Superman

                ~by AJM~

 

This one-shot Emergency! zine features two great stories by AJM, To Rescue Superman and A Memo to Whom?

Cover photo courtesy of Joan Emerson; Nurstoon comics inside by Carl Elbing

 

Gen, with a non-graphic het relationship (Brackett/McCall)--Rampart-focused, but with some wonderful scenes for the Boys of 51. J

 

To Rescue Superman--

A "what if" story for the episode "How Green is My Thumb?"  When Brackett had to operate on the man with the grenade inside him, what if all hadn't gone well?  What if the grenade had exploded?

 

"It figures you'd find something to play with, Chet," Marco scolded teasingly as he kicked and prodded at the box springs.

"Still works.  There's even candy inside," Chet continued.

"I had one of those when I was a kid--"  Marco stopped as his co-worker grabbed him by his sleeve in alarm.  "What is it, Chet?"

"Marco...did you cough?"

"No."

"I distinctly heard somebody cough."

"Maybe it was one of the guys," Marco speculated.

"No!  No, no.  Uh-uh.  It was coming from right down here by the mattresses."  Chet returned to the location that he'd had found the toy.  Another cough and a moan greeted him.

"Get Cap!"  Chet flew to the source of the noise as Marco headed in the opposite direction, toward their captain.  "And some burn packs!"

"Right!" 

 

**********

Dixie instinctively flicked the syringe and expelled the air bubbles from the syringe of MS she had just drawn, realizing after the action the futility of that step in the procedure.

The gentle swish of the door opening drew her attention to the solemn face of paramedic John Gage.

"All right to come in?" Johnny asked.

"Sure, grab a mask and gown."

Following instructions, the paramedic slowly walked to the nurse's side.  For strength and encouragement, Johnny looked to her face; both he and Dixie viewed the patient.

"His name's Kyle Withers," Dixie offered.

Johnny nodded in acknowledgement; Dixie could see him turn up a corner of his lips beneath his mask.  "Hey, Kyle."

Dixie reviewed the patient's information for professional enlightenment.  "He's in his forties, married--wife, Erica.  Three kids, all girls."

Johnny contributed," I didn't know him well, but just talking briefly with him before the explosion....  He was a nice guy--funny, too."

What more could be said about the picture before them?  Part of the art of a holocaust.  The current of conversation silently shifted with Dixie's comment, "Pretty impressive running, I hear."

Johnny released a chuckle.  "Yeah, I don't think I've run that fast in my entire life--not even in high school.  Guess it's true what they say about fear being a great motivator."  His voice trailed off as they discovered additional small, misshapen distortions of the patient's anatomy.  If it weren't for the brave decision of their friend, the young paramedic could have drawn the same fate.  "Kel, um...ordered us out," Johnny informed her pensively, mentally reviewing the events.  He seemed unsure if he would be able to finish his words.  "And he made sure we were out, or at least well on our way.  He…um, certainly was committed.  He was one extraordinary man."

Dixie's eyes looked to the ceiling for courage as she blinked back tears.  "Yeah…he is."

 

A Memo to Whom?--

A welcome-home joke intended for Kel goes a bit awry, causing mass insanity.  Did it pay for Kel to take a vacation after all?  You decide.

 

"He'll flip," Joe Early complimented.

"He'll die," Mike Morton chortled skeptically.

"And that's just Day One!" Sam boasted.  Eagerly, he showed them the rest of the piece of paper.  "Behold my masterpiece."

"We Put the 'Us' in Clusterf--?  Sam, this is cruel--"

"You ought to see what I put Dixie down for on Sunday morning!"

"Since when is she...?  Oh, right.  By the way, Mike, bless you."  Joe dragged a hanky over his cheek as he perused the symposium schedule, cackling and sputtering.  "So this little baby is going to be in Kel's mailbox?"

"Right," Sam said.  "Meanwhile, the agenda that's been the same since the beginning of time and ever more shall be goes to administration, then the rest of the world."

"Administration?"

"Our dear Dr. Brackett is administration in this particular case," Sam reminded them.  "His signature is Rampart's seal of approval.  So, he'll eventually see the real thing--but in the meantime, we'll give his coronaries a little squeeze."

"You're a genius, Sam."  The white-haired physician patted Sam's shoulder, looking over his reading glasses.  "I wish I could be a fly on his desk when he reads this beauty."

"Do you really think he'll read it?" Mike questioned.

"He'll read it, if only to make sure that Sam didn't sign him up for all of Saturday's lectures.  He's anal enough, especially if he's got to sign for its approval," Joe supported.  His eyes lit up with inspiration.  "Say, I'll bet you could make this look just like the flier that goes out to the masses."

"I know.  We can, we must--and we will," Sam connived in a presidential tone.

"Joe?  I'm telling you guys, this is not a good idea," Mike warned.

"You disappoint me, Mike," Joe reprimanded warmly.

"Don't take it to heart, Joe," Sam played.  "Somebody has to play the role of Chief Tight-Ass while Kel's away.  Mike's a natural."

Mike ignored them, standing firm.  "Be serious.  We all know Kel.  When he reads this, he'll hemorrhage."

"We're doctors; we can fix that.  Besides, he'll be thrilled that we care about him enough to want to make his return less burdensome."  Joe smiled naughtily.  "Think of it as a kind of Welcome Home gift."

 

Available from LionHeart Distribution

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