Links to Part 1. 2. 3.

John pulled his Rover into the police department lot at 2:36pm that afternoon.  It was pretty full, but he finally found an empty spot and parked his car.  He jumped out, shoving his keys into his pocket, as he rapidly walked towards the building.  The dark haired paramedic opened the front door and stepped inside. He looked around the lobby and spotted a woman with graying hair sitting at desk behind a glass partition.  She was shuffling through a stack of papers as she talked on the phone, which was wedged awkwardly between her shoulder and ear.  John made his way over to her and waited patiently until she was through.

“Good afternoon,” the older receptionist greeted politely as she replaced the handset in the cradle. “My name is Barbara...may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m here to do a ride along with Officer Drew Burke. My name is John….John Gage.”

“Oh yes, he mentioned you would be coming in,” the woman said giving him a warm smile, “Just push on the door to your right when you hear the buzzer.”

“Thanks,” he replied, complying with her directions as heard the buzzer go off.  Once through, he made his way back over to her desk having no idea where he was supposed to go.

“Officer Burke is already here and probably in the locker room,” she stated, “Sharon will walk you back and show you were to go.”

John nodded gratefully and followed the younger woman down the hallway. She pointed to a door, and John thanked her as she gave him a warm smile. “You are very welcome…maybe I will see you later on,” she said in a hopeful voice.

He walked into the locker room and a group of officers were in various stages of getting dressed. John spotted Drew in the corner of the room placing his bullet proof vest over his head and securing it with the side Velcro straps. He then pulled his uniform shirt on over the vest and started buttoning it up as he noticed his friend walking towards him.

“Hey Johnny… You made it!  I was wondering if you were going to call me and back out,” Drew teased.

“Not a chance.”

Drew reached into his locker and withdrew his gun belt, swinging it casually around his waist before buckling it.  He grabbed the duty bag loaded with his gear with one hand, and slammed the locker door shut with the other.

“Let’s get going," he said, "Sergeant Taylor is not the kind of guy you want to show up late for his roll calls.”

“Do ya get latrine duty if your last man in?” John said jokingly.

“Naw, but we get a nice little chat in the boss’s office along with a write up suitable for framing,” the young man replied.

The two were just making their way out of the locker room door and were almost bowled over by a frantic looking man in his late twenties.

“Get the HELL out of my way Burke…I’m LATE!” the man growled.

“So what else is new Joe? I don’t think you have ever been on time a day in your life,” Drew laughed.

                                                                                              *****

John and Drew entered the roll call room and noted several officers were already milling about either sitting at the tables sipping coffee, or reading information posted on the bulletin board.  Drew snatched an activity sheet out of the tray on the counter as he walked by, and the two men moved towards a table and grabbed some seats.

“Anything new up there since yesterday,” Drew asked.

“No, not really.  Oh wait...yea, Kowalski announced his retirement; they are having a party for him next month.  Lucky bastard…No more midnights and working the holidays for him!”

“Hey,” one of the officers spoke up, “the guy has pushed a stove around this city for twenty-eight years…he has paid his dues.”

“Yea I know.  Just saying he’s lucky.  Should be an excellent party...I hope I am off that day so I can go.”

Several more officers hastily filed through the door and hurried to sit down.  Moments later the Sergeant entered carrying a book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He took a cautious sip before setting it down on the table and then placed the book on the podium before him. He pulled out a sheet of paper and proceeded to give the officers their district assignments, and determined when everyone would be taking their breaks.

The Sergeant looked up from his roster and his eyes scanned the room conducting a mental check… his lips pull into a tight line.  He glanced over at one of the officers sitting closest to the door and nodded his head. 

The blonde officer grinned and pushed his chair back rising out of the seat.  He walked over to the door and kicked the door stop out…allowing it to slam shut.  He then sat back down.  The Sergeant flipped opened the book and began reading.

At eight minutes after three they heard someone try the handle of the door.  

“Shit,” came the response from the unknown person as they realized the door was locked.

The Sergeant paused and looked over…waiting. He was rewarded when he heard several rapid knocks.  He walked over to the door and flung it open. The group of men snickered in anticipation, knowing what was coming next.

“Thompson! So glad you could join us…please come in and have a seat.”

“Sergeant Taylor. Sir, I am really sorry I’m late I had a…” Joe Thompson began contritely.

“Yes, I am sure it is a riveting excuse…which we can discuss in further detail…in my office…after roll call,” the man replied sternly.

“Yes sir,” the officer answered as he dropped into an empty seat.  The snickering got louder and Thompson bestowed a murderous stare in his shift mate’s direction.

John Gage leaned back in his chair trying hard to suppress the grin that was threatening to make an appearance…he felt right at home.

“Now that we are all here,” the Sergeant stated with piercing look at his tardy officer, “we can finish up our roll call.” His eyes traveled back to the podium and he continued to flip through the stack of reports.

“There were numerous Burglary to Motor Vehicles along the 300 block of Lowell and in that general vicinity.  In each case, the victim had left their vehicles in the driveway unlocked. Items taken included golf clubs, tools, and loose change.”

“We also had an aggravated assault in the parking lot at Miller’s Bar,” he stated as he proceeded to read the report...

“Complainant was leaving the bar with a friend and observed two male subjects having a heated argument in the parking lot. As the witnesses made their way to the car, the taller subject pulled a knife and threatened to “cut” the shorter man if he didn’t receive payment.  The complainant ran back inside and had the owner call police.

Upon arrival officers located the offenders, who attempted to flee on foot upon seeing the squad cars.  They were apprehended and subsequently identified at Gerald Smith and Marshall Owens. The field interview revealed that Smith had advanced Marshall a significant amount of marijuana the week before with the promise that he would pay for it the following day; which he did not.  Smith had been actively looking for Marshall for several days and had finally tracked him down at the bar.  The subjects were both run through the system and came back wanted on drug and weapons charges.  They were taken into custody and searched.  The switchblade was located in the waistband of Smith’s jeans.  Statements were obtained from the witnesses and the offenders were transported to the station where they were booked.  Smith was additionally charged with Aggravated Assault.  Both were transported to the County jail and will appear before the judge at the next bond hearing.

Case closed by arrest.

“No honor among thieves,” an officer muttered. “What is this world coming to?”

“Domestic trouble at 562 Hillside,” the Sergeant read on…

“Complainant called to report that her husband came home from work and didn’t like what she had prepared for dinner.  He proceeded to mix himself several martinis instead of eating food “even a pig wouldn’t consume,”

“Wow…he is NOT a smart man,” Drew commented.

“…and over the course of the next couple hours became verbally abusive to her. The Complainant had enough and struck him in the head with a skillet of a cold corn beef hash while he was sitting in his recliner watching a football game.”

“…that will definitely get your attention,” Harrison added.

“…The Complainant went to her mother’s for the remainder of the evening, and the husband was transported to the hospital for stitches. No complaints to be signed. Scene cleared.”

“Any chance the happy couple are the O’Connors in Apartment 16?”

“Yep,” the sergeant replied.

“Thought so,” Foster replied “I was out there a couple weeks ago for the same type of thing. He said her roast tasted like feet and was so tough he could have made a pair of shoes out it and at least put it to good use. That night, Mr. O'Connor was on the receiving end of the Betty Crocker cook book he got her for Christmas for that remark.  Apparently she launched it from across the room and it smacked him right in the face; while he was trying to beat a hasty retreat. The lady may not be able to cook…but she has one hell of an arm.”

The guys burst out laughing.

The Sergeant shook his head and flipped the page, determined to get through the rest of roll call. He continued reading…

“Criminal Damage to Property at 9085 Tanglewood Drive…

The 68 year old complainant reports that unknown offender(s) entered on his property during the night and trampled the couple’s flowerbed. They removed four plastic pink flamingos from the front yard, breaking off the metal stands, and throwing them into their pool.  Complainant also stated a collection of garden gnomes were taken from their original locations and re-arranged into various obscene positions, which caused great emotional distress to his wife.  The Complainant advised this is the third time this has occurred and wanted the perpetrators caught. He requested the matter be fully investigated and an extra watch put on his residence.”

Sergeant Taylor did not avert his eyes off the book. He knew his men, and waited patiently for them to get it out of their systems. Better here than on the street…

One of the officers towards the back of the room started it off with a loud snort.

 “Man, I would PAY to see the look on the Lieutenant’s face when that report gets forwarded to his Investigations Division.  They will probably give it to Murphy…he’s the rookie.”

“Yea...those guys have been buried in cases the last few months.  I know several of the them have been busting their butts on this Residential Burglary ring, and now they have to drop everything and do surveillance on some garden gnomes!"

“What the hell is a garden gnome?” Thompson inquired.

“Really…how obscene can you get with a garden gnome? It’s not like they are poseable action figures,” Smith chimed in.

“What the HELL is a garden gnome?” Thompson repeated.

“Well, they are these little men with white beards…I think they have lady gnomes too, but I am not 100% sure. Anyways…” one of the younger men volunteered helpfully before being abruptly cut off by a veteran officer.

“PARKER…  No one cares!” He glared around the room daring anyone to challenge his remark. “If you want to meet up with Thompson later and discuss the finer attributes of garden gnomes over coffee…have at it.  But for now…SHUT UP!”

The Sergeant looked up…

“Ok, that topic is closed.  Moving on, “Hernandez, we are still getting complaints from residents about speeding vehicles in the 400 block of Maple Street…grab a radar and give me an hour out there this afternoon.”

“Aww Sarge…come on! I sat out there last shift and the two people I stopped and wrote tickets to gave me hell cause they LIVED on that street.  They asked if I didn’t have anything better to do other than “harass them,” like catch the two guys who have been doing the robberies that is ALL over the news.”

The Sergeant chuckled, “yea I know, I saw the tickets you wrote.  Mrs. Johnson was one of the people calling to complain.  I guess she meant all the speeding vehicles…except for her."

 “Ok, the rest of you listen up…Hernandez is right, we still have these idiots out there robbing the convenient stores; it looks like they have been focusing mostly on the south side of town. “Foster, I want you and Harrison in an unmarked tonight doing some extra patrol in that area.  The Chief is starting to get heat from the higher ups…we need to catch these guys." 

Sergeant Taylor slammed the book shut and looked up at his men. “That’s it. Let’s hit the street…and stay safe out there.”

The men all got up and shuffled out of the roll call room.  Drew walked over to a closet and withdrew a spare bullet proof vest and handed it to John.

“Here…ya never know.  Better to be safe than sorry.”

Drew snatched the keys for his squad off the hook, grabbed his duty bag, and the two men walk out the back door into the secured parking lot where the squad cars were kept.

He loaded his gear inside and started doing his vehicle inspection as John reached over to open the passenger’s side door.  The loud wail of a siren caused both men to abruptly stop what they were doing and turn quickly around to find the source of the noise.  They observed one of the officers sitting in a squad two spots away from them with the door standing ajar. In addition to the screeching siren, John noticed the overhead lights were also on, the windshield wipers were slapping back and forth at a rapid pace, and the interior radio was blaring out a twangy Country Western tune.

“DAMN HIM!” the officer ground out as he slammed his fists on the steering wheel before he scrambled to get everything shut down.

Foster walked up behind the two men and  Drew turned and gave him knowing smile “that is the fourth time he has fallen for that…you think he would catch on wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know, Steve is an awfully slow learner,” the officer replied.

“DAMN HIM,” the three men heard again, but this time it came from a different location.  They shifted around and observed the driver’s side door to another squad standing open and an officer bent over the seat.  As they watched, items were being launched angrily over his shoulder. John glanced down as some of the projectiles landed near his feet.  The offending objects… French fries.  John looked over at Drew with a questioning stare.

“Hernandez,” Drew explained in a low voice, not wanting to add to the officer’s already bad mood, “shares his squad, like the rest of us, with two other officers.  No pun intended, but those guys are absolute...PIGS. Most of us are really good about keeping the vehicles clean, after all, they are technically our “office”.  Hernandez is kind of a neat freak, so when the squad is a mess he gets seriously pissed off; and I can’t say I blame him."

“Doesn’t your Sergeant do anything about that?”

“Sergeant Taylor,” Drew replied, “is a great supervisor and I really like working for him. He doesn’t micro manage us, and gives us the leeway to work out issues on our own.  However, if he believes things have gotten out of hand, he will intercede without hesitation.”

The men continued to watch as Hernandez finally extricated himself from the vehicle.  His hands were full of a vast assortment of trash including newspapers, cups, used napkins, wrappers, and a McDonald’s bag containing a half eaten hamburger.

“Disgusting...” the officer muttered as he walked right pass the dumpster in the lot and made his way back towards the station. The door flew opened and Parker and Harrison walked out. Knowing better than to say anything, Parker caught the door with his foot holding it open, as Hernandez seized the opportunity to make his way back inside.

“I do believe he is sick and tired of cleaning up after those two and just throwing the stuff in the garbage for them.  I think he has decided to try another course of action...one that I want to be able to claim ignorance too," Drew said averting his eyes.

Foster nodded his head in agreement as he adjusted the duty bag in his hand and continued walking.

“Hey...catch you guys later,” he said over his shoulder, “maybe we will have time tonight to grab a quick cup.”

“Friday evening shift? Who are you kidding Foster.  We will be lucky if we get to eat.”

“Yea...I know.  But maybe we will get off easy tonight."

"HEY! HARRISON,” he shouted, “sometime today would be nice.  I'm sure no one left us gas in the unmarked...so we are gonna have to hit the pumps."

“Okay Okay! Keep your shirt on...I’m coming.”

Officer Harrison turned to the young man walking next to him. “So Parker,” he asked quietly, “tell me... where can you buy these garden gnome things?”

Drew Burke chuckled and turned to face his friend. “I had a feeling the whole gnome issue was not over, and there is no doubt in my mind one will be appearing at the station in the very near future."

“Hey Drew," John asked "you got an application I can grab?”

“You ready to jump ship already? We haven’t even gotten a call yet.”

“No, I am thinking more along the lines of bringing one back for Chet.  He would love it here...and totally be in his element.  You guys are worse than fireman when it comes to messing with each other, and I would have the added bonus of being rid of him,” the dark haired paramedic stated with a wide grin. 

                                                                                            *****

“2 David 10…copy and assignment,” the dispatcher called.

Drew reached into the squad and grabbed the mic “2 David 10…go ahead.”

“2 David 10…2253 Stonehedge... Avenue  2-2-5-3 Stonehedge Avenue.  See the complainant at that location reference a dumping complaint."

Drew sighed “10-4,” he acknowledged.

John held up his bullet proof vest by his fingertips shaking it playfully back and forth.

“Hmmm, I don’t know Drew, this sounds pretttty dangerous. Ya think I should put it on now?”

“Shut up and get in the squad.”

Johnny laughed and pulled the door open and climbed inside.  He threw the vest on the floor board at his feet and gave his friend a crooked smile. This, he figured, was going to be the easiest eight hour shift he had ever worked…a dumping complaint.  He chuckled to himself as he settled back into the seat as the young officer steered the squad out of the parking lot. 

At 3:46pm John and Drew return to the squad and got in.  Drew reached for the mic and advised the dispatcher that they had cleared the scene and were available.

 John shook his head in amazement.

"Are you kidding me? These people called the police on their neighbors because the kid threw a candy wrapper on their lawn?"

"Yep," Drew replied, "This is an ongoing neighbor dispute.  What happens is they try to aggravated the hell out of each other and we, the police department, have become their "weapon of choice".  I have been here several times before. One shift I responded because the Jackson's dog walked on the Beaumont's front yard and peed, and then the Jackson's called back later that night because the Beaumont's back porch light was angled in a way that was too bright, and disturbed the Jackson's as they tried to watch TV.  We have talked until we are blue in the face to both of them....trying to get them to call a truce and reach some kind of understanding. We won't get any calls for a few weeks and think the problem is solved...and then it starts all over again." 

"Yea," the dark haired paramedic said with a frustrated nod.  "We have our frequent fliers as well. It is especially aggravating when you are tied up on these nothing runs when there are people out there that really need you."

“Exactly”

"2 David 8...2 David 10" the dispatcher interrupted, "Copy a theft in progress...Marvin's Liquor Store...1158 Lehman...1-1-5-8 Lehman.  Offender is described as a while male, early twenties, wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, and black jacket.  Taken was two bottles of top shelf liquor. Subject just took off running westbound on foot from the scene."           

"2 David 8...I copy.  Advise the complainant I will be checking the area Northwest of the scene before going in to see him."

"10-4"

"2 David 10 is enroute and will check the area to the Southwest," Drew acknowledged as he flipped on his lights and siren.  

The blonde haired officer reached the vicinity moments later and began driving up and down the streets his head moving back and forth...eyes searching for a glimpse of the perpetrator.  John found himself doing the same thing. After approximately fifteen minutes they had to conclude the suspect had gotten away.

"He may have had someone in a car waiting for him behind the building," Drew said in aggravation as he pulled up into the small parking lot in front of the liquor store.  They observed the complainant standing on the sidewalk just outside his establishment, wavy his arms about in a dramatic fashion. His lips moving at a frantic pace at the officer in front of him.  John looked over at his friend as they both climbed out of the squad and made their way over to assist.

"This is the THIRD TIME THIS MONTH! I am sick and tired of these drug addicts ripping me off!" the heavy set man bellowed. "When are you guys gonna do something about it!" The man shifted his view and gave the approaching two men an accusing look...as if the fault for this on-going travesty of criminal injustice fell squarely on their shoulders.

"Sir..."Parker began, "I understand your frustration, however, we cannot have an officer monitor your store at all times.  I can put in request to the Supervisor to increase patrol in this area.  It also might be a good idea to maybe move the more expensive alcohol to the back of the store instead of right by the door.  It may be more of a deterrent."

"SO... now you're saying it's MY fault?   Is that it?  Why should I have to be inconvenienced and re-arrange my store because of some thugs?"

"Sir, I am not saying it's your fault...I am simply trying to offer a suggestion that might help."

"What might HELP...is if you caught these assholes!  That's what would help," he shouted out before turning on his heels.  He ripped the door open and the bell hanging above clanked angrily as the irate man disappeared inside, still muttering obscenities under his breath.

"...and have a nice day," Parker stated to the closed door, and then looked over at Drew with an exasperated look on his face before making his way back to his squad.

"2 David 10...what's your status?"

"We're clear with an assist to 8....what have you got?"

"Hold up alarm at First National Bank...1010 Hillcrest...1-0-1-0 Hillcrest.  There is no answer on the call back.  2 David 6...can you also respond?"

"2 David 10...is enroute," Drew stated as he activated his emergency equipment.  A couple of blocks from the bank, he shut down the siren and rolled up silently on the scene, positioning himself in a location that he could observe the front door.

"2 David 10...I  am 23 at the front...no foot traffic visible."

"David 6 is rolling into position on the back."

John held his breath...waiting to see what would happen next. He could feel his heart rate increase as he his stared at the building, expecting a man welding a gun to burst out the door at any second.

 "... Units at the scene on Hillcrest" the dispatcher related a moment later, "I just received a call from inside the bank...they advised of an accidental activation.  The manager, Maryanne, wearing a black skirt and floral blouse will be stepping out the front."

"2 David 10...10-4...I see her and will be making contact."

John released his breath, and his heart rate returned to normal.  Drew drove closer to the building as the middle-aged dark haired woman walked down the steps and into the lot.  He pulled up next to her and put the car in park.

The woman gave him an apologetic smile as the young officer opened the door to his squad and stepped out.

"I am so sorry," she began, "we have a new employee that started just a few days ago and she hit the alarm by mistake."

Drew returned the smile. "It's okay ma'am...these things happened.  We're glad it was just a false alarm and you weren't actually robbed...and no one was hurt."

"It's nice to know that if, God forbid, something like this should truly happen that the officers are so quick to respond.  And again... I am very sorry for the inconvenience."

Drew pulled out a notebook and pen "No problem at all. Could I please just get some information for my report?"

"Oh...of course."

The blonde haired officer asked a few quick question before snapping his notebook shut. 

"That should do it. Thank you ma'am and enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thank you Officer....Burke,"  she said, eyeing at the name tag on his shirt. She gave him another quick smile before turning and hurrying back towards the building and up the steps.

The young officer returned and sat back down behind the wheelof the squad.

He grabbed the mic and keyed up, "2 David 10 is available....you can also clear 6 with an assist."

"10-4"

 Drew turned to his friend and opened his mouth to speak, but that was as far as he got.

"2 David 10...copy an assignment."

John Gage had to eat his words regarding the easy shift he had so prematurely anticipated. For the next several hours, the dispatcher had them running nonstop from call to call...all over town. 

                                                                                                 *****

At 8:25pm Drew pulled into a little burger joint. They were both starving and prayed the radio would remain silent, for even fifteen minutes, just enough time to put some form of sustenance into their mouths.

They reached the order window and quickly read through the menu.  It didn't take long.  There were only roughly ten items to choose from.

"Whatcha want?" a tall skinny boy about seventeen years of age asked.

"I'll take a cheeseburger with fries and a cup of coffee. Black." 

"Drew?"

"Same"

"Ok," the boy said as he calculated the amount. "that comes to..."

"2 David 10...copy assignment," the dispatcher blared from the HT.

With a heavy sigh, John resigned himself to the fact that his "words" would probably be pretty much ALL he would be getting to eat that night.

He gave Drew a disgusted look, "My God...how do they know?  I swear...how-do-they-know? These dispatchers must have some sixth sense when we are about to eat.  A damn alarm must go off somewhere," he said as he gave the teenage boy an embittered look and told him to cancel the order. He half expected the young man to repeat the all-too-familiar words his captain uttered when the paramedic team got a call during a meal...

"We'll put the chow in the oven for ya..."

The two men hurried back towards the vehicle they had just recently vacated. The young paramedic figured if he had a quarter for every time they had either missed a meal or eaten re-heated food he, John Roderick Gage, would be a rich man.

                                                                                                  *****

"2 David 12 with 2 David 10 to back...copy a burglary to residence in progress. 3190 Spruce  3-1-9-0 Spruce. Complainant is a neighbor.  She advised the family that lives there is out of town for the weekend.  There is a subject attempting to gain entry through a window.

"2 David 12...I copy" Officer Hernandez responded "Can the complainant advise which window?

"Stand by 12....checking."

"2 David 10 is enroute. Can you also determine the name of the people who reside here?" Drew inquired.

"Affirmative 10...will advise."

The squads turned onto Spruce street at nearly the same time. As if on cue both officers "darked out"  the vehicles and quietly rolled up, parking a couple of house away.

"Units responding to the Burglary in progress...complainant advised it is one of the windows at the back of the house.  Also, the name is Williamson...Doug and Emily Williamson."

"Roger that...both units are on the scene. Keep the complainant on the line and advise us if the subject gains entry."

"10-4"

The two officer's cautiously approached the house.  John Gage had exited the squad as well and followed at a safe distance.  It was getting dark, but he could still see well enough to make out the guns held securing in each officer's hand.  The young paramedic paused briefly...and entertained the thought of going back and hanging out in the squad. He, in no way, wanted to get in the middle of this situation. John had made a promise to the Captain to steer clear of any trouble...and he had every intention of keeping that promise. 

Another key motivating factor was he didn't  want to endure the lecture he knew would be coming from his partner.  When you worked with someone for twenty-four hours at a stretch; there was no escape.  You were at their mercy.  Roy DeSoto was really not the type of person that most would describe as overly talkative. However, John knew from firsthand experience, it just depended on the topic that was being discussed. When his partner was in full blown lecture mode, there was little any one could do to halt it.  Not even dangling by lines off the side of a cliff, waiting for the crew above to lower them the stokes, seemed like an inappropriate time to Roy.  They young man recalled that particular incident and he had given his partner one of his classic, "you have got to be kidding me" looks.

Roy had simply replied "What? We are just hangin here...waiting for equipment. Not like you have someplace else to go."  John had let out a defeated sigh, and glanced over at their unconscious victim.  And, for a brief moment, really envied him.

                                                                                                  *****

The officer's silently crept along the side of the house, working their way towards the back.  John had continued on until he found a spot in the neighbors yard that, he felt, was about as close as he wanted to get. The two uniformed men stopped just before making the turn at the corner of the house. They listened intently and heard a scraping sound and then a male voice mumbling to himself.

"Damn it...open.  Come ON....son of a bit..."

Hernandez turned to Drew.

"High - low.  I'll take the high." he mouthed.

Drew instantly understood and faced his body towards the house.  He knelt down on the ground and then raised his right knee; firmly planting his foot to steady his balance.  He grasped his gun with both hands, elbows bent, as he held it in front of him...muzzle pointed to the sky.  He was mindful to keep his body behind the line of cover the house provided.  He prepared to lean out to the right, extending his arms around the corner, and draw down on their suspect.

Hernandez moved in close and stood directly behind the younger officer, stopping when his legs came in contact with Drew's shoulders.  His hand were in the same position as the man below him.  

When the men were set, Hernandez gave the signal, and they both leaned out at the same time, aiming their weapons at the subject in front of them.

"POLICE....DON'T MOVE," the Hispanic officer shouted.

The startled man almost lost his balance on the plastic lawn chair he was standing on. He removed his hands from the window, and the officers saw the shadow of an object in his hand.

"What ...?  Oh shit, " the man said in shock as he tried to climb down from chair.

"I SAID DON'T  MOVE..."

"But I...but I...you don't understand."  His eyes then focused on the guns zeroed in on him. He froze;  staring at the officers in terror.

"Now...do exactly as I say. Do you understand?" Hernandez continued.

The man nodded.

"Good. Very slowly...throw the item that is in your hand on the ground."

 The man complied.

"Place both of your hands, palms first, on the window sill...and do not move from that position."

Once again the man complied.  Officer Hernandez did a quick visual canvas of their surroundings, but did not see any other threats.  He cautiously shifted to the side so the young officer beneath him could stand up. Together, the two men moved forward, and then Drew broke off and positioned himself at the suspect's flank.

"Okay buddy, what are you doing here?" Hernandez asked.

"Officer... I-I live here," the man stuttered. "I locked myself out of the house...I was just trying to get in."

"You live here uh? What's your name?"

"Doug...Doug Williamson.  The rest of my family is out of town.  I had some work to do and decided to stay home.  I forgot my keys...and was trying to get in with this screw driver." He jerked his head towards the ground, and the officer observed the tool lying in the grass.

"What's the address here? And also, what is your wife's name?" Drew asked.

"It's 3190 Spruce...and my wife is Emily.  I have identification...my driver's license. It is in my wallet."

The two officers lowered their guns and allowed the man to climb down from the chair. They eyed him cautiously as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a wallet. He procured the driver's license and Hernandez confirmed the information.

The man quickly recovered and immediately became angry.

"YOU GUYS ALMOST SHOT ME FOR GOD'S SAKE! FOR TRYING TO GET INTO MY OWN HOUSE!"

The Hispanic officer had a look of aggravation on his face.  He had been busy tonight as well, and it was evident he was tired and not in the mood for another person to yell at him.

"Mr. Williamson," Drew interject, sensing his partner's demeanor,  "We know you are upset and I understand that it had to be a terrifying experience to have two guns pointed at you."

"Your DAMN right it was."

"But I am asking you sir, to just look at this situation from our perspective.  We received a call for a burglary...in progress.  A neighbor called it in and advised us the residents were out of town for the weekend.  Mr. Williamson, we are never exactly sure of what we are walking into or who we are dealing with.  We train for these types of situations, to hopefully have an outcome where no one gets hurt.  If we start making assumption, believing what people tell us without verifying, letting our guard down, and deviate from how we are trained to respond...we may not go home at the end of the day.  I am sorry for what you were put through...but there is a reason. I hope you can understand that."

As the young officer was talking, the older man's face softened, and he inadvertently nodded his head up and down. Hernandez had stepped away to regain his composure, and advise the dispatcher that everything was alright and the "offender" had been the homeowner.

"I'm sorry officer.  I was just so mad at myself for getting locked out of the house.  I had a lousy day and this was just the breaking point for me.  And then when you guys showed up...I guess, I just assumed that you were over-reacting.  You know, I am grateful I have neighbors that pay attention to what's going on in the neighborhood, and cared enough to call.  I do understand, and once again, I am sorry for yelling at you guys...you were only doing your job."

"Thank you Mr. Williamson.  Now, as long as we are here, maybe we can see what we can do about helping you get into your house."

The man smiled."I think I will take you up on the offer...I  could use a hand."

                                                                                      *****

"So tell me," John stated turning to look at his friend as they cruised down the street. The radio traffic had finally calmed down for a few moments, and the young paramedic took advantage of it.

 "You like being a cop...dealing with all of this crap?"

Drew stared straight ahead at the road in front of him.  "Ya know Johnny, every job has it's good points and bad points.  I became a police officer for a lot of different reasons.  Mainly, because I really enjoy helping people.  I have to admit, it gets a little disheartening when the citizens don't appreciate what we do...or what we are willing to do.  Like at roll call for example, the traffic complaint about speeding vehicles.  There is a valid reason to keep cars from going too fast down a residential street, especially where there are a lot of kids in the neighborhood.  We hope to get compliance with a law that is put in place to help keep people safe.  But then when you enforce that law... people forget. Now you're the "bad guy" who is trying to fill a "quota" or should be out arresting the "real criminals" and not targeting them."

"Even on the domestics we go on; they call us and then get mad when we don't take sides, or won't kick the person out, or arrest them on some trumped up charge. We can't come in and solve a problem that has been in the works for ten years...in ten minutes. This isn't television."

He sighed..."About a year ago, I was responding as one of the back-up cars for a man with a gun.  I had been pretty much running from call to call most of the shift and barely had time to even go to the bathroom, much less get something to eat.  I was feeling like shit because of a bad head cold, but I couldn't call in sick because we were so short handed and I knew the Sarge would have a hell of a time finding a replacement for me...so I decided to just suck it up and push through. On top of that, I had just cleared a call where a young mother had left her infant alone in the tub "for just a few seconds"...and the child drowned."

Drew's jaw clenched at the memory of the little girl's lifeless body embraced in the distraught mother's arms. The woman had been pleading with him to do something, and he had tried, but he knew it was too late.  He blinked his eyes several times before continuing.

"So...uh, I was running hot to the man with a gun incident, dodging in and out of traffic, and had just gone through a red light at an intersection...when I got called off.  Dispatch advised it ended up being some teenager messing around pointing a toy gun at people in the park.  I had cleared the intersection and turned off my siren and the overheads.  I see a convenient  store and decided to pull in and get myself a cup of coffee, hoping it will get me through the remainder of my shift."

They reached a red light and Drew brought the vehicle to a stop; he turned to stare at his friend's face.

 "This guy followed me in the lot and approached me while I was inside the store. He proceeded to loudly express his displeasure to see his hard earned "tax dollars” being spent on a lazy officer who couldn't wait for the light to change...and had to use the emergency equipment to get his "coffee and donut" fix.  He gave me a good chewing out and I tried to explain the situation to him, but he wouldn't listen to a word I said.  Stated all I was doing was coming up with "lame excuses" for my actions and informed me he was going to call the Chief and file a complaint.  Then he turned around and stormed out."

"What did you do?"

The light turned green and the young man took his foot off the brake and depressed the accelerator. His eyes traveled back to the road in front of him.

"What could I do?  What can any of us do in that situation? It is all a matter of an individual's perspective, prejudices, and past experiences.  I'm not gonna lie...I was angry and frustrated.  Listen, I know there are some screw-offs out there, and I think it's a safe assumption to say the same holds true in every profession. But generally speaking most cops do the job... for the same reason fireman are willing to risk their lives. It's a calling...a passion.  Despite the dangers, we love what we do.  It's definitely not for the pay, or the privilege of working nights, weekends, and holidays.  Missing out on anniversary's, birthdays, and other special occasions, like your kids school programs or sporting events.  It also is really hard on our wives.  The loneness...or the fear of wondering if we will be coming home at the end of our shift.

.

"Then, there is also the enormous responsibility we carry of knowing you may have only seconds to make  life and death decisions that others will have the luxury of years to analyze and dissect. When a case finally gets dragged through the legal process, the defense attorneys are usually trying to show what a fine upstanding citizen their client is...and we, the officers, are portrayed as the bad guys who all of a suddenly can't do anything right, and are just looking for someone to take the blame so we can clear the crime with an arrest."

"It's a lot to deal with."

The dark haired paramedic nodded his head.  He and Roy and gone through some of the same feelings when they had finally become certified to legally act as  paramedics in the field.  Hell, at times, those feelings still plagued them.  They could go on runs for months at a time...start an IV, insert an esophageal airway, and administer all kinds of meds... pretty much in their sleep. But when you least expected it; something could go wrong.  The enormity of what was at stake could  be unnerving and shake you to your very core. The worry...the second guessing... It was tough. He could totally relate to what his friend was saying...and feeling.

"John," Drew said in a serious tone of voice, "I have been a police officer for about three years now.  I was young when I got hired, no more than a kid really,  and like most kids, I thought I had life all figured out.  This job has made me grow up...and grow up fast. A few months ago, I reached a crossroads, for lack of a better term. I was getting frustrated with all this "crap" as you so aptly put it. When I started, I had this vision of going to work every day and really making a difference.  Protecting the innocent, putting bad guys behind bars where they belong, patrolling my beat with the satisfaction that people were sleeping more soundly at night knowing that me and my shift were out there doing all we could to keep them safe.  And then...the bubble burst.  I was coming home at night, not with a feeling of satisfaction, but bitterness.  It seemed no one was happy, and I felt like I wasn't making a damn bit of difference.  People were taking their anger and frustration out on me that their car was burglarized, or that I didn't get to the call fast enough, or I was picking on them for writing a ticket, and the bad guys I did arrest were out on bond in a matter of hours... and right back at it.  One night, I arrested the same guy for retail theft...twice!  It, the job, wasn't what I expected. Then I sat down with Pam and we talked.  And I came back to remembering the reason why I had wanted to be a police officer in the first place..and I realized what was wrong."

His friend gave him questioning look.

"First of all, I didn't see the "good" that I was doing...and secondly, I placed an expectation on the public that I shouldn't have."

"I don't follow you" John replied.

"I wanted to make a difference...to help people.  And I do. But take into consideration the situations we are dealing with; and your job is really no different.  We see people when there is a problem...sometimes it's minor and sometimes it is life threatening. We see them when they are frustrated, hurt, scared, angry, in pain, battling an addiction problem, pissed off at society...or any number of other things.  Showing gratitude is not always possible for some of these people at the time we are dealing with them.  I realized that while it is nice to be appreciated for what we do...I understand that it is ME; I that must choose how to react.  I can get upset, take the negative criticism and comments to heart, get nasty with people, and go home and bring that attitude right through my front door...and project it onto my family.  Or, I can accept this part of the job, and do what I can to help people try to identify with things from a "police" perspective.  Just like I did with the man on that Residential Burglary from the last call.  I chose the path of understanding.  Lots of times it works. Some times...it doesn't.  But all we can do...is our best.  That's what matters most."

He continued to explain..."Listen, when people call us for whatever reason, they are concerned with the issue that is happening to them...not with what I may have had to deal with earlier. They don't realize that only a short time ago... I was holding a dead infant in my arms, or had just responded to an address on a runaway sixteen year old girl who had been bounced around foster care homes since she was five because her parents were abusing her, and now, she was pregnant, scared, and hiding in a bedroom closet wanting to kill herself. Or the drunk driver I just arrested who spit in my face, and threatened to find out where I lived so he could break into my house, while I was at work, and rape my wife..." 

He suddenly stopped and took a deep breath...

"Dealing with that kind of stuff day after day...it eventually gets to you.  We are not machines. Sometimes it's really hard to "switch gears" and go from calls like I just mentioned, to a man who wants me to referee a disagreement between his two kids over a television program; and then gets upset that I didn't show enough empathy for his situation."

 "Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people out there who appreciate what we do, like the lady at the bank for example...and tell us.  I don't mean to make it sound like the entire population is down on the police.  But every officer I have known has reached this crossroad as some point in their career, and some let it take hold and eat away at them. Not only in their attitudes about their job...but it changes who they are.  A lot of officers cannot deal with the stress and pressure...and they get burned out.  Some become alcoholics, have marital issues and get divorced, and sadly, there is also a  high rate of suicide as well."

"One thing I have discovered, on a personal level, is that being a cop is teaching me to be a better husband...and hopefully a better father."

John looked over at his friend with a puzzled expression on his face.  He didn't think the things Drew had talked about over the past few minutes would make anyone better... at anything.

Drew caught the look out of the corner of his eye and smiled as he explained.

"...Because that is what I have decided to take away from this job, and all the different types of situations I encounter.   I have seen the hurtful and devastating things people do to one another.  I put a 180 degree spin on it... and learn how I want to treat my wife, family, and others.  I have realized what a lucky man I am to have found such an amazing person to share the rest of my life with.  And I never want to lose that."

 "Pam...she is everything to me." 

"2 David 10...copy an assignment," the dispatcher interrupted.

Drew grinned and snatched the mic in his hand, bring it up to his mouth.

"2 David 10...go ahead."

"2 David 10... respond to the intersection of  Fairview and Elm for a juvenile problem...kids pretending to jump out in front of passing cars...no complainant to be seen."

"10-4"

As the young officer navigated the squad onto Fairview, he looked down the road at the next intersection.  The street lamp provided enough light for him to see three teenage boys trying, unsuccessfully, to conceal themselves behind a large parkway tree.  He pulled the squad over, shut off the headlights, and shifted it into park. The boys danced around with excited anticipation as they observed an older green Chevy coming their way. It was unfortunate for them that they were so engrossed with their next would-be victim, that they didn't see the two men approaching them on foot.

As the car reached the intersection, the boys sprung into action.

"HOLD IT..."Drew called out as three heads turned simultaneously to look in the direction the stern voice came from.  Their gleeful smiles quickly faded and were replaced by a look of dread.

"Busted," a curly red-headed boy whispered dejectedly.

The car slammed on the brakes, and the elderly woman driver glanced over at the boys with fear clearly written upon her face.  Her hands went up to cover her mouth and they could see she was visibly shaken.

"John, can you go check on driver and make sure she is ok...while I have a little chat with these three young men."

"You bet," he stated as he trotted over to the car.  Drew watched him lean into the open window and began calming the flustered woman down.

His attention turned back to the three boys.

"It was HIS idea," the curly red-headed boy piped up...pointing to his dark haired friend.

"It was just a joke. We were bored...we didn't mean nothin by it."

"Ah shut up Ricky...he's a grown up.  He's not gonna believe us."

"Actually Ricky, I do believe you," the officer responded as a look of disbelief spread across their faces.

"You...you do?"

"Yep, I believe that you didn't mean to do any harm...but you guys didn't think any further about what consequences your actions could have caused."

"Consequences?  But...it was just a joke.  We were just fooling around."

"Maybe to you three, but not to the drivers of those cars."

"Let me ask you something...Do you guys ride your bikes a lot?

Three heads bobbed up and down, and they pointed to their two wheeled modes of transportation lying in the grass nearby.

John Gage had sauntered back up to his friend after confirming the woman was okay...and listened as Drew continued.

"Let's say you were riding your bike real fast down the street...and a dog ran out right in front of you.  What would you do?"

"I-I would try to stop...or maybe go around him," Ricky said thoughtfully.

"And when you are going really fast, what happens when you try to use your brakes and stop quickly?"

"I did that once!" the red haired boy exclaimed, "I flew right over my handle bars...knocked out a tooth and broke my arm!"

Drew nodded his head.

"I bet that wasn't any fun...was it?" he said solemnly.

The boy shook his head back and forth... A sour expression appeared on his face as he recalled the incident.

"That’s a consequence.  Now, what do you think would happen if a person driving a car was suddenly startled?"

"They may get into an accident...and hit somethin."

"or... someone," Drew added.

"How would you feel if your mother or grandmother were hurt because of someone playing a practical joke...even if they didn't mean to cause any harm?”

The boys looked at each other as the "moral of the story" suddenly became clear.

"Officer, we are really sorry.  We...we won't ever do that again."

Drew smiled down at them.  "Good! that's what I wanted to hear.  Now, why don't you guys head home...ok? It's getting late."

"Yes sir," they said as they made their way to their bikes and peddled slowly down the sidewalk.

"Come on John," Drew chuckled as the two men walked back to the squad. "We have got to find a spot to park so I can try and knock out some of this paperwork.  I am absolutely buried.  Hey, do you remember that comment you made at the restaurant, about getting cramps from all the writing?  THAT part my friend...you weren’t wrong about,” Drew said with a smirk.

 When they arrived at the vehicle he opened the back door of his squad and reached in, unzipping the side pocket of his duty bag.  Finding what he wanted, the young officer backed out and threw a bag of chips and an apple at his friend who was already waiting in the passenger's seat.

"Here, I usually keep something in my bag for nights like this."

John cupped his hands together and caught the items with ease.

"Hey...thanks Drew."

He returned to his duty bag and proceeded to grab a clip board and various blank report forms before shutting the door.  He sat back down in the squad and slid the items in his hand in between the seats. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.  The young officer knew of a place he could park and get to work on his reports, and turned the squad in that direction.  A short time later he pulled up and parked in the lot; directly in front of Marvin's liquors. 

"Hey," John replied looking at his surroundings. "This is where we were earlier...for the guy who stole the booze."

Drew nodded.  He saw the owner glance out through the store window as they pulled up.

"The way I see it, I need a place to park to write my reports, and we have a business owner in town that wants to see that the police are addressing his concerns by having more of a presence around his store.  It is a win-win situation."

Drew pulled out his clipboard and forms from between the seats, along with the notebook from his shirt pocket.  He organized all these items on the dashboard in front of him and then turned on a small lamp that provided him with enough light to see what he was doing.  Satisfied with the arrangements, he grabbed his clipboard and one of the forms and started writing. John settled back in the seat and tore open the bag of chips as he contemplated the runs that had been on that night, as well the things Drew had shared with him. He was glad that he had done this ride along with his friend.  It helped him better understand what the officers on the street had to deal with.  And he realized, for the first time, how much their two professions really did have in common.

                                                                                           *****

Drew worked in silence, glancing occasionally at his notebook to retrieve or confirm some piece of information. The only sounds in the car was the occasion shuffling of papers, and the officer's pen as he scribble furiously on the sheets in front of him.  The dispatcher periodically broke the otherwise quiet setting to dispatch assignments, but mercifully, none were for them.  John knew his friend was taking advantage of the lull in calls...which would explain his hurried pace to try and get as much done as possible.

The apple and chips were long gone, and while it was better that nothing, it did very little to suppress the hunger John still felt. He did find that the salt from the chips had made him extremely thirsty.

"Drew," he said to his friend, hating to interrupt his concentration.

"Yah," the young man said without looking up...or ceasing his activity.

"I'm going to go into the store here and grab a can of pop.  You want something?"

"Yea sure...I could go for a coke...thanks."

The dark haired paramedic exited the squad and walked the short distance to the store.  He pulled open the door and heard the clanking of the bell that announced his arrival. He walked over to the upright refrigerators and selected a six pack of Coke, figuring he could leave what was left over at the station for the guys...someone would drink it. The young man idly wondered if he was going to have to endure another round of the owner's wrath as he approached the register and set the cans on the counter.

The man rang up his total as John reached for his wallet.

"That will be .92 cents."

John offered up the dollar bill and accepted the change that was returned to him. He grabbed the coke and started to turn to make his way out.

"I...uh, appreciate you guys sitting out in front of my store....thanks," the man said gruffly.

John paused and gave him smile.  "You're welcome...have a good night."

The man nodded and the young paramedic continued to make his way out the door and climbed back into his spot in the squad.

John handed a can to his friend...and then opened one for himself.

"Thanks," the officer said gratefully.

"Just thought you might want to know," he said as he prepared to take a sip. "The owner in there noticed us sitting out here..."

Drew looked over at his friend...

" He appreciated it and also said thanks."

Drew flashed him a satisfied smile...he really did love his job.

                                                                                         *****

At 10:09pm Drew heard 2 David 6 pull a traffic stop a short distance from their location. He stopped writing and gathered all the paperwork, stowing it in the back compartment of his metal clipboard. He flipped the little notebook shut, and shoved it back into his breast pocket. The pen too, was returned to its customary position.

"What's up," John asked.

"We are gonna head over to Thompson's stop...make sure everything is ok.  We generally try to swing by when one of us knocks down a car.  It's hard for one person to keep an eye on traffic, the violator, and multiple occupants."

They turned the corner and could see the bright flashing lights of the squad car a couple of blocks up the street.  As they approached, Drew could see Thompson already had the subject, a man in his early 30's with straggly blonde hair, out of the car.  They were standing in the parkway a few feet from the curb.  He flipped on his lights as he rolled to a stop, and put the car in park.

"2 David 10 is out with 6 on his stop."

"10-4 David 10."

"Why are you hassling me? I haven't done nothin wrong?" the blonde haired man stated adamantly.

"Sir, you ran the red light back there...and I need to see your driver's license," Thompson stated.

"I didn't run no red light...It was YELLOW."

"Sir, I'm not going to argue with you...now, please hand over your driver's lic.."

Drew and John had exited the vehicle and were at the back of Thompson's squad when they saw the man lunge at the officer in front of him.  Thompson reacted quickly and reached forwarded grabbing the subject's right wrist and bicep.  He side-stepped avoiding a strike to the face as the enraged man swung with the other arm, his hand closed tightly in a fist.

Drew broke into a run and reached the grappling men seconds later. He immediately gained control of the subject's free arm, and working together, the two officer's brought the struggling man to the ground and got him cuffed. 

Thompson pulled the subject to his feet and Drew patted him down, doing a thorough search. 

"He's clean."

"So," Joe stated addressing his arrestee "You wanted....or suspended?"

"Both...Pig."

"What are you wanted for?"

"Officially?  Battery to a police officer. Too bad I couldn't get another one under my belt before I go back into the slammer." He glanced over at Drew before turning back to the man in front of him.

"You're lucky."

Joe Thompson walked the prisoner to his squad and secured him in the back seat.  He looked over his shoulder at the younger officer.

 "Hey thanks Drew.... for having my back."

"Anytime Joe."

The two man got back into the squad and Drew waited until Thompson had pulled away and advised dispatch he was enroute to the station with his prisoner.  The tow truck had arrived and the operator jumped out and starting hooking up the offender's vehicle.  Ten minutes later, the man gave them a wave indicating he was done, and hopped back into the cab of his truck.  Drew glanced at his watch and decided it was too late to try and start his paperwork again...he figured he would come in a little early tomorrow and get the rest of it done. He was more than ready to call it a night.

                                                                                              *****

 At 10:44pm, John made a feeble attempt to stifle a yawn… and then gave up and let it come. So much for an “easy eight hour shift.” They had been running their tail ends off pretty much the entire night, and the young paramedic was more than ready to go home and collapse into bed. It didn’t help matters that he was still suffering from the effects of the church rescue...and that he and Roy had been toned out three times during the previous night on medic runs, and as a result, hadn’t gotten much sleep. The young man, generally speaking, had seemingly infinite energy, but tonight he was extremely grateful for the eight hour shifts Drew worked versus his twenty-four at the Fire Department. His stomach was also protesting loudly at not being adequately fed, and John wondered if there was something in his apartment that would hold him over until he could hit the market the following day.

 The blonde officer looked at his friend and noted the dog-tired look on his face. It had been an exceptionally busy night; even by his standards. He turned the corner, noting the time, and headed the squad southbound towards the station.  At the next intersection a red Camero heading westbound, blew through a stop sign right in front of them. Drew sighed and figured he would pull a quick traffic stop and give the guy a warning.  He was tired too and wanted nothing more than to get home and crawl into bed next to his pregnant wife and wrap her tightly in his embrace. He smiled at the thought. 

John witnessed the traffic infraction as well, and did a slanting glance to his friend. Drew grinned back at him as his flipped the overheads on and made the turn to get behind the vehicle…hitting the accelerator to catch up.

“Sorry buddy…duty calls,” Drew replied. “It’s really no different then you and Roy having a person collapse fifteen minutes before the end of your shift.  This stuff just comes with the job. Don’t worry, I am just gonna run a quick check on him, give him a warning, and cut him loose.”

The squad caught up to the violator; however he did not pull over.  Drew hit his siren to get the driver’s attention.  With that, the vehicle abruptly made a hard right…taking the turn entirely too fast.  The vehicle jerked wildly back and forth as the driver struggled to regain control; the tires squealing loudly in protest at the abuse.  A plume of smoke erupted as they spun furiously in place, and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. The vehicle finally righted itself and the engine roared as the car accelerated; picking up speed once again when it hit the straightaway. 

Drew’s instincts quickly went into high alert… the tiredness now replaced by adrenaline.

*****

“Carl…CARL!” the young man in the passenger seat screamed.  “What are we gonna do?”  He twisted his body to look behind them…sheer panic registered on his face.  “They are still behind us!  “Man… I can’t go back to jail!”

“SHUT UP EDDIE!” the twenty year old driver growled out. His eyes shifted to look in the rear view mirror as he saw the squad car bearing down on them…lights and sirens blaring. He gripped the steering wheel in his sweaty palms as he pushed his right foot down even harder on the accelerator.

 Drew reached over and grabbed the mic off of its mount and brought it to his lips…

“Dispatch this is 2 David 10… we are in pursuit of a red Chevy Camero… copy a 10-28,” Drew said as he keyed up.

“Go ahead 2 David 10,” the dispatcher stated.

“534 A…Adam C…Charlie…R…Robert repeating 534ACR. We are heading Westbound on Market Street from Orchard. The vehicle has two occupants in the front seat…requesting back up.”

“We are 10-4 on your traffic…units in the area able to assist 2 David 10 please acknowledge.”

“2 David 8 is enroute.”

“David 6 and 12 are rolling from the PD.”

 “2 David 10…I have three units enroute to assist. Be advised the plate on that vehicle is coming back 10-99… What is your current location?”

“ David 10 …I copy. We are still Westbound on Market…passing Walensa.”

“Wha….,” John started to ask.

“That means it’s stolen,” Drew explained without looking over…anticipating what his friend was about to ask.

“2 David 10…additional information…the suspects apparently committed a robbery and then stole a patron’s vehicle,” dispatch advised.

“Roger that.”

“Looks like we found our bad guys,” Drew thought with satisfaction.

All of a sudden, the red vehicle hit the brakes slowing the car enough to make a quick left turn down a side street.

Drew called out to the new direction to the responding units, and then turned to look at John. 

“This is a dead end street…so they are trapped.  The offenders are probably going to bail out and take off running in different directions.  Just sit tight…ok?”

“Ya…I’m definitely good with that plan,” John replied.

                                                                                                  *****

“DAMN IT!” Carl screamed in frustration as he realized he had nowhere to go.   He slammed on the brakes and threw the vehicle into park.  He looked over at the young man sitting next to him and nodded his head.  

“There is no other way,” Carl stated firmly as he read the hesitation on his partner’s face.

Eddie closed his eyes briefly and slowly nodded back. He opened them again…and closed his fist around the handle of the door.

 “Ok…let’s do this,” he replied with acceptance in his voice.

 Seeing the vehicle come to a stop, Drew also brought his squad to a screeching halt and shifted it rapidly into park.  They could hear the sound of sirens in the distance as the doors of the Camero suddenly flew open and the two offenders exited;

…but they did not flee as the young officer had predicted.

Instead, they turn and faced their pursuers. John’s stare was fixated on the men before him…and then his eyes moved to the guns that were being raised and pointed straight at them.  Drew scrambled to exit the squad and drew his own pistol from its holster.

“I’m sorry John,” his friend barely managed to get out before the sound of gunfire filled the air.

John Gage threw himself across the seat just as the squad car was pelted with bullets.  He covered his head with his arms as he now found himself lying face down on the seat Drew had just vacated. He could hear the damage being inflicted on the car as the bullets pinked off the metal frame.  The windshield finally shattered with a deafening crash as the assault continued.  Above the noise, the young paramedic could hear the sound of sirens in the distant background. His thoughts went to his friend and a sick realization erupted in the pit of his stomach.

In all probability Drew was most likely dead. He doubted the young officer, with no cover to protect him, could have survived the barrage of bullets. 

The gunfire subsided as quickly as it had started, and John carefully removed his arms from his head. The driver’s side door, which Drew had left open, gave John a clear view. 

His friend was down. They dark haired paramedic could see the blue uniform pants and booted feet.

The young police officer did not move.

John, while still maintaining his position, reached his hand back to the dashboard and grabbed the mic bringing it to his mouth.

“Dispatch…this is 2 David 10…shots fired…officer down. We need immediate assistance…and have the paramedics stage."

“2 David 10…we copy.  All units…I need a clear channel…we have shots fired and an officer down.”

John didn’t bother replacing the mic on the bracket, but simply tossed it onto the floorboard. His mind assessed three things in rapid succession; Drew’s status, his current predicament, and his own injuries. He knew help was on the way, but didn’t know for sure how far away they were.  The last few seconds had already seemed like hours.  Time had, for all intensive purposes, seemed to stand still. He still didn’t know if the two suspects were dead, had fled the scene, or where waiting for him to make an appearance and pick him off. John did a quick self assessment and could tell he was bleeding from some cuts inflicted from the flying glass, which was now embedded in his skin, but otherwise he seemed to be unharmed.  Instinctually, he wanted to move to his friend to find out how seriously he was hurt…praying with every fiber of his being that he was still alive.

 Precious seconds were ticking away…

With his heart pumping wildly, he decided to he could wait no longer and had to take the risk the suspects were gone…or incapacitated. He would hopefully either save his friends life…or die trying.  As John started to inch forward towards the driver’s door, he caught a glimpse of a shadow making its way toward the passenger’s side of the squad. 

He held his breath.

“Carl?” a tentative voice called out. “CARL? Are you ok?”

There was no response.

“Shit,” John’s heart plummeted all the way down to his shoes. 

“OH MY GOD…CARL!  NO,” the man screamed in agony.

John Gage quickly realized, not only  the outcome of Carl’s encounter with Drew, but the second suspect was, unfortunately for him, still on the scene. He had apparently fared much better than his partner during the exchange of gunfire. The young paramedic evaluated his situation; it didn't take him long to arrive at the conclusion that he was trapped...and at this man’s mercy. It also didn't appear, judging from the tone of Eddie's voice, that handing out mercy or forgiveness was an option the irate man would be willing to take under consideration.

                                                                                            *****

John knew the responding units were getting close, but he was afraid they were not going to arrive in time to prevent what was about to happen in the next few seconds. The shadow came closer and a body soon appeared in the open passenger side window.  A look of absolute rage was clearly evident on the young man’s face. For the second time that night, John watched as a gun was raised and pointed directly at him. He looked desperately around the interior of the squad hoping to find something to defend himself with.  The dark brown eyes came to rest on the bullet proof vest he had so carelessly tossed on the floorboards of the front seat at the beginning of the shift. 

Drew’s words came back to him as he remembered his friend handing it to him after roll call…

 “Here….ya never know.  Better to be safe than sorry."

He lunged for it in one swift movement, and pulled is across his head and upper body, protecting his vital organs as best as he could.

There was nothing more he could do.

“I’m sorry Drew,” John repeated his friends words knowing he would probably be dead himself, or in little condition to render any aid to his fallen buddy.

John closed his eyes and waited for it to happen. In those final seconds, he thought fondly of his Aunt Rose, Roy and his family, his crewmates, his friends at the hospital, Pam, and…Katie. Despite the rough and sometimes painful situations he had endured in his twenty-three years of life…he had landed on his feet, and was extremely blessed by the amazing people he now considered his family.

Eddie had reached the squad car and pointed the gun through the open passenger's side window.

“You can join your dead pig of a partner,” he uttered with contempt before pulling the trigger. 

Two more rounds burst forth from the weapon; the loud blasts caused the young paramedic's ears to ring painfully.  However the sound was followed by a rapid succession of clicks.  John Gage was not what anyone would consider a seasoned expert on firearms.  But he knew enough to know a click either meant a malfunction or the guy was out of ammo. Either way, he didn’t give a damn. It was an opportunity…and he was not about to waste it.

The adrenaline now coursing through his body was palpable as the young paramedic seized his chance, knowing it would be the only one. He threw the vest to the side…not even realizing if or where he had been shot.  Fury was creeping into him as his assailant swore and brought the gun back towards him with one hand, and started loading additional rounds into the chamber with the other.  John hooked the tip of his shoe on the door handle and tried to finagle it open. 

His first attempt failed. 

He looked up in time to see Eddie flick his wrist, closing the now loaded chamber of the gun. The young man’s dark seedy eyes traveled back to his soon-to-be victim…a small smile appeared on his lips.

John renewed his efforts…and this time he succeeded. The lock released and the door opened ever so slightly. As Eddie raised the gun yet a third time, John pulled his knees into his chest and kicked the door with everything he had.  Eddie, who was standing right in front of it, was catapulted backwards; the gun flying out of his hand.

John scrambled to flip his body around and exit out the passenger door.  He needed to keep the weapon away from the subject and get the man under control until the other units arrived.  As he crawled out of the car, he saw Eddie recovering quickly and the young man’s eyes searched the ground frantically for the gun.  They both spied it lying in the grass a few feet away, and made a diving motion for it.  Eddie beat him to it, but John, his adrenaline and anger peaking, had his hands close in around the young man’s wrists.  The two struggled and fought for control as the responding squads rolled up on the scene and the men bailed out of their cars.

                                                                                                  *****

Drew Burke watched as the red Camero came to a screeching halt.  He knew the backup units were still a distance away, and his was mind was quickly scanning and assessing the situation…trying to anticipate the suspects actions and react accordingly.  From his training and experience he did not believe for a minute the two offenders would come out with their hands up and surrender.  They had been willing to risk too much in their attempt to flee.  The only reason this had come to an end was because they had made a mistake…and turned onto a dead end street.

In addition to the felony stop he was now facing, Drew also had the added concern for his unarmed friend’s safety.  He did not want to see John get hurt, and had a momentary feeling of guilt washed over him.  He had kind of goaded his friend into doing this ride along...to prove a something.  Now, he wished nothing more than to go back and change things.  It seemed a moot point.  In retrospect, their jobs had a lot of similarities and both were dangerous; one no more than the other.  The two men risked their lives for others, just in different ways.  It was two sides…of the same coin.

Drew had already decided if both suspects fled, he would engage in a foot pursuit of the driver.  If only one fled, he would remain at the scene to protect his friend.  As the doors on the vehicle flew open, the last and worst possible scenario began to unfold. 

Both suspects did not flee, but turned and faced the squad car; the streetlight illuminating the guns brandished in their hands.

Drew did not hesitate. He moved to open the driver’s side door with his left hand, while his right un-holstered his gun.

“I’m sorry John,” he called out as his pushed himself out of the car.  His mind deviated for a split second as he thought of his wife and unborn baby.

“I love you Pam…and our child.”

                                                                                                *****

Carl and Eddie got off the first shots, which struck the squad car and several flew inches from the young officer.  Drew raised his gun and focused on his front sight as he pulled the trigger.  He heard the windshield getting peppered with bullets, but couldn’t take his eyes from the targets in front of him to check on John.  He hoped like hell his friend had dropped to the floor of the car. And then…he felt it.

A searing pain exploded in his left thigh, which was quickly followed by two rounds that hit him in the chest. The force of the blows were felt as they struck and were absorbed by the ballistic vest. He knew instinctively there would be bruising; but that, right now, was the least of his problems.

He fought through the pain, and knowing his gun was out of ammo, he reached to his belt to retrieve a speed loader.  As the rounds dropped into the guns waiting chamber he noted that the driver was down…but he was managing, with great difficulty, to hoist his weapon a final time.  The shot that rang out hit the young officer in the neck.  Drew's eyes widened in shock as the bullet penetrated his flesh. His mouth opened and he took several gulps of air before his legs gave out and he hit the ground.  Carl watched the officer fall with satisfaction as the gun slipped from his own fingers. A trickle of blood flowed from his mouth and slowly began to form a small crimson pool upon the pavement. His unfocused eyes remained open, but unseeing, at the officer he had just shot.

                                                                                           *****

John struggled with the young man on the ground; each one was fighting with everything they had. John's already sore body protested at the exertion, but he fought on.  Eddie's eyes blazed with pure hatred at the young paramedic, and then his attention was suddenly diverted as he identified another threat.  He changed tactics and mustered all his energy to raise and point the gun at the officer closing in on him.  With his index finger on the trigger, Eddie squeezed hard, sending a single bullet flying into the air. 

It was enough.

The bullet struck him in the face, entering the socket of his right eye, as the force imbedded the projectile in his brain.

 Officer Joe Thompson never knew what hit him...He died just moments later.

The other officers scattered for cover and John, out of the corner of his eye, had seen the officer go down.  He didn't want Eddie to get another shot off, but in order to gain better control he needed to use more than just his hands.  John climbed to his knees, and then planted his left foot solidly on the ground, giving him some leverage. Eddie was pulling the gun back, and the young paramedic pushed off and launched his body forward. As the weight of John's body came down on Eddie, the man rolled, the gun went off again.

This time John Gage knew exactly where the bullet went.

He recoiled as the metal entered his body, and he slowly started to slide off his attacker and onto the grass.  At the same time, he heard officers screaming directives and multiple bodies were now literally dog-piling on top of Eddie.

"I've got the gun...I got the gun...get this asshole cuffed!" commanded Sergeant Taylor.

"John?  John? Are you ok...were you hit?"

The young paramedic knew the answer to that particular question.  The bullet had entered on his right side...but where it went after that, he wasn't sure.  He did not feel any pain in his back indicating an exit wound. At such close range, he thought for sure it would have travelled all the way through his body.  John shook his head and pushed the thoughts from his mind.  Despite his injury, John knew, that for now at least, he could still function.  And as long as he could, his energies were going to be focused on Drew.  He had to know...to see for himself.

John forced himself to a standing position, and amongst all the upheaval, was able to avoid answering the Sergeants question.  He was glad that he had opted to wear a dark colored shirt tonight...otherwise he never would have been able to hide the blood that he could feel was already saturating the fabric.

 "Have someone check on Thompson and the other guy...the driver.  He was injured too," John called to the man in charge.

 "We already did. It's too late...Thompson...h-he is gone," the Sergeant replied.

The young man felt a quick rush of guilt consume him. He and Drew had talked to the officer on that last call; just a mere half hour ago. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. If only he could have gotten a better grip on the subject, controlled his hands, Joe Thompson might still be alive. He took a frustrated breath, and winched in pain.

"I have to get to Drew," he stated with determination as he began to move towards the location he last saw his friend.

"JOHN...STOP." the Sergeant ordered. "FOSTER...you and Harrison go check on the status of the driver.  And for GOD SAKES...take a tactical approach.  Understood?"

"Yes Sir!"

John Gage continued to move forward.  He suddenly felt two strong hands firmly clamp down on his shoulders...jerking him to stop.

He turned around to see Foster and Harrison behind him.

"Let go!" he ground out in an irritated voice.

"John...just wait until we get the scene secure ok?  We know you want to get to Drew, but we don't need you getting shot too.  Just hang tight for a minute,” Foster stated.

"Too late on that," the dark haired paramedic thought bitterly.

 Foster and Harrison cautiously moved about Drew's squad with their guns drawn and ready to fire. They closed in on the suspect on the ground.  A few moments later, Foster gave the all clear.

John finally made it to his friend.

"DREW...DREW?  Can you hear me?"

The young paramedic quickly checked his friend's body.  His eyes immediately focused in on the gunshot wound to his neck.  It wasn't bleeding profusely which meant the artery wasn't hit, but the location...

John's hand went directly to the uninjured side of Drew's neck to check for a carotid pulse.  He felt a huge sense of relief as he palpated a beat...and then another. It was slow and weak, but it was there.  Other officers, including Sergeant Taylor, came running up to them and reached out for their fallen brother.

"Don't touch him," he instructed. “We can't risk moving his neck. If the bullet is still in there, it could be in a critical spot, and one wrong move could kill or paralyze him."

The officers immediately withdrew their hands and the pain and concern they were feeling was clearly evident by the looks on their face.

John carefully felt around the back of Drew's neck and then checked his hands. There was no blood...and he knew the shot was not a through and through.  It was lodged somewhere in his friend's body.

He glanced up and saw the paramedic team from Station 24, Eric Harper and Danny Kohler, jogging towards him.

"What have we got Johnny?" Eric asked as the two men set the various equipment on the ground and looked at him with expectant eyes.

"So far a gunshot wound to the neck... I haven't had a chance to do a full assessment yet. We're gonna need a backboard, c-collar, and sand bags. Also get him on 6 liters of 02, bandage that neck wound, and grab his vitals. We need to get on the horn to Rampart and get a line going on him," he barked out in rapid fire voice.

The two paramedics gave their off-duty colleague a questioning stare which clearly indicated they did not appreciate his tone of voice. Upon closer inspection, they noted the young man's disheveled appearance, rapid breathing, and sweat that was rolling steadily down his face.

He caught the stares and explained. "Listen, I just spent the last several minutes fighting for my life" he indicated as he acknowledged his current state. "And...I'm sorry, but he's a friend," John replied looking down at Drew, "a very close friend."

The expression on the men's faces changed immediately as they nodded their understanding. They jumped into action; getting the additional equipment and started to gather their patient's vitals. The dark haired paramedic continued checking Drew's body for additional injuries, knowing with certainty that he would undoubtedly find more.

John located the second gunshot wound and immediately started to apply pressure with his bare hand to control the bleeding.

"Danny," he said "Can ya toss me a pressure dressing and some curlex...he has another gunshot wound to his upper left thigh. It looks like the femoral artery may have been nicked."  

"Yea, here ya go," Danny replied.

John caught the items, grimacing slightly, as he raised his arms. The pain was getting worse and he was starting to feel the effects of his injury.  Danny gave him a concerned look, and was about to ask the young medic if he was ok.  John recovered and turned away, sensing the unspoken question, and proceeded to get to work applying the dressing. His eyes continued to scan the officer's body and stopped as he noted the two holes in Drew's shirt near his heart.  He quickly finished his current task and moved to unbutton Drew's shirt and pull apart the Velcro straps on the top and sides of the ballistic vest. He gently eased the front panel off.

“Eric, I  need your scissors."

The paramedic nodded and reached around to the holder on his belt and snatched the requested item, quickly placing it in the outstretched hand.

"Thanks"

John cut away his friends t-shirt and was relieved to see the body armor had done its job. There was some impact bruising beginning to show on his chest, but that was a much more desirable outcome then what it could have been.

The three men continued to work diligently over the injured man as Officer Harrison approached them.

"The driver is dead," he said in a flat voice. "Is Drew...is he gonna pull through?"

"We just don't know yet," one of the paramedics responded "He is in pretty bad shape."

"Yes…he is gonna make it," Johnny thought as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

The ambulance arrived and the attendants jumped out and hurriedly opened the back doors, reaching in to grab the gurney. Johnny leaned in close to his friend's head. He could tell that his neglected injury was going to win out on his resolve, and he was not going to be able to ignore it much longer.  But he had accomplished his goal...and that was to keep his friend alive. He just hoped it was enough.

"Drew," he choked out as he took hold of his friends arm "you need to fight...for Pam and the baby.  You are one of my closest friends...I-I don't want to lose you."

He hoped to see Drew's eyes open, even for a second, indicating he had heard his words, but the blonde haired man remained still. 

"Let's get him loaded up," he heard a voice instruct.

John reluctantly let go of his friend's arm...and moved away. 

As he started to stand up, his surroundings began to shrink into pinpoints.

"John?" he heard a voice call out, as he lost consciousness and collapsed before the astonished men before him.

The officers were able to reach out and grabbed him before he hit the ground.

"What's going on?"  Sergeant Taylor demanded as he came running over.

Eric, who had already been seated in the ambulance next to his patient, sprung out the open doors and onto the ground. He knelt next to the unconscious man and seized his wrist, checking for a pulse.  After confirming one existed, his eyes moved to John's stomach. The up and down movement also confirmed he was still breathing.  It didn't take him long to discover what the problem was.

"JESUS...he has been shot too! Danny get over here...and grab the drug box and biophone out of the ambulance," he shouted to his partner who had returned to the squad.

"I asked him.  I ASKED him! Why the hell didn't he say something?"

The paramedic looked up into the Sergeant's face.

"Because the officer who was hurt is a close friend of his...and John is a fireman.  He is used to putting others needs ahead of his own, especially under these circumstances."

Taylor gave him a hard glare. It was evident the man was unaccustomed to people not following his orders.

"Sergeant, I know he should have said something, but his intentions were good.  John did what he felt was right."

Sergeant Taylor picked up his radio "Dispatch this is 2 David 30...I need another ambulance and medic crew at this location."

Eric look up as his partner came rushing towards him.

"What the hell happened?" Danny said as he dropped the orange and black cases back onto the ground.

"Johnny was also shot...and apparently didn't feel it was worth mentioning. Let's get his vitals and notify Rampart.  We know they are gonna order an IV, and we can get him going on that before the other medics get here.  This guy," he motioned over to Drew, "can't wait.  I will go on in with him...and you can stay with Johnny and assist the other crew."

"Ok Eric, sounds good," he agreed as he began doing a more thorough check on the unconscious paramedic.

Eric swung the biophone around, threw open the lid, and reached in for the handset.

"Rampart, this is Rescue 24....how do you copy?"

"This is Rampart," answered a female voice, "we copy you loud and clear, go ahead."

"Rampart, we have an additional victim...a male, twenty-three years old. He is unconscious, suffering from a gunshot wound to upper the right quadrant, lateral to the median plane.  We are unable to locate an exit wound. Stand by for vitals...

"BP 96/64...pulse 54...respirations 20 and labored", Danny advised.

Eric  squeezed the receiver and related the information.

"10-4" Dr. Joe Early responded. Control any bleeding, get him on 6 liters of 02, and start an IV with D5W to keep open.  Monitor his vitals and get him in here as soon as possible."

"10-4 Rampart. I will be going in with our first victim, and my partner is waiting on an additional squad and ambulance to transport the second."

"10-4"

"You good?" Eric asked as he stood up and prepared to get back in the ambulance. 

"Yea...you go on ahead. The guys from 99 should be here soon.  I got him."

Eric took a last look at John Gage before turning and climbing back into the ambulance. The attendants slammed the doors shut behind him and seconds later it pulled away, siren blaring.

Danny got the IV started and thrust the bag into the hands of Officer Harrison who was crouched down eyeing the unconscious man with obvious concern. Ten minutes later, John Gage let out a low moan and began to stir.  Danny leaned over and checked the drip on the IV bag as the injured paramedic slowly opened his eyes and looked around him.

"Hey there Johnny...welcome back.  How are ya feelin?" the medic asked.

"Like I've been s-shot...h-how's Drew?"

"Eric is already enroute to Rampart with him.  The other ambulance is just pulling up and we are going get you loaded up and on your way as well.  I will ride in with you, and one of the guys from 99 can bring my squad in."

"Ok" he nodded to the attendants, "let's move him out."                       

                                                                                              *****      

At 11:47pm the ambulance arrived at Rampart and backed up to the ER.  As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Danny pushed opened the doors as the waiting attendants helped pull the gurney out of the back.

They wheeled it into the building and Danny noted the rapid approach of Dr. Early and Nurse McCall. The two reached the gurney, which had come to a stop, and glanced down at the patient.

"How is he do..." Joe began and stopped short; his face widened in surprise at the person lying before him.

"Johnny?” the head nurse blurted out, "Oh my God." Her hand closed in around the young paramedic's arm.

"Hey..." he acknowledged them in a weak voice.

"Doc," Danny replied, knowing what the man was initially going to ask. "He is stable and was conscious the whole time in the ambulance."

Joe Early nodded and eyed the two attendants. "Ok...Let's get him into room four."

The two men put the gurney back in motion and maneuvered it down the hallway and into the room. John blinked his eyes rapidly trying to push back the pain as they lifted and transferred him from the gurney to the exam table.

"How...h-how is Drew?" he managed to get out to, "Is h-he gonna be o-ok?"

"Johnny...let's worry about you right now."

He turned to look at the pretty older nurse and said, "Dix, go ahead... you can s-say it. I know you w-want to."

"Say what Hon?" she asked as she busied herself hanging his IV and preparing to get another set of vitals.

"I told you...s-so," he flinched as Dr. Joe Early removed the bandage and began examining the wound.

"There will be plenty of time for that later...when we get you sorted out."

"Yea, most p-people when they get h-hurt would be thrown a get-well party.  Me...It will be an "I told you so" p-party.  Can't wait to hear the s-speeches...they're going to be c-classic."

"Dix," he said turning the conversation back to his friend, "Can you go check on Drew for me...please. H-he wasn't in good shape. I need to k-know?" The deep brown eyes implored.

She glanced up at the gray haired doctor.

 "Go ahead Dix...and send Carol in to give me a hand.  While you're at it, you might want to give Roy a call, he is gonna want to know that Johnny is here...and why."

"Ahhhhh... Dix no. Please...y-you know Roy. C-can I make a d-deal with y-ya?"

"Yes, I do know Roy.  And sorry my dear boy...no deal.  You are the one who listed him as your emergency contact...and since this is an emergency room, and you have a bullet currently taking up residence in your gut, I think it more than qualifies," she said in a no-nonsense voice before disappearing through the door.

Joe Early looked down at his patient as the young man's eyes continued to stare at the closed door.

"John," the doctor said shaking his head, "you really didn't think that was going to work...did you?"

"No," he said with a heavy sigh, "but I had to g-give it a t-try."

                                                                                                  *****

Dixie McCall pushed the door open to treatment room one. She saw Dr. Brackett engrossed in his examination of the young officer.  He shook his head in frustration.

"How is he Kel?" she asked.

"Not very good I'm afraid...it is going to be touch and go.  I am really concerned about the location of that bullet in his neck," he said as he folded his arms across his chest, "I am waiting on the x-rays for confirmation before we get him into surgery."

"Let's get another IV started on him," he instructed the new nurse who was standing on the opposite side of the exam table, giving him anxious looks.

Margie Stillman just recently graduated nursing school and had started working in the Rampart Emergency room a few days ago. She quickly found out that working alongside the infamous Dr. Brackett gave her the feeling that she had ten thumbs...and maybe she would have been better off staying as a cashier at the local market.  She moved over to get another IV bag, and proceeded to knock over the exam tray sending equipment, syringes, and several glass bottles crashing to the floor.

Kel Brackett gave her a hard glare...and looked over at Dixie.  He was tired and in no mood to deal with a rookie nurse. 

"Dix...take over," he said in an exasperated voice. The young nurse quickly left the room to find a maintenance man to help clean up the mess.

"Kel, John Gage was also brought in with a gunshot wound.  This officer is a good friend of his and John was doing a ride along with him tonight."

"WHAT?  Where is he? How bad is it...?"

"Joe is with him and he is conscious. He took a bullet in the upper right quadrant. He also has some lacerations on his arms, looks like glass fragments.  I was just about to call Roy."

Kel Brackett jerked his head in Margie's direction as she came back through the door with a janitor behind her.

"Ok, she can make a simple phone call...I need you here to monitor him while I check on our young friend."

Dixie turned to look at her new nurse.  The doctor's somewhat insensitive attitude towards newcomers was not uncommon.  He ran a tight ship and his expectations were high; people's lives depended on them doing their job...and doing it right.  Kel Brackett was of the mindset that if someone couldn't hack it, the exit door could hit 'em where the good Lord split 'em. 

Dixie understood his firm stance on this...to a point.  In this business you had to have the right stuff and couldn't fall apart during a crisis, but just the same, she knew this was a tough job...and it took some time to get adjusted.

"Margie," she stated, "please go to the roll-a-dex at the nurses' station and look up the name Roy DeSoto.  Give him a call and let him know that John Gage is here and we need him to come down."

"Yes Miss McCall," the young girl said. Tears starting to build in her eyes as she turned and pulled open the door...not able to get away fast enough.

"Kel"

"Please Dix...not tonight.  I'm not in the mood for a lecture on my abrasive attitude."

She let it go...for now.

The doctor gave the officer a final once over and turned his wrist to look at his watch. "Where are those x-rays?' he asked impatiently. "Dix can you give them a call and find out what the holdup is? I am going to go check on Johnny...what room is he in?"

"Sure thing Kel, and he is in four. While you are in there could you give him an update on his friend for me? He is really worried."

"Yea...I think his wife might be here as well.  There isn't much of a prognosis I can give either one of them until I get a look at the damn films."

He pulled the door open and stormed out.  Dixie sighed and walked over to the phone taking the receiver off the hook and punching in the extension numbers for the x-ray room.

                                                                                                  *****

The phone next to Roy DeSoto's bed rang loudly at precisely 12:12am. The blonde haired paramedics eyes snapped open on the first ring...and he was as wide awake as if the Klaxon alarm had just gone off at the station.

"I knew it...," he thought as he bolted upright in bed. "Damn it! I KNEW IT," he said out loud.

His wife Joanne moaned softly next to him. She blinked her eyes trying to shake off the sleep and get her bearings.

"Honey...what is it?  What's wrong...what did you "know"?"

"Johnny..." he said as he reached over and snatched the receiver into his hand.

"Johnny?  What about him?"

"Hello?" he answered, more loudly then he intended.

"Hello," the young voice greeted, "I apologize for the late hour...but I am looking for a Roy DeSoto?"

Roy was confused for a minute.  He did not recognize the voice at the other end of the phone, and by now, he knew everyone who worked in the ER at Rampart.

"This is Roy DeSoto...who is this?"

"Mr. DeSoto, my name is Margie and I am a nurse at Rampart General Hospital.  There was an incident tonight, two people were killed in a police chase, and a couple of others were shot.  I was told that it was imperative to contact you and have you come to the hospital regarding a John Gage."

Roy sat perfectly still. He couldn't formulate the question in his mind into verbal words.

"Honey, please...what is going on?" Joanne replied anxiously.

"Mr. DeSoto? Are you still there?"

The words were stuck in his throat. “Yes...yes, I am here.  W-who was...killed?"

"A police officer...and another young man who I believe was with him."

Roy went numb...he couldn't believe it.  He had been worried about something happening, but he didn't expect...this.

"Hello??"

"I-I will be...right there," he replied with a catch in his voice as he hung up the phone.

"Roy?"

The blonde haired paramedic turned to his wife. "Remember...I told you that Johnny was doing a ride-along with his friend Drew tonight."

"Yes...yes..." she said impatiently, "what happened? Were they in an accident?"

Since Roy's mind seemingly did not, at the present moment, want to function on its own, he fell back on the nurses words, "there was an incident tonight...two people were killed in a police chase...and a couple of others were shot.  The police officer...and another young man who was with him were the ones...killed. They need me to come down to the hospital."

Roy looked at his wife's face as the words he had just spoken slowly sunk in.  Tears fell freely from her eyes and rolled in a steady stream down her cheeks.

"I can't believe it," she cried as he reached out and wrapped his arms around her,  gently rocking back and forth before he buried his face in her soft hair.

"I have to go," he whispered a few moments later.

"Do you want me to go with you?" she choked out, already starting to climb from the bed. "I can call my s-sister...or one of the neighbors."

"No honey.  It's late...Stay here with the kids. I will call you from the hospital."

He started to pull on his clothes and glanced over at the phone.  He debated about calling the Captain and decided to wait.  It was an easy decision...because he couldn't bring himself to verbally say it out loud.

That his partner and best friend...was dead.

Continued in Part 3

Posted to Site 09/14/13

Links to Part 1. 2. 3.