Roy watched them as they reached Chet's last known location. He said a silent prayer for the missing crewmen. The two men stopped where the house once stood. Mike searched the hillside for signs of the lost man.

 "That was the last place I saw him, before the hillside gave way," Marco said and pointed toward what remained of the front porch.

 They saw no sign of him or the cat and continued toward where the little bungalow now rested. The two called out in the hope that he was nearby and could hear them.

"Chet? Chet, can you hear me?" shouted an anxious Stoker 

"Chet! Hey, amigo! Can you hear us? Where are you?" called out Lopez 

They received no answer as they continued their descent. Thirty feet further down the slope Marco stopped Stoker with a shout.

"Look! I think I see a boot over there. It has to be him!"

Stoker said, "C'mon. Let's find out."

They hurried toward what they hoped was their missing man. It was rough going in the mud. Every step forward was met with at least one backward. By the time they reached their destination both firefighters were covered in mud.

Marco dropped down and started to dig around the boot.

"Mike! It's him. C'mon give me a hand, hurry!"

Stoker started digging. They soon had unearthed the mud-covered figure. Chet was lying face down with his helmet protecting his face. His arms were around his chest 

"Chet! Can you hear me? Chet?!" shouted Marco.

Slowly the man moved a little. He sucked in a deep breath and let out a loud groan.

Meanwhile, Stoker called Roy on the HT to notify him that Chet had been found and that they needed a stokes sent down. Roy gathered the stokes and a cervical collar and with the help of Engine company 36, who had arrived on the scene, he sent those down to the men below before returning to his victim. Both Mike and Marco had assisted the two paramedics enough to know how to apply a soft collar.

"Chet? We're gonna get you out of here okay. Try not to move. Just let us do all the work," said Stoker as he and Marco prepared Chet for the journey up the hill. Chet was stunned and kept trying to put his hands to his chest.

"Easy pal. We'll have you topside in no time and Roy can have a look at you." Chet moaned in response and they started toward the top.

 Tom Wheeler from squad 36 walked over to where DeSoto was on the biophone to Rampart. Roy glanced up at the paramedic as he began to write down instructions from Brackett.

 "Hey, Roy. I heard Gage and Captain Stanley are the code I's that were called in."

 "Yeah. They are. Went down with a house in a mudslide."

Wheeler squatted down in front of Roy. "You want me to take over here? I can start the IV and all so you can be here for your crew."

Roy was surprised; Wheeler could be a jerk at times. This was a side Roy wasn't used to seeing. He wasn't used to turning over patients, but under the circumstances, he wanted to. The woman would be in reliable hands, he reminded himself.

"Yeah. Here's the information," Roy pointed to the tablet he had written on.

"I'll stay on the biophone here with you till Mike and Marco get Chet up here."

"Okay."

"Thanks, Wheeler."

"Hey. They're your guys."

Roy was ready and waiting when they set the stokes down.

"Hey Chet. Good to see you again. How're you feeling?" he asked. Chet groaned again and mumbled something.

"What was that Chet?" Roy asked again.

Finally the word escaped his lips, "Cat!"

"Cat? Oh, the cat! I don't know where it is." replied Roy.

"Here!" Chet responded, finally getting his hands to his chest.

They finally noticed a slight movement under his turnout coat. Once they removed the shaken cat from Chet's chest Roy was able to see the claw marks.

"She sure got you good Chet," he said.

"I'm gonna kill Gage for this," Chet replied testily. He did not know that the fate of his co-workers was still uncertain as the little house once again shifted toward the bottom of the ravine.

~+~+~+~+~

Roy lightly dabbed at the angry red scratches on Chet's chest. They weren't deep but the injured man was playing it for all it was worth 

"Ouch Roy, stop that!" Chet whined through clenched teeth. "Boy I'll tell ya the phantom is gonna visit Gage for this one."

"Chet it's really not that bad. In a couple days you won't know anything has happened." Roy tried to reason with the fireman.

"Well Roy it's not the extent of the injury that matters to the phantom,it's the circumstances."

Roy opened his mouth to respond but his words were drowned out by the sound of creaking metal and wood. Both men looked in the direction of the sound, comprehension slowly setting in. The mangled structure had slid further down the hill.

Chet looked at Roy, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. "Roy, where is Johnny? He made it out didn't he? He had to. He was right behind me!" He started to sit up but Roy reached out and placed a restraining hand on his chest.

"Easy Chet. You gotta take it easy. Gettin' upset is not gonna help you or Johnny."

 "Roy let me go! I'm fine and the crew is gonna need all the manpower they can get to help with the search." Chet's voice was eerily quiet as he spoke but his eyes burned with a determination that surprised the red-headed paramedic. 

~+~+~+~+~

"John!"

 "I'm okay, Cap," Johnny managed between gasps, his eyes shut tight. "Jus'. .. just give me a minute."

Hank Stanley squatted down beside the injured paramedic, wincing at the pain it caused in his knee and left side. 

"Look, John, I know you're not okay. Can you just tell me where the worst of the pain is?"

 Johnny moaned, opening his eyes. "Can we get . . . get out of here?"

 Hank shook his head. "I think the whole house is buried in mud. They'll have to dig us out of here."

"Oh man. I . . . I don't even have . . . any supplies."

 Johnny gasped as he moved his ankle slightly.

 Captain Stanley surveyed their surroundings in the room as more ominous creaks could be heard. The mud continued to seep in the windows. It was coming in at a slow pace, but Hank knew that besides their injuries, the mud was a real threat to them until they could get out.

 The house shifted and began to slide farther down the hill. This time the men were spared the battering they received when the house first went down, but the mud oozed up more through the windows that were on the floor as it slid along.

 Once the house settled again, Hank Stanley let out the breath he'd been holding.

 "John, you think it's safe for me to move you? I'm afraid if the house shifts much more, this cabinet thing may come down on you."

 "Yeah . . . jus' . . . just help me . . . over."

 The Captain slowly stood up, masking the pain he felt with the movement. He could see Johnny eyeing him carefully.

 "What?"

 "Nothin'. You'd tell me if you're . . . if you were hurt, right?"

 Walking around to help Johnny, Hank sidestepped the question. 

~+~+~+~+~

 Roy stared as Wheeler loaded the elderly woman in the ambulance and shut the doors behind his partner. Her cat was being taken to a local vet for observation by two police officers on the scene.

 As he watched the vehicles pull away, Roy sat Chet down on the bumper of the squad.

 "You were just dug out of a mudslide. You need to be checked out."

 "Roy, I was in an air pocket. I could breathe. I'm okay," Chet carried on, his arms waving around as he spoke. "Where's Cap? I want to discuss this with him."

 Roy didn't reply. Instead he just wrapped the BP cuff around Chet's arm.

 "Roy, where's Cap? He *did* make it up okay, didn't he?" Chet asked, not wanting to believe where this was heading.

 "He's with Johnny," Roy sighed. "They both went down inside the house."

 For the first time since he had been pulled out of the mud, Chet was speechless. His mouth hung open in disbelief.

 ~+~+~+~+~

 Johnny eyed the towering pile of furniture with trepidation. When the house careened down the hillside, most of the massive bedroom suite had ended up in the corner where he lay, leaving the rest of the room relatively clear.

Since the door that led to the hallway was now part of the ceiling, it was impossible for he and Cap to get out of the bedroom on their own. Their safest course of action was to put as much distance between themselves and teetering pile of debris as possible and wait for rescue.

 The question was HOW were they supposed to do that? Gage knew there was no way he could climb over the mountain of wreckage. The pain in his ankle was breathtaking and it was all he could do to stay conscious. And despite his repeated claims that he was 'fine,' the captain was clearly in a great deal of pain himself. Johnny seriously doubted that Stanley would be able to carry him over the obstacle but the older man seemed determined to try.

 "Cap, I don't think I can do this. You're gonna have to climb out and leave me here."

 "Not an option," was Stanley's firm reply. "We go together or we don't go at all. And the first thing we need to do is get you on up." Hank crouched behind Johnny and grabbed the injured man under the arms. "You ready?"

 "No, but let's try it anyway."

 Hank pushed himself to his feet, pulling Johnny with him. He stifled a groan as the other man's weight, slight as it was, strained his aching ribs.

"Okay," he said breathlessly, "see if you can bear any weight on that ankle."

 Gage gritted his teeth and tried to place the sole of his left boot gentlyon the flowered wallpaper that now served as the floor. His boot heel brushed lightly against the surface and it was all he could do not to scream. The pain was indescribable. If not for Cap's firm grip on his arms,

Johnny would have collapsed in a heap. "Oh God," he gasped, "I can't, I . .. I'm gonna. . . ." The already dim room grayed before his eyes and he passed out.

~+~+~+~+~

"John?" Hank shook the paramedic gently. "John?"

 Johnny opened his eyes slowly. He was flat on his back again, gazing up into the worried eyes of his captain.

"Still with me, pal?"

Gage nodded. "Y-yeah. Barely."

"I'm gonna try and get a look at your ankle, okay?

Another nod, and a strained, "Okay."

Hank dug in his pockets for his Swiss army knife, crouched beside the injured man and carefully slit his muddy pant leg to the knee. He bit back a gasp as the fabric parted and the extent of Gage's injury was revealed. His left ankle was badly deformed, the foot twisted inward at nearly a 30-degree angle. The bruised tissue was swelling rapidly, bulging out over the top of his boot.

 "It's bad, isn't it?"

 "Yeah, pal. It's bad."

 "Help me sit up."

Hank slid an arm around the paramedic's shoulders and gently helped him into a seated position. He grabbed a couple of the quilts that had fallen out of the armoire and stuffed them behind Johnny's back. "Here, lean on these."

"Thanks." Gage was pale and shaking but he managed a strained smile. "Okay, let's see what . . ," his voice trailed off as he got a good look at his left ankle. "Shit," he breathed after a long moment. "Oh, shit."

 "That about covers it," Hank laughed mirthlessly.

 Johnny leaned forward and ran his hands carefully over the deformed joint, hissing in agony despite the feather-light touch. "I don't think it's broken," he said finally, sagging back against the quilts, white faced and sweating. "I think it's dislocated."

"How can I help?"

"You got a knife, right?"

Hank produced a Swiss army knife again. "Yeah, but what good will that do?"

"I need you to cut that boot off for me."

"What?!" Hank was horrified. The pain would be unimaginable. "I can't!"

"You have to, Cap. It's gonna keep swelling and the boot's gonna keep getting tighter. It could cut off the circulation to my foot." 

"John, I don't know if I can." Hank shuddered at the thought. Joking about playing paramedic was one thing. This was something else entirely. What if

he did something wrong? What if, in trying to help, he made the situation worse?

"You HAVE to," Gage insisted. "It's got to be done, Cap, and I can't do it myself."

Hank blew out a frustrated breath. "Okay, okay. I'll try."

Johnny closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the pile of quilts. "You'll do fine," he said quietly. "And Cap ..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm probably gonna scream but don't let that stop you, okay?"

Stanley swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. "Uh ... yeah, okay, pal." He slipped the knife blade under the edge of Gage's boot and began the slow torturous process of sawing through the thick leather.

John looked away as his captain went to work. He knew that his boss didn't want to cause him more pain even though they both understood it was inevitable. Then he closed his eyes to spare his friend the added stress of being under close observation as he continued the painful process. Finally,the knife was through.

"John, I'm sorry. I know this is gonna be rough on you."

"It's alright Cap. I told you it's gotta be done. Just do it fast, okay?"

Hank did as he was instructed. He wasn't prepared for the agonized scream that came from his young paramedic. He watched helplessly as the intense pain claimed Johnny and he once more slipped into oblivion.

"I'm sorry pal," he said softly. "Get some rest while you can. I hope they get us out of here soon."

He sat down slowly, took as deep a breath as his aching ribs would allow, and watched the mud continue to ooze in the windows at a slow steady pace. Then placing his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and waited.

~+~+~+~+~

The men of 51's were anxious to get started on the rescue effort. The captain of 36's had taken charge of the scene and acknowledged the seriousness of the situation. They knew they didn't have much time left before the little house would finish its slide.

 "Okay men. Does anyone have an idea as to where in the house they were when it started to slide?" asked Captain Stone. 

"I was out on the porch and they left the bedroom after me. I guess they would have been in the living room," replied Chet.

"It's a fairly small house Cap. A living room, kitchen, and bathroom. I believe there was only one bedroom. It was behind the living room," added Roy. "Besides, the way it turned and rolled, they could be anywhere in there."

"I don't need to tell you that time is not on our side. We need to get down there and get them out fast. We also need to be prepared for the fact that they may be seriously injured or worse. I don't think I need to spell it out. Currently the house is caught on a rocky ledge, but the rate at which the mud is sliding has increased. Stoker, I want your crew up top manning the lines."

"Captain Stone," said Stoker.

Stone held up his hand and said, "I know you want to go down and get them. You are all too close to the situation. I really feel it's best if you all work this end." 

"No disrespect sir, but would you be content to work the lines if it were your friends down there?" asked a frustrated Mike Stoker.

"No. I wouldn't. I know how you feel, but..." 

"C'mon Cap! Please . . ," pleaded a worried Chet Kelly. 

Station 110 arrived at that moment to provide additional manpower.

Captain Stone smiled and wearily shook his head. "Alright. I want you all to be extremely cautious approaching the house. Any sign of danger and you abandon the attempt. Am I understood?" He looked each man in the eyes and awaited their acknowledgement.

"Good. Let's go."

To Part 3