This Old House
Part
2
(And The
Blood Flowed Like Wine)
By: Kenda
*Parts 1 and
3 of This Old House can be found in Kenda’s Emergency Library.
Chet Kelly took
three giant steps backwards. A smile
caused his mustache to twitch as he took in the sight of his home sweet
home. The bungalow that appeared
weathered and sad just three months ago was now becoming the talk of the
neighborhood thanks to John Gage.
Though
Chet wouldn’t admit it out loud, he’d bitten off more than he could chew when
he’d purchased this fifty-four year old house.
The day the Realtor showed it to Chet the fireman pictured what the
decrepit place would look like once it was fixed up. He envisioned fresh paint on both the inside and outside,
followed by new carpeting in every room.
Modern bathroom fixtures would replace the Pepto-Bismol pink tub, sink,
and toilet. Then would come a new sink,
cabinets, and countertops for the kitchen.
After that some shutters and window boxes filled with flowers to make
his California bungalow look like an inviting cottage to a weary fireman after
a twenty-four shift. But, long before
Chet’s home could be considered his castle there was a lot of work to be done.
Chet
had only thought about surface appearances when he’d purchased the house. Cleaning and painting sounded easy. He hadn’t realized the ancient electrical
wiring would need to be replaced if he didn’t want to blow a fuse each time his
washing machine and his Mr. Coffee were turned on together. He didn’t know tearing out bathroom fixtures
meant discovering the floor underneath them was rotten and would have to be
replaced. He never imagined deciding to
hang new oak cabinets meant discovering the kitchen walls were crooked because
of the way the foundation had settled over the years. But as a first time homeowner Chet was learning all this and more
thanks to Johnny. And learning there
was an order in which things had to be done.
As anxious as Chet was to make his house look like a home, Johnny kept
reminding him there was no use painting walls or buying carpeting until the
dirty work was done.
“Chet,
you don’t put down new carpeting in the living room one week only to be ripping
out the windows the next. When you’re
fixing up an old house you’ve got to remember two things.”
“What
two things?” Chet had asked in the
Station 51 locker room the day he and Johnny were engaged in this conversation.
“You
start at the top and work your way down.
And you start on the outside and work your way in.”
“So
that means stuff like a new roof, and new windows, and rebuilding the sagging
porch, and putting on siding and shutters, has to be done before I can make the
inside look nice?”
“Yep. Well...the siding and shutters can probably
wait, but there’s no point in making the kitchen brand new only to have water
leak in the next time it rains. And
unless you have your new windows custom made, which will cost you more than you
earn in six months time, there’s no way you’ll find anything that’s an exact
fit to the old windows you have now.
Especially considering you want to replace the two long ones in the
living room with a bay window. That’s
gonna take some prep work first, Chet.
We’re gonna have to tear out the old windows, then build a frame for the
new one before we’re even ready to put it in.”
For
once Chet didn’t argue with Johnny. His
co-worker’s knowledge in this area far exceeded any Chet had. Though Chet was loathe to admit it, he’d
come to admire Johnny’s remodeling skills.
The guy could do anything from running electrical wiring to tearing out
crooked walls and then rebuilding them so they were straight. Not to mention the piping. Johnny had saved Chet the expense of a
plumber a month earlier by running new water pipes under the house. That act
had almost cost Johnny his life when he unknowingly came into contact with an
insecticide called Dieldrin. The
insecticide poisoning made the paramedic dangerously ill, but fortunately his
collapse happened at the station.
Thanks to the emergency medical care Roy was able to give Johnny on the
scene, and the tests and research Doctor Brackett did that led him to conclude
Johnny had been exposed to a poisonous chemical, the paramedic made a full
recovery.
It
had taken Chet a few weeks to get over the guilt he felt about Johnny’s
illness. Aside from the assistance of
Roy and Doctor Brackett, Chet knew it was only by the grace of God that Johnny
survived. On a scale of one to six, one
being the least toxic and six being the most, Dieldrin rated a six. Which was exactly why the EPA banned its use
in the United States the previous year.
But Chet’s house was built on what once had been an orange grove like a
lot of older dwellings in Southern California were. At Johnny’s urging Chet called the EPA and had a man come who
tested his soil and water. Chet was
told the home was safe to live in, though the man advised Chet it would be wise
not to allow anyone in the crawl space. The fireman didn’t need an overpaid
government employee to tell him that.
Recalling how ill Johnny had been after coming into contact with the
Dieldrin made Chet declare the crawl space off limits from that day
forward.
Chet’s
mind returned to the present as he watched his friends work. Mike, Marco, Roy and Johnny were here today
to help install new windows. Even
Captain Stanley had given up his Wednesday off to pitch in his talents.
They’re
a good buncha guys, Chet thought as he listened to hammers pound in
unison. A man couldn’t find better
friends than I’ve got at Station 51.
I’m gonna hate it when the day comes we all move on to bigger and better
things. No matter where I go from here,
I’ll never forget this crew and how close we are.
Of course, one would be hard pressed to
see that closeness openly displayed.
“Hey,
Kelly!” John Gage yelled through the
eight by ten foot square opening that had once been two living room windows and
a portion of the living room wall. “You gonna stand there and watch the rest of
us work on your house, or are you gonna pick up a hammer before I have
to hot glue it to your hand?”
“Stow
it, Gage. I was just takin’ a minute to admire my handy work.”
Johnny
cocked an eyebrow. “Your handy
work?”
Chet
knew better than to make a remark countering that one when every man present
looked up and nodded their agreement to Johnny’s words.
Chet
trudged toward the house. He watched
Johnny unclip a tape measure from his belt and use it to double check the
dimensions of the window frame. At the
same time Johnny turned and answered a question for Mike, while holding a board
steady that Marco and Roy were hammering in place.
Man,
Gage is really good at this. He could
be making big money as a foreman for some multi-million dollar construction
firm. Hell, he could make big money
working for himself doing this kinda stuff.
Or showing other people how to do it on TV.
“Hey, Johnny, have you given any more
thought to that TV show I was talkin’ about a few weeks back?”
“Nope.”
“Oh,
come on, Gage. I’m tellin’ ya’ it’ll be
a smash. This Old House. All we gotta do is find a producer, get a
camera crew together and...
“Chet,
all we’ve gotta do is get this frame finished before your windows arrive. Quit worrying about a TV show that doesn’t
exist, and if it did exist would have no viewers.”
“I
bet a lot of people thought Julia Child had a dumb idea, too.”
“She
did.”
“That
might be true in your opinion, but I bet she’s rich.”
“Good
for her. But my point is, you’re
not. So if this frame isn’t done when
that truck arrives with your windows then you’ll be paying the guy extra for
having to wait around while we finish.”
“You
know, Gage, I never knew you could be such a hard ass when it came to work.”
Hank
Stanley looked up from the circular saw he was operating three feet from the
house.
“I
never knew that either. I’ll make a
station captain out of you yet, Johnny.”
John
simply smiled as he continued working.
If being a station captain meant giving up his work as a paramedic he
wasn’t sure he cared if such a promotion ever came to pass. Yes, it would be nice to be recognized for
his skills and years of service with the fire department, but he didn’t want to
imagine the day when Roy was no longer his partner, even though Johnny knew
that day probably wasn’t too far into the future.
Roy
can’t put two kids through college on a paramedic’s salary. Someday he’ll be forced to take whatever
opportunity pays him more.
Roy
glanced at Johnny as he reached out the large opening to take a board from
Cap. Despite the two nails Johnny was
holding between his lips Roy could see the slight frown tugging at the corners
of his mouth.
“Something
bothering you, Johnny?” Roy asked over
the din of the screaming circular saw and pounding hammers.
Johnny
reached up and removed the nails so he could speak.
“Just
thinking about the future.”
“Which
part of the future? The part Cap wants
for you? Or the part Chet wants for
you?”
“Huh?”
“Being
a station captain? Or being the host of
your own TV show?”
That
remark changed the frown to a smile.
“Neither
I guess.”
“Neither?”
“I
was just thinking I’m not all that big on giving up being a paramedic. Which is what I’ll have to do if I ever
wanna advance much beyond where I am now in pay and all.”
Roy
simply nodded. They’d had this
discussion in the past. Until the day
came when the fire department recognized the value of not having to train new
paramedics when the veteran medics moved up in the ranks, Johnny was correct.
It was odd to find yourself working a job you loved and found deeply satisfying
on a personal level, yet at the same time being fully aware you were traveling
a dead end street.
“I
have a feeling something will change eventually,” Roy said. “Someday we’ll
be able to earn promotions without leaving the paramedic program.”
“Yeah,
but will that day come soon enough for us?”
“Beats
me, Junior. Guess we’ll just have to
bide our time and see. But hey, if
you’re getting anxious to move on with your life you could always take Chet up
on that TV show idea. What did he call
it? This Old House?”
“That’s
exactly what I’m gonna call it,” Chet said as he climbed through the opening
that would soon hold his bay window.
“This Old House, with John Gage as your host.”
Johnny
rolled his eyes at his partner. “You
just had to get him started again, didn’t you?”
“Hey,
give me some credit here. I heard what
you and Roy were just talking about. If
you wanna make more money you’ll have to give up being a paramedic. So, if you have to give up doing something
you love, what better career could await you but one in television?”
“I
could think of several,” Johnny deadpanned.
“Like
what?”
“Any
that would involve the ability to legally shoot you and dispose of your
body. Come on, Kelly, quit your jawing
and pick up a hammer. We’ve got work to
do.”
“Slave
driver.”
“It’s
your...
“I
know, I know. I’ve heard you say it a
hundred times in the past three months.
It’s my old house, not yours.”
“Not
that anyone watching would be able to guess that. Your neighbor across the street invited me to a ‘welcome to the
neighborhood cookout’ next Saturday.”
“My
neighbor across the street? You mean
sexy Shanna? Shanna with the legs that
don’t quit, golden hair like an angel’s, big come-hither bedroom blue eyes who
doesn’t wear a bra Shanna?”
“That’s
the one.”
“She
thinks you live here.”
“That
seems to be her impression, yes.”
“And
you didn’t tell her differently?”
“Hell,
no. I’m over here so much lately I do feel like I live here. You’re not payin’ me a dime, so I might as
well get some benefit for my labor.”
“Gage,
I can’t believe you’d let Sexy Shanna think...”
Before
Chet’s tirade could go any farther a supply truck rumbled down his residential
street. The words Barker Windows were
clearly visible on the truck’s doors.
Chet’s
bickering match with Johnny was forgotten as he scrambled out the open living
room wall.
“Hey,
my windows are here! My windows are
here!”
The
men left behind simply looked at one another and laughed.
“I
wish latrine duty got him this excited,” Cap joked.
The
men put down their tools and headed for the truck. The back of the vehicle was a flatbed surrounded by metal
bars. A yellow hook and chain mechanism
sprouted from the center. The square
windows that would go in the kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms were
individually packed in thick cardboard boxes and strapped to the truck’s
bed. Once the truck’s driver got the
metal bands undone that were holding the windows in place, the men would be
able to lift the boxes and carry them to the appropriate opening in Chet’s
home. The big bay window would be
handled differently. Its box was
sitting up and strapped to the truck’s metal bars. The window weighed three
hundred pounds. Because of its size the
window would be removed from its box, then hoisted from the bed by the big
metal hook and carefully guided to the ground under Johnny’s direction.
With
six men present it didn’t take long for the smaller windows to be
unloaded. Once they’d been carried to
their destinations the firemen returned to the truck. Chet indicated for the young driver to take instructions from
Johnny.
“Can
you back this up within about six feet of the house?” Johnny asked.
This
was just the second day on the job for the nineteen year old man whose round shirt
patch said his name was Dan. Dan wasn’t
about to admit he had doubts regarding his ability to do anything requested of
him.
“Sure. No problem.”
“Great. Then we’ll have you lower the window to
us. While it’s still on the chain we’ll
guide it into the opening.”
“Sounds
like a good plan to me,” Dan agreed, just happy there was someone on this job
site who was more knowledgeable than himself.
He hopped in the cab of the truck, took a few seconds to secure his long
brown hair into a ponytail using a rubber band he had on the dashboard, then
started the vehicle and backed it into the street.
Johnny
told Mike, Marco, and Cap to go into the living room. Roy and Chet would remain outside with him. Between the six of them they’d slide the
window into place and then secure it.
Roy
and Chet stood back as Johnny guided Dan with motions of his left hand. The
rear of the flatbed slowly inched itself toward Johnny.
“That’s
good! Keep her coming! Keep her coming!”
When
the truck was six feet from the opening Johnny held his palm up.
“Stop!”
Dan
shut the truck off, put the parking brake in place, then jumped from the tall
cab. He and Johnny climbed onto the
bed. Dan used tin shears to cut the
metal straps that were holding the window to the truck’s side while Johnny used
his utility knife to cut away the cardboard.
Chet’s eyes widened when his beautiful window was revealed. Again, in his mind’s eye he could see just
how this house was going to look when the remodeling was finished...say in
about two years.
Johnny
took a step back. “There she is Chester
B.”
“And
quite a lovely sight, too.” Chet
said. “When it comes to this remodeling
stuff I’ve got excellent taste if I do say so myself.”
Three
heavy metal bands wound around the window.
The wood between the frame and the straps was protected by thick blocks
of foam rubber.
Though
Dan had yet to use the truck’s hook to hoist anything, he spoke like this was a
job he’d been doing for years.
“The
hook will go right here around this middle band. Once it’s secured I’ll get in the truck and start lifting
it. Can you help guide me again so I
clear the bars?”
“You
bet.”
Johnny
hopped off the back of the truck. Neither
he nor his co-workers paid attention as Dan fitted the hook through the thick
band surrounding the middle of the window.
Dan dropped a metal gate over the hook. The gate had been installed as a safety precaution the previous
year. When latched, it prevented
anything from falling off the hook. But
if the gate wasn’t latched a person ran the risk of dropping a customer’s one
thousand dollar window and shattering it into far too many shards of glass to
count.
Johnny
stood three feet from the driver’s side of the truck with Chet and Roy another
three feet behind him. Mike, Marco, and
Hank watched from their vantage point in Chet’s living room.
“Okay!” Johnny called. “Take her up!”
Dan
started the truck again. There was a
long pause before the men heard the power-take-off unit kick in. Another long pause followed before the
window started rising with jerky movements.
Chet
pursed his lips as his eyes followed the window’s spasmodic travels.
I
hope to hell this kid knows what he’s doing.
If my window ends up breaking ‘cause of something stupid he does I swear
I’ll have his long-haired hippie hide.
Johnny was beginning to wonder, as
well, just how familiar this young man was with the workings of the truck. He was about to suggest Dan trade places
with Mike Stoker when the window cleared the metal bars.
“Okay,
clear!” Johnny called, as he took a
couple steps toward the open driver’s window.
“Now take it up about five more feet, then swing it back toward the
house. I’ll let you know if you’re
getting too close. When I say lower it,
go ahead and bring it to the ground.”
Johnny’s
instructions left Dan confused as he reached for the gearshift on the PTO
drive.
Did
he say swing it back, or take it up, or drop it down? Damn, I don’t remember.
Without
meaning to, Dan tried to do all those things at one time. He shoved the gearshift in one direction,
only to decide he should have shoved it in another, and then another. He heard an indignant, “Hey!” shouted by the curly headed guy with the
mustache, and could only imagine that he’d just caused the window to bounce and
sway with reckless abandon.
Please
don’t let me lose this job. Please
don’t let me lose this job. If I lose
another job my dad’s gonna make me join the Marines.
Chet’s cry caused Johnny to turn around
for a brief second. That second was all
the jerking window needed to pop the metal gate open and work itself free of
the unsecured hook. Johnny wasn’t sure
which of the men in the living room yelled, “Look out!” but by the time the paramedic realized what
it was he was supposed to be looking out for it was too late.
Johnny
glanced up to see the window rocketing down like a torpedo. He turned to run, catching a glimpse of Roy
and Chet doing the same thing. He felt
something heavy smash against the lower portion of his left leg. The pain caused Johnny’s leg to collapse
beneath him. The force of the blow
flipped the paramedic’s body as he fell.
Johnny closed his eyes, unable to watch as the window came down on top
of him.
Roy
and Chet were still running when they heard Marco scream, “Johnny!”
Up
until this point Roy thought his friend was right behind him. He turned around, momentarily stunned by the
sight that awaited him in Chet’s front yard.
Johnny was lying face up underneath the
heavy window frame. Broken glass
littered his body like snowflakes glistening in the California sun. At some point Johnny, either through quick
thinking or simple reflex, had thrown his arms over his face. That act had prevented glass from getting in
his eyes, and had deflected the window’s frame from his skull. The upper portion of the frame rested a foot
above Johnny’s head. The lower portion
rested across his shins. Roy briefly
wondered if his partner’s legs had been broken by the impact of the heavy frame
pinning them to the ground, but right now that wasn’t his biggest concern. As he raced to Johnny’s side Roy’s biggest
concern was the piece of jagged glass sticking up from the left side of
Johnny’s chest like a well-aimed arrow.
The
first thing Roy did was scream, “Don’t touch him!” to the men gathering around
the fallen paramedic. Regardless of how
bad things looked, Roy knew he had to assess Johnny’s condition before they
attempted to lift the heavy frame.
“Chet,
get me towels, sheets, blankets...anything and everything you’ve got! Marco, if no one’s called this in do it
now! We’re gonna need all the help we
can get!”
Neither
man answered Roy, but they both ran for the house on his commands. Roy grabbed the work gloves from his back
pocket that he’d been wearing earlier.
He put them on as he knelt beside his semi-conscious partner.
“Johnny,
don’t move! Don’t move. Let me have a look at you.”
“Off.” Johnny’s head rolled back and forth beneath
his arms as pain began to assault his nerve endings. “Get...it...off.”
“We
will. But I need to have a look at you
first.”
Roy
glanced up and spoke quietly.
“Mike,
hold his legs. Whatever you do, don’t
let him move. Cap, do the same with his
arms.”
The
two men nodded. Glass crunched beneath
their boots as they hurried to do Roy’s bidding. Mike placed his hands on Johnny’s ankles, keeping his grip firm
but loose for the time being. Since
Johnny’s arms were still resting on the upper portion of his blood speckled
face Cap didn’t attempt to reposition them.
He simply laid his hands on top of Johnny’s forearms and said, “It’s gonna be okay, pal. Let Roy check you out, then we’ll get this
thing off of you.”
“Hurts...Cap.”
“I
know, I know,” Cap soothed as Roy
carefully brushed and picked glass from Johnny’s body. “But try to relax.”
Johnny
found relaxing to be difficult at best.
Even the slightest movement caused glass still dangling from the
window’s frame to slice into his chest and abdomen. If someone didn’t know the T-shirt Johnny had put on that morning
was pale blue, the person would think it had been red. Blood red.
Johnny’s denim Wranglers afforded his lower body more protection than
the cotton T-shirt afforded his upper body.
Johnny couldn’t feel any blood seeping through his jeans the way he
could feel it seeping through his shirt.
Marco
and Chet arrived back at the same time.
Blankets, towels, and sheets were laid a few feet from Roy’s patient as
Marco reported, “I called it in.”
Roy
merely nodded at that news before issues furthering instructions.
“Chet,
put your gloves on and help me get this glass off him. But whatever you do, don’t touch that piece
in his chest.”
When
no helping hands joined Roy’s he barked,
“Chet!”
Marco
saw the way Chet’s hands were shaking and the hint of shock surrounding his
eyes. He reached for his own gloves as
he raced around to the opposite side of Johnny’s body from where Roy was
working.
“I’ll
help you, Roy.”
Hank
glanced up to take in Chet standing a few feet behind Roy, and then the
wide-eyed Dan standing outside the truck.
He figured it was a toss up as to which of them looked the most upset.
Roy
could only attribute luck to being the reason the glass piercing Johnny’s chest
wasn’t still attached to the window frame.
Thank
God it broke free. At least we can get
this thing off of him. If it was still
attached to the frame I don’t know what we’d do.
For the next few minutes Roy and Marco
gingerly broke glass free from the window frame and tossed it aside until the
frame was empty of anything that could further cut Johnny.
“Roy?”
Cap asked, when he sensed the paramedic was ready to make a
decision.
“Until
we get this frame off him I can’t tell if his legs are broken or not, but all
the injuries from the glass seem to be fairly superficial except for that one.”
Hank
could feel Johnny trying to left his head.
“What...what
one?”
Roy’s
eyes met his Captain’s for a brief second, then he spoke to his partner.
“Johnny,
you’ve got a piece of glass piercing the left side of your chest.”
“I...I
figured as...as...much,” Johnny rasped.
“Hurts...hurts like hell.”
“I
know. But that also means I can’t remove it.
We’re gonna have to let them do that at Rampart. I don’t see any other serious injuries,
though. Do you hurt anywhere else?”
“Not...no. My legs...are kinda...numb, but no...Roy,
just...just pull it...pull it out.
Please.”
“Johnny,
I can’t do that.”
“Yes...yes,
you can. Tell Brackett I said...I said
it’s...okay.”
“I
have a feeling your authority won’t hold much weight with Doc Brackett in this
case, partner,” Roy teased with a light tone to his voice, “so you let me
decide what can and can’t be done.”
Roy
knew it was going to take all of them to lift the frame from Johnny. He glanced down the street, praying to see a
fire engine and squad. He glanced over
his shoulder at Chet while fishing his car keys out of his pocket.
“I’ve
got a First Aid kit in the trunk of my car that includes a stethoscope and B/P
cuff. Bring it to me.”
Chet
snared the keys Roy held out to him and ran for the paramedic’s sports car. He
found a black bag in the trunk like the
medical bags doctors carry. Chet
brought it back to Roy’s side. Roy
removed his work gloves, then opened the bag and took out the equipment he
wanted. There wasn’t much in here that
would help Johnny. If Roy was able he’d
contact Rampart via the bio-phone, and from there receive instructions to start
an IV with Ringers Lactate and give Johnny a few milligrams of MS for the
pain. But Roy wasn’t able to do any of
those things so he settled for monitoring his friend’s vital signs.
“Cap,
you can let go of his arms now. But be
ready to grab them if he reaches for that glass.”
Hank
nodded. He wanted to reach for that
ugly shard of glass piercing Johnny’s chest as well, but knew for the sake of
their patient he couldn’t.
Both
Hank and Roy were on guard as the captain released his grip on Johnny’s
arms. The upper portion of Johnny’s
face was injury free, but he had a long slice on his left forearm that was
bleeding freely. Roy held out a hand.
“Chet,
give me a towel.”
Roy
felt the terry cloth towel being placed in his palm. He folded it once, then wrapped it around Johnny’s forearm in a
makeshift bandage. He secured the blood
pressure cuff above it and pumped the ball.
His first instinct was to frown at the reading, but when he saw Johnny
watching him he smiled instead.
“Doing
good, partner,” Roy lied. Without
lifting Johnny’s shredded shirt, and being careful not to come in contact with
the glass in his chest, Roy placed the stethoscope against Johnny’s upper
torso.
“Roy...this
thing is really...killin’ my legs. Get
it...get it off.”
“As
soon as 36’s arrive we will,” Roy promised, speaking of the station he knew was
closest to Chet’s house.
“No. Don’t wanna...wait. Juz...juz...get it off.”
“We
will, Johnny,” Roy promised as he watched his friend slip deeper into
shock. “We will.”
When
more time passed and Roy heard no sirens he looked at Marco.
“You
said you called it in?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn.
How long has it been?
“Ten
minutes I’d say.”
Roy
chewed on his lip as he took Johnny’s blood pressure again. He motioned for Chet to take his spot.
“I
need to talk to Cap. Keep him calm and
quiet. Whatever you do...”
“I
know. Don’t let him touch that glass.”
“Exactly.”
Roy
started to stand.
“Roy...”
Roy
knelt back down and placed an arm on Johnny’s shoulder.
“I’m
right here, Junior. I just need to talk
to Cap for a minute.”
The
sun prevented Johnny from getting a good look at Roy’s face, but what little he
could read of his friend’s expression told him Roy was awfully worried about
something. Johnny licked at his dry
lips. He fought back the urge to shiver
and wondered how he could be so cold on such a warm day.
“I...I..thought
maybe you were...steppin’ out for ice cream.
Was gonna...gonna tell you...bring me back...choc...chocolate malt.”
Roy
chuckled.
“No,
I’m not stepping out for ice cream, but as soon as Brackett gives the okay I’ll
get you that chocolate malt.”
“Soon?”
Roy
knew Johnny wasn’t talking about ice cream now, but in that one word was
asking, “Will this be over soon, Pally?”
“Yeah,”
Roy nodded as he squeezed his partner’s shoulder. “Soon, Junior. Real
soon.”
“Good. ‘Cause I’m...kinda...kinda gettin’
tired...of bein’...bein’ Chet’s window frame.”
“I
bet you are. And speaking of Chet, he’s
going to keep you company while I talk to Cap for a few minutes. Okay?”
“
‘Kay.”
Roy
relinquished his spot to Chet. He and
Hank walked several feet before they stopped to talk. Roy made sure their backs were to Johnny so no words would carry
to him.
“Cap,
we can’t wait much longer. I don’t know
what the hold up is with 36’s, but his B/P is dropping fast.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning
he’s bleeding internally.”
“From
the glass in his chest,” Hank guessed.
“Cap...Cap,
I think there’s a strong possibility it’s pierced his aorta.”
Hank
Stanley didn’t have to ask any questions about that. He was smart enough to know the aorta was the main artery in the
body that carried blood from the heart to all other organs. And even if he hadn’t been smart enough to
know that, the look on Roy’s face would have told him as much.
“What
do you want us to do?”
“We’ve
got to get that frame off him. After
that...after that if there’s no squad or ambulance here we’ll have to drive him
in ourselves. That act means taking one
hell of a risk with his life, but we’re rapidly running out of choices
here. If he doesn’t get to Rampart soon
he’s going to di...,” Roy paused there, until able to say the word die for some
reason. Instead, he finished with, “He won’t pull through this.”
The
one thing Roy DeSoto had long admired about Hank Stanley was his ability to
make a decision even while under tremendous pressure. When action needed to be taken Cap never hesitated.
“Let’s
do it then. You tell us how, and we’ll
get the job done.”
“I’ll
cover him with blankets as best I can first, then we’ll just lift the frame
straight up and carry it off of him. I
know it’s gonna be heavy, but I don’t trust that hook.”
“Neither
do I at this point, pal.”
Roy
and Cap rejoined the men gathered around Johnny. Roy issued instructions that were quickly followed. They carefully covered Johnny’s body with
blankets in the event any small bits of glass Roy and Marco might have
overlooked shook free from the frame when they moved it. Once again the men avoided coming in contact
with the glass piercing Johnny’s chest as they worked.
Roy
knelt by his partner’s head.
“Johnny,
we’re gonna lift this thing off of you.
I’ll cover your face with a
couple towels so you don’t get cut any more than you have been, okay?”
Johnny’s
eyes were glazed and unfocused, but he seemed to understand Roy’s words.
“
‘Kay. Do I...do I...look like...I
cut...cut myself shaving?”
“You
might say that. That is if you’ve taken
to shaving with chunks of your living room window.”
“I’d
laugh...but it hurts...hurts too much.”
Roy
gave Johnny’s shoulder a light pat. “I
know, partner. I know.”
By
now two of Chet’s neighbors had been drawn to the yard by the commotion.
“Is
there anything we can do to help?” One of the men asked.
Chet
made short work of explaining what they were going to do. Roy was grateful for the extra hands. It meant he could remain free to help Johnny
while the window was moved away.
Hank
waved Dan over. The young man seemed
reluctant to move away from the truck, but the Captain urged, “Come on! We need your help, too. The more of us there are to lift this, the
easier it will be.”
Roy
directed everyone as to where they were to stand. He made sure one of the Station 51 crew, in this case Hank
Stanley, was positioned the closest to the left side of Johnny’s chest. The last thing he needed was someone
accidentally making the dangerous injury there worse. Roy nodded to his captain
to give further directions.
“On
my count of three we lift the window frame straight up,” Hank said. “We’re not going to step over John, but
instead we’ll walk it down his body until we’re far enough away that we can set
it in the yard. Whatever you do, watch
where you’re going and don’t accidentally jostle him. If he cries out in pain, which he might do when we lift it off
his legs, don’t stop your movement unless I tell you to.”
Roy
had made certain to intersperse one of his co-workers between each of the
civilian helpers. He knelt by Johnny’s
head with towels in his hands.
“I’m
gonna have to step out of the way for a few seconds, Johnny, just until they
get this frame off of you. Then I’ll
be back.”
Roy
wasn’t certain if Johnny was kidding or not when he said, “Prom...promise?”
“I
promise.”
“Good. ‘Cause...’cause I don’t wanna see...see
Brice lookin’ down at me when...those...those towels come off.”
“Not
a chance.”
Roy
gave his partner a final smile before covering his face and neck with two bath
towels. He stood then and stepped away.
“Go
ahead, Cap. Let’s get this done.”
Hank
nodded. He and the rest of the men bent
to grab their sections of the window frame.
“Okay,
men. On the count of three. One...two...three.”
On
three everyone lifted as instructed.
Just like Cap predicated Johnny cried out as the frame came off his
legs, but no one stopped their progress.
The
men barely cleared Johnny’s upper body with the frame before Roy dove for his
side. He grabbed his friend’s wrists
and held them to the ground.
“No,
Johnny! Stop it! Stop it!
You’ll hurt yourself!”
Johnny
withered in Roy’s grasp, knocking the towels askew that covered his face. If he couldn’t sit up and rub his tingling
legs then he wanted to pull that thing out that was making his heart throb in a
bizarre and uncomfortable way with every beat it gave.
“Guys! I need some help!”
The
men made quick work of putting the frame down once it cleared Johnny’s
body. The Station 51 crew ran to Roy’s
side. Without being told what to do
they each grabbed one of Johnny’s limbs and pinned it against the ground. Johnny continued to arch his back while
giving cries that were rapidly growing weak and incoherent.
“We
can’t wait any longer,” Roy said as he took another blood pressure
reading. “His B/P’s dropping fast and
he’s having trouble getting air. He’s going to go out on us any second
here. Mike, we’ll need to use your
pickup to take him to Rampart.”
Roy
looked over his shoulder at Chet’s neighbors.
“Can
you guys take these blankets and towels to that blue Dodge pickup parked at the
curb?”
“Sure,”
the men responded as one.
“Spread
one of the blankets out in the bed, then leave everything else piled in a
corner.”
“Okay.”
As
the men did what Roy asked he turned to Marco.
“Call Rampart and tell them we’re bringing Johnny in. See if you can talk directly to Dixie or
Brackett. If they’re not available ask
for Joe Early or Mike Morton.”
“Got
it,” Marco acknowledged while running for the house.
“And
call dispatch and find out where the hell 36’s and that ambulance are! If there’s been some screw up, see if they
can meet us enroute!”
“Will
do, Roy!”
The
blond paramedic did a quick check of Johnny’s legs. He couldn’t detect any broken or crushed bones. As Roy had
predicted he would, Johnny finally lost the battle to remain conscious, which
at this point Roy knew was for the best.
“Guys,
I need you to lift him straight up just like you did the window. I’ll have one hand on his back and one on
his chest in an attempt to keep this glass from shifting. You’ve got to move slow and steady with him
all the way to the truck.”
Everyone
nodded as they took up positions around Johnny’s body with Roy remaining by his
left side. Chet supported Johnny’s head
and neck as they once again lifted on Hank’s count of three. The neighbor who was carrying Johnny’s
ankles acted as a spotter, verbally guiding everyone through the yard and to
the driveway in an effort to make Johnny’s trip to the truck as smooth as
possible.
Roy
managed to keep his hands on Johnny’s chest and back as they lifted the now
unconscious paramedic onto the bed of Mike’s Dodge. Roy climbed up beside his friend, with Chet squeezing in on
Johnny’s right side and Hank taking a position at Johnny’s feet.
“Mike,
I hope I’m not asking the impossible when I say give us a fast, smooth ride to
Rampart.”
Roy
wasn’t surprised by the engineer’s answer.
“No. You’re not asking the impossible.”
While
Hank and Chet covered Johnny with two blankets Roy took his blood pressure
again. The last sight Roy had of Chet’s
house as they pulled away from the curb was of broken glass sparkling on the
front lawn like diamonds.
_________________________________
Thank
God for Marco, Roy thought as Mike backed the Dodge up to Rampart’s ER
doors. The truck hadn’t even come to a
halt before two orderlies ran out with a gurney followed by Kelly Brackett, Joe
Early, and Dixie McCall. Under Brackett’s direction they got Johnny transferred
from the truck to the gurney without causing him further harm.
Roy
followed the gurney into Treatment Room 1.
He answered the doctors’ questions about the accident, and told of what
help he’d given Johnny at the scene, while assisting Dixie with starting the
IV’s Brackett ordered. Within seconds
of completing that job Dixie was calling for a portable X-ray unit and for an
Operating Room to be put on stand-by.
Roy heard Brackett mention the name of a cardiovascular surgeon he
wanted paged, then heard him tell Dixie to get six units of Johnny’s blood type
down to the ER stat.
Roy
stayed in the treatment room offering the doctors and nurse what assistance he
could until the X-ray unit arrived. He
had no choice but to step out then.
Though Johnny remained unconscious, Roy patted his friend’s arm as he
passed. In a voice too soft for anyone
else to hear he pleaded, “Hang in
there, partner. Hang in there.”
Marco
had arrived at Rampart at some point while Roy was in the treatment room with
Johnny. He and the rest of the men from
Station 51 were gathered in the ER’s waiting area. They looked up when they saw Roy headed their way.
Chet
couldn’t contain his question.
“How
is he?”
“They’ve
got him stabilized, but that’s about all I can tell you. They’re doing X-rays right now, but Brackett
suspects the same thing I do.”
“That
the glass punctured his aorta,” Cap said.
“Yeah.
There’s no doubt he’s losing a lot of blood internally. They’ve got OR on standby and Brackett’s
talking to a cardiovascular surgeon right now.
I imagine as soon as they determine the extent of the injury they’ll be
taking him up for surgery.”
“And?” Chet asked.
“And
what?”
“What
are his chances?”
Roy
shook his head.
“I
don’t know, Chet. A wound like
that...well, it’s serious. They’re
going to be dealing with the loss of a tremendous amount of blood volume. They’ll have to get the damage repaired
quickly, and replace what Johnny’s lost just as quickly.”
“So
he might not make it.”
“I
didn’t say that.”
“But
that’s what you’re thinking. I can tell
by the look on your face that’s what you’re thinking. Damn! Me and that stupid
old house anyway. Now for the second
time in two months Johnny’s been hurt helping me.”
“Chet,
come on,” Hank said, “don’t do this to yourself. I have a feeling what happened today had more to do with
incompetence on the part of that young driver than anything else.”
“Maybe
so...but, still...”
“But
nothing. Right now Johnny needs your
support as opposed to your guilt. When
things calm down I think you’d better have a talk with the management at Barker
Windows. Not only do they owe you a new
window, but I believe they’d be wise to pay whatever portion of Johnny’s
hospital bill our department insurance doesn’t cover.”
“Yeah,
I suppose Barker Windows owes me and Johnny at least that much, huh?”
“At
least that much and then some, pal.”
When
the conversation between Chet and Hank ended Roy looked at Marco.
“What
happened to 36’s?”
“They
got caught in the middle of a fifteen car pile up on the freeway. Bellingham called it into dispatch and
requested another squad be sent to Chet’s, but it hadn’t arrived by the time I
left.”
“That
could have made the difference,” Roy said softly.
“What?”
“A
squad getting there. It could have made
the difference in regards to whether Johnny lives or dies. I couldn’t do anything for him other than
offer the kind of First Aid a kid learns in Boy Scouts. I...”
“Roy,
you did more for Johnny than any of the rest of us could have,” Mike pointed
out. “Your knowledge kept us from
pulling that glass from his chest, and your skills kept him alive long enough
for us to get him here.”
“He
would have bled to death,” Roy remarked with a vacant look to his eyes.
“Pardon?”
“He
would have bled to death if that glass had been pulled out. When someone is impaled like that, the
object actually prevents external bleeding.
If the aorta was pierced...well, if we’d pulled the glass out there’s no
way we could have controlled the bleeding at the scene. Not even if a squad and ambulance was
there.”
“So
see. You did everything right,” Mike
said. “You worked with what you had at
your disposal and gave Johnny the help he needed.”
Roy
sank to the couch and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He tried not to see Johnny’s blood splattered face, or hear
Johnny begging him to take the glass from his chest.
“I
just hope my help was enough, Mike. I
just hope to God it was enough.”
_________________________________
Roy
DeSoto’s help did prove to be enough that day.
Like Roy had suspected was the case, the six inch glass shard had
punctured Johnny’s aorta. Kelly
Brackett told the men of Station 51 that Doctor Gerald Cableman was the best
cardiovascular surgeon in the state.
Roy believed Brackett’s words were true because the surgery to repair
Johnny’s wound went off without a hitch.
Or so Doctor Brackett said when he talked to Roy and his co-workers late
that afternoon in the waiting area outside the OR.
“He
lost a lot of blood until we could get the aorta stitched. We’re still working on replacing that blood
loss, but all and all both Doctor Cableman and myself predict a fully recovery
for our accident prone paramedic.”
“This
wasn’t Johnny’s fault, Doc,” Chet was quick to point out.
Kelly
Brackett smiled. “It never is. Nonetheless, I think we’re going to wrap
Johnny in cotton before we let him out in public again.”
“Can
we see him?” Roy asked.
“He’s
in Recovery right now, and after that will be moved to the Cardiac ICU.”
“Cardiac
ICU?” Chet questioned.
“Just
as a precaution, Chet. If all goes
well, like I expect it to, Johnny will be moved to a regular room in a few
days.”
“Can
I see him for a few minutes before he’s moved to ICU?” Roy asked.
Brackett
could easily guess what Roy was feeling.
He told Roy the same things his co-workers had hours earlier.
“Roy,
you did everything you possibly could.
You did everything right. Johnny
made it here alive because of your quick thinking.”
“I
know. But I...I need to see him. Just
for a few minutes.”
“All
right, all right. But only a few
minutes and no more. Let me go make
sure he’s settled in Recovery first.
You wait here and I’ll come get you.”
“Great. Thanks, Doc.”
Hank,
Mike, and Marco decided there was no point in them staying at Rampart any
longer.
“Tell
Johnny hi for us, and that we’ll see him when Doctor Brackett says he’s ready
for visitors.” Hank said.
“I’ll
do that, Cap.”
“You
comin’ with us, Chet? We’ll stop and
get something for supper on the way back to your place. If I remember correctly we’ve got some big
holes that need boarding over until we can get your windows in.”
“I’ll
be there in a little while, Cap. I’d
like to hang around here until Roy gets to see Johnny. Maybe tag along if Doc Brackett will let
me.”
Hank
understood Chet’s need to see Johnny as much as he understood Roy’s need.
“Okay,
then. We’ll see you two back at the
house.”
Mike
handed Roy the keys for his truck.
“Here. Cap and I will ride with Marco. The truck’s parked in the east visitor’s
lot, row D.”
“Thanks,
Mike.”
“No
problem.”
Twenty
minutes after the three men left Kelly Brackett came to retrieve the two who
remained behind. He didn’t question Chet’s
presence as he said, “Johnny just woke
up. He’s groggy, and won’t be very
coherent, but he should recognize you’re with him.”
Brackett
led the men directly to Johnny’s bed in the large Recovery Room. The paramedic was receiving one IV of blood,
and one of a clear solution Roy assumed was saline. His long, black lashes laid in sharp contrast against his pale
face.
Johnny
wasn’t dressed in a hospital gown yet, though a sheet and blanket had been
drawn to the middle of his abdomen. A thick bandage covered the left side of
his chest and a drainage tube sprouted next to it. The cuts on Johnny’s face
had been cleaned and were now nothing more than random lines running in
multiple directions as though a child had taken a red felt-tipped marker to his
skin. The paramedic had a bandage on his left arm where Chet’s bath towel had
been wrapped earlier. Doctor Brackett
said it had taken fifteen stitches to close the wound. None of the cuts on Johnny’s stomach or
chest required stitching, nor had his legs been broken. Roy imagined his friend would be sporting
some pretty sensitive bruises across his shins, but he supposed that was a
small price to pay considering he’d been pinned to the ground by a three
hundred pound window.
“Five
minutes, guys,” Brackett said as he turned for the door.
“Okay,
Doc. Thanks.”
“Got
it, Doc. And like Roy said, thanks.”
“If
you really want to thank me you can do so by keeping our friend there out of
this hospital except when he’s here performing his job.”
Kelly
Brackett was gone before either man could answer. Roy bent over Johnny’s bed with Chet standing behind him.
“Johnny? Hey, Junior, wake up for a minute.”
Roy
could see Johnny’s eyes moving under his lids.
“Johnny? It’s Roy, partner. I just wanted to tell you hi.”
Roy
barely heard the hoarse, “Hi,” he got in response as Johnny’s eyes slowly
opened.
“Hey
there, Junior.”
“Hey.”
“Do
you know where you are?”
Johnny’s
eyes traveled the Recovery Room in lazy, weighted fashion.
“Ram...Rampart?”
“That’s
right. They had to do surgery to remove
that piece of glass from your chest, but Brackett says you came through with
flying colors.”
“Glass?”
“The
accident at Chet’s house, remember? The
bay window fell as it was being hoisted off the truck.”
“Oh. Oh...yeah.
Yeah. I...’member. Everyone...everyone else...okay?”
“Everyone
else is fine. You don’t need to worry
about anything except getting back on your feet.”
Johnny’s
eyes began to close on their own. Or so
Johnny felt as he fought to keep them open.
“Hey...Roy?”
Roy
placed a hand on Johnny’s right shoulder and squeezed. “Right here, partner.”
Because
of the sedative he was being given Johnny had difficulty focusing his eyes on
Roy’s face, and even more difficulty voicing his thoughts in a coherent manner.
“
‘Member what we...talked...talked ‘bout this...this mornin’?”
“This
morning?”
“
‘Bout not bein’ para...paramedics for...forever?”
“Yeah?”
“Glad...I’m
glad...it was you...you there to help.
I wouldn’t...couldn’t ever trust...anyone...like trust...you.”
Suddenly
being a paramedic didn’t seem like such a dead end job to Roy.
“I’m
glad I was there to help you, too, Johnny.”
Johnny’s
eyes closed twice before he managed to pry them open again.
“Ro...Roy?”
“Yeah,
Junior?”
“Do
me...favor?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Tell
Chet...tell him maybe...his idea...for that TV show...not
so...stu...stupid...after all.”
“What
makes you say that?”
“I...I’m
gonna need...some way...pay off...these hospital bills. TV stars...make lots...money. Chet said...This Old House...is sure to
be...a hit.”
“Well,
probably not much of a hit if you keep getting hurt while you’re fixing up
Chet’s old house, but I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks.”
Before
Chet had the opportunity to make his presence known Johnny was once again
asleep.
Roy
and Chet exited the hospital together that afternoon, headed for Mike’s
truck. Neither man said a word as Roy drove
toward Chet’s home. It wasn’t until
they pulled in the driveway and saw Mike, Marco, and Hank boarding up the hole
in the living room wall with plywood that Chet said, “I’m gonna get right on it.”
“You’re
gonna get right on what?”
“This
Old House. The TV show. Johnny told you I should.”
“Chet,
Johnny was so out of it he didn’t know half of what he was saying, and by
tomorrow morning will have forgotten he even had a conversation with me.”
“No,
I think he really meant it. He’s
finally seeing the beauty of my idea.
‘This Old House starring John Gage.’
Besides, it’s the least I can do for him after all he’s gone through for
me.” Chet jumped out of the truck and
ran for the house. “Hey, guys! Listen
up!”
Roy
rolled his eyes as he listened to Chet tell their co-workers that Johnny had
given him permission to follow through on his idea for a television show called
This Old House.
“Heaven
help us if this actually comes to pass,” Roy muttered as he, too, climbed from
the cab of Mike’s Dodge. “Johnny’s
already suffered from insecticide poisoning and impalement because of Chet’s
old house. I don’t even want to think
about what could go wrong in front of a camera.”
As
the list of possible injuries Johnny could suffer mounted in Roy’s head, he
started helping his shift mates get Chet’s house closed up for the night. Chet never stopped rambling as they worked.
“I’m
tellin’ you guys, before this house is finished we’re all gonna be on TV.”
“Yeah, on the six o’clock news rushing Johnny
to Rampart,” Marco wise cracked.
“Naw,” Chet shook his head. “That’s not
gonna happen. I’ve got a feeling
Johnny’s luck will turn around when we start filming This Old House.”
“What
makes you say that?” Mike asked as he
hammered a nail into the plywood.
“
‘Cause there’s no way Gage is gonna blow his debut on national TV. Just no way.”
Roy
looked up from his work.
“Chet,
do us all a favor and keep Johnny away from this old house for a while.”
“Oh,
I will. I will. I know it’ll be a month or better before
Brackett says he can return to normal activity and all that. But by then, Johnny’s gonna be a star.”
Mike,
Marco, and Cap laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Roy merely groaned while thinking he’d better purchase a First
Aid kit big enough to hold half of Rampart’s staff before ‘This Old House’
started filming in Chet’s front yard.
“Don’t
groan, Roy,” Chet scolded. “After all, what else could possibly go
wrong?”
“Do
you really want me to answer that?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Well, let’s see. Granted, Johnny’s been poisoned and impaled while working on your
house, but still the possibilities for physical harm are endless. Especially where John Gage is concerned.”
“Endless? Like how?”
“Oh...a
broken bone perhaps.”
“Yeah,
right,” Chet scoffed. “There’s no way Johnny’s gonna break a bone
workin’ around here.”
For
some reason Roy had a premonition he couldn’t quite voice other than to
say, “I wouldn’t be too sure about
that, Chet.”
The
paramedic wondered if he could fit splints into his First Aid kit as he slowly
repeated with a distant look in his eye,
“I just wouldn’t be too sure.”
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
Back To Title
Page|Email|