Powerless

by Marty P.

Johnny Gage jostled the biophone and spoke into the receiver again.  “Rampart, this is Rescue 51, come in please.”  Nothing.  He gazed at the topography.  He and Roy DeSoto weren’t in a valley, and he couldn’t find a reason for the technology failing. A sinking feeling came over him.  Ever since the word came from administration, he’d anticipated  this.

“Johnny, is something wrong?”  Roy inquired as he released the air from the BP cuff.

~*~*~*

Squad 51, man injured   Rogers Acres near Essex Highway and Weldon Road.  Time out  0802. 

The squad parked at the opening to a large field.  They plucked their gear from the compartments and darted toward the farm equipment.  “Me and Floyd was stuffing corn stocks in the pickup machine.”  The farmer informed them as he doffed his John Deere cap and swiped his brow with his plaid sleeve. 

“It scoops the stocks up and then shoots them into the baler, right?”  Johnny stooped beside Floyd to get a pulse on his left arm.  His right arm wasn’t visible.

“It wasn’t working right and Floyd here stuck his hand in to fix it.  He forgot to shut off the darn thing.”  The grower paled at his employee’s predicament.

Roy cleared his throat, “What’s your name, sir?”

“Dwayne, Dwayne Rogers.  He gonna be all right?”  The overseer’s head rotated toward his friend.

Johnny exuded confidence, “We’ll do everything we can.”  His eye contact with his paramedic partner expressed his concern.

Roy remained calm, “Dwayne do you have a repair book for this?”

“Yeah, it’s in the barn.  I’ll go fetch it.”  He shuffled off, his girth slowing his speed.

When the farmer was out of earshot, Roy and Johnny conferred.  “His pulse is 120.  I think we can use hand tools to get this thing apart but it’s gonna take time.  I couldn’t tell how badly he’s injured.”

“I’ll get the rest of his vitals.”  Roy snatched the BP cuff and stethoscope while Johnny set up the biocom. 

After several fruitless attempts to communicate with the hospital, Johnny jerked the handie talkie off Roy’s belt but it was lifeless as well.  He drew his partner away from the hired hand. “Roy!” he hissed.  “The biocom’s dead and the handie talkie’s not working either.  I’m gonna hafta use the radio on the squad.”  Johnny’s brow furrowed.  “Roy, we need more manpower.  I’ll request an engine.”

“With a BP of 70/48, we need to get fluids into him right away.”  Roy’s face was grim. 

Both men wavered, “I say start an IV wide open and we’ll explain the situation to Brackett later.  Otherwise…” Roy’s voice trailed off.   Johnny squinted at the late September sun and sprinted to the rescue vehicle. It hadn’t seemed that far away when they’d first arrived.  Johnny squelched his frustration.  He’d deal with it later.

~*~*~*

It was June 15th when the bomb fell on the fire department.  Captain Stanley didn’t mince any words when he apprised his team.  “As you know, all of us have been affected by the gas shortage.”

“Yeah, I had to wait in line for…” Chet stopped abruptly when he comprehended his superior’s face, “Sorry.”

“As I was saying, this unexpected occurrence has put the fire department budget into a tailspin.”  He paused and gritted his teeth.  “There will be no layoffs.”  His crew expelled their breaths in unison.  “However, the following belt tightening measures are in effect:  fewer drills, communication by telephone as much as possible and battery rationing.”

“What was that, Cap?”  Mike Stoker did a double take.

The captain skimmed the memo on his clipboard.  “I said battery rationing.  It seems someone in the County office will determine how many batteries we need.”

“What moron came up with that notion?”  Johnny blurted out.

 Roy’s perspective was, “Probably a pencil pusher accountant who…”

 “Never visited a fire station and has no understanding of what…”   Chet chimed in.

“Enough!”  Hank Stanley bellowed.  “Chief Houts is well aware of the problem and his staff is working on it.”

~*~*~*

That was three and a half months ago and the issue was still pending.  They hadn’t seen the effects immediately since Supply had batteries on hand.  But as they couldn’t restock, it had filtered down to the frontline workers.  

~*~*~*

Johnny reached the truck and keyed the mic.  “This is Squad 51.  We need an engine at our location.  Set up a patch with Rampart General Hospital “

It didn’t take long for the treatment center to respond.  “Go ahead, 51.”

“We have a 30 year old male, arm stuck in a pickup machine.  Injuries are not visible.  Vitals are pulse 120, respirations are 28 and BP is 70/48.”

“Start an IV with Ringers Lactate wide open.  Place him on six liters of oxygen. How long will it take to free him?”  Dr. Brackett glanced at Dixie taking notes.

“Unable to ascertain at this time.”

“Give another set of vitals in 15 minutes.  If they don’t improve I will come to your location in case we need to amputate.”

“10-4, Rampart.”  Johnny made a note of the orders, let dispatch know they might need further assistance and raced back toward Roy.   It took five minutes to cover the distance to his partner’s side.  “How’s he doing?”

“I started the IV; BP’s at 96/62 now.”  Roy told him without remorse.

“Ringers?”  Seeing Roy’s nod, Johnny continued.  “The hospital authorized it.”  He started the oxygen flow, “Floyd, we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

The victim grunted and moaned but didn’t give any other response.

“How soon you think the engine will get here?”  Roy’s question was answered when they heard a siren‘s faint wail.  Mike Stoker drew as close to the scene as he could and Captain Stanley loped toward the paramedics.  “Whatcha got?”

“His arm’s in this piece of machinery.  Can’t tell the extent of his injuries, Cap.”  Roy and the captain circled the farm implement.

Hank Stanley assessed the situation.  “Better get blocks to support it.  Anybody know how this thing works?”

“The owner was gonna bring us a manual.”  Johnny imparted as they espied him jogging toward them.  Johnny noted the time, “we need a new set of vitals.”  He got the BP while Roy got the others.  “Cap, is your HT working?”

“I think so.”  He tested it. 

Johnny held his hand out for it, “I need to use it to have Mike to relay info to the hospital.”   Johnny reported, “New vitals on our victim are:  BP:  86/66, pulse 108 and respirations 24.”

“Keep monitoring vitals.”  Dr. Brackett asked the inevitable.  “How soon you think he’ll be free?”

“Can’t tell at this time.”  Johnny replied.  He returned the HT to the captain.

“What’s wrong with yours?” 

“Dead batteries.”  Johnny communicated, joining the others conferring on rescue techniques.

Captain Stanley began issuing orders.  “Kelly, get our tool box.  Lopez, make darn sure this won’t fire up while we’re working on it.”  He pointed to several diagrams.  “Okay, this has tines that yank the item up into the shoot.  Should we remove them from him?”

“No,” Roy countered, “They may be keeping him from bleeding.  Let the hospital take care of them.”  Roy saw Chet seeking a standard screwdriver.  “Cap, could you request a copter?”

“Floyd, hold on.”  Johnny was watching the man for signs of shock “We’re gonna get you out of here real soon.” 

“How’s he doing?”  Hank Stanley drew closer to the dark haired paramedic.

Johnny smiled, “He’s hanging in there.  I think Floyd and I will get to know each other.”  He discretely took another pulse.  “Are you married, Floyd?”

“Yup, Darcy’s the love of my life.  I’ve got two kids:  Sadie and Joey.”

The others prepared a plan of action while Johnny kept the laborer talking.  His vitals remained stable.  After almost an hour of tinkering with the contraption they were finally able to free his arm.  They swept him into a Stokes basket and bustled over to a helicopter waiting nearby.  The paramedics boarded and sped to Rampart.

“Exam Room 5,” Dixie McCall barked when the gurney entered the Emergency Room.  Floyd was surrounded by caregivers examining him. 

Dr. Brackett rapid fired directives.   “Someone draw blood.    Dixie, get a surgeon stat!  I want x-rays now!”

The room cleared when the portable x-ray entered.   Johnny and the doctor were the last to leave, “Is he gonna be okay, Doc?

“Looks like he has several fractures, puncture wounds, and an artery’s been nicked.  You got him here in good condition, considering.  It’ll take time but he’ll be fine.” 

Dixie, who had vanished for a moment, maneuvered down the hall to them.  “Kel, whenever you give the go ahead OR 3 is ready.” 

“Doc, did you know Johnny and I had to make a tough decision in the field?”  Roy moved toward the wall to give space for a wheelchair to pass.

Dr. Brackett studied the two paramedics in front of him.  “What do you mean?”

“I actually started the IV before you authorized it.”  Roy confessed. 

Johnny was somber.  “We were delayed contacting you because the biocom wasn’t functioning and the handie talkie wouldn’t work either.”

“What caused that?”  The doctor’s face grew stern.

“The fire department made some budget changes since they’re spending more on gas.”  Johnny’s right hand tightened into a fist and then he released it.  “And now batteries are getting hard to come by.”

“Have you had problems other times?”

“We’ve been able to eke along by recharging the batteries on the biophone but C-shift had so many runs yesterday it didn’t happen.”  Roy’s foot nudged the orange box sitting near him.

“We were gonna buy batteries for the handie talkie today after roll call but we got called out right away.”  Johnny explained.

“You mean you were gonna use your own money to get them?”  Dr. Brackett confirmed..

“Yeah, if that’s the only way we can keep it working.”  Johnny, focused on the doctor, failed to notice a nurse grinning at him. 

“I had heard about the problem but I didn’t realize how much it would impact your work.”  Kelly Brackett froze as a name was announced over the PA system. It wasn’t his. 

“That’s the problem, Doc.”  Johnny acknowledged Paramedics Dwyer and Bellingham and picked up where he’d left off., “The people that made the decision had no clue.”

”I’ll send a letter to the County Board expressing my concerns over this action.”  The physician promised as the exam room door opened behind them.

“We’ll catch ya later, Doc.”  Johnny snagged the drug box, they replenished their supplies at the charge desk and made themselves available.

Do you know we coulda lost that guy?”  Johnny punched the dashboard.

“I’m upset too, Johnny but Dr. Brackett said he’d contact the controller’s office.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna make them sit up and take notice.”  Johnny ‘s tone was bitter.  “In the meantime, what are we gonna do?”  Suddenly, he sat up. If he’d been a cartoon character a light bulb would’ve appeared above his head.

“No, Johnny, that’s not a good plan.”  Roy sensed the remedy that visited his partner.

Johnny, undeterred, verbalized it, “What’s wrong with telling the media we have a crisis?”

“Don’t you realize it will panic the public?  If we tell them we can’t do our jobs until this is resolved they’ll lose their faith in us.”  Roy clicked the blinker as he prepared to back into the barn.

As the paramedics exited from the squad they were still discussing the matter.  “We’ve gotta do something!”  Johnny proclaimed as he entered the kitchen.

Chet leaned against the counter.  “We all know that, but what?”

“One of us could run for County Council,” Marco suggested.

Roy considered the proposition, “Joanne and I discussed this last night.  None of us have the time or money to run and there’s no guarantee we’d win.”

“Our profession has always been innovative.  We can find a solution, men.”  Captain Stanley tented his fingers and tapped them against his chin. 

“You’re right, Cap.” Mike Stoker was tidying the newspaper.  “Hey, what about this?”  He showed them the full page ad.

“Earn double on aluminum cans the entire month of October.”  Marco read aloud.

“Recycling?”  Johnny tried to picture it working.  “That’ll take forever.”

“No, not really,” Captain Stanley refuted his comment.  “There are six of us and eighteen guys work out of the station.  If all of us…”

“Cap, we were complaining about the trash in the park on our run the other day.”  Marco reminded him, warming to the possibility.

Hank Stanley nodded and a look of satisfaction crossed his face. “Yeah, good PR and raising money until they straighten out this battery situation.”

“You mean we’ll be picking up garbage?”  Chet verified as he washed his hands.

Mike was checking the locations for collections.  “We can be available while we’re picking up cans.  Do you have a better idea?”

“No, but what are we gonna do when this budget mess gets fixed?”  Chet gazed at everyone else.

Johnny lit up.  “Well, we can quit or we can use that money for our house fund!”

“I could go for that.  I knew there were other ways to pay for operations for Boot and replacing our television.”  Chet scoped out the fridge.  “Someone left a can of root beer in here.  Anybody want it?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives.  Chet presented it to the captain.  “Wanna be the first to contribute to our recycling venture?”

“Sure, I’ll pitch in.”  Hank Stanley swallowed a swig and toasted Station 51.  

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