Scene One
"Ow!" John Gage grimaced as the razor nicked his left cheek for the second time this morning. He was distracted, and it showed.
"So," Roy DeSoto said, gliding his own razor deftly across his chin. "Did you enjoy dinner last night?"
Gage stopped mid-stroke. "Do you have to ask? It's a wonder you're not an elephant." He patted his best friend's bare midriff. "Joanne's a great cook."
The conversation paused for a moment, as if the men were pondering some deep question of life. It didn't matter. There was a real and rare comfort between them, the kind of sacred bond that is usually reserved for the very young. If Gage and DeSoto had been children, they would be partners in cowboy games, school projects and mischievous plots. Instead, they were partners as paramedics, but then, those same elements seemed present even so.
"So," Roy spoke again, wiping his face with a towel. "What did you think of Lindsey?"
Gage grinned approvingly. "She's nice, Roy. Really nice." His grin half-faded. "I don't know if she's interested though. I mean, it was nice of Joanne to try and fix us up, but. . . well. . . she didn't seem too impressed, if you know what I mean."
Roy couldn't believe his ears. Johnny usually bragged about his prowess in the female-catching department. He wasn't used to seeing his partner lose his confidence like this. "What makes you say that?" Roy asked, wondering if he should. His prodding usually led to a long, drawn-out spiel of. . . baloney.
"I dunno," Johnny replied, following Roy to their lockers. "I've got a. . . feel for these things. I can tell when it's like. . . Bingo! The girl digs me. . . and I can tell when she'd rather be having a root canal. This one. . . well. . . let's just say I could hear the dentist's drill. . ."
Roy shook his head. He had long ago given up hope of understanding Johnny-think. "Well, I still think you should. . ."
He never got to finish the thought. The familiar sound of the klaxon signaled that someone, somewhere needed them. . . now. Sam spouted out the information and Roy jotted it down like he had hundreds of times since the paramedic program began.
"Squad 51, KMG 365," he said, then quickly slid into the driver's seat of the squad.
Scene Two
"Hurry! This way!" Said a frazzled lady in a pink, terry cloth bathrobe and slippers.
Gage and DeSoto followed her into the house and up the stairs to the second level.
"She's in there," the lady said, the pitch in her voice rising sharply as she spoke. "I. . . I knocked and called and. . . and there's just no answer. I don't know what's happened!"
"What's her name?" Roy asked.
"Julie," the woman said. "She's my only daughter. Please help her. I'm scared. . . Oh no! She's got to be all right. . . why doesn't she answer me? Julie!"
"Calm down, Ma'am," Gage said, putting his hands on the woman's shoulders. "We're gonna help your daughter, but we need you to help us by staying calm, ok?" He saw the fear in the woman's weathered face. He had seen it many times. He smiled, looking right into her eyes. "She's gonna be all right."
"Julie!" Roy called, pounding the bathroom door. "Julie! This is the fire department. Can you open the door? We'd like to talk to you."
No answer.
Roy turned the knob. It was locked. "Ma'am, we'll have to break in. . ."
"Yes! Yes!" The woman answered, the angst returning to her voice. "I don't care about the door!"
Roy kicked the door once. Nothing. Twice. Nothing. Three times. The lock gave way and the door flew inward, revealing a teenage girl crumpled like dirty laundry on the floor.
"Julie!" screamed the woman, her hands flying outwardly in an automatic mothering reflex.
"Roy, she's white as a ghost," Johnny said, rushing to the victim, picking up the girl's limp frame to move her to a location where they could treat her.
"She was vomiting," Roy said, alluding to the mess still visible in the toilet bowl. He turned to Julie's mother. "Has Julie had the flu recently? Has she been sick?"
The lady shook her head. "I. . . I don't. . ." Then, her head hung down, as if defeated. "She's sick a lot."
Gage's brown eyes narrowed, fixing on the woman as he laid Julie's body down on the hallway floor.
"Could you explain what you mean by sick?" Roy asked gently.
"I. . .I don't know," the woman went on. "She just gets the flu a lot. You know. . . she gets sick to her stomach. You know how kids are. They're always catching things, but. . . but this. . ." Tears welled up in the woman's droopy grey eyes. "You can help her, can't you?"
Gage went about getting the vital signs while Roy reached for the bio-phone. "We're going to help her, Ma'am," Roy continued. "Listen. . . uh. . . when Julie gets sick, is it. . . is it usually right around meal time?"
The woman didn't speak. She just nodded a yes as Roy lifted the bio-phone receiver. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. . ."
Scene Three
"Good diagnosis, doctor," Doctor Brackett said, patting Roy on the shoulder. "The girl is bulemic. She's been hiding it from her mother for some time, from the looks of things."
Roy swallowed his sip of coffee. "Well, I wish I wasn't right," he said. "Will she be okay?"
Brackett's smile faded. "I think so, but. . . she's got a long road of recovery ahead of her. It could be touch and go for a while, but at least the truth is out. At any rate, you fellas did a great job."
"What causes young girls to do this, Doc?" Johnny asked, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. "I mean, she's a beautiful young girl. Why would she want to do this to herself?"
"This," Dixie said, tossing a copy of Vogue magazine in front of him. "Look at that model. She's a walking toothpick."
Roy said nothing. Johnny said nothing. Brackett said nothing. Dixie was about to step on a soapbox, and no one dared to say a word when she did.
"Young girls want to look like this. They think this is what the ideal woman looks like and they'll do anything to become like this! Gives a whole new meaning to the words. . . to die for. . . doesn't it?" Dixie's eyes were like an ocean on fire; blue, but full of zest and zeal and an obvious distaste for this subject.
Johnny picked up the magazine, taking a long, hard look at the skeletal young woman on the cover. "I don't know about you guys, but. . . well. . . a girl who's that thin just isn't my idea of the perfect woman."
Dixie smiled. "I wish more men like you would get that message out," she said. "It might save a lot of lives and keep some of these girls out of this emergency department." She patted Gage on the shoulder and they exchanged an affectionate glance, a glance that could easily have been between an older sister and her sibling.
Scene Four
Six hungry firemen sat around the kitchen table at Station 51, eating Mike Stoker's spaghetti as quickly as possible, waiting for the klaxon to interrupt them at any moment. Would they be lucky today? Would they get through an entire meal without a hitch?
The buzzer sounded, but not the klaxon. Someone wanted in. The captain left the table to let in their visitor, and soon returned with a pretty brunette with eyes as blue as Dixie's.
"Someone's looking for you, Gage," the Cap said, smiling.
Chet's eyes rolled. "Where's her white cane?" He said.
Gage scowled at his little nemesis, who was getting too much enjoyment out of this. "Lindsey. . . I. . . what a surprise!" Johnny said, getting up from his seat to go and greet the girl.
She blushed a little. "Hi. I was in the neighbourhood and. . . well. . . do you like homemade cookies?"
Gage's brown eyes lit up as a huge smile spread across his handsome face. "Do I love. . . well. . . I sure do love homemade cookies, but. . . well. . . you didn't have to do that. . .oh. . . well, of course. . . I'm glad you did. I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't want to. . . eat cookies that you made."
Roy grinned. He enjoyed watching Johnny stumbling and fumbling his way through this.
She handed him a tin, smiling shyly. "It's ok," she said. "I had to make a couple of batches for the ladies auxiliary and. . . these were left over. It was no trouble."
"You're a member of the ladies auxiliary?" Johnny asked, perplexed. "You don't have a fireman husband that I don't know about, do you?"
She giggled. "No. My brother works over at 116's, remember? You're too funny, Johnny."
A light bulb went on above Gage's head. Not literally, of course, but you could see the wheels turning. He had this girl on the hook. She liked him. She really liked him! It was all he could do not to jump up and down right there in the kitchen. "Be cool, Gage," he thought. "Don't be an idiot."
"Johnny," she said. "I was wondering if you want to come over to my place for dinner Friday night?"
His heart felt like it skipped a beat. "F-f-Friday? Uh. . . I'm off. . ." He glanced at Roy. "Are we off?"
Roy nodded.
"We're off. . . I mean. . . I'm off on Friday. Sure. . . I'd love to."
"Great. See you at seven," she said. "Don't be late."
"Oh, I won't be. . . I. . . I'm always on time. . . " he said, as the klaxon sounded, signaling that yet another emergency awaited their attention. "Sorry. . . we gotta run. . ." He tripped over his own feet on the way to the squad.
Scene Five
The fire was already well underway when Station 51 rolled up to the two story double tenement building. Flames lunged at the old wood like ravenous dogs, spewing thick black smoke out into the sky. Captain Stanley directed his orders into the handy talkie, evaluating the situation in seconds with the professional expertise that proved just how well he deserved the bugles that accentuated his uniform.
A teenage girl ran frantically across the street to the captain, coughing and hunching over on the way. Captain Stanley put a fatherly arm around her, motioning for the paramedics to take action. "Tyler. . ." the girl said. "I couldn't get to him. He's still inside."
"There's someone in there?" Johnny asked for clarification, casting a worried glance toward the inferno that used to be someone's homes.
"I was. . .
"Cap!" Johnny yelled. "We got a victim inside!"
Captain Stanley looked at the blaze too, grimacing. "Can you and Roy get in there?" he asked, honestly wondering. "It's pretty intense."
The Cap and Gage stared at each other for a few tense seconds. "Well. . ." Johnny said. "The quicker we're in. . ."
"The quicker you're out. . ." Captain Stanley knew Gage's philosophy. He also knew that he wouldn't hesitate to take the risks necessary to perform a rescue. "DeSoto. . . you and Gage get in there and rescue the victim. Chet and Marco will back you up!"
"Right Cap!" answered Roy, who had already started putting on his oxygen tank when he overheard the conversation.
Once inside, the smoke encased the men like a tomb, making visibility little or nothing. Chet and Marco aimed the hose at the menacing flames, hoping to give their colleagues time and space to search for the boy. Sometimes the boys of 51 were not like six separate men at all, but like one synchronized machine, each part affecting the other, each one affecting the whole for the better. It was a daunting thing to have another man's life in your hands and a challenge to trust a man enough to let him play that role.
"Anybody in here?!" Roy yelled, as he entered the kitchen. "Tyler! Tyler, can you hear me?"
No response.
Roy wasn't surprised. He would be amazed if anyone was still conscious in this. He prayed that the boy was still alive. Roy DeSoto did not like the idea of losing a victim, especially a child. He had kids of his own. It would hit too close to home.
"Roy! I'm going upstairs." Johnny said, heading for the banister. It didn't look too healthy, but he would have to risk it.
Upstairs, the smoke was even thicker. It made Johnny think of pea soup fog, but blacker. "Tyler! Tyler, can you hear me?!" he called, going from room to room, opening closets and looking under beds. A five-year-old boy was small, and could easily hide anywhere.
Johnny did a quick sweep of the bathroom. He would have missed the child too, if a red running shoe hadn't caught his attention, lying on the floor just outside the linen closet door. Johnny opened the closet and a limp, rag doll body flopped out.
Gage grabbed the child with nimble speed and checked for a pulse. He yanked off his own oxygen mask and held it over the boy's face as he tried to maneuver his way through the black smoke back to the stairs.
"Roy!" Johnny tried to yell to his partner, but the sound was muffled. He was inhaling too much smoke and if he didn't get out of here quickly, he would soon be overcome by it himself. He hurried down the hallway in the general direction of the stairway and headed down, blindly.
Roy was already halfway up the stairs when they met. Johnny just had enough time to plop the boy into Roy's arms before the lack of oxygen in his own system sent him tumbling downward, downward, downward, ending up at the bottom of the staircase. . . semiconscious.
Roy hurried cautiously down the stairs with the victim over his shoulder. "Johnny! Johnny! Chet! Johnny's down!"
"Can you hold this?" Chet asked Marco before leaving the fire hose to go and help his arch rival and friend. "Go on," Chet motioned for Roy to go ahead and tend to his little victim. Chet lifted Johnny awkwardly over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and headed out of the building himself, finally laying Johnny down on the grass beside the little boy.
Soon, oxygen was being administered and Gage sputtered back to life, bright eyes and soot-covered face staring up at a worried Chester B. Kelly.
"The boy," Johnny said, his voice raspy and weak. "How's the boy?" He tried to sit up, but Chet put his hand on his chest.
"Will you relax?" Chet said, sounding annoyed like he would if Johnny played a prank on him. He didn't want Gage to know how worried he really was. "The boy's going to be fine. Roy's got him all fixed up. And. . . I treated you. . ." Chet smiled triumphantly. "Gee. . . maybe I should be Roy's partner and you can just be a regular hose jockey. What would you think of that?"
Gage smirked. "Shut up, Chet." The words barely came out amidst a flurry of coughs and sputters. It was just as well. The banter was interrupted by the arrival of the ambulance.
Scene Six
"How was your date last night?" Roy asked, smirking a silly smirk, buttoning his pressed blue shirt.
Johnny smiled. "Oh, it was great," came the reply.
"Great?" Roy asked. He was truly surprised.
Gage's dates usually ended up as "Tales from the Crypt" the next day. He was actually in the mood for one of those macabre tales today, but he wasn't going to get one. Darn!
"Great? It was incredible," Johnny said, beginning a typical rant. "She's a wonderful cook. She likes the same music I do. We watched a movie that we both liked. I'm going to see her again on Monday."
"Another date?" Roy asked curiously, leaning in to get all the nitty-gritty details.
Gage began tying his shiny black shoes. "Not exactly."
Roy's brow furrowed. "What do you mean. . . 'not exactly'?"
"Well," Johnny said. "Lindsey's involved in a lot of fund raising for the department. I mean, she's really got a flair for it. You've got to admire her dedication. . . her powers of persuasion. . . her. . ."
"What's she got you doing?" Roy asked, raw skepticism in his voice.
"Bingo," Johnny said.
"Bingo?" Roy repeated like a parrot looking for a cracker.
"Bingo," Johnny said. "She asked me to be a bingo caller on Monday night at the monthly fire department bingo and. . . I said sure. I mean, why not? I get free food and drink made by the ladies auxiliary. The money is going to a great cause and. . . I get to spend time with Lindsey too. It's a good deal, right?"
Roy grimaced. He felt like he should prepare a eulogy for his best friend. "You know Fred Emerson?"
"Yeah," Johnny replied. "He's over at 36."
"He used to call those bingos all the time. He said it was a nightmare."
Johnny's face dropped. "A. . . a nightmare?"
"A nightmare," Roy continued. "He said he'd rather spend the rest of his life partnered with Craig Brice than have to call one more of those fund-raiser bingos."
"Aw c'mon, Roy," Johnny chided. "How bad can it be? He must've been pulling your leg. It's a room full of sweet old ladies."
"Oh yeah. . . well you just. . ."
The klaxon sounded, signaling the end of another fascinating conversation.
Scene 7
The bingo hall was packed with wanna be winners, cigarette smoke and a cacophonous level of conversation that made Johnny think of a giant beehive amplified over loud speakers. He sat on the stage, looking over the machine that he would be running for the next couple of hours. The sudden realization that all the focus would be on his voice made a lump rise in his throat. He hadn't thought of this. He hadn't thought period. He had let his heart and his hormones lead him here.
He recognized some of the firefighters from the various stations around the county. They would be walking about, keeping track of things from the floor. There was Avis from 116's and Elo. It was a relief not to see Craig Brice. Gage squinted. He took a good, long look. That couldn't be. Could it? Was that Chet? Yes. . . yes, it was Chet. He volunteered here too? The dog hadn't said a thing to anyone about it. It was a wonder he hadn't come to the stage to dig Johnny already. Oh well. There would be plenty of time for that later. He was sure the digs would fly at some point.
"Are you ready?" Lindsey asked, her sweet voice almost lulling Johnny into a stupor. Good grief! He was pathetic.
"Uh huh," Johnny replied. "I think so."
"You'd better get started. These folks will get restless if we don't start right on time."
If there is one thing John Gage learned about sweet old ladies by intermission, it's that they carry what seems like anvils in their purses. He took one of those purses in the left shoulder when a spindly little grandma wanted O-67, but got G-52 instead. It was still smarting when he stepped off the stage for his break.
"Way to go, Gage," Chet said, smirking. "That's Mrs. Tewkesbury - 1, Gage - 0."
"Shut up, Chet!" Johnny said, rubbing the fresh injury. "That lady is a menace. Why do they let her abuse the bingo callers like that?"
"Aw, c'mon Johnny. They're just harmless old ladies. It's for a good cause." Chet's saintly smile was too much.
"Good cause nothing," interjected Avis. "Mrs. Jackson keeps on pinching my butt when I walk by. She says it's for luck and all the other ladies at her table just grin at me. . . like this. . . see?" He tried to demonstrate. "It's harassment, I tell you!"
Chet laughed. "Avis, you don't seem to mind it that much. You volunteer to do this every month and every month Mrs. Jackson pinches your butt."
Avis pouted as he walked away. "It's. . . it's for a good cause. . . that's all."
"It's time to start the second half of the bingo," Lindsey said, smiling sweetly. "You're doing a wonderful job, Johnny. Thank you." She pecked him on the cheek.
Gage smiled back, but he knew he'd been reeled in like a fish on a hook. "Do I have to go back up there?" He asked, rubbing his left shoulder again.
"We need you, Johnny," Lindsey coaxed, taking him by the hand like a mother would her frightened child, leading him to. . . the stage of doom.
The second half went a little better, only because Gage knew what to expect now. He secretly wished he had listened to Roy. By the time the final jackpot game came, Johnny felt fatigued and cranky. He called the numbers too fast. The ladies all yelled, "Slow down!" He called too slow. They all yelled, "Speed up!" He called the wrong numbers and they yelled words that would make truckers blush.
"I wanna go home," Johnny thought. "This is the worst experience of my life."
"O-65. . . " He paused. "I-30." He paused again. "B-13."
"BINGO!!!" Screamed a squawky, high-pitched voice and Mrs. Tewkesbury's bony hand shot up into the air as if she were at a rock concert.
Johnny's jaw dropped. The old lady had done it. He rubbed his sore shoulder again, but he had to give the lady her due. . . she had done it. . . she was going home with a thousand bucks in her hand.
"I win! I win! Oh. . ." She looked directly at Johnny. "I'm sorry about the purse. You're a sweet young man after all."
Johnny smiled. He tried not to. He was supposed to be angry right now, but this was. . . well. . . either too funny. . . or fate. . . or ironic. . . or something. It was definitely something.
"Johnny!" Chet yelled, angst in his voice. "Johnny! She's collapsed!"
In all the confusion and noise and celebration, Johnny had not seen Mrs. Tewkesbury fall suddenly to the floor. He leapt off the stage and was at her side in seconds, motioning the sudden crowd of onlookers backwards so he could examine her.
"Mrs. Tewkesbury! Mrs. Tewkesbury, can you hear me?" he said, anxiety in his voice. Not panic. His paramedic training had long ago taught him to overcome those kinds of feelings, but he had a genuine anxious feeling for this lady's life. . . the lady who had given his shoulder something to smart about. . . she was just too feisty to die. She had to be.
"Chet! We need a squad dispatched. . . and an ambulance."
"They're on their way," Chet replied. "Can I help?"
Johnny checked for vital signs. "There's no pulse!" he exclaimed, starting CPR, hoping his strength wouldn't damage her feeble-looking frame. He motioned for Chet to do the mouth to mouth, while he concentrated on the chest compressions. "C'mon. . . c'mon Mrs. Tewkesbury. We worked too hard to get you that jackpot. . . c'mon. . ."
Scene 8
"I hate to say I told you so," Roy said, "but, I told you so." He continued polishing the hood of the squad.
"Yeah, I know," Gage said, hating to hear those words. "It was a nightmare, just like you said. I got purses thrown at me. People swore at me. People screamed at me and called me terrible names. You know Roy, I used to think that a politician was the most hated job in the world, but now I know the truth."
Roy smiled. "It's bingo callers."
Johnny laughed, polishing carefully with his left hand. That shoulder still hurt a bit. "Yeah. . . they didn't like me at all. It was like. . . it was like I was deliberately not calling the numbers they wanted and. . . and they hated me. I'll never do it again. And I'll tell you another thing. . . You know that girl?"
"Lindsey," Roy said.
"Yeah. Lindsey. Listen to this. It turns out that Lindsey is first cousins with. . ."
"Daisy," Roy said.
"That slave-driver nurse, Daisy," Johnny said, giving Roy a dirty look. "You knew that? You knew that and you let me go on a date with her?"
"Well. . . I didn't. . . I wasn't. . . I never told you to date her," Roy said, trying to wiggle out of this uncomfortable spot.
Johnny's brown eyes were flashing danger signals now. "You never told me not to date her. . . in fact, you and Joanne set it up so that we both were invited for dinner at your house. . . Roy. . . you set me up!"
"It wasn't my idea. . . Joanne. . ."
Roy never got to finish his thought. Captain Stanley interrupted. "Gage, you have a visitor," he said, presenting a spindly little lady, no more than 4 foot 10 inches, her white hair wrapped tightly on top of her head in a bun.
Johnny put down his chamois. "Mrs. . . Mrs. Tewkesbury," he said, not knowing whether to smile or duck. "What. . . what are you. . . I mean. . . what a surprise! You're out of the hospital so soon?"
She smiled, stretching her short arms out to hug Johnny, who really was a giant in comparison to her. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Gage," she said, squeezing for all she was worth.
Johnny patted her on the back gently, feeling a little nervous, and yet, for some reason, he felt a lump rising in his throat. "You don't have to thank me, Mrs. Tewkesbury. . ."
"Oh yes, I do," she said, letting him go and stepping back. "I was so gruff with you. I said mean things to you all evening and then. . . and then. . . well. . . they told me that you saved my life when I collapsed at the bingo hall. You are a dear, sweet young man and. . . well. . . I could just cry, I'm so grateful."
Johnny smiled. "Don't cry. I was glad to do it. That's. . . that's my job. And you did win the jackpot. I guess you have to learn not to get so. . . excited when you win."
"Oh that," she said. "Yes. I overdid it a bit, and as for the jackpot, I donated it right back into the fireman's fund, in your honour, if you don't mind. It was the least I could do after all you did for me."
Johnny blushed. He didn't know what to do with all this attention. "Well. . . I'm just glad you're ok."
"Well, I know you're all very busy," she said. "So, I won't keep you. I'm heading off with the seniors on a bus trip to Las Vegas. I'm gonna win big this time!"
"Good luck, Ma'am," Johnny said, shaking his head and turning back to his work. What a lady! She was so sweet. He couldn't help thinking what a wonderful grandmother she must. . . "Ouch!"
Gage whirled around in time to see the wry grin on Mrs. Tewkesbury's face as the captain escorted her out of the building.
"What happened?" Roy asked, puzzled.
"I. . . I think. . . Roy. . . she pinched my butt! She's. . . I can't believe that!" Johnny rubbed his sore posterior and his partner doubled over laughing harder than he had in a long time.
Roy couldn't resist. He knew he shouldn't, but he just had to say it. . . "I. . . uh. . . I guess Mrs. Tewkesbury got a bingo!"
"Roy! I don't believe you!"
Roy DeSoto wondered if his partner would even speak to him after a dig like that. After thinking about it for a moment, he decided. . . it was well worth the sacrifice.
The End --- KMG 365
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