*****************************************************
Subject: The Basics
Date: Mon August 31,
2009 11:01 am
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Cap eyeballed Joe as they all
gathered into the communications room.
"Chief?" he asked, prompting.
The silver haired Rorchek
nodded. "Okay, guess we won't be having
that drill in the morning, boys. Time for seat of the pants
shortcuts." And
he eyed up the Zetron. "We're so far, still only at Alert 1."
"Which is?"
Stoker wondered.
"An aircraft is being reported as having a problem inbound." Joe replied,
rolling
out a large map of the airport. "Study this, we'll be framing our
vehicles around any scene if it
happens upwind and uphill if possible. All
the runways are tilted down east to west to drain precipitation."
Joe told
Station 51's crew. "So remember your orientation along the margins."
Then he cast
his eye on the ever present weather radar over his desk. He
sighed heavily. "It had to be pink. And
it's coming in fast."
Marco frowned in confusion.
Roy leaned in and explained it. "That's
ice. Radar blue or green, is snow or rain."
Lopez raised his eyebrows. "I've never noticed pink
before."
Martelli snorted. "That's because you live in California. In
the rest of the country,
we know what winter can do really well."
"Shielded, eh?" Hallie chuckled good naturedly about
their guests.
"Only in meteorology." Lopez smirked, shrugging.
But then, the seriousness of
their situation wilted the youth off of his
face. "Ice is probably like oil this time of year. Slippery..
and-"
"...heavy." Ted Rorchek piped up. "It weighs down all aircraft. Even those
still in the
air. Workers have to use chemicals to free it from plane wing
and tail flaps constantly during a sleetfall.
And that's what this is." he said,
pointing to the cancerous pink building over their part of Long
Island.
Harris looked worried.
"It's the worst it can be. I'd rather it be harmless snow. That
only clogs landing
gear on actual touchdowns and shortens pilot visibility." Rags said. "They
can
fly completely blind with their instruments. But not with a couple of tons
of extra weight building
up on top of them."
"Not fun. I got the picture." Cap said grimly. "Joe, my men and I are worse
than
green at all of this. How are we going to team up for a response?" Hank asked
the chief.
"One of yours to one of mine. Paired. Except for four. I'd like Mr. DeSoto
and Mr. Gage working
together with Hallie and Ted in case there's a triage
or search and rescue situation. They can all
watch out for each other and still
work effectively as Hazmat firefighters, too, as an alternate."
Joe decided.
"Agreed." Cap nodded. "How about me?"
"Act as Safety for me. I'll be the Incident
Commander if there's a crash. But I
promise you, we're not going to be alone for this. I'm calling
Holbrook now." he
said, picking up the phone to their sister stations in Patchogue. "They're not
wired
to the tower through a Zetron panel like we are."
All the firefighters got to work preparing
partnerships and memorizing the map.
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The corporate commuter
jet CN6541seemed packed with people from nose cone
to tail. Businessman Don Estridge leaned over to
his associate partner and laughed.
"Only twelve of us bought onto this trip, eh?" he joked to Christian
Meier. "If I get
another elbow in my face, I'm gonna strangle that cocktail server." he grumbled,
still
rubbing his face where another businessman had bumped him in the turbulence
they were experiencing.
Meier grinned ruefully. "Free liquor. And we don't have to drive. Chauffers, remember?
If I wasn't
going home to the wife and kids, I'd be snockered, too, along with the rest
of them. Shush on the
waitress, Don, she's only doing her job."
"For the tips." Estridge scowled, trying to read his
newspaper over the jostling they
were receiving from the flight.
"So were we a few hours ago.
And we're rich. Only our company could have struck
that deal and you know it." Meier insisted, youthfully
passionate.
Don rubbed a few weary fingers through his greasy, thinning hair. "All I know is my
flipping stomach. Aren't you the least bit motion sick by now?"
"Me? No. I've a stomach of iron.
I'm used to flying into this airport. They got land sea
breezes that'll curl your hair sometimes."
Christian smirked as he checked out how
well his blond Superman look was holding in the glint of a
chrome cigarette lighter.
"So how far out are we? Seems like things are taking forever." the
older Estridge
groused, wiping off his sweating face with a hankerchief.
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Christian studied his expensive watch. "Hmm. I can't see ocean down there, but it's
six thirty five.
We should be landing in just under ten minutes. Tops. I promise." he
grinned. "I found our ace pilot
myself. He's good. He's real good."
"Tell that pilot my stomach wants him to level us--- Ohhh!"
Then Don paled.
"Don?" Christian asked, dropping all pretense of humor. "What's the matter? You
aren't kidding. You're really sick! Tell me what's wrong. I- I'll get a doctor. We've gotta
have one
on board, you know how attracted they are to the stock market. They follow
us like moths to the--"
Suddenly there was a scream. "Fire!" Another female voice took up the panicked cry.
"In the bathroom!
Somebody help!"
Estridge groaned and suddenly began to gasp. "Oh, great. Just what I need. A BBQ."
Then he stiffened up in his seat. "Meier, you get that doctor. I don't think this is
indigestion."
he winced. "Ah,... my chest!"
Christian was torn between wanting to rush over there to the sudden
excitement at
the front, or stay with his friend. He decided to let the eight other men in suits handle
the lit cigarette in the garbage problem. One already had out a fire extinguisher. Meier
gripped
Don's hand and found it cold, clammy. He made a decision. "Geez, Don. You're
really not good. I'll
be right back. Don't go anywhere.." he stammered, climbing and then
almost falling out of his bucket
seat, adding his own emergency to the first one. "Hey!
Somebody listen! Is there a doctor here? I've
got a man most likely having a heart
attack in 13B!"
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**************************************************
Subject: Tempi...
From: patti k (pattik1@hotmail.com)
Sent: Fri 9/04/09 1:03 AM
In the deep gloom of the ice sleeting sky, a military jet appeared
like an
even darker smudge just out of range of the distressed business jet.
Its pilot levelled
off fifty feet from a wingtip and slightly below CN6541and
attempted to open immediate communications.
First it waggled wings
to assess the jet pilot's physical condition in that universal aviation speak
of howdy.
The corporate cessna waggled back and her emergency air masked flier
gave only
a modest thumbs up about flight ability through the windscreen.
The military pilot nodded and
then aimed a light gun up through his plexiglass
cockpit, flashing colors.
The corporate
pilot brought one out likewise in the form of a modified flashlight
with green, red and white filters.
Morse code ruled the next few minutes mixed
with FAA color signal sequences which shared volumes
in moments.
When they were done, the military pilot pulled clear for a bit and radioed home with
his findings.##Alpha Nine to ISP. Contact made. Pilot is still in control, but there's
been some
damage to navigation and her onboard radio due to an electrical short.
That resulted in a fire in
the biff, now extinguished. Air quality's fair in the passenger
compartment. But there's another
complication, a medical emergency on board,
a man whose current condition's unknown at this time.
The pilot doesn't know for sure
about him since he had to seal off the flight cabin for safety because
of smoke.##
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Airport Manager Theresa Ryder patched the incoming audio report through to the fire
department's
intercom so that they could hear the live transmission on delayed play
back. ##ISP: We read you, Nine.
Think you can guide our jet down visually? We've
cleared runway 24 for your use and clearing your
immediate airspace is next.
Equipment is ready.##
##Roger that, ISP. That's up to their pilot
to see if he can follow me. I copy, it's a go.##
reported the military man. ##Our current position
matches your radar.##
##Mark.## said Theresa, locking down the latest screen grab from her live
controls.
##I confirm. Radar is clear and active. Good luck.##
## I'll try and swing back to
take a look at the passengers, maybe I can learn a little
more about their sick man by looking into
the plane.##
The military ace eased back and leveled even with the wing of CN6541. Inside,
he
saw pandemonium through a haze of diminishing smoke. A pair of businessmen were
crouched on the floor
near an empty seat and the pilot could see a back bobbing up
and down. He raced quickly to the front
of the commuter into talk position and flashed
an urgent message for the flier to follow him as quickly
as possible. Then he radioed the
ground once more with another update.
Hesitantly, with sluggish
dips and turns, the mid sized cessna obeyed without question.
Theresa received a last transmission
from the military pilot that made her eyes bulge
out in disbelief, about the CPR. But then she got
to work. Her fingers danced over her
computer as she composed an automated notification alert. Then
swiftly, Ryder activated
the second alarm on the Zetron remotely to the control tower in an electronic
order, for
them to share with her firefighters.
Then she picked up the red phone. "Tower,
alert TRACON to our emergency on my
authorization. Call their regional FAA Control Center and have
them step up helping
us divert all traffic well away from ISLIP. We have about a minute before they're
in
possible impact range over inhabited neighborhoods."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe Rorchek looked up as a brassy klaxon sounded on the wall. His display screen
changed to having
just one graphic on it, which he pointed out to the others. "We roll.
Double mission. Possible preventative
crash and then a resuscitation to follow.
Move out!" he shouted. "Three miles is less than three
minutes."
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**************************************************
Subject : Lull Before The Storm..
From: patti
k (pattik1@hotmail.com)
Sent: Tue 9/08/09 10:41 AM
Quickly, both gangs outfitted in Hazmat
silver with turned on
scba air inside their suits as they piled into the massive
semi automated
airport apparatuses and strapped in.
Roy, Johnny, Hallie and Ted climbed into the smallish
red
Fire Rescue truck laden with the medical and extrication
equipment and they all roared out into the
growing storm.
Already, in the distance, they could see all three Holbrook
fire station companies'
lights rushing down a busy avenue
toward one of the airport's outer gates by the guard shack.
Joe Rorchek went live on helmet speakers, handy talkie and
intercom. ##Truck 2 lay full foam with
your under turrets on the
downwind leg side. Don't lose any speed. Truck three, up
the middle.
Truck four, terminal side opposite, same thing.
Stagger for safety and overlap your foam application.
I don't
want to see any bare pavement. We've time enough to do
one pass before we have to abandon.##
he ordered.
##Holbrook, sub stations 1 and 2, position mid point in case
they miss R24 completely.
Holbrook HQ send your ambulances
to the end of the runway off field. The rest of you join up with
us
upwind. Direction is easterly at twenty with ice. No deviations.
Tower is tracking.##
Rapidly, their configuration was laid out along the runway just
as the Code Red trucks finished blanketing
the entire runway
course in thick, smothering foam over the icy glaze the weather
was depositing.
Chief Rorchek barked final orders when they reached the end of
the runway. ##All right, clear.
Clear. Clear! CR : Regroup midway
flanking. Let's hope for a bilateral flame out. Everybody, keep
all your
spots on the foam strip to show the pilot. He's gonna have to
make some adjustments with
flaps while on that.##
An eerie silence returned as the hissing of the last foam nozzles
died
away to leave just the sound of gusting winds and rustling sleet
pellets that were raining down onto
their windshields. The bloody haze
from their emergency lights cast far into the night, creating
a surreal
bubble of warm color, almost like fire, which stained the illuminated
foam on the runway
pink with light.
In pairs, all the cojoined silver suited firefighters gathered in front of
their
bulky idling trucks whose automatic aerial turrets stood primed
and ready, already dripping with
foam.
Joe Rorchek issued instructions globally to their guest team.
## When she comes to a
complete stop, these are your orders.
Nobody gets out until all exterior fire is extinguished. Then
place
your ladders upwind near the evacuation slides when they deploy
and get ready to enter and
assist people escaping. Busses are
on their way to shelter those walking and the ambulances will
handle
the more seriously wounded. Our responsibility is fire suppression first,
rescue second,
then medical treatment last once the plane is fully
contained and clear of all the immediate fire
and chemical fuel
hazards. ##
Nearby, Chet Kelly could see Roy, Johnny, Hallie and Ted
in
their silver suits bustling about the medical truck, preparing
drag and triage gear. He found himself
moving a little bit
away from his own assigned truck with the biggest Rorchek
brother, closer
to where those in command stood. He saw they
were watching the sky with night binoculars, their handy
talkies
at the ready in plastic bags, sitting on the hood of their vehicle.
One was tuned directly
to the Tower's frequency, on air
with CN6541. The air traffic controllers sounded casual and
everyday,
like a walk in the park. But the plane to which they
were directing hails was utterly silent. Its
positional coordinates
were being called in by the military pilot continually.
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A sonic boom splintered the night and pushed against the
firefighter's silver suit skins. It was
a second fast military jet patrolling
the air space immediately over the airport to make sure all
other flights were indeed well away from the area with their own
portable radar. He was completely
invisible to the eye, but manifested
to those below with sound concussions whenever he turned into
a new
vector.
A random glance at the highway to the south showed Kelly that
drivers were
beginning to see the signs of trouble at the airport through
all the red lights. They were starting
to slow into gawker traffic jams as
they passed by.
Kelly suddenly felt very very insignificant.
He mumbled.
"This is big, Cap. This is really--"
Stanley heard Chet take in a very big gasp
of nerves and he
heard fear choking his voice for the first time in all his years
working with
Kelly. He pulled his binoculars down and glanced
up in surprise. "Chet. Why are you away from-?"
Chet started almost whispering into his hazmat helmet hood.
"Cap...I don't know if I can stand
here... just waiting... while I watch
all of those people .....crash." His voice broke. He sounded
sick.
Cap took in one long look at Chet and gestured him aside while
the others waited at their
positions with their foam and water
trucks surrounding the runway that they had coated with retardant.
"Okay, Chet. Here's the trick." And he waved at Martelli to take
over observing for him. Al jumped
down from the control cab of
his truck to take a place next to Joe on the concrete.
"You reach
a point where there's so much dog doo pouring
down the pipe that you can't worry or panic any longer
because
you have no choices to make. You just deal with what's immediate.
Tactical rather than
strategic level. If the tactical gets too much,
I default to operational. Does that make sense?"
"No." said a very subdued and quiet Kelly.
"It will today. As a captain, I've faced enormity like
this situation a few
times before in my career. It...I.. hey. Quit snowballing." And he turned
Chet
away from the growing lights in the sky to shield him.
Chet just stared blankly at Cap, not seeing,
but so focused that
there was as yet no steam clouding his faceplate. He was licking dry lips.
Finally,
he spoke. "What am I supposed to do here?" Kelly sighed,
scared. "I don't know what to do.."
Stanley radiated confidence and calm so strongly that it made
Kelly blink in recognition. "Basically,
you do what you can." Cap
said softly and placed a comforting glove on Chet's shoulder.
"You
let go and put yourself on autopilot."
Kelly bristled, the fear turning to anger.
"That's not
very d*mned funny." Chet said, firm and sharp, trying to
break free of Cap's firm hold.
Stanley
didn't look away, nor did he release Chet's shoulder. He held on.
"Chet, I wasn't trying to be crude.
It's a fact. Rely on your instincts, and
they'll never guide you wrong. You are far from being a
rookie who's
still dumb enough to make any mistakes that'll really matter. We'll get
through this.
And we've got good people here with us who know what
they're doing. Follow them like you've followed
me at home."
Doubt marched thickly over Chet's features and he looked utterly lost.
Stanley
double checked Kelly's suit fastenings and scba flow almost
tenderly, like a father. "I'm so with
you, pal. You know I am. So let's
get what needs to be done taken care of, as it comes. Okay?"
Kelly, still pale and stiff, just nodded. But Cap saw that he was no
longer so afraid.
Cap
smiled.
"All right then. Go take your position by Chris. He's looking for ya.
Looks like our plane's
about to land."
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**************************************************
Subject: The Reach for Earth...
From: patti
k (pattik1@hotmail.com)
Sent: Tue 9/08/09 1:08 PM
Roy DeSoto, Johnny Gage stood quietly by
Hallie Green and Ted
Rorchek. There was very little left to say. Plans had been made as to
how
they'd maneuver backboards or scoop stretchers down the narrow
airplane aisle. For the arrested man,
they decided to just grab him and
go if there were no signs of injuries in any of the other passengers.
Johnny asked the next question. "Is there a defibrillator on the plane?"
"No." said Ted. "We'll
be lucky if they were able to even get their medical
oxygen going. They probably didn't knowing there
was an electrical fire
on board."
"He doesn't need it." Roy said simply. "He's not using up
anything yet,
only his brain is. Room air's plenty if they're working on him."
"That's if
the air's still breathable. Even if that fire's out inside, toxins are
building up. Plastics probably
melted down in the wiring spaces from its
origin point." Gage said, being realistic.
"Hull
titantium burns through in less than a minute if things get
hot enough. Expect toxic blackouts. A
lot of them." Ted told them.
"But there's no chance of flashovers if there are holes in the fuselage."
"Yeah, but what about the air that'll be let back inside once those hatches
blow open? That'll
be first on the flight crew's mind. To get out."
Ted looked grim.
"Any sparks'll recatch. It'll
be up to us to put out the new fire with our
hand hoses. So spray indiscriminately over people and
everything.
Only then can we extricate the victims." Ted said, no nonsense.
"Once a cabin starts
to burn, it burns fast and can get to fatal levels of gas
and heat in less than a minute. There'll
be a team assigned to get the pilot out.
Don't bother with him. He's locked in. I've staked down
our triage tarp so it
won't blow away in the backprop wash. Ready?" the younger Rorchek brother
asked his three paramedic companions.
"I got your back.." said Hallie. She looked collected in
her yellow turnout.
"Yes."
"Yes.." said Johnny and Roy at the same time as they spied the
lengthening
plume of light coming from the wobbly inbound airplane and the steadier one
from the
military escort.
"Okay.. I'll indicate which hatch to go into first once they open. It takes
practice
to see how the wind'll wrap the smoke around the airplane. People won't go into
any if
it's blowing into their faces so watch me close. Hallie, you're with Roy on
a reel line. I'll take
Johnny here as my anchor." Then Ted looked down at his silver
covered feet. "If none of those hatches
move thirty seconds after halting stop, we'll
pry ourselves in. For that will mean no one's been
left in any condition to do so for
themselves. Be careful of how you're pushing. They may pile up
against the door."
Roy grimaced at the image. "Right."
A klaxon began to sound from the
control tower and a steady green flashing
signal began from a light gun from their observation deck
located sixty feet up.
It was aimed entirely at the distressed pilot. ::Clear to proceed.:: the signal
said.
Then the Control Tower Supervisor's voice began to speak on flight frequency to
the business
plane through the monitoring radio on Cap and Joe's truck hood.
##CN, do you copy?## hailed Gene Skidwell.
Blessedly, the pilot's voice suddenly broke through. His voice sounded
hoarse, and he was coughing.
## *cough* Tower, Cessna six five four one
heavy out here in the rain. Feels good. ##
Gene
Skidwell's relief was palpable. ##CN 6541, copy heavy. Regional tower
one seven left. Cleared to
land. Wind zero nine zero at five gusts to two zero.##
The business pilot came in staticky.. ##No
before landing check. No time to-- *choke*#
Skidwell forced a focusing point. ##Landing gear?##
The pilot replied quickly. ##Down, three green.##
The military jet reaffirmed that report
with a visual check out of his flightglass.
##Confirmed.##
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Gene Skidwell acted as a remote first officer to the hard breathing pilot to calm
him with familiar
protocol. ##Flaps stats?##
CN6541 answered. ##Thirty three, thirty three, green light.##
Gene grinned, satisfied as he spied the plane finally in his binoculars.
##You got good legs, don't
ya?"
The pilot coughed again. ##I don't have a DME on mine.##
Skidwell confirmed the malfunction.
##You haven't had it for the last five
minutes. Wash that off a little bit.## he joked.
The
pilot chuckled but then he strangled. "Ah, this smoke.. it's gagging m--##
##Concentrate CN6541.
## Gene ordered. He readjusted the gain on his
emergency frequency to make sure his voice was being
heard.
## Yes.. I am.. Uh,...a thousand feet. Seven sixty two in the baro.##
Gene radiated
confidence. ##They're already called out for you.## he said
about the fire department and emergency
services.
The pilot sighed. ##All right.##
##Watch your speed...## encouraged Skidwell.
##Touch down now..##
Tensely, the moments crawled by as the plane began to sink lower towards
the dark ground, leaving the military jet above as a cap and speed double check.
## ..idle! ##
shouted the pilot suddenly, feeling a sudden slip.
Gene stayed calm.
##You're gonna lose it
all of a sudden.## the tower supervisor warned, about the foam.
##... there it is. *cough*..
## came the pilot's weaker, stressed voice. ##Feels
okay.. ## Then,... ##Ahhhh!*gasp*##
Horribly,
the plane bounced up again and lurched, tipping toward the fire trucks,
its landing gear spewing ice,
foam and steam as the pilot desperately tried to brake
on the surfactant.
Skidwell ate his
microphone. ##Hang on to the son of a b*tch!##
## What's your vee ref? ##
There was a sharp
snap then and the pilot's channel went absolutely dead.
"Not now!" shouted Gene.
All eyes
in the tower shot toward the runway as the military pilot dipped lower and activated
his loud speaker
over the still half and half airborne, bouncing airplane. ##Runway heading:
059 magnetic, 045 true
239 magnetic, 225 true.... Obstruction: 38 ft. tree, ahead1340 ft.
at end of runway. You are 350
ft. left of centerline, but on course. There's a 16:1 slope
to clear. Really deploy your flaps to
compensate. Relax your lift! You're already past
the updraft from the powerplant! Good. Now.. Brake!
Brake! Brake!##
Gene held his storm interference dead mic and issued the same order fervently
as he heard the military pilot's takeover broadcast come through his fire department
channel.
"...Brake d*mn you. You're down..." he whispered as well, wishing and hoping.
**************************************************
Subject: Crack An Egg..
From: patti k (pattik1@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thu 9/10/09 1:34 PM
Gravity
claimed its own at a desperate voluntary drop in velocity as CN6541
finally hugged the Earth and stayed
there despite her high momentum.
## Let's go, people! ## shouted Chief Joe Rorchek to his fire
crews monitoring
the handy talkie operations channel as the brake roaring, tire rolling airplane
flashed by their positions. ##We're following, but not too close. There's still
the small chance
of a flip! Avoid their backwash.##
Sirens peeling, the four light flashing rescue apparatuses
lumbered onto both
the runway's edges, rushing hurriedly for their still rough taxiing target. They
were assisted by two of Holbrook's and a pair of their ambulances.
Above, the military jet
received orders from a superior at his base on the far
end of the tarmack. ##Alpha Nine, return to
base. Clear the aerodrome.##
##Roger that..## replied the jet pilot who had escorted the corporate
plane home.
Alpha Ten reported in. ## Ten to base. Radar's still clear over land but precip's
getting too thick to probe out over oceanic coordinates as ordered.##
##That'll do. Break
off your aid. Control Tower says its handling. Land at will,
Ten.##
##Roger base.## he replied,
breaking off from his protective circling over the
airport.
CN6541 screeched to an ungraceful
halt fifteen yards from an impact barrier,
nose crooked, like an ungangly swan. Silence enveloped
her as all of her
engines were sent into emergency shut down in the night time darkness. Soft
ice
landed with a sploosh into the foam under her wings with small plops as
left over friction heat quickly
melted it.
Joe saw as they got closer, that the lights in the passenger cabin sputtered, and
then
they went out. ::There's still fire somewhere on board.:: the chief thought in
alarm. ##Lay a blanket
foam over them with roof turrets! Full aperature.##
All four responded with straight streams that
began to fountain out, sweeping
back and forth in turns over the smoke opaque windows and skin of
the airplane.
Gene Skidwell continued his hails to CN6541 on a new system. ## CN, this is TC.
Do you read? Respond an equipment and passenger condition report. CN, do you
copy?##
Cap,
sitting next to Joe, hung onto the dashboard of the big foam truck Martelli
was driving as they pulled
up into position. "The pilot's probably been overcome
or he's abandoned his seat by now."
Martelli
grinned. "Yeah, but he got her down. Now it's our turn to set things to rights."
Cap lifted his
radio. ##Everybody double check your air status before moving in
from upwind!## He stepped down from
the cab of the brightly lit truck as a bouquet
of spotlights from every available vehicle illuminated
the steaming jet. Then he
spotted something, a dark spreading stain under the tail that was tearing
apart
the older foam eroded from the sleet on top of the concrete. He raised the alert.
##Fuel
spill! Tailward! Cover the stuff ASAP before--##
A hatch behind a jet wing flew off the airplane
as a gray emergency slide erupted
from a rear exit hole. The sharp metal edge of the ejected door
landed on the ground,
with a bright spark. It ignited the pool of fuel leaking from CN instantly
into a roaring
nimbus of fast spreading mushrooming fire. The inflatable slide popped from flames
contact, like a grotesque balloon, and withered away with the smell of burning rubber
and Jet-A.
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Joe, near Stanley, could see hastily flailing arms in the curtains of the airplane hatch.
Rorchek
thumbed a megaphone as he backed up to give the other trucks room to
work fast around him. ##Stay
inside! Do NOT jump! The slide's gone!## he broadcasted
through his silver Hazmat suit.
Moments
later, Cap and Joe saw the soot stained businessmen heed the warning and
restrain themselves from
acting. He saw an unmistakable wave of acknowledgement
from one of them, which was a good sign. They
were still thinking clearly inside
the plane.
Then Rorchek turned to his portable radio. "Any
of the other hatches opening? That's
the worst spot for an egress." he shouted, his face glowing
in the hideous light from
the ground fire. "It's downwind of the pavement smoke."
## No, Chief.
## came the replies from his and Cap's men. ##Only that one.##
"Okay, there must be a reason why
they've come back here to escape, abandoning
the other hatches. Call for a rolling walk and a motorized
step up from the terminal !
Let's assume a front end fire."
##We're on it!## somebody replied.
It was Holbrook, sweeping in with support
foam.
##I also want portable scba for the passengers.
Masks and bottles. One for
each when we're ready to evacuate them.## Joe added.
Slowly, inch
by inch, the fire burning on top of the fuel on the pavement
was pushed away from the airplane and
smothered with a liberal coat of AFFF
until it was out. The flames were gone, but thick scorching
black clouds continued
to rise due to lingering heat and they swirled thickly about the aircraft's
tail end.
Cap was ansing to come up with a faster solution as he kept his back to Joe's,
monitoring
their surroundings for other dangers. "Lifenet?"
"Too dangerous. We'll utilize one only as a last
resort. We've got time. None
of the passengers have worked themselves into a panic yet." Joe replied.
"That means, they either can't see the internal fire, or the smoke's venting
out adequately through
that opening." Rorchek bit his lip. "Rescue Eight.
See if you can locate the pilot visually through
the nose glass. He may
be the only victim we might be able to spot clearly at this point." he ordered,
eyeing up the smoke darkened row of passenger windows running the length
of the plane. He saw
a suited Marco Lopez and Rags Harris move forward in
their red vehicle with one of them crouched
on an aerial basket already extended
over their hood.
Marco shouted urgently. ##He's in there.
I'm seeing a white shirt. He's not moving.##
"Get him out. The tail fire back here's extinguished."
Joe told his guest firefighter.
##10-4. Going in.##
Stanley chimed in, watchful and full
of warning.
"Whatever you do. Do NOT open the flight cabin door. The other passengers
are keeping
well away from the service area. There may be more fire there."
##Gotcha, Captain, sir.## said
Harris. ##Smashing glass for a snatch.##
Rags deftly maneuvered the fire rescue truck to use the
ram mounted at
the base of the foam turret to splinter the transparent canopy of the plane over
the
empty first officer's seat. The whole shell gave way in a tinkling sheet of
shattered safety glass
in seconds with just a soft touch.
The sudden cold wind and still building ice rain did not revive
the unconscious
pilot.
Marco reached carefully in from his basket as soon as he had covered
the
cockpit's sharp edges with a tarp. He groped for the pilot's skin with a glove
and pushed,
looking for refill. Another glance through his faceplate confirmed
reactive pupils and slight breathing.
##He's alive.##
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Johnny Gage responded over the frequency. ##We're standing by with oxygen
in the ambulance approaching
you. Marco, is he injured?## his voice was
muffled by a hazmat suit and scba mask.
##No, he's
still belted in.## Lopez shared through layers of his own.
##No bleeding.##
Rags radioed to
Marco. ##The safety's easy to release, just press the big button
in the middle of the four X- straps.
They'll all open at once. And the lap belt's
will be normal. Just like an automobile's. ## he said from
the truck's driver's seat.
Marco looked over and nodded, but he could barely see Rags silver gloves
gripping the steering wheel.
##Found them.## Lopez grunted, straining to reach around the
flight controls.
##Hope the brakes are still on.## he said, pulling the shock sweaty limp pilot
towards his chest to tie on a safety belt and line.
##We've chocked the wheels..## Stanley promised.
##Plane's going nowhere. ##
::Come on. Come on. :: thought Joe, glancing up the runway toward
the distant
terminal. ::Where's that wheeled gangway?::
Inside the lead ambulance, silver suited
Roy and Hallie worked fast to lay out
medical equipment for the pilot and the cardiac arrest victim.
Johnny Gage
was still sitting in the driver's seat of the rig, looking frustrated in his bulky chrome
suit as he, too, searched for the airport workers driving the access gangway. He finally
spotted it
moving slowly, but groaned loudly as he saw it stop about sixty yards away
in the upwind safety zone,
by a clump of fire trucks.
Hallie spoke up as if reading his mind. "They've got to trade off with
suited up firemen.
Don't worry. It'll get here." she grinned, setting up an I.V. deftly despite her
hazmat
turnout and gloves. "And then we'll get our first patients to evacuate to the medical
center
on the tarmack."
Gage turned to look at her through the care taker's access door. "That place
got
enough staff on duty for a possible thirteen casualties?"
Hallie shrugged, looking small
in the suit surrounding her red and yellow fire helmet.
"We've got a doctor on duty. We can get more
in a heartbeat if we need them. And
Steven Beck's there. That flight paramedic. Remember him from
the station? He's
the guy who rushed in to tell us about spotting our CN off course. Between him,
you, me,
Ted, Chris and Roy, us six ALS's and our one doc's probably enough to get everybody
triaged
and shipped out to the big city."
"That cardiac's gonna take at least two." Johnny said, still
not happy.
"Any two firefighters can do CPR and ventilate. One of us can handle him alone then
for his meds, shocks and intubation." Green deflected. "Tell you what.. I'll call in for
a pair
of pumps now." She lifted her radio. "Ambulance One at the nose to IC. We
need a resuscitation team
on standby to work the MI."
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Joe Rorchek responded. ##I've assigned Chris to treat the pilot along with Rags
and Lopez. Sending
in Chet and Stoker to your position.##
"Copy that." Hallie grunted. Then she pegged big blue eyes
at Gage. "Feel better now
about us, Cally boy?" she said, mock gruff with all real firmness.
"Much."
Gage grinned lopsidedly.
Roy just started laughing from where he was setting up an EKG monitor
and leads.
"Gage, pacified by a lady. That's a first." he said, steaming up his silver head cover.
***************************************************
Subject: Dante's...
From: patti k (pattik1@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thu 9/10/09 6:21 PM
## IC to Ambulance One. ## came another hail, breaking their amused
reverie.
"Go ahead." said Green to the chief.
## Passengers are avoiding the front. Vacate
the area and rendevous
with the hatch crew and their victim a healthy distance away. I've got Ambulance
Two handling the pilot.## There was a long pause but soon Joe came back on
the air again. ##Then
you can ditch your suits, Hallie.##
Green made a face. "Did he--? Did he just read my mind? That's
just....scary."
she scoffed, surprised.
"10-4, IC. One out." replied Gage through his HT.
He stepped on the accelerator
and left the nose rescue operation for a point nearer the Halbrook
support trucks.
He passed by the gangway going the other way. Five silver suited ARFF
were operating
the machinery. "Looks like they're going in. Wish we could
join them at that hatch."
"We'd
only get in the way." replied Roy. "Chet and Stoker will keep him
oxgenated and circulating while
he and the other victims are moved over
to us using that platform." He reassured, still gripping
the paddles of their
already warmed up defib in his palms.
Gage looked dubious. "I hate being
triage."
DeSoto eyed him up. "I know. You're a dyed-in-the-wool rescue man. But
have a little
patients." he joked, deliberating using the wrong word.
"Oh." Johnny, said, making sure the patient
care cab was being heated
richly with a few checks of the driver's instrument panel. "I'm amused."
"Do you two always rib each other like--" She broke off suddenly.
Green was watching intently
through the back loading doors of the
red ambulance, and her suit glinted in headlights as Ambulance
Two
hurriedly pulled up next to them. It was Chris and the others with the pilot.
"Hey... Guys,
they're set. But something's up."
Hallie flung open the doors to meet them. Roy shut them again
for her
thoughtfully as he and Johnny both joined her at the rear of Two. Harris inside,
opened
the new rig's doors quickly. "We need another suction flange kit.
Ours clogged." Rags told them.
"I'll get it.." said Hallie, rushing to hand them several from the first
ambulance's supplies.
"How's he doing otherwise?" DeSoto asked, looking in at Chris, where
the paramedic firefighter
was still fussing with the pilot's in-place oral airway
with a manual bulb.
"Just smoke inhalation."
the oldest Rorchek son replied. "His O2 sats are
basementing so we're helping him." he said, tipping
a head at where Rags
had resumed waiting with a rich oxygen flowing ambu bag. "His EKG's SVT
but
stable."
"Good." Johnny said. "I'll radio the doc's area and let them know you're
coming first."
Hallie returned swiftly with the white plastic wrapped kit.
"Appreciate it." said Chris.
He blinked eagerly as soon as he took the
badly needed tubes set from Green. "Ooo."
He bit
it open and gave a new tube a bigger size to Marco. Soon Lopez
had things in order and was working."I'm
getting air in fine now." Rags said
after his fast vaccumming. He smiled as he watched Lopez abandon
him
quickly heading back for the steering wheel. "Nice work, fireman." he
complimented.
"No
problem. I hate the sound of half choking." Marco replied.
Chris sighed in relief. "Boy I'm glad
we stopped. Your stealing from a second rig
as a solution was definitely faster, Marco." Then he
changed the subject. "Where'd
Ted get to?" he wondered, asking One's crew about his little brother
as he
double checked the pilot's clear airway.
Johnny spoke up. "He's back with the break-in
crews, waiting to treat the worst.
We saw him after we were ordered out of the danger zone.." he groused.
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Chris raised his eyebrows and sighed deeply. "Man, I don't know how Dad keeps
track of us all." he
said, jiggling his spare accountability tag on his suit as he
studied his patient's arrythmia bleeping
monitor.
"He's been doing head counts since long before you were even born." Green
quipped
as she and Johnny leaned on the step up bumper from outside. Ice
rained freely down their suits. "I'm
sure you and Ted were hardly a whereabouts
challenge for him even growing up as hyperactive little
kids." she added.
The bleeping died away.
"Okay.. V-tach's settling down. Crisis over.."
Chris shot her an I'm-stabbed-clear-through but light look and then he quickly
closed the doors tightly
to keep out the growing cold.
"Marco.. Take off!" Roy said, slapping the rescue truck on the back
doors.
They watched as Ambulance Two bore the pilot down the runway, escorted
by an airport
security squad. They headed for the medical center that was waiting
with their entry doors already
wide open. The welcomely lit entrance, framed by
support staff watching amid a row of thickly blanketed
gurneys, was clearly visible
through a break in the heavily sleeting rain.
DeSoto allowed
himself a sense of great relief.
But then business took over.
## This is IC to all units.
CN6541 is fully evacuated. Move in for tear down
and secondary suppression. Alert the medical center
that the passengers are
on their way in less than five.## Joe's voice reported on air.
"I
got that." volunteered Gage over the airwaves. Then he radioed that information
ahead on the EMERG
channel after switching off main.
Minutes went by with little change at the scene that they could
see, but then
the gangway carefully arrived to Ambulance One with the jet's entire cluster of
coughing,
emotionally distressed business people and its two hostesses.
They all had shed their outer jackets
back on the plane and every one of them
was shivering violently from the elements. Fire tarps were
no help keeping
them warm.
A pair of firefighters had the cardiac arrested man loaded into
a plastic stokes
on the operator's platform and Kelly and Stoker were already hard at work over
him with aggressive CPR and carefully smooth bag valve ventilations.
Ted was still cutting off
the man's clothes and baring his chest. Another
firefighter was drying the ice and rain from his
skin rapidly with an absorbent
pad under the protection of a tarp draped over the palustrades of
the
gangway. "Get the defibrillator up here on the double!" he yelled. "He's
posturing."
On the ground, Roy startled. "Hypoxia?" ::Something must have gone wrong
with the civilian efforts
to support him.:: DeSoto thought. "I'll go." he told the
others. He sprinted up the metal steps with
the unit and an oxygen bottle.
"Johnny, I'll give him the first shock and then we're down there,
conversion
or no. Ted says he's severely acidotic!" he shouted down to them.
"Okay! We'll
be ready!" Gage replied.
He heard Roy shouting another hurried question as he climbed up the
stairs
rapidly."What about the others?" Gage heard Roy ask Ted.
The youngest Rorchek answered easily.
"No burns. They can wait for transport to take them in." Ted lifted up
his HT. "Hatch crew to IC.
We're well clear. Where's that bus? I've got
a lot of cold people up here." he radioed as he watched
Roy quickly
framed the paddles to deliver a countershock to the blue skinned
businessman in response
to the fine V-Fib that he had read off of them.
##It's on its way in less than one.## replied
the chief.
Roy waited as muscles relaxed following his given shock. Then he
gathered telemetry
data. "No change.." DeSoto reported, paddle reading
the man's chest once more. "He's no go. Let's
pick him up. Chet, skip
hooking up the O2 for now. Grab it along."
"Right.." he said as he
and Stoker finished one last set of compressions
and breaths.
"Okay, one, two, three. Lift..
Now, run!" DeSoto ordered urgently.
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