbed.
If capillary refill takes more than 2 seconds to return to normal,
tag the patient immediate/red and have another put direct 
pressure on any visible, serious bleeding so you can 
move on to the next patient.  Capillary refill that takes greater
than 2 seconds to normalize is a red tag/immediate.
But, If capillary refill is less than 2 seconds, move to getting
a mental status..
 
"If the victim is unconscious or can't follow simple commands, 
tag them immediate/red and move on to the next victim. 
Now, you're probably wondering about these yellow tags, huh?"
Dixie said, fingering those in her kit.

Karen nodded. 

Dixie completed her thought. "If the victim can follow simple 
commands, tag them  yellow/delayed and move on to the next victim.
And that's all there is to it.." she smiled.

"That's all?" Karen gaped.

"That's all. Triage isn't rocket science, it's one hundred percent
common sense. And this new system of the fire department really
works. Now we may not have to use it today, there's always hoping."
Dixie said, her eyes getting a little wide with irony.

"And how.." gushed Karen with stress. "Now that I know what to do,
I hope not to have to."

"Good girl. Drink your coffee.." Dixie told her. 

Karen gulped it down. 

"Ok, do you have any questions for me about this triaging system?"

Before Karen could open her mouth, Carol was brought in via stokes
and then there was no more time for talking.

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

They found Joe Early where he lay in 602 by line of sight but 
nobody couldn't approach him, for Mrs. Stephan was standing 
over him with a gun.

Malloy was all cop, his nose barely sticking around the edge
of the doorframe. He motioned Brice and Gage to get into
the flanking rooms to open both connecting doors ajoined on
opposite sides of Room 602 so that all three of them could see 
each other yet still be out of the line of fire from the very upset
woman. "What's the problem Philomena? Your husband was
receiving the best care possible for his cancer.." the cop 
asked.

"You american peoples! All you care about is the money in
your pockets! My husband is in pain! Not the kind that hurts
him here.." she pointed to her stomach where Georgio's stitches
were. "But the kind that hurts him here!" and she pointed to 
her temple, alarmingly, using the same gun she was brandishing.
"And I don't think I can take much more either.." she weeped.

Then pure fury consumed her and she picked up a steel bedpan
and hurled it randomly across the room. It clattered with a racket
and bounced right in front of Craig Brice's hiding place in
the side doorway. Johnny Gage ducked in sympathy on his
side of the room in the mirroring alcove entryway as Craig caught
the flying thing before it nailed him.

"Easy, Philomena, take it easy! Now let's relax and think about this, 
shall we?" Pete asked her without showing himself once iota from 
around the door frame. "Acting hasty will only get more people hurt.."

That acted like a pistol shot in Philomena and her mouth flopped
clean open. "My Georgio hurt somebody?" she asked in her
thick Greek accent. The gun in her hand fluttered from her temple,
back down to at her side. 

Malloy used the distraction to motion the firefighters to take a
better look at Joe who was still motionless on his back, lying 
partially underneath the crash cart, his face full of blood from
a freely bleeding head wound and split lip.

Gage cocked his head and was alarmed to find that the semi 
comatose doctor was gurgling. "Doc! Hey! Roll over!" he
shouted, unable to stop himself. "Or you're gonna suffocate
and choke to death on all the blood!"

Philomena startled, whipping up her gun to point at the source 
of the sound. Malloy, just as fast, whirled into the main doorway
from the hallway, pointing his own gun straight at her. "Hold it
right there. I don't want to hurt you. That's just a friend wanting
to help that man right over there.." Pete told her, throwing his eyes
at the strangling Dr. Early. 

Philomena's hand never wavered. Neither did Malloy's. 
She didn't even seem to care that a gun, just as lethal as
her own, was aimed right back at her chest in a line of kill shot.
"What man?" she asked.  She didn't seem able to comprehend
that her husband's doctor was lying in a pool of blood at
her feet. All she cared about was her husband.

Malloy changed tactics and he left the two firemen paramedics
to figure out Joe's urgent dilemma on their own. He had to worry 
about his own skin, first. "Where's Georgio, Phila? Can you tell 
me that? It wouldn't be right if he keeps on trying to hurt the 
people who are only trying to help him, would it?"

Philomena tipped her head in high emotional distress."No,
it wouldn't be right. I have to protect him.. don't you see? I'm
his wife." she sobbed.

It was then the police officer and two paramedics realized
that Philomena was deep in the early stages of a complete
acute, nervous breakdown.

Johnny snapped his mind back to the present. ::Joe'll die
if I don't do something fast..::  He continued to shout. "Joe!
Roll over! You're bleeding real bad into your mouth. Can
you hear me?! Joe?!"

But Joe only choked, his breathing attempts growing weaker
as he drown in blood. Then he stilled, turning blue.

Thinking fast, Gage retreated back into 601 and fumbled
with that room's crash cart, grabbing up a whole box of 
endotracheal tube guide wires. He ripped it open and
began to twist them together. "I'm gonna hook his belt,
Brice, to drag him over here! But I'm gonna need a distraction
first."

"What kind of distraction?" Craig asked him. 

"I don't know! Think of something. You always tell everybody
indirectly how smart you are...so live up to it." Johnny grunted, 
groping cross the floor with his swifty improvised tether, still 
keeping under heavy cover away from Mrs. Stephan's line 
of sight. 

The hooked end of the wire flipped open Joe's white lab
coat almost instantly, but complete missed snagging 
a belt loop.

Groaning, Gage tried again while tuning out the desperate
dialogue carrying on between Malloy and Philomena, still 
locked one on one beneath mutually pointing gun muzzles. 

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

Captain Stanley felt alone in the crowd of e.r. folk. He cast
about, only half listening to his HT when he caught word that
Mr. Stephan was on his way down the west stairwell, still armed.
And that, cast pure lead into his chest. "This has to stop. This
has to stop now.." he mumbled.

Not considering his own safety in his emotional turmoil, Cap
snuck by the security guards and started jogging up that 
same stairwell to take matters into his own hands.

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

Jim Reed was pure stealth on the stairs. He took the steps
quietly, one by one, letting his gun's muzzle aim whereever his
eyes were looking as he pursued Mr. Stephan down the landing.
He didn't say a word, knowing that any noise he made might be
rewarded with the snapping crack of a bullet sent his way. He
didn't like going downwards in an active gun pursuit. He never did.
Going in a downward direction was never good because 
balance wasn't preserved.

Maybe it was because he was thinking so hard, but the next
turn, brought him face to face with a charging madman in a patient
gown. 

Jim Reed raised his gun and braced on the steps to fire at
Mr. Stephan at point blank range. But he didn't pull the trigger.
Not yet. He began to search for a reason for a need to shoot 
in those few precious seconds while he looked for the telltale glint 
of blue black metal Georgio's hand.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On the third try, Johnny did it, snagging Joe's belt firmly with
his improvised dragging wire. "Craig! I got him! Distract her
while I move him over to me!"

Brice, looked around desperately for some means but then his
eyes alighted on the bedpan next to him. He picked it up.

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

Malloy told Philomena a simple thing. 

A lie.

"Mrs. Stephan, your husband has given up to our officers."
he told her, holding up the radio he carried in his other hand
slowly. "I just heard him do it." said Pete, keeping his bead
on the distraught woman.

"What?" Philomena blinked. "No..." she started to fret, suddenly
dropping her gun's muzzle away from her silver badged target. 
"That's impossible! We agreed that we would not do this thing 
until the doctors promised to help him using assistance from 
your government for all the bills. They... they are growing 
too much.." she wailed.

From out in the hall, the sound of distant shots fired, drifted into the room.

The effect on Philomena was dramatic. "Georgio?! Why are you killing 
people?! The war was over twenty five years ago..." she whispered in
agony, dropping her eyes away from Reed while her chin lifted in
an attempt to peer down the hallway.

Brice reacted, and threw the bedpan at the code blue button over 
the patient rumpled bed. It activated and soon the hospital operator 
began her urgent page. ##Code blue. Code blue. Room 602. Code 
blue. Code blue. ##

At the same moment, Gage pulled back on the wire, dragging Joe
Early swiftly across the floor toward him.

Startled at the sudden activity, Philomena whirled and fired blindly.
Two bullets bounced off the floor in between Joe's shoes as
he was dragged to safety. 

"Drop it!" roared Malloy, taking the safety off of his gun.

With a sob, Philomena cast down her gun and fled out the open
window onto the ledge outside the hospital.

Malloy just as quickly ran over to the fallen gun, and disarmed it.
He got on his radio. "744 to Battalion One. We've got a woman
on the east side of the building on a window ledge. Possibly suicidal.
The gun threat in room 602, is over." he told them.

##10-4, LAPD. Sending up a ladder and bucket team a.s.a.p.##


Brice saw that the coast was clear and he ignored the drama unfolding
outside the window. He got to Gage's side as fast as he could. 
"Johnny?"

Gage had Joe Early flipped over onto his side, draining out 
a lot of free blood and saliva. "He's able to breathe.......now.
Just gotta get some more of this out." he added more 
sarcastically. "What about Philomena?"

"She's no longer our problem." Craig said as he and Johnny 
helped Early.
 
They held his mouth open while he worked it free, mouthful
by coughed mouthful as he began to wake up under their
ministrations.

Soon, the code blue team arrived from an emergency freight
elevator into 602 to assist the relieved paramedics on managing
Joe's recovery.

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

Jim Reed's finger was just about to press on the trigger when
a sudden blast of water from a fire hose suddenly pinned the
crazed man against the wall. 

The completely surprised officer whirled to find a determined
Captain Stanley standing next to an equally pissed off Dr. 
Brackett, helping him on the firehose nozzle.

A huge smile filled the young officer's face when they finally
turned the water off. Mr. Stephan dropped his gun and started
clutching his side where the water had stung his surgical stitches
and tore a few open. "Now's that's a novel way to clean up the 
picture." said Reed.

Kel started to laugh. So did Cap, until a spasm gripped him around
his throat and chest. He bent over and fell against the wall, dropping
the charged firehose.

Dr. Brackett grabbed him. "Captain Stanley? What is it?"

"My chest.." Hank hissed. "It's been hurting since last night.."

"Put your arm over my shoulder. Let's get you downstairs and I'll
take a look at you. Can you walk?" Dr. Brackett asked. He motioned 
for a firefighter to help him with Cap even as a whole slew of cops 
ran up past them to help Officer Reed cuff Mr. Stephan.

"Yeah..yeah. I think so.. This is weird.." he gasped. "I'm healthy
as an ox I tell you."

"Maybe so. But if this is a new problem, I wanna know all about it.
Let me run a few tests on you?"

"Fine by me.. Oooo." Cap grimaced.

Brackett caught more of the captain's weight. "Orderly! Get a 
gurney over here on the double!" he said as they exited the
stairwell. 

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

Roy DeSoto had been the first firefighter on the ledge to handle 
Mrs. Stephan's situation. And he was still talking to her as she
cried, holding onto the ledge's thin steel safety railing, the only 
barrier between herself and the five story fall to the ground. 

"Mrs. Stephan. Your husband is fine. I don't know what you 
thought earlier in the room, but..I- I just got word that he's 
been taken into safe custody by the police. He hasn't been
killed like you say you think he has. No one else has been
shot. Just the one orderly. And he's gonna be fine."

"Georgio...?" she whispered. "My Georgio..." 

"He's ok. Please, d- don't do anything hasty. We all just wanna help 
ya." Roy said from the window,stalling, as he watched the 
bucket, still three stories below, rise slowly up towards them.

Philomena made a face and suddenly saw down the front of
her blouse, noticing the splatters of blood just then on her hands
and sleeves. "What...what did I do?.. " she asked softly, trembling.
"Did I hurt someone?"

DeSoto carefully turned up his radio as he listened to Johnny
and Brice give a care report to those down in the e.r. base station
through the HT. He heard his partners mention the fact that Joe
wasn't shot anywhere, only beaned from something that had
inflicted blunt trauma. Johnny guessed over the airwaves 
that Joe had been knocked out with a patient's bedpan from 
what blood he had remembered seeing on the one Philomena 
had thrown. "Uhh,..not badly. Anger does sometimes get the best 
of people. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're under a lot of 
stress right now and sometimes that could be just coming 
out in an odd way." DeSoto reasoned with a small smile. "It's 
really ok to be feeling the way you are now."

But Philomena wasn't listening. "I... beat up..somebody?" she 
asked again, in growing horror. She had very good hearing and
she had listened to every word coming from Johnny and Brice's
HT transmission while they worked on Joe Early, inside.
 
Without a word, Mrs. Stephan rose up from her crouch on
the window ledge and leaped off the height before anyone
could stop her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe Early and Captain Stanley lay on matching beds in the same
treatment room. Roy was taking Hank's blood pressure.  
Kel bounced back and forth between his two patients, chattering
worse than Dixie in a firm mother hen mode. Cap's EKG was 
on audible and his I.V. was T.K.O. 

"I'm seeing nothing out of the ordinary, captain." Kel concluded,
pulling off his stethoscope. He began folding up the cardiac strip
for Hank's patient chart. "You're absolutely fine. Most likely your 
symptoms are all just psychosomatic because you're holding in
something that's bothering you, like the chaplain said you were 
doing."

"Mind caused? Whew.. that's a relief.." sighed Cap on the table. 
"For a minute on those stairs, I thought I was a goner. Guess 
I'm just feeling old today."

The hospital chaplain stood, acting his role as a CISM
counselor for both Cap and Marco. And they were finally
talking together freely.

The man of the cloth continued his counsel and he chuckled.
"I frequently run into the old 'dinosaurs,' who says, 'I don't need 
this, but I'll be here to see you kids through it.' Then, during 
debriefing, the dino'll bring up a car accident that happened 30 years 
ago, and he'll recall every detail. I can't stress enough the 
need to talk it all out, fellas." he says. "I don't care if you talk to your 
steering wheel, your dog, your partner or your spouse. Part of the whole 
macho image in emergency services is having this mindset about 
not taking your work home to the family, but our entire team tells 
people, 'When you've had a tough call, your kids know as soon your 
foot hits the door that something is different with Dad. They 
aren't sure what and don't understand all the ins and outs, but we always 
strongly encourage everyone to talk to their spouse and kids about 
the call. The more you talk about an event, the easier it is for you to 
park it in the right spot. It's having the attitude of, 'I gotta suck it in; I 
gotta keep it in my gut; I can't talk about it,' for fear of being a wimp 
or not 'one of the boys' that's self-defeating." said the chaplain.

Dr. Brackett agreed with him.
"I see emergency services folks having heart attacks at age 59 
and cirrhosis at age 56," said Kel. "They're chewing up their bodies over 
20 years of service, because they didn't go park stuff.  Bottling things
up had literally eaten away at them. So keep what the chaplain's telling
you in mind. Every time you talk about an incident, it'll take a little 
more of the load off your shoulders."

"CISM is not a magical thing that cures all. But neither is it a stigma, boys. So
use it. And use me. Now. Both the good doctor and I are after the same thing
here. It's all about keeping healthy people like the both of you, 
healthy and strong." said the chaplain. "You see, the principle of all this
is that sometimes decent folks like yourselves just need to get a little mental 
overhaul or two done to learn how to handle the emotions which can come 
barreling down on a truly bad call.  Please, call me anytime you want to talk about 
one of those and I promise, I'll drop everything I'm doing and stop by 
the stationhouse or to your own home." and the chaplain handed Captain 
Stanley a small light blue business card.


"O.k." promised Marco and Hank.

Joe Early was thoughtful. "So, Johnny. The nurses are telling me that
you signalled my potential code by throwing a bedpan at the code blue
button on the wall?" he chuckled as a nurse cleaned up his face and a 
resident got a local ready to stitch up his lip.

"I didn't think of that gem, doc. Brice did." Gage complained.

Cap laughed. "And I thought I was the one acting a little odd with my 
reactions. I wouldn't call that a by the book protocol, Craig. What happened
to your personal mantra of being letter perfect in all that you do on the job?"

Brice just shrugged, finding himself at a loss for an answer.

"There's being perfect and then there's being a genuine menace 
to society, Cap." sighed Roy DeSoto. "I don't think a flying bed pan'll
count for too much in the long run."

"Guess it won't." Cap agreed.

"Not unless you're dying under another crash cart and we're being
held at bay by gunpoint again." Gage quipped to Joe Early. 
"Then, it just might become another standard emergency medical 
hospital protocol if people begin to see how useful that little trick is."

Dixie and her student nurse Karen, just rolled their eyes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was three days later,

Gage and Brice were drying the dishes early in the morning in
the kitchen, when the sound of an engine pulling up in the backyard,
garnered their attention. "Shh, here they come.."

Brice snickered. "I wonder how it went. Did Brackett and the others
live up to their word?"

"They must have." laughed Gage, as he peeked through the blinds
at the angry expressions he was seeing on the rest of the gang
as they hopped off the old refurbished engine in their dress uniforms.
"Well, well, well. Looks like this joking stew is well seasoned and
ready to eat."

Brice smiled and handed Johnny another clean towel.

Gil, filling in for Marco while he took a few days off to talk with
the CISM counselors some more, asked. "What did you two do?"

Gage, started smiling. "We didn't do anything. Dixie, Kel and
Joe did all of it for us.." he said, without elaborating.

Gil cracked Johnny in the butt with a wet towel for being evasive.

Gage howled, rubbed a cheek, and then, finally, answered. 
"They took an empty box, put a couple of full soda cans in it 
to weigh it down and tied it to the back bumper of our old engine 
with some string. They then wrote on it with black marker 
"FREE KITTENS. just before the start of Dixie's parade event.."

"They didn't." chuckled Gil.

"They did." said Brice laughing even louder, his voice barely
a squeak when it came out.

Cap, once he got inside the station, made sure he glared
good and hard at Craig and Johnny. 

But no one glared harder at them, than Chet Kelly.

He said. "We left the station this morning and got pulled over 
by the fuzz about ten miles down the road I'll have you know. 
Clowns, Cap. The both of them!"

"Well, what happened?" asked Gil, fighting to keep from smiling.

Stoker told him. "The cop at first was  furious, but then saw 
he Johnny and Brice's little joking stunt and couldn't stop laughing. 

"And we went through that whole d*mned parade trying to figure 
out why people kept pulling up beside us, yelling." Hank scowled.

"Well, well well, Mr. Craig T. Brice. Guess we can rest on our laurels now.
grinned Gage. "That prank of yours, has simply got to be the best joke I've 
ever had the pleasure to help sow." Johnny said with a lopsided smirk. 
"Congratulations, Craig. I think we pulled it off in grand style,..like
true masters." and he started to laugh aloud to the point of tears.

Brice had only one thing to say to that. "Phantom, read it and weep." 
he told Chet and the others, winking just his left eye..."...for I do 
believe that you all......have just been seriously ...had."
 

FIN
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos: None. 

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