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************************** From: rosanne iho <irosanne@yahoo.com> Date: Sun Nov 17, 2002 8:12 pm Subject: Only In The Movies It was an absolutely beautiful, balmy, summer evening in Southern California. In the rec' room of Los Angeles County Fire Station 51, six firemen sat huddled in front of a TV set, watching the Dodgers and the Padres battling it out in a late-night double-header. The home team had taken the first game. The men cheered, as Dodger's pitcher, Don Sutton, struck out the Padres--one, two, three. The Dodgers came to bat. First baseman, Steve Garvey, hit a single. Outfielder, Dave Lopes, also singled. Sutton walked. With the bases loaded--and no outs--Dodger slugger, Dusty Baker, stepped up to the plate. "There's the wind up...and the pi--!" the announcer began, only to be drowned out by the Station's alarm. There was a group groan. "Station 51..." the dispatcher began. The television was flicked off. The rec' room reluctantly emptied. "Man down...unknown type rescue...213 East Morrow Drive...Ambulance responding... Two-One-Three East Morrow Drive...Time out...23:02." "Station 51...KMG-365," Captain Hank Stanley acknowledged, as his crews climbed into their respective rescue vehicles, tossing turnout coats and helmets on. He handed Squad 51's driver a copy of the call slip and then hurried over to assume his seat in the Engine. Moments later, the rigs exited the parking bay and pulled out onto the dark, deserted street in front of the Fire Station--lights flashing and sirens wailing. |
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213 East Morrow Drive turned out to be an enormous mansion with a tiled roof and gables, surrounded by an ancient cottonwood grove. The hedges lining the circular drive were untrimmed, and the large lawns lacked a manicured look, as well. The trucks pulled right up in front of the place. Their drivers cut the sirens, and their occupants piled out. The paramedics grabbed some equipment from the Squad's side compartments and then joined their fellow firefighters at the front door. Their Captain pressed the doorbell. An eerie 'gong' sound filled the air. The men exchanged amused glances and waited patiently on the moonlit porch for someone to appear. When nobody did, Stanley gasped--impatiently--and hit the 'gong' again...which resulted in several snorts of suppressed laughter. Hank gave up on the 'gong' and began banging a big, brass door-knocker. 'C'mon...c'mon...' Paramedic John Gage silently urged, 'These equipment cases ain't getting any lighter...' He finally set his heavy burdens down and took a step or two back, to stare up at the big, ugly abode. "Yah know...I saw a house just like this on the Late-Late Show the other night." "Yeah...Me, too..." Firefighter Chet Kelly quietly confessed, as his feet shifted uncomfortably beneath him, "It was in one of those horror flics." "Right!" John continued, "The butler kept a beautiful blonde heiress chained up in the dungeon! The place was loaded with secret passages and--" "--And that's the only place you're ever going to find a house like that," his partner, Roy DeSoto suddenly interrupted, "In the movies!" Gage stared sadly at DeSoto for a few seconds and then slowly shook his head. "No imagination!" "Kelly! Lopez! Grab some flashlights and check the back of the house!" their Commander bugled, bored with his banging. "Before we go barging in," he told his Engineer, Mike Stoker, "I'd better call dispatch and make sure we've got the right address..." He slipped a HT from his right coat pocket and thumbed the call button. "L.A., this is County 51..." "Go ahead, 51..." |
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"L.A., request address check on our last call, logged at 23:02..." "Standby, 51...51, the call reads: Man down...unknown type rescue... 213 East Morrow Drive." "Roger that, L.A.," the Captain acknowledged, "51 clear." Stanley stared up at the house number--213--for a few seconds and then turned back to Stoker. "Mike, you sure this is East Morrow Drive?" "Well, if it's not," his Engineer began, "someone's been playing games with the street signs." "Man!" Kelly breathlessly exclaimed upon his return, "It's even creepier out back!" His Captain rolled his eyes and questioned the third member of his engine crew, "No answer?" Marco Lopez shook his helmeted head. "Well, we can't stand out here all night!" their Commander finally determined and turned the door knob. Stanley smiled, as the heavy portal swung open. There would be no need for the forceable-entry tools. "Fire Department!" he shouted as he stepped into the dimly-lit entryway, "Anybody home?!" No answer. The paramedics picked their equipment back up and then they, and the others, followed their fearless leader inside. "This is the Fire Department!" Stanley called out again, "Anybody home?!" Still no answer. In fact, except for the loud ticking of a clock in the entrance hall, the whole house was filled with an eerie silence. The paramedics sighed and set their heavy cases down again. Stanley turned to his men. "All right, Roy... You and Marco check upstairs! Mike and I will cover this floor. Gage, Kelly, you two get the basement! Move out!" "What are we looking for?" Kelly nervously inquired of his search partner. "Beats me!" Gage teased, "It's an unknown type rescue..." "How about the basement door--for starters!" their Captain impatiently prodded. The two foot-dragging firefighters fled the entrance hall. They managed to make their way into the kitchen. John jerked a door open--a broom closet. Chet pulled another portal open--a pantry. Gage latched onto a third door's knob and pulled. It's un-oiled hinges creaked, eerily. He smiled, triumphantly and motioned his search-mate over. Kelly flicked his flashlight on and shone it down a very steep set of basement stairs. "If there's a beautiful blonde heiress down there," Gage began, "I get to rescue her!" "That's not a dungeon!" Kelly reminded him. John stared sadly at Chet, and shook his head, "No imagination..." "Oh-oh no," Kelly corrected his colleague, "I've got an imagination, all right! That's why I'm gonna let you go first. That way, if there's a tall dude down there--with a long, black cloak and a wolf's-head cane..." he paused to tap Gage on the chest, "you get to rescue him!" John swallowed hard and started down the stairs. "Thanks!" he muttered, sarcastically. They got about two steps down and then stopped, hearing their Captain calling them. They gladly retreated and went racing back to the entrance hall. "Yeah, Cap?!" the panting pair simultaneously exclaimed, as they came skidding to a stop in front of Hank Stanley. |
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**************************** Date: Tue, 19 Nov 2002 18:54:30 -0800 (PST) From: "Jeff Seltun" <finiterider@yahoo.com> Subject: The Stuff of Dreams The phone rang two times and the pauses showing his call going unanswered between them only increased his anxiety. ::Why am I feeling like an errant school boy? I'm forty two years old.:: thought Dr. Brackett. ::Dad is just dad to me, isn't he?:: his thoughts rose. ------- ------- ------- "Because he's you're dad." Dixie's voice spoke from his memory of a conversation he had a week ago with his husky throated head ER nurse on just that same subject. "And you still look up to him. After all, you did follow in his footsteps getting into the medical field." she said. "Emergency medicine's a far cry from psychiatry Dix. I didn't follow anyone to get where I am today. Especially not him." Kel said a little defensively when Dix's comment stuck a little too far into the real truth of matters. "Also, I've branched off into cardiology, too, and that's an even more unrelated area than being some office bound, leather chair to couch side shrink." Dix's frosted eyebrows rose in amazement. "Oh? I'd say in that way, you and your father are in an area a little closer together my fine, fretting friend. You both deal with matters of the heart. Only yours deals with just the physical aspects of things. You fix the body whereas he fixes the mind. Quite a complimentary pair to have in one family, in my book. You should team up together, Kel. Even if just to compare professional notes or something. Might be a way for you two to work out differences." she said gently, handing Dr. Brackett a cup of coffee. "We are. I have dinner with him once a month." "Oh, really." Dix said, throwing disbelieving doe eyes at Kel. "There's twelve months in a year, Kel. And I distinctly remember setting up reservations at Mannie's for you and your father only twice total, since this time last year.." Kel's chin twitched. "I've been busy.." "Yeah, well so have I. " Dix countered. "Although in my case, I haven't been too busy to see family I care about, to drift apart from again,due to carelessness." From anyone else, Dixie's remark would earn a scathing sharp reply. But Kel and Dix were the best of friends, been old flames even, at one time. And what she said and felt, was still very very important to him. "You .....really think so?" he said, studying his hands and rubbing absently at their surgical dryness. Dix shoved a jar of hand cream at him across the lounge table. "I know so. I've seen you two cross by my desk everyday. Brent to his office on the ninth floor and you to yours. I can't believe you two even work in the same hospital. He could be in Greece for all the contact I've seen. I can read the whole state of affairs between you two just by the degree of scowling on your faces. You in particular, have a certain cheek twitch that pops up whenever you think of your father.." "I do not.." Dr. Brackett protested. "You do... Ahaa!" she cried out in triumph. "There it is again! That's seven times today already." She leaned forward, finely filed nails clicking on the formica table top. "And for me, that's a critical sign with only one treatment available in my line of thinking.......Go call him, Kel. Arrange one of those well overdue dinner dates. You both are in severe need for quality father/son family time.....Oh,.. Just one thing though.." Kel's face was sheepish as he used the cream Dixie had given him briskly to ease his chapped aching hands. "And what's that, Dix?" "Promise me you'll both leave your white doctor coats at home.." --------- --------- --------- The phone rang a third time in his ear. By then Kel's cheek twitch had traveled up to his hairline. He groaned as the anxiety reached deeply under his skin. ::Come on. Pick up already..:: Finally... "Hello. Brent Brackett speaking.." "Dad?" A pause. ."Is...everything all right down there son? I didn't hear a disaster call go out.." Brent asked. "No. no no.. Everything's fine. Quiet night in fact. So far, only one station is out on a run. Station 51's." and he tried to sound natural as he laughed. "I....just wanted to say I'm sorry for missing our last dinner plans in May. I'd ...like to make it up to you.." |
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