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"I haven't had time. With the San Bernadino brush fire season in full swing. I'm behind doing a lot of things." the wizened chief's eyes alighted on a tray of packaged sandwiches being carted past by a relief worker. "Including finding some grub. Hungry Hank?" Stanley was not slow. He intercepted the tray of food that surprised the young tunic'd woman for a few seconds when its weight left her hands. She saluted and did an about face to head outside for more sandwiches. "Thanks, maam. Could you run a tray to the morgue? I've several downstairs with patients." "How many?" "Just under a dozen.." "I'll be there.." flashed the young woman's smile in the smoky lobby. "Give me four minutes." "Appreciate it." Hank waved, munching on a ham and cheese. Battalion was equally engaged with a roast beef on rye. "Umm, nothing like deli on a busy work day." "Even inside a morgue?" Cap asked. "Even in a morgue, Hank. Location's never stopped my appetite before. Never has, never will." The chief hefted up his sandwich in a mock toast. "Here's to light civilian casualties and a rapidly dying fire." "Here, here." Hank celebrated. And the whole room of firefighters concurred from whereever they were. The chief bellowed. "Get back to work all of you slackers! We still got a full week's hazard cleanup to do.." he yelled with an unserious grin. "Now where was I?" he asked Hank over the map. "Hot Zone center cleanup." "Oh yeah.. Right. Now the best angle of attack I can see for clean up is to continue the EMS personnel's evacuation of stragglers for full decontamination in the Green Zone. I'm convinced we won't need Level A barrier isolation for either the Decontamination nor the Rehabilitation Stations. Gloves and aprons will be enough." the chief reiterated. "We'll just keep using polybags for the evacuee's leather clothing articles. Benzene will stay concentrated in those." Hank nodded. "And I have the third alarm units gathering names and addresses and the businesses on all of them so we can get our headcounts and check for any other potential missing people." "Good. Good." the chief nodded. "I've already had L.A. call a clinical facility to handle all the hazardous waste we'll create with our soaking sandpiles and demolition operations." "And I've instructed L.A. City Fire Departments Nine and 112's to continue to check for airborne contaminants down wind." "Their findings?" "Mostly carbon monoxide and some tetrahydrocarbons. Nothing in the OSHA risk ranges yet. I'm most happy with the fact that the benzene is dissipating. The foam units are doing the trick. Only one backflash outside the back alley has been reported." Captain Stanley said. |
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"Hmm, the one that you boys drove through getting back here. Is your engine bad off?" Captain Stanley was silent. "Don't worry about E-51. I'll handle her repair paperwork personally. I'm sure Charlie the mechanic and his lackies will make her a priority. He loves your station's vehicles you know." "I know he does.." Cap complained. "The way he jumps all over my men on every visit proves that. " and he broke off into an imitation of Charlie's gruff New York taxi driver accent. "You boys're gonna stop jamming the squad tires up against the curbs on rescue calls or I'm gonna come jam your skulls along side of the backyard walls the first chance I get!" Hank parroted. "Ooo, " grimaced Battalion in sympathy. "He's that obssessed with the Ward and Chrysler?" "Yep. Almost as much as I hate getting surprise insp--" he broke off, suddenly pale with embarrassment. The chief cleared his throat, pretending that he didn't hear Hank's slipped comment. "I'll curb Charlie, too during the repair job. Your whole station crew today has done the department proud. I'll be issuing commendations for each and every one of you as soon as my staff can get to it." "Thank you, Chief." Hank said, lowering his head in humility. "I'm sure my men will be thrilled see those during the next monthly meeting." "Keep them a surprise." Battalion ordered. "Yes sir." Right then, Hank's HT, connected to the one in the morgue, came to life. It was Dr. Scribbs with news. ##Mr. Stanley. Your paramedic's awake and talking. The M.D. you got here's a real efficient man. Knows his stuff better than I know mine. Just thought you should know. You're busy so I'll sign off now.## Click. Battalion started grinning. "Hank..." "Huh..?" "Get down there before you burn holes in this map of ours. Your body's home but your brain isn't. Go see your man. You'll be no good to me until you've reassured yourself that he's out of hot water." the chief chuckled. "You have three minutes.. Go....I'll assume your command assignment until you get back." Hank went. |
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Dr. Scribbs looked up from admiring Dr. Brackett's triage chart with a wounded look. "My ward's spotless Mr. Gage. Not a trace of odor anywhere. I personally disinfected your table myself before you were transferred onto it." "Charmed, doc. It's not the physical odor I'm talking about it's the..." "...psychosomatic one.. I know.." Scribbs sighed sadly. "I hear that from absolutely everybody non department who comes in here." he sniffed. "And I've even tried to cheer up the place, too, for all the clinical residents I get visiting me each week." and he threw a hand at a prominent Garfield wall calendar tacked up under a stark white, round two handed clock. "Doesn't it help?" Chet Kelly started an empathetic no, but Mike Stoker stepped on his foot to silence him. Gage let his head thunk back onto his paper sheeted pillow. "A little... I guess.." he replied when Dix put on a little visual pressure with a do it or die face. "Oh, what a relief. I can only decorate so much you know. It's because of the nature of my work." "If you're so hung up on decor, why don't you go be a mortician in a funeral home. That kind of place is totally lavish. Satin coffins, velvet curtains, carpetting.." Chet needled Scribbs. Scribbs refused to rise to the bait. "I like problem solving too much to be satisfied with just corpse restoration for burial. Here, I can determine cause of death and there's nothing, gentlemen, more intriguing than that." he said with a grin. Mike Stoker cleared his throat. "Yes, well. Uh... Chow's on. Looks like Cap sent us down a tray.." Gage reached for a sandwich eagerly. Dixie slapped his hand away. "Not so fast, Near Death Boy. You've orders for nothing P.O." "Aw,, Dix. I feel fine.." Johnny said. "Yeah?" Kel admitted. "Well the tests Dr. Scribbs and I ran on you say otherwise. If your blood alkali normalizes within the next hour, I'll see about you eating anything. Until then, that I.V.'s all you're gonna get." "Ok, doc, you're my doc." "And so am I." glared Scribbs. "er... for the time being." Johnny mock saluted them both, grumbling while everyone but Sheppard moved away to fill their bellies. Malcolm declined his food saying he might lose it when his arm was reset. Dixie dove into her egg salad. "Suit yourself." she told him. Johnny threw a needle cover at Mike Stoker's back to get his attention when the others had gone. He didn't mind Gil Sheppard remaining for Gage trusted the paramedic to have selective hearing while he dove through the sports pages. Stoker swallowed his last bite of chicken breast on wheat and he sat by Johnny. "Need something?" Gage studied his hands. "Yeah, your ear." he said timidly. "Look, I didn't mean to critique all you did for me. This chip's nothing the dentist can't fix. I have soft teeth I'm told. And you must've had to hurry or something." "I did. You quit breathing less than ten seconds after you dropped the BP cuff.." Mike Stoker said. "I did?" "Yeah. That must have been some benzene dose you took. Something in liquid form I suspect." Mike nodded. "Was anyone else effected?" he asked quietly worried. "Chet was. Both his eyes.." Johnny's face screwed up in complaint.. "Well why does he get to eat?! For crying out l-- That's not fair.." Mike hushed him. "His tests came out negative for phenol." Johnny relented and suppressed a cough so the EKG monitor wouldn't set off a PVC alarm and send the others running. He just thought about what he was going to say for a minute and then he looked up at Stoker. "Thanks for bailing my butt, Mike. I could've died today." "Well you didn't. And even if you had, no one does for long under MY c.p.r." "That much is true.." Johnny chuckled, seriously. "Still. Thanks, pal." And he held out his I.V. taped hand. Mike Stoker took it into a clasp, moved far beyond easy words, so he didn't speak. A nod sufficed. But then he tilted his head and he stuck out a pinning finger. "The first moment you're back on your feet and back on duty. You're gonna drill me on the mannikin. I wanna get a full intubation done in less than the minute they give you. And I wanna learn how to NOT cause a laryngospasm." Johnny warmed up to the new subject heartily and his cardiac monitor sped up into an excited range. "That's easy. Here, move closer. I wanna tell you how I do all MY endotrachs. Roy's method's good. But a tad slow. I got a few seconds on him and he's been in this line of work longer than me.." he grinned lopsidedly. "Now after you've visualized the cords there's a positioning trick you can do with your elbows where you just cock your non stylus hand up a hair.. like this.. Here let me show you.. Gimme your hands.. Are you with me so far?" Mike nodded. "Ok, so you've got your scope blade in and the tongue's pushed to the right out of the way.. now all you have to do is..." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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