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"Good. Last thing we need is more outgassing." he said remembering Chet's stinging eyes from before. "Let's advance ten feet and start picking away this debris with pikes. Watch for power lines. Odergard! Take over Mike's lead. I'm having him take out the Engine behind us as we advance!" The way before them wasn't easy. Shards of glass from the explosion damaged windows above them constantly rained down on them and wind blown bits of burning roof material. Foot by foot, they neared the place where Stoker said the Mayfair lay buried. A tumbled burning billboard sign sliced the supply line in two when it impacted the pavement and the stairwell side of the hose started bucking around the garage door frame opening. The half feeding the engine, went limp and useless, tattered and dragging on the ground. "Leave it!" Cap ordered. "We'll pull just off the engine's tank for now. Our recovery push has the priority!" Inside, he wondered. ::Just how long can our 400 gallon water reservoir last in all this heat? Guess we're gonna find out.:: |
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=================================================== Roy DeSoto coughed, shaking himself awake. The first thing he did was give an order to Malcolm, the attendant in the back with him, "Shut off all the oxygen! Do it now!" he said, groping around the spilled medical supplies around him for a flashlight. Roy could see active fire licking the back windows. He flicked on the torch to find them sitting on the side wall of the ambulance, the gurney still latch clamped to the floor with his patient hanging there from his straps. Not surprisingly, the man was awake. "Get me out of here! I'm gonna fall...*cough* " moaned the man. "The main valve's off.." Malcolm told Roy, cradling a broken arm. "You sure?" "Yeah. I just bled the regulator by feel. It's dead." the ambulance attendant assured him. Roy nodded at Malcolm's injury but the rippled haired man waved him off. "Check on Art. I haven't heard him at all yet." Reaching out in the darkness, DeSoto found the yellow air bottle that he had taken with him in his haste to leave for Rampart. It was something he always did in brush fire season. Just to have it between his knees, even riding inside the squad within city limits. Now, it was going to pay him dividends. He slipped into its mask. Roy suppressed his own fear and ignored the cut he felt throbbing on his forehead. "We're gonna be fine." he told them both. Then he pinned a stare at his patient, who was ripping off his EKG pads and wires. " I'll deal with you after I check out our driver, ok, mister....." he dug for information. "..Smith..." said the worker evasively. " John B. Smith. " when he realized by the outside lab smell filtering in to him on just what his current situation was. "Let me outta here now!" "Mr. Smith... Quit thrashing around. Malcolm's gonna free you. Now we're much safer in here than we'll be out there so just relax. Let me get by to the front. You hurt anywhere?" he asked him. The man's head shake answered back. "Good. Now just hang tight for a sec. Art?! You ok up there?" DeSoto said pounding on the narrow peek window of the ambulance. He opened it. A wall of bitter, burning smoke rushed in and all Roy got was a glimpse of spidered glass, twisted metal and blood where the front end of the Mayfair used to be. The cab was completely flattened and so was the roof, right over where Art had once been sitting behind the wheel. A person shaped charcoal colored mass fully on fire lay across the seat now. DeSoto slammed the window shut with a gasp. His look told Malcolm all he needed to know. |
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"What's that new smell?" complained their impatient patient. " I think I'm going to be sick." Roy covered his nose and mouth with a hand to hide his stunned reaction. "Try to breathe slow, Mr. Smith. You're only going to pass out again if you keep hyperventilating. How do you feel?" "How am I supposed to feel? Like sh*t! Now, I-- I-m trapped in what looks like an ambulance that got caught when our crystal meth cookery blew up. And here we are tipped ov--" Mr. Smith broke off when he realized what he was saying. Roy's eyes narrowed as he took a pull off his air mask, handing it to Malcolm so that he could breathe in a clean lungful. " Mr. Smith. Am I hearing you right? Now I believe you better start levelling with me right now. A lot of lives are in danger from that noxious mess that you and your chem cooking buddies created so carelessly. Now, the hazmat team handling this's gonna haveta know what main ingredients you were using and how much!" "Ain't gonna talk without my lawyer." the shifty man said flatly with only a little intelligence. "I'm choking here. Give me some air like you're giving him." "No, you're contaminated with something that I don't know about. I don't wanna increase the risk to Malcolm and I by sharing with you." DeSoto replied quietly. "Just what kind of paramedic are you withholding care from me?! I'll tell my lawyer. Just how would you like a charge of malpractice on your hands Fireman DeSoto.." he glared, reading Roy's dusty name tag. "And I'll charge your friend here, too. He shut off my oxygen." And Mr. Smith reached for the valve that would turn on the flow to the mask hanging around his neck. Roy tackled his arm away. "There's fire out there! Are you sick or something?!" The man nodded animatedly, yanking out his I.V. with a jerk and folding his arm up. "Ummm Hmm and crazy.. Why do you think I staggered into the supe's office and collapsed on the floor? I was feeling lousy. Mac mixed something that wasn't pure." Again the bald headed lanky druggie clamped a hand over his mouth to silence himself. He immediately started coughing when the stench from the forward cab began to leak through the cracked window. "Come on! You guys are already contaminated from touching me because of the way we're all pretzeled together around this gurney. Gimme some air, I--I'm ..*gag* choking on the dead guy.." Roy's mouth pressed into a firm line as he took his turn to suck on his SCBA tank mask. "Not until you give me a list of everything in that lab, starting with the largest quantity medium first." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The six firemen watched the fires raging above them intently. The sky had grown grayer. They first thought it was smoke but soon it proved to be a rare California cloud burst. The rain fell but was evaporated before it hit the ground in front of them and the fire started from the building debris began igniting a cocoon of fire around them and the engine. "Into the cab! Into the cab! Now!" Cap shouted. "Get up onto the hose bed if you have to. Kelly, Lopez ! Knock that down before we burn!" Two of the firemen climbed onto the roof as Stoker advanced Engine 51 ahead. The moment the way was clear and just steaming, they leaped onto the Mayfair patient compartment. Hank was just as fast on HT as he was on his feet. He joined 24's men on pounding on the skin of the ambulance. "Roy! Can you hear me?" he shouted into the HT on Roy's band. Muffled solid pounds answered back to their great relief. Three times, the swirling fire igniting the debris in the parking lot threatening the ambulance while a K-12 split open the shell encasing Roy and the others before Kelly and Lopez's single line pushed it back again. "Benzene, Cap!.. Gage got into benzene!" said, Roy thrusting a rumpled bill of lading through the sizzling gap. "He had this in his pocket. The whole damned * choke* list." "Got it.. Radioing it out." Then Cap was back reaching into the hole for Roy's arm. "You guys ok in there?" said Cap quickly. "We already know about the driver. Any back or neck injuries?" he said while his men worked to fold back the skin. |
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"Malcolm's got a broken arm. Just get us out of here.." Roy said. "How's Johnny?" "He's doing ok. Stoker intubated him." "What?! Any complications? I mean.. d- did it work?" DeSoto said as he was pulled outside. "Course it worked! I'm Brackett's star pupil remember?" Mike grinned enthusiastically from inside the idling Ward. |
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Then the water ran out and his smile faded instantly. "Our welcome's just got jaded pal. Ready to move? Side fires are pressing in, Roy." Hank said. DeSoto crouched down looking back through the hole in the Mayfair as 24's men hoisted an arm splinted Malcolm out. "Yeah. But our crook's not cooperating. He said he wanted to stay in there when you guys showed up." "Oh really..." Cap said glowering. A ladder hook to the shirt collar soon fished the reluctant patient out. Malcolm and Mr. Smith were given SCBAs to wear and everyone climbed onto the Ward's hose bed as the fire mounted around them. "Go! Stoker Go!" Cap said, as he smacked the roof of the engine cab. "Back to the garage. Ram the billboard clutter out of the way if you have to. Just get us back inside in one piece!" Stoker reversed direction after Kelly and Lopez cast off the useless hose. The tires on the engine began to smoulder as she was moved slower and slower due to reduced visibility. Mike Stoker shouted. "I don't think the engine can take much more of this, Captain!" "She's gonna have to!" Hank said, huddling down with the rest of them on top over the injured Malcolm and the blubbering Mr. Smith. "Put the pedal to the metal, Pal, even on rims!" |
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Everybody swatted cinders landing on everybody else for long seconds. Then a current of white frothy liquid from an unexpected source covered them in a drenching cold deluge. A team of fire fighters using alcohol foam from the roof of a nearby house coated Engine 51 and put out her fires. |
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The Ward swept into the morgue garage moments after. Soon, it was back into hiding for all of them while the Carson City fire raged on. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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********************************************************** Date: Thu, 5 Aug 2004 10:37:09 -0700 (PDT) From: "Patti or Jeff or Cassidy" <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> Subject: The Subtle Differences Doctor Scribbs immediately looked up as the engine crew returned with Roy, Malcolm, and Mr. Smith. "In there." he said pointing to a second autopsy room that had a shower ring already placed and running over the exam table. "I've got things set up for their decontamination. Gentlemen, I suggest you all take another round of scouring yourselves. I've fresh scrubs for you all to change into." the medical examiner said no nonsense. "Like these.." he said pulling on his own top. "Thanks. " Roy said, immediately recognizing his benefactor. "Hiya, doc. Thanks for putting up with us." "Gladly, Roy. You and your patients all right?" said Dr. Scribbs. "Belliveau and Sheppard have Gage well under control." he said crisply. "He's showing signs of waking according to them, but his pupils are still a bit dilated and sluggish and he has decreased deep tendon reflexes." "Benzene'll do that. Any arrythmias showing up on the monitor, Sheppard?" DeSoto asked the Station 24 medic. "No. He's one lucky b*st*rd. No pulmonary edema either." said the tan haired man sitting by Gage's head. "He's breathing now. Began to happen almost as soon as we got the stuff off of him. Starting to react to pain." Roy nodded, glancing at Belliveau who had already started Malcolm's decontamination after a quick vitals set and a switch to a new clean arm splint. Marco and Chet helped Malcolm steady himself where he was seated under the shower ring. "He never lost consciousness, Bob. Did real good the whole time." he reported. "Thanks.." Belliveau said. "And you?" he said, motioning to the cut on Roy's forehead. "I'm ok. I had a brief blackout but I'm not the least bit nauseated. You can fuss over me once we get these two taken care of." Then DeSoto excused himself and took the fastest scrub of his life. |
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While the gang decontaminated once again, Dr. Scribbs filled in Hank Stanley. "The Support area's been established outside. A doc and a head nurse are coming here to handle our situation. Coming in by bird. Some hot shot named..uh..." "Brackett.." Cap guessed."Good. He handled Gage previously with Stoker on the HT band. Although I don't know how they're going to get in here. Your front entrance may be in the Hot Zone from the meth explosion." Cap admitted. "We're not. The chief says all LEL sensors are showing zero on our block. There's a bunch of firemen upstairs and a Battalion Chief setting up a base in my office right now. They've cleared us." Scribbs affirmed. "Terrific.. You don't know how good that sounds. I'll be right back." said the sweaty fire captain. "I'm joining them after washing up. Keep this radio handy. I'm putting you in charge of keeping me updated on all of my men." Scribbs noticed and appreciated the trust 51's captain was imparting to him. "You got it." said the no nonsense M.E. "You'll know faster than they will of any status changes. I'm a keen observer.." the doc added, jerking a thumb over at the paramedics tending Malcolm and Gage. "I have no doubt about that." Hank grinned. "And keep an eye on that turkey over there. He's a criminal of the worst kind. He's one of the ones responsible for the disaster outside." "Oh, really.." said Scribbs darkly. "Looks like there'll be no pot of coffee open for him. Nothing by mouth for any injured patient, right?" he asked sarcastically. "I think I'll doubly enforce that right now.." he said, moving off to verbally let loose his two cents opinion in a furious tirade to the blanket wrapped man about the meth lab in city hall. Stanley cringed. "Ooo. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that. Scribbs'll dissect him, piece by piece, for sure!" |
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Roy sat down on a stool by Johnny Gage's side and immediately set his hands on his chest to feel his breathing while he checked out the shifting movements of his partner's eyes beneath their eyelids. He felt Mike Stoker's presence behind him and the engineer's worry practically rolled off of him like a scent. "Stoker, you made all the difference in the world. Relax. Johnny's almost all the way back to fighting his airway now. The perfect one you established, I'll remind you." Caught lingering, Mike almost whispered. "Could he have hurt his throat after that spasm? I mean, I had that scope down past his soft palate when it happened." Mike asked. "Nah. His muscles would've pushed it out before any injury. I've had that happen a million times. Not your fault he cramped up. Benzene makes a victim a little sensitive to bronchospasms and throat lockups." Roy said, listening to Gage's chest. "He's still clear here. No edema.." he smiled. The quiet engineer visibly relaxed and took a place on Johnny's free side just to be near him. Roy didn't fail to see the grip Stoker made to check for a beat in Johnny's wrist. "I thought I screwed up majorly." Mike sighed as he reassured himself that Johnny's BP was indeed on the rise. Roy shook his head. "Here. Have a listen to where your tube is." he offered, passing the stethoscope over to Mike to use. "You got it just above the bronchial split and there's no gastric bubbling at all behind it, so the endotrach's straight and not bowing against the esophagus through his trachea like what sometimes happens when a size too big is used. You guessed Johnny's need for a seven french like a pro. Like I said, he's got an absolutely perfect airway all thanks to you." Mike watched his crewmates across the room get cleaned and changed. "You know. I don't know how you and Johnny handle all the pressure. I mean, I handle that myself, but it's pressure of the water kind, not a gush of emotion like I felt when Johnny went down." He set the stethoscope down unused. "That's normal." DeSoto said. "I'd start to worry if you hadn't felt that. The intensity of it diminishes with practice and in time you... ....learn to deal with it. ....and push it aside. Your training will get you through every time. You'll be so busy thinking ...what next? that you'll hardly have time for self doubt. Stoker, you're just new. And what I've seen today.. Your instincts are right on for a paramedic intermediate rookie in this stage of the game. You didn't freeze up nor buckle under one h*ll of a snap decision. I think Kel Brackett knew you better than you know yourself. You can handle it. And you did." he chuckled, pointing to where Gage was bundled up inside the warm body bag. Roy frowned. "Although I don't think Johnny's gonna like the choice of bedclothes here when he wakes up. Could ya find me some blankets or something? Maybe we can disguise the cadaver table here a bit so he won't notice." |
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"Sure.." Mike said. "Thanks for the pep talk.." he said, leaning over so Sheppard didn't hear him. "Anytime. Thanks for saving my partner's life. I owe you one." "Who's keeping score?" Stoker shrugged, and went off searching the morgue's cabinets, whistling aimlessly, his hands in his scrubs pockets. Roy smiled and rechecked Johnny's liter of normal saline drip flow rate for the millionth time unnecessarily. DeSoto lifted his head when he heard the sound of helicopter blades slicing the air as it landed on the medical examiner's building. |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dr. Brackett and Dixie McCall swept into the morgue with full jump bags. "Ok, what do we got?" Kel ordered. "Johnny's breathing and starting to fuss." Sheppard announced. "Tidal volume without support?" "Full and clear." "Ok. extubate him. Gently. Benzene'll make him extra sensitive to vagal stimulation and may cause another spasm. If he goes into ventricular tachyrhythmias, avoid epinephrine completely. Use a beta blocker. His pressure above 90?" "Yeah, I got a wrist pulse.." Stoker volunteered to Dr. Brackett. "Nice work earlier on the endotrach, Stoker. Ok, Sheppard, turn down that I.V. to an infusion rate of 150 to 200 mL/hour. Have Diazepam, a 5 to 10 mg i.v. dose handy in case he seizes. Repeat that every 10 to 15 minutes as needed when and if he does. Use a light metaproterenol inhaler for any bronchospasms. Benzene has an anesthetic action on the central nervous system in high enough doses. That's most likely why he collapsed and quit breathing on us so fast. Now that he's washed, he'll come around fairly rapidly." "Right.." acknowledged Sheppard with a nod. Dr. Brackett frowned. "I just wish I could run a few tests here.." he mumbled. Dr. Scribbs overheard. "You can, doctor. This may be an L.A. County autopsy lab, but Sam and I have state of the art analysis equipment that's the rival of anything you have at the hospital. Including an electron microscope. What do you need?" Kel blinked, watching Dixie get vitals on Roy and Mr. Smith. "Oh...Uh. ..ok.. Think you and your assistant can handle all of these? A CBC with differential, Hct, Hgb, serum erythrocyte count. Erythrocyte indices, three of them, an MCV, MCH, and MCHC along with a platelet count? We're gonna have to check for developing pancytopenia." "Easily.." Scribbs punctuated. |
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"Ok, how about a BUN, blood calcium, creatinine series. Liver function tests of these two types,.. looking for hepatic aminotransferase levels.. ..AST, ALT. A search for elevated bilirubin, and a prothrombin time. Also a urinalysis check for phenol. That's a byproduct of benzene as it decomposes in the renal system. " Dr. Brackett rattled off. "Percutaneous absorption can contribute to total body burden." "I'm aware of that metabolite and fact, Dr. Brackett." "Oh. You are? Sorry. Oh, .. and I'd like to pin down signs of paroxysmal hemoglobinuria." "No problem." Scribbs fired off. "How about checking for intravascular hemolysis? We'll have to give him 50 to 100 mEq of sodium bicarbonate intravenously to his I.V. to initiate urinary alkalinization to stop it." Kel asked, still deep in concern and concentration. Scribbs laughed out loud noisily to get the Rampart M.D.'s attention. "Doctor, there isn't one test we can't do here. Just because we deal with deceased persons, doesn't mean that we're limited medically speaking in the slightest way." " Whoops. I never said you were." Kel said automatically. Dixie McCall shot back. "How about having the ability to make a decent cup of coffee? It's something the hospital stinks at." Kel made a face at Dix in commiseration. Scribbs rolled his eyes self consciously. "Now that's one procedure my assistant and I haven't been able to master." "Too bad.." McCall grinned, getting the needed blood and urine samples from Gage efficiently. "These boys look like they could use a bit of something to warm up a bit." |
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"I'll turn up the thermostat." and Scribbs rushed off to show Kel Brackett where the testing equipment was located. "Uh, that's if someone would be so kind as to shut that storage cooler door up first. Right this way, Mr. Brackett. The lab stairway's right through here." "Wait a minute." Brackett stopped Scribbs. "I'd like to hear about my other three patients first if you don't mind." "Oh, right. Sorry. I'm so used to one "patient" at a time. This triage concept's a little foreign to me." he admitted. "Nothing to it. Belliveau? How's your three?" "Mr. Smith's vitals are a bit elevated but he has no traumatic injuries. Roy here on the other hand, suffered a black out when the ambulance overturned." "Roy's vitals are normal. Pupils are equal and reactive." Dixie supplied, to end Kel's frown about hearing that. Kel nodded. "And Malcolm here?" "A simple radial ulnar break I think. Circulation, sensation and motor ability in the hand is intact." Bob answered. "No loss of consciousness in his history at all." "Great news." and Dr. Brackett looked up. "We'll save the rest of our I.V.s for walk in casualties. " Then he fell to rubbing his chin, "Say I wonder if we can get that fracture x--" Scribbs was quick. "We can.. I'll get Roy's full skull series going, too. If you two gentlemen will follow me." he gestured to the ambulance attendant and head bandaged paramedic respectively. "Malcolm, you stay right there in that wheel chair with that arm splint propped up. No one that needy ever walks in my office." "Of that I have no doubt.." rejoined Chet Kelly. Marco Lopez and Mike Stoker laughed at his joke. |
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--------------------------------------------------------- Upstairs, Captain Stanley was only half heartened by the solid rain falling from the clouds. "That'll end the roof fires, chief." he adressed Battalion. "But what about any chemicals reactant to water?" "We're letting the heart of the Hot Zone burn. That'll decompose most of what this bill of lading has listed. The perimeter units, Foam 127 and 110 are covering the spread of that. The only risk factor I see is the benzene, with its outgassing ability and the fact that it's heavier than air. It may flow into the street craters where the gaslines blew and reignite isolated pockets of liquid gas on lingering sparks." the chief said. "Fill the trenches with foam. We've plenty. I just heard L.A. City's here." "Might work." Battalion admitted. "I know it will." said the surgical scrubbed garbed captain. He absently adjusted the helmet that still perched on his head. The chief had a chuckle at Hank's clothes. "You know, you look like a doc from a television soap opera wearing those." Hank looked down at himself subconsciously and whirled to see if any other of the bustling firefighters going in and out of the building were staring. But none were. "Sorry, chief. It was all they had." "The hat's enough for your rank identification. Tell me. How are those two Code I's of yours?" "Fine,.. well, one is fine. Roy DeSoto took a knock on the head but it's minor. My other paramedic is.." and he shrugged when his voice choked off. The chief patted Hank's shoulder as Stanley busied himself with not reading the city map festooned with the red fire point stick pins, spread out on the communications desk before them. "I overheard your engineer on the radio. Tell me, does he always play paramedic for your station?" Cap immediately blushed. "Uh, Chief. Stoker's been fully authorized by the head of the paramedic program, Kel Brackett. I--I'm surprised you didn't get the memo.." |
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