Easy Come, Easy Go
By Willowwind
"Morning" Roy stated, entering the kitchen. Chet and Captain Stanley were standing in front of the coffee pot, blocking the way to Roy’s life’s blood. "Excuse me. Can a man get some coffee around here?" The Captain filled Roy’s coffee cup and handed it to him.
"Guess what, Roy?" Chet said enthusiastically.
"What?" Roy played along.
"Captain’s won the lottery . . . a cool million bucks," grinned the fire fighter.
Roy’s brows lifted in surprise. "Well," he smiled broadly, "congratulations. What do you think you’ll do with all that money?"
"What money?" John Gage bounced into the kitchen with his usual quick step.
"The Captain’s won the lottery," Chet repeated proudly.
Gage’s dark eyes lit up. "The lottery, eh? Can I ask how much we’re talking about?" A broad grin spread across his face.
Hank Stanley opened his mouth to answer, but Chet interjected, "One cool million."
"Thanks, Chet," the Captain said flatly.
"A million dollars?" Gage’s voice climbed an octave. He rolled his eyes and said, "What I could do with that kind of money . . ." His voice trailed off.
"I’m surprised you came to work today." Roy smiled at Captain Stanley.
"Well . . . I needed something to do to take my mind off of it. The lottery office isn’t open on Sunday, so I can’t get there 'til tomorrow anyway. . . so, I’m here."
"But, Cap . . . a million bucks. Think about it. What will you do with it all?" Gage showed a toothy grin. "I’d buy a boat, a big boat, and go on a world cruise. Then I’d buy a big house and new furniture and . . ."
Roy remained silent, grinning at his partner and giving the Captain that 'sure you would' look. He knew that Gage was dreaming again and that was part of his charm.
"But you didn’t win, the Captain did." Chet pushed Gage’s button.
"I know, I know, but if I did . . . "
The bell rang, calling the Squad for a man who had fallen from a roof. John stopped in mid-sentence and bolted out the door. Roy was at his heels. The Captain responded to the radio, handed Roy the address on a slip of paper and the Squad pulled out of the garage.
"What would you do with a million dollars?" John asked his partner, on the way to the call.
"I don’t know," Roy started.
"You don’t know?!"
"I mean . . . I’d have to think about it a while first. Sure, there’s plenty that I’d like to do with it, college for the kids, a new house, a vacation. But there’s plenty of other things to consider too."
"Like what?" Gage’s eyes bored into him.
"Investments, people who just appear wanting you to give to this cause or that . . . not that there’s anything wrong with donating money to a good cause, but there’s a lot of kooks out there, taxes, that sort of thing." Roy made a right turn. "You know they take taxes off the top, so you don’t get the whole million?" He said mater-of-factly.
John nodded his dark head. "I guess you’re right. I forgot about Uncle Sam and his fair share. . . and, there are kooks out just to get your money. Where do those people come from anyway? And how do they get a winner's name?"
"Publicity," Roy stated. "That stuff is all over the news. Its easy."
"Yeah, I can imagine."
Roy pulled the squad over to the curb at the call address. A lady ran out, waving her hands frantically. "He’s over here. Please hurry."
The boys jumped out of the truck, gathered their gear and followed the woman to the man laying flat on his back in the driveway in front of the garage. John knelt beside him. "What happened?" The man was conscious.
"I fe . . . fell off the roof. I was trying to patch some shingles and the ladder slipped just as I stepped on it to climb down. I landed here." He half smiled.
"What hurts?" John asked, placing one hand on the man’s stomach to count respirations.
"My back and my left leg hurt a lot."
John glanced at the leg, it was obviously fractured below the knee. He noted that to Roy, who was on the biophone giving vitals to Rampart. Shortly, the ambulance arrived on scene, the patient was packaged and loaded for transport.
Once at Rampart, Doctor Morton met the patient and paramedics in the hall. "Treatment 4," he said. Pushing the gurney into the room, he asked what happened.
The paramedics filled him in on the mechanism of injury and treatment rendered. Doctor Morton ordered a series of x-rays and some blood tests and the nurse made the arrangements.
"Captain Stanley won the lottery," Gage’s enthusiasm spilled out.
"What? He won the lottery? Are you sure?" Doctor Morton’s eyes widened.
"He won the lottery."
Roy nodded in agreement. "Got the ticket yesterday and it matched all the numbers. He won a million dollars! Can you believe it?"
"Man, what I could do with that kind of money..." Morton’s voice trailed off as thoughts ran through his head. Just then the x-ray tech appeared and they left the room for x-rays to be taken.
John and Roy walked down the short hall to the desk where Dixie was filling out some paperwork. "Hi, boys. What’s new?"
"Don’t ask," Roy stated flatly.
"Oh, something wrong?" she said.
"Nothing's wrong," John smiled. "In fact, everything’s just fine, great in fact." he beamed.
"Let me guess, you had a date last night and things went well," Dixie teased.
"Who had a date?" Kelly Brackett rambled in to get some coffee. He reached for a cup.
"No, no, nothing like that. Captain Stanley won the lottery . . . he won a million dollars."
Roy took a sip of coffee. "The way you act, sounds like you won it."
"If I had, I surely wouldn’t have come to work today," John said .
"Wait a minute. Hank Stanley won a million dollar lottery and he came to work today?!" Surprise and confusion registered on the doctor’s face, then a grin spread across his face. "I don’t think I’d be here if I won that kind of money."
"He said he couldn’t cash in the ticket on Sunday anyway," Roy said, picking up supplies to restock the drug box. "Guess we’d better go. Thanks for the coffee." He held up his paper cup and turned to start down the hall.
The squad backed into the station, and the boys entered the kitchen. Marco, Stoker, Chet and Captain Stanley huddled around the table discussing the lottery. Roy sauntered towards the coffee pot and John followed at his heels.
"We’re helping the Cap figure out what to do with his winnings," Chet said.
"Yeah," Marco added. He sat back in the chair. "What would you do with all that money, Johnny?"
Gage opened his mouth to speak as Roy interrupted, "He’s got it all spent already."
Johnny’s brown eyes flashed, "He was asking me."
Roy held up his free hand in defense, "Okay, okay."
"Besides, I already told you what I’d do . . . buy a boat, a house, and new car, go on vacation, invest . . . "
"We get the picture," Captain Stanley nodded. "But, you didn’t win it, I did. It's sort of overwhelming really . . . all that money, all at once. I may have to think about this for a while." He rubbed his chin.
At that very moment the tones went off, and the radio blared, sending the station to a structure fire. The boys scrambled to their respective trucks and sped out of the garage, lights and sirens full blast.
John turned to Roy, "What would you do with a million dollars?" He flashed a toothy grin.
"You already asked me that and for starters, I didn’t win, but if I did, I really don’t know what I’d do with that much cash. I wouldn’t be working here," he smiled and added. "I might even start my own fire department." He pulled the squad over to the curb in front of the engine and got out.
They found a single story, cottage style house that was fully involved. All the residents were out, but no one could find the family dog. He rushed to the back of the house, where the Irish Setter was laying, its red fur singed, not breathing. He scooped the animal up in his arms and carried it to the squad. "Get me some O2," he told Roy.
Johnny placed a nasal cannula on the dog’s nose and turned the tank on. Within a few minutes the animal roused and struggled indicating it was conscious. A little boy ran over and threw his arms around his pet.
"Thanks mister," he told John, eyes brimming with tears. All Gage could do was smile and nod.
Thirty minutes later the trucks pulled into the station and lunch was on their minds more than anything. It was Stoker’s turn to cook and the boys were looking forward to his fried chicken.
Lunch was on the table in short order. Marco turned on the television, tuning the channel to the local news just in time to hear the anchor say something about a glitch in the lottery drawing . . . that there was a problem with the tickets. As the story went, all the tickets printed on the day of the drawing were assigned the same number -- which happened to be the winning number. There were thousands of tickets sold since the winnings were large. They were following up on the breaking story at the evening broadcast.
"Does that mean you didn’t win anything?" John said, his brow wrinkled.
The Captain’s face went blank. The impact of the news story was just sinking in. Did he win or not? He didn’t know, nobody did. Even the other people who held winning tickets didn’t know if they’d won or not. All the Captain could do was throw his hands in the air and shrug, saying "I don’t know."
Chet leaned across the expansive table, looked Hank Stanley in the eye and said, "Aren’t you going to call and find out?"
"What good would it do? If thousands of tickets were printed and everyone holding one called the lottery office, the phones would be jammed for hours. I’ll just have to wait till the 6 o’clock news and find out. Now, after lunch, we’ll have a drill . . ."
The early afternoon was fairly quiet. Roy and John took advantage of the time to stock up on supplies at the hospital. As they were checking supplies off their list, Joe Early strolled up. "I understand you all had a stroke of good luck at the station. The Captain, I mean."
"Maybe, maybe not," Roy grinned.
"What do you mean?"
"Didn’t you see the news at noon? There’s some sort of problem with the lottery tickets. They don’t know if anybody won or not." Gage smiled.
"He’s right." Dixie took her seat at the desk. "I heard the story on my lunch break."
"Problem, eh? Did all the tickets have the same number or something?" He kidded.
"Roy, Dixie and Johnny exchanged surprised looks and said in unison, "How’d you know?"
"You’re kidding? All the tickets have the same number? That’s wild," replied the doctor.
"That’s what the news said." Dixie shuffled the papers in the chart in front of her.
"The Captain doesn’t know if he won or not. He’s worried about it all afternoon . . . we had to get out of there before he drove us crazy," Roy said.
The radio sputtered and tones sounded calling Station 51 to a structure fire. It must have been a big one because the tones kept sounding. "Gotta go," Johnny said as he set down his coffee cup and half ran down the hall to the door.
The Squad pulled up to the address given on the radio. It was a hotel. People were running in all directions adding to the ever-present crowd of bystanders. Smoke was pouring out of the building’s second floor and several trapped people waved from the balcony for help. Several engine companies arrived on scene with sirens blarring and hose streaming from the back. The whole place was a mess of firefighters, residents and others who’d gotten caught up in the drama.
John and Roy suited up in turnout gear and air masks, heading toward the building to reach the trapped residents. Ladders were no good, so they had to make entry from inside the building itself. The pair crept along the fire hoses to find their way through the choking, black smoke.
Finally they managed to reach the third floor balcony and pull in the two remaining victims just before the floor where they were standing crashed into the floor below. They carried the two over their shoulders, through the smoke and flames, out to safety.
The victims were suffering only smoke inhalation and minor burns. A couple of fire fighters were already holding oxygen masks to their faces. John got on the biophone to alert Rampart as to what they had on scene. They were told to start IV’s and transport.
The massive fire took the rest of the afternoon to extinguish. Once back at the station everyone was famished so Stoker wasted no time cooking up a platter of roast beef and mashed potatoes. John and Roy pulled in just in time to eat and watch the evening news. The Captain was pacing, anxious to learn more about the lottery. The group gathered around the television to eat.
"Wonder what they’ll say about the lottery?" Chet said.
"I hope the tell us something. Maybe they’ll get to the bottom of it and let us know the winning numbers," Marco offered.
Stoker quietly replied, "Yeah, that’d be nice."
"Nice! Nice! You’re not the one holding the ticket, pal," Hank Stanley nearly shouted.
Roy and Johnny just grinned at each other. Just as Roy set his plate on the table, the television news came on. The reporter went through the day’s events, promising that an update on the lottery story would be up right after the next commercial.
"Now, you’ll find out something," Roy tried to sooth the tension.
"Right after these words," Gage mimicked the television, even with a mouthful of potatoes.
A split second later, the station claxon went off. This time it was a one car over the cliff. The group got up and bolted out the door, leaving food on the table and the television on. The Captain took the radio mike and said, "Station 51, 10-4, KMG365," before running to hop on the engine the just before it pulled out. Would he ever find out whether or not he won the lottery? He’d just have to wait and see the late broadcast of the news.
They seemed to drive forever, around curves, over hills, back into the rougher terrain of the county. Finally, they arrived on scene to find a single vehicle over the cliff, resting against a small tree. A woman and a little boy were trapped behind the wedged doors of the vehicle. Both seemed shaken, but otherwise unhurt.
Once the doors were popped open, both victims agreed to be taken to Rampart to be checked out. Shortly afterward an ambulance arrived and the victims were transported to the hospital.
The captain checked his watch. The news would surely be over by now. He stomped his foot in the dirt. He shrugged his shoulders, picked up the radio and told dispatch to put the station available.
Back at the hospital Kel Brackett saw to the victims while John and Roy treated themselves to coffee at the desk.
"What’d Captain Stanley think about the lottery outcome?" Dixie said.
"What was it?" Roy asked. "We got a call just before the story came on."
Dixie smiled slightly, "Well . . . it seems that the lottery group is just going to have to do the whole thing over."
"Over?" John gulped the hot liquid from the paper cup.
"That’s right. They couldn’t unravel the problem, so they just decided to void the whole thing and start over. None of the tickets are any good."
Roy rolled his blue eyes. "I don’t think I want to be there when he finds out."
"Me neither. Boy will he be mad," Gage added.
Dixie held up her hands in mock defense. "Don’t shoot the messenger."
The boys smiled. "I guess we’d better get back," Roy said.
Gage grabbed the radio, lifted his paper cup as if to echo the goodbye and they headed for their truck.
Hank Stanley was on the phone when the boys got back. He’d called his wife, he’d called his neighbor, he even called the television station. Nobody knew about the lottery story . . . nobody. Chet was at his heels, hanging over his shoulder, like a cat watching its prey, waiting for an answer.
"I know what happened," Roy said slyly and poured himself some coffee.
The captain spun around so fast that he ran right over Chet. He pushed the mustached fire fighter to one side, strode over to Roy, placed his hands on Roy’s shoulders and said, "What?"
Johnny bounded into the kitchen, "Did you hear? Dixie said the lottery has to be redone."
Roy repeated his partner’s words. "The drawing for yesterday’s lottery was considered null and void. They’ll have to do another to replace it. Dixie heard the story on the news. The lottery board said it was the only fair thing to do."
What could he do? Hank Stanley calmly reached in his pocket, took out the lottery ticket he’d purchased the day before, tore it into little pieces and threw it into the air. All the guys looked at him, not knowing what to think. As he left the room, the captain muttered something that sounded like "easy come, easy go."
The End