Because of its size, Los Angles County had divided up its fire districts, basing each fire station out of a regional hospital. The Board of Supervisors had determined that this was the most efficient course, in light of the fact that in a few short years, the population of the County had swelled into the millions. This remained in effect for the new paramedic program that promised to save thousands of lives by getting medical attention to injured victim sat the scene. Once the paramedic program was added to the County's fire service, each of the County's rescue squads called their hospital for orders and supplied the fluids and bandages for each victim. Paramedics provided more than first aid, which was standard part of training in the fire service. Paramedics became the eyes of the doctors at the County's public hospitals.
Rampart General Hospital, named after the district it occupied was the assigned hospital for Squads 51, 45, 99, 10, and 49. The facility took up several blocks, its high, t-shaped structure standing sentinel over the district. Rampart was also one of the finest teaching hospitals, training Residents and Interns to become doctors. Its year old nursing program had grown to match the established residency and internship programs.
Because of the close working relationship of paramedics and doctors, friendships had developed where once there had been snubbing. Doctor Brackett had been one of the doctors who at first, didn't believe in the paramedic program. Now, he was one of their staunchest supporters.
Roy rode in the back of the ambulance with his two patients while Chet drove the squad behind them. The sight of the tall building always made him catch his breath. "Hang in there, buddy," he encouraged, not realizing he'd said it out loud.
Daniel had watched in silence, his father's words of hatred echoing in his mind. "Why do you care so much if he lives or dies?"
Roy was dumb founded by the question. He looked down at the stretcher, searching for the reason he cared if Johnny lived. He'd just been asked to explain something that just was. "Because he's my friend, my partner. Why do you and your father want him dead so badly?" He turned the tables, asking the questions instead of providing answers. When the teenager didn't answer, Roy continued, "Is it because he's an Indian? What has that got to do with it? And if that's the reason, why did your father shoot at all of us? Why did he kill that cop? He was white."
Confused by the question, Daniel thought of his own reasons for helping his father in the ploy to get the firemen and police officer out to the homestead. His father had seemed so right when he ranted about the death of his wife and youngest son. So convinced that the cause of their deaths was a non-white. "That cop could have saved my mom, but he didn't," Daniel's voice held no conviction. He was only repeating the words he'd heard from his father over and over again. "And then the lot of you couldn't put out a simple house fire. You killed her and my brother. You let them die which is what we wanted you to do with him," he pointed at Johnny and realized the injured fireman was staring at him, listening to every word.
Pain filled Johnny's eyes as his one good hand reached for the boy, struggling with the lightening pain that consumed him. "W-We tr-tried to s-save her," he whispered. The pain slowly faded, leaving him sweating and exhausted.
Roy placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Rest now, Junior. We're almost to the hospital."
Speed bumps signaled their entrance into the hospital compound. The ambulance turned off its siren and slowed its pace through the area. Passing under the hospital's complex of student classrooms and doctors' offices. The ambulance backed up to the emergency entrance.
Daniel was helped out by one of the ambulance attendants. As he exited the vehicle, he was approached by a police officer and a woman dressed in a well tailored suit.
"Daniel Struthers?" the officer asked, stopping the forward motion of both patient and attendant. "I am hereby ordered to place you under arrest for the attempted murder of six people and aiding in the murder of Officer Richard Peterson. This is Lucille Dunlow, she's from Social Services." He then nodded to the attendant, "You can take him on in."
Roy didn't watch as the child was led away, nor did he see the slump of the young man's shoulders as his offenses were recited to him. Roy's only concern was for the man on the stretcher.
The other ambulance attendant unlocked the gurney's wheels and pulled it out of the vehicle. Roy held the head of it up as a switch was pulled to release the wheels, allowing them to roll the cot into the hospital.
Doctor Kelly Brackett met them and instructed them to take Johnny to treatment room two. Chet came in through the double doors as they pushed the stretcher into the room.
"How is he?" Chet asked, following Roy and the gurney into the small room. He watched in awe as doctors and nurses surrounded the patient, each efficiently doing their jobs without direction from Brackett.
Roy stood in the corner, his mind filled with thoughts of loosing his partner and friend. Death had always been something that Roy fought against. He was only a teenager when his parents died. Their deaths forced him to leave his quiet home and live with an aunt and uncle who had four kids of their own. The move to their home had been traumatic. He'd had to give up his own room to share a room with a cousin who snored. The only positive aspect of the whole situation was that he'd been able to stay at the same school. He and Joanne had been sweethearts for four years by then. Being separated from her would have taken away the only person in his life who mattered as much as his parents. He wouldn't have survived without her.
"Joanne. I need to call Joanne," Roy mumbled. He needed the strength that only she could give him to get through this crisis. She'd always helped him through Johnny's other injuries and his own.
"Dix, notify surgery we need OR stat. He's bleeding into the abdomen," Brackett ordered, pulling Roy out of his thoughts.
"He's gonna to be all right, isn't he, Doc?" Chet asked, looking around the doctor to the activity going on around Johnny and the bruising along Johnny's abdomen. Chet watched as another needle was inserted into the bend of his friend's arm. For the first time he noticed that Johnny hadn't made a sound, or responded to anything that was done to him since they entered the treatment room.
Brackett motioned to the door then led the two firemen into the hallway where they were met by a portable x-ray machine being rolled into the treatment room they had just left. "Right now, he's got internal bleeding. As soon as I get the films, I'll know more about his leg and any possible head injury. Doctor Olsen's been called in to repair Johnny's leg, he's one of the best orthopedic surgeons." Seeing that his words were getting a less than promising reception, Brackett sent Roy and Chet to wait in the doctor's lounge while he returned to the treatment room.
In treatment room five, Doctor Early, a white-haired gentleman with a soft spoken manner helped take Daniel's shirt off so the wound could be seen better. Doctor Mike Morton assisted with Daniel's treatment, wanting to see if he could help the troubled teen.
The bleeding had stopped and listening to his lungs, Doctor Early declared that the lung sounds were clear but ordered an x-ray to be sure.
"I understand you've gotten yourself into quite a bit of a fix, Daniel." Early turned and nodded to the officer and the woman beside him. "He'll need surgery to repair the damage in the muscles and tissues. I'll need him to stay here for a few days after that." Turning back to the boy, Early smiled. "I don't know everything, only what I've heard in bits and pieces about what happened and how a friend of mine was almost killed."
Daniel looked away from those eyes that promised to bore into his soul. His father had never lied to him before. Yet, he was surrounded by people who told him that his father was wrong in seeking vengeance. People who cared for the Indian that had sucked the life's breath from Emie Struthers with his pagan spirits.
"What's he ever done?" Daniel spit out, loosing his anger at being lied to by these strangers. And his father. Had everything he'd been told since the day he was born been a lie? Was everything he believed in a lie?
"I'll tell you what he's done. He's saved more people than you will ever know. He's protected others, placing his life on the line for them. Yes, your mother died, but it wasn't because of anything he did or didn't do," Mike let his voice rise, hoping the words would eventually sink into the young man's head. Turning away, he started toward the door. "There's nothing else I can do for him, Joe." Without waiting for a reply, he left the room, his anger boiling.
Daniel watched the doctor leave as the nurse pulled the side rails up on the bed.
Dr. Early watched the young man whose eyes held fear of what had happened and what was to come.
Right now, Daniel needed a friend and there was no one to call on. Not even Marco who had befriended him once, would want to talk to him now. Not after what Daniel had helped his father do. "So, you pick and choose who to be prejudiced against," Daniel muttered to himself, closing his eyes to the officers in the room with him.
Four hours later, Doctor Brackett entered the Doctor's Lounge, his green scrubs soaked with sweat, a blood splattered cap in his hands. As he entered, he recognized the firemen there and the woman who sat beside Roy DeSoto. At one time or another, Brackett had treated each of these people and had come to know them as friends.
Roy stood, fearing the worst when he was unable to read the doctor's eyes. "How-How is he?"
Brackett went to the sink first and pulled a cup from the shelf above the coffeepot next to the sink. He poured a cup, then turned and smiled. "Right now, he's doing fine. We got the bleeding stopped. Johnny has a skull fracture and several broken ribs. But I think the odds are in favor of him making a complete recovery. Doctor Olsen is still with him, setting the leg. We'll know more about that later. It'll be a while before he can have visitors so why don't you all go home and get some rest?"
Accepting the doctor's reasoning, Hank stood and motioned for his crew to leave. "Roy, why don't you go on home? I'll put the squad out of service until another crew can come in."
Joanne watched her husband nod in agreement with Captian Stanley. However, she knew that Roy would never leave until he had at least talked to Johnny. The couple watched the four firemen walk out the door, shoulders slumped and heads down, still worried for their fallen comrade.
"I take it you aren't going to take my advice and get some rest," Brackett said, swirling the coffee around in his cup, watching Roy nod. "Well, it might be another hour or so. I'll have a nurse come and get you when he's out of recovery, then you are to go home. Understood?"
Roy grinned half-heartedly at the command. "Sure, Doc."
Marco and Chet lagged behind Hank Stanley and Mike Stoker. Hank and Mike moved over to make way for a stretcher. Marco and Chet stopped and looked at the patient being wheeled to the elevator.
"Daniel?" Marco asked, seeing the young boy's face white with fear. Reaching out a hand, he stopped the gurney. "Where are they taking you?"
"Like you really care." Daniel regretted the sarcasm in his voice. He didn't want to push anyone away, but he was doing a good job of doing just that.
Marco placed his hand over Daniel's. "I do care, very much. Tell me where they're taking you."
Daniel instantly believed Marco. He let his defenses down and a tear slowly slipped down the side of his face. "To surgery, then to jail where I belong. I'm sorry," Daniel said as the gurney started on its way once again as the elevator doors slid open.