Author's notes: This story may contain situations sensitive readers may not enjoy. I have labeled some parts that may be disturbing and have written them in such a way that they can be skipped. Readers who choose to do so can still understand what is going on.

XXXX

"Man, get a load of this," Chet said, thrusting a newspaper under Roy and John's noses as they tried desperately to finish lunch before they got toned out.

"Why don't you just give us the gist of it, Chet?" asked Roy as John simply ignored his mustached shift mate, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich by wrapping his arms right around Chet's arms and the newspaper.

Chet withdrew his arms and the paper, afraid of getting bit. "Alright, alright but there's pictures too. I can't describe them. They say a thousand words and you all know I'm not much for talking."

"Just get to the point, Chet," growled John over a large swig of milk.

"Carson, April first," Chet began dramatically. "Police say a woman walking her dog discovered a man's body near the brush area of South Freen Road. Large scars gouged into the man's back and the state of his clothing indicated some type of large animal attack but later reports indicate foul play. Preliminary autopsy reports have been released to inform the public of a possible danger. Last month in approximately the same location, another male victim was found with similar wounds. Both bodies have had organs removed. Police are urging the public not to panic but at the same time are asking that caution be used when traveling alone or at night. So far there are no known motives or connections between the victims.

Residents along South Freen haven't reported any unusual activities but theories as to motive have run the gamut from cult activity to psychotic mass murder."

Roy pushed his plate away while John continued chewing happily.

"Does anything put you off your food?" Roy asked.

"Nope. I need fuel. At any moment we could get call …" John smiled through a huge bite and pushed away from the table as the klaxons sounded.

"It's April first, Chester B. I bet that's a gag article. Don't get your panties in a bunch," Roy chided, hopping in behind the wheel of the squad.

Chet would tell them later when they got back that he wasn't reading a tabloid but a real newspaper. The article was true.

XXXX

John squinted into the dying sun, which cast pinkish shadows across the red mud. A small naked figure at the bottom of the ravine sent chills up his spine. It wasn't only the stillness or the color of the body that confirmed to him that the person was dead, it was his very instinct, as if he could smell death.

The ropes were secured and Roy and John stepped over the ledge. Protocol dictated that they check for vitals. The body was fresh, no decomposition, but John was loath to touch it. He was the closest. He swung over, took a deep breath and held it, reaching out for the carotid artery. His suspicions were confirmed. There was no pulse and it had been at least an hour since the man had taken his last breath.

With heavy hearts Roy called up for a stokes taking another glance at the victim whose head was turned away from them.

"Don't disturb the area, guys. We just got a call from dispatch telling us to wait for a forensics team. Why don't you come back up for awhile?" Cap called down.

"Gladly," John shuddered. Roy slapped him on the back in a show of support and together they made their way up.

The forensics people were glad for the help from the fire department to get down to the body. They concluded their study in less than an hour and by the time they wrapped the poor victim for his trip up the ravine he lay in a more dignified position under a yellow tarp on his back. The winch was secured and John and Roy assisted in their ascent.

As the stokes with its grim load crested the top of the ravine a gust of wind lifted the yellow tarp.

Roy grabbed John's shoulders and spun him around so he wouldn't see. The victim was Bruce, their ride-along trainee from over a year ago. Roy knew John kept in touch with the young paramedic who was planning on getting married and moving out of L.A. due to his asthma.

"What are you doing, Pally? You nearly dislocated my shoulder."

"Uh, sorry, Junior," Roy said distractedly his hands firm on John's shoulders until the yellow tarp was back in place

"What's goin' on, Roy?"

Roy's brain raced fast. He didn't want to over react. Maybe it was only a person who looked like Bruce. There was no sense upsetting John if he was wrong.

"Do me a favor, okay, Johnny? Just stow the gear and give me a minute?"

John looked deeply into his friend's eyes figuring maybe Roy needed a minute to pull himself together after such a gruesome find. He had to trust his friend to tell him what was going on later.

Roy walked over the forensics unit. "Was there any ID near the victim?" he asked, trying to sound like he only had professional interest.

"No, we're going to have to wait for missing persons reports. The worst thing is, this is fairly fresh so there's no telling how long it's going to be before we find out who he is. It looks like he's a victim of our mass murderer though. His chest was cut open right through the ribs but this time there are no organs missing," the man who identified himself as Detective Rockstiller said.

"I think I might know him," Roy said nervously glancing about for signs of his partner.

Immediately becoming suspicious of the circumstances Rockstiller narrowed his eyes.

"And how is that?"

"I think my partner over there and I trained this man last year. I think he's a fireman/paramedic with the L.A. County Fire Department, that's how," Roy answered evenly.

Rockstiller nodded his head and a female coroner's attendant lifted the yellow tarp. Roy steeled himself and took another, longer look at the face he'd glimpsed earlier. There was no mistaking it. The man under the tarp was Bruce. Roy sat heavily on the bumper of the detective's personal car all color draining from his face. John picked that moment to come over.

"What's up, Roy? You feeling okay?" John moved closer to Roy as Rockstiller opened his mouth to speak.

"Let me please," Roy asked.

Rockstiller nodded solemnly.

"Johnny, listen. The man under the tarp … It's Bruce."

"What? No …"

Wanting a more positive ID than the word of a sick looking paramedic, Rockstiller rolled the tarp back as if he did this every day … and in fairness he did so he'd lost his sense of tact not having had to address a victim's family for a long time. That was the job of councillors and police. He worked for the victim. He'd forgotten the words 'loved ones' a long time ago.

"Look, I told you not to …" Roy trailed off in anger at Rockstiller as he watched his partner's eyes open wide, his legs carrying him automatically toward Bruce.

John's heart quickened. He brushed his hand over Bruce's face. It had been hard enough to feel for a carotid pulse when the man was a stranger on a cliff. Now the cold skin beneath his gentle caress warred with his memories of Bruce's smile and give-'em-hell attitude while on the job despite his asthma. John stared at the face. There was a pinched look of pain remaining. John drew his hand back and lost his battle to keep the bile down that lurched up his throat. He ran for the nearest ditch.

Roy didn't feel any better but he waved Cap away when he started toward John. Roy took a minute to glare at Rockstiller until Bruce was covered back up.

John knelt by the ditch still heaving in deep breaths. His hand swabbed his mouth and he looked up.

"Sorry. Just …"

Roy rubbed small circles on John's back. The two of them drew back from the ditch and sat heavily on the ground. Unable to stay back any longer, Cap made his way to them.

"John, you okay?"

"Y-yeah, Cap. Just give me a minute?"

"Cap, the victim. It's Bruce, our trainee from last year," Roy told him.

Cap took his helmet off and sat down next to them. He stood the station down until his men could all be told and could get their wits back.

For a half hour the men sat on the ground. The sun sank into the canyon and the forensics team hauled their sombre load away. The birds chirped goodnight and fell silent and the night bugs took up their song. Cap passed a canteen to John and left it to Roy to order him to drink to replace some of his fluids.

The men got stiffly to their feet. The people of L.A. County needed them. They returned to the station.

John took a long, hot shower and no one bothered him. Roy picked up the newspaper Chet showed them that morning, drinking in every detail. It was personal now. One of their own was dead.

XXXX

Roy sat with Joanne beside his shift mates and their relatives. Bruce's funeral was held in a rented auditorium because of the sheer size of the mourner's lines. Companies arrived from out of town and all over L.A. County. An honor guard escorted the casket carried by John Gage and some men from Bruce's home station. Bruce didn't die on the job but it didn't make it any less sad or him less of a hero and he was being honored in the most traditional way.

Roy had never attended a funeral for a murder victim. All funerals were different, some a celebration of a life long and well lived, some for people he and John tried to save but were unable, but this one … there were no words. There was no finality, no answers, just one word, senseless. The autopsy results were in the news, grim and scary and there was an air of fear mixed with loss among the gathered.

John bowed his head when a prayer was said and the casket was placed down. He turned and took his seat beside Joanne and Roy, glad to have them near.

Bruce's fiancé wore a simple black dress as she stepped onto the podium. Her voice was small even in the magnified speakers. She spoke of courage, dreams and love. She thanked people who showed Bruce acceptance and was the pillar of strength everyone there needed. She didn't dwell on the murderer whomever they were; they didn't deserve her words. Instead she closed her heartfelt speech with a prayer for peace and thanks for a love she had but for a short time. She didn't fall apart until she placed a pink rose on Bruce's coffin and her father and brother led her back to her seat and her mother.

That was what finally broke John. His face betrayed no emotion but his shoulders shook with unreleased grief and his jaw clenched as if to hold everything in. He blew out an audible breath of held air when the service concluded.

John made the obligatory rounds at the small luncheon following the funeral. He tipped his coffee cup to make it look like he drank some. He dropped his finger sandwiches into the nearest trashcan when he thought no one was looking. Small talk was made. Yep, Bruce was a good man, yep, what a trooper to have come all that way with asthma, yep, he would have made a fine husband.

When it came to face Tracy, Bruce's fiancé, John tried really hard to form words he thought would be soothing. He didn't know Tracy as well as he'd known Bruce but she was a good woman, willing to give up her job here in L.A. as an architect's assistant and hope to find one in Colorado where the air would be better for Bruce's lungs.

"Are you still going to move?" was all Gage could think to say.

"I don't think so. Bruce and I had an offer in on a house in Colorado but I rescinded it when … Anyway my parents and brothers are out here. I think I'll stay." Tracy's face took on a look of anguish when Bruce's parents approached. "And I've become close with Bruce's parents as well."

Bruce's mom hugged John warmly but her words were like ice water pouring down his throat.

"I understand you were the first to reach our son?"

John had only met Bruce's parents once but it was obvious they cared deeply for their youngest son. John opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just … I wondered … When you found him, he was already …" Bruce's mother stammered.

"He was gone, I'm so sorry …" Gage mumbled as if it was his fault.

Bruce's father put his hand on John's shoulder reassuringly. "Sorry, son, it's just that since this happened, she's been wondering if you, or anyone on the scene thought that our son suffered terribly before …"

It was a normal question to ask. The what-ifs stacked up into one horrible pile of nightmarish scenarios. John gagged at his sudden memory of the grimace on his friend's face.

At that moment Roy appeared beside John. He slung his arm over John's shoulders and politely introduced himself and answered with honesty any questions he could. Unfortunately, Bruce's parents would have to wait for answers, for how long was anyone's guess. The reverend who spoke at the service offered words of consolation from the bible and Roy steered away a very grateful Gage.

XXXX

Roy passed John a beer as Joanne went next door to pick up the kids. The liquid sloshed down fighting for a place amongst the grief and general horror. John fiddled with his tie finally taking it off and let it fall on the patio stones. Roy went in the house and returned a few minutes later with some L.A.F.D sweats.

"Go put these on, Junior. You hate monkey suits. You'll be more comfortable and it's getting a little chilly out."

John smiled up at Roy. He always knew the right things to do and say.

"You doin' okay, Roy?"

"Yeah. I mean I will be. It's just so … I mean what do you even say about a thing like this? I mean with Drew it was …" He stopped talking and looked at his friend.

"It's okay, Roy. Not talking about them won't make it go away. And it's a disservice to them. I know what you mean. You don't have to say it. I don't have to like what happened to Drew but it's a hazard of the job. With Bruce it just, God I don't know."

Roy was glad John hadn't taken the mention of his other friend Drew poorly. Words were just stumbling blocks tonight for both of them so when John came back out onto the patio in more comfortable clothes, Roy just handed him another beer and they drank in silence.

XXXX

Chris Desoto was ten years old and Jennifer Desoto was six going on nineteen sometimes.

"Uncle Johnny, don't have too many beers. It's not good for you," she said with a level of sympathy in her voice that told him Joanne warned the kids not to bother their daddy or Uncle Johnny tonight. She put her little hands on her hips as her head bobbed in time to her counting the empty bottles on the table.

"Looks like mom and I will have to make up your bed too. You can't drive home."

John smiled for the first time in three days. It felt good. Jen sat on his lap for a minute and planted a kiss on his cheek. Chris carried a plate of sandwiches and chips outside and sat it between his dad and Johnny and snagged a handful of chips for himself.

"Mom says you both have to eat. I have to tell her how many sandwiches you have so don't make me go back in with nothing to report. It'll be easier on all of us if you just eat," he said wisely.

That got a chuckle from Roy and John and they took this moment of levity to try to eat a bit. John managed a whole sandwich but steered clear of the chips in fear that the grease would put him over the edge.

XXXX

John awoke to the sound of birds singing in the Desoto's backyard. He lay in the guest room a.k.a. Uncle Johnny's guest room. The window was open and the sun shone in brightly. Roy hobbled down the hall and stopped in the doorway.

"I have no memory of coming in here," yawned John, thanking God when he looked down to find he still had his sweats on, minus his socks and shoes.

"You and Jenny fell asleep outside and when I picked her up you just got up and followed along and automatically turned left at the right spot," smiled Roy.

John sat up groggily, the room spinning just enough to let him know he'd had one too many the night before. He wasn't sick thankfully. He sniffed the air experimentally; Coffee, toast, eggs, bacon. His stomach growled.

Roy poured coffee and both he and John thanked Joanne. She understood them so well. She was strong, enduring long shifts and worry that came with the territory of her husband's job. She'd opened her arms and home to his best friend and in doing so opened her heart to the possibility of more pain. She smiled for them when they couldn't and reminded them that life went on after the bad shifts and chaos.

John played a brief game of catch with Chris and helped Jenny with her grade one spelling words before trimming the hedges while Roy cut the grass and watered the flowers. He clapped Roy on the back and kissed Joanne on the cheek before leaving for home to get some household chores and laundry done for their shift tomorrow.

XXXX

The months flew by into late October. There were five more victims of what was now being dubbed the Invasion of the Body Snatchers by some sick members of the press. A pattern was emerging among the victims, all young, healthy, athletic types, one police officer, one fireman, and a few college athletes. There were three additional missing persons, two female, one male, all three young, pre-Olympic swimmers from the same team. All three failed to report home after a practice.

John stopped reading the newspapers but he couldn't help straining his ears to hear the men in the station talking about the grizzly murders.

The streets were emptier than usual as the squads went out on runs. The absence of children in the park was unnerving, the swings gliding on their own in the wind and the push-carousel grinding around and around by itself was a creepy reminder of the danger that lurked in L.A. It didn't matter that so far, none of the missing or confirmed dead were children, who could take that chance?

People seemed to scurry from shop to shop, buying what they needed and not browsing, hurrying home to lock their doors and windows. Lawns were longer than usual as if homeowners didn't want to be outside any longer than necessary. Mailmen glanced around furtively and dropped letters into boxes to hurry away, glancing around corners before going up or down steps.

Neither sleet nor snow nor dark of night … or murders will stop them from their appointed rounds Gage thought darkly.

XXXX

Roy hated the long shifts. He phoned Joanne each night and instead of normal conversation he went through a checklist to make him feel better that he wasn't home protecting his family.

Each time they got called out to an unknown type rescue the ride was tense. The odds of finding another body weren't as low as he hoped according to HQ. Station 110 was called to a grizzly ravine body recovery as well as station 16 to a dumpster behind a closed down fast food restaurant. Both runs had been murder victims.

The shift came to an end with a little teasing of Chet who had moved back in with his mother claiming that since his father was gone he was the man of the family and his mom needed him.

"You keep telling yourself that Chester B.," teased Marco, who had spent a few nights fixing a leak in his parent's basement and just stayed because it was such a late drive home after all the work.

"I sleep better on shift knowing that Beth has Rocky at home," Stoker said solemnly.

"Yeah, a rotweiller is a definite crime deterrent," Cap said. "But then again I think our Chihuahua's gas would be enough to make anyone turn back around."

Out in the parking lot and out of earshot of the other men, Roy asked John if he wanted to spend a few days with his family. He worried. John was the only member of fifty-one with no family at all.

"Thanks for the offer, Roy but my landlady who lives alone next door to me says she only gets a full night's rest when I'm not on nightshift. She's a senior, I sorta look out for her."

Roy couldn't let it go at that. Something nagged at that back of his brain. John was young, alone and fit the description of favored targets perfectly.

"Junior, call when you get home. If you go anywhere, be aware and just … be careful okay?"

John was about to use his famous sense of humor until he saw how serious Roy was. The truth was, he was a bit apprehensive about living alone with a murderer on the loose but at the same time he wasn't going to stop living and let the person win.

XXXX

At roll call a few days later it seemed like every man took a mental count of each other. Tensions were at an all time high. Before Cap gave out assignments he read a memo from HQ, skipping to the meat of it.

"Station 110 brought in what the police believe is the first survivor of these attacks. He was missing a kidney and is in the ICU. So far he hasn't been questioned. Also, word came down about Bruce. Autopsy results from all the deceased victims show that Bruce was the only one with no missing body parts."

John coughed, the splash of bile burning his throat as he remembered the body laying down the cliff with two perfect incisions in his torso. He bent double, his shift mates leading him to a seat.

"That's what this is all about … body parts. Bruce had asthma. They couldn't use his lungs … so they dumped him whole. It's body part trafficking," Gage gasped.

Cap got on the phone with the chief coroner's office. Of course they'd already figured out that the body parts were missing but were still waffling over whether it was occult activity like what happened in the sixties in the valley or something else. Gage's observations about Bruce's scarred lungs clarified what they were dealing with. This would help the investigation immensely.

XXXX

Halloween was a week away and the city was planning a take back the night rally with a parade and candies for the kids. Radio announcers put out an appeal on behalf of the L.A.P.D. for companies with vehicles to donate their time to drive around and patrol in a civilian capacity. Fire and emergency personnel were ordered to take overtime shifts for the duration of the event. The mayor was adamant that nothing would go wrong. Tourism was down and the crime was affecting the bottom line.

"The parade would be the perfect time for you guys to show off the old engine," Cap told Roy and John. Roy jumped at the chance. Joanne was bringing the kids to the parade anyway. This way, she and the kids could ride on the engine. He could keep an eye on them.

"And we get paid at the same time," John said enthusiastically. Every bit of his OT pay went into the bank for his house fund. He aimed to have a house on a small parcel of land by the time he was twenty-five and he had only year left to fulfill that.

Cap smiled as the young paramedic hopped down from where he was hanging hose and headed for the kitchen clearly doing mental math, carrying a number with his fingers in the air like he did when he helped Chris with his homework.

XXXX

Preparations and planning made the week go by quick. No additional victims were found and no missing persons reports were made. Optimism was still a hefty premium though. No one was in custody; there were no leads, only motive thanks to Johnny.

Halloween dawned crisp and bright, no rain in sight. Perfect for sitting atop an open engine. Roy and John polished the engine between runs and Joanne's car pulled into the lot of Station fifty-one at ten o'clock.

The guys marvelled at Chris and Jen's Halloween costumes. John even screamed loudly, pretending to be afraid of ghost-Jennifer. Chris was a fireman and Chet told him he filled out his little uniform better than Johnny did his.

Chris and Jen took their umpteenth tour of Big Red and never grew tired of it, then they rode piggyback on Chet and Marco until it was time to ride out. All of Station fifty-one was participating in the parade unless they were called out. Brice and Bellingham stepped in as shift coverage while John and Roy manned their old engine down to city hall.

The parade wound its way through the commercial district with much waving and fanfare. Mike Stoker was pleased when Big Red got a cheer. He'd stayed up most of the night polishing his prize engine and ended up having to do it all over again after an early morning trash fire. He smiled as all the men sat up just a little straighter as they passed by and watched the old engine ahead of him as John put his old fashioned fire helmet on Jenny's head. She pushed it up from her ghost-sheet covered eyes and wore it proudly while Roy gave his hat to Chris, who took off his paper costume one. Joanne threw candy to the children in the crowd, as did Chet and Marco from Big Red, along with stickers of Smokey the Bear.

"New stickers this year, Junior," Roy said, passing one to John to put in his pocket. John looked a bit sheepish but pocketed the picture anyway. Roy smiled and ruffled his hair while John smacked his hand away and grinned back.

"Have a bubblegum too. I know you want one."

John mock glared at Roy again but popped one in his mouth. He offered one to Joanne and looked smugly at Roy when she not only accepted but blew a gigantic bubble as well. The old engine was purring like a … well not a kitten but some big, growling cat type creature. All was well. Roy stopped the engine for a minute and scooted down from the seat.

"Your turn," he simply said.

John accepted the wheel. It wasn't often that he drove. He could have any time he wanted but there was a comfortable settlement between the two of them. John was the better navigator, Roy the better driver. They never talked about it. It was just one of those silent things they had, like the way they packed their drug box and instinctively knew what the other needed, like a well oiled machine.

For some reason John hadn't felt the wind blow through his hair in the passenger side. Roy smiled as a look of pure enjoyment filled his partner's features. It was half his engine. They worked long and hard on it and deserved for it to see the light of day in its glory. The rumble from the wheel rattled up John's arms. He felt the history, the engine, its very heart beating telling its tales of the triumphs, the loss, the exhaustion and exhilaration as it led the new generation in its wake.

The parade approached the fairgrounds, alive with rides and shows. In the centre of it all stood the two hundred year old wooden church, closed for over fifty years and now, its old whitewashed walls painted a garish purple and red. What a conversion, from a place of worship to a funhouse.

The open-air cab allowed sound to trickle to them in ever increasing volume; screams from the rides, music from the shows and excited children. The scent of hotdogs and cotton candy wafted to them, a temporary reprieve from the constant vigilance that gripped the city.

The men were lucky enough not to be called out. They stayed within close range of their engine and enjoyed the food and sights. It wasn't unusual for Big Red to have to tow the old engine back to the station but tonight she would make it on her own thank you very much.

The old engine did even better than making it back to the station. She stopped at the Desoto's house and let the children and Joanne out to the delight of any neighborhood children who weren't as yet at the fairgrounds. Joanne's car could be picked up another day. Joanne kissed Roy and quickly went into the house to retrieve his uniform he'd forgotten in his excitement over the parade. He and John would be on shift with the rest of the A shift this afternoon and night.

XXXX

John and Roy covered their beloved old girl up with a tarp, cinching the corners around it like a sweater on a cold day. John gave it a light tap with his hand as they made their way inside for some much needed coffee. Tonight would be a tough shift. The fairgrounds and amusements would be open until midnight and no doubt they would have their fair share of calls for sick amusement park riders and mostly minor injuries. After that the temporary boundary changes would cease and they'd be called for their own district's nightly emergencies.

As the day went on they attended to a variety of minor calls, a possible heart attack that turned out to be too much sausage on a bun with sour kraut and a possible concussion that turned out to be tilt-a-whirl-hurl. Each time John and Roy assured the people that they were glad they'd erred on the side of caution in calling them.

John looked longingly at the roller coaster as it grumbled by on its wooden tracks. It was no secret to Roy that his young partner loved the rides.

"I think the rides are stickin' around through the weekend. We're off Sunday so I was thinking of taking Jen and Chris but Jo and I don't do the rides and Jo's a little nervous of putting them on alone."

"I'd go on with 'em," John said casually but Roy didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, are you sure you wouldn't rather bring a date here?"

"Well, I mean, it would be a sacrifice and all but you know, that's what uncles are for, right?"

Roy tried not to laugh. "Right, and thanks John. I know the kids'll be really excited."

John took a little skip toward the squad. Roy knew John didn't have an easy childhood to say the least and he was glad when the young man let himself have some fun. Their job was a very responsible one and letting loose once in awhile was a must for sanity. Besides, with Uncle Johnny there he and Jo could maybe take a run through the tunnel of love.

Cap asked Mike to make his famous spaghetti and meatballs and Chet to make a salad and rolls. He wanted the men to eat healthy since he'd watched them scarf down foot long hot dogs and elephant ears for lunch. A station did not run on junk food alone.

John and Roy got dish duty while the engine was called out. The sun set as they were finished.

A huge apple juice harvest moon hung low on the horizon as the engine returned sweeping a fall breeze through the station before the bay doors closed after it. Before the men could even step down the klaxons sounded.

Roy and John exchanged nervous glances when the address was given. Fire at the fun-house at the fairgrounds. The tones were still sounding as they swung out of the drive, no need for specific addresses.

The place went up like toothpicks on a campfire. By the time the squad arrived the fire climbed the steeple like King Kong. The heat was so intense the bell clanged mournfully from the heat-fueled gusts of wind and spits of orange ash. No one doubted that the bell tolled for someone. The place was packed all around them.

As more engines arrived, Captain Stanley directed the men to evacuate the park. Police arrived and backed off some rowdies who were complaining that the way to the parking lot was blocked and they didn't' want to walk around from the other end of the fairgrounds. The officer's words were drowned out when the steeple decided to disperse the crowds of gawkers instead by keeling over and landing on the little vestibule to the left. Windows shattered from their frames sending glass shards dancing into the pastel lights of the rides. People screamed and ran in all directions.

Captain Stanley made his mind up. There were some people who were bleeding from the glass and wooden projectiles but they'd run away. It was a hard decision not to send Gage and Desoto and some of the other paramedics after them but if anyone was still alive in the fun-house they would be in much worse shape and immediate danger. The fools who had stood around could run themselves right the E.R. if they needed one.

Gage and Desoto donned the SCBA equipment in anticipation of their captain's orders. Cap looked loathe to send anyone inside the inferno. There were no floor plans and it turned out no one from city hall issued any permits or ordered any inspections despite this being a city-funded event. Bills for purple and red paint and sound equipment passed over the desks of countless politicians who'd signed on the dotted line without a second glance or care.

A young lady in a ticket-taker uniform bleeding from her right shoulder ran up to them.

"Please, my boyfriend is in the basement. He took this stupid job to help pay for college now he's …"

Gage put his hands on her shoulders gently, avoiding the injured area. "Okay, this is very important. Can you tell us exactly where he is and how we can get down there to him?"

The girl described a set of narrow wooden stairs leading down from the vestibule. Gage and Desoto took the time to question her and found out there were stairs leading upstairs as well. Cap wrote down everything she could remember about the layout of the fun-house.

Canned horror from the funhouse blared from speakers into the night air. Microphones placed inside to record teenage screams of fright from the zombies and monsters for their friends outside now emitted real screams of fear and panic.

"How many people do you think are in the funhouse at this time?" Cap asked.

"My boyfriend and about six other guys … you know, to scare folks with chainsaws and mummies and stuff and about six guests, all teenagers.

The church was going up fast. Smoke poured through the broken stained glass and curtains billowed outward as if trying to escape the flames that were slowly eating them. Cap shook his head and looked at the ground and then up at his men.

"Roy, John, I'm sending you in and two other teams of two. Do not split up. Heed your O2 warnings with time to spare."

John and Roy climbed the wooden porch and braved the heat. The vestibule was filled with smoke and crushed by the steeple on one side. The stairway leading up was gone lying on the ground like broken teeth. It took several minutes of clearing them away to find out that the first four steps leading to the basement were gone as well.

"I wish someone would shut that damned noise off," Roy shouted over the spooky ghost noises that were pumped in.

"They can't. It's linked to the microphones and Cap's gonna use a bullhorn to try to communicate with people inside."

Sure enough, Cap's voice overrode the canned vampire-like laugh. "Attention people in the fun-house. If you can hear me, there are speakers on every floor. If you can shout loudly enough, try to describe where you are and someone will come for you."

The eerie sounds were drowned out by at least four people shouting at once frantically for someone to save them.

"One at a time, please. We will get to you. Stay low to the floor, try to put something over your mouth and nose. Do not, I repeat, do not use your lighters to find your way out, you may start more fires. We will come for you."

Miraculously, people took turns shouting out their locations as best they could remember in the dark labyrinths that had been created when the church was converted. Gage snorted in disgust. Wooden pews were used to hold up chipboard walls making up the temporary mazes where they found their first victim crouched down and feeling around for a way out.

Roy kept the mantra of left, left, right, straight and so on in his mind as he retraced his way back to the front doors to give his victim to the people waiting outside. He picked his way over hoses and nodded to two figures he could only assume was Chet and Marco dousing the hallways with water. Gage followed with another victim they found. He wanted to throttle the guy who was holding his Bic in front of him but he knew the kid was scared to death and confused despite the warnings.

With two victories John and Roy went back inside and by now a ladder was in place down to the basement. They turned and picked their way down, the smoke so thick they couldn't see the floor. The ceilings in the basement were so high the ladder didn't reach the floor and it was a leap into the unknown from the last rung. With aching knees the men stood up and tried to look around, flashlights not able to pierce the smoke and extreme darkness of the black painted walls.

With hands out before them turning every six or seven steps they picked their way through several small rooms of florescent spooky stuff, marking chalked white x's on the doors largely in vain to show the rooms were empty.

The sound of someone coughing brought them with quickened steps to a room to the right where they bumped into a coffin that sat on a sawhorse.

"Please, help me get him out!" gasped a brown haired boy of about seventeen dressed in a mummy suit who was so tightly bound he could barely move.

Roy gently moved the boy out of the way to see what was in the coffin. A teenage blond male in a vampire costume laid still, hands over his chest, a wooden stake pressed under his arms to look like it pierced his heart. Roy placed his hand inside the casket.

"Oh no …"

Roy pulled Gage close to him from where he was unwrapping the mummy's hands so he could better make his way out of there with them once his friend was freed.

"John, the beam on the coffin isn't the only thing keeping this kid in. It must have driven the spike through his chest for real as he held it in place with his arm. The blood's real."

John left the mummy and while Roy heaved debris from the closed lower body lid, John secured the wooden stake from moving and doing further damage. The ever-blossoming circle of blood on the white shirt made him think it might be too late but he wouldn't give up. He and Roy staunched the blood flow as best they could. They had no biophone so they went on previous experience with embedded projectiles and didn't try to remove it. The ceiling rumbled above them and a decision had to be made. There wasn't enough time to get them all out.

The words don't split up echoed in Roy's ears.

"John, you have to get this kid out of here now."

John met Roy's blue eyes and knew it was true but he opened his mouth to argue. Roy should go with the mummy. He had a family to go home to. By the time backup arrived, it would likely be too late but the kid in the coffin couldn't be left alone if he was to have any chance at all.

"No … Roy I …"

"I'm senior here. That's an order."

John wouldn't risk killing them all. There was no time for hurt feelings. An order. Go live…

John shared his mask with the mummy as he made his way back to the ladder. Fallen beams made it impossible for the boy, whose legs were still bound from the knees up in mummy dressings to step over. John slung the kid over his shoulders while he dodged the beams, setting him back down when they reached clear floor.

Anxious masked faces gazed down at him as he reached up as far as he could to find the lowest rung. The mummy was either very athletic or pumped on adrenaline because when John hoisted him up and told him to grab hold and climb, climb he did.

Cap's voice on the HT ordered everyone out as Marco's frantic shouts echoed after John who took off back the way he came once he saw strong hands grab the mummy and pull him to safety.

Roy managed to get the door that covered the vampire from the waist down off. The boy's pale skin stood out even in contrast to the white makeup and red lips someone had painted on. John was suddenly at his side, removing the kid's fake vampire teeth and checking for respirations.

"I gave you an order!"

"You told me to get the mummy out. I did that."

Roy removed his mask and placed it over the vampire's face. Covering the youthful visage did nothing to stop his heart from skipping a beat when together, he and John lifted the boy from his coffin and wasn't that ironic. It was very likely that someone else would be putting him back in a real one very soon if the clammy skin and lack of cry of pain from being moved was any indication. The wooden stake stayed surprisingly straight, tied around the boy's body several times by rope and fastened around his shoulders.

There would be no practical fireman's carry; the wooden stake prevented that. Roy knew he wouldn't have been able to carry the boy alone like this. Going around corners was near impossible without bending the boy's body. As stupid as it sounded, it was a reward when their vampire cried out in agony as they maneuvered around a tight curve and had to bend him somewhat. He was still alive; now to keep him alive to get him up that ladder and out of here.

XXXX

Marco led the mummy and handed him off to Brice and Bellingham who had their hands full of other victims found in the fun-house. He stared pleadingly at Cap as Chet stood in the doorway spewing water slowly down the stairs. The rest of the building was lost. Cap's HT crackled to life.

"Cap, we've got a victim at the bottom of the stairs. We need a stokes."

The steeple took that moment to take its final breath as it fell further into the softened flaming porch as the railing gave way right next to Chet who sidestepped it deftly and continued his stream of water with a new found confidence at hearing his shift mate's calls. Stoker grabbed a stokes and handed it Marco without a word. Marco met Cap's eyes.

"Three minutes," Cap allowed solemnly, his heart dulling in his chest, sending a prayer up and hoping it was received even though this holy ground had been soured.

The stokes came down on a rope and Roy built a rope tent under the wooden stake so it wouldn't move.

"Keep his head above his feet at all times if you can!" he shouted up as the rope pulled taught and the vampire flew away from them.

John shoved the mask over Roy's face as soon as the victim was out of his hands. Roy breathed and coughed and couldn't argue taking the rung and swinging himself up. He turned once topside and grabbed John's hands pulling him the rest of the way.

Chet had to take a chance and shove the hose firmly into the one remaining solid iron railing in the vestibule. It held firm. He and Marco handed the stokes out to paramedics from 110 and turned back to help their friends.

The four men blew from the porch, landing three feet away in an ungraceful heap. One by one they got to their feet to get the snaking hose under control. Mike cut the pressure and the tower was ordered to surround and drown. There was nothing left.

John counted the bodies on the yellow blankets being assessed.

"Two have been taken to Rampart. The rest are still waiting for ambulances. We lost two teens at least at last count. It'll be awhile before we know if anyone else was inside," Cap said sadly.

Brice and Bellingham had turned the mummy over to other paramedics and were now holding down a convulsing vampire. Roy and John threw themselves forward onto the ground to help hold down thrashing legs and arms. Bellingham looked horrified as he held the wooden stake firmly into the boy's chest like a cheap B movie.

Two shots of Atropine later the convulsing stopped. Brice placed a stethoscope on the young man's chest.

"He's alive," was the announcement.

John was exhausted. Images of an old Frankenstein movie played in his head as he held firm to the boy's legs until they were sure the convulsing was over.

He's alive!

Bellingham was pale but his bloody hands were steady as he followed in perfectly timed steps with the gurney, holding steadfast to the wooden stake. The vampire fought for his life with everything he had as two IV's snaked up his arms and one from his ankle.

"Brice, wait a minute. You need to take Roy in too. Looks like he'll need stitches," Gage assessed quickly, looking at Roy's hand.

"It's a minor scratch from the coffin lid," Roy tried to shrug off.

"Time's a-wastin' Roy, get in, that's an order," Cap shouted after him causing John to blanch. He and Roy would have words later.

The ambulance sped off, sirens wailing. Gage coughed a bit as Cap helped him off with his turnout. Chet and Marco, soot faced and grim about the news of the teens they couldn't save sat down on the bumper of the squad beside him. The sirens bled out and with a great shower of sparks the speakers from the formerly fun house died out leaving an eerie silence that intensified the sounds of the crackling of the flames consuming their food.

"You hurt, John?" Cap asked, noting his youngest man's slumped posture.

Gage sat up straighter.

"No sir. Just …"

Cap studied Gage. He had a penchant for minimizing injuries. He looked okay, save for the soot around his nose and a slight wheeze, which they all had.

"The concession guy a half lane-way up stayed open and is giving free soda and drinks to emergency personnel and employees. Why don't you go get a nice coke with ice for your throat?" Cap suggested.

John needed to be alone to think. He had to talk to Roy. First he thought about how he would apologize for not following a direct order, then he raised his chin as he made his way to the concession. He wouldn't apologize for coming back for his best friend. He'd find some way to convey his respect but the thought of Jen and Chris being without their dad like he'd been for most of his life was something he couldn't accept.

John stopped to catch his breath after a coughing fit. That coke would sure taste good about now. The park was flooded in pastel lights of pink, green and blue from rides abandoned by their operators when the fun-house caught fire. Acrid smoke mixed with burnt carnival food turned John's stomach. This was a close one for all of them. The thought of the two dead teens sagged his shoulders and the spookiness of an empty fairground filled him with dread he couldn't explain. The fine hairs on his arms stood up. He put it up to being cold, having shucked his turnout gear and now wearing only his wet uniform clothes.

John turned his collar up a bit and started walking back toward the squad suddenly not wanting a coke. He chided himself for being so foolish and letting the murders get to him. It was midnight. If only the fun-house had waited a few hours, it would have been a simple surround and drown. Footsteps behind him caused him to turn on his heel but he never got to see who was behind him. He clutched at his thigh as he looked up at a blurry face. His mouth opened to speak.

"Gahhhhhh!" was all he managed to get out before his world went dark.