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From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Sunday, April 21, 2021 946 PM
Subject: Pinned
The O2 sensor on the front of Captain Stone's
jacket began to flash. "Yep." he
muttered, tapping the refresh button on the side of the unit to get
a reading with
a current numerical value displaying. He broadcast on H.T. "All. We don't have
to
worry about ground fire leaping the river. We're at six percent oxygen."
The power plant engineer
angled his head. "Maybe from the outside. But
electricity doesn't use any oxygen to move around,
Captain. The risks in here
remain." shared Scott Mason. "Water's more than enough of an adequate
conduit.
Keep your eyes peeled on where you see water dripping. That's where
pooling power might be hot with
overflowing arc and connected to the
transformer grid out in the yard. Anything wet might be live
with current."
Stone frowned. "How do we figure out which spots are dangerous then?"
"Throw
a coin or something metal where it's puddling. You'll find out really quick
what to avoid." replied
the engineer. He slapped down a jar full of pennies onto
a table that he had pulled out of an equipment
locker. "Use these."
Ben chuckled through his face plate. "Thanks. That's one trick we're going
to
adopt. I'll recommend it to the chief next meeting to add to our fire fighting
manual." he joked.
Captain Stone stuffed in a few dollars from his trouser pockets, and then
scooped out a couple
of handfuls of change to pass around.
"Lunch money?" Chet quipped when Stone handed him some
coins a few
minutes later.
"Zap checkers." Ben told him. "Engineer says they'll jump if they
hit any juice."
he grinned.
"I'll make a wish first." Kelly promised.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Craig Brice and Roy DeSoto closed the doors of the ambulance after seeing
the last firefighter
who needed follow up at Rampart for heat exposure.
Brice slapped the back of the Mayfair and the
stand by EMT inside waved
back at him, turning his head to the driver to shout that they could begin
transport.
The rig pulled away and onto the road leading to the freeway.
"Think he'll be
admitted?" Roy asked Craig.
"Nah. You know us firefighters, Mr. DeSoto. If we're not knocked off
of our feet.."
Brice replied.
"...we keep on working." DeSoto sighed. "Sometimes I think our
inherent stubborness
in this job probably leads us into risking an early demise."
"Yeah, but
we're having fun." Captain Stanley coughed, clearing some steam out
of his face mask.
"We do
what we love." Mike Stoker agreed. "But I think this summer's fire has
shown a little too much love
back, don't you think?" he asked Roy.
DeSoto nodded as he put away their medical gear back into
their cases. "Yep.
He was number four to go in today."
"It's demoralizing." Brice nodded.
"We know we can beat it. But the fire's
saying, 'Not yet' at every stage of the game."
Stanley
added encouragement. "It'll be done by noon tomorrow." he said. "Death
by sea waves."
"And
how many weeks of clean up duty afterwards are we going to get?" Brice
wondered.
"That depends
on the rain." Mike Stoker replied.
Stanley was frank. "We'll have clean up around our regular
calls until this
state of emergency is lifted. Good old city protocols are going to feel normal
again
soon. The chief saw the weather forecast this morning. It's good news."
"Showers by six." Brice
shared.
"Ahhh." sighed DeSoto, stretching the kinks out of his back from the weight of his
air
bottle that was keeping him breathing in the vacuum that was seeping in
around them. "I will not complain
about slipping in a little mud. Bring it on."
The gang began to relax guardedly, turning to watch
the way the Cistern Fire
was going to take on its approach to the sea.
Hank checked in with
the rest of his men. "Station 51 to Station 8. Status report."
he transmitted on their crew to crew
band.
Benjamin replied. ##The fire's mid leap. Over us now. Our position's solid.##
Stone
told his fellow captain. ##Your men are fortified and handling the
assignment as planned.##
"10-4."
copied Stanley, eyeballing the writhing mass of pure plasma boiling
over the power plant on a cushion
of nothing.
"Yikes." Mike retorted. "I'm seeing extreme ball fire behavior. And... there
goes
the linear ground travel front. It's all spontaneous combustion now."
"Steel is fabulous, Stoker."
Stanley reassured. "They aren't going to cook
in there. It takes too much heat to melt that kind of
metal. And there's no
direct contact being made. The whole conflagration's floating in mid air
on
top of that vacuum layer."
"I wish I had a camera to film this!" Mike said, frustrated. "We could
use
it for training."
"There'll be more fires, Mike." Hank said. "This one's just being a boss.
We've been left no time to play."
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"He's too
young to play, Johnny." Coolidge teased the paramedic at
the vet clinic.
"I know, I know.
I'm just so happy that I-- Well, I guess I just don't know
what to do with myself, Doc." Gage beamed.
"Puppies can be the best medicine for a broken heart, but are you sure
you want to go through
with it?" the vet asked Johnny.
"Huh? Through with what?" he replied, distracted and in love.
"The adoption agreement... It requires vaccines, boosters, check ups,
and eventual neutering as
part of the agreement with the county pound."
Johnny didn't look away from his eye lock on Grit's
tiny, sleepy face.
"I'll pay anything, Doc. Anything for this little guy."
Patty Burns eyeballed
the mother setter, who was nursing her other five
puppies under sedation, so she could rest. "Do you
think they're all
adoptable?" she asked Les and Dave, who were filling out their run sheets
and
grabbing supplies to restock the trucks.
Taylor smiled. "We've got a few months yet before the
pound has to make
a decision on this family."
"I'll pay for their care, too." Gage said quickly.
Doc Coolidge held up a pudgy finger. "I'll take not one red cent, Mr.
Gage. I do twenty free
cases a year as a matter of principle, on my
dime. She and her brood, are number twelve on the roster
so far. Stick
with this one puppy, Johnny. One on your ranch, is plenty. That way,
little Grit
can have a better chance to become a one man dog, instead
of being tempted into developing into
a nomad,.. like Boot did."
"Boot lived a good life." Johnny protested. "As a wanderer."
"That's
only because he was lucky enough to bond with half a
dozen fire station crews. Most nomads don't do
so well." Doc shared.
"And then we get them." Gordon sighed.
"Is she a nomad?" Gage wondered,
angling a head at the mother dog.
"Hmmm." thought the vet. "She's in very good condition for having
been
at an abandoned campsite in the middle of a forest fire. She's most
likely a run away pet,
whose owners decided not to spay, for whatever
reason. That's probably why she ran away. She probably
found herself
love struck one night and began searching for the nearest available
nomad. Sometimes,
that's all it takes to get into her situation."
Johnny's face flattened at the thought. "Grit
will get fixed. He'll be
no one's cast off. And... thanks for the no bill on him."
"You're
welcome. With her sweet temperment, and dedication to her
puppies, this mama deserved a second chance.
She's passed on
some of that class to Grit for sure." Doc grinned.
Patty Burns thought ahead,
thinking along the same lines that she
could see tracking across Johnny's face. "Mr. Gage, we could
hold
a puppy adoption raffle at the dedication memorial fund raiser that I
heard Dixie McCall mention
last month."
"At the Cistern Park? That's a great idea!" Dave Gordon said,
snapping his fingers
excitedly. "With enough people showing up,
I'll bet even Mama there could find a new home."
"When
is it?" Doc asked. "I could preach about their solid health
and personalities in person."
"September
9th." Gage answered.
"I'll be there." Coolidge promised.
Grit woke up fully then, and began
yowling loudly for his dinner, his
shut eyes pinching in new hunger.
The setter stood up, her
five dangling young still hanging onto her teats,
until Patty encouraged her to lay back down again
onto the lamb's
wool mat, before they fell off.
Doc scooped up Grit, his oxygen feed at all,
and placed him onto a
nipple with brothers and sisters on either side to help keep him
warm. "Eat
up, Grit. Sounds like you've got an exciting life ahead of
you as a firefighter paramedic's dog. There's
a good boy."
That just made Gage's eyes water up even more.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dixie McCall got off the phone with Patty Burns. She looked up at Kel
Brackett, who was writing
on a chart at the head nurse's emergency
department desk. "Now that's a fabulous idea right there."
she sighed,
returning the receiver of the black phone to its cradle on the wall.
"Best one I've
heard all summer." She sighed at him.
"What, Dix?" the dark haired physician wondered.
"Using
Boot's internment at the Cistern Park Memorial fund drive
to peddle some pound puppies." she grinned,
sipping her coffee
craftily.
"Puppies?!" Kel oggled, looking up from his pencil work. "Where
did
you gals drum up some of those?"
"Carson Shelter pound. It seems our favorite paramedic
made a very
recent four footed save. An irish setter and her new family."
"Hmmm." Brackett
thought out loud. "I heard Gage was running around
with a dog catcher's net recently, from Dr. Morton.
Just how are we
involved in all of this?" he asked, casting a hand back and forth between
them.
"We can't have dogs where we live, remember?" he reminded.
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"No, but you are an excellent BBQ griller. I've volunteered us, to be
potato roaster and rib broiler
only, at the event." she promised.
Kel narrowed his eyes in gentle tolerance. "What's Joe going
to be
doing?"
"He's the bartender."
"And Mike?"
"He's one of the band." Dixie
said, grinning cheekily, amused at
Brackett uncovering another one of her ploys for social activity
in
their super busy lives.
Dr. Brackett laughed full out. "I wonder what he plays."
"Saxophone."
came Dr. Morton's brisk voice as he walked in on
them from handling a call in the base station. "That
was Squad 51.
They're sending an EMT in with a firefighter for a check up.
Apparently, he got
a little warm in an airless zone."
"Was he wearing his scba?"
"Yes."
"Then we won't
have to deal with any hypoxia issues on top of that
heat exhaustion." Kel said, reading the notes
Mike had taken down
from his notebook. "This doesn't look bad for vital signs."
"DeSoto didn't
feel like he warranted an I.V. line." Dr. Morton added.
"I'll set up Two." offered Miss McCall,
heading out into the hall.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"How are we doing, Scott?" Firefighter Smith joked, holding the top
heavy, air bottled engineer
steady by the shoulders as he walked
back and forth along the power panels, making adjustments to
power flows or bypassing compromised ones. "Is everybody
going to enjoy cold beer tonight out there?"
"How do you guys fight fires in these things?" panted Mason, hefting
up his self contained breathing
apparatus farther up onto
his shoulders to minimize its drag on his slender frame.
Shull's
eyes twinkled through his mask. "We find firefighters built
like line backers to compensate. These
fifty pound air bottles are
just for starters. We've also got hose lines, ladders and tools to haul
around."
Scott immediately looked sheepish for complaining. "I forgot you
guys sometimes carry
people, too."
"In a pico. So.... can we save everybody's beer tonight? Or is it going
to go
warm?" Fireman Smith asked again.
"Fridgidares are going to remain frigid." Scott smiled. "I'm
not seeing
anything here that shows that any of the major outgoing transformer
towers are being
effected by the fire. It's looking good."
Captain Stone overheard that. "What can change that?"
"Uhhhh. A burning tree landing on critical power lines leaving the island?
Our bulk electricity's
never fully set in a transit mode, until it gets
off the island and into the pole controlled conduits
that will carry it out
to customers."
"Okay." The captain thought out loud. "Do you have a
map of vegetation
around those relays?"
Mason nodded. "Yeah, over there on that wall in the
main conference room.
See it?" he pointed, one eye still roaming over his bouncing readouts.
"We'll
take a look." Ben said.
Firefighter Duncan aimed a flashlight on their route across the emergency
lit control chamber. "Oh, man." he said as soon as he saw the map. "They're
all lodgepole pines."
Ben's face fell into worry. "And they're going to topple like bowling pins." he groaned.
He burst
into action, jumping onto his radio channel. "Gang, we've got some
trees to cut down a.s.a.p.! Form
up!"
"Just how old is this power plant anyway?" Duncan wondered. "Any forest ranger
should
have told them about the fire risks with that kind of landscaping." he
said, slapping a glove onto
the map's glass face.
"From the 1950s." Stone replied. "We never used to have as many wildfires
back
then, as we do now. Most blazes now days, people cause."
"Case and point." Duncan grumbled
as they hustled out to the fire engine for a
couple of chain saws.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Dang.. We have to dance in all of that?" Meyers inclined his helmet at the sparks
popping up
on the lawn in the open places in between the pine trees that had
been mentally marked, for demise.
"We've done it before." Marco Lopez shrugged. "In coreless boots and standing
on rubber tarps.
Sure." he said good naturedly to cheer up his Station Eight partner.
"It'll be like avoiding white
phosphorous pockets at jet liner crashes." he said.
"We can see those." grumbled Meyers, hissing
some air out of his mouth valve
in annoyance.
"That's why we're going to use these." Engineer
Mason said, pacing up to them
with a soggy box full of G.E. lightbulbs.
"You're kidding." Marco
deadpanned. "What if one's a dud?"
"We toss down another one, and keep going, until it lights
up in the water or until
we can get this meter to test the ground." Scott told them. "Here." he said,
shoving
the lightbulbs and the electrical reader probe rod at them quickly. "I've got to
get back
over there."
Stone eyed his dubious men. "This is the fastest way. We can't pull Scott away
from
what he's doing, to go get us more of these readers from the utility trucks parked
in their bay. He
doesn't have those keys, or access to them." Ben shared. "Mason
had to improvise."
Scott grew
firm at the firefighters' reluctant faces. "G.E.'s reliable. They've got
good bulbs. I've been on
their testing lines." said the engineer. "Stay safe out there,
fellas." he replied. "I won't let any
arc near ya." he promised.
"Let's go!" Ben hollered out at Meyers and Lopez.
He tried, and
succeeded in preventing any nervousness from coloring his voice.
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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Thursday, December 21, 2023 1:18 PM
Subject: Prep
Chet Kelly hurried in Captain Stone's
wake as they made their way to the side of
the power plant garage that had the stand of offending
overgrown pine trees.
Ben eyed up Kelly. "Why is it that wildfires move towards the thickest
trees?"
he hissed, sucking in a slow breath on his scba's air supply.
"So we firefighters can
become lumberjacks, Cap? I guess our door chopping
skills need brushing up."
"Is that a pun,
Kelly?" Stone oggled, jerking a gloved thumb over his shoulder
as a prompt.
:Uh, yes, sir.
Joking under pressure just a bit. As if the hot seat's not hot enough."
Next to him, Marco snorted,
and flipped his charged hose safety line over
a parking curb. "At least, out here, there are no ceilings
to tear down."
"Brownie points!"Chet celebrated, swiping soot off of his faceplate.
Beside
them, their assigned air bottled plant worker guide said, "This grove has
eleven trees. There's a
power tools shed around the corner."
"Time, nine minutes three." Stone said, eyeing his watch
and their regulators
volume dial. "Chainsaws won't work in oxygenless air like this. Axes will do,
gentlemen."
Their power plant guide eyed them up speculatively. "They're young trees.
Maybe
twenty eight years old. Not as dense of sap wood for pines as they
could have been." The fire crew
were now well inside the electric yard,
so he reported their progress to the main control room over
his radio.
Scott Mason shared his update, too. ##Ramping down the piles, Ross. ##
he said to
his man with the firefighters. The eerie hum from the forest of
high power towers lessened to a low
rumble they couldn't hear but could feel
on their skin through their clothes.
"God I hope
we can save this transformer station. " said Ross, the worker.
Stone smiled at him. "We can if
the sparks get no fuel." he encouraged brightly.
He tossed a handful of nickles and a light bulb out
towards the nearest tree.
No bulb glow appeared nor did any shaking plasma erupt from the wet grass
Marco had hose dampened liberally.
"Will this E.M. field effect our H.T.s?" Chet asked, pulling
out his axe from
his turnout's chest carry strap.
"Not so long as there's no static electricity
build up on the ground. No chance of
that now. Soil's been throughly soaked. There's no more magnetism.
It would be
pretty hard to short anything through the radio casing in these plastic bags."
Stone
replied, hefting up his handy talkie in emphasis.
A deep roar rose, and slowly died away, from
the largest fire's ridge across the
river from their location. The firefighters and the plant tech
watching them,
froze at the sight.
A fire devil twisted up hundreds of feet slowly into the
lurid air at the crest
of the burning hill.
Captain Stone let out his breath and reassured
Ross. "That's just super heat,
not a flash over. Oxygen's too thin to flare into sheets and balls
now. Let's
get to work!"
Quickly, Kelly and Stone made short work of the first tree, chopping
it down. They
dragged, then rolled it into the river. "Let's clear the rest of these after our buddy
here becomes the tree current checker." Ben grinned, leaning into Chet's face.
Soon, on the
ninth tree, the loose change exploded upon contact, making
the four flinch as steam rose from the
powered patch of lawn.
Ross chuckled. "Kill number eight, Scott." he transmitted to Mason on H.T.
##Done.## said his supervisor.
A G.E. lightbulb, thrown into the same spot, impacted and tumbled
to a dark standstill.
Chet crowed his relief at the disappearance of the hidden hazard. "Seeing
is
understanding what you're looking at, boys!"
"Thank you, boss!" Ross replied to Scott Mason,
waving at a yellow lit, fish eye camera
nearest to them, mounted far above their heads, on the aerial
catwalk .
Chet bounced on his boots on top of their dry tarp path that they were laying down
as they went. "Think we can roast a few marshmallows in between trees, Cap?" begged
Kelly. "My sweet
tooth's kicking in."
"That's adrenalin." admonished Marco to his station mate. "Just because you
can,
doesn't mean you should." he said, unsuccessfully fighting a smile.
Stone nodded in agreement.
"When we get back to the big house." he promised, beginning
to bite his blade into the trunk of the
safety cleared pine tree. "I'll personally fire up
the BBQ myself, for all of us."
Ross shivered,
bringing out his nervous caution. "Just in case, guys. About ground gradients?
Turn 180 degrees
around immediately, if you feel tingling in legs or lower torso and hop
directly away from that spot,
on one foot or feet together in a shuffled leap, like hopscotch,
when you were kids. That building
differential potential will break, and you won't get zapped."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Roy DeSoto and Craig Brice looked up from the triage area as a triple blat from the
sentry engine
warned a heads up. DeSoto's mouth fell open. "That's got to be burning
300 feet high." he fretted,
as they both turned around and looked back at the Mine Fire.
The fire tornado was now leaning over
the river power plant.
"Yeah, but no O2." Craig analyzed. "Only the stuff boiling off from the
river water at
the base."
A sharp wind sucked into their backs, as air rushed past them to
mix with the rising column
of red flames.
"How are they doing down there?" Brice asked nearby
Battalion Seven.
"They're working on those risky trees and brush now. I've offloaded another dozen
air bottles for their use. If they need an evac, I've got a Coast Guard inflatable
with an electric
trolling motor on a fresh air feed, that can sweep in to pick all of
them up, in minutes. They're
moored at the power plant dock on stand by, with
a couple of frogmen. Underwater will be our shelter
of last resort for this assignment."
said the white helmeted chief.
"Fun.." Craig murmured
sarcastically. "But a good plan, sir."
Roy rumbled, restless with worry for the firefighters working
down below in the power plant
a half mile away. "I'm so sick of this fire."
"Aren't we all."
Battalion smiled grimly from his command table next to Squad 51.
"Sorry, chief." DeSoto said,
lowering his gaze.
"Nothing to be sorry about. It's the plain ass truth, DeSoto. It's been one
hell
of a long summer fire so far. But the end's in sight. Eight months have
been enough. Met
has posted thunderstorm warnings for six o'clock. A hefty squall will
meet this fire's leading edge
on the beach and it's gonna die." he snarled,
uncharacteristically. "We're all tired beyond belief.
Water always wins in the end, boys.
Hang tough."
"Yes, sir.." Brice and Roy replied turning
their attention back to their triage equipment
inventory sheets.
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Twenty eight minutes
later, Captain Stone, Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez completed
their task in clearing the hot yard of
trees and brush on their river island.
The team hurried back into the shelter of the main power
plant.
Whomp! went the sound of raw fire as a great wall of it breached over the river using
the
beginning of the approaching rain storm's wind.
"Whooo!" Stone guffawed, as he slammed the outer
steel door behind them as
they hustled inside, into the control room. "Just in time! There's nothing
left
outside to burn now. We're safe, the pilings are gonna be fine. There's
not enough heat
at the bottom of these fire tendrils blasting by to ignite
our metal parts."
"What about the
power lines?" Marco wanted to know.
Scott Mason shrugged. "They handle fire balls during power
surges that migrate down
wire all the time. And that kind of plasma is 1000 times hotter than regular
fire. We're
all good. Thank you, Captain, gentlemen, for sticking your necks out for just a building.
I'm truly grateful.. Really. From the bottom of my--" the man's face contorted, as
he clutched his
chest, suddenly gurgling. His face began to change bad colors.
Scott pitched forward like a ragdoll
into Stone, Marco and Chet's arms.
"Scott?!" Captain Stone cried, as they lowered him, mask,
airbottle and all, onto the floor.
They swiftly checked him out.
"Damn it!" Ben swore.
"Is it a dry bottle?" Chet asked tightly, as Marco rushed to grab a fresh one from the pile
stacked
on the control console.
"Don't know. But I've got a pulse." Ben replied, tearing off a glove and
feeling at Mason's
coratid artery in his neck.
"Is he breathing?" Lopez said, switching out
the supervisor's air bottle for the new one in
seconds. "This is on and in full flow."
"Yes."
Kelly answered, resting both of his hands on the man's abdomen and chest.
"Why is he out cold?"
Stone demanded fiercely. "His mask's seal is perfectly fine."
"An M.I.?"
"No way of knowing
at this point." replied Cap.
He got on his radio to Triage in an instantaneous priority hail. "Station
Eight to
Battalion 7. We've got a civilian down in no air conditions. We need a paramedic
on the
line a.s.a.p.!"
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From: patti keiper
Sent: Monday, January
1, 2024 2:26 PM
Subject: From Here To The Ocean
Johnny Gage, Dave Gordon, Patty Burns and
Les Taylor were at Rampart.
They came out of Treatment Room One after getting a County policy
requested
medical exam. This was following their close call escape from
the Cistern fire that they had survived,
along with their rescued dogs.
Johnny eyed up his three animal control partners. "Oh, that was
tough,
leaving him at the Doc's. This is not my first dog, but he is definitely the
youngest.
Is it possible? I felt like we were becoming friends without
even speaking."
"Now that's a
born bond. It really does happen." Patty Burns smirked.
"Good for you."
"Grit's such a fighter,
Mr. Gage." Dave grinned. "I've never seen a puppy who
scrapped so hard, trying to reach the milk
bank." he laughed. "Your ranch will
be the perfect home for him."
The vet secretary nodded
in agreement, taking off her uniform jacket.
"Coolidge knows what he's doing. I'm heading back now.
I'll call the moment
Grit's out of critical status, Johnny." Miss Burns said. "I'm grateful, guys.
You gave me the chance to run around in your bonafide, all grown up, dog
catcher boots. That was
a thrill of a lifetime! I'll ride along again. If you ask
me nicely. Who knows? Maybe I'll get to
meet a city trapped puma in person
one day."
"One tiger was enough!" Taylor scoffed at her,
exasperated. "I'd rather rescue
more pygmy goats belonging to sweet little girls."
Gordon
crowed at the memory.
"Les, that circus retiree park is long gone. The big cat risk factor is way
down
these days." Gordon glanced at Burns. "Need a lift?"
"Nah, I'll swing a cab. Coolidge
gave me a fiver before we left."
Patty was already looking at her watch that she used to keep ahead
of her
client and patient work schedule. "Tour over. Back to the grind.."
she mumbled. "I wouldn't
have it any other way." she smiled at them.
All three men waved goodbye to her as she left down
the hall.
Then the paramedic and animal control officers lined up to take turns at the best,
ice cold drinking fountain. The one near the nurse's lounge.
Gage was thirsty, but he didn't take
on water. His mind was miles away as he caught
himself listening to the radio traffic from L.A. Fire
control I.C., coming from the
base station radio, above Dixie's desk. One transmission spoke of a
horse stable
incident clean up. It had caught on fire during the morning. It had been occupied
by
brood mares and had suffered a total loss of life.
"I sure hope he makes it." he whispered. "I've
lost too many dogs lately."
Les was respectful of the moment. "He's got a good chance, Mr. Gage.
There wasn't
any bad smoke. Just exposure to the elements and a lot of stress on a newborn.
Hey,
I want to thank you for riding shotgun with us. A bit more excitement that
the usual but... I guess
you're used to that as a firefighter."
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"You know, I hardly think about the dangerous parts of my job."
"You're seasoned." said Les.
"I guess. But as I get older, I find myself thinking more and more about all of the...
rockier outcomes."
Gage sighed. "Maybe I'm just tired."
"We all are. But I heard through our dispatcher, that the
fire's finally cresting over
all of the hills leading down to the beaches. That's a good thing, isn't
it?" Gordon
asked. "And.. I thought I smelled rain in the air, that wasn't the usual land sea fog."
Johnny blinked, and waved a greeting at the approaching figure of Dixie McCall
leaving the out
door cafeteria at the far end of the corridor. "My bum rib knows
there's a thunderstorm coming, so
there's that at least."
McCall beamed as she sat down on her usual stool.
"Hey, guys. How's
the pound puppy business? And Johnny,
congratulations. I hear you're a proud new dog owner."
Gage
smirked weakly, trying to rise out of his funk. "Word gets around, huh?
Maybe I should go hide. I'm
a nervous new papa. How do I grow a moustache, Dix?"
"I don't know, I'm not a fella." the head
nurse sniffed.
"You could go without sleep, like Dr. Brackett does on busy days.
He gets a five
o'clock shadow before five o'clock then."
"Damn. Already doing that. I guess I just can't get
hairy around the chin." the
paramedic replied.
"Or the legs.." Dixie joked. "If you had more,
that snake never would have
gotten through with that bite a few years ago. Coffee, gentlemen? You've
caught a rare lull in the waiting room. We should toast to it. I could hear a pin
drop ten minutes
ago."
"Nah. We might jinx it." Dave shook his head. "But thank you. We both tanked
up over
there."
Dixie's eyes flashed to Gage, seeing his parched lips.
"So what's your story? You were
in a fire, Johnny.
Dehydration's a thing." and she shoved the biggest mug of coffee she had into
his hands and filled up the cup. "Gulp it down, or you're not leaving. All I have
to do is snap my
fingers, and Kel, Joe or Mike will be on you like a ton of bricks."
"OHhhhh, ouch! Hard ball nursing.
You go, Miss McCall." said Les, mutually high
fiving Dave, at her tactic.
"Yep. He's in my
parlor." she said dryly, still steel eyed.
"And yeah, I'm cracking down. We're empty, so that makes
him top tag on my
Triage. Convince me, paramedic, on how you're still fit." she said, leaning over
her desk, staring into Johnny's sooty face with the weight of a very close
assessment.
"I
cleared the vitals set in there." Johnny shrugged, defiant.
He swiped away her hand as she tried to
peel up one of his eyelids for a second.
"Don't. I'm filthy, Dix."
"I've seen worse. By the
way, he was an intern, still learning the ropes." Dixie
countered. "He focused on breath sounds and
lack of bleeding. Renal insufficiency
due to dehydration's more subtle. And your eyes are the classic
on duty too long
shriveled prunes. Oh, that's too bad."
"No I.V.!" Gage threatened, and he
urgently began slugging his Folder's instant.
"Ugh.. you put sugar in this!"
"And cream."
Dixie shot back. "Calories, Gage." she reminded.
"You go mind them. A.S.A.P."
"I'm not hungry."
"That's false, and all psychological. I bet you couldn't throw me over your
shoulder right now.
And I'm a very small person." Dixie challenged.
Johnny squinted his eyes. "Want me to demo that?"
"No, you'd drop me." Dixie said steadily. "Go eat. It's on the house. All three
of you. It's
called mutual aid, if you recall. Shoo!"
Les and Dave grabbed Johnny by the arms. "Come on, Gage.
She means business. Let's get stuffing our guts over with."
"It's not over..." Johnny said over
his shoulder as he was dragged away.
"I'm not on your medical hold, I'm just..."
"... a cranky,
stubborn, overworked firefighter about to take some R and R."
McCall fired back. "I'm in charge,
Johnny.
This paperwork is looking for my say so. Or not." she said, holding up the
temporary chart
she had taken from Treatment One. "You decide."
Gordon's eyes paled. "Those are our check up sheets
for today. Oh, my G*d.
She can keep us here with one stroke of that pen.." And he began hauling
Johnny even faster down the hallway to the food line. "Shush it!" he told
Gage.
Dixie just
smiled, once they disappeared around the corner, and put the pen
back into the pencil holder.
Joe Early came ambling by. "What was that all about?
Were they literally running down the hallway?"
"That was Mother Hen ramped up to.. at her worst." she said, pointing to herself.
"They were
being boys after over playing with their toys." she emphasized, briskly
wiping away some dropped
soot piles that they had left on her desk while they
had been leaning on it to rest. It wafted up
into a big dark cloud between them.
Early leaped away from the desk to avoid getting fire dust
on his clean white
lab coat. "You are so good at your job. You need a raise. I'll call Admin personally."
"Good luck with that." Dixie told him, as Dr. Early grabbed his stack of charts
along with the
results on Les, Dave, Patty and Johnny, to take it to Filing.
"They're all fine... now. Go ahead,
Joe." Dixie said, jerking her chin up, with a sigh.
She got a questioning non verbal from her
attending physician.
"What?" McCall added, rolling her sometimes doe eyes.
"I never doubted
them. That was follow up on the mother hen." And he
winked as he signed off on their released patients
packet with a flourish.
Dixie blew him a raspberry. "Quit being a rooster."
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Roy DeSoto heard the
priority hail on the main Fire Tac channel. He replied
to the fire team holed in at the power plant.
"Triage head Squad 51 to Engine
8. What do you got?" Roy asked, gesturing to Craig Brice to get immediate
ears in the call.
Brice dropped a medical stock box that he'd been counting, and quickly ran
over to Roy's side.
Roy pantomimed choking to him as the information was relayed.
##Adult
male, late fifties. We've got vacuum conditions. ## Captain Stone
reported back over HT. ## Poor
breather with a pulse. Unknown etiology.
He's on manually button trigger assisted can air. Pulse
rate, 110 and thready.
Regular.## the captain said, through his scba mask.
"Can you rapid
evac? We can meet you." DeSoto asked. He signaled in the
air to cue Battalion 7 who was attending
other fire business at his incident
command table, for a request to respond.
The white helmeted
chief nodded. "51, go! Wind's shifted. It's now favorable
for vehicle use down there."
Roy
Desoto nodded affirmation and turned back to his walkie talkie.
Stone's voice returned.
##Yes
we can. Our assignment to eliminate electrical risk is complete. What's
your E.T.A., 51 ? We'll bundle
him up and wait at the north entrance to the
power plant. ## Stone promised. ## The fire left us
behind, a minute or
so ago.##
"Twelve minutes. We've been stationed on the ridge upwind of
you.
Have Chet and Marco find a utility stokes to use. We can use the squad top
to transport your
victim to field Triage." DeSoto decided.
##Who's with you?## the captain of Station 8 asked.
"Brice."
##Have him set up a size six nasopharyngeal. I don't know why he's having
airway
issues. There's yet very little color loss, to go with this unconsciousness.##
said Stone, whom Roy
knew as a paramedic before Stone became a fire
captain for Station 8. ##Our ventilations are going
in adequate.##
"Got it, Cap." said Craig over a monitoring H.T. "Roy, might be unknown COPD."
"Hank!" Battalion 7 shouted at Captain Stanley, who was at the Accountability
table, writing
down the latest personnel being shifted out of the fire area.
"Yeah?"
"On the double!"
Battalion yelled. "Power plant team Station 8. One male
civilian victim. Get on it! Leave Engine
51 and go with Squad 51!"
Stanley lifted his handy talkie. "L.A., Squad 51 and myself, are responding
to
Station 8's medical. They report extreme fire conditions at their location
have passed. Residual
airlessness is remaining. Electrical danger has been nullified."
##10-4, Station 51. ## And the
tones began to sound for his call, over the
main county fire channel, off of Fire Tac. ##Squad 51,
Man down. 4 South
4th St. , Redlands, at the Santa Ana Hydroelectric Power Plant Number 3.
4
S 4th St. Redlands, at the Santa Ana Hydroelectric Power Plant Number 3.
Environmental vacuum state
is being reported at the site. Time out: 16:44.##
said Sam Lanier, L.A. County Dispatcher and L.A.
County Headquarters.
Captain Stanley eyed up his men. "Roy, Craig, full sbca. We'll mask up and
wear them en route, as soon as we see the river."
Chet concentrated on using the power plant's
air filled Lytport resuscitator
on Scott. "Scott, can you hear me? We're helping you out for whatever
this
is. Don't fight the mask. You won't suffocate." he shouted. "We got you."
Stone cast
the scba mask that they had traded out for the positive pressure
demand valve, to the floor. "Wish
we could use oxygen, but the static in this
room's still too high."
Marco, kneeling, shifted
his feet from where he was monitoring Mason's
carotid pulse. He yelped as a floor spark snapped to
his skin through one of
his shoes.
"You okay?" Captain Stone checked. He had seen the flash
of static electricity
arc into Marco from the metal floor grilling.
"Damn, that hurt." Marco
hissed, sucking in another breath from his bottled
air. A bead of sweat began to run down his forehead
inside of his facemask.
"Ooo."
"It's secondary. Something to do with the stacks being rechanneled,
Mason
said. It's kind of strong, but still okay. It won't do anything to us, except
startle.
Think flannel pajamas rustling, and winter blankets. Same effect.
There's not enough atmospheric
oxygen yet to dissipate it. Soon, though."
"When?" Chet gasped. "We have just two air only cylinders
left for this.
We've already burned through one. We'll have to start in with the pure oxygen
ones
in eight minutes. After that... Our scba apparatus can't breathe for this guy.
They're not designed
for that."
"Help's on the way in twelve."
Stone nodded, listening to L.A. sending Squad 51's
address information.
"Ah, finally. Do you hear that?" the captain asked, pointing at the ceiling.
"No, what? Is the fire coming back?" Lopez wondered, rubbing his foot with a
gloved hand.
Stone shook his head.
"A thunderstorm. It's here. That's our bail out sign, at last." and he began
to smile.
Marco loosened up Mason's pants belt for better ventilation room. His glove
hand
bumped Mason's vest and a packet of cigarettes dropped out of a pocket.
"He's a smoker. Cigarettes..
only one left."
"C.O.P.D... Early emphysema? If he's a heavy smoker, and suffered a bronchial
spasm, that would explain this now. The stress of bottled air. It's always so dry."
Stone guessed.
"Listen for wheezes."
Marco bent low and placed an ear over Scott's side facing upper chest. He
looked
up, nodding. "Sure sounds like it. They're bad."
"Okay. Keep at it, Chet. Only 12 a
minute. We don't want to shut down his
oxygen drive. Over oxygenating asthma can crash aveoli exchange."
Stone stood up, flinging the control room doors wide open to draw in moisture
from the outside downpour.
That, and to watch for Squad 51's flashing lights.
"I'll call ahead to Rampart and let them know
what we've got. That way,
Respiratory Therapy will be set up in advance to receive him for interventions."
Roy and Brice shot out of the squad in their air bottles and masks.
"How's he doing?!"
Stone
and his team had brought Mason outside onto the entrance road,
using the plant's wire rescue stokes.
They had him on a table under the eaves to
keep the heavy rain from landing on Scott's face. "He's
a heavy smoker. We
should have asked. He was never a candidate for staying with us, wearing self
contained breathing apparatus."
Brice rushed with the airway box and snatched out the NP tube
to use. "It
triggered him."
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"Yep." Ben affirmed. "He's almost completely obstructed in the upper passages.
There was wheezing
earlier, now rhonci. We've got to hurry."
Firefighters Smith, Shull, Meyers and Duncan rapidly
worked around Kelly as he
and Roy traded off Mason's mechanical resuscitation task, once the nasal
airway
was threaded down into Scott's right nares and assessed for placement. "He's
good." Craig
reported, listening with a stethoscope. "Both lungs are inflating."
He lifted his handy talkie to
his facemask. "L.A., Squad 51 on scene."
##Squad 51, Time out : 17:02.##
Ben got out the
biophone and summoned the base station staff. He set the
channel dials to vital sign telemetry and
began his hail. "Station 8 on behalf
of Squad 51, do you read?"
It only took a minute for
Rampart to reply.
##Unit calling in, this is Rampart. Please repeat.## said Dr. Morton.
Stone
quickly filled him in, using a yellow patient tarp coat to cover the biophone
so rain wouldn't interfere
with its signal. "Rampart. This is Station 8 on behalf of
Squad 51. We've a male, obese, age mid
50s. Acute respiratory syndrome following
collapse. No trauma. Breath sounds : early wheezes, now
rhonci. History of smoking,
and fire department scba apparatus use due to fire vacuum exposure. Sinus
tach on
limb lead of 120. Pulse is present. He is under assisted ventilations at 12 a minute via
positive pressure room air. Unassisted, ventilations are 8 and shallow. He has an NP.
No BP is
available. We're emergency evac, en route to Triage."
Dr. Morton took his notes. He knocked on
the glass and displayed Scott's vital
signs. Dixie got on the black phone to call Respiratory and
Dr. Early, the cardiac
doc on duty. "Thanks Dixie. We need to rule out an M.I. . Collapse was due
to
respiratory distress. Squad 51. Continue cautious ventilation on room air only
to perfusion.
Monitor vital signs and start an I.V. Normal Saline TKO after you
get to Triage. Let me know if his
rhythm changes from S.T. to anything else."
##10-4, Rampart.## Ben replied. He quickly relayed
instructions to Craig Brice.
On a whim, Stanley noticed Scott's lighter in his cast off vest,
and drew it out
quickly. He flicked it, and the gas ignited. "We've got flame. O2's just about
back
in the air."
Brice worked to sandbag Scott's head for better airway control. "Might be only
temporary.
That's the rain bringing it down from the clouds. If the rain stops.."
"Check your masks!" Stone
advised. Marco climbed up the back of the squad along
with Chet to grab the foot end of the stokes
so they could place Scott on the
roof, safely between the rail bars. Soon, Mason was tied down with
rope to
prevent shifting as they worked. "Keep an eye on your regulators. Your air
bottles will
be low when you hit the green zone."
Hank jumped into the squad, and behind the wheel, as Roy,
Brice,
and Chet stayed with Scott on top. Marco took the passenger seat.
Rain poured heavily,
but Roy fought to keep his ventilations with the positive
pressure valve even and light. Limb leads
allowed him and Craig to monitor
Mason's cardiac rhythm visually. "Let's go, Cap!" DeSoto shouted
to Stanley.
"We're ready!"
Stone back away from the driver's door. "I'll stay here with my
men and monitor
things until another plant manager comes in." He banged the side of the
Squad
once everybody was away from all wheels. "We're clear."
Hank Stanley reported in. "L.A., one victim
enroute to Fire Main Triage. Have
an ambulance standing by."
##Squad 51. Time out: 17:09.##
Lightning flashed in the sky as the rain intensified around them as Squad 51
took off for Triage
at the top of the ridge.
Benjamin Stone stood, water streaming down his helmet in heavy cascades.
It
was the coolest he'd felt in days. "You better make it, man." he wished about
Mason."This
fire's the only thing I want dead."
------------------------------------
It was September
9th, and the dedication ceremony at Cistern Park had just
wrapped up. Signs of the explosion and
fire were still there, but fresh green
growth was popping out of the ground in response to the autumn
rains which
had spelled the end of the Mine Fire. The sea had snuffed out the flames of
its leading
edge a full month ago.
The fall light was beautiful on the trees that changed into gold,
and
a few monarch butterflies, hunting for an overwintering roost, were
occasionally soaring overhead.
A-shift of Station 51 and Station 8 were busy grilling up hotdogs and hamburgers
by the creek.
Captain Stanley was handing out sticks to all the kids and was
teaching them about how to roast marshmallows
over a campfire that was safely
nestled in river stones. Chet Kelly was building a game area, using
horseshoes
and steel pegs, that Gage had donated to the park.
Dixie McCall, Joanne DeSoto,
Roy and Johnny and Doc Coolidge were sitting
at the same picnic table, watching Grit run around,
in between licking their nearly empty food plates, with wild abandon.
"Now how about that?" Doc
Coolidge grinned. "He's growing up fast, isn't he?"
"He's a cute one." McCall smiled, bending
over to clap inviting hands towards the
puppy, to see if she could incite a play bow.
They
all watched as Grit ran over to the dedication monument where the
remains of Boot had been interred.
The puppy curiously sniffed the stone where
Boot's face had been engraved. He barked once at the
image, mistaking it for
another dog. But then he got bored and raised leg peed on a bush near by.
"Grit! Show some respect." Johnny yelled, embarrassed. Gage ran over and
scooped up the puppy
who began bathing his face with whimpers of love and
nervousness. "Oh, you're okay." said the paramedic.
"Come on.."
He waved to the lucky five who had come to the event to adopt out Grit's
brothers,
sisters and mother, as new owners. Dave Gordon, Patty Burns and
Les Taylor were handing out grab
bags full of leashes, dog toys, and
information pamphlets about rabies vaccinations.
He walked
by the bar, where Dr. Brackett was mixing drinks for the event
donators and by the wooden stage where
Dr. Early on piano and Dr. Morton
on saxophone, were warming up on scales, to do a set of some kind.
"What's this?" Roy's wife asked, surprised when the two doctors began
gesturing towards Dixie.
"A little surprise for Johnny. Shhh.." McCall whispered. "He doesn't know.."
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The saxophone set off Grit, who began howling to the sounds of it. Morton
imitated the puppy, much
to the amusement of the city park officials, who
were standing around the monument, taking photos,
for the newspapers.
Puzzled, Gage returned to his seat just as Dixie hopped onto the tiny stage
made of driftwood. "Where's she going?"
DeSoto was silent. He just shrugged and sat back a
little more,with a huge
grin on his face.
Joanne said, "Roy?"
"You'll see." said her
husband, watching Chris and his daughter move to a
blanket up a little closer, in order to better
listen to the music.
Dixie's soft singing began, and wove a story about life and uncertainty and
gentle clarity about knowing who you were inside, as time moved on. By the
end lyrics, Gage's
eyes were deeply filled with unfallen tears, which made
him hold Grit even more tightly to his chest.
"I get it. I totally do." Johnny said to Roy and Joanne and the Doc. "And
I know who that was
for." he sobbed.
"For Boot, with love." McCall cried out to their table happily, and then she
took a light hearted bow.
She returned to her glass of iced tea, under a smattering of applause
from
the small event crowd, and clasped Gage's hands warmly. "We all wrote
parts of that, while
stuck in traffic, believe it or not." she giggled.
"Johnny, I'm sorry." Dixie said, kissing his cheek.
"That song was supposed to do some healing. It was never meant to make
you sad."
Doc Coolidge's
gaze was gentle. "Sometimes, you gotta lance a wound to let
out all of the pain."
Johnny pointed
at the vet, accepting a napkin that Dixie handed to him.
"That's it. Exactly. I'm fine, you guys.
I think I just... finally accepted that
he's really gone. It took until today. I mean.. even my memories
are ..." he
broke off and he and Chet shared a look of heart felt understanding of
their grief
across the lawn. "I still want to be here. Where he died. All
of the time." he said, gesturing to
the monument. "But in my heart, where
Boot is.. it's the place you long for, but where you can't
stay."
And with that, Johnny surrendered completely to the feeling of Grit's
warmth and scent
and happiness, and a little bit of the heavy loss which
had weighed Gage down all summer, drifted
away, into the sunlight.
FIN
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This song of Dixie's will play on Angels of Light's End Credits page.
This 60th episode story
is the final production that will be made at
Emergency Theater Live's website. This concludes our
twenty years
of writing stories in the world of Emergency and its characters.
When the time
comes for ETL's website to shut down in the fullness
of time, full copies of all stories, both text
and image versions, will
remain, entirely intact, at the archive, the Wayback Machine for as
long
as that site wishes to host our stories.
Thanks for reading.
KMG 365
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Emergency Theater Live
on the Wayback Machine.
Click the timeline banner.
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Click the squad to go
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