The Inspection
By Patricia Embury 

"10-4 Rampart. The ambulance has arrived and we’re ready to transport." John Gage hung up the biophone and readied it for the trip. Roy Desoto closed the drug box as the ambulance attendants pushed the gurney into the cluttered back room of the small grocery store.

"Is he going to be okay?" asked the frightened gray-haired woman standing in the doorway. "He said his chest hurt terribly, and he didn’t look right. It’s his heart, isn’t it?" She anxiously rung her hands as John, Roy and the attendants lifted her husband onto the gurney.

"I’m feeling much better, Martha," said the elderly gentleman. He reached over to clasp her hand.

"That’s always a possibility, but it could be other things, too," replied John. "He’ll be taken to Rampart Emergency, Ma’am." Johnny smiled reassuringly. "The doctors there are the best. You can ride in the front of the ambulance, if you’d like."

"Oh, no, I can’t." The woman shook her head emphatically. "I have to close the store."

Roy placed the cardiac monitor on the foot of the gurney and gave the intravenous bag to one of the attendants. He picked up the biophone. "Are you sure? You’ll have time to lock up now and go with us."

"I’m sure." The woman nodded. "I’ll call my daughter. We won’t take long." She kissed her husband on his forehead, and lovingly pushed a few stray hairs away from his eyes.

Roy nodded and the medics wheeled the stretcher out of the store to the waiting ambulance. A small crowd gathered on the sidewalk in front of the grocery. Roy helped load the stretcher into the ambulance and climbed inside. Johnny handed the drug box to him and closed one of the doors.

"The liquor store we’re supposed to inspect is just up the street," John commented as he held the other door. "I think I’ll check it out while you do the follow-up. It shouldn’t take too long."

"Sounds good, Johnny," replied Roy. "I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. Maybe then we can get some lunch."

"Okay." Johnny grinned as he closed the door of the ambulance and gave it a final pat. He put the remaining equipment back into the squad, then opened the passenger-side door. Johnny pushed his helmet aside and picked up a clipboard from the front seat. He grabbed his H.T. and closed the door. Johnny readied an inspection form as he strolled down the well-maintained block of family-owned businesses. "The Liquor Barn." was located between a small pizzeria and a hardware store. He stopped momentarily in front of "Mama Luigi’s Pizza" and inhaled deeply. Johnny patted his stomach as it growled in protest. Maybe when you’re done. A calzone would sure hit the spot. Small bells tinkled as he entered the liquor store.

"Can I help you?" A thin, middle-aged, black woman with black hair streaked with gray, polished the oak countertop near the front of the store. Sturdy wooden shelves held neat rows of various spirits. Boxes of champagne were stacked to one side of the entrance. A small display of potato chips, pretzels and assorted candy bars stood beside the antique cash register. The scent of lemon polish mixed with the faint odors of wood and liquor. A telephone sat on a shelf behind the counter.

"I’m from the Fire Department," Gage replied. "It’s time for your annual safety inspection."

The woman smiled and shook Johnny’s hand. "I’m Marjorie Williams. My husband, Gary and I own the place. He’s in the back. Please," she gestured towards the rear of the store, "follow me."

Marjorie led Johnny to a medium-sized storeroom. Several boxes were stacked next to the emergency exit and throughout the room. The back door was propped open with a brick. A slight breeze wafted into the cramped room. A solidly built, middle-aged black man with close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair leaned against a small desk. He studied an invoice through a pair of bifocals.

"Gary, Honey?" Marjorie interrupted as Gary looked up. "This is Firefighter.." her voice trailed off as she read Johnny’s nametag.

"Gage, John Gage." Johnny replied as he extended his hand to Gary. "I’m here to do your annual fire inspection."

Gary shook Johnny’s hand. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Please excuse the mess. We just got a delivery, and I’m trying to get everything organized."

"You can stick that invoice in the ledger, and I’ll reconcile it when I’m done up front." Marjorie gestured to the slip of paper Gary held. She smiled at Johnny and left the storeroom.

Gary tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. He looks familiar, but I can’t place it. "You may as well start back here. The basement’s this way." Gary led Johnny down a small staircase.

Johnny quickly examined the wiring, and the service boxes, then checked the tags on the fire extinguisher that hung beside the stairwell. He filled in the form and jotted notes as he inspected each item. "Okay, I’m set down here." Johnny smiled at Gary and followed the older man upstairs. Do I know him? He reminds me of somebody...Nah, couldn’t be. That was a long time ago. He followed Gary upstairs and examined the storeroom. Johnny took more notes as he went along.

"How are we doing so far?" Gary asked expectantly as they stopped a few feet into the main room of the shop.

"So far, so good," replied Johnny. "I’ve only seen a couple of minor problems. Your exit sign is blinking, and you should move some of the boxes away from the fire door. And, please," he glanced at Gary, "don’t prop it open. If you have a fire, the oxygen and the breeze would just give it more fuel to burn." Johnny smiled reassuringly at the owner, then continued his notes. "You’ve got more than enough fire extinguishers, and everything else seems to be in order. I just need to check up front, and I’ll be finished."

Gary sighed in relief as they started towards the front of the store. He gasped and froze in his tracks. A young white male with long, dirty-blonde hair and a goatee stood at the counter. The youth wore a tie-dyed shirt covered by a worn army jacket, ripped jeans, and hiking boots. His arm shook slightly as he pointed a gun at a frightened Marjorie.

Johnny noticed Gary’s sudden stop. He looked up when he heard Gary’s sharp intake of breath.

"A cop?!" The gunman jerked the gun towards the two men. Marjorie pushed the panic button hidden beneath the counter and dove for cover.

"Get down!" Johnny yelled as he shoved Gary to the floor.

The youth quickly fired two rounds. A bottle shattered behind Johnny, sending shards of glass and bourbon spilling onto the tiled floor.

A white-hot pain seared the right side of Johnny’s chest. He heard the clatter of the clipboard hitting the ground. Johnny flew backward into a row of shelves, then fell face down onto the floor. The smell of whiskey filled his nostrils and his chest was on fire. Johnny felt his awareness slipping away.

The gunman stood motionless at the counter, an expression of shock mixed with fear on his face. What?! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! In and out, get the money and run! He cautiously approached the fallen men and stood over Johnny. He trembled slightly as he pointed the gun at the back of Johnny’s head. Is he...dead? The youth lightly kicked Johnny in the ribs, getting no response. Uh-oh. The gunman’s stomach tightened. He kicked Johnny, hard, and sighed in relief when Johnny finally moaned. Thank God. He bent over to search Gage. What?! He’s not a COP, he’s a Fireman! Real smart, Brice. You screwed up BIG time. I’ll bet this guy knows the "Magnificent Craiggie." The gunman ran his free hand through his long, dirty blonde hair. DAMN YOU! "Goddamit!" he kicked Johnny viciously.

Johnny’s eyes snapped open when he felt something snap in his chest. He gasped as another wave of agony spread across his chest. Ribs. Lights danced before his eyes. He shut them tightly when he felt himself being rolled onto his back. Johnny gasped for breath as new misery washed over him. His eyes fluttered open as the pain subsided.

The youth bent over and grabbed Johnny’s shirt, lifting him partially off the floor. "Why didn’t you tell me you were a fireman!" he screamed and shoved Johnny back down. The youth released his hold on Johnny’s shirt and stood over the paramedic. He looked at the blood stains on palms of his hands, then at Johnny’s shirt. A growing red blotch decorated the front of Johnny’s uniform.

Johnny groaned and shook his head. Whoa. Gingerly, he turned slightly onto his left side. "You...never...asked," he panted, the pain from his newly broken ribs subsiding to a constant ache.

"Damn you!" The youth backhanded Johnny across the face with the butt of the gun, knocking Johnny flat onto his back. Droplets of blood from Johnny’s nose and split lip spattered on the paneled wall and mingled with the broken glass and spilled bourbon. The gunman hit Johnny again, opening a deep cut above his left eye. Johnny grabbed the gunman’s wrist to block the next blow. The youth grabbed the gun with his other hand and brutally struck Johnny across the face. A gash opened on Johnny’s right cheek.

The youth reversed his hold on the gun, and pointed it at Johnny. He ran his other hand through his hair while he stared at the paramedic. "Great, just great." The gunman pointed to himself with the gun. "I just shot a fireman." The youth rubbed his chin. "I should have recognized the shirt." He waved the gun at Johnny’s uniform. "My father was a fireman! My cousin is a fireman!" The gunman pointed the gun towards himself as he screamed. "My brother, who can do no wrong, is a fireman!" He paused, and gave Gage another brutal kick. "He’s a Paramedic, just like you!"

His brother, who can’t do anything wrong? No, don’t tell me... it can’t be. Craig Brice would NEVER have a brother like this. Johnny closed his eyes and gasped for air.

Gary grew cold as he glanced at the youth, then at Johnny’s battered face and bloody shirt. My God, that kid’s gonna kill that poor fireman. He cautiously eased himself into a sitting position, and looked up at the youth. "Listen, why don’t you take what you came to get, and leave?" he stated calmly and evenly. He never took his eyes from the gun. "Margie, take some money from the register and put it in a bag for this gentleman."

Marjorie peered over the counter. She visibly paled when she saw the youth hovering over Johnny. She stood slowly and steadied herself against the counter. Marjorie quickly opened the register and stuffed a small wad of bills into a small brown paper sack. She dropped it onto the counter and slowly backed away from the register, hands in the air.

Gary’s glanced at the counter. "The money’s on the counter." He looked at the trembling youth, and gestured towards the counter with his head. Gary refocused his attention on Johnny. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a cotton handkerchief.

Johnny lay on his back with his eyes closed and one leg bent upward. The roaring in his ears subsided as the throbbing in his face and head eased somewhat. He struggled against the desire to relax and drift away in the comforting blackness. Stay awake or someone’s gonna get killed! Johnny tried to force his eyes open, but his left eye only opened part way. He reached up slowly and touched his face. He peered at his fingertips. Blood. Johnny rubbed his hand on his pants and peered at Gary, who nodded imperceptibly at him. Johnny tasted blood, and felt it trickle down the side of his mouth.

"Oh, no you don’t, old man!" The gunman hit Gary across the face with the gun butt, knocking him unconscious. Marjorie screamed, diverting the gunman’s attention. He moved menacingly towards her. She dropped behind the counter and crawled rapidly towards the door. The youth grabbed the paper sack and ran to the end of the counter. He stood over Marjorie, blocking her escape. She stared at the gunman as she sat back onto her knees. The youth pointed the gun at Marjorie’s forehead and pulled the hammer back.

Johnny watched Marjorie raise her hands. NO! He bit his lower lip, and braced his injured side. He grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind him and lobbed it at the gunman. A knife-like pain seared through his body. Johnny rolled onto his left side, gasping for breath.

The bottle shattered on the floor next to the youth. He turned his head to see Johnny propped on one elbow, staring at him. "That’s enough!" He pointed the gun at John, who eased himself to the floor. The youth stormed to Johnny’s side. "You wanna be a hero, Mr. Fireman? You tryin’ to get yourself killed Mr. Fireman?"

Marjorie bolted from the store.

The gunman rushed to the door to see where she had fled. "Dammit!" He saw her talking animatedly to two police officers who stood beside a patrol car parked in front of the neighboring hardware store. Two more police cars, lights flashing, approached from the opposite direction. The gunman walked to where Johnny lay and pushed the gun into Gage’s ribcage. The youth locked eyes with John. "You bastard! Always the hero, just like my brother!"

Johnny glared at the gunman. Stupid kid. Wordlessly, he spat in his face.

The youth furiously wiped the mixture of blood and saliva from around his mouth and nose, and spat repeatedly on the floor. He pressed the gun against Johnny’s temple. A buzz of static filled the air. "What the hell was that?"

"Squad 51 this is H.T. 51. Come in Squad 51." A moment of silence passed. "Firefighter DeSoto calling Firefighter Gage, come in Gage."

The gunman scratched his goatee. He lowered the gun and stared at the wounded paramedic. Gage, DeSoto? Craig mentioned their names a few times in the past. I wonder if this is the one he said was so annoying. I can’t remember who irked Craig the most.

Roy DeSoto walked into the Doctor’s Lounge. Doctor Morton and Doctor Brackett intently watched a news bulletin on television.

"Hi, Roy," Doctor Morton greeted the paramedic. "I didn’t know you were still here."

"Yeah," Roy nodded. He glanced at the activity on the television screen, then at Doctor Morton. "Johnny’s doing a fire inspection. He was supposed to meet me in the cafeteria, but he hasn’t shown up yet. I thought he might be in here." He never answered me on the radio, either. I wonder if something’s wrong, or if he forgot his H.T. again? Roy gestured at the television with his Handie-Talkie. "What’s going on?"

"Possible customers," Doctor Morton replied.

"My colleague is referring to what sounds like an armed robbery gone wrong," explained Doctor Brackett. He twitched his mouth and gestured at the television with his coffee mug. "Shots have been fired, and there are hostages being held."

"Where?" asked Roy, studying the screen.

"Some liquor store." Doctor Morton leaned towards the television to get a better view. He adjusted the tint as a long range shot of several police cars blocking a tree-lined street appeared on the screen. Officers crouched behind their car doors; their weapons pointed at the store. Doctor Morton squinted and pointed at the screen. "I could be wrong, but isn’t that your Squad? "

Roy peered at the screen. A cold lump formed in his stomach. He could make out the number "51" on the rear of the rescue squad parked in the foreground of the picture. "Yeah. " Roy pointed to the store to the left of the Squad. "That’s the grocery owned by our cardiac patient." He paused. "We were supposed to inspect a liquor store on that street," Roy said softly. "Johnny volunteered to do it while I rode in with the patient."

Doctor Morton and Doctor Brackett exchanged glances. Brackett flashed a sympathetic smile. "I’m sure he’s all right. Johnny’s got a good head on his shoulders." He turned back to the television as the street reporter faced the camera. "Wait a minute, looks like there’s a report starting."

Roy nodded and listened intently.

"Details are sketchy at this time, but sources say that at least two shots were fired, and two hostages remain in the store. A third hostage, reportedly the wife of the store’s owner, has escaped. Police sources told us that at least one of the remaining hostages, a Los Angeles County firefighter, may have been wounded. We do not know the extent of his injuries. We’ll bring you more details as they become available. This is Colleen Magnussen, from KTLA news."

A chill passed through Roy and settled in a lump in his stomach. God...Johnny. His Handie-Talkie beeped.

"Squad 51, what is your status?"

Roy fumbled with the H.T. "Ah, Squad 51 on a follow-up to Rampart General."

"Squad 51, 10-4." replied the dispatcher.

The tones sounded over the Handie-Talkie. "Engine 51, Squad 10 for Squad 51. Assist with police investigation. 1551 Market Street, One-five-five-one Market. Cross street, Culver. Time out, 13:10."

The room was uncomfortably silent. The three men looked at each other. Doctor Brackett stood. "I’ll let Dixie know. We’d better get ready."

"I guess I’d better call Joanne," Roy said softly. "Let her know I’m okay."

"Doctor Morton nodded. "Listen, Roy..." He paused. "Johnny might not be hurt too badly. Like Kel said, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Plus, he’s got the constitution of a horse."

Roy nodded, but the cold lump remained in the pit of his stomach. "I hope you’re right."

"So, which one are you, Gage or DeSoto?" the gunman kicked the Handie-Talkie across the room.

"Gage. John Gage." Johnny glared at the gunman. "Why?"

"Just thought I’d heard the name before." He shrugged. "My brother tells a lot of stories."

"Who’s your brother?" Johnny asked. He wet his swollen lips, and tasted more blood. "If he’s a paramedic, I probably know him."

"Craig Brice," the gunman replied, smiling wanly. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I know him." Johnny struggled to find the right words. "He’s...quite a guy." It IS Brice’s brother. How did "The Walking Rulebook" get a brother like THIS guy?

"Yeah." The gunman paced nervously in the aisle. "He’s always informing us about the people he’s rescued, the lives he’s saved." The youth stopped in front of Johnny and waved the gun. "My parents think he’s wonderful." Craig’s brother brushed his dirty hair back with his free hand. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from a nearby shelf and opened it. He took a long drink before continuing. "They tell me I should be more like him." He raised his voice an octave, and said mockingly, ‘"Don’t waste your time painting. You’ll never sell anything."’ His agitation increased with each sentence. ‘"You’ll starve."’ Brice resumed pacing. ‘"Get a real job.’ ‘Work for the County, like your brother.’ ‘Do something valuable, like your brother."’ Brice’s voice returned to normal range. He screamed "Do you know how it makes me feel?"

Gage shook his head. I haven’t told my parents much of anything. Hell, I haven’t talked to my father in what...five, six years? He closed his eyes for a moment. Gotta rest a minute. Breathing...feels worse. John opened his eyes and watched the youth take another long drink. He glanced at Gary, who opened his eyes and winked at John.

The ring of the telephone broke the silence. The gunman shook Gary’s shoulder. "Get up, old man! Answer the phone."

Gary slowly stood and walked behind the counter. He picked up the receiver. "Liquor Barn, Gary Williams speaking." He moved the phone cradle from the shelf to the front counter.

"This is Lieutenant Louis Morgan from the L.A.P.D. We have the store surrounded. With whom am I speaking?"

"I’m the owner of the store."

"Are you injured.?"

"No."

"Is the other hostage injured?"

"Yes."

"How bad?"

"It looks pretty bad. He’s been shot and..."

The gunman impatiently grabbed the phone. "I’ll kill them both if I don’t get what I want."

"This is Lieutenant Morgan from the L.A.P.D. You’re surrounded. Throw the gun out of the front door and come out with your hands up. Don’t make this any worse on yourself."

"No way!" Brice’s brother took another gulp of whisky. "You’re gonna get me a car full of gas, and free ride outta here, or the old man and the fireman are dead!" The gunman slammed the receiver onto its cradle. He motioned for Gary to step away from the counter.

Gary walked past the entrance to the storeroom. He glanced through the open fire door and noticed a member of the S.W.A.T. team crouched behind the dumpster. The officer aimed a rifle into the room. Gary nonchalantly sat next to Johnny. He leaned over and whispered. "Hold on. Looks like the cavalry’s here."

Johnny winced as he smiled slightly. "That’s usually...bad news...for my people."

Gary looked puzzled, but then smiled. He glanced up front as Craig’s brother took a bag of potato chips from the small snack display near the cash register. "Sorry. My mother was an Indian. We owned a grocery store on one of the reservations. Where are you from?"

"Lame Deer, Montana. "

I knew it! "Hey!" Gary whispered excitedly. "You’re one of Bob and Annie’s boys." THAT’S why I recognized him. He’s little Johnny Gage! "I THOUGHT I knew you from somewhere." His folks raised horses and some cattle. He was on the track team. The day he left Montana, he came into the store to say good-bye. Later that afternoon, Bob came in to get something. He looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he’d been crying. We’d heard what happened at the graduation party, and afterwards. Gary shook his head. Mars Bars were always Johnny’s favorite. He always stared at the candy rack, and would say "hey, Candy Man, got any Mars Bars?

Johnny studied Gary for a moment, then smiled tiredly. Hey, it’s the Candy Man! "Yeah. You slipped us...Tootsie Rolls and stuff...when my mom wasn’t looking." He glanced down at his bloody shirt, then back at Gary. He also found me and patched me up that time I got jumped by those guys from that track team. They were pissed ‘cause I beat their star runner in the finals to make the statewide competition.

"My mom also gave you candy after your language lessons," Gary whispered.

Johnny tried to smile. "She was a nice lady." She was really surprised when my father asked her to teach us, since he wasn’t a traditionalist. But, she didn’t care. She was thrilled to do it. It’s been so long, I’m not sure I could put three words together now. "We really made out in the candy department."

The phone rang again.

The gunman gestured towards the phone with the gun. "Get it, old man, and no funny stuff."

Gary climbed to his feet and walked to the counter. "Liquor Barn. Gary speaking."

"This is Lieutenant Morgan. We hope to get you out very soon. How are you and the injured hostage doing?"

Gary shrugged, then glanced at Johnny. He looks like crap. Beads of sweat glistened on Johnny’s forehead, and the fresh cuts and bruises masked his increasing pallor. "We’re hangin’ in there, I guess."

"Good," sighed Lieutenant Morgan. "Please put the gunman on the phone,"

"It’s the police, Mister Brice. They want to talk to you." Gary held out the receiver.

The youth swigged more scotch and grabbed the phone. "Is my car ready?"

"It’ll take a little while to get one, but it is on the way. Mister...Brice? What can I call you?"

"My name’s Josh... Josh Brice." He held the bottle up and saw only a small amount of amber liquid at the very bottom.

"Josh, I’m Lou. Lou Morgan. We’re willing to work with you on this, but you have to help us out. Are you with me?"

"Yeah," Josh shrugged.

"Release one of the hostages when the car arrives. We did our part. We’re giving you a way out. Now it’s your turn."

"No way!" Josh shouted in a firm voice. "How stupid do you think I am? These two are my ticket to freedom!"

"I never said you were stupid, Josh," Lieutenant Morgan replied patiently, "but you have to do your part. Releasing a hostage will show us that you’re not such a bad guy."

"I’m not releasing anybody until I’m outta here!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. Still, I need you to do something to show that we can trust you."

"Like what?"

"I know one of the hostages is hurt. We have paramedics out here. If you won’t release him, at least let somebody look at him."

"I don’t want to see any more Goddamned paramedics!" Josh paced the radius of the receiver cord. "My brother is bad enough!" He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his worn army surplus jacket. "Get us a pepperoni pizza!" He slammed the receiver down and gestured for Gary to return to his seat.

Gary noticed track marks on Josh’s briefly exposed arm. He looked at Johnny, who had propped himself up against the wall of shelves behind him. The dark red stain soaked through a larger part of his uniform shirt. His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the edge of a shelf. Gary picked up a clean rag from beneath the counter and sat beside Johnny. He gently pressed the rag against the bullet wound.

Johnny winced and opened his eyes. "Thanks," he mouthed.

Roy stared at the television set. Come on, what’s taking them so long. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch for a moment. God, if you’re there, keep Johnny safe. His eyes snapped open, and he focused on the television as another news bulletin interrupted the soap opera. Craig Brice and his temporary partner, Ed Newfield, entered the lounge.

"Good afternoon, DeSoto, " Craig said cheerily as he headed towards the coffee pot. "Taking a break from pulling cats out of trees while the real firemen do all the work?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "Hi, Roy."

"Brice. Ed...," Roy pointed to the television screen. "Johnny’s inside that liquor store."

Ed nodded. "We heard about it at our last run, but didn’t know who was inside," he replied sympathetically. He sat beside Roy on the couch. "Johnny’s a good guy," Ed continued as the anchorman’s face filled the screen. "If anyone can pull through this in one piece, it’s Gage."

"Let’s hope his mouth doesn’t get him killed," Brice commented as he leaned against the table.

Ed shot Craig a dirty look.

Roy sat straighter on the sofa. Chalk another one up for Brice, "Mr. Tactful". He opened his mouth, but Dixie peeked her head into the lounge. "Craig, there’s a call for you at the base station." She looked at Roy as Craig brushed passed her. "Any news?"

"There’s a report just starting." Roy pointed at the screen.

Dixie stepped into the room as the street reporter started speaking. "We’ve received some information about the alleged gunman. He is a white male, approximately nineteen to twenty years of age, by the name of Joshua Brice. Thus far, his only alleged demands have been for a car, and a pepperoni pizza. He has allegedly refused police requests to release the hostages, or to let the wounded hostage receive medical attention. Police are attempting to contact his family."

"Oh God," Ed muttered.

Roy looked at Dixie in amazement. Brice’s brother? .

Craig opened the lounge door and walked a few steps inside. He flexed his jaw and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Dixie put a comforting hand on his arm.

Craig stared at Ed. "We have to go, Newfield," he said emotionlessly.

"I’m sorry, Craig." Roy said.

Craig nodded. "I’m sorry too, DeSoto. Come on, you can ride with us."

Josh drained the last drops of the whisky and threw the bottle into the far corner, where it shattered. He grabbed a second bottle and placed it on the counter. Josh opened the bag of money, and dropped a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change, old man." He laughed as he unscrewed the cap. "I guess I should pay you for this one." Josh frowned when he noticed Gary applying pressure to Johnny’s chest wound. He walked over to them and grabbed the bloody handkerchief from Gary’s hand. He tossed it aside and slapped Gary across the face. "None of that, old man!"

"He’ll die soon, if he doesn’t stop bleeding," Gary replied tersely. "You’ll be charged with murder."

"I don’t care!" screamed Josh. He knelt down to face Gary and John. "It...doesn’t...matter!" I have no life, anyway.

Johnny opened his eyes. "What...doesn’t...matter?"

"Everything! Nothing! My life!" cried Josh. He took a long drink from the bottle, then waved the gun at both John and Gary. "Maybe my parents were right. They all hate me. I can’t even rob a goddamned liquor store!"

"They can’t all hate you." Gary said.

"Craig’s ...bragged.....about you," said Johnny.

"You’re lying!" Josh stood quickly and kicked Johnny in the stomach. Craig’s never bragged about a DAMN thing, ESPECIALLY me.

Johnny fell onto his left side and gasped for breath. He protectively clutched his abdomen as he fought to control his building nausea. "I’m....not...lying," John gasped. "He said...you’re...the next...Picasso."

"Bullshit!" Josh cried as he kicked Johnny in the midsection again.

Johnny’s arms fell limply at his side as he tried to curl into a ball. His eyes grew wide and his breaths came in short rasps.

"He doesn’t give a damn! None of them do!" He kicked Johnny in the chest. "I’m an inconvenience! An embarrassment!" They probably wish I’d never been born! Josh grabbed Johnny’s shirt and pulled the paramedic up until his face was inches away from his own. "They...don’t...care!" he screamed. Josh shoved Johnny to the floor and hit him across the face with the gun butt. You hotshots in your blue uniforms. You think you’re such hot shit...but, look at you now!

Johnny fell onto his back. His nausea blended into a sharp blur with the pain from his chest wound, his battered face, and his newly broken ribs. He rolled onto his side and retched uncontrollably.

"Get away from him, old man!" Josh yelled as Gary moved closer to Johnny. Josh swung wildly at Gary, but missed and staggered slightly towards the counter. He regained his balance and stood over Johnny who still retched. Yeah, "Mr. Paramedic" with all the people you save, you can’t do a damn thing to save yourself! What makes you think you can save me? Save me? Where did THAT come from?

A small puddle of bloody emesis mixed with the spilled bourbon. After a few moments, Johnny’s retching subsided. He looked up at Josh with one bleary eye, then closed it. Blood dripped from the side of his mouth.

"Lieutenant, there’s movement." Vince handed a pair of binoculars to Lieutenant Morgan. The Lieutenant watched as the figure of the gunman loomed over one of the hostages.

"He’s losing it." Damn! I don’t want a firefight. He could shoot at least one of the hostages before we can get in there, but we might have to risk it. "We’ll have to move in sooner than later." Lieutenant Morgan lowered the binoculars. He picked up his radio. "Alpha Leader to team, prepare to move on my mark." He turned to Vince. "Has the brother shown up yet?"

"He should be here any time now." Vince saw Squad 16 park behind Engine 51. "Wait a minute, he just arrived." He watched Craig, Roy and Ed emerge from the squad.

Maybe the brother can convince him to surrender. Lieutenant Morgan keyed his radio, "Alpha Leader to team, stand by for further instructions."

###

"Ed," Hank Stanley greeted the paramedics, "Roy, Brice, are you guys okay?"

Ed nodded. Brice remained expressionless.

"How bad is it?" asked Roy as he chewed his lower lip.

Hank put his hands on his hips. "We don’t know. The storeowner’s wife," he gestured towards Marjorie, who paced anxiously on the sidewalk, "said that the robber mistook Gage for a cop. He shot and pistol-whipped him." Hank shook his head. "He would have killed her too, but Johnny created a diversion so she could escape. They’re trying to talk to him, but they may have to go in after him. If they use tear gas, they’ll need us." Hank looked at Brice, who visibly stiffened. "I’m really sorry about all this, Brice. The Lieutenant thinks you might be able to get through to your brother." Hank clapped Craig on the shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thank you Captain Stanley," replied Craig. I’ll need all the luck I can get. "Where should I go?" I hope they don’t have to shoot Josh.

Hank pointed towards the car Lieutenant Morgan and Vince stood behind. "They’re over there."

###

Vince watched as Brice, Roy and Ed approached. He nudged Lieutenant Morgan. "The suspect’s brother is the one in the lead." Vince nodded a greeting at the three paramedics, and held his arm out to Brice. "This is Craig Brice. He’s also paramedic."

"Vince, Lieutenant, " Craig’s voice cracked slightly. "Has he said anything else, done anything else?" I was afraid something like this might happen when I heard he was on drugs.

"I’m Lieutenant Lou Morgan of the L.A.P.D.," Morgan shook Craig’s hand. "Thank you for coming." He sighed and scratched his head. "To answer your question, I’m afraid conditions are beginning to deteriorate. We’ve decided to give in to his demand for a pizza, and Mama Luigi’s just took it out of the oven. We’re getting a vehicle from the impound lot, and we’re hoping we can talk him into surrendering. If not, we may have to take him on the way to the car. If he uses the hostages as a shield, we’ll have to tail them and capture him at the first opportunity. So far, he hasn’t been receptive to any of our overtures, and he’s had another violent outburst."

Roy and Ed exchanged worried glances.

"If he has another outburst," continued Lieutenant Morgan, "we’ll have to go in after him. That’s the last thing we want to do, since I don’t want to risk hurting either him or the hostages."

"What can I do?" asked Craig.

"Talk to him." replied the Lieutenant. "Tell him we have the food. See if you can get him to listen to you. At least see if he’ll let us get somebody in there to check the condition of the hostages."

Craig nodded. He picked up the receiver of the portable phone as the Lieutenant dialed the number.

Josh answered the phone on the second ring. "So, do you have my car?"

"Josh...it’s Craig. Your pizza is here, the car will be shortly." Craig paused to clear his throat. "Um, What’s going on, Buddy?"

"So now I’m your buddy, is that it?" Josh wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve. "If all I had to do to be your buddy was to knock off a liquor store, I would have done it a lot sooner." Hypocritical bastard.

"Quit messing around, Josh," Craig said firmly. "This is serious."

"Yeah, this is serious. I’m serious. Have someone bring the pizza to the front door. Unarmed. No funny business or I’ll finish off your friend." He glanced at the unconscious paramedic. Then they’ll ALL know how serious I am.

"You wouldn’t do that," Craig said persuasively. "I know you better."

"No, you don’t," Josh insisted. "You don’t know me at all. None of you do. You think you’re the expert at everything. But you’re not." Mom and Dad always liked you better. All they gave me was shit.

"Let’s talk about this. Let me come in, so we can talk. Josh..." Craig sighed, his voice gained an edge. "Time is running out. Exchange me for one of the hostages. At least let somebody look at Gage. This isn’t a game, Buddy. These guys have real guns with real bullets, and they’ll use them."

"No! Bring the pizza, and the car, and I promise I won’t embarrass my beloved family any more." Josh hung up the phone and wiped his mouth on the edge of his sleeve. He motioned for Gary to stand. "They’re bringing the food. Go to the door and get it." Josh aimed the gun at Johnny. "No heroics, or else."

###

"He wants the pizza," Craig said as he hung up the phone. He shook his head. "I tried. I...don’t think I got through to him." He shook his head in disgust. "He sounded drunk."

Lieutenant Morgan patted Craig on the shoulder. "Here’s the pizza." He beckoned to an officer who rushed over with the box.

Craig took the box from the officer and sniffed the steam wafting from the opening at the top. Josh always loved pepperoni. Maybe once he gets some food in him, he’ll sober up and see the folly in all of this.

"Get him talking," instructed the Lieutenant. "Maybe if he sees you, you’ll be able to get through to him."

"Good luck," Roy said softly.

Craig nodded and walked towards the liquor store.

###

Gary opened the front door of the shop, and propped it with his foot. Josh stood halfway between the opened door, and Johnny.

Craig brought the pizza to the door and handed it to Gary. He craned his head to get a better look inside. He could barely make out Johnny’s limp form. Craig raised his hands.

Josh walked towards the door. "Craig," he shook his head, "I should have guessed they’d have you deliver the food. I suppose you’ll give me a lecture on how it’ll go better for me if I surrender, right."

"No, Josh," Craig shook his head. "I’m not here to lecture you." My God, you’ve really sunk to a new low. Craig studied Josh’s stringy, matted hair and wrinkled clothes. You must be into the drug scene pretty heavily. The old Josh wouldn’t have let himself go to hell like that. His gaze fell on the gun, which was now pointed at Gary. "Josh?" Craig said, half in surprise, half in question. "What happened? Where have you been for the past six months?" He made an all-encompassing gesture with his arms. "Why?"

"I’ve been around." Josh shrugged. "Funny, nobody seemed to care until now."

"That’s not true," Craig insisted. "We’ve been worried sick about you. We’ve been trying to find you." He sighed. "Please, give yourself up, Buddy. We can help you!"

"Yeah, right," Josh said flatly. "You don’t wanna help me. You just wanna be a big hero," he gestured to Johnny with his gun, "like your friend over there. This?" he waved the gun in a large circle. "A guy has to eat."

Craig pointed at Johnny. "Why did you shoot him, Josh? At least let me check him out."

"He surprised me. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted the money." Josh paused, then raised his voice angrily. "Enough with the twenty questions! Go away! Get outta my life!" Josh waved the gun at Gary. "Get in there, old man." Josh backed into the store.

The door closed, leaving Craig on the outside. Damn! Craig dropped his hands dejectedly and returned to the police line.

###

Josh watched Craig until he disappeared behind a police car.

Gary put the pizza box on the counter and sat beside Johnny. He gazed at Josh, who stuffed a slice of pizza into his mouth.

"Pepperoni’s my favorite," Josh mumbled between bites. "That’s one thing my dear brother and I could agree on. You want some, old man?"

"No, thanks," replied Gary impassively. He glanced at the unconscious paramedic. "I had lunch earlier."

Josh looked around and beneath the box. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Got any napkins?"

"In the back." Gary pointed towards the storage area. He felt Johnny stir, and looked down at him.

Johnny glanced at Josh, then put his finger to his lips in a quieting gesture.

"Where are they?" Josh demolished the piece in two quick bites, then rubbed his hand on his pants. "Come with me," he ordered.

"They’re right on top of the desk." Gary stood and looked curiously at Johnny. What is he up to?

Johnny closed his eyes as Josh directed Gary into the back.

"Alpha Three to Leader. The subject has moved into the storeroom with one of the hostages. I have a clear shot. Should I take him down?"

"Not yet. Shoot only if he appears to harm the hostage."

Not much time left. Johnny fought dizziness and nausea as he crawled towards the storeroom entrance. He stopped at one side of the opening, curled into a ball, and waited.

"Come on, old man, where are they?" Josh asked impatiently.

Gary opened a small box sitting on the desk. He pulled out a package of pre-printed cocktail napkins. "The latest promotion." Gary opened the package and offered several napkins to Josh.

Josh grabbed one from Gary’s hand and wiped his fingers.

Gary leaned to one side as the gun bobbled up and down with Josh’s wiping motion.

Josh tossed the dirty napkin into the trash and grabbed the rest of the package from Gary. "Let’s go. You lead the way." He motioned to the storeroom door with his gun.

Johnny watched Gary step through the opening. As Josh started through, Johnny entangled Josh’s legs with his own. Josh fell face first on the hard tile floor. The gun and the napkins flew out of his hands.

"Alpha Three to Leader. The subject is down." Excitement built in the officer’s voice. "I repeat, the subject is down."

"Roger Three." Lieutenant Morgan’s voice crackled in the officer’s earpiece. "Alpha Leader to Team, move in and secure the subject."

The S.W.A.T officer rushed to one side of the door. He was joined by a second officer at the opposite side of the door. The second officer glanced inside and nodded quickly. The officers rushed inside the building.

Lieutenant Morgan grabbed his rifle and motioned to Vince. "We’re going."

Craig stared dejectedly at the pavement.

"Don’t worry, we won’t hurt him unless it’s absolutely necessary." Lieutenant Morgan clapped Craig on the shoulder. "You tried." He sprinted towards the liquor store.

I tried...but I failed. Craig blinked rapidly to stop the tears. One of the most important, if not THE most important thing I ever had to do, and I failed. God, I hope they don’t kill him.

Roy shuddered involuntarily and put his hand on Craig’s shoulder.

"Shit!" Josh tried to untangle himself from Johnny’s legs. He kicked his legs free and crawled towards the gun.

Gary kicked the gun towards the front of the store, then booted Josh in the mid-section.

Josh gasped and swung wildly with his arm.

Gary easily avoided the punch and quickly knelt beside Johnny.

Josh crawled towards the gun.

Johnny’s eyes were open, and pain etched his features. Strands of his black hair were matted against his sweat-drenched forehead.

Gary grabbed several of the spilled napkins, and pressed them against John’s chest wound. "Easy, Johnny," he said soothingly. "It’ll be okay. Help’s coming."

Josh lunged for the gun as members of the S.W.A.T team burst through the store’s front door and the storeroom entrance. Vince grabbed the gun as Josh reached for it.

"Stay right where you are son." Lieutenant Morgan aimed his rifle at Josh’s head. "Keep your hands where I can see them." He glanced at Vince. "Cuff him while I read him his rights."

Vince handed the gun to one of the S.W.A.T. officers, then quickly searched Josh. He secured Josh’s hands behind his back. The S.W.A.T. officer helped Vince pulled Josh to his feet while the Lieutenant recited Josh’s Miranda rights.

Josh glared at Johnny, and lashed out with his feet. "Gotta be the hero, just like my brother!" Vince and the S.W.A.T officer pulled Josh back. "I should have killed you when I had the chance. Just you wait," He sneered, then spat at Johnny.

Johnny locked his bleary eyes with Josh. "I’ll...be...here." He groaned involuntarily and shuddered. Getting... so...cold.

Vince and the S.W.A.T. officer led the still-struggling Josh out of the store.

"Dispatch, this is Alpha Leader," Lieutenant Morgan spoke into his radio. "The suspect is in custody and the scene is secure." He switched frequencies. "Captain Stanley, send in the paramedics." He knelt beside Gary and felt John’s neck. The pulsations were rapid and weak. "Hang in there. Help’s coming."

Gary put his hand on Johnny’s cool, clammy forehead. "He would have shot you if he had reached that gun."

Johnny nodded and closed his eyes momentarily. One side of his mouth raised in a grin when he opened his eyes again. "Hey...Candy...Man...got...any...Mars Bars?" Johnny groaned and turned his head restlessly from side to side, then passed out.

"I’ll buy you a case of them," muttered Gary. He felt hands helping him to his feet and found Captain Stanley and Roy standing on either side of him. "I just have a cut on my head. You take damn good care of him." Gary’s voice cracked with emotion. He pointed at Johnny. "I knew that boy’d turn out all right."

"You two know each other?" Captain Stanley asked with surprise in his voice.

Lieutenant Morgan stood up and changed places with Roy.

Gary nodded. "I’ve known him since he was a baby."

"Let’s give them room to work," Lieutenant Morgan put his arm on Gary’s elbow. He looked down at Johnny, then glanced at Roy who palpated John’s neck. I don’t think he’ll make it. Just because some punk wanted a fix, this guy has to lose his life over it. "Come on, Sir, your wife is outside. She’s pretty eager to see you." He guided Gary out of the store.

###

"Josh?" Craig walked beside Vince as Josh was escorted to a waiting police car.

Josh sneered at Craig.

"Are you hurt?" Craig asked, keeping pace with the officers. Thank God. He looks okay. "Don’t say anything to them Josh. We’ll get you a lawyer. A good one. Mother and Father can afford it." He watched Vince opened the rear door of the squad car. "Maybe the judge will let us get you into a drug treatment program."

"Get in the car," ordered the S.W.A.T. officer.

Josh sat on the seat, then swung his legs inside. He stared stonily at the front of the cruiser.

The officer slammed the door shut. "He’s all yours, Vince."

"Thanks, Charlie," Vince replied. He patted Craig on the shoulder, then headed towards the driver’s side.

Craig knocked on the window. "Josh?" his voice cracked slightly.

Josh stared straight ahead.

"I...I...I love you, Buddy," Craig stammered. He put his hands on his hips and watched the patrol car pull away. He turned towards the squad and saw Gary hug a tearful Marjorie. Ed stood beside Lieutenant Morgan holding the trauma box, smiling. Craig rubbed his eyes and stared at the liquor store. Should I go in? He looked at the pavement and shook his head. Nah. That’s probably the last place they’d want to see me.

Roy helped Rick and Dave, the paramedics from Squad 10, roll Johnny onto his back. The lump in his stomach twisted into a hard knot when he saw Johnny’s injuries.

Rick wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Johnny’s arm while Dave gathered dressing supplies.

"Jeez," Chet commented softly as he set the oxygen down beside Roy.

"Yeah," Roy replied flatly. "Get the oxygen on him, Chet."

Chet nodded and placed the non-rebreather mask over John’s face. He cranked the knob until he heard a steady hiss.

Roy cut away Johnny’s uniform shirt and carefully opened it. He gently put his hand on Johnny’s bruised abdomen to count his respirations.

Hank set up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 10."

"Go ahead, 10." Dr. Brackett’s voice sounded over the speaker.

"Rampart," said Hank, "we have a male firefighter, age 25, who sustained a gunshot wound to the right chest. He appears to have been beaten about the face, head and chest during an armed robbery." Hank struggled to maintain his composure as he looked at Johnny’s exposed chest. "Ah...the victim is unconscious, and appears to have lost a considerable amount of blood. Stand by for vital signs."

"Pulse is 128," reported Rick, "B.P. is 78 over 40, respirations..."

"36 and labored," reported Roy. "He appears to have rib fractures bilaterally. There are multiple contusions and lacerations about the face and trunk."

Hank wrote down the vital signs. Rick grabbed the biophone and repeated the information. "We have applied a pressure dressing, and have him on oxygen, Rampart."

"Squad 10, is there an exit wound?"

"Did you guys see one when we turned him?" asked Rick.

"No," answered Dave as he grabbed an I.V. needle and a bag of Lactated Ringer’s.

"Neither did I," Roy shook his head. He put the E.K.G. patches on Johnny’s chest and activated the Datascope.

"Negative, Rampart," replied Rick. "Request permission to start an I.V."

"10-4, Squad 10. Start two I.V.s. Run the first with Lactated Ringer’s and the second with Normal Saline, I want them both wide open. Transport immediately."

"10-4, Rampart. I.V.s with Ringer’s and Saline both wide open, then transport."

Roy and Dave started the ordered I.V.s. Hank opened the door and beckoned the ambulance attendants inside. They lifted Johnny onto the stretcher and wheeled him out of the store.

"Chet," directed Hank, "I need you to drive our squad to Rampart."

"Right, Cap," said Chet. He stared at the streaks of blood mixed with the bourbon and glass fragments on the floor, then looked at Hank. "Why?" He shook his head. "Why would anyone just shoot somebody like that?" Chet’s eyes glistened.

"I wish I knew, Chet." Hank sighed and pushed up the brim of his helmet. "I wish I knew."

###

Craig watched forlornly as Johnny was placed into the ambulance.

"Come on, Craig." Ed walked over to where Craig stood. "Don’t kick yourself. You did the best you could." Together they watched Roy climb into the ambulance and take the drug box from Dave. Dave closed the door and gave it a firm tap. The ambulance sped away, lights flashing and siren blaring.

Craig shook his head. "No, Newfield. I didn’t." He sighed and walked to the squad.

###

Come on, Johnny. Don’t quit on me now! Roy removed the stethoscope from his ears and put his fingers on the crook of Johnny’s elbow. We’re almost at Rampart. Roy deflated the blood pressure cuff. "B.P’s down to 70 palp. Heart rate’s 120." You’ve already been through the worst.

Rick transmitted the vitals.

"Squad 10, what’s your E.T.A?" Brackett’s voice sounded over the biophone.

"Rampart," Rick peered through the small window, "our E.T.A. is approximately five minutes."

"10-4, 10. Start a third I.V. with Lactated Ringer’s and infuse wide open. Draw labs for a CBC, type and crossmatch, coagulation studies, and a set of electrolytes, then rush them to the lab upon arrival."

Rick acknowledged the instructions, then drew the bloodwork when he started the I.V. As they made the final turn to Rampart, the view on the Datascope changed from a rapid rate to a few slow spikes.

Roy palpated Johnny’s neck. "No pulse!" He removed the non-rebreather mask from Johnny’s face and put the resuscitator mask on. "Hold this, Malcolm."

The ambulance attendant held the resuscitator mask in position. Johnny’s chest rose and fell with the forced breaths.

"Trachea’s deviated," reported Rick as he put his stethoscope in his ears and moved it across Johnny’s chest. "No breath sounds on the right. He’s probably got a lot of blood in there." He started chest compressions.

Roy grabbed a large I.V. needle and palpated two spaces down from the middle of Johnny’s clavicle. "Hold compressions."

Rick paused, his hands still poised over the lower third of Johnny’s breastbone.

Roy swabbed the area and quickly inserted the needle into Johnny’s chest to release the trapped air that crushed Johnny’s lung. He heard a rush of air from the needle, then put his fingers on Johnny’s neck. Roy blinked back tears of relief as John’s pulse throbbed beneath his bloody fingers.

###

Doctor Brackett, Dixie, and Doctor Morton met the ambulance at the door.

"He dropped his lung and went out on us," reported Rick. "He was pulseless for about two minutes, max."

They rushed around the corner into room two, which had been prepared for their arrival. Rick handed the blood tubes to Dave, who ran them to the lab. Rick and Roy helped move Johnny over to the gurney.

Doctor Brackett removed his lab coat and pushed up his sleeves. "Let’s get him intubated, and where’s that chest tube tray, Dix?"

Dixie wheeled a tray over to Doctor Brackett’s side. "Right here, Kel."

"Call the Blood Bank and have them send up a cooler of O-negative," Brackett ordered. He unwrapped the tray and donned the sterile gloves. "I want at least four units to start."

"Right, Kel." Dixie walked over to the phone and dialed as Carol walked into the room.

Brackett deftly inserted a chest tube. Blood drained into a small container beside the bed. "How are his vitals?"

Carol smiled at Roy. "Pulse is 120, B.P. is 80/40."

"He’s tubed, Kel." Doctor Morton steadied the endotracheal tube as he gave Johnny breaths with an ambu bag. Dixie taped the tube in place.

Dave and Carol entered the treatment room; each held a unit of blood. Dixie and Carol started the transfusions as the x-ray tech pushed the bulky portable unit into the room.

"Is the O.R. ready?" asked Dr. Morton.

"I’ll check," offered Carol. She picked up the receiver of the wall phone and dialed the number. She spoke briefly and hung up. "They said that they’re ready when you are."

"Great," said Brackett as he removed his gloves. He stood beside Roy and watched the x-ray tech position the hard, flat x-ray film plates beneath Johnny.

"Will he make it, Doc?" Roy asked softly. He stared at the rapidly collecting blood draining from Johnny’s chest.

Brackett sighed as he washed his hands. "I don’t know, Roy." He looked back at Johnny as he dried his hands. "I just don’t know. It’ll be very close." He twitched his mouth. "I don’t remember from his last hospitalization, but does Johnny have any family in the area?"

"There’s an aunt." Roy shrugged. "He’s never said too much about his family."

"You’d better call her." Brackett glanced at Rick and Dave. "I’ll come talk to you after the surgery’s over." He picked up his lab coat and left the treatment room.

"X-ray," the technician stood a few paces away from the bed and looked expectantly at the three paramedics.

"Come on, Roy." Rick put a comforting arm on Roy’s shoulder. "Let’s see if we can find a phone."

Roy nodded and glanced briefly at Johnny as he paused at the door. Hang in there...partner.

"It’s okay, Johnny," said a deep, calming voice. "Take it easy, Son. You’re okay. Annie, get the nurse."

Johnny lay back on the hospital bed as the coughing spasm subsided. He opened his eyes as much as the facial swelling would allow. "Pop?" he mouthed. The movement started a second round of gagging on the breathing tube. The ache in his chest intensified with the renewed coughing spasm.

Bob Gage placed his hand on John’s forehead as the coughing subsided. "I’m right here. Everything’s okay now."

Doctor Morton and a nurse rushed into the room, followed by Annie Gage. Johnny waved weakly.

Doctor Morton beamed. "Good to see you awake! Now that you’re back with us, we can see about taking that tube out of your mouth." He looked at Johnny’s parents. "We’re going to check his breathing parameters. If they’re okay, we’ll go ahead and extubate him. I think he’ll do fine."

"I’ll get the Respiratory Therapist," said the nurse. She smiled at Johnny, then left the room.

Bob nodded and looked at his wife. "Let’s call the station. The guys will be happy to hear the news." He squeezed Johnny’s hand before they left.

The nurse returned with the therapist, who made some adjustments on the machine. The nurse set a small pitcher of water and a few plastic cups on the bedside table. After several minutes, the therapist looked at Doctor Morton. "He looks good."

"Great!" Doctor Morton raised the head of the bed. "Are you ready to get this tube out?"

Johnny nodded.

"Okay, Maria, can you get me a chux?" Morton asked.

"Sure." The nurse opened the bottom drawer of a small cart, and lifted a blue plastic pad from the bin. Maria placed it over Johnny’s bandages.

Doctor Morton quickly removed the endotracheal tube. The nurse placed an oxygen mask over Johnny’s face. The therapist turned off the ventilator and pulled a rubber band from his pocket. He watched Johnny out of the corner of his eye as he bound the hoses with the rubber band.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Morton lowered the head of the bed slightly.

"Sore throat," Johnny croaked.

"That’s from the tube. It’ll go away in a couple of days." Doctor Morton sat on the end of the bed.

"Can I have something to drink?" Johnny winced as he swallowed.

"Sure," replied Maria. She poured a small amount of water into a cup and handed it to Johnny. She glanced at the therapist and nodded. He grinned, and wheeled the ventilator out of the room.

He drank gratefully. "When did my folks get here?" John’s voice cracked slightly. "How long have I been out?"

"Your parents got here yesterday. You’ve been unconscious for almost three days."

"Three days?!" Johnny’s jaw dropped.

"Yep. You lost a lot of blood and dropped a lung on the way in. Roy and Rick did the decompression, and got you stabilized. A few hours after your first surgery, we had to take you back to the O.R. because you started bleeding again. Afterwards, we gave you a lot of sedation to keep you quiet. Kel didn’t want any more strain on your lungs." Mike Morton shook his head. "You gave us a real run for our money. I haven’t seen Kelly Brackett sweat that much in a long time."

Johnny looked at his wrist, but saw intravenous tubing filled with blood instead of his watch. "What time is it?" Man, I can hardly keep my eyes open. He scratched around the bandages on his chest. He looked down and saw the yellow hose from the chest tube snake down the side of the bed.

"It’s about eleven at night."

Bob Gage returned with Roy and Ed in tow. "Look who I found in the hallway."

Johnny winced and touched the sutures in his lip as he smiled. "Hey, guys," He rasped. He noticed Roy’s momentary hesitation when he first entered the room. My face must look like crap.

Roy grinned. "Welcome back! We had a call and thought we’d stop by."

"Thanks, guys." Johnny rubbed his eyes. "I really owe you."

"It’s okay." Roy smiled. "I think we’re about even." He sobered, and shook his head. "I don’t know how you did it. Those people are here because of you."

"I did what I had to do to keep us alive." Johnny shifted uncomfortably in bed. "You would’ve done the same. How are Gary and his wife?"

"They’re fine." Bob sat in a chair beside Johnny’s bed. "Gary told us everything." He squeezed Johnny’s arm.

"It’s been all over the news, too," Ed added. "They’re calling you a hero."

"I’m not a hero!" John insisted. He swallowed hard and coughed. Johnny grimaced, and closed his eyes briefly, until the pain subsided. He opened his eyes and looked curiously at Ed. "I thought you were working with Brice until after Bellingham’s vacation."

Ed glanced at Roy. "Not any more. I got reassigned to Roy after what happened."

Johnny nodded. "Craig will probably find the best lawyer in town for his brother." He yawned and shook his head. "He needs a counselor or something. That poor kid was pretty screwed up."

Annie Gage returned and walked to the opposite side of the bed. She kissed Johnny on the cheek. "Captain Stanley was thrilled to hear you woke up. He said they’d be in to see you in the morning, once they get off shift."

Bob, Roy, and Ed looked at Doctor Morton. Doctor Morton looked at Johnny, then nodded his assent.

"What’s going on?" Johnny asked. He stared suspiciously at the group. "There’s something you haven’t told me."

"Brice is out on funeral leave plus some vacation," Ed explained.

"Funeral leave? Did one of his parents die?" Johnny set his jaw and sighed. He rested back against the pillow. Aww, Man! "What happened?" he asked firmly.

Roy cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Well, his brother hung himself the night he was arrested. He left a note apologizing for the robbery and the shooting. It said that he couldn’t live with what he had done."

John shook his head sadly, "What a waste. I guess he was pretty talented."

Roy’s Handie-Talkie announced another run. "We’ll stop by later." Roy waved to Johnny. "Try and get some rest."

"Do what the man said and get some sleep." Doctor Morton stood up. "I’ll let Kel and Dix know you’re awake. If you need anything, just holler." He pointed at John’s parents. "This goes for you, too." Maria pulled the door closed behind them.

Annie sat on the foot of the bed. She put her hand on Johnny’s leg.

"Thanks for comin’," John smiled slightly. "I’m really surprised to see you." Man, I must’ve been in really bad shape for them to be here. Pop’s actually speaking to me! "Who called? Where are you staying?"

"Your aunt gave Captain Stanley and Doctor Brackett our number," answered Annie. "After Doctor Brackett called, we were able to get a flight pretty quickly. Your friend, Chet picked us up at the airport. Roy gave him your keys, so he took us to your place to stash our stuff. Then we went back to the station to pick up your car." She grinned and patted Johnny’s leg. "I, ah, see you take after your father, having a bed in the back of your truck." she teased.

Johnny blushed slightly. "I go camping a lot!" he protested hoarsely.

Annie smiled tolerantly. "That’s the same thing your father said....then I found out I was pregnant with your brother."

Johnny grinned and stifled a yawn. He winced slightly from the pain that twinged in his chest.

"We’re going back to your place to rest," Bob said. "Do what Roy and Doctor Morton said, try and catch a few winks if you can." He paused, carefully choosing his next words. "Johnny, we...I...want you to know how proud I am of you. I know I gave you a hard time when you left home."

A hard time? As I recall, you kicked me out. "Pop," Johnny started to speak, but Bob held his hand up.

Bob glanced at his weathered hands, then looked Johnny in the eye. "I thought it was the wrong thing to do. I thought you’d get lost in the world." His eyes misted. "I was afraid you’d change too much. I was wrong, and I’m sorry." Bob shook his head. "After what Gary told me, I think you could have become that kid if you had stayed." He put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. "Gary was right. You turned out just fine." Bob leaned over and kissed Johnny on the forehead. Annie kissed Johnny on the cheek and smoothed his hair.

"Thanks, Pop." Johnny watched his parents leave. Huh. I never thought I’d hear my father say anything like that. I wonder if they’ll ask me to come home with them for a while. I’m sure I’ll be laid up for a few weeks. It might be nice to go back for a while. I’d like to see some of my friends again. He shook his head. Poor Brice. Although he’s never been my favorite person in the world, I wouldn’t wish anything like this on him. Man, I never thought the kid would kill himself. Johnny sighed and absently scratched the edge of one of the bandages. I guess there’s more to "Paramedic Perfect" than meets the eye. Pop too, for that matter. Johnny pulled the covers over his battered body and closed his eyes.