~*~*~*~
Part 2
~*~*~*~
The paramedic continued his silent observation of the rescue
efforts. Various engine companies worked smoothly together, each and every
situation carefully guided by Chief McConnikee.
It had been several minutes since Cap had fled from his view, and though
Turning slightly to his left, Roy could clearly see the equipment Dr. Brackett
had placed before him. Everything was in order, all of the supplies ready. All
they needed was the go-ahead from the Chief. Scanning the various boxes, there
was only one that made him wince. The ‘Amputation Kit’ sat neatly in the mound
of equipment; a stark reminder of what he already knew might be necessary. What will that do to Johnny? What will his
life be like if he loses his legs? What will my life be like, if we lose him?
~*~*~*~
"Marco! Marco, Johnny! Listen. They're here. I can hear them."
Chet looked down at Johnny. "C'mon, Gage. Hang on, man. They're here." Turning to look at Marco, Chet was surprised to see that his friend was doubled over, once again trying to fight back the nausea.
"Marco, look at me, man."
Marco raised his head, groaning as his stomach turned.
"Is it Johnny?"
"No, Marco. Listen."
Marco raised his head a bit further. His nausea suddenly forgotten, Marco stumbled to his feet.
"Hey!" Pausing to let his coughing spell pass, he regained his voice. "We're here. Can you hear us? We're here."
"Wh..at sa noise?"
Chet raised Johnny a bit higher when he heard the paramedic's weak coughs begin. "We can hear them, Johnny. We can hear them. Hang on. Roy will be here soon."
"R..o..y?"
"Yes, Roy."
Marco was making his way to the source of the sound. He paused as a smile lit up his face. "Down here. We're down here. You've got us."
Within moments, the beam of a flashlight crossed his face. "Gracias. Gracias, Dios, gracias."
~*~*~*~
"Quiet. I hear something."
In an instant, all movement came to a halt.
"Down here. We're down here. You've got us."
A moment of stunned silence passed before a cheer went up.
Roy, Dixie, and Dr. Brackett ran toward the crowd of cheering firemen. Each offered a silent prayer of thanks. They arrived just as a flashlight was passed to one of the firemen in the hole.
"I see him."
Cap moved in next to the fireman with the flashlight.
"Marco! Thank God, Pal."
"Cap, they need help." Not paying attention to where he was moving as he looked up to his rescuers, Marco bumped his shoulder. He fell into a scream-filled bout of vomiting. Within minutes, Marco found himself lifted through the ruins and onto solid ground.
"You've got to help them. Don't worry about me."
Chief McConnikee stepped up. "We're going to worry about all of you, son. Tim and Larry, help Marco. Hank and Roy, go ahead in."
Dr. Brackett moved toward the opening. "Not you, Doc, not yet."
Brackett opened his mouth to argue with the chief but a single raised hand stopped him before he spoke. Turning towards Dixie, Brackett almost whispered. "We don't have time to wait."
A reassuring squeeze of the arm was all Dixie could offer the frustrated doctor.
Getting the general location of Chet and Johnny from Marco, Hank Stanley and Roy DeSoto made their way down into the wreckage.
"Chet? Johnny?"
"Over here, Cap. Hurry."
Cap and Roy quickly made their way toward the voices. Neither man was prepared for the sight before them as their friends came into view.
The two men were brought out of their daze by a gasp from behind them.
Questioning eyes turned to look at Mike.
Sensing Cap and Roy looking at him, he offered an explanation. "Chief figured another person would be needed to help Chet. Marco said it was bad. But, dear God." While he talked, his eyes never left the horrible sight of the injured men - his friends - a few feet away.
~*~*~*~
Marco never took his eyes off the area from where he had
been pulled out. Even while he was being helped over to where he would receive
medical treatment, the fireman would glance over his shoulder, ignoring any
pain the movement caused. He wanted to see another of his injured comrades
brought up out of the hellish place they’d been trapped. Marco doubted Johnny
would be the next up, but Chet should before long.
As the other paramedics at the scene started to help Marco to the ground on a
yellow blanket near their squad, Kel Brackett and Dixie came over to help
assess the injuries he had suffered. The Hispanic man didn’t care who was doing
what. Keeping his attention on the hole, he was soon rewarded when he saw Chet
being lifted up out, Mike right behind him. Lopez closed his eyes a moment giving
a brief prayer for the third injured man still below.
~*~*~*~
“Okay, lean on me,” Mike said as he stepped up beside Chet.
The stocky fireman complied. Mike had helped him below in the same manner,
taking it very slow until they had made it to the hole. It had taken a firm
order by Captain Stanley to get Chet to relinquish his position of holding Gage
up. But Kelly knew no amount of protesting would win him his case. And he
admitted to himself that his strength was fading. . .Johnny needed healthy men
helping him.
As Stoker and Kelly hobbled towards the paramedics, another fireman came to
their aide, as did Brackett. The four men made their way over to the squad
where Chet was carefully placed on the ground beside Marco.
Chet and Lopez exchanged a glance after each looked over where the other
firemen still stood waiting for another injured man to emerge. What was going
to happen with Gage? Neither man from 51 wanted to voice their fears.
~*~*~*~
Hank felt the sweat trickle down the side of his face as he
held Gage up. He glanced around at the wreckage surrounding them. It was a
miracle his men were still alive at all. The captain returned his attention to
Johnny and Roy, who was still checking his partner over.
“R. . .ro. . .oy.” Johnny panted from the exertion talking caused.
“It’s okay, Johnny. We’ll get you out of here soon.” When he didn’t hear a
reply, Roy looked at his partner’s face. Gage was unconscious. “Cap, we’ve
gotta get ‘im out of here now.”
“How’s it look for his legs?”
DeSoto forced himself to look directly in the captain’s eyes. Maybe it was for
hope in finding support, or that it was a spot to focus to draw himself away
from looking at Johnny as he said what he knew he had to. “We’re. . .we’re
gonna need Brackett.”
Hank nodded, his stomach tightening at the thought of what was coming. He
pulled the HT out of his turnout pocket with his free hand. No way to put off
the inevitable, Captain Stanley pressed the mic button.
~*~*~*~
Kelly Brackett wore an extra Station 51 helmet that Mike
Stoker had pulled from a side compartment on the engine, along with the turnout
coat and gloves Chief McConnikee had taken off and handed to him. Brackett had
his stethoscope in one deep pocket of the coat, and a b/p cuff in the other
one. For the time being, he left the remainder of the equipment topside with
Dixie. It would be easier to have some of the men lower him what he needed
using ropes, than it would be to carry the cumbersome medical boxes down with
him.
Dixie hadn’t been happy about being left behind, but before Brackett had to
argue the point with her, the Chief had stepped in.
“This situation is precarious at best, Miss McCall. The more people moving
around down there, the more chance of a cave-in, or the more chance of someone
else getting hurt. I don’t want that someone else to be you.”
Brackett could tell Dixie wanted to let McConnikee know she wasn’t a helpless
female who needed anyone to take care of her, but out of respect for the man’s
position within the fire department, and respect for the fact that this
disaster scene was his territory and not hers, Dixie kept quiet.
“I’ll let you know if I need you,” the doctor had pacified right before he
trotted toward the rubble. In reality, he probably wouldn’t need Dixie’s
assistance. Anything he might have to do for Johnny…including amputation, Roy
could help with.
Brackett eased himself down into the rubble, attempting to follow the same path
down that Marco, Chet, and Mike had taken up. He was grateful for the thick
coat and gloves, while silently cursing the slick soles of his black dress
shoes. A sturdy pair of firefighter’s boots, or even a pair of tennis shoes,
would be welcome now.
The doctor was cautious regarding what he grabbed onto as he shimmied downward.
He didn’t want to risk unsettling any debris. The backs of his navy dress
slacks were soon coated with soot and ash. All he could see below him was piles
of dirt, plasterboard, and wooden beams. If he didn’t know better, he’d say
that no one could possibly be alive under all this wreckage.
“Hank!” Brackett called, as he turned sideways and slid a few feet. “Roy!
Hank!”
A flashlight beam shone through a hole the doctor hadn’t even seen. “Right
here, Doc!” Hank Stanley hailed.
Brackett felt like he was a character in Alice In Wonderland as he sidled
through the opening. He felt someone’s hands at his waist as Hank Stanley
helped him find solid footing amongst the mess. As soon as Brackett had arrived
at his destination, he heard the equipment start again, and knew the firemen
had returned to work clearing away debris.
Brackett took his gloves off and stuffed them in his pockets. He pulled out his
stethoscope and b/p cuff, handing the latter to Roy.
“Let’s get a set of vitals, Roy,” the man ordered. “Hank, keep your flashlight
beam on Johnny for me. If I need you to move it, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, Doc.”
It didn’t take the physician long to discover that Johnny was in the exact
condition he was expecting. His respirations were harsh and shallow, and his
lungs congested from the dust. His pulse was thready and his b/p low.
When the doctor had concluded his examination, he looked at Hank from his
crouched position by Johnny’s right side. “We need to get him out of here.”
“We will. They’re working again above us.”
“No, I mean we need to get him out of here now.”
“Soon,” the captain said, not wanting to think of what “now” meant when spoken
like that by the doctor. “It will be soon.”
“If soon isn’t in the next twenty minutes, then soon isn’t good enough.”
Brackett pointed to Hank’s Handie-Talkie. “In the meantime, have them send down
a drug box. We’re going to start a couple of IV’s in an effort to give Johnny
what help we can. And have Chief McConnikee call for a medivac-chopper, too.
We’re not wasting time transporting Johnny by ambulance.”
“All right,” Hank agreed, as he did what the doctor instructed.
The paramedics above had been standing ready with Dixie to accept any orders
Brackett relayed to them. Because of that preparedness, no time was wasted in
lowering the drug box to the doctor and Roy. Hank once again held the
flashlight so Roy and Brackett could see what they were doing as IV’s of
Ringers Lactate were started in each of Johnny’s arms. Whether it was the movement
around him, or the prick of the needles that caused Johnny to stir and surface
to a foggy consciousness, no one knew for certain.
The injured paramedic licked his dry lips and swallowed with enough effort that
Roy knew his throat was parched, which was to be expected.
Brackett placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Johnny?”
The paramedic blinked several times, but didn’t open his eyes until the doctor
had summoned him twice more.
“R…Roy?”
“Roy’s here,” Kelly assured, “and so is Captain Stanley.”
Johnny’s eyes drifted from one face to another. It was getting more and more
difficult to remember what had happened and where he was, but for some reason
he wasn’t surprised to see his partner and captain bending over them. Both men
were doing their best to smile, and even his dazed state Johnny recognized the
smiles were forced.
“We’ll have you out soon, John,” Hank promised.
“Hang in there, partner,” Roy said, “it’ll be over soon.”
Johnny gave his head a slight nod. Though this situation was far from ideal, he
now had the three men with him that he trusted without question. Feeling safe
for the first time since this nightmare had begun, Johnny allowed
semi-consciousness to claim him. While Johnny drifted toward oblivion, the men
he had so much faith in wondered how they’d tell him that Kelly Brackett might
have to amputate his legs in order for them to free him.
~*~*~*~
Dixie paced back and forth as she waited for more news from
the rescue team. It had been almost ten minutes since they’d lowered the drug
box into the hole, and if she knew Kelly Brackett, that was ten minutes too
long.
From what little information they’d received, it was obvious that Johnny was in
very serious condition, and the anxiety level of the firemen on the scene, had
risen dramatically. However, the men’s increased efforts to remove the debris
still seemed agonizingly slow to Nurse McCall. She knew they had to be careful,
deliberate in their actions to keep the accident scene safe for the others
still below. Yet she longed to race forward and show them how quickly they
could reach their injured comrade if they’d just hurry things up a bit. Her
sigh, inaudible to anyone else, seemed deafening to her ears.
Once more, Dixie turned on her heels and began the familiar walk back towards
the squad. Twenty paces. Twenty paces between the bumper of the squad and the
front grill of Engine 51. How many times had she made the trip so far? Dixie
shuddered to even think of what that precious time seemed like to the young man
far below them.
As she continued her nervous journey, the seasoned nurse suddenly found herself
comparing her reactions to the young paramedic who was trapped in the basement
underneath her. Johnny was always the one with the nervous energy; unable to
hold still or remain calm, especially when someone was hurt or in danger.
Shaking her head absently, Dixie realized it was somewhat strange that she was,
even now, acting like her young friend. In that moment, she found herself
wishing that Johnny were here to walk alongside her.
Movement from the edge of the narrow hole caused Dixie to stop and stare. The
men closest to the edge had halted their efforts as the Chief answered the call
on his HT. When he turned towards the squad, she knew instantly what the
request had been. Kel was asking for the kit, that dreaded box, the one she was
loathe to bring along. The men below had decided it was time to use it. Dixie
fought her feeling of panic as she watched one of the paramedics move over to
retrieve the equipment, and she continued to stare as he slowly lowered it into
the opening.
As long as she’d been a nurse, as experienced as she was, Dixie couldn’t get
past the pictures in her mind. First there was Johnny, hurrying down the
hallway at Rampart, a huge smile on his face as the young man hurried after yet
another nurse. The next picture was of a sullen Johnny, confined to a
wheelchair, a blanket covering the area where his legs used to be. Long after
the box was out of sight, Dixie remained, as if frozen, in the same spot. But
the scene before her was no longer clear. Now all she could see was the wall of
tears that filled her eyes.
~*~*~*~
Kel unhooked the amputation kit from the rope and moved it
to his side. The last thing he wanted to do was make this decision, but he’d
already waited longer than he wanted to. Johnny needed to be in a hospital;
might not make it even now. The paramedic’s breathing was weak, and his BP was
dangerously low, even with the IV’s. Although the firemen were working
frantically to clear the debris, it seemed to make no difference. Johnny’s legs
were still firmly entrapped in the rubble.
“Doc?”
“Roy, we have to get him out of here. He doesn’t stand much of a chance if we
don’t get him to a hospital, now!”
The answering nod from the senior paramedic was barely discernible, and Kel
steeled his heart against the pain he could read in Roy’s eyes. Hank was fully
aware of the conversation beside him, but the captain was still busy evaluating
every possible avenue of rescue for his youngest crewmember.
Only Johnny had remained completely silent, and Kel found himself grateful for
the man’s oblivious state. However, when he reached down to check the IV, he
was surprised to see a pair of brown eyes watching him intently. Though Johnny
was by no means, fully conscious, the young man was obviously awake and in a
great deal of pain.
“Johnny, can you hear me?”
The dark eyes followed him as Kel moved closer to check his patient’s
breathing. The sound of Roy’s voice caught Johnny’s attention, and the pain-filled
eyes moved back to watch his partner. But still there was no sound from the
injured man, other than the ragged breathing. Roy grasped Johnny’s hand as he
spoke softly to his partner.
“Hang on, Junior. We’re gonna get you out of here. You’ve just gotta hang on,
okay?”
Still no answer, yet the brown eyes moved back and forth, seeming to watch the
men intently. Finally, they settled on a spot behind Brackett, and the men
strained to hear Johnny’s weak question.
“You gonna have to use that?”
~*~*~*~
Dixie dropped to her knees. At first, the men around her
thought she was simply peering into the hole below. It was only after one man
noticed her closed eyes and bowed his own head that everyone realized the nurse
was praying. A ripple effect took place. Within seconds, several dozen people
were in silent prayer.
It was the silence that made the sound from below so startling.
"What the hell?" Dixie fell forward onto her hands. Her eyes shot
open. Sorry, God. That's not exactly the
way to end a prayer. Just, please, help Johnny. Help us all...please. Amen.
~*~*~*~
Cap closed his eyes and blew out a long breath before
turning towards the 3 men. He silently approached Roy and Brackett.
Johnny looked up into the sad eyes of his rescuers. Of his friends. The silence
was more suffocating than any amount of smoke or dust. After looking at each of
the men individually, Johnny closed his eyes.
"Do it." Johnny barked out the words in a rough voice. Much to
everyone's surprise, his voice carried a strength that no one thought possible.
"Just do it." Johnny's voice was reduced to a whisper once again. He
opened his closed eyes to see his 3 friends still standing where they had been
before he closed his eyes.
"It's...okay..."
"No. No, it's not, Johnny. But, I have no choice." Kel's voice
carried an apologetic tone. He knelt beside John and squeezed the young man's
shoulder. "If there was something...anything...else I could do..."
Johnny's eyes conveyed an understanding to Kelly Brackett that brought the
doctor a level of peace. He squeezed the paramedic's shoulder again. "I'm
sorry, Johnny. I'm so sorry." After another pause, Brackett looked up at
Roy and Cap.
As the doctor moved away from Johnny and toward the amputation kit, Roy and Cap
moved next to their friend.
Looking up at Cap and Roy kneeling beside him, a weak smile crossed Johnny's
lips. "Thank you." The soft words cut into the hearts of Cap and Roy.
A few feet away, Dr. Brackett faltered for a moment.
"John. Pal." Cap didn't know what to say. What do you say to a man - barely more than a boy - who has walked his
last step?
Roy's eyes traveled from his shaken captain to his injured friend. His best
friend. "Junior. We're here. We'll be here. Always. I..." Roy's head
was spinning.
" 'S okay."
Brackett put his hand on Roy's shoulder. Everyone's focus switched from Johnny
to the doctor. Brackett stood over the men, a syringe in hand. "Johnny.
I'm going to give you a shot. You'll fall asleep quickly. We'll have you out of
here soon."
Dr. Brackett, Roy, and Captain Stanley all watched as Johnny quickly drifted
off to sleep.
"Okay, men, let's tie off his legs."
The loud noise caught everyone off guard.
~*~*~*~
Up above, Dixie looked around, stunned when she realized
what was going on. The firemen standing at the scene knew, as well, and
everyone scattered from the rubble while yet another aftershock from the
earthquake shook the ground.
Oh my God. . .Kel. . .Johnny . . .what if? The nurse tried to shove away the
thought of what could happen if Brackett had started the amputation process
when the tremor hit. The other fear she couldn’t shake was the possibility
there would now be four men trapped in the debris below.
What seemed like minutes was actually only seconds. Dixie sighed when the after
shock stopped and all was silent. She watched as another captain on the scene
radioed to the men down below.
“HT 51, Engine 14”
There was no answer.
“Captain Stanley, do you copy?”
A sigh of relief carried through the crowd when a reply came a few seconds
later.
“Yes, I copy. We’re okay. Have a few men standing by to help lift Gage out of
the hole.”
The relief was replaced by numbness as Dixie and the others realized this would
be it. . .a legless Gage would be brought up from the depths below. The nurse
walked over and sat on the back of the squad. She wasn’t sure she was going to
be able to stomach what came next.
~*~*~*~
When the tremor hit, Johnny’s three rescuers looked around
in shock. They knew more aftershocks were possible, but with being involved in
the task at hand, none of them had been prepared. Roy threw himself over his
unaware partner, while Brackett and Stanley ducked in reflex. Not that there
was anywhere to avoid the onslaught of debris if any fell, but there was no
time to reason. When the tremor had passed, the men were covered in plaster
dust and dirt. . .some of the debris had shifted. Hank moved a wooden beam that
had fallen against him away, as Kel brushed off some of the dirt. Roy pulled up
from Johnny’s supine figure, and noticed the beams that were on his legs had
shifted slightly. He looked at the others. He could tell by the stunned
expressions, they noticed, too. The beams on Johnny's legs no longer appeared
to be held in place by the large amount of tangled debris. 90% of the debris
they had unsuccessfully struggled to remove had been toppled out of the way.
“It’s gotta be a miracle,” Hank said, as he shifted position. The radio
squawked when the chief called down to see how the men were, but Stanley
ignored it, his full attention on Gage. A second time, he quickly reported them
as being okay as he listened to Kel nearby.
“Let’s try to get him out of here before another aftershock hits,” Brackett
said, placing a hand on Johnny’s legs. “Roy, get a tourniquet on that leg - we
can't risk a sudden rush..." Not wanting to finish the horrible thought,
Brackett threw Roy a rubber strap while positioning himself over Johnny's other
thigh. In a split second, both of Johnny's legs were tied off in order to stop
the back flow of blood and simulate the pressure they had just been under. He
eyed the remaining debris holding the beams across Johnny's legs. "We’ve
gotta get him out of here. . .NOW!" Under his breath, the "before he
bleeds to death" did not go unheard by Cap or Roy.
The senior paramedic nodded, and added a prayer as he moved to Johnny's head.
Roy placed his arms underneath Gage’s - ready to pull him out - as Cap and
Brackett made quick work of freeing Johnny's legs the rest of the way.
Johnny moved his head slightly and groaned. He wasn’t sure what was going on
around him, but the sudden weight off his legs caused him to go numb, thus
feeling like there was nothing left below his waist.
~*~*~*~
The silence was the first thing Dixie took note of. The
diesel engines ceased, and the men operating the bulldozer and front-end
loaders waited in their seats for orders to continue their work. Like any
silence that comes after the constant rumbling of heavy equipment, it was at
first odd, and then welcome. It was amazing what a person could get used to,
Dixie thought, while at the same time wondering if Johnny would get used to
living as a double amputee. The nurse had known patients who had faced such a
tragedy and overcome it, as a result of a strong will and a positive attitude.
But then she’d also known patients who had wallowed in self-pity, and never
fully come to terms with the hand life had dealt them. Dixie had always thought
of Johnny as a positive person, and as someone who looked upon his glass as
being half full, rather than half empty, but who could really predict how
something like this would change him. He might conquer his new life as an
amputee, or he might fall victim to it. Only time would tell.
As with any silence, this one was brief. Within seconds, shouts filled the air
as instructions flew back and forth between the men above ground, and the men
below. Tim ran toward the squad Dixie was sitting on. She stood and stepped out
of his way. He grabbed a stokes off the back. The nurse didn’t have to ask what
it would be used for. She knew it would be lowered to Doctor Brackett and Roy,
and Johnny would then travel to the surface in it.
Dixie followed Tim. As much as she hated the thought of what she would see when
Johnny arrived topside, she also wanted to be the first face he laid eyes on.
He hadn’t been much more than a kid when she’d come to know him six years
earlier as a rescue man out of Station 8. He’d matured a lot since then, though
she supposed some people would have a hard time believing that the words
‘mature’ and ‘John Gage’ went together in the same sentence. Nonetheless, he’d
done a lot of growing up in recent years, and Dixie was proud of his
accomplishments as a paramedic. Kelly Brackett considered Johnny and Roy to be
the most skilled paramedics amongst all those he worked with, which was a huge
compliment to both men since Brackett wasn’t one to give praise often, nor toss
it out if it wasn’t deserved.
Tim and Larry had a drug box and trauma box opened at their feet. Dixie looked
up as she heard the thump of helicopter blades. As soon as the men had Johnny
freed, Chief McConnikee called in the medical evac chopper that Doctor Brackett
had requested be on standby. The chopper pilot hovered over a baseball diamond
at the park across the street. When he was certain the area was clear, he
slowly brought the helicopter to the ground.
“Randall, go fill that pilot in on what we’ve got!” Patrick McConnikee ordered
of a station captain Dixie didn’t know. “Tell him we’ll have Gage out in just a
few minutes.”
“Right, Chief!”
As the man ran toward the park, Dixie shouldered her way through the throng of
firefighters standing at the edge of the basement. One of them placed hand on
her arm.
“Careful, Miss McCall. If we have another after shock it could be dangerous to
be here.”
“It was dangerous to be in Korea, too, but I was there. Were you?”
The young man, who had been in diapers during Dixie’s service in the Korean
War, blushed at the nurse’s words. “Uh…no, ma’am.” He stepped back and allowed
her through, figuring this stubborn woman was best left for Chief McConnikee to
deal with.
Ten minutes passed before Dixie saw Roy and the stokes emerge from the debris.
The basket was slowly pulled to the surface by three firefighters. Roy climbed
over debris, keeping one hand on the basket’s right side in order to steady it.
Doctor Brackett followed behind, while Hank Stanley remained below. Hank didn’t
want too much weight on the debris for fear they’d shift it. Once Roy and
Brackett were on solid ground, then Hank would make his way up.
The stokes was laid on the ground by Dixie’s feet, while hands reached down to
hoist Roy up. The nurse bent over her patient. A yellow blanket covered Johnny
from waist to feet, but if she wasn’t seeing things, then those were the
outline of boots sticking up from under that blanket. She looked up as Doctor
Brackett knelt on the other side of her.
“Kel?”
The woman didn’t have to say any more than that for Brackett to know what she
was asking.
“No, I didn’t have to take his legs. At least not yet.” Brackett glanced up at
the men around him. “Come on, guys. Let’s get him to that chopper. Tim, Larry,
bring your equipment. Roy and I will need to make use of it. Dix, are you
riding with us?”
The nurse smiled as she grabbed one of the stokes’ handles and stood with the
men who were carrying it. “You bet I am.”
They ran across the uneven ground, across the street, and over the sand of the
baseball diamond. It wasn’t until they had Johnny loaded onto the chopper that
he opened his eyes. Just like Dixie had wanted, hers was the first face he saw.
He was groggy and weak, and barely able to communicate.
“Dix…Dix…my legs? I can’t feel…did Doc Brack…Brackett take my…”
“Shhh, Johnny,” the nurse soothed while starting another I.V. “You’re fine.
You’re fine.”
Because Doctor Brackett didn’t yet know the extent of the damage to Johnny’s
legs, Dixie was hesitant to tell the paramedic that, at this point, he still
had them. It was impossible to predict what the next few hours would bring,
therefore, she didn’t want to make false promises to the man.
Before Dixie had time to decide just what she was going to tell Johnny, his head rolled to the left. Aided by the
sedative he’d been given earlier, he fell asleep once again.
Hank emerged from the basement just as the chopper lifted off the ground.
Stepping over to his engineer, the two men stood, silently watching, as it
moved away. As the aircraft disappeared from sight, the noise level around them
rose dramatically; both men and machinery preparing to leave the now completed
rescue scene.
Mike and Hank retrieved their own tools along with the paramedic’s equipment;
each man silent at their work, minds consumed with the fate of the injured half
of their company. It took two times for McConnikee’s request to register in
Hank’s distracted brain, and the captain almost jumped when he finally realized
the chief was standing right beside him.
“Sorry, Chief. What did you say?”
“No problem, Hank. I just wanted to tell you that Station 51 would be stood
down until ‘B’ shift arrives. You and Mike take the trucks back, and then
you’re free to leave. I imagine you’ll want to get right over to the hospital?”
“Yeah . . we will. Thanks, Chief.”
A gentle slap on the back from his superior was the only answer before the man
walked away, and Hank hoped the Chief knew how much ‘A’ shift appreciated his
understanding. Neither he, nor Mike, would be in any shape to return to duty,
and it was unthinkable that Roy would make it back on this shift. No,
McConnikee had made the wisest decision, and once more Hank Stanley was
impressed with the competence of his previous captain.
After stowing the last of the gear, Mike crawled into Big Red while Hank started
the squad, then the men carefully maneuvered their vehicles away from the
scene. Cap looked in his rear-view mirror, glad to see the destruction growing
smaller behind him. He had a feeling, if the news wasn’t good about Gage, that
this call would haunt them all.
~*~*~*~
Roy loosened the BP cuff, and straightened up, all the while
watching Dr. Brackett’s face closely. The doctor was checking Johnny’s
breathing, not an easy task in a helicopter, but even with the added
distractions, it was obvious that Brackett was worried. They’d gotten Johnny in
the suit, thereby giving them a small feeling of relief. Yet Roy knew there was
still every possibility that his partner could lose his legs. It was almost
certain that Johnny had suffered a concussion, though the fact that he
recognized them, and had been talking, was a good sign. Then of course, there
was the chest injury. All three of them worried about Johnny’s lungs, and Dixie
had already voiced her surprise that he had made it so long in the basement without
the benefit of oxygen.
The flight couldn’t seem to go fast enough for Kel. He was worried about
Johnny’s vital signs; they seemed worse every time he checked. Glancing up, he
caught Dixie watching him, and he gave her a weak smile. There was no doubt
that she was aware of his concerns, but it didn’t hurt to encourage her a bit.
Unfortunately, his smile came across as more of a grimace, a fact that didn’t
surprise her in the least.
A slight movement brought their attention immediately to the injured paramedic.
Johnny’s eyes were barely open, yet he seemed to be looking for something. His
hand, with IV lines attached, raised in supplication, as if trying to grasp
someone or something. It didn’t take much for the group to realize whom he was
searching for. Leaning down, Roy was finally able to hear the whispered plea.
“Roy . . . my legs?”
Squeezing Johnny’s hand tightly, Roy raised his eyes to meet Brackett’s. He
didn’t know how to answer. Should he raise Johnny’s hope, only to have it
dashed again when they reached the hospital and had to amputate anyway? Or
should he follow Dixie’s example, and simply answer with some generalized
encouragement?
Unfortunately, Roy’s hesitation seemed answer enough for Johnny, as he assumed
the deed had already been done. His eyes slid closed, forcing the moisture
pooling there to slide down his cheek. As he slipped back into the familiar
darkness, he wondered what it would be like to never walk again.
Roy continued to hold his friend’s hand, while his own chest constricted with
fear. Even the pilot’s announcement that they were about to land at Rampart,
didn’t lessen the sense of dread that threatened to overwhelmed him.
~*~*~*~
Once they were on the ground at Rampart, Johnny was quickly taken from the
helicopter to a treatment room. Brackett, Dixie and Roy never left the injured
paramedic’s side, keeping pace with the stretcher. When Johnny was transferred
to the exam table, Roy hung both IV’s on a nearby pole, while Kel Brackett and
Joe Early began to work on the man.
Johnny’s eyes opened slightly as he looked at his new surroundings. He’d been
in the dark confines of the collapsed house for so long, it was hard for him to
process the idea of being in the brightly-lit comforts of Rampart. Still
thinking his legs were already gone, the dark-haired paramedic said nothing as
he once again closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready to face the inevitable.
~*~*~*~
Hank Stanley headed for Rampart after dropping the squad off
at the station. Mike was following behind him, having gotten the engine back as
well. They were both relieved to be free from having to finish off their shift.
Neither could do much more than think about what had taken place and the
welfare of their crew. On the way back from the call, they had seen minor damage
here and there from the quake, but for the most part, they had been in the
worst of it.
Hank glanced at his watch as he pulled into the parking lot at Rampart. He
wondered if Johnny would be in surgery yet, if it was necessary. Plenty of time
had gone by. He decided first priority would be to get an update on John, then
locate his other two injured firemen. It was a small consolation, but at least
he knew he’d have four of his crewmembers under him again.
~*~*~*~
"...legs..."
Johnny heard the word. The sound of Brackett's voice surprised him. Legs. Nothing else. Legs. No legs. Nothing.
Legs. Johnny's thoughts were barely audible in his own mind. The rushing
sound in his ears had drowned out all the conversation going on around him.
Well, almost all the conversation. Thankfully, the same rushing sound occupied
his mind and had drowned out all his own thoughts too. Well, almost all his own
thoughts. He kept his eyes closed. Legs.
~*~*~*~
"Okay, then. That's the plan." Brackett looked at
the activity going on around him. Sensing the door to the trauma room easing
open, Brackett spoke to the people in the room. "Get everything ready.
I'll be right back."
Dr. Brackett silently approached Hank Stanley. Motioning the captain back out
into the hallway, Dr. Brackett took one last look at Johnny.
"Doc?" The fear echoed in Cap's voice. Get everything ready. Ready for what?
"It's not good, Hank, but it could be a helluva lot worse. The x-rays were
all negative. Other tests show no major arterial damage. Looks like we're
dealing with pressure injuries."
"That's great!"
Brackett held his hands up. "Hank, it doesn't mean we won't have to take
his legs. It just means that we have a few more options - a few things to try
before we have to make that decision."
Hank was almost afraid to ask. "Options?"
"We are going to try a slow release of the pressure. We'll gradually
reduce the compression of the G-suit. I'm hoping that if we take this slowly
enough, the gradual increase in circulation can be tolerated by the injured
tissues."
"And if not?"
Kelly Brackett looked at his feet and kicked at an imaginary piece of paper.
"I thought so." Cap slumped against the wall.
"Hank, I'll do..."
"I know, Doc, I know."
A moment passed before Brackett looked at his watch. "I need to get back
in there."
"Yeah. And, I need to check on the other guys. Kel...thanks."
Brackett offered Stanley a worried smile before turning and heading back in to
the trauma room.
"Okay people, let's do it."
~*~*~*~
Legs. Tingling.
Phantom pain. Phantom. Pain in the ass. Pain in the legs. No legs. Johnny's
eyes remained close.
~*~*~*~
Mike Stoker remained in the waiting area while Captain Stanley entered the
treatment room that housed Marco Lopez. A few minutes later, he crossed the
hall and entered the treatment room Chet Kelly was in.
Chet was lying on the exam table dressed in a hospital gown - covered to the
waist with a sheet. His hair and moustache had a salt and pepper appearance, as
though the man had aged twenty years since Grace Anderson’s house had
collapsed. In reality, it was dust sprinkled throughout Chet’s dark curls and
bushy moustache that was giving his hair a gray cast.
Chet turned his head when he heard the door open. He clutched his ribs and rose
on his left elbow when he saw whom his visitor was. As far as Chet was
concerned, there was nothing worse than being left alone in a hospital trauma
room, tethered by an IV that limited your movements, while you waited for word
on your friends.
“Cap, how’s--”
Hank smiled slightly and placed a hand on Chet’s shoulder, urging him to lie
back down. “Chet, take it easy.”
“I’ve been takin’ it easy ever since they brought me here. That was two hours
ago, and I’m gettin’ tired of laying around.”
“Well, since I think you’re going to be here a day or two, you’d better get
used to the idea and make the best of it.”
“I suppose,” Chet agreed as he grimaced. His headache was fierce, though Doctor
Early had said Chet sustained only a minor concussion.
If this is minor, I sure as hell would
hate to feel major.
As though he’d read Chet’s mind, Hank asked, “What did Doctor Early say?”
Chet used his left hand to point toward the bandage on the left side of his
forehead. “Minor concussion. I got ten stitches out of the deal. Doc Early was
headed to look at the rest of my X-rays when he left a little while ago, but he
hasn’t been back yet. He thinks I’ve got some cracked ribs and a sprained
ankle.” Chet grimaced again as he moved his right foot beneath the sheet. “I
think I’ve got a sprained ankle, too, and as for my ribs – I feel like I’ve
been kicked by a mule.”
Hank nodded. All in all, the injuries Chet detailed were painful, but not
serious. The biggest concern for both Chet and Marco would be pneumonia and/or
breathing complications caused by the amount of dust they’d inhaled. When he’d
visited Marco, Hank had been told by Mike Morton that Chet and Marco would be
monitored closely for the next twenty-four hours, and receive respiratory
treatments during that time period.
Chet rested his throbbing head on the flat pillow a nurse had provided him
with. He looked up at his boss. “Did you get to see Marco?”
“I just came from talking to him.”
“How is he?”
“In about the same condition as you are. He’s got a concussion, fourteen
stitches in his head, he inhaled a lot of dust, and his left arm is broken.
Doctor Morton is waiting for an orthopedic surgeon to look at the X-rays. He
doesn’t think Marco will need surgery, but he wants the opinion of a specialist
before the arm is put in a cast.”
“If you get to see Marco again, tell him I said to hang in there.”
“I will,” Hank confirmed. “Mike was going to use the phone at the nurses’
station to call Marco’s mother. Who do you want us to call for you?”
“Not my mom. She’ll get too upset. Call my older brother.”
Since Chet had four older brothers, Hank chuckled and asked, “Which one?”
“Gordy. He’s the only one with an ounce of sense. He’ll know how to tell Ma
without making it sound like they’ll need to get the house ready for an Irish
wake.”
Hank took a pen and small notebook from a pocket of his turnout coat. He
scribbled down the home phone number Chet gave him for Gordon Kelly, and then
the work phone number.
“You should be able to find him one place or the other. Ever since he got
married, his wife keeps him on a short leash.”
“Okay,” Hank said. “I’ll call him right now.”
The captain kept the notebook in his hand while shoving the pen back in his
pocket. He patted Chet’s shoulder.
“You just relax, pal. The station has been stood down until B-shift can come on
duty, so Mike and I will be out in the waiting area. We’ll stick around until
they get you and Marco settled in a room.”
“Thanks, Cap.” Chet coughed, hating the taste of dust he got in his mouth each
time he did so. When the dry spasm that caused him to clutch his ribs had
passed, Chet finally asked the question he’d been avoiding. “How’s…how’s
Johnny? Did they…did Doc Brackett have to take his…did he amputate Johnny’s…”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean, not yet? Is Johnny still in that basement? Is he still--”
Hank pressed on Chet’s shoulder again. “Chet, relax. Johnny’s here. He’s in a
treatment room right down the hall.”
Chet’s eyes searched his captain’s face for clues. “And?”
“And…I don’t have much to tell you. Doctor Brackett’s still working with him.”
“His legs, Cap? You said Brackett hadn’t amputated Johnny’s legs yet. Does that
mean he’s still gonna have--”
“It means the debris shifted during an after-shock and we were able to get
Johnny out. However, Brackett doesn’t know yet whether or not the damaged
tissue in Johnny’s legs can handle blood circulation.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I don’t really know. That’s all he’s had time to tell me so far.”
“Is Roy with him? With Johnny, I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Chet said, as his exhausted body finally forced him to relax against
the hard table. “Johnny would want that.”
“I know,” Hank acknowledged.
As the captain headed for the door, Chet said, “Hey, Cap?”
Hank turned around. “Yeah?”
“As soon as you know anything about Johnny...”
Chet let his sentence trail off, but Hank didn’t need to hear the rest of it to
know what the man’s request was.
“As soon as I know something, Chet, you’ll know something.”
Chet offered the best smile he could muster considering his pain, and his worries.
“Thanks, Cap.”
As Hank Stanley left the treatment room he thought, not for the first time, of
how lucky he was to have such a tight-knit group of men under his command
~*~*~*~
Roy moved stiffly in the hard plastic chair, his gaze never
leaving the face of his injured partner. Several hours had passed since Johnny
had been brought up to the Intensive Care Unit from Emergency, and Roy realized
he was being granted special privileges in being allowed to stay with his
friend this long. But Roy hadn’t beenthe only one worried about Johnny’s frame
of mind; Dr. Brackett was also concerned that the young paramedic would wake up
thinking he was now a double amputee. The only thing they hadn’t taken into
consideration was the young man’s level of exhaustion. After the initial
procedures in the Treatment Room, there had been no additional sedation, but
Johnny remained unconscious. He was so
still that Roy would have thought…well, all he knew was that the raspy
breathing was a comfort in an odd way.
At least he knew his fried was still breathing.
Settling back into yet another uncomfortable position, Roy wondered if Cap and
Mike were still in the waiting room. He was certain that they were somewhere in
the hospital, either visiting Chet and Marco, or seated in the small waiting
area outside ICU. Both men had insisted that they would be available for Roy if
he should need them, but the senior paramedic was not about to leave his
partner now. Times like this, a man should be able to count on his best friend.
His own body tired from the long day, and mental stress, it took several
minutes for Roy to realize that he was being watched. But, he was instantly in motion as his
partner started to cough. The gut-wrenching sound was alarming, but Roy knew
that how important it was for the injured man to rid his lungs of the dust and
debris that had settled there. Grabbing an extra pillow, Roy laid it gently on
Johnny’s chest and carefully helped wrap his partner’s arms around the soft
padding. It was hard to watch the look of pain that crossed Johnny’s face,
especially as the movement jarred his broken collarbone and ribs, but Roy
helped support his friend’s shaking body as the young man managed to cough
several times. Finally, he eased Johnny back into a reclining position and
adjusted the cannula. Even with the oxygen, Johnny was having trouble
breathing, and Roy turned to motion for a nurse. It was then, that Johnny
weakly snagged his arm, causing Roy to lean back over his friend as Johnny
managed his first words.
“Hurts . . Roy.”
“Yeah, well, Brackett said you broke four ribs, besides your collarbone. That’s
why they have you all trussed up like this. But we can get you some pain
medication, if you need it.”
The voice that answered him was faltering and weak.
“No . . not ribs . . legs . . .”
It was suddenly clear what Johnny was thinking, and Roy flinched at the raw
emotion evident in his friend’s voice - surprised at himself for not realizing
immediately what Johnny’s thoughts were focused on. Dark brown eyes stared
pleadingly into Roy’s, the look of fear and confusion plain on Johnny’s face.
The moment was brief, and then he turned away, but not before Roy caught sight
of the moisture pooling in the grief filled eyes. When he spoke again, Johnny’s
voice seemed even fainter than before.
”What am I . . gonna do? I can’t be a . . paramedic, anymore.”
Roy prayed that he wasn’t giving his friend false hope, but Brackett’s
prognosis had been so positive, and the moment was now. There was no sense in
waiting any longer; it was time for Johnny to know the truth.
“Johnny, you didn’t lose your legs.”
It took several minutes for the words to sink in, but even then, Johnny
wouldn’t look past Roy. Maybe he couldn’t . . . He knew his partner would never
lie to him, yet he remembered in vivid detail, his last minutes of
consciousness in the basement. Johnny turned his head to the side and closed
his eyes, unable to meet his friend’s worried gaze any longer. He couldn’t
bring himself to hope that this could really be happening. Could he really have
been given another chance? Maybe he was dreaming, maybe his mind was just
playing tricks on him in an effort to deal with the horrible reality. . . But
when he opened his eyes again, nothing had changed. Roy continued to watch him closely,
the hint of a smile beginning to show across the older man’s face. Johnny
forced himself to utter the question. . .couldn’t bear to wait any longer.
“What d’ya mean? Brackett said . . I saw the . .”
“Yes, he was going to amputate. Everything was ready, but just before Brackett
started, the debris shifted, and we were able to get you out. Your legs are
okay, Johnny.”
With a face-splitting grin, Roy reached down and squeezed his partner’s lower
leg with one hand just as he straightened up to give Johnny a better view.
Slowly the dark-haired paramedic lifted his head until he could see the
familiar outline of his legs beneath the blankets. As if still unsure, he
reached out his own hand and placed it uncertainly on his right thigh, then
looked up at Roy.
“See? Both legs, still there . . good as new. Dr. Brackett said that the
swelling is already subsiding, and he doesn’t expect any complications.”
Johnny’s look was incredulous at best, his eyes darting back and forth between
his legs and his partner, until the pain in his head forced him to lie back
against his pillow.
“But how . .”
Fully aware that Johnny’s strength was waning, Roy quietly pulled the blankets
back across Johnny’s chest and adjusted the railing. He continued to stand
there as Johnny stared at the ceiling, waiting patiently as his partner
struggled to control his emotions and his breathing. After several minutes, Roy
leaned over the motionless figure and placed his hand on Johnny’s forearm. Only
then, did the dark head turn back towards him.
“I’ll explain everything in the morning, but right now you need to get some
sleep. You’re going to be alright, Johnny. Everything’s going to be okay. You
just need to get your strength back.”
“Thanks, Roy.”
Roy didn’t need to hear Johnny’s whispered thanks to know how grateful his
friend was, or to know how frightened the young man had been at the prospect of
living his life in a wheelchair. He squeezed the arm still resting beneath his,
grateful to see Johnny’s eyes slide closed as his partner drifted off to sleep.
The hand that grasped Roy’s shoulder a moment later startled him from his
reverie.
“Good work, Roy.”
With a smile of relief, Roy turned to see Dr. Brackett standing next to him.
Kel flipped open Johnny’s chart and jotted several notes on the paper, before
gently closing the chart.
“His vitals are improving, legs are looking good. His temp is slightly elevated
and he seems to be developing a case of pneumonia, but we’ll start him on
antibiotics right away, and that should give us a little edge. Of course, it’ll
be harder on him, what with the broken collarbone and ribs, and Johnny never
has been a willing patient . .”
“I don’t know, Doc, I think this time might be a little different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think this time he ‘knows’ he has a lot to be thankful for.”
Kel nodded in agreement as he turned to leave.
“Get some rest, Roy.”
~*~*~*~
The next thirty-six hours would be crucial for Johnny. The dark-haired paramedic began to show more signs of pneumonia in the first twelve, despite the antibiotics Brackett had prescribed for him.
Roy and Captain Stanley kept tabs on the younger man, each feeling a sense of dread and relief at the same time when told that there had been no change in his condition. On the one side, no change meant Johnny hadn’t gotten any worse, however, it also meant he wasn’t on the uphill climb yet, either.
Roy spent most of his day off calling the hospital at regular intervals. Understanding her husband’s dilemma of not wanting to desert his family for the day, but also wanting to be there for his partner, Joanne took the kids to her sister’s for the day, staying there to visit as well. With sudden freedom and no guilt, the senior paramedic was able to spend most of the day visiting the hapless Gage.
Late in the evening, Johnny finally showed a slight improvement. Roy couldn’t hold back the grin when Kel Brackett filled him in. Once again, Johnny was beating the odds in every aspect of his ordeal.
~*~*~*~
A couple of days later Marco and Chet were being released from Rampart. Mike and Roy wanted to give the men rides home, although Marco’s large family had offered. Marco agreed with his co-workers that it would be much easier for the Lopez entourage to wait at home, rather than crowd into the hallways of Rampart.
On the way down to the first floor, the firemen decided to make a stop by Johnny’s room. The paramedic was doing much better and hadn’t seen his injured shiftmates since the ordeal had happened.
As they opened the door, the friends saw Captain Stanley standing beside Gage’s bed. He and Johnny looked over at the men, grinning.
“C’mon in,” Hank said, motioning with his left hand. “I heard you two were getting sprung today.”
Roy pushed Chet’s wheel chair in, and Mike followed behind with Marco’s.
“Hey, Cap, good to see you,” Chet said, returning the smiles. Marco quickly agreed.
As the two recovering visitors were pushed closer to the bed, they both looked at the paramedic resting against the pillows.
“Hey, John,” Chet said. “Man, is it ever good to see you like this.”
“We weren’t sure you were going to make it,” Marco added.
“Neither was I, if I remember right,” Johnny said, sounding weak from his bout with the pneumonia. “But you guys did a good job. Thanks.”
“Hey, we really didn’t do anything,” Kelly said as he glanced at the others. “Just what Roy told us to do.”
“So your legs are gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, Marco, they are.” He stared at the two men, both appearing less than stellar themselves. “Brackett says everything’s lookin’ good and I shouldn’t have any problems.” He paused a moment in thought and shuddered slightly. “I hate to think of what would’ve been if that debris hadn’t of shifted.”
“The important thing is, it did,” Captain Stanley said. “I never thought I’d be so thankful for an aftershock of that size while under a collapsed house, but I gotta admit, I was.”
“Yeah, it was probably a 4.0 to move everything again,” guessed Chet.
“Or a 4.5,”
Mike rubbed his chin in thought. “I think it was a 4.8.”
The men glanced at one another as they each remembered the bantering on the same subject while they were on their way to the call that had come in about the Highland Hills house. Before the reminder of how fragile their own lives could be. Before they were in the position of playing hero for each other.
~*~*~*~
The End
~*~*~*~
