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A man is trapped. They can see him, but can't get to him. The only way to get to him it to walk across some pipes about 20 feet off the ground.
Roy tells Johnny they'd better watch their step. The pipes are covered with acid and can break loose at any moment.
Speaking of pipes breaking... Johnny falls through, knocking his regulator in the process.
While Johnny hangs on, Roy rushes to his side. The stokes they were carrying crashed to the ground below.
Roy gets a gripe on Johnny as he struggles to get back on top.
Almost there...
Back on top, Johnny gets to his feet and they continue the trek toward the victim.
They reach a spot with a dry surface below them, and instead of heading toward the victim, Johnny climbs down. (Our first indication something is not right...)
Johnny grabs hold of a pipe and begins to cough.
While Roy goes to the victim, Johnny is coughing below.
Johnny is trying to recover.
Suddenly, the pipe Johnny is holding springs a leak... burning Johnny's hand.
He falls backwards, clinging to another pipe for support... stunned.
Roy is calling him... he needs help with the victim. He tells Roy he burned his hand.
Roy calls for more help.
Johnny calls back, saying he's okay. He makes his way to Roy and helps with the victim.
Johnny and Roy carry the victim.
Johnny pulled his mask off before going across the rope to the awaiting engine crew.
Safe at last.
A coda for your enjoyment, can you guess who wrote it?(it wasn't me)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You okay?" shouted Chet, holding firmly to Johnny's arm to keep him from sliding from the wet surface.
Johnny nodded, lifting a hand to his mouth and coughing fitfully. He heard Chet mutter something, but the words were drowned in the cacophony that surrounded them. He let Stoker and Chet help him to the ground.
Johnny bent double again as another coughing fit consumed him. God, that hurt! He felt hands guide him across the tarmac to the squad. His eyes burning with unshed tears, he only half saw where they were going.
"What were you doing, taking your airmask off like that?" Cap's words were more than mildly reproachful, spoken as he pressed an oxygen mask against John's face.
Johnny peered up at the Cap, blinking and coughing yet again. "Regulator...went..." he wheezed, pulling away the mask that covered his nose and mouth. He could barely make himself heard.
"Keep that there," ordered Stanley, pressing the mask back onto Johnny's face. "Take it easy until Roy gets here."
Johnny nodded, breathing cautiously to avoid disturbing his slowly calming lungs. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the squad, forcing his breath to come slowly and evenly, swallowing hard against the burning in his throat.
"You okay?"
Johnny opened his eyes at the sound of his partner's voice. Roy was peering at him as he peeled off his SCBA. Johnny nodded. "How's the victim?" he tried to ask. He couldn't make any sound. Roy's eyes crinkled.
"Just take it easy, Johnny. The victim's with Squad 26. You'd better go in with them, too."
Johnny started to protest, but was interrupted by a serious bout of coughing. Roy rested a hand lightly on his back until the fit passed. Gage looked up miserably through watery eyes.
"Get some oxygen therapy," Roy suggested. "You'll feel better." He helped his partner to his feet, grabbed the oxygen canister, and led Johnny to a waiting ambulance.
Dutch Masters blinked at the sight of his friend. "What happened to you?" he demanded, reaching out and helping Johnny step up into the back of the ambulance.
"His air regulator broke," explained Roy for the voiceless paramedic. "He took in a lot of those fumes. I think he oughta go in just to be safe."
Dutch nodded and settled Johnny onto the bench. "I'll see to it," he assured Roy.
Roy grinned, shut the doors, and slapped the ambulance to signal that the doors were locked.
"Any other problems?" Dutch asked Johnny as the ambulance sped away. Johnny wordlessly lifted his burned hand, and watched impassively while Dutch dressed it.
Man, I'm never gonna hear the end of this. He sighed, leaned back against the ambulance wall, and closed his eyes for the remainder of the ride to the hospital.
Dutch wisely refrained from wise cracks.
"I think it might be a good idea for you to stay a couple hours more," Kelly Brackett told John some time later. "I'm still getting rawls on the left side. I'd like to be certain that you're not going to develop pneumonia before I send you home."
Johnny's face crinkled as he opened his mouth to protest. Then, realizing that no sound would come out, he closed it again, settling instead for a grimace.
Brackett smiled and shook his head. "You can go home when that noise clears up, okay?" He patted Johnny on the shoulder and departed without waiting for the paramedic to agree.
Johnny sighed and settled back again. He recognized the losing end of an argument when he saw it. Besides, his chest still hurt. Much as it pained him to admit it, the oxygen did help, and the drugs were easing the discomfort.
But, Man, I just hate doing nothing.
The door opened and Dutch poked his head around the corner. "Hey, John, we're headin' out now. Brackett says you're gonna be here a few more hours, huh?" The rest of his body followed his head into the room.
Johnny shrugged but made no attempt to speak.
Dutch shook his head. "I don't know, Gage. Seems to me you're working awfully hard at stayin' away from work. Could it be you haven't finished your invention and this is your way of getting out of entering the contest?"
Johnny shot him a murderous look, but he was unable to utter a sound. He pounded his fist against the examining table in frustration.
Dutch grinned. "I'll call you when you can talk again." He waved and departed.
Johnny heaved a sigh and blinked up at the ceiling.
Huh. Who needs a contest, anyhow?
Johnny ended up spending the night, much to his disgust. His left lung hadn't cleared up, though he thought Brackett was being unnecessarily overcautious.
"I'll come back in if it bothers me," he whispered fiercely.
"Hey, I told you no talking," commanded Brackett as he signed the admittance papers.
"Nobody to talk to at home," muttered Johnny soundlessly.
Brackett chose to ignore the remark. "How's that hand?" he asked, lifting Johnny's right hand and pulling back the dressing to examine the burn.
Johnny shrugged noncomittally.
"Cheer up, Johnny," Brackett grinned, "at least you won't have to face any needles."
Johnny made a face underneath the oxygen mask he still wore.
"I'll check on you after you've been settled in," Brackett promised as he left.
Johnny returned his gaze to the ceiling. Wonder what's for dinner?
"Johnny?"
"Yeah?" Not only was it difficult to make his voice heard, he had been sound asleep when the phone's ringing woke him, and his still foggy mind was having trouble adjusting.
What the hell time is it?
"What are you doing answering the phone? You aren't supposed to be talking." Roy's parental tone traveled down the wires.
"What are you doing calling me?" Johnny mumbled.
"You okay?"
Johnny, hearing the concern in Roy's voice, nodded, then remembered that Roy wouldn't see the motion. "I was sleeping," he said.
"What?"
Johnny sighed. "I was asleep," he repeated as loudly as he could.
"Oh. Sorry. I was just calling to make sure you were okay."
"Roy." It was very hard to make himself heard.
"Yeah?"
"I'm not supposed to be talking."
"What?"
Johnny repeated the words carefully. "I'm supposed to be resting," he added for good measure.
"Well, I just thought I'd see if you needed anything. I'm sorry I didn't get over to the hospital to give you a ride home."
"It's okay." Johnny swallowed. His throat was dry and it was hard to talk.
"They said you were sleeping when I first called, and by the time I called back, you'd already gone home."
"Roy, it's really hard to talk."
"Gotcha. Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow then. You'll be back on next shift, right?"
"Right."
"Okay. I'll see you then."
Johnny replaced the phone and glanced at the clock. It was just after noon.
Settling back again on the sofa pillow, he threw his arm back up over his eyes to block out the bright sunshine flooding his apartment. He thought briefly about shutting off the ringer in case anybody else decided to make sure he was all right, but he was too tired to bother.
His thoughts drifted to the rescue yesterday and the failure of his air regulator.
Maybe I can figure out a way to rig up a spare to the tank....so all you have to do is plug in the replacement if the first one goes.
He feel asleep with a smile on his face, accolades and the first place check for his invention floating in front of his eyes.
Did you guess who wrote it? If you think it was MJ Hajost, you were right!