Wake the Dawn (7 page)

“I’ll get one!” And out he raced.

Back with her patient, Esther listened to lungs and heart. Slow and heavy, definitely weaker. She prepared the IV site for transport.

“Roy? Unplug the machine, please.”

“Don’t we want to keep track—”

“We will. It has lots of battery, and they have a defib on board.” She leaned over their patient. “Denise, can you hear me?”

A slight nod. Very slight.

“Hang in there. Help is nearly here.”

Another nod, or was it only a flutter of eyelashes? Esther turned to Roy. “You been in a chopper before?”

He shook his head. “No. Will they let me go along?”

“We’ll have to see if there’s room, since you probably can’t drive there yet.” She ran through the list of patients in her mind. The only other one was the femoral artery. And Hannah. Hannah for sure before that guy. No one else, was there?

Ben came in shoving a gurney ahead of him, with the cleaning kid right behind.

“Ben? How many can ride in the chopper?”

“Lots. They brought in the Chinook. It’s better in heavy weather. Sorry there’s no sheet here, but we have none.”

“Okay.” She turned to Roy. “Pull out that roll of paper and put it down on the gurney. I was hoping to use a sheet to move her.” She laid the defibrillator on Denise’s chest; the abdomen felt drumhead-tight. The green line seemed to falter a bit as it tracked across. Bad connection?

Ben wiggled a finger. “Gary? You can help. We can do this. Stand there. We reach across the gurney, lift, slide her toward us. Don’t have to elevate her any farther than just to get her on the gurney. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!” He appeared just plain eager.

“Roy, here.” Ben lined them up, and Esther let him. He was doing fine, and she was too weary to think any farther than necessary. She’d do the head and the IV. Let them do the heavy lifting.

Ben instructed, “We all move on three. One; two—”

“Listen! I think I hear the chopper.” Roy turned his head to hear better.

“Okay, three.” They all lifted at approximately the same time and drew her over onto the gurney beside the examining table.

As if on cue, Rob called from the doorway, “Chopper’s here.”

Ben barked, “Tell ’em in here.”

Roy leaned over his wife’s face. “Hang in there, sweetheart. Come on, stay with us.”

Esther happened to glance at the defib monitor. “Oh, my God!” Quickly she cranked the volume up. “
No!
”

The thin green line had gone flat.

The defibrillator’s monotone took over, instructing them all to stand back, announcing the shock.

Denise’s whole body jumped. The cleaning kid gasped. The green line made a wild spike, another, dropped to flat again. The defibrillator continued its dispassionate monotone, urging them all to stand clear for another try.

Esther’s heart leaped. “Come on, Denise! You can’t do this. Not now!”

The defibrillator jolted her again. The line blipped a couple of times and went flat.

Two men in jumpsuits came jogging into the room. “We’ve got her.” They shoved the gurney out the door with Roy right behind. But Esther knew better.

Ben slammed his hand on the examining table—and swore.

Esther found herself sobbing, leaning on her stiffened arms against the bed. “We lost her.”

Chapter Seven

Y
ou will not cry! No crying now, you hear?
her mother’s voice, harsh and critical, screamed at her. Mother the avid feminist didn’t abide crying; liberated women didn’t do that.

“Esther?” The voice came again as from a far, far distance. “Esther!”

Pay attention! Get back into it!
Esther wanted to ignore that internal order but her sense of duty won out—finally. By this time, the voice had taken on a note of command or demand. Whichever wasn’t important.

“Yes.”

Barbara heaved a sigh of relief. “Chief is here, and he really wants to talk with you.”

“All right.” Esther straightened her shoulders to go to her office and realized she was already in her office. When had she come in here? What time was it?
Welcome back to the real world.
The voice in her head spoke in full-blown sarcasm now. How long had she been gone?

Chief loomed in the doorway. He looked as beaten down as she felt. She pointed to the chair, still trying to orient herself, to stabilize. “Are you all right?” Chief didn’t take the chair, choosing instead to lean against the closed door frame.

Be honest? Cover up? She shook her head. “Are any of us all right after all this?”

“Ben said—”

“Said what?” she interrupted. “Look, we all had a bad time here and most of us got through it.”

Chief nodded, his jaw firm to belie the warmth in his brown eyes. “You’re right. We’ll do our Monday-morning quarterbacking some other time. He was just concerned about you, and since it’s been a long time since he showed concern for anyone else, I figured it must be pretty serious. You know that anytime you need to talk, I know how to keep a confidence.”

“Thank you.” Easy to say, not easy to do, especially if you think others might be at risk.

She glanced at her watch while trying not to be obvious about it.

“I know, there are still mountains to climb.” He pulled himself away from the wall. “The supplies that first chopper brought are stacked in the hallway.”

As far as she could tell, she’d only been gone five minutes or so. Had her watch stopped or something?

“They unloaded while moving Mrs. Abrams out. They worked on her, too, but they’ve not had any more success than you did.”

“You heard from them?”

“Yes. They are calling it DOA. Esther, you did the best you could, you know that?”

She sniffed and nodded.
Let’s change the subject.
“How soon until the next one lands?”

“About three minutes. Ben is taking care of the order. We haven’t been able to go house-to-house yet, but the base was able to get us some trucks, so that’s next up. Don’t know how many injuries are still out there; there might be more who couldn’t get in to the clinic. I know this sounds crazy, but is there anything you don’t need here?”

She smirked, short of a smile. “Ask Ben, he’s gone searching for supplies more than I have. The ambulances are out of everything, too. Critical stuff first.” She paused. “How bad is it still out there?”

“Winds about twenty, gusting higher, pouring rain, river nearly to the banks. I’ve asked for help, but getting equipment in is another equation. The power company is doing all they can.”

She heard a chopper, even above the banging of something that must have broken loose, or almost. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be all right.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then opened the door. The folks in the waiting room were louder now, and she could hear Ben giving instructions. Back to the fray. She headed to the break room where Ansel and Ellen Jackson were caring for the babies.

Esther watched a moment. “You know, you four are the bright spots for all of us.”

“They put Hannah on the first chopper. She was a bright spot.”

“I know.” At least she remembered giving that order. “Anything you need?”

“Other than a home to go back to, not immediately.”

“You and half the town.” For the first time Esther thought of her little house. Had it made it through? For the first time, too, she was grateful she had no pets to worry about. Denise had lost her life because of her attempt to rescue a dog. Esther knew she would have done the same thing, especially if her cat had still been alive.

Leaving the sanctuary of peace and back in the hall, she could hear a man giving orders—not Ben, a different voice. She made her way through those still lining the hallway, nodding her greetings and assessing distress as she went. They still had plenty of work to do here. And sure enough, that was the blip of the ambulance. She turned and headed back to the emergency entrance instead.

The double doors slid open. “Is the surgery clear?” Dennis asked from the rear of the gurney. Yvette trotted beside him, keeping pressure on the bright scarlet rag wrapped around Chickie’s arm. Why had the Patersons named their boy Chick? And of course, at age thirteen he’d be Chickie. He looked pale, so he’d been losing blood awhile. He gave her a wan smile. She returned it. She had seen him through mumps, measles, and chicken pox so far. His parents were not big on immunization.

“Clear but…” Esther had no idea what was available.

A strong male voice called from the hall. “Bring that gurney right on through to the back door. We have better facilities on the chopper.”

Esther turned to see who had spoken.

“Sorry, Doctor, but I just got here and we haven’t met yet.” A tall, skinny guy with graying temples extended a hand. “George Livingston. I head up ER over on the base.”

She couldn’t help it; the opportunity was just too ripe. “Dr. Livingston, I presume.” She shook his hand.

His look made it obvious that he got that all the time.

A man with him signaled two others, all of them strapping young fellows in air force fatigues. Instead of trying to thread Chickie’s gurney through the quagmire of needy people to the double doors, they simply hoisted it high, Chickie and all, and carried it down the hall and out the back door.

Dr. Livingston glanced at Dennis and Yvette as if they were privates and he the general. “You have anyone else out there, bring the ambulance back here. Oh, and we have supplies for you, so come anyway.”

They didn’t move, instead looking pointedly at Esther.

She nodded to them. “Do as he says. We need all the help we can get.” It was clear that Dennis got the same vibes she did. She ignored for the moment her resentment at the man’s high-handedness, but right now anything that anyone could do needed to be appreciated. She’d just have to pray her resentment didn’t swell to explosion status. It could happen, especially with the state she was in.

“Who was that man, Mommy?” a small voice asked.

“I think that was Superman,” the older boy beside her replied. “But he musta forgot his cape.”

The titter that flitted around the room caught Esther, too. Leave it to children. Right now they sure could use a Superman or three. She checked the examination rooms to find Rob with an old man in the first. She knew the fellow. Cooper? Somebody Cooper. Her brain was turning to fuzz. “Need transport?”

“Yes,” Rob said. “Possible heart.”

“Okay. I’ll tell them.” She turned back into the hall and flagged down one of Dr. Livingston’s EMTs. Or was the young man a paramedic? “Where is his wife?” she asked Rob.

He shook his head.

When she mouthed
gone
, he nodded. She couldn’t bear to mouth
dead
.

He looked grim. “Mr. Cooper was found unconscious by a neighbor.”

The new man appeared in the doorway and looked from Rob to Esther. “We’ll take care of him.” He stepped backward into the hall, waved, and returned. A young woman in fatigues pushed a gurney into the room, the man behind her carrying in a bag of gear.

The gurney was one of those lightweight aluminum jobs you see in supply catalogs and dream about. Top of the line. The pockets in the fatigues they all wore bulged with supplies to be whipped out on a moment’s notice. Esther couldn’t suppress her envy. They had all the best and latest. She had a clunker X-ray and commissioners who didn’t want to spend any money.

They expertly slipped an oxygen mask in place and tucked the small oxygen canister against his side, splacked the electrode patches on his bared torso, and plugged a slim and tidy portable defibrillator onto them. “We’ll hook him up in the chopper and leave this O
₂
with you.” Away they went. Military precision.

The Coopers; Grace. Ernie. They were both my patients.
Esther fought for control.

“They celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary last Sunday,” Rob said softly.

Esther nodded. “I know. I was there.”

“I’ll clean up in here. I think Gary fell asleep.”

“Thanks.” She checked room two where Ben was adjusting a sling around a teen’s neck, cradling her arm. For a border patrolman, he tied a nice sling. “Broken?”

“Yes. I put ice from the machine on it for now. We’re out of ice packs and inflatables.”

“It hurts so bad,” the girl cried. “I mean über-bad.”

Esther had never seen the girl, but the mother had been in a couple of times for migraines. Esther asked Ben, “We have a slew of boxes. Are we unpacking them?”

“No time yet.”

“What do we have left to give her?”

“Aspirin. Only because we had lots of it to start with.”

“Please! I need something! It hurts so bad!”

Esther forced a grimace that was just going to have to pass for a smile. “We know, and we’ll do the best we can for you.”

“Don’t you have anything stronger?” Her mom, either overweight or undertall, hovered at her side. “I gave her some Imitrex before we came. It didn’t seem to do any good.” Chase. The mother’s name was Chase. Esther finally remembered.

“Sumatriptan is indicated for migraines. It doesn’t work well on normal pain.”

“This isn’t normal!” the girl howled.

Everybody suffers pain, that’s life. Get used to it.
Esther had to either ignore the kid or blow up. She chose to ignore her and turned to Ben. “Take her back to Susan and let her get started. I’ll meet you in X-ray. We can take time for that now.” She didn’t even try to smile at the mother. “An orthopedist needs to deal with this. Let me—” She cocked her head. “Is that another chopper leaving or coming?”

“Coming, ma’am,” a young man with a Southern accent said with a smile. He stood in the doorway in clean, neat fatigues, looking at their patient. Ogling? Almost. “You heard our Huey leaving. What do you need?”

“Splint for a broken arm?”

“Yes, ma’am.” From one of the leg pockets he pulled out a handful of little plastic packets, chose one, stuffed the others back in. “Got a small right here.” He shook it out.

“What’s that?” The girl looked alarmed. “It’s not going to hurt worse, is it?”

“No, ma’am.” The fellow was smiling even brighter. Esther and Ben both stepped back to let him do his thing. “On a break like yours, it will relieve the pain—not altogether, but a lot.” Deftly, he untied that lovely sling and let it fall away. Supporting her arm with one hand, he slipped the clear plastic tube over her wrist and up to the elbow. That had to make the hurt worse, but she was gazing at him, her knight in shining fatigues. Esther had forgotten all about teen psych.

The knight leaned over and inflated it by mouth. The clear plastic tube expanded, tightened. He purred platitudes in a quiet Southern drawl as he shook out a triangular bandage and built a sling around her arm that was not nearly as neat or artful as Ben’s. Then he pulled out another triangular bandage, whipped it into a swathe, and wrapped it around her upper body, snugging the sling against her chest.
It must be nice having enough triangular bandages to be able to use two on a patient.
“My name is Kyle. What’s yours?”

“Tiffany. Tiffany Jane, but I like just Tiffany.”

“So do I.” And Kyle ushered Tiffany and her mother toward the door. “I sure hope riding in a helicopter was on your dream list, Tiffany, because that’s what is going to happen.”

The mother stopped. “No! Wait. Can I just drive her? The cost…”

In that smooth Southern accent, “Don’t worry about the cost. We’re military. There will be none.”

From the hall, a starchy woman’s voice asked, “How many?”

“Minor with her mother.”

Esther and Ben just stood there looking at each other in the silent, empty room.

A middle-aged woman in fatigues paused in the doorway, a clipboard in hand. “We’ve got the cardiac loaded, the old man, and we’ll take these two. We can handle two more. Do you have others ready to transport?” She studied her clipboard. No eye contact.

“I-I’m not sure.” Esther hesitated. She should have a better handle on her patients. She didn’t even know who had been transported and who had not. This was all getting away from her. “Check with Barbara on the front desk. She’s been able to keep better track.”

“I will do that.” Without looking at either of them, the woman marched off.

And Esther was too tired to care. For the next hour she and her team worked with the new team as they dealt with those still in need of aid and put away the fresh supplies.

By ten o’clock the easily portable patients had been moved to the Lutheran church where they would be fed and looked after. The ambulances had been refueled and restocked, ready for their next runs. Everyone in the waiting room had been seen and were either waiting for transportation, watching television, or, in many cases, sleeping.