************************************************** From: patti k (pattik1@hotmail.com) Sent:
Fri 6/12/09 8:36 AM Subject: Connections..
PART TWO -- THE FIRE WITHIN -- MOVIE
ONE
Roy, Thib and Trap and Stoker wheeled Ken Baxter's stokes into the park hospital on the
gurney that had been provided once 240 Robert Air had landed in the parking lot of Park Headquarters
at Appalachian Central.
Paul Carnes, the park ranger captain, trailed along to get a verbal report
from the three paramedics and one firefighter as they rushed their patient in to the doctor awaiting
them. "Don't worry about his personal info, we have that. Just a condition status on Ken. And then
I'll take one on the chopper." he ordered.
DeSoto replied dutifully, "Hypovolemic shock, with
estimated 1400 or more CC's of blood loss. In respiratory arrest. He's tubed, EOA with that ambu.
He's got an open fracture of the left femur, with one point arterial involvement, managed. We found
signs of possible light internal abdominal injuries, just deep bruising no guarding. I think it's
most likely from his seatbelt. The MAST trousers have his pressure back up to 90 systolic. Pulse
is 124, thready. EKG is showing sinus tach, regular. Pupils reactive but sluggishly dilated. We think
it's possible coma. Deep tendon reflexes are absent. He's got Ringers running in full. Blood glucose
is 130, up from 70 following IM glucagon."
"Got it. I'll give this to Dr. Almstedt, direct." said
Paul, writing quickly on his report form. "Wainwright?" he prompted.
Morgan reported on Bluebird
Five. "She's salvagable, total front and rear rotor damage but just some minor cabin dents and dings
from what I could see. I'd assume electrical shearing to some of the equipment in the patient cubicle.
All her windshield flight glass and both cabin access doors will need to be replaced. Only one fuel
tank was leaking. The other's still intact. And what I saw of the hydrolic system's fine. A paratrooper
fire crew's remaining behind to prevent any ignition points until the military air crane comes in
to airlift Bluebird Five free of that pine tree."
"Fuel's pooled on top of clay. It'll be
easy to clean up with absorbent sand, sir." offered Stoker.
Paul then nodded to Wainwright,
as the rescue and recovery group rounded the corner and went through the emergency entrance side
of the national park's tiny hospital. "Is she going to be lifted to ISLIP airport?" she asked about
the crash damaged helicopter.
"Yes, for the investigation and any later restoration." answered
Paul.
"I take it I'll be staying behind to take over Bluebird Five's regular duties?" she asked.
"You got that right. Until further notice." said Carnes. "I'll keep you posted." he added, about
Ken. "Go ahead and refuel from the pump. I've unlocked it. Grounding wire's all laid out. Thanks,
Morgan."
"No problem, captain. Glad I could help." the red haired pilot said, falling back to
return to her chopper. "I'll keep my radio tuned to base for when it's time to fly Ken to a Level
One for orthopedic surgery."
Soon, the rescuers delivered Ken into a patient treatment cubicle.
Joanne Almstedt and her team got to immediate work. Joanne began shouting out care orders to her
staff. She caught the chart that Paul tossed to her neatly while an intern took over Stoker's bagging
efforts on Ken.
By the curtains, Paul noticed that Sarah Collins had followed them, carrying a
sleeping, blanketed Joey in her arms with the assistance of Ted Cassidy, into a nearby cubicle.
A nurse followed them in. "How's the boy?"
Roy answered. "Banged up, but all right. He's just
sleeping. He said he was feeling tired and hungry. His vitals signs checked out fine on the way in."
said DeSoto, hanging up Ken's I.V.s onto a pole.
Trap grinned, thinking about something, as
he helped unblanket Ken for Joanne's examination. "You know, we really need to be grateful to Joey
once he wakes up."
"I heard. Did he really keep up manual resuscitation on Ken for that long?"
Carnes asked, surprised.
Applegate gladly shared the news. "Yep. And stopped that arterial
bleed. He saved his life." replied Trap. "I have a feeling that Ken'll come out of this whole thing
without suffering any damage from lack of oxygen. Baxter's color was still a good shade when we got
there despite all that blood loss. He never lost a regular, viable carotid. Signs of that would have
shown up on the EKG monitor as irregularities due to ischemic effects."
"Lucky." Carnes said,
nodding as he studied the rhythm on the screen. "Things still look okay."
"Let me be the judge
of that." bristled Joanne, overhearing. "Fellas, you've done your job for the day. Give us some room
please."
Her hint of dismissal was unmistakable.
All five men held up amused, mock surrendering
hands and retreated from the bay. "Yes, ma'am." Paul said, his eyes twinkling.
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joey Collins
opened his eyes and let the nurses fuss over him as they cut off his soiled gory clothes and fitted
him into a warm patient gown. His hand never let go of Sarah's the whole time. He just kept mumbling
random thoughts over and over again in his fatigue. "...All that Dad was, everything that he believed
in, is now a part of me..." he whispered.
"Yes, Joey. That's true of everybody you get to
know." frowned Sarah, worried.
"He's just emotionally stunned, Mrs. Collins. Anybody would be,
surviving the kind of ordeal he's just been through. Rest'll fix him up faster than anything I suspect.
You can stay with him if you like." the nurse offered.
"That wasn't even questionable.." Sarah
snapped, holding a soft hand on Joey's cheek through his rambling. "Easy, love. I'm here. Just close
your eyes."
"No! I want to talk to Ken...." Joey hollered, still figetting under the warm wash
towels the staff was using to clean him up to look for more minor injuries.
Terri Blake hurried
into the boy's curtained cubicle. "Shhh, he can't talk right now Joey, remember? He's got a tube down
so they can breathe for him by machine while he's being drugged into sleep."
"Roy said he's
in a coma, Terri." Joey cried, distraught.
"Yes, he wouldn't lie to you." Blake agreed.
"An
induced, protective one young man." said the older nurse kindly. "He's got a lot of mending to do
before he's healed enough to be awake."
"For how long?" Joey frowned, anxious. "He's gotta eat."
"A couple of days at the most." smiled Margaret the nurse. "Now enough about your friend. Tell
me what YOU want to eat and drink. That's the next step."
"I'm not hungry."
"Fib.." Sarah
said, tipping her chin up at her grandson in warning. "Tell the truth.."
"Okay, okay. I am. How
about a soda?"
"Oh, Joey.." Sarah grinned.
Margaret shrugged. "It's sugar at least. Good
enough for the doctor, it says here." she said, eyeing up Joey's chart. "Clear liquids if nauseated."
she read.
"But Joey hasn't thrown up." Sarah wondered.
"No, but I'm sure he feels like
he wants to right about now." said Terri in sympathy. Then she sat down on a stool right next to the
boy as he was covered up in thick heated blankets. "Joey, you can relax. Ken's responding to treatment.
He's getting transfusions and his pulse's stronger. Can you hear that EKG monitor coming from over
there?" she asked, pointing towards one curtain. A beat that was no longer rapid was sounding softly,
very near them.
"Yes." said the boy.
"That's his, so you can keep tabs on him from right
where you are. I had Joanne turn on the audible." said Blake. "And you'll be able to hear everything
the doctor does for him. DeSoto told me you wanted to be informed as soon as it happened."
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On cue, they heard Almstedt's orders to the stabilization team she had assembled around Ken in next
cubicle over. "I want a full series; skull, spine, chest and pelvic films. Draw another red top for
arterial blood gases, baseline hematocrit, and a hemoglobin study. Ann, just use a dipstick urinalysis
to rule out occult hematuria. I don't want to waste time with a foley before we fly him out of here.
Oh, and Matt? I want a serum potassium level to see if rhabdomyolysis is going to be a factor for
us. What's his pressure?" she asked at large.
"120/88." reported a nurse.
"Good. Keep
the abdominal part of the suit inflated for now. I'll let them worry about it later." said Joanne
about the surgical team in Long Island who had been alerted that Baxter was going to be sent to them.
"How's that foot?" she asked. "Pulse's weaker." said an intern monitoring circulation. "Swelling's
worse."
"Turn it until you get a better one." Joanne told her. "We've got that repaired artery
retracted away from the bone end so don't be shy about experimenting with repositioning." she
told him. "I want to see pink toes."
"Yes, ma'am." he replied.
"He's starting to gasp."
said the staffer on Ken's head, working the bag.
"How often?" Joanne asked.
"One every
four."
"Get him on a portable bird. Easy vents on PEEP, 80% O2." Almstedt concluded. "We'll
support him for now that way until he takes a more active interest in breathing on his own."
"Right away, doctor." he said.
Listening intently, the boy held his breath. "His leg. It's
so bad.." Joey sobbed, tearing up.
Terri Blake smiled to reassure him. "Ken's not feeling
it anymore. And we're gonna fix it with surgery so it's as good as new. The doctor said the break
isn't serious. It just slipped out of place while he was out there and made a small hole in that artery.
They've already sewn it up."
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The
Station 51 five was ever grateful to see a set of free hotel rooms.
Reaching his room, Cap pulled
down a penned note somebody had left taped to his door. "Our deer was sent to town." he said, reading
it. "It'll be at the butcher's when we leave ISLIP after airport training, already dehydrated and
preserved for us and packed up. Says all our luggage is already in our rooms, too." "Who
did that? Wow,.." Marco asked. "..that was nice of 'em."
"Doesn't say." Hank told him, flipping
the note over.
"Give me that. I can tell." insisted Chet, snatching the paper out of Cap's hand.
He looked at it. "It's a girl's writing. And it's curly. I'll just bet this was Terri."
"The younger
one?" asked Stoker.
"Yeah, the cute redhead." Kelly nodded.
"She gets everywhere, doesn't
she?" Roy laughed. On a thought, DeSoto paused in opening his room's door with his key. He moved
over to the door directly across the hall from his that had a do not disturb sign on it, and knocked.
"DeSoto.." Chet chided.
"It's okay." Roy laughed. "I'm sure we can guess who this is."
Johnny Gage opened the door. He was clean, dressed in a cowboy shirt, jeans and boots, wearing a cheeky
grin. "Hi guys." he said, leaning on his door frame. "Boy, do you look like something the cat dragged
in." he joked.
Stoker snorted. "Don't we always after rescues?"
Chet countered, nailing
Johnny in the chest with a finger tip. "And you look like the cat that ate the canary."
Johnny
snickered. "Well, I did."
"Who was she?" Marco asked excitedly.
"It's not what you think.
Joanne Almstedt and I had lunch together. To patch up a rough start." Gage said matter of factly.
Cap just harrumphed neutrally, already on a different track. "Is the food any good?"
"It's
great! I had a roast beef sandwich and a salad." Johnny said, patting his very full stomach.
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The grimy, hunter clad firemen five eyed up his sated condition jealously.
"Oh. The cafeteria's
only open until seven now that all the excitement's over. You've got twenty minutes." Johnny told
them urgently.
"After I shower. Then we can meet over supper to do our reports for the park people."
Hank told them.
"Aw, Cap. Let's do that later.." said the other five men in sync.
Marco
raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I thought the dinner table's for downtime."
"Say, that's right. I
forgot." said Cap in mock discovery. "Could have fooled me that we're on vacation." he chuckled.
"I feel like I've just finished a four alarm fire. I sure smell like one." He entered his room and
closed his door vigorously, leaving the rest of them standing in the pinewood hallway, alone.
Chet was still reading the note. "Hey, guess who's coming to dinner."
Johnny just winked at him.
"Everybody." Then he looked dismayed. "Oh, no. I sure hope Morgan's going to be there."
"Why?
Does she have a vendetta against you, too?" asked Kelly.
"No, the opposite." Gage grinned. "She
likes my cheeks."
Johnny saundered away, whistling happily with his hands in his pockets for the
lodge and its warm fireplace, leaving Chet behind to scratch his head in puzzlement.
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The special of the day was grilled venison a la cranberry and sweet potatoes, irresistable to
the California six.
"You just ate." Kelly scoffed at Gage as a steaming plate of deer flank was
laid before him by one of the park's wait help.
"I'm still recovering. I was cold injured,
remember?" Johnny told him, reaching for the pepper mill on the plastic red and white plaid covered
long table the main rescue crowd now occupied. "Yum. This one was taken by bow." he said taking a
bite on a fork.
"How can you tell?" Cap asked him, incredulous.
"No metallic aftertaste."
Johnny said, cheeks bulging with meat. "Steel shot leaves a residue that .....circulates around."
"Eowww.. I'm eating.." said Chet, picking at his venison steak.
Next to him, Deputy Paramedic
Dwayne Thibideaux chuckled. "Think of the savory grasses and herbs he must have eaten this morning,
Chet. Free seasoning."
"Thanks a lot." Kelly grumped, still remembering his bad kill a few days
before.
"What's with him?" Thib wondered, looking up at the others mildly.
"Virgin hunter."
Gage told him seriously.
"Oo, sorry pal. I was that once, too. It'll pass. Game meat'll forever
taste good once you get over it." Trap Applegate shared with Kelly.
"I sure hope so." Chet
moped.
"Yours is worse because of the city dweller effect." offered Sierra Ranger Ted Cassidy.
"Bet only Johnny here's been raised out in the country. Am I right?"
The firefighters nodded.
Roy added more. "I helped on a farm once. Processing pigs."
Kelly slammed his fork down
in disgust. "Do you mind.." he grunted loudly, glaring at Roy.
"Sorry. I thought I said it
discreetly enough." DeSoto told him. "Here, have my chicken." he said, trading plates with Chet.
"That at least, has still gotta to be neutral memory for ya."
"Thanks, pal." Chet smiled.
"I owe you one." he said diving in hungrily.
"Just take hunting lessons or something when we
get back home and we're even." DeSoto said.
At another part of the table, Joanne Almstedt
and Terri Blake were talking quietly over non alcoholic wine and pie. The doctor nudged her younger
companion with an elbow. "So, are you gonna ask him out?"
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"No.." said Terri, nervously eyeing up her mentor and object of affection, Paul Carnes, who sat obliviously
near them, chatting up the fire crew from L.A. "Well, I wouldn't know what to say.."
"Terri,
you're a grown woman. You've rehearsed this in your head for the last year at the very minimum. Just
do it." Almstedt encouraged lightly, in a whisper.
"Ohfine.Okayheregoes." Blake sighed deeply,
sliding her chair over to where all the men had gathered to eat. She licked dried lips and opened
her mouth. "Paul..."
Carnes was engaged in animated, laughing conversation. ".....and there we
were with snow up to our butts and forty eight hungry kids trapped in the lodge along with us for
the duration..." he shared with the rest of the group.
"So how did you feed everybody?" Stoker
grinned.
"Turned it into a sleepover around the fire: hotdogs and soda cans. With extra blankets
on the floor. Turned off the lodge lights to keep everybody calm. The boyscouts were fine. They treated
the whole affair like it was part of the tour." Paul laughed.
"Uh, Paul.." Terri started in again
weakily, afraid to tap his arm.
Carnes was captivating to his audience and equally lost in mirth.
"I've never seen such a well behaved group of kids in all my years as a captain. They didn't kick,
fight, or scream to high heavens. They just told ghost stories. Those even frightened the girls.
Didn't they, Terri?" he suddenly asked, looking right at Blake.
"I...uh.. " Terri stammered, feeling
all eyes on her from around the table. She flushed red and promptly dismissed what she was about to
do. "Well, yeah, one of them." she offered lamely. "Remember that creepy account of a mass murderer
running around upstate New York? They told it in incredible detail."
"Ah, but that guy was
real." Carnes agreed. "He was on the news just that night, still at large from the authorities." Then
Paul turned to Joanne. "Didn't they catch him only a mile or so from here, holed up in one of our
cabins?"
"Uh,.. yeah." Almstedt agreed. "Living on poached deer."
Joanne jerked her eyes
towards Paul with a small urgent head bob at Terri, but Blake shook her head vehemently, her movements
equally miniscule.
Then the moment was gone when Paul slid up close to Marco to tell him something
else. And so went the young woman's courage. She wilted in her seat.
Joanne just buried her head
in sympathic frustration.
"I'll say it again." Paul said animatedly to Lopez, hefting up his root
beer glass and sipping it. "Here's to a day full of successes. This is certainly one night I'll never
forget."
"Same here." Terri mumbled under her breath, disappointed in herself. She slid her
chair back over to Joanne's end of the table and unenthusiastically nibbled at her pie.
"Better
luck next time?" Joanne shrugged, topping off her friend's glass with more pink catawba.
"There
might not be a next time. I'm hopeless." she frowned.
Joanne did not give up. "Try asking him
when it's just the two of you around."
"I can't do that. I'll... I'll chicken out for sure because
you're not there, poking me." Terri sighed, mortified.
"Then we've got a real problem here.
You want Paul to notice you. But he's too dumb to know that you're even interested."
"Joanne..."
Terri stage whispered, chiding her.
"What? It's the truth. I'm an expert at assessing people."
she sniffed. "So.. What's the next best approach here?" she eyeballed her friend seriously.
Terri
gritted her teeth. "I hit him over the head with a baseball bat?"
"That'll work. But then I'll
have to treat him and you'll get arrested for assault." Joanne joked, deadpan. "And then for sure,
you'd lose your job."
"Yeah.... .." she sighed. Then she tensed up again. "Oh, I don't know what
to do." Terri ansed.
"Use your imagination. You've got a great one. And I'm not the only one who
knows that." she said significantly, angling her head back in Paul's direction again. "I'm getting
up to go sit by the fire. There's room enough on that free couch over there for two." she hinted.
Terri studied her twitching hands uncomfortably, and sucked in a big nervous lungful.
Joanne
took one of them, and stilled it. "Do you have that letter of reprimand Paul gave you? Maybe that
can be the topic of your conversation to start with. That way, your first excuse to talk to him alone
can be your worry over it."
"You really think so?" Blake asked, her lip quivering.
Joanne
just nodded fractionally, sincere. "Just be yourself. And Terri. Always remember that he's a friend
first and a captain second. There isn't a man alive who'll ignore a best friend in distress. Trust
your instincts. Once he's looking at you undistracted, there's no way he'll be blind to your other feelings
once you've expressed them."
Terri didn't say anything and she looked down, becoming very quiet
then with new private thoughts.
"Go. I promise I won't watch." Joanne whispered, seeing the
moment at last in her friend.
A few minutes later, Joanne smiled out of the corners of her eyes
when she saw Paul Carnes place his hand over Terri's in something more than just reassurance, in the
fire's romantically warm glow.
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"Write me?" Johnny said, grinning out the driver's window of his rover at Morgan Wainwright. He was
eating breakfast, a cojoined pair of cinnamon sweetrolls.
She was wearing a fetching exercise
suit under her ski jacket, now that she was off duty. "You bet I will." she said, giving Johnny a
light kiss on the lips. "I have to see if those buns are still warm." She moved her teeth to take
a big bite out of his food and he enjoyed holding it for her the whole time, delightedly. She smiled.
"See you when I get to California, Johnny. Thanks for the taste." Pilot Wainwright winked.
Chet
and Marco hooted from the back seat while Cap, Stoker and Roy just rolled their eyes at the innuendo.
"Gage, move it out. We're late." Cap gruffed. "We should have been there half an hour ago."
"Ah, duty calls." Johnny grinned with mock reluctance at his new love interest. Then he rolled
up his window and he took their luggage laden rover into the main lane of the parking lot, which
led out to the highway.
He kept Morgan's waving image in his rear view mirror for as long as
possible until a tree forced him to yank the steering wheel around sharply to the right, to avoid
hitting it.
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****************************************************** Subject: The Bonding.. From: patti k (pattik1@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sat 6/20/09 5:27 AM "We're here." announced Chet happily, as he drove Gage's land
rover over yet another non descript low set bridge over salty marsh. "Out of the city limits."
"We're where?" Johnny jilted sleepily from the back seat. "Just looks like more of the same to
me. Too many people." he groused limply, yawning and wincing in the bright, winter sunlight that was
in full force on this side of the Appalchian mountains. "Those skyscrapers we passed were
two burroughs, Brooklyn and Queens. That was New York. Now we're in the 'burbs according to the map;
Nassau and Suffolk..." said Stoker, "..on the way to Patchogue, where Chief Joe Rorchek lives. His
house is where all of us are going to be staying when we're not training with his crew." "Well,
when are we going to get to Long Island?" Johnny asked, complaining miserably, feeling up a cramped
aching back from sleeping in a poor position. "Isn't that where their fire station is at the airport?"
The others just laughed. Cap spoke up. "We've been ON Long Island for the last hour, Gage.
We're surrounded by the ocean. Can't you smell it?" Johnny quickly rolled down his window.
"Yeah. Holy cow. Just how big is this island? It must be huge." he said sitting up, thoroughly awake
now and surprised. The snow scented air billowed in his hair and refreshed him. Mike chuckled.
"118 miles long, 23 miles wide with a population of 7,400,000 people." "No sleepy eastern seaboard
islet is this." Kelly giggled. "Out here, they do everything grand scale. You missed seeing the World
Trade Center, Johnny. Man, those towers were BIG. We could see them all the way from our island."
"Sorry I missed them." Johnny whispered sincerely. "I've heard they're something really special."
A camera click filled the rover as Lopez hooted in touristy excitement. Marco pointed animatedly
as they passed another road sign. "Hey, you'll never guess the name of the avenue we just passed."
"What was it?" Hank asked, still interested in learning the topography. "Stanley Avenue."
"Oh, no way." Cap chuckled. "It's true. I took a picture of it for you as a souvenir." Marco
said, patting Cap's shoulder. "I'm so loved." Hank rolled his eyes. "But donuts would have been
appreciated much more." he sniffed, scanning the businesses around them for their appointed goal.
"Oh, yeah.. Chet, pull over. There's the place right there. The one Joe mentioned in his phone
call last night. He said to pick up some ribs from that joint to be part of lunch today for the bunch
of us."
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"The Bobbique?" Kelly scoffed, squinting at the sign out front of the low, red brick building.
"Don't ask. If a fire chief says the food's good, it is. We're stopping." Cap said no nonsense.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Leaving
the BBQ ribs and another foil covered tray the gang had prepared, everyone spilled out of the rover
and into a virtual paradise. "Wow, flowers?" peeped Chet as they viewed the extensive gardens around
a quaint white New England cottage. "Must be sheltered from the north winds down here if
Indian summer's still hanging on." DeSoto guessed. "It's almost hot now." "It's the air masses
off the ocean that do that. Kind of like our fog banks at home along the PCH." Stoker shared. "Guess
it all depends on which way the wind's blowing. Here, it must be from the south all the time." he
said, licking a finger to hold it up to test the breeze. "Which is why my wife and I built our
home here thirty five years ago." said a rich stenorous voice from behind a bush. The gang
turned and spied an older man with white hair and dark eyebrows making his way towards them in a carnigan
sweater and naval trousers. Cap paced forward and warmly took Joe Rorchek's hand. "Chief, thanks
for having us. We got the chow okay." he smiled. "This is Roy DeSoto, Johnny Gage, our paramedics,
Marco Lopez, Michael Stoker, our engineer, and Chester B. Kelly." "And you're Captain Henry
Stanley." Joe remembered, greeting the others briskly. "Please, call me Hank." Cap said quickly,
much to the amusement of the other five. Joe didn't miss the inside joke, but neither did he
ask the reason why. "Will do. Come on, let's get your secondary things inside and then I'll pull around
ahead and guide you the rest of the way to my station at MacArthur. The backroads around here get
kind of tricky to avoid the deeper marshes." Rorchek told them. "We'll be floating back and forth
between the two places depending on whether we're either on or off duty." "Where are we going
exactly, sir?" Mike asked, ever thorough, with his map out and a pencil. "100 Arrival Ave
in Ronkonkoma, NY. The telephone number's 467-3279 if we get separated from each other in traffic."
Joe replied.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Soon, the two fire
crews were united in the great yawning bay holding the airport's crash apparatus and other rescue
and medical units. Joe Rorchek introduced his two sons, Chris and Ted and then Hallie Green, spunky
and fair haired followed by Al Martelli, pump operator and lastly, Rags Harris, the large hazmat rescue
fireman of football stature who demonstrated his gentle nature with an easy going smile.
Rags
showed a rapid fire cooking prowess by divesting Cap of their purchased beef ribs in trade for a twenty,
and then the hunted venison tray offering, by heating them into rich, steaming savory fare in less
than five minutes over an open fire pit grill standing outside under the eaves over sand. The
chief invited Cap and the others to sit at the long table that Hallie and his other crew had prepared
with potatoes, salad, rolls and cheese. "What'll it be? Coffee?" he asked them as they sat at seats
very like the ones they were used to back in Carson. "What else?" Cap joked. "Don't we all live
on it?" "Like gas." Chet Kelly commented. Hallie laughed lightly as she placed warmed
china in front of their guests, one by one. "By the gallon. Gentlemen, for later, the head's out that
door and up the stairs just down the hall from the chief's office. All the showers and stalls are
right next to the locker room. Eat up."
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The gang smiled appreciating the view and blinking a little at the glare of sunlight coming in through
the skylights and reflecting off the white painted brick walls surrounding them in the kitchen space.
Martelli took a seat next to Chet, sporting identical hair. They eyed up each other and nodded
in mutual appreciation of their hairstyle choices. Then Al grinned. "Hi guys. Nice to meet all of
you. I've got attendants from the terminal coming who'll hang all your stuff up for you except for
the personals in your duffle bags." "Thanks." said the Station 51 gang, savoring their freshly
poured coffee mugs. Ted, the light brown haired, small but athletic firefighter, was curious.
"Hey, did you bring your Cally uniforms? Those have been authorized as a go by HQ." "Yeah."
replied Cap. "Turnouts, helmets, shirts, pants, shoes and boots." "We've set out scba harnesses
in your sizes." replied Chris. "And a few sweaters. There's a blow coming in later tonight according
to the tower boys." Marco looked up from his eager feasting in dismay. "Whoa, more snow?"
Hallie shrugged. "A little ice. Nothing big." she said, working quickly at her meal. Roy
DeSoto shivered in reflex. "Brrr.." The others chuckled at his still oversensitive reaction.
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Stoker spoke up, asking the question that had been on his lips for weeks. "Any chance I'll get to
play with the rigs as a driver?" "Ohhh, yeah." drawled Martelli happily. "I could use a break.
I've got the cones already set out on a spare runway around the first scenario we've got planned
to go over with you guys, in the morning." "Just what have you got planned?" Gage asked of
the chief. "A stationary jumbo jet aflame, with all passengers exited. A mock hot tire blow
that got into the hydraulics." replied Joe. "Oo, messy." Hank winced in sympathy. "It's
not so bad. We have a clean formula to burn around the fuselage." the square shouldered and square
jawed Chris Rorchek replied. "Smokes a bit, but then again, that's the point." "Speaking
of smoked. These ribs are terrific." said Stoker, eyeing up their food host. "Thanks." said
the bass voiced Harris. "My father was a top notch sous chef. One of the best in all of New York
in his day. He taught me everything I know." "Including firefighting?" Ted Rorchek chipped in,
baiting. "No, dad hated fire, only liked it at heel under his meal, if you know what I mean."
laughed the big African American firefighter. "He always told me flames are best small and tamed,
not big and wild. But I liked that side of things. So I went seeking it out. And soon, I found taming
fire back down to the tiny is exactly the spice of life for me." "It shows." said Marco,
hefting up a deer steak bite in token respect. "Can I get the recipe for this?"
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"Sure, the cards are in the Dalmatian cookie jar over there." said Harris, pointing with a knife.
"I made copies for anyone who wants them." "They're almost gone." said Green, reminding him yet
again on an old subject. "Really? Now how'd that happen?" Rags smirked, pleased that he had his
fans. "The tower boys raided our frig last night while we were sleeping." Martelli told him.
"Made off with a few choice items. Like the TV remote and your recipes." The smile wiped right
off of Harris's face. "Those lily livered.." he bubbled. Chris, Ted and Rags instantly mourned
the lost electronic, promptly forgetting all about food. Joe grunted in amusement. "You boys
and your wars. You all deserve each other." Chet's eyes lit up. "You mean there's a hot practical
joke battle going on?" "The very thing." Ted grumbled, mad at being outmaneuvered once again.
"Between us, and the control tower." Kelly face melted into a feral grin. "Ooo, Cap. Permission
to pounce?" Chet asked. Hank snorted. "What's he talking about?" Chris wondered, looking
at Hank while pointing a fork at Chet.
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Cap neatly set down a folded napkin and fixed the bigger Rorchek brother with an arched brow. "You're
looking at a station clown with the worst reputation in all of the Los Angeles County Fire Department."
Cap attributed to Kelly with respectful head bob. "If you turn Chet loose on your target bunch, I
guarantee they'll never ever bother you boys again once he's through with them." Rags, Chris
and Ted leaped out of their chairs and grabbed Chet out of his by the seat of his pants, and both
arms, hauling him away with them to the radio room, unmindful of his protests at being kidnapped
from a plate that still had one last tasty rib left on it. Chief Joe smiled, enjoying his uninterrupted
meal with zest. "Yep, we firefighters fit right in with each other no matter where we go." "Woof!"
barked a large dog loudly from somewhere nearby. Hallie reached over and snagged Chet's food.
"Here, Sophie. Have a bite." she said, tossing the meat over to a large spotted Dalmatian that came
sailing into the room as if she was psychic. "He's done." "Not by a long shot." sniggered
Gage.
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Click the blowing leaves to go to Page Ten
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