Durfee's head snapped up, and he ran to her side, Wick right behind him.
Durfee took one look at Bell's face...he looked like..."No more waiting for
the crane," he shouted to the others, "get out the jaws - we're going to tear
the hood and the roof off and get him out now!"
People began to scatter, quickly assembling the equipment. Kathleen took
Bell's hand once more, inching over as Wick leaned in. She ignored the
growing noise behind her and concentrated. "He's unconscious, pulse slow and
erratic, resps are shallow..." she recited, never taking her eyes off of Bell.
Wick nodded quickly. "Hospital's already prepped, they got 4 pints of O-neg
in Trauma I, trauma team’s assembled and waitin’ for us."
"Good." Kathleen looked up. "I'm staying with him."
Wick stared at her for a moment. "Okay. When we pull him out, you stabilize
the head and neck, and I'll support his back until we can slide him onto the
board. And 29's right behind us - you and me and Mario'll be in the back, Ben
will drive, and Durfee can sit up front."
Kathleen nodded curtly. "Sounds like a plan." She turned her head and scanned
the crowd of people. "Where’s his brother? I thought he would be here by now."
"I don’t know…" Wick answered, tugging at his stethoscope. He began pumping
the blood-pressure cuff, hoping to get one more reading before he had to get
out of the way. "80 over 60…" he muttered. Too damn low. Wick reached over to
gently tuck Bell’s arm back against the seat. He held on for a moment and
tried not to look at Ryan. "It’ll probably get pretty shaky in here when
they-"
"I know that…I’ll hold him steady."
Wick took a breath. "Listen, Ryan, about this morn-"
"Not now, Wick." Kathleen interrupted, her voice sharp.
"He’s my friend, too."
Kathleen nodded and sighed. "I know," she looked at him, "I know,
Wick…they’re ready to start…you’d better pull back."
The roar of the engine was loud, so loud, and she pulled her head down, close
to Bell’s chest, to try to shield him as much as possible from any debris.
Her eyes shut, and for a moment, she heard nothing but his heartbeat. Then –
"Okay, okay, let’s move, people! Get him out, get him out!" Durfee shouted
next to her. Kathleen opened her eyes and quickly looked at Bell’s face.
Nothing. She put her hands on either side of his head as Wick climbed in from
the other side and stabilized his back. Kathleen could feel the backboard
bump into her as it was positioned next to the cab of the R.A. Someone was
counting…
"On three, people, and make it smooth," Durfee called out, "1…2…3-"
Kathleen held her breath as Bell’s weight was shifted towards her. Wick
scrambled across the seat, holding onto Bell, grimacing as he saw the blood
pouring from the leg wound. "Okay, okay, here we go…right on the
backboard…careful of the oxygen…keep that I.V. up…"
It was done in seconds. Kathleen spun on her heel, turning away from the
wrecked R.A., and took Bell’s hand. Most of the ’77 seemed to have a grip on
the backboard, lifting it onto the stretcher, and they ran with it the few
steps over to the waiting ambulance.
"Down, and up!" someone grunted, and the stretcher was lifted, rolled into
the back. Kathleen stepped inside, hands on her back helping her up. She slid
across the warm leather of the medic’s bench, stopping near Bell’s head. Wick
and one of the medics from the 29, Mario, climbed in after her. The I.V. bag
was hung up, and the doors slammed shut. Kathleen could hear people shouting
words of support outside as the vehicle lurched forward with sirens wailing.
"BP’s still too low…"
"Start another line, and let’s intubate…"
"Okay, City Base, this is 29, we’re coming in with male trauma victim, 26
years old, multiple head and chest injuries, possible collapsed lung, BP is
70 over…" Kathleen could hear Mario calling off Bell’s vitals to the team at
the hospital.
Kathleen carefully started another line of saline, hoping the fluids would
stabilize the blood volume. She looked over as Mario began to intubate.
"Compound fracture of the left femur, possible arterial nick, approximately 4
pints blood loss at the scene, bleeding is still heavy…"
"Ryan, take this…" Wick handed her a large needle. Epinephren, used to
stimulate the heart. She looked across to Wick.
"Victim is unconscious, though responsive to pain, beginning intubation…"
Wick averted his eyes and pulled his stethoscope back to his ears. "We might
need it." He concentrated for a moment. "Heartrate’s droppin’ – you almost
there, man?" Wick glanced at Mario.
"Hang on…"
Wick shook his head. "C’mon, hurry up and bag him!" he said, his tone harsh
and worried.
"What’s goin’ on back there?" Durfee called through the window.
"Got it!" Mario called out. "City base, victim is intubated and we have
started second line of saline. Heartrate and BP are still dropping, please
advise."
Wick tapped his foot on the floor of the ambulance. "Tell them we need 5cc’s
of epi…do it, Ryan!"
"City base, request 5cc’s epi push…"
"Damn…"
"What’s happening?"
"Epi’s in!"
"We’re losing him!"
"Begin CPR!"
"Step on it up there!"
"Hang on!"
"BP still dropping, City Base, we have begun CPR…"
"1..2..3…breathe…1..2..3…breathe…1…2…3…breathe…"
"Victim is unresponsive, City Base…"
"C’mon, Bell…"
"Please, Michael…"
****
The ambulance began to slow, and Kathleen braced herself for the stop in the
ambulance bay. The doors were flung open, and Wick moved to jump out.
Kathleen helped to push the stretcher out, and then jumped out alongside. Out
of the corner of her eye, she could see Durfee running to keep up as they
pushed the stretcher through the automatic doors and into the E.R. A crowd of
doctors and nurses descended upon them, taking hold of the stretcher and
guiding it down the short hall.
"Vitals?"
"In here…c’mon, Trauma 1…"
"Careful, careful…"
"Okay, hook him up and let’s start transfusing…"
"Get head and chest X-rays…"
"Heartrate’s still dropping…"
"Another 5cc’s of epi…"
"Okay, okay…BP’s…"
Someone was pulling her out of the room.
"Ryan, c’mon, let’s get outta their way…c’mon, over here." Kathleen let
Durfee lead her out through the doors of the trauma room, away from Michael.
It happened so fast…her knees felt like they were just going to fold…
"Whoa, let’s sit down." Durfee grabbed her arm and sat her down on a hard
plastic couch.
"I’m fine." Kathleen said, automatically.
"Like hell you are…" Durfee responded, sitting down next to her. She looked
awful. "Give me your hands…" he said softly.
"What?" Kathleen looked at him, confused.
Durfee gently took her hand and began removing the surgical gloves. Kathleen
looked down…all she could see was red…
"Oh, god…"
Durfee removed the glove from her other hand and took both her hands in his
own, holding them tightly while Kathleen struggled to catch her breath. He
looked around for Wick. Durfee spotted him standing still near a disposal
container. "Wick-"
The doors to the trauma room crashed open as the medical team raced the
stretcher to a waiting elevator. One of the doctors turned around and began
to walk to them. Durfee recognized him…he was the one who Wick always managed
to tick off.
"We’re taking him up to surgery."
Durfee nodded. Ryan was squeezing his hand so hard. "Well…" he looked
pointedly at the doctor.
The younger man nodded. "Critical condition. Massive blood loss. Right lung
was collapsed, we put in a chest tube, but there’s still bleeding, so one of
his ribs must have pierced it. Looks like his spleen is ruptured, kidneys and
liver are damaged, don’t know the extent…they’ll have to set the femur up
there, too, and repair that artery." He paused. "His head looked okay,
though, didn’t see any fractures on his skull, so that’s…good."
Durfee and Ryan continued to stare at him. He shook his head. "Can’t give you
the odds…we’ll do our best…" he said quietly.
Durfee nodded, his eyes drifting away. He’d seen men and women die…even lost
two under his command before…never made it any easier each time one of his
own was on the stretcher. And Bell…Bell was a good man…and he was so young.
Durfee jumped as the crash doors were flung open and a crowd of firefighters
and paramedics rushed in, their heavy boots pounding of the floor. Ryan
released his hand and stood up. "I’ve gotta…I’m gonna go get cleaned up…" She
looked down at the front of her blue jumpsuit…it was dark with sweat and… she
swallowed hard. "I want to change…"
Durfee looked at her and stood up. "Go on…we’ll be right here." She nodded
and walked off into the hallway.
"Captain?"
"How is he?"
"Is Bell okay?"
"What’s going on?"
A thousand questions were shouted into his ears, and Durfee fought to keep
his hands from reaching up and covering them. He swallowed and raised his
hands. "All right, all right…settle down…" The questions were reduced to soft
murmurs and worried expressions, "This is what’s happening…"silence…"they
took him up to surgery…"
Wick closed his eyes, feeling the adrenaline begin to drain away. Any other
victim, and he, Ryan, and Bell would doing the paperwork, or on their way to
the cafeteria, or heading back to the station. But it wasn’t any other
victim. This time it was one of them…this time, it was Bell.
Opening his eyes, Wick watched the crowd of firefighters listening to Durfee.
Wick shook his head, not wanting to hear Bell’s injuries listed again. Too
many internal injuries, too much blood loss, too much damage. Wick clenched
his jaw, not letting himself even think that Bell could…he’ll be okay, he’ll
be okay, Wick repeated silently, wishing he could believe himself.
***
Ryan stumbled into the restroom, pulling at her uniform. She had grabbed a
pair of scrubs walking down the hall, and she laid them over a sink,
struggling to catch her breath. Any minute, any minute, now, and she was
going to burst open, she knew it. She looked at herself in the mirror…there
was blood all over the front of the uniform from when she had pushed Michael
away from the steering wheel, blood all over her sleeves from when she had
fought to control the bleeding of his leg…there was blood everywhere…oh god,
she couldn’t breathe…
With a loud sob, she staggered into a stall and sank to her knees, leaning
over the toilet as she cried…harder than she ever had before. Even with the
tears streaming down her face, she couldn’t hear the sound of her own choked
weeping. Her mouth moved, forming words she couldn’t understand, and she
rocked back and forth, her hands reaching up to cover her face.
Ryan could hear the stall door creak open, but she didn’t care…she didn’t
care if anyone saw, what anyone thought…she couldn’t hold this in…Michael
couldn’t die…he couldn’t leave her like this…he couldn’t leave her…
"Ssshhh, Ryan, it’s okay, it’s okay," Someone slid onto the floor next to
her, wrapping her in small arms and holding her close. "It’s okay, ssshhh…"
It was Carla, Ryan realized at some point, letting herself sink into the warm
embrace. And Ryan sobbed harder, her tears soaking the front of Carla’s
uniform, mingling with the blood that she knew was there, too.
