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##Engine 51.## Gage shouted."Get stokes and backboards!" The gang rushed forward, wetting down the pier as they hurried to reach the blast victims' sides. Roy dropped onto his knees next to the first who wasn't moving. He lifted the cracked face shield and startled. "Ahh.." A six inch spike had penetrated the special plastic and was embedded sickeningly in between the man's bulging eyes. They stared up sightlessly. "This officer's dead." he said as his probing fingers found the lack of a pulse in his bloody neck. He saw gray matter beginning to drip out of his nose. "He's past attempting." he told the others. "Leave him." DeSoto turned to the screaming man to whom Johnny was speaking. Johnny was quickly exposing areas showing blood. "Easy, easy. Just lie still. You've got punctures all over the place up and down both of your arms and legs and you're bleeding badly from your thigh. Don't move. We're gonna stop it and your pain as soon as we can." "Marve? M-Marve?!" The second man kept trying to reach for the feet of the first. DeSoto grabbed the older officer's shoulders when he saw Marco begin to apply a femoral artery pressure hold. "Hey. Listen to me. I'm sorry. But Marve didn't make it. He's gone." The wounded cop's face fell into lines of grief, shock. "...no. Not Marve.." he gasped, finally accepting what his eyes were telling him. Then he grimaced as the agony of his wounds bore down in sharp focus when the adrenaline he had been experiencing, starting wearing off. Roy held his head as Chet prepared flowing oxygen. "Where else do you hurt? How's your head? Chest?" "Just my legs and arms.." the man sobbed, sweating. "Oh, G*d. Why did we come?" he cried. His detective boss was thunderstruck. Kneeling carefully in the sharp debris, he took his police officer's bloody hand without moving it. "Because you had to, Steve. Lives were at stake. Did you think Marve doubted, even for once instant, that you and he weren't absolutely the best men for the job?! We'll get that b*st*rd who did this. And he'll pay. Mark my words, Steve. He'll pay dearly." Hank sighed when he saw Stoker pull a sheet over the dead man. "L.A. Engine 51. Cancel the second squad. We've one alive, one Code F at the scene. Please respond the county examiner." ##Engine 51. Baywatch is responding to secure your landing zone on the beach three hundred feet south of the pier. E.T.A of Copter Two is five minutes.## "10-4, L.A." Stanley replied. "We'll use stokes and bring him down there using a lifeguard truck." Steve tried to talk, but pain made it impossible and he cried out as numbness swept down his left leg. He lifted his head and saw that the paramedics were clamping off part of its circulation with hemostats, probing a gaping wound cratering around an embedded nail stuck in at an angle near his groin. "How ba-- bad is it?" he finally managed. Roy looked up. "You won't lose the leg. The main artery's only nicked and this nail's no longer a danger. It's in a bone. Lie back and keep still. Our ride to the hospital's on the way." Johnny Gage stayed on his feet to avoid red hot pieces of steaming metal. ##Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?## he hailed over the loud noise of Stoker's hose as he snuffed out the last of the fire sputtering on the planks around them. It was Joe Early who answered the biophone. |
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************************************************** From : Patti or Jeff or Cassidy <theaterhost@voyagerliveaction.com> Sent : Wednesday, July 11, 2007 2:16 PM Subject : Aftermath.. ##Go ahead, 51. I read you loud and clear.## replied Early. Johnny nodded at Roy to tell him that their broadcast was being received in spite of them being on the busy coastline. "Rampart, we've a conscious male in his early thirties. Victim of a close quarters pipe bomb. A second victim is a Code F from the same range due to ejecta. There are signs of primary and secondary blast injury. Outwardly, multiple superficial and penetrating wounds are evident about the arms and legs only. He is wearing protective Kevlar ballistics gear that was effective over all vital areas. We are controlling an active left upper thigh arterial hemorrhage with clamps. Stand by for vital signs..." ##Standing by, 51.## said Joe. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The silver haired doctor frowned as he wrote down his notes from the rescue call. Thinking a bit, he picked up the black phone on the wall. "Hello, this is Dr. Early. Send down a full trauma team to Emergency. I want an X-ray team, a respiratory specialist, and two surgeons. We've a blast victim coming in with a severe vascular injury. That's right. Just the one... Thanks." and he hung up the receiver. Grabbing a cup of coffee just outside the glass door of the base station, Joe waited for the red light to turn back on with a channel return from Squad 51. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Roy gestured at Lopez. "Keep up that pressure point at the femoral. Watch yourself. There's nail right there." Marco nodded, pressing his gloves down as he leaned in with most of his weight over the area without disturbing the impaled metal. Gage looked up as the gang ran oxygen and a long board over to them from the engine. Johnny shouted. "Guys, go ahead and get him on a high flow! Set it top aperature. He's still breathing okay. But wait on the spine board. We've got to get the rest of this gear off first. Be careful around this." he said, pointing to the still oozing thigh wound that he and Roy had exposed with scissors through pants material. Two used hemostat clamps stuck out of the wound, throbbing with each pulsebeat around the hidden leg artery that they were only partially constricting. "Marco, is that starting to stop yet?" he asked. Lopez coughed, not lifting up his gloved hands over the pressure point in the man's groin. "A clot's forming. But it's still bleeding a bit." Gage leaned over the jagged gash. "Good enough. We don't want to cut off total circulation. Keep at it. If you get tired, switch off with Chet." |
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Kelly smiled as he fussed with the policeman's protective helmet and face shield as he figured out how to pull it off. "Easy, Steve. I got some relief for ya." he said, holding up an oxygen mask. "Just try and slow your breathing down a little. That might be part of why you're feeling so dizzy." he said, seeing the man's eyes spinning around. He had to firmly hold Steve's face in between his knees long enough to finish applying the hissing oxygen supply. "My.. my ears are ringing... badly.." Steve coughed, still gasping. Roy got out his penlight and began a thorough head to toe assessment. "Steve, your eardrums are okay. That vertigo could be after effects of all that noise from the explosion working on you. Do you hurt anywhere else besides your arms and legs?" he said, checking his pupils, mouth, ears and nostrils for occult blood. "My...sinuses. They're burn...burning.." he said, bringing up an abraded hand. As he spoke, a trickle of pink fluid ran out of his nose. DeSoto wiped the fluid away with a 4 X 4, and handed a new one to Chet for him to use. "I know. The explosion's shaken up everything hollow inside of you. That's why I'm checking you out. How's your neck and back? Can you move your feet and hands okay?" he said, checking the red stain on the gauze square for signs of the yellowing edge of cerebral spinal fluid. There were none. Steve cleared his throat, sounding hoarse. "They're fine." he said shakily. "I still feel them." "All right. We're gonna get the rest of this stuff off." DeSoto said, patting the thick armor over Steve's chest. "But don't do any work. Let us do it for you." he told him, nodding to the other officers that it was okay to help get him out of the blast gear. "After that, I gotta cut your uniform off to see where else you've been hurt." "Oh." said Steve. He closed his eyes as he started to shake in reaction. "I'm..I'm so cold." "We'll fix that. How's your pain on a scale of one to ten?" Johnny asked. "F-Four or five." bubbled Steve, grimacing. "Think you need something for it?" Gage said as he placed the steel drum of a stethoscope onto Steve's bare chest. He listened over all areas, tipping his head down to drown out the sounds of the fire hose. "Not ..that bad. Maybe....later." he answered, his face growing blank with shock. "How's Marve?" Then he remembered. "Oh...G*d..." he said, tears falling slowly. Steve blinked, muzzy. "Chief, what are we doing in the parking lot?" The paramedics exchanged looks at the new sign of missing memory. His boss knelt around fine, splattered blood. "Steve, we're all here with ya. So's Mac, Newmy, Scott. We're not going anywhere. And I'm personally going with ya in the chopper." Roy looked up at the detective. "Tell me about this kind of bomb. We need to know the power of the energy it may have released. He may be hurt internally as well." The detective's face became more lined as he watched his man get covered up with a thick wool blanket. "Fireman, this was an L.E. It causes deflagration rather than detonation and the release of energy was relatively slow, we read it went off at under 40 kilopascal or 6 psi. That was a subsonic explosion lacking the overpressurization blast wave that characterizes H.E.s, like dynamite, TNT or C4 gel. It had practically no punch." DeSoto nodded, remembering his days serving in Viet Nam. "So nowhere near the threshold of inflicting deep cardiac or intestinal blast injury?" "Most likely not. It lost a lot of force, just sending out those shrapnel fragments." |
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"Okay, thanks. That info helps." Roy told him. Gage thought of more. "What about the propellant? Will it burn these wounds?" "No. It's gun powder. And it's already cold." replied Cap, who was standing near by, getting their stokes straps ready. "Recognize that smell?" "All I can smell is blood, Cap." Johnny said quietly as he started swabbing off a clear place on Steve's arm for an I.V. start. Roy looked up from taking a blood pressure. "Chet could you set him up on an EKG? Turn it to audible so we can hear it." "Okay." answered Kelly. "A two lead?" "No, twelve. We need the whole picture." said Roy. "Skip the limb leads. They won't stick." Roy picked up the biophone. "Rampart, Squad 51." He accepted Johnny's care notes quickly. ##Go ahead.## said Joe. "Doc, this is what we've got. Blood pressure's 86 over 54. Respirations are still labored at twenty two. Chest is wheezy in all fields. He's exhibiting temporary bouts of amnesia about recent events concerning the incident. On the left, he has a hemotympanum without perforation and bilateral tinnitus. Pupils are equal and reactive. EKG is showing.." he paused while Kelly turned the monitor so he could see it. "...mild bradycardia with that hypotension. Bleeding from the leg is now minimal." Roy reported. "Pulse is 42. Skin cool and wet. He's on O2 being actively treated for shock. Also, he's got some tinged fluid coming from both nostrils that's negative for CNS involvement." Roy clarified. "Sending you a strip, Lead XII." Early read the EKG rhythm swiftly. Then he fingered the talk button. ##After starting two large bore I.V.'s of Ringer's Lactate in both arms, and if he's negative for neck or spinal injuries, raise his head, 51. Assume the patient's wheezing is associated with a blast injury involving pulmonary contusion. Joe's voice became very serious with the next orders, making Roy's eyes widen in surprise. ##Listen carefully. A thoracic PBI produces a unique cardiovascular response, observed nowhere else in medicine, Roy, that might cause an arrest in this victim in the absence of any demonstratable physical injury to the chest.The immediate cardiovascular response to pulmonary blast injury is this decrease in heart rate, stroke volume, and strength. The normal reflexive increase in systemic vascular resistance isn't occurring. That's why his blood pressure's falling inexplicably. Be super-aggressive with those I.V.s. Bag him without an ET if he stops breathing. He should recover a good BP again and regain any consciousness loss, within 15 minutes. Use 1 mg. epinephrine I.V. push only if he goes apneic.## DeSoto looked up quickly. "Two of L.R. Push it. Faster than wide." he told Johnny. "Chet prep an ambu." Gage knelt on the I.V. bag he already had going and passed off the second to an eager policeman. "Squeeze that. Hard. As fast as it'll drip." he told him. Roy was still receiving his orders. ##Look for quaternary injuries, including thermal burns, scattered petechiae, and confluent hemorrhages over all areas above gas containing organs. Suction away hemoptysis as needed and watch for newly developing chest pain. Monitor his neurological status. Primary blast waves cause concussions without a direct blow to the head. That might explain his inability to stay focused on events. Splint his left leg and pelvis and transport by air a.s.a.p. Keep me posted on any further downgrade and we'll manage it together, step by step.## said Joe. ##Contact me every five minutes en route with new vitals.## "10-4, doc. Aggressive fluid and respiratory support. Load and go. Squad 51, out." As Roy hung up the phone, Steve's eyes fluttered shut. "Johnny..." DeSoto warned. "Steve?" asked the detective in alarm. "Guys...!" he pointed urgently. |
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Gage pulled the blanket down and set both hands on the wounded police officer's stomach. "He's breathing. But it's shallow. Chet, help him a little on the ins. Don't overdo it. He's developed lung bruising." he said as he re-covered their patient. "Pulse's still slowing." Kelly said, taking a quick carotid to make sure it was still being felt despite the visual and audio on the monitor. Roy glanced at him. "It's gonna happen. Keep a look out for PEA on the quick view. If he slips into it and loses that beat, yell. Do you remember how that arrythmia presents before it takes effect?" Kelly nodded, keeping up his slow, steady assistance bagging on the unconscious man. "Yeah, you showed me several different kinds on paper strips last month." "I did? Okay." Roy rubbed his sweaty forehead in hurried concentration. "That was smart thinking." Roy hurried as he began to pack up their gear. "Cap, Mike. Carry him head end higher once we get him in the stokes. We'll splint that bad leg once we're in the air." "Want an O.P. in?" Kelly asked them, reaching a couple of fingers into his turnout jacket for the pack of oral airways he always kept there. "No, the doc says he's waking up in a few. Says this is just a temporary reaction." DeSoto told him. He regarded their patient with a close eye. "He does seem to be managing well enough with just that head tilt. How does he feel?" "Easy in-s. No problems." Chet said, as he watched the man's chest rises along with the placement of his fingers over the mask of the bag valve resuscitator. He repositioned them lightly to stop a sudden face leak. "Kelly.." DeSoto said, dissatisfied. "..do you want the detective to help you? Looks like you might need two people there." "All right, I can use him." agreed Kelly quickly. "He's shivering a bit." "I'm here. Right here." said the worried chief. "Just like CPR class?" he said, taking over Chet's finger-cupped mask hold. "Yep." said Chet. "Use two fingers to lift up his jaw as you do that. It works better. Grab the mask like you guys hold a shot gun, in a double grip." he shared, as he began to use both hands to squeeze the breathing bag. "See?" |
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"Yeah.. yeah.." said the cop when he felt an easier flow of oxygen begin to move through Steve's wider opened windpipe. "I got it." Cap spoke, telling the rest of the worried, still armored policemen to step back as he and the rest of the gang lifted Steve off the wet pier planks and into the wire basket. "Thanks, fellas, we've got him from here. He's going to Rampart Emergency. Marco, replace yourself with a couple of sandbags, then help us carry him to the pier's entryway. Is he and the gear all in and strapped down? Okay, guys, let's move him out!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joe Early abandoned the bomb squad man into the hands of his surgeons. He soon returned to the front desk by Dixie's stool. He smiled when he saw Roy and Johnny reassembling their spent resuscitation tank with fresh parts as they kneeled nearby. They were also recoiling the wires on the EKG monitor back into reassessible potability inside of its defibrillator case. "Hey, Roy, Johnny, Chet. Nice job on our patient." "He's gonna make it?" Gage asked in an incredulous tone. "You doubt your acting physician's direct prognosis?" he chuckled. "Of course he's gonna make it. That explosion was an L.E. Those only kill with the debris it manages to fling out." "That's a relief. It was pretty touch and go for a while there once we were airborne." said DeSoto. "For a few seconds, Chet, Johnny and I thought we had actually lost his pulse." "That was just his further slowing bradycardia. Bound to skip a beat or two at the height of its effect. He didn't lose color at all, did he?" Early challenged in good humor. "No. That's what finally clued us off that he wasn't shockable." Roy smiled. "That and the heartbeat Johnny heard apically." "Glad you weren't fooled into attempting compressions. Our man's got enough healing to do without adding cracked ribs to the mix." "So what's the next step for him? Past that surgery to repatch his leg artery?" Johnny wondered. Joe shrugged. "A couple of chest x-rays for sure, eventually. Blast lung produces a characteristic “butterfly” pattern on films. His next risks are systemic air embolism, and free radical–associated injuries such as thrombosis, lipoxygenation, and disseminated intravascular coagulation." "Fat balls, air bubbles and clots in his tissues and circulatory system?" Gage wondered. Then he gave out a long sigh of sympathy. "Yes. Those are secondary complications. He may even develop ARDS as a result of his direct lung injury, which has turned out to be something called acute gas embolism, a form of pulmonary barotrauma. The air and fat emboli that have broken free into his lungs, might later occlude blood vessels in the brain or spinal cord." "Sounds nasty." said Kelly. "It's like he got the bends from a firecracker." "Apt analogy. Things can get bad. But I have every confidence that he won't reach a stroke or paralysis endstage. We got his pressure back up fast enough and you guys did an absolutely terrific job by not jostling him unnecessarily during flight." Early told them, pleased. Roy accepted the compliment gracefully, as did the others. But he was still worried. "What about his intestines? I didn't hear active peristalsis." Joe held up his hand to reassure him. "Abdominal injuries from explosions may be occult, showing up only days later. Serial examinations are often required. But in his case, that air by the sea was a very poor conductor of blast-wave energy. It was too thick to push very far. In fact, any close quarters pressure changes he might have experienced colon wise had to work through all that tough body armor first. His blood work's coming back good, all things considering. I think they're just in spasm for now, because he's still cold. It won't be long before he reawakens in Recovery under heated blankets, and when he does, they'll most likely follow suit." Gage relaxed. "I really thought he was goner, doc. He's my first bombing victim." "I hope you'll never see another case." said Joe. "They are the most complexly injured patient that any paramedic ever encounters." Roy agreed, regarding his partner with a look of deep thought and a little sorrow. "I hated seeing that outside of a war zone.." he broke off, "Incendiaries are a horrific way to maim and destroy people." |
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Gage set his hand on DeSoto's shoulder, remembering his war vet status only belatedly. He didn't look at Roy's face, offering him a bit of privacy for the emotions that were still twisting on his features. He changed the subject by asking Joe another question. "How's Dr. Morton doing? Is he any better?" Joe looked up from his coffee cup and replied... ************************************************** From : patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> Sent : Wednesday, July 11, 2007 11:01 PM Subject : A Little Sugar and Cream Never Hurt Anybody.. "Well, I don't know the latest, since I've been filling in for Kel and Dixie down here, all night. But I can tell you that--" "He's awake, on soft foods, wiggling all of his fingers and toes, and asking for visitors.." said a happy, husky voice approaching from down the hall. "Dixie!" said Roy, Chet, Johnny and Joe joyfully. Gage gave her a hug. "Boy, am I relieved. So he's over his crisis?" "Yep." she said, accepting the embrace. "Any further complications?" asked Roy. "Nope." she replied, returning Roy's smile. "Who's Dr. Morton?" asked Chet. Gage burst out laughing. "Chet, you mean to tell me that you can't remember the man who got you started on the great crash diet craze?" He let Dixie go, and offered her a cup of coffee. Chet shook his head. Johnny tried again. |
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"Remember when you tried to starve our whole shift half to death? It was about the same week Cap almost got electrocuted on that wire." Chet shook his head a second time. Gage got real bugged, thinking Chet was up to some funny business. "Are you kidding me about this?" he asked suspiciously. Kelly shook his head once more, exactly like the first two. "Okay, I believe ya." said Johnny, putting both hands into his pockets. Roy sighed, rubbing his chin, still studying Chet who saundered over to the drinking fountain to wet his whistle. "All those figs he ate back then, must have wiped out his memory or something, eh, Johnny?" "No, maybe WE did, after we glommed onto him for inflicting that diet of his on us." Johnny scoffed, good naturedly. But then he snapped his fingers, getting an idea. "Say, Roy? Let's see if he remembers Mike after his memory's jogged a little, shall we? Dix? Is Morton still in the same room?" "No, he's been moved to the general floor and out of ICU. He's in 309 East." McCall replied. They started off for the elevators. She stopped them. "Wait a minute. You guys don't have a 'get well fast' card, gift, or anything to offer Morton yet. Why go right now? He'll be better rested tomorrow." she reasoned. Gage leaned backwards into Dixie's ear. "Yeah, but tomorrow Chet won't be here to see him. Get my point?" "No." she answered truthfully, looking blank. Johnny humored her, indicating to Chet and Roy that he was heading for the souvenir shop. "We'll think of something. You're welcome to come along with us." "Nope. For today, I'm his nurses' supervisor. He doesn't get to see me again unless he's dying a second time and I'm pushing in his crash cart." she quipped. "Once was bad enough." Roy scratched his head. "This is a little unrelated but...How come doctors can treat other doctors, and nurses other doctors, but paramedics can't treat their own family members?" Dixie made a face. "Personal involvement?" Joe laughed. "Ah, I believe the key word is intimate personal involvement." McCall chuckled. "Well, that doesn't wash. Kel and I were involved when I broke my ankle six years ago." Gage grinned. "Yeah, but he wasn't the one who reset your bone. Dr. Rivers did that. Kel only came in there to gloat." Dixie frowned. "Don't remind me. I hated every minute of being a patient in my own department." Roy looked at her. "Think of it from Dr. Morton's perspective. He's got it worse. He's going to be a patient in his own hospital for at least week or more." Dixie grew thoughtful. "Hmm. Maybe I can rub that in a little." Joe smacked her arm. "Don't you dare. He's still a sick man." McCall compromised. "Okay. I won't. I'll wait until he's filling out the discharge papers that only I'll be bringing him." Roy smirked. "You're evil." "No, just playful." she corrected evenly. "Gotta make up for all the gruffness he's dished out on my nurses today one way or another. They aren't standing up to him one iota. I've been watching." Joe sighed. "That's because he's a doctor." he teased in a whisper. |
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Dixie held up a finger. "No, it's because he's Dr. Morton. There's a difference." she explained carefully. " 'Bedside Brusk', that's what they call his personality." "Can't say that's not true.." Joe admitted honestly. "But he's still a h*ll of a good resident and I'm glad I work with him." "Uh, huh. You work WITH him. Not under him." McCall clarified. "He's a whole different man if you're living in our shoes." she said about herself and the other nurses on her staff. Joe smiled, realizing he was treading in increasingly hot water. He glanced at Roy and Johnny. "Keep it short. He's still tired most likely." Gage started giggling. "We will. See you later. Come on, Chet. Start breaking out your wallet. I wanna pool our money together to buy Mike a gift. Ah, ah, ah.. Before you open your mouth, don't worry.." he added, fending off Chet's not yet formed complaint. "We'll both pay you back before the shift's over, okay?" "Okay, but I still don't know this Morton guy." Kelly said. "Oh, you will." said Johnny. "Boy, will you!" he laughed. Roy agreed. "In a couple of seconds." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A quiet knock at the door alerted Dr. Morton to open his eyes. He tried to clear his throat when he remembered yet again that the drain tube was still threading out of his back around the sutures. He decided not to move again. But the well aimed pillow had silenced the EKG monitor that had been bleeping over his bed. Mike had been sweaty and panting after that little goal was accomplished, but he was VERY proud of himself for the silence that he had won. Until now. He began to grumble but then stopped himself when the knock repeated even softer than before. "Come in?" he replied reflexively, finally recognizing that the raps were friendly and not at all medically efficient like those of the nurses caring for him. "Dr. Morton?" asked Roy through the crack in the door. "Are you awake?" Mike sat up in his bed, grimacing a little. "Yeah. Come in. All three of you." he gasped around his nasal cannula. |
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"Dr. Morton, how are you feeling?" Gage began when they had entered. "Fellas, please, call me Mike." he smiled. "I'm a patient now." "Okay." Johnny smiled warmly, still being quiet. It didn't work very well when a brown paper bag behind his bag rustled loudly from where he had it hidden. "Is that Chester Kelly?" Morton trickled, squinting a little. "Yeah. Uh,.. hi." said Kelly, truly acting like he didn't know Morton. "Don't you remember me? I turned you into a real bonafide health nut by accident." Mike said to him. "Really? Well, isn't that kind of like what a doctor is supposed to do for his patient?" Chet asked, guessing what their relationship had been. Johnny smacked Kelly on the arm. "Chet, you weren't his patient. He was your advisor, at the station. You two discussed nothing but food for an entire hour in the bunkroom according to Cap." "Doesn't ring a bell. But I'm really glad to meet you now. Man, the other day, I thought you were a goner." he said, leaning over the bed as he held out his hand. Morton grinned, taking the offered handshake into his own."Sorry to disappoint you then, Chester B. Guess these two paramedic boys are just too d*mned efficient to play the sudden death game very often, huh?" Chet confided in him. "Yeah, they don't like getting halos on their patients. So,...You got all your toes and fingers back." "I sure did. No paralysis whatsoever. See?" he said wiggling them under the blankets. "But seriously, fellas. It's my turn to say that I'm grateful I'm still alive." he told them. "Roy, Johnny. I heard what you guys did for me this morning when I stopped breathing." Gage shrugged, crossing his arms respectfully. "We didn't do much. We just... took over for the machine for a while until your seizure was knocked out." "I would have died." Mike said significantly. "Sure the code blue team would have eventually brought me around. But not easily if my heart had gone out as well. And all that CPR you prevented could have redamaged my spinal fracture site. Then where would I be?" "I don't know." said Roy, not willing to brag, even as he smiled. "I probably wouldn't be a doctor any more. All that motion would have severed my spinal cord, Kel said. He just saw my X-rays a couple of minutes ago." Mike shared. "So, please, accept my thanks... from the bottom of my heart. Literally." Roy and Johnny were struck speechless, very touched. "No problem, Mike." Chet said for the both of them. Then he reached back and snagged the bag Johnny still held out of sight. "Hey, did you see what we brought ya?" Kelly asked. "You're not restricted to just clears are you?" "Nah, I'm up to soft food already." "Good, 'cause you're gonna love what we brought ya." Chet said, dumping out the contents onto Mike's bed covers. Mike's lit up eyes, then fell into a look of confusion when he saw what his gift items were. "Three eggs, a can of evaporated milk, a salt shaker, a jar of strawberry preserves and a half pound of sugar?" "Oh, and don't forget these." Johnny said eagerly, handing over a wooden spoon and a porcelain mixing bowl that Roy had been hiding. "What are these, boys? Are you sure you brought the right bag?" he laughed. "Sure we did." said Johnny eagerly. "Haven't you ever heard of homemade ice cream before?" Morton rubbed a scab on his nose left over from the sea chafing he had suffered. "Yeah. But I don't see any ice here, do you?" |
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For a few seconds, Roy, Johnny and Chet's faces fell into ones of deep dismay but then, just as quick they dropped all pretense, letting Dr. Morton off the hook. "Got ya. Of course we didn't forget the chilly stuff. How could we? That wouldn't have been very smart." Morton looked at them expectantly, lacing his fingers together. "So,..where it is?" Gage snapped his fingers. "Gimme your pillow case." he ordered, grinning. "I beg your pardon?" Morton sputtered. "Your pillowcase." Roy repeated, looking highly amused. Shrugging, Mike lifted up his head and started to grab the soft bundle under his head. "No, not that one. Hand us the one you're not using." Chet said with duh, written all over his voice. Mike sighed and did so. "This is crazy, absolutely nuts." "Not really. It's called..." said Chet expansively. "Science.." he finished mysteriously. He went on in a voice sounding like an absent minded professor. "As liquid evaporates, it gets cold. This effect, familiar to anyone who has been wet, happens because it takes energy to turn a liquid into a gas, and that energy comes from heat drawn out of the liquid. How that interaction works is one of the most complicated subjects in science, but what’s important, is that it can be used to make.... homemade ice cream." "I don't get it." Morton gestured, crossing his arms together around his shoulder cast as best as he could, in puzzlement. "Oh, you will. You will." said Gage. "Shh, I think Chet's on a roll here." he whispered, sotto voce'. Chet went on as if their little exchange had never taken place. "Now, you can’t just let cream evaporate and expect to get ice cream. No... Water in the open air won’t freeze from evaporation alone. But evaporating pressurized liquid carbon dioxide, draws so much energy out of it, that about a third ends up frozen solid." he concluded. |
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