Disc-Ohhhh!
By Northlander

Johnny walked cheerfully into the station house kitchen. "Good morning, Good morning." He headed towards the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. Smiling, Johnny turned to face his co-workers seated at the table.

Roy took another sip from his mug and looked up at his partner. "I take it your days off went well?"

"Went well, went well! Did they ever!" Johnny strutted over to Roy and playfully slapped him on the back. Unfortunately his exuberance made Roy's hand jerk, causing hot brown liquid to spray across the table in the direction of Captain Stanley. Hank slid his chair back trying to avoid the coffee. He looked down and grimaced as a large stain covered his shirt and pants. Cap raised his eyes and glared at a dumbstruck Gage and DeSoto.

"He did it," they chorused while pointing accusatory fingers at each other.

Hank's jaw grew taut. "Gage!"

Backing out of the kitchen, Johnny began to mumble his explanation. He breathed a sigh of relief as the tones sounded. "C'mon, Roy, we've got a run. Ah, sorry Cap."

The squad pulled up in front of a single storey brick building. Neon lights gaudily flashed, "YOU SHOULD BE DANCING" DANCE SALON. A cardboard cut-out of John Travolta adorned the front walkway, its outstretched arm pointing towards the entrance.

"Oh great. Probably some granny threw out her back trying to do the 'Hustle'," Johnny snickered.

"Yeah. You're probably right. Who else would be disco dancing at 10 o'clock in the morning?" Roy agreed.

The paramedics unloaded the equipment from the squad and headed towards the studio. Johnny shifted the biophone to under his arm and pulled open the door. He and Roy approached a small circle of people.

"Fire Department," Roy yelled.

A woman with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a pink leotard and spiked heels, scurried up to them. Johnny and Roy both curled their noses at the powerful fragrance of her perfume.

"Oh, thank you for coming so quickly," she said.

Bouncing off her lacquered mane, the strobe lights that reflected from the disco ball pulsated across the room in shades of green, blue and red. Musical strains of 'She Works Hard for the Money' by Donna Summer filled the air.

"Ma'am, do you think that you could shut off the music and lights?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, of course. He's over there," she said referring to the victim. The instructor waved her hand in front of Roy's face, nearly cutting him with her long acrylic nails.

Johnny and Roy headed in the direction of the group that surrounded a man lying prone on his back.

"I don't believe it!" Johnny exclaimed.

Craig Brice lay on the floor, emitting the occasional groan. He wore a black silk shirt and black polyester pants, accented by a wide white belt. The first few buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a large golden medallion.

"Shut up Gage, and help me," Brice ordered through gritted teeth.

Roy and Johnny knelt on either side of their patient. "Can you tell us what happened Craig?" Roy inquired, trying to keep his voice level. From the corner of his eye, he watched his partner attach the BP cuff to Brice's arm. Johnny's shoulders shook with controlled laughter. Roy grinned slightly but became serious once he saw the look of disgust on his patient's face.

"I can tell you." A small woman approached the paramedics. Roy judged her age to be in the late sixties. She introduced herself as Marie, and said that she was "Cutie's" dancing partner.

"I gotta hear this," Johnny whispered.

Marie gave Johnny an admonishing look. "Craig and I were dancing." Marie paused for a moment. "I think the song was 'DISCO INFERNO'. Anyway, we were practicing dips and swings and well, he dipped me. Then Craig said he couldn't move. We didn't know what to do but help him lay down on the floor. GiGi, that's the instructor, she called you."

During the recitation of Marie's story, Johnny had been recording Brice's vitals in his notebook. He didn't trust himself to look at her directly without losing his composure. Roy turned to Brice.

"Is that everything?"

Craig nodded, but averted his eyes from Roy.

"It's all right," Roy reassured him. "Everything's going to be just fine."

Johnny picked up the receiver to the biophone. "Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?"

"Go ahead, 51," responded Dr. Mike Morton.

"Rampart, we have a 28 year old male who is a suffering from a back injury sustained during a disco dancing lesson. Vitals are BP 125/95, pulse 88, respirations 20. Pupils are equal and reactive. Patient is experiencing severe pain in his lower back."

"51, check the patient for normal reflexes in both legs."

"10-4."

Roy reached down to remove Brice's footwear. He smiled when he saw the ankle boots covered with silver glitter. Roy slipped off the shoes and tested each leg for muscle response. He looked up at Johnny and nodded. "It's okay."

"Response in both legs is normal, Rampart," Johnny reported.

"Good. Start an IV and administer 5mg MS. Immobilize and transport."

"10-4, Rampart." Johnny placed the phone back in the cradle. "I'll go get the back board."

Brice looked pleadingly at Roy. "You guys will keep this to yourselves, right?"

Roy smiled. "Frankly, Craig, I don't see how."

"Oh no," Brice moaned.

Johnny returned within minutes carrying the backboard. Two ambulance attendants followed him inside. Craig Brice could see the amusement on their faces and realized that he had little hope for discretion. He closed his eyes and waited.

"Hey, Brice. Nice threads."

Johnny shook his head, and winked at his companions. "Can't you see he's in enough pain?"

"Yeah, sorry."

The four men gently positioned their patient on the backboard, and lifted him onto the gurney.

"Wait," Craig said. "DeSoto, I would rather you rode in with me."

Roy raised his eyebrows at his partner. "I think you hurt his feelings, Johnny," he said quietly.

The attendants wheeled Brice to the ambulance while Roy gathered the necessary equipment.

"Can I come?" Marie had joined the paramedics. "I feel responsible. He did hurt himself while dancing with me. I'd feel terrible if anything happened. He's just so cute."

"Well ma'am, we're taking him to Rampart General, if you'd like to follow us in your car," Roy offered.

"Oh, yes."

*******

Later that afternoon...

Bellingham stopped at the nurse's station to say hello to Dixie McCall. "Hi Dix, how's tricks?"

"Oh, same as always," she replied in a strained voice. Just once, just once, he could think of something different.

"Which room is Brice in?"

"212."

"Thanks, Dix. See ya."

Bellingham walked the few steps to the open elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. The doors opened and he turned to his right. Brice's room was at the corner. He entered and gazed upon the unhappy face of the room's only occupant. "Hey, Buddy?"

Brice peered up at his visitor. "Hello."

"So, what's the good word?"

"I've got a herniated disc. The doctors say I'm going to need a lot of bed rest."

"What happened?"

He doesn't know! Craig's appearance brightened. "Oh, well, I was at home doing some renovation work when one of the rungs on the ladder broke. I just fell the wrong way."

"Wow, tough break, man."

"Hi Cutie," Marie said as she walked through the doorway. She held a bouquet of mixed spring flowers in her hand. "These are for you of course."

"Hi," Bellingham said. Both Craig and Marie ignored him.

"Really," Craig started, "You didn't have to. The other two bunches plus the chocolates were enough."

Marie seemed hurt for a moment, but only a moment. She was too infatuated with her dance partner to think he was being anything other than considerate. "How's our Craig today? I feel so bad since the accident. But I now that he'll be up and boogie dancing in no time again." She turned to Bellingham, "I was partly responsible, you know."

The silence hung heavily in the air. A look of comprehension crossed Bellingham's face.

Grimacing, Craig Brice pulled the covers high over his head as he listened to the hearty belly laugh coming from his partner.

The End