Big Game By: Jessie Jane Cheshire What the hell was he doing up here again? Oh, yeah. Shot. Trapped in the open. No where to go. Paramedic Johnny Gage turned his head to his left to look at the calm azure sky and felt his loosened chinstrap to his helmet tap his throat. He could feel the perspiration run under his heavy coat. He had a death grip on one of the metal bars that crisscrossed the huge crane arm beneath him that he voluntarily climbed out on. It was all in the name of the victim. Anything for the victim. The victim was already dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The body still lay where it fell. No one willing to brave the bullets to remove it or cover it up. Blood pooled around the body on the hard packed ground of the construction site. Why was he up here again? Oh, yeah, nut with a gun and a dead victim. He could almost physically feel the nut's gaze like a physical force on his back. It was a feeling of Death itself stalking him from afar. Shortly after getting up here on the crane's arm to check out the trapped victim, the victim flew backwards, like the heavy hand of God had hit him. Johnny wasn't close enough to grab the boy before he fell to his death with a gaping wound in his chest. It was a few seconds before he recognized the boom of a heavy gun echoing around the construction site. And before Johnny was able to snap his safety belt to the crane he too felt the heavy hand. The sound of the second shot that hit him was zoned out of his hearing as his world exploded into searing pain in the back. The only coherent thought running through his head was, someone is shooting at a fireman in the middle of a rescue! He really needed to secure himself to something solid, but all his gear had dropped when he felt the blow. All he had with him was his helmet, his heavy coat and . . . and, what else? Oh, yeah, the HT. He looked up at the crane's arm to see that he wasn't too far from the bend. A few feet of pulling and he wouldn't need his security belt as much. He would be able to straddle the crane's struts. The move was painful and fearful. And he never let go of his death grip as he climbed. Any minute he expected to feel another bullet enter his body. He felt heavy, tired and sluggish as he swung a leg over the metal crane structure and sat down without breaking his tight grip. The dizziness hit him hard for the first time and he leaned forward, almost touching his forehead to his hands in front of him. His helmet brim clicked against the metal of the crane. A sudden sputter from the HT startled him upright and he clutched at the crane with an even tighter grip. "HT 51, Engine 51, are you O.K., Pal?" His captain. Calling for him. But he didn't look down to where the seemingly small trucks were sitting below to his right. Way below. Roy, where are you? Another boom. That turkey shot at him again! He ducked back down close to the crane again. Please don't hit me again. I think I'll fall if you do. "John, what's your status, Pal?" There was an edge of panic in his Captain's voice. I'm hanging in there, Cap. He then giggled at his own mental joke. "Oh, damn," he said out loud as the world spun for a moment. The azure sky on his left was blurring into the browns and flashing reds from the ground and the rescue vehicles on his right. For a moment, he didn't know what was up and what was down. All right, he was a paramedic, he should know what to do. How did he feel? He took a mental inventory. He felt like hell. A throbbing, deep ache was just below his right shoulder blade in his back and he was lightheaded. And maybe what he thought was perspiration running down his back wasn't perspiration at all. Maybe it was his blood coming from the wound he couldn't see. He couldn't tell about the wound or confirm about the blood without taking off his coat, and he really didn't want to let go to do that. His breathing was fast and short. He felt a little shocky. Oh, yeah, he'd been in shock before. He knew what it felt like. Another boom. He heard the distinct ping of metal close by. Damn, that turkey was getting closer to him. "Hey, Junior, you going to answer or what?" Roy. He almost wanted to cry with relief. Roy was still down there. He carefully fumbled inside his coat for the HT. He had to force his fingers around it and brought it close to his mouth. His guess at blood loss must be correct. He could hardly work up enough spit to talk and he didn't think he had much breath in his lungs to be loud enough to carry over the HT. "Hey . . . Hey, Roy. S-Sorry about . . . the boy. Couldn't . . . get to him in time." A worried voice came back. "Don't you worry about that, Junior. You just worry about hanging on. Are you snapped to the crane?" "N-No. Sitting . . . on it." "Can you hang on for a while longer?" "T-Try . . . to. Hurry, Roy." There was a long pause and Johnny knew what was going on. The captain and his partner were trying to decide if they should ask him his own vitals since no one else was up there to do it for him. "Johnny, are you hit? What's your status?" He took stock again. He didn't have any equipment with him, but he could make an educated guess. "S-Shot in the . . . back under the right . . . shoulder blade. No exit wound. Breathing is . . . fast and shallow. Lightheadedness." He pried his hand from the HT for a moment and pressed it to his neck for a pulse. He picked the HT back up. "Pulse is . . . rapid but strong. Starting . . . the first stages of shock." There was another long pause on the HT. "Hang on, Junior. I'm coming to get you." "No--No, Roy. Wait. Still shooting at me." Johnny almost laughed at Roy's tone when he said he was coming up for him. Gage was the climber of the two paramedics. Roy could do it, but usually it was Gage that insisted on doing it. He loved heights. Wasn't afraid of them. Well, until now. He took a quick look down to the right to pick out Roy and Cap. The world spun again. Don't look down again. Hold on tight. Just breath, Roy's coming eventually. He felt his back getting wetter. It had to be blood. He felt the wind make the crane arm sway slightly. It tipped off a dizzy spell for Johnny and he closed his eyes tightly and forced down his nausea. Don't throw up on Roy when he gets here. Roy wouldn't like that. Another boom of a gun. No ping this time. But he did hear the yelp of a siren on the ground. Maybe the fruitcake was shooting at the station's guys on the ground now. He didn't have the breath to call them up on the HT right now to find out. It seemed like seconds were hours. His whole body was pressed tightly to the crane. His forehead was as close to the cool metal as his helmet would allow. His eyes were closed. All his concentration was on not letting go and not feeling any pain. That and keeping a low profile. A low profile meant less of a target for the nut with the big sounding gun. "John, as soon as we get this nut, we're coming for you, Pal," said his Captain over the HT. I know, Cap. I know you'll come for me. Just hurry. Another boom. Another ping. It was closer this time. Either the man was trying to scare him into falling or he was a lousy shot and had gotten lucky with his first two shots. "Junior, give me another status," asked Roy in a strained voice. He could hear shouting and arguing in the background. He heaved a sigh. He painfully peeled his right hand from the crane and reached for the HT. "The . . . the same, Roy. A little more blood . . . loss. Still dizzy," he said breathlessly. Damn, it was hard to talk and hold on at the same time. "What about your pulse?" Damn, Roy. I don't know. I'm bleeding to death with some nut shooting at me and about to fall to my death. He didn't say that over the HT. "Still fast . . . but getting weaker. " He could hear more arguing over the HT as probably Roy was keying it to ask him another question and didn't take his finger off the send button. He could hear his Captain and Roy arguing with some policeman that Johnny needed an immediate rescue and medical attention. The Cap and Roy wanted Roy to go up to secure Johnny and check him over while the police tried to contain the man with the gun. The HT suddenly went quiet. Johnny picked up his HT again. "Cap . . . don't let Roy . . . come up here . . . before the gun . . . is gone. Roy . . . you stay on the ground. We . . . don't need two . . . in this mess." Another boom. Ping. He could feel splinters as the bullet kicked loose some metal from the crane to pepper his hands like hot razors. Then he heard another gun. Not as booming as the nut's gun. This sound was sharper. He risked a look down and saw the S.W.A.T.'s van next to his engine and the squad. He was surprised. He hadn't heard them arrive. Sharpshooters. Get this damn freak off of me, he mentally prayed to whatever god that would listen to him. He quickly raised his eyes back up to the crane in front of him as another dizzy wave swept over him. He closed his eyes and faded out slightly. His grip tightened again in self-preservation until his vision focused in color again. More shots from below. Then all was quiet. Don't worry about the nut or the police or the sharpshooters or the guys he worked with every day, the guys that were like a family to him. The guys that would rag on him one minute and pull him out of a blazing fire the next. Worry about staying on this damn crane and not falling to your death. He felt like he held on for hours. The HT was silent. No more messages from his partner or his Captain. He felt out of touch, alone. Where was everyone and what was going on? He was startled when a hand touched his good shoulder. He almost let go. "Whoa, Junior. It's just Roy. Keep a good grip while I strap you to me." It was Roy. Finally. He opened his dark eyes and looked straight into Roy's bright blue ones. "Roy . . . what took you . . . so long?" He thought for a moment. The gun shooting at him in the air. "Can you be . . . up here now?" Roy was silent as he fumbled with his equipment. "Roy . . . is it safe . . . for you to be up here?" To be weak, his question was forceful. No one would be harmed to rescue him. He couldn't take that. "Yeah, the gunman is gone. The police sharpshooters shot him. He dropped his gun and ran off to the north. S.W.A.T.'s chasing him now." He tightened his hold on Johnny. "We're safe now, Johnny." "Good . . . don't want to . . . break in another partner. Although . . . I might need one . . . that can climb . . . a little quicker." Roy just smiled. "I'm not a mountain goat like you, Junior. It took me a while to get up here." Johnny nodded sluggishly. "Sure, old man." Roy chuckled a little. "It's this old man that's going to get you down, Junior. You all right? Any pain?" A hand went to his wrist and checked his pulse. Then it traveled to his forehead for a temp check. "Pain in . . . my back. Dizzy. Shocky." He felt himself sag slightly against the crane. "Tired. Real tired, Roy." Roy immediately put an arm around his waist. "Hold on a little longer, partner. As soon as I get us hooked together, we're getting out of here." He heard the clip of metal and the sound of Roy moving around him to check his back. His eyes were trying to close on him. "Roy . . . I think I'm going . . . out on you." "No, stay alert, Junior! Don't close those eyes. I'm going to need your help going down." Colors wavered in front of Johnny's eyes. White, gray and then black filled his sight. He was going out. Johnny's world spun again. He uncurled his right hand from the crane and wrapped his arm around Roy's neck and held on tight. Damn, but that move hurt! "I think . . . I'm going to fall." He felt a rope tighten around his hips. "No, partner. You're not going to fall. I'm here." Johnny felt a flush go across him. Roy was here. He wouldn't fall. Roy wouldn't let that happen to his junior partner. "Thanks, Pal." The last thing he saw was Roy's smile then everything went black. *** Rampart was always busy. There was always frantic parents and relatives to be handled in the various waiting and emergency treatment rooms. None were more frantic than a certain paramedic that had just brought in his bleeding, unconscious partner. "Roy, you need to stay calm. Neither the Doc nor Dixie have been out here yet. Let's give it a little time," his Captain said calmly from a nearby chair in the waiting room. The other men of Station 51 were stretched out in various poses around the waiting room. Their heavy turnout coats were slung over empty chairs and their boots turned down to half cuff to cool off a little in the stuffy room. Helmets littered the floor by each fireman. Roy was the only one up pacing the room. No one faulted him for it. It was his partner that had been shot. He had been the one that had to go get him off of that huge crane. He was the one that had to treat Johnny and then call in to Rampart. And he was the one that Johnny had told to stay on the ground until the gunman was gone. They could all remember the expression on Roy's face when Johnny called from the HT and told Roy to stay put. It was agonizing and painful to watch as the older paramedic paced while waiting for the go-ahead from the police to get his partner. They still weren't quite sure how Johnny knew what they were planning, against the advice of the police. Since reaching Johnny on the crane and caring for him had been top priority, Roy completely forgot that his finger was on the button of Cap's HT and broadcasting the whole plan. The door to the waiting room opened and Roy almost jumped Dr. Brackett. "Is he O.K.?" Dr. Brackett smiled. "He's fine, Roy. He came through the surgery well. He'll be out from work for about six weeks to heal up and do a little physical therapy on his damaged muscles from the bullet. But he'll be fine." Roy heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead. God, Junior, what messes you get yourself into. "Can I see him?" "Well, as soon as we move him to a room. That'll be about forty minutes. I'll send Dixie back with a room number when we get him settled." Roy nodded and finally took a seat for the first time since arriving at the hospital, four hours ago. After the go-ahead and Johnny had been lowered to the ground, blood was discovered all over his back when Roy cut off his turnout coat and uniform shirt. There was a big gaping hole on the back of his right shoulder. Roy almost fainted at the sight. But he kept it together to treat his partner. There were no other paramedics on site and Johnny had been bad off. No time to faint. Roy struggled with his mind's eye that kept replaying the bloody scene over and over. First the boy and then Johnny, over and over again. He really needed to see Johnny, to make sure he was really alive after that ordeal. When Dixie finally came with the room number, the members of Johnny's station stampeded to the elevator. They were at his room in under three minutes. Inside the room was Johnny looking white as a sheet from blood loss and his right arm immobilized from the gunshot wound to his back. And his eyes were open. "Johnny, you're awake," said Roy breathlessly from the run down the hall. Thank you, God. Johnny really is alive! "Can't sleep . . . with that herd of . . . elephants . . . running in my room." They all had the decency to look chagrined at his comment. He just huffed a faint laugh. "That's O.K., guys. I'm . . . glad to see you. Didn't think . . . I would again." Roy helped Johnny raise his upper body slightly by snatching the pillows from the empty neighboring bed in the hospital room. It took a moment to get a good position that didn't press on Johnny's back wound. "Did they . . . catch the nut?" Roy nodded. "S.W.A.T. caught up with him not far from the construction site. He's some big game hunter from up north that just got back from Africa. He decided that he needed a human for his collection up in Oregon. The police took him to the mental ward at St. Mary's for evaluation after they treated his gunshot wounds." Johnny closed his eyes and nodded. "Thanks. Thanks for getting me . . . out of there." His crew smiled at him and he smiled back when he opened his eyes. "You're welcome, Junior." The End. Feedback for Jessie Jane . |