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Humming contentedly, Dusty made sure his run down operation looked as finely raked and pristine as any other racing barn's on the row. He set his final touch by grabbing some field clover from the patch of weeds under the barn's leaky hose faucet and jauntily shoved the yellow blooms into a dusty vase on top of the nearly empty, barely regulation, first aid kit he had hanging next to his barn office door. As an afterthought, he blew the dust off the cock angled giant sized "Warning, extreme fire risk. No smoking." sign that was in bilingual english and spanish anchored on the wall, and straightened it out on its nail. Smiling, Dusty polished it to a high shine with his black twill jacket's sleeve. He went inside to the silty desk to call Swale's owners with a less than glowing report on the horse's condition. What Dusty did not know, was that Jose' had circumvented any further crooked race deception by his desperate plea for help to a certain, very special, horse loving, firefighter paramedic. -------------------------------------------------------- "Nope.." "Oh come on, Cap!" Johnny insisted. "Just look at Swale's pedigree! Walter Farley shoved a racing form into my back pocket while we were loading Jose' up and now I got all his juicy statistics right here.." he said, drawing out a sandy white booklet of the daily races from where he had shoved it in his belt. "Son to Native Dancer, full brother to Citation himself.. Man, when Swale gets his wind back enough to run ten furlongs again, ..we'll all be RICH !" Hank Stanley ignored his paramedic's tirade and instead took offense at the fine track dirt festooning the floor and table top near him. "Gage, I said no. Now go grab a towel and a broom and go clean this up!" he said shoving back in his kitchen chair and away from all reminders of their morning rescue call. Hank's agitated hands continued to pet Henry the hound dog's back harder and harder absently, until a loud moan of protest floated up from the lazy form sprawled across Cap's lap. "Sorry, Henry. One of my supposedly polished firefighting men is being a bonafide twit again. You know how that irritates the snot outta me... Gage, about Swale; that's IF he gets his wind back, not when. To me, that colt looked pretty much three of four hooves boots up into a grave this morning." "Kelly and Stoker reversed that, Cap, with their wash down. He came outta heatstroke just like that.." and Gage snapped his fingers in the air derisively. "I don't care. Once a horse does down like that, that trainer, what's his name again? Ah, yes, Walter Farley, told me it's five times harder to get him back up onto his feet and into racing condition again!" Hank countered with a slap of his hand on the table. "Count me OUT. Beside, I'm NOT a horse racing fan. Didn't you catch onto any of my attitude towards that this morning, pally?" Johnny sputtered ineffectual arguments. Chet smiled and bit his lip in predatory fashion as Johnny Gage clammed up and did what his captain told him to do. But kernels of Johnny's sales pitch had already sprouted under his irish skin and he said. "Cap.. I really think this is an opportunity of a life time. Even for me. And you know how picky I can get about taking on weird deals." "This is not a weird deal.." Johnny glared at him through pursed lips. "Sure it is.." Marco Lopez piped up. "I mean, just how many firehouses do you know of who get themselves reined into buying a broken down racehorse.." "He's not broken down.." Johnny hissed at Lopez. "He's still got four good legs on him." "Yeah? You're forgetting one tiny detail there, Gage." Cap said levelly firm with a finger pointing right at his man's nose. "Add THIS fact to his excellent boneleg status. Swale's got one very, very sun cooked BRAIN!" Cap said, drawing crazy circles around his ear for emphasis. He rose to his feet, shoving away the track racing form. "This is the end of this particular discussion with me! Come on, Henry.. Let's go hide in the recliner to get away from these kooks.. " Then he took a breath. |
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"You know.. I should order ya ALL to Rampart for a checkup. Looks like Swale's not the only one who got in a little too much sun today." Cap hefted up the ample Henry into his arms and stood above the recliner where Mike Stoker was reading behind a newspaper. Cap cleared his throat and Stoker looked absently up to see who it was. He hastily vacated the coveted spot in a pico when he saw Cap's expression. Hank settled in and snatched the section Stoker had been reading for good measure, too. Cap draped Henry onto his lap for maximum comfort and prompted buried himself into the sports page. Mike Stoker thought about getting his paper back but decided that superior rank ruled. He sighed and took up his usual place at the kitchen table. Despite things, ten minutes later, Gage had everyone's signature on the stay of execution papers for Swale, except Roy's and Cap's. ::I'm just going to haveta work on those two. Until then, Swale can stay at my place. Just as soon as the vet clears him for travel.:: Johnny thought to himself with a pleased thrill. --------------------------------------------------- Brent Brackett and his wife Anna Rose found their son, Kel Brackett, lurking in the nurse's coffee lounge. Dixie McCall was with him, and Doctor Morton. And they were going over Mary Kenner's private medical case. The older Bracketts barged in, infected with a healthy case of co-worker etiquette blindness, which abruptly interrupted their confidential conversation. "Oh, there you are, my dear.." Anna Rose said to Dixie, bending down to leave a kiss on the mortified head nurse's cheek. "I hope you haven't forgotten the important role that Brent and I imparted to you.." Dixie's fake smile locked in stone. "How could I, Anna Rose? I assure you, I've been thinking about it every second.." she answered truthfully. "That's good. I'll give you a call you at home tonight for your idea run downs. Kel gave me your number." Dixie's withering look at Kel made the younger Brackett hold up his hands in defense. Brent spoke on another matter, now that his wife's concerns had been voiced first. " Kel, I found your rescue base station out there in the hall simply astounding! I must learn more about your emergency department. That's, uh. If Dixie allows me. I can't believe I've been working here for six years without knowing how it all works." he said incredulously. Kel cracked a smile. "I'm sure that my best intern, Mike Morton, here would be more than happy to take you on clinical tours, dad, today and all through the next week." Morton choked on his donut he had been eating with gusto. Dixie slapped him on the back to get him over it before things got out of hand. "You all right there, Mike?" Kel said. "Yeah, *cough* I'm fine, just.. fine. Thanks, Dix." Mike Morton took the napkin he had used and crumpled it up onto his paper plate. "Look uh, Kel, are you sure that Joe Early wouldn't make a better tour guide for your parents? I mean he's got far more experience than little ol m--" Kel shook his head slowly. "Speaking of experience, this will just be another aspect of medicine for you to learn about by catering to local dignitaries." he quipped to the delight of his mother. |
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It was Mike's turn to wear an expression that didn't match his current emotional status and Dixie felt immediate sympathy for Morton now that he was joining her in misery. She poured him an extra full coffee cup to fortify him. "I'll cover the nursing angles." then she said under her breath so only Mike could hear. "That way it'll all go that much faster.." she said from the corner of her mouth. Mike nodded his gratefulness to both the coffee and the offer. "Great..we'll get started tomor--" "This afternoon..." Kel countered with a smile.. "...this afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Brackett." Morton amended smoothly without missing a beat. To Dixie, Mike cracked the biggest toothiest doctor's professional grin that she had ever seen. ::Oh, boy. He's not happy. But, rank has its privileges. :: she thought scratching an itch on her head. She cast a dangerous calculating eye on her best friend. :: You know, I think I'll go to medical school after this, just to become a doctor so Kel won't be able to pull one over on me or my staff anymore.:: To Dixie's chagrin, Kel was obvious to her discomforture. Soon, the elder Bracketts left for a late snack to the cafeteria and talk resumed about Mary Kenner, the woman jockey. Mike said. "The ABG levels in that hand are simply perfect, Kel. She came through that immediate surgery of yours with flying colors." Kel frowned and shifted in his lounge chair, sighing. "Yeah, but that's just one of her problems solved. I'm concerned about her continued paralysis..." Mike blinked. "Why? Her x-rays are showing clear. There are no fractures anywhere along her spine. She doesn't even have disk misalignment. Seems to me that her paraplegic deficit might be temporary just due to swelling from hyperflexing her back when she landed on top of that track railing. You did tell me Roy found her hanging there." Kel answered. "Mike, you know how these things go. I've seen patients who have whole vertebrae completely shattered in two, three places who eventually get up and walk again. And then there are cases like Mary Kenner's..." and he let his comment hang in the air. A feeling of subtle depression filled the room. A few moments later, Mike's irrepressible optimism on things he knew little about gushed out. "The steroidal treatments will work for her. The anesthesiologist said he saw a few foot twitches when he was extubating her. And I believe what he saw." "Let's hope you're right.." Dixie whispered. ******************************************** From: "rampartbase" <doc51@att.net> Date: Sat, 15 Mar 2003 04:12:30 -0000 Subject: [EmergencyTheaterLive] Foiled Again! Dixie finally gave up and suggested Catalina Island. "That sounds like an interesting place." Anna Brackett said. Dix just nodded. "We can leave tomorrow. You're such a dear." Anna hugged Dix. The next day, the trio of Bracketts met at the dock for the 26 mile boat ride. They boarded with the rest of the passengers and the boat left as scheduled. Somewhere out at sea, the boat ran into trouble. One of the engines started smoking. |
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***************************** From : "JOHN ALLEN" <leoseven@msn.com> Subject :[EmergencyTheaterLive] Horses, Ferrys and Fire, Oh my! Date :Mon, 17 Mar 2003 08:36:53 +0000 This is a tandem post by John Allen <leoseven@msn.com> and Patti Keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> via live brainstorming and mutual research on the web. Dusty Schraeder exited his track camper and strode to the nearby parking lot payphone under the row of palm trees over looking his horse barn. ::Man, this sure ain't San Antonio, Texas. Hotter than grits on a griddle today. I hate Californ-I-A. With a passion.:: He dialed a number, as he slapped on expensive aftershave. "Artie? It's done. And it looks like Jose Rivero's on the outlist for three months, too. You owe me more for that." Dusty listened as the mafia man's voice warbled in his ear for a moment. "No, man. I'm through. There's enough police sniffing around my operation as it is..You want another horse killed do it yourself. I've got a boat to catch this afternoon." And he slammed down the phone receiver in irritation. "I hate Italians. They should stick to drinking bad wine and twirling pasta on their spoons!" ------------------------------------------------------ Kel Brackett and Anna Rose stood by the railing of the Windjammer Ferry bound for Catalina Island. "Oh, Kel. Remind me to thank Dixie for this. I don't think we've been to this island all the time you were growing up." Anna Rose sighed, breathing in the rich salt tanged air ruffling her auburn hair. Kel and Brent exchanged a look of confidential tolerance at Mrs. Brackett, intensely glad that a destination for their vacation had finally taken shape. Brent drew both Kel and Anna Rose under both arms in an uncharacteristic show of guarded affection, and said. "I'm glad we can get together for this. Glad that d*mned snowstorm changed our minds.. I could get used to trips like this.." Kel smiled. "Dix has a knack for landing ANYone on their feet." "Even us?" Brent quipped. "Apparently, even us." Anna Rose beamed at Brent and Kel widely and said. "Let's go get some champagne to celebrate. Shall we?" "Celebrate what, mom?" Kel asked wrapping her sky blue sweater more tightly around her to stave off the brisk seabreeze coming from the south. She could just see the wild beach of the graceful desert island less than a quarter mile away from them. "You have to ask? Isn't it obvious?" Anna Rose asked in return peering up at her taller son. Brent chuckled deep in his throat and adjusted his white golfer's hat more firmly onto his head. "Anna Rose, leave off. Kelly's here to unwind. No surgical wards, no Dixie to come calling with medical matters, no Rampart. He's finally on foreign territory for the first time in years. In more ways than one." Kel grunted, but deigned to comment. He sighed grandly and said. "I sure am. But I'm sure glad I'm here. Listen, hang around for a few minutes. I'm going to go get those drinks for us. Be right back.." Anna Rose and Brent Brackett watched him bound up the deck stairway to the upper level and the open air bar above, with a new energy she had never noticed before. Seabirds fluttered down over their heads and glowed in the azure sky, only increasing the Bracketts sense of contentment and peace. But then, Anna Rose's nose crinkled suddenly in distain. "Dearest, do you smell that?" "Smell what?" ----------------------------------------- On the Windjammer's bridge, the captain's internal phone rang. "This is the Bridge.." ##Sir.. we have a problem...## "Specify.." The engineer below decks coughed once and lifted the receiver from his mouth and shouted. "Get more coolant on that port turbine! She's still running too hot!!" then he thought angrily. The ferry engineer saved a few choice mental words for the Santa Anita track trainer and entrepreneur and spit sharply onto the metal grating beneath his feet. :: D*mn Dusty Schraeder for cutting our budget spending on transport servicing. Shoulda hauled her up to dry dock months ago for a complete overhaul. When I get to shore again, I'm gonna...:: BOOM!! The Windjammer shuddered as the sudden engine explosion beneath her passenger crowded decks shifted in massive concussion. The Captain on the bridge shouted. "Mr. Margolin! Get down there and see how badly we've been damaged!" "Aye, sir.." said the ferry's first officer, and he gestured to two fellow officers to follow him down below decks to the engine room. The ferry captain's right hand nestled onto a little used switch on his natical tactical board and he pulled it. The universal mariner's distress call. ------------------------------------ |
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Kel was sent sprawling off his bar stool where he sat waiting for his order of champagne for three. He was thrown with terrific force into the deck plating and the impact made him bite his tongue badly. In wracking pain and bleeding copiously from his mouth, Dr. Brackett lifted his head as he saw smoke billowing from the rear end of the ferry. A careless wind sent a cloud of suffocating bad air into the bar deck, and visibility shrank down to nil in seconds. "Everybody, drop down on the deck! There's clear air down here!" ::Mom, dad. Oh, be safe..:: he thought. Kel helped one shaken young woman, dazed from where her head had impacted a fallen table, to her feet and together, they fled towards the direction of the stairs they could barely see and back into daylight. ::What the h*ll happened down there?:: In the murk he spied a big Texan man, lolling on the deck, semi conscious, with a black cowboy hat covering his face. "Hey, mister! You ok?" Kel asked the fallen man, shoving the crushed hat away. He could see a large bruise on his head. ::Might be a concussion.:: he reasoned. Dusty Schraeder moaned and opened his eyes under Kel's ministrations. "Oww.. *cough* what in tarnation is going on?!" "There's been an explosion below decks. We gotta get outta here. This smoke's getting thicker." Dr. Brackett said. "I'm a doctor and there may be more injured people outside. Can you stand?" "Can a racehorse run?" Dusty said. "Fine. Let's move out." Kel ordered. He hefted the southern man to his feet and pointed him in the direction to where he knew the stairs were. ----------------------------------------------- |
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L.A. Dispatcher Sam Lanier coordinated the data he was receiving from the Coast Guard Communications Network and decided a course of action to handle the bounding casualty estimates streaming through his terminal from the Harbor Master on Duty. Then he toggled out the tones. A long string of call signs and finally the fire disaster LCR's rang out across the county's telecom relay system and into the firehouses linked to it. ## Station 110, Waterboat 245, Battalion 14, Coast Guard 9, Helicopter 8, Station 51, Marina Cutter 27, Lifeguard 16. Ferry fire. One mile off Catalina Island. All fire units respond to LAX heliport. Time out, 11: 45.## Cap sidled out from under Henry and shot to his feet. "Let's go. Move it out.." "Sounds like a bad one.." Chet mumbled as he ran to the rig and hurriedly pulled on his turnout gear. "But why call out the engine, too? Gage and DeSoto usually get the ocean runs." " It's a catastrophic all call, Kelly. Remember those tones. This must be a grade four multiple casualty for us to respond as well." Cap said, climbing aboard the Ward. Stoker and the others filed into place and soon, the station rolled out. On the way, Johnny cut the tension by talking of other matters. "Hey, Roy, guess what?" Roy, deep into watching traffic as they sped towards the airport, barely afforded Gage a glance as he grunted, "Hmm?" "Wanna play altruistic and kill two birds with one stone?" "Whatdiya mean?" Roy said, gripping the steering wheel and speaking loudly over the wailing siren above their heads. Johnny tightened the strap on his helmet and smiled. "Well, first thing. We should go ahead and buy Swale. You heard Crockett. I just may have agreed to a verbal shift of ownership with Jose Rivero the jockey.." "What do you mean we?" Roy said frankly. "I wasn't in on that little deal you two struck up, now was I? I'm washing my hands clean of that so you can just forget it. Joanne would never forgive me if I tapped into what little savings we have." |
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