Two weeks had gone by before Crista started to receive threatening notes.
None ever said anything about hurting her, but it was obvious that they came
from a stalker. Few sane people would cut out letters from magazines (except
maybe Bridges, but is he really sane? The world may never know...) and paste
them on blank paper. Captain Durfee had shown them to the police, but they
couldn't find fingerprints so they did nothing.
Cris stared at the note in her hand, willing it to be a dream. Who could
be heartless enough to send her something like this on her birthday? Bell
walked into the medic's dorm and plucked the note from her hand. He crumbled
it up and threw it into the trash.
"You are -not- going to sulk around here all day. The guys have lunch
ready and are waiting. Let's go," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her
to her feet.
"I'm not hungry," she grumbled.
"Too bad. Walk." Bell pushed her forward. Obeying, she headed into the
dining area. Cris was greeted by shouts of "Surprise!" and "Happy Birthday!".
They had decorated the room with streamers, balloons, and Happy Birthday!
signs. She smiled, shook her head, and opened her mouth to say "Thank you",
but Wick interupted.
"Wait, wait, before you say anything, we also have confetti." Everyone
pulled their hands from behind their backs and threw it into the air.
Hundreds of little magazine letters fluttered to the ground.
"You just had to get that in there, didn't you?" Cris asked, trying to be
stern. She failed miserably and laughed. "Thanks everyone,"
"Cake time!" Ryan called, walking in from the kitchen. In her hands, she
carefully balanced a 4' long by 2' wide layer cake. In the middle was an
ambulance made of an edible sticker. Above the R.A., it said HAPPY BIRTHDAY,
PROBIE! Ryan set the cake down on the table. They sang Happy Birthday and
then Cris blew out the candles.
"Bravo, bravo!" Bridges exclaimed, clapping his hands. Crista arched an
eyebrow and shot him a cocky look.
"Doubted my ability to blow them all out, huh?"
"Uh oh," someone mumbled in the background.
"Here Bridges, eat," Ryan said. She stuffed a rather large forkful of
cake into his mouth then handed him a plate with the rest of the piece.
"Aww, how sweet. Your turn, Bridges!" Adams teased.
"People, we forgot one thing. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You
may now stuff cake in each other's faces," Durfee put in. Bridges' face took
on a devilsh look as he picked up his piece of cake with his fingers. Ryan's
eyes widened as he hurled it at her. She ducked and it hit Turner smack in
nose. The entire group erupted in laughter, except for the cake-faced
firefighter.
"Okay, we've all had our fun," Turner grumped. He wiped the cake off and
held it in his hand, contemplating who to chuck it at. Seeing as it was meant
for Ryan, he decided on her.
"Oh Miss Senior Paramedic!" Before he got a chance to throw it, there was
a loud crash in the engine bay. The group hurried down in time to see a
person run out the back door. Bell and Sanchez raced after him, but the
station's siren called them back.
"Station 77, Station 27, Battalion 4, structure fire. Fleming Apartments,
Northwest Avenue, cross Atlantic. Time-out 14:39." On the ride there, Ryan
and Cris checked the rig for signs of tampering, but found none. Whoever had
been in the engine bay earlier either hadn't touched it, or was very
meticulous. Station 77 arrived at the scene first. There was smoke coming
from the building, but no flames on the outside. The four paramedics pulled
on their gear then helped each other strap on their oxygen tanks.
"Ryan, you're with Bridges and Turner. Check the ground floor for
victims," Durfee ordered. "Stoker, you're with Sanchez and Adams on the
second floor. Bell and Lobo, do a sweep of the third floor. We'll get water
on it from the outside. All right, let's move!"
Bell and Lobo disappeared inside the building. Stoker, Sanchez, and Adams
followed slightly behind, stopping at the second floor. The first four rooms
were empty and they were moving towards the fifth when Sanchez saw Crista
stumble and lean against the wall for support. Before he or Adams could
react, she had pushed herself away from the wall and continued down the
hallway. After checking the rest of the floor and finding it empty, they were
ready to get out of there.
Sanchez turned around and indicated this to Adams with a wave of his
hand. He heard a choking noice behind him and turned in time to see Crista
fall to the ground, coughing violently. Dropping the hose, he lunged forward,
picked her up, and threw her over his shoulders. By the time they got out of
the building, she had stopped breathing altogether.
`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~Part Six~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`
"What happened?!" Bell shouted over his airmask. They had met up wit him
and Lobo on the stairs.
"I don't know!" Sanchez replied. Once clear of the building and the other
firefighters, he set her down. In record time, Bell and Sanchez had her air
mask and jacket off, and their air masks off. Bell felt for a pulse and
Sanchez lowered his head as close as possible to her lips.
"I've got a pulse," Bell said. Sanchez lifted his head and shook it in
exasperation.
"Nothing. She's not breathing," he said, grimly. He started
mouth-to-mouth while Bell ran for the oxygen.
"C'mon, Cris, breathe," he muttered. After two more breaths, she started
to cough and took huge gulps of air. Bell knelt down and slid an oxygen mask
over her mouth and nose. By that time, Durfee, Wick, Ryan, and Adams had
gathered around them. Wick picked up Cris's air mask and held it up to his
face. He coughed and dropped it, shaking his head to clear away the
dizziness.
"I don't know what that is, but it sure ain't O2."
"Go get it tested," Durfee instructed Adams. The latter picked up the
tank and jogged off.
Ryan picked up the headset and pulled it on, saying, "City base, this is
Rescue 77."
"Go ahead, 77," came Griffith's reply.
"City base, we have a female, 23 years old, who inhaled approximately
three minutes worth of a foreign gas. She was in respiratory arrest, but is
now breathing on her own. Stand by for vitals."
"77, any idea what the gas was?"
"Negative, city base. Vital signs are: BP 130/90, pulse 100, respiration
14 and shallow."
"Keep her on 6 liters of O2 and an IV of D5W. Transport as soon as
possible."
"10-4 city base. 6 liters O2, IV D5W."
"Hey Cap!" Adams called, running over to them.
"What've you got, Adams?"
"3200 PPMs of Carbon Monoxide. It wasn't one of our tanks."
There was a shocked silence for several seconds, everyone thinking the
same thing. Two more minutes of breathing that in, and Crista would be dead
in less than an hour. Ryan finally broke the silence.
"City base, we have just been informed it was 3200 PPMs of carbon
monoxide."
"3200?" There was a woosh of air as Griffith slowly let out his breath.
"10-4, 77. Transport NOW and monitor her vitals closely."
"10-4 City Base."
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~
An hour later, Dr. Caulfield walked into the waiting room, relieved that
she could give the three paramedics good news.
"How is she?" Bell asked anxiously.
"She's going to be fine. I'd like to keep her overnight for observation
then have her take the next two or three days off to rest," she replied.
Bell, Ryan, and Wick all relaxed and sighed in relief. The last hour had been
torture and Ryan had been afraid Wick was going to hit something if they
didn't hear anything soon.
"Thanks, Doc. I'll pick her up tomorrow and take her home. Can we see her
now?"
"Sure. Follow me please." Dr. Caulfield led them down the corridor to a
room on the end. She pushed the door open for Ryan and Wick to enter, but
stopped Bell with a hand on his arm.
"Don't leave her alone, Bell." He nodded his head and walked into Cris's
room. They still had her on oxygen, which was the only tell-tale sign that
anything had happened. Her color was good and she was breathing normally.
"I was wondering when you'd get in here," Cris said. Bell smiled and
walked over to the bed. He leaned down and hugged her tightly.
"Don't scare me like that again, okay?" he asked. There were tears in his
eyes, but he was successfully holding them back.
"Okay," she replied, squeezing his hand.
"So, how do you feel?" Ryan asked.
"Like hell. I don't think I'll be able to look at food for a week."
"The nausea should go away by morning."
"I hope it does."
"We have to get back to the station. I'll pick you up tomorrow after
shift change, okay?" Bell asked.
"Sounds good. See ya then," she replied. They said their good-bye's then
headed out to the rig. Wordlessly, Bell handed Wick the keys then climbed in
on the passenger side. Wick stared at the keys for a second, then shrugged
his shoulders and got in. Ryan climbed in the back. The ride to the station
was quiet; each reflecting on the days events.
The firefighters were gathered in the common room. They had the TV on,
but no one seemed to be watching. For once, it was quiet which gave the
entire station an eerie atmosphere. Sanchez was the first one to see them
walk in and he jumped to his feet. Ryan, Bell, and Wick could see that
everyone wanted to ask about Crista, but they were all afraid of the answer.
"She's going to be fine," Bell said. The tension in the air, which
moments ago was so thick it could almost have been cut with a knife,
dissipated. There were a lot of cheers and the room errupted in a buzz of
chatter. Ryan, Wick, and Bell were answering questions left and right.
"When's she coming back?" Bridges asked, his question the loudest.
"You're not getting attached to a -probie-, are you, Bridges?" Wick
asked, with mock horror.
"Well, she won't be a probie forever! Besides, she's fun to pick on," he
explained, rather lamely.
"Oh sure, whatever you say."
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~
After shift change the next day, Bell picked his cousin up from the
hospital and took her home. Crista unlocked the door and shoved it open.
"You don't have to stay if you've got other things to do," she said.
"Doctor's orders, I'm not allowed to leave you alone," he replied.
"Besides, who knows where that stalker might be lurking. He got into the
station when we were all there, remember?"
"No, I forgot," she said sarcastically. Cris flopped down on the couch
and groaned. "My head hurts."
"Where's your Tylenol?"
"Behind the mirror in the bathroom." Bell went to get it and came back
carrying the bottle and a glass of water. He handed her the water along with
the last two pills.
"Empty. I'll run over to the drugstore and get you another bottle."
"Okay. Hey, I thought you were supposed to leave me alone?" she teased.
"Ha ha. Five minutes isn't gonna hurt."
"Ten."
"Whatever. I'll be right back." Cris didn't even hear the door close. She
fell asleep and was awakened a few minutes later by the doorbell.
