Chapter Text
"High On Morgan Towers"
By Ross
Chapter One
The Captain and crew of Los Angeles County Fire Station 51 were seated in their rec' room, attempting to relax between back-to-back calls.
The freshly poured coffee in their cups had cooled to just about drinkable—when the alarm sounded.
All six men tensed up and listened.
"Squad 51..." the dispatcher began.
Squad 51's crew of two got stiffly to their feet and started heading for the garage.
Captain Hank Stanley also stood and stepped over to the call desk.
The remaining members of the Engine crew exhaled sighs of relief and returned to their relaxing.
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"Man down...unknown cause...218 West Nadine Street...Cross-streets Fourth and Grand...two-eighteen West Nadine...ambulance responding...Time Out...10:42"
"Squad 51, KMG-365..." Stanley acknowledged and passed a copy of the call on to his paramedics.
Roy DeSoto snatched the slip of paper from his Captain and passed it along to his partner, John Gage.
The rescue truck exited the Station and then disappeared off down the street, lights flashing and siren blaring.
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Seven minutes later, the Squad braked to a halt in front of a small, one-story, bluish gray house.
Its driver cut the lights and siren.
The paramedic team piled out and began pulling equipment cases from their vehicle's side compartments.
A teenaged girl emerged from 218 West Nadine, crying hysterically. "Hurry!" she shouted between sobs. "Please, hurry! It's Donny! My boyfriend! He won't wake up!"
The firemen obligingly followed the frantic female into the home, but then abruptly halted—as an unbelievably obnoxious odor assailed their nostrils and immediately overwhelmed them. The two rescuers glanced at each other and exchanged grimaces.
"What is that awful sme-ell?" Gage wondered and tried burying his nose into the short sleeve of his uniform shirt. "Does your boyfriend keep a pet skunk?"
"He burned some incense," the little lady quickly explained and led them into the living room.
John caught sight of a motionless young man, sprawled across a sofa and calmly concluded, "Maybe he just inhaled a little too much incense?"
"No!" their guide contradicted. "He burns the stuff all the time! It's never affected him before!"
Seeing as how they couldn't perform their duties while keeping their noses covered, DeSoto turned to his now coughing colleague and quickly suggested, "Better open some windows!"
His partner nodded his approval of the plan, and immediately set about getting some fresh air into the premises.
Roy set his equipment down beside John's cases and then dropped to his knees to examine their unconscious victim. "I'm Roy. My partner's John. What's your name?" he calmly inquired of the still crying girl, standing at his side.
"Michelle," she sniffled.
"What happened here, Michelle?" the paramedic pondered, as he finished his initial patient survey and began taking vital signs.
"I don't know!" she cried, her voice rising to new levels of hysteria. "I just came over and found him here like this!"
"Alright, Michelle, just take it easy," Roy urged, not desiring to have to treat a second victim. "We're going to do everything we possibly can for him. Does Donny have any serious medical problems or have to take any medication of any kind?"
The girl's tear-filled eyes suddenly blazed wide with anger. "What do you mean 'of any kind'?" she demanded. "You think he's tripping out?"
John finished his assigned task and knelt between his partner and their victim's highly agitated girlfriend. "We ask everyone these questions, Michelle. We're not trying to accuse anyone of anything. We're just trying to help, but we can't help him if we can't find out what's wrong with him." He finished setting up their Bio-phone and took the slip of paper his partner passed on to him. "Rampart Base, this is Squad 51...How do you read?"
"Donny isn't on any medication...that I know of," Michelle meekly replied.
Roy got to his feet. "Johnny, I didn't find a medical alert I.D., but I think I'll check out the medicine cabinet, anyway."
His partner nodded.
DeSoto disappeared off down a hall.
"Unit calling in, please repeat..." Doctor Kelly Brackett finally acknowledged.
"Rampart, Squad 51. We have a male victim...approximately 18 years of age. The patient is comatose, Rampart...no known cause. He is completely unresponsive to pain stimuli. Vitals are: BP 90/40, pulse 80, respirations 20 and shallow, lungs are clear, pupils are equal but dilated and un-reactive," Gage paused as his partner stepped back into the room.
DeSoto shook his head and then started getting the oxygen and an IV ready.
"We can't find any evidence of a medication O.D., Rampart," the fireman on the phone finished, sounding somewhat frustrated.
Brackett's voice also reflected some frustration as he passed along his orders for treatment to the two medical men in the field.
"Roger that, Rampart," Gage acknowledged.
As his partner read back the doctor's instructions, DeSoto set about carrying them out.
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In no time, they had their victim stabilized and ready to transport.
The ambulance arrived.
The attendants lifted Donny onto a stretcher and began rolling him out of the room.
"I'm gonna look around," John announced. "Maybe I can find some kind a' clue...or somethin'."
Roy nodded, grabbed some essential gear and accompanied their victim out to the ambulance.
"Where are they taking him?" Michelle wondered, as her boyfriend was wheeled away from her.
"Rampart General. You kin ride in with me, if yah like," the remaining paramedic proposed.
"Thanks. That would be nice."
"Yah know, Michelle...there's a big difference between narc'ing on a friend—and tellin' a doctor somethin' that could possibly save a friend's life," John solemnly reminded their coma victim's still sniffling, still silent 'confidante'.
The girl avoided Gage's gaze...and chose to remain silent.
The fireman finished his thorough search of the living room and exhaled a silent sigh of frustration.
Michelle watched nervously, as the paramedic crossed back over to the incense container that lay open on the coffee table.
The small, brightly-colored cardboard box was emblazoned with Chinese symbols-and filled with the offensive odor producers.
John held one of the small, black, cone-shaped cubes up to his nose and made another face. "Man!" he exclaimed. "I can't imagine anyone actually wanting to smell this stuff!" He snatched a 'barf sack' from one of the open cases at his feet, and began bagging the stinky stuff up for a quick trip in—to the lab at Rampart.
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DeSoto was standing outside Treatment Room Two, talking with RN Dixie McCall.
"Any change?" Gage asked, as he and Donny's girlfriend approached the pair.
Roy frowned and shook his head. "What about you? Did you find anything?"
John frowned and shook his head.
"What's in the bag?" Dixie wondered.
Gage opened the paper sack in his hands, pulled out the ornately decorated little box and handed the nurse a couple a' pieces of the container's smelly contents.
Miss McCall stared down at the cone-shaped objects in her hand in complete confusion. "What's this?"
"Incense," John replied.
The nurse never even realized incense came in a cone shape. She had only ever seen the stuff attached to long, tapered sticks. "Sandalwood?" the woman wondered and took a cautious sniff.
"Would you believe polecat?" Roy came back.
"Ugh!" the sniffer exclaimed and her pretty face scrunched up. "Yes! I would! Where did you get this stuff?"
John held the box up and Dixie rapidly replaced the foul-smelling objects. "That coma victim was burning this stuff, shortly before whatever happened to him happened to hi—" he stopped speaking, as the two-way radio that was strapped to his left wrist began 'bleeping'.
"Squad 51...What is your status?"
"Kel wants to hear more about what happened to him," the nurse informed the firemen, as they locked their questioning gazes upon her.
"Dix', this is the victim's girlfriend, Michelle..." John quickly introduced. "Michelle knows waaaay more than we do!" he hinted.
The nurse and the paramedics exchanged knowing glances. "Alright. You guys can go."
Gage handed her the sack in his right hand. Then, he raised the radio in his left hand, and thumbed its call button. "LA, Squad 51 is available at the hospital on follow up," he promptly informed the dispatcher.
"10-4, 51...Standby for a response..."
The paramedic team turned away from Treatment Two and began heading for their rescue truck.
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Several seconds passed before their HT began 'bleeping again'.
"Squad 51, assist Squad 16 and Engine 51 with man trapped on tower...459 East Morgan Towers Road...four-five-nine...East Morgan Towers Road...Ambulance and Engine responding...Time out: 11:37..."
The firemen reached the parking lot, piled into their vehicle, tossed their helmets on and strapped them in place.
John used the vehicle's dash-mounted radio to acknowledge the dispatcher. "Squad 51,10-4!" He replaced the radio mic', recorded the call and then turned to his partner. "The Morgan Towers are less than three miles from here."
"Yeah...I know," his fellow paramedic replied, as he pulled out of the hospital's parking lot and flicked on their rescue truck's lights and siren. "That's probably why we got the call to assist." Roy glanced in his rear-view mirror.
There was an ambulance right on their tail.
Both rescue vehicles would be arriving at the scene—simultaneously.
The paramedic could count on one hand the number of times that had happened in the past six years.
TBC