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***************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Sunday, December 23, 2018 6:22 PM
Subject: Melting Point
At Rampart, the hospital was still
bustling activity in the E.R. But his eyes noted
immediately the flashing incoming call light. Concentration
time for him was still hard
won, counted in seconds for each file in his arms. Kel bought more by
closing the
glass alcove door behind him in the paramedic base station room and setting
his casework
onto a nearby table swiftly.
Dr. Brackett replied in moments. "Unit calling in. Repeat your last
transmission."
Craig Brice cleared his throat and collected his thoughts into condensed form.
##This is Squad 51 with a respiratory distressed 78 year old orally fed male with a history
of
cancer related pneumonectomy in March. On sixteen liters of O2, with unresolved,
fluctuating awareness
levels. His trigger was the outside air." the paramedic shrugged,
gesturing at the brush fire smoke
hazing up the nursing home's rec room windows.
"Understood. What are his vitals?"
Brice
told him and then added. ##We have twelve lead telemetry ready.##
"Send it." Brackett answered,
flipping on the paper feed to the biocom demodulation
console.
##10-4, Rampart.## said Craig
as he pointed to Gage to switch on their feed.
Kel nodded as a strip began appearing. "I am receiving.
Send two minutes of EKG.
Then start an I.V. Normal Saline 1000 ml at a rate of 20cc's per hour. Give
him 2 mgs
atropine IV to dry out any pulmonary edema you note in that lung. I'll bet he has a ton.
If he needs intubation on the trip in, be aware of tracheal deviations due to the changes
that
were made by surgeons and alter your technique accordingly using an EOA, not
an E.T. Transport as
soon as possible. I'll have a respiratory oncologist specialist
standing by."
Craig repeated
back his care orders out loud so Johnny could hear them again
in double confirmation. Then he said,
## Our E.T.A. to the hospital will be fifteen
minutes precisely, Rampart.##
"We'll be ready
for him promptly." answered Kel, marvelling yet again at Brice's uncanny
ability to time future events
not yet arrived.
Mr. Petersen shook his head weakily from inside of his oxygen mask gratefully.
"Appreciate the .....special.." he gasped.
"Don't talk." said the older nurse kindly. "They know."
she smiled.
Five minutes later and hooked into multiple lines, the tired senior was transferred
onto a Mayfair crew's cot, by Gage and the EMTs and was bundled up in sheets
to start soaking up his
cold sweat. The sick man grinned faintly and reached up
to his caretaker's hand. "I'll be back, Bet.
Keep that garden bench warm for me."
"Sure." she nodded, relief warring with worry in her eyes,
but not in her voice.
Craig nipped that in the butt. "There's no artifact cardiac wise and his
breathing
volume's still improving with just this minimal intervention." he winked at her. "His
will be an overnight stay only I suspect."
"He's always right." added Johnny seriously, looking
up from the gear he was packing
away.
"Thank you. Both of you." said the staff each, in turn.
"He's a very dear favorite. We'll
be missing him all night. His life's stories, that he shares with
everybody, are truly
wonderful."
"Can't wait to hear some of those on the way in." Johnny
winked. "Are you up
for some serious storytelling, Mr. Petersen?"
"In a heartbeat. I've got
plenty of those left." he answered, already sounding
stronger.
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Joanne DeSoto was bustling around in her kitchen, crisp apron on and hair
neatly tucked into a cooking
bun. "White? Or red?" she asked her husband,
who was sprawled out onto the living room couch, unsuccessfully
eyeing up
entries for pet shelters in the Yellow Pages.
"Red. It's beef, right?"
"Flank
steak." she replied, her head buried in the oven as she basted the roast
in au jus with a long spoon.
"And shittake mushrooms."
"Joanne. Those are expensive. You didn't have to." DeSoto looked up,
the
contentment he was struggling to find, instantly leaving.
"This is why I'm serving wine
with dinner." She said primly, holding up a bottle
of Malbec. "Roy, we're still in budget, even with
your enforced break here
happening. I'm eternally grateful to your captain for sending your rear back
home."
she glared in mock. "Dixie told me the Mine Fire's going last all summer before
it's even
half contained so there's no use in your working so hard, to put it out.
I want a fire of another
kind started right after dinner, my love." she whispered
romantically, parking herself on his lap
and pulling away the phone book.
She kissed his lips delicately to which he only half heartedly responded.
"I'm sorry, Joanne. That sounds like a fabulous idea with the kids gone."
he finally smiled.
"Umm hmmm." Joanne murmured, straightening up Roy's hair around his
delightful ears. "I arranged double
sleep overs at their friends' houses a
week ago. I knew you were getting really tired even then when
you left
for work last Thursday without taking a single sip of your morning coffee.
So what are
you doing now? You're supposed to be relaxing." she said
to him, forehead to forehead in their embrace.
"It's Johnny."
Joanne laughed and got up to go back to the stove. "It's always about Johnny.
That's why he's a regular member of the family these days. What about our
engaging Mr. Gage?"
"He's.. well.. he hasn't been sleeping. I've heard him tossing and turning,
not resting, mumbling
about Boot when he's half under. The sooner we find
another dog for the station, or for him, the
better. Or he's going to end up like
me before too long and get put on light leave. He's a bachelor,
he can't afford
to be off work like we can." Roy told her. "So I've been reading up on all
the
pounds." DeSoto reached for the directory again and flipped it open to
the page he had been staring
at. "But I'm stuck when I finally call them.
I don't want to ask about finding another dog that looks
like Boot. That
would be unfair to the dog, with us expecting him or her to be like he was.
Do
I ask about a puppy? I mean, who's free enough with anybody's
schedule to handle all the paper
training and the whole nine yards of raising
a young dog up to adulthood?"
"Collectively, aren't
all of you firefighters able to do that? Isn't that why your dogs
are brought into the station to
begin with? Those lucky canines are never alone.
Not with shifts on call 24/7 around the clock around
them." Joanne shrugged,
tasting some mashed potatoes scooped onto her finger thoughtfully.
"But
what kind of dog? A dog is the only thing that will make Johnny begin to
feel right again about losing
Boot the way we lost him." Roy puzzled, almost
worn to the core.
"Husband. This is simple as
pie. Quit trying to be a master chef." she said,
drawing him into her eyes once again. "We let a dog,
choose him. Isn't
that how Boot found all of you in the first place back in the day?"
Roy began
smiling, for real, at last, as he buried his face in his wife's
hair gratefully. "It was. He saved
a young biker. That's how we first met."
"Then let's let a dog, save Johnny. We'll take him around
the pounds
on his next day off, before he gets on the back of one of those horses
of his, and tries
to run away again."
"He has?"
"Yep. You can tell by the way he walks. He gets bow legged,
Roy,
when he's been riding too much and for too long."
"Ah, Joanne, you'd make a good paramedic.
You notice everything
about people. I must be blind. I missed that about him."
"No, you've
just been...distracted. By me." she giggled, pulling him
down onto the couch in the beginning of
a tumble in the hay. "By design."
"Is the stove off?" DeSoto fussed, trying not to grin as he
attended
Joanne tenderly with his hands and lips.
"Yes, but the heat's more than boiling."
she laughed.
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"Hot d*mn."
said Chet as he and the rest of the gang eyeballed all the news
on the television about the Mine Fire
and their lack of progress. "I thought
we were making headway." he complained, shoving aside the spicy
chili
popcorn that Marco had whipped up for everybody.
Cap sighed, ignoring the broadcasts
as he buried himself in a newspaper
in his easy chair. "Not with the Santa Anas stirring up. They're
early this
year."
Stoker groaned. "I hate those winds. I can't calculate water flow from our
hoselines
with respect to evaporation rates in the air when they're blowing. It's really bad
for
fanning sprays."
"The sky's big, Mr. Stoker. And summer's already dry as a bone as it is. Equations
like that are impossible. That's why we use helicopter and sky crane water drops.
Flooding's the only
answer and workable solution to a fire that big in those conditions."
Brice agreed.
Hank grew
serious and set down his paper. "But the water's running out. Just got
the report. Soon, on order
of the governor, the fire department will be forced to use
seawater if any more of the city falls
under risk of burning from sparks."
"Salting the land?" Gage exasperated. "That'll never fly
with city hall. Even to save their
own buildings. Salt in dirt's practically forever, Cap. It's deadly
poison to local plants and
trees."
"I know. I know. Tell that to the government." Cap shrugged.
"When's the last time you've heard
anything environmental issue from the little guys carrying an
impact on them?
They haven't even gotten their act together long enough to start building desalinization
plants
for people's drinking water. Our population's tripling, so we're getting thirsty as a result,
firefighting wise. Hydrants with low pressure, air backups, gas leaks, are becoming more
and
more commonplace. This might be the summer where everything comes to a crisis
point on that angle.
The other chiefs and I all feel that this year, all of that, will happen."
"What can we do about
it, Cap?" asked Lopez.
"Absolutely nothing, pal. And that's the part that really sticks in my
craw. We'll have
to just wait it out, work it best we can, and see how the whole mess pans out in
the end."
Hank said seriously. Frustrated, he tossed his newspaper to the floor and flipped over
onto
his side in the chair, to get lost in his vaguely felt, helpless thoughts.
The rest of the gang
turned back to the T.V. in an attempt to face the reality that was rapidly
spinning out of their
control.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was full night at Rampart.
Morton, Dixie and Dr. Early were taking a coffee break when
a loud
noise and bright orange tinged light, erupting from the direction of the burning
foothills,
lit up their window.
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*************************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent: Sunday, March 17, 2019 12:42 PM
Subject: Pressure Point
Dr. Early's hand snatched
out and captured Dixie's mug to steady it before it jolted
out of her grip when the nurse jumped in
startlement.
"Whoa!" said McCall. "Can this fire get any creepier, fellas? My nerves are shot."
Mike Morton just grinned from the bite he was taking out of a triple decker BLT
sandwich. "That's
the coffee talking, Dix. Your sixth cup today." he mumbled.
McCall glared at him wide eyed. "You've
been counting them?!"
Dr. Morton shrugged, chipmunk cheeked with his late night snack. "I count
everybody's. I'm just wired that way. Pops into my brain automatically."
Dixie glowered into the
depths of her freshly empty mug. "I wish the caffeine would.
Then I wouldn't have to waste so much
time drinking it."
"That eidetic memory is why he's a good doctor, Dixie." Joe reminded her.
"Then give him the nurse's schedule to do in my place. I'm ripping my hair out over all
of these
request/change forms. I'm so much better with patient charts and.. and..and..
confirming M.D. orders."
she exasperated. "Floating calendars always drive me crazy!"
"Give it here. I'll do it." Mike
gestured, stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth.
"Come on, now.." he chuckled when she
resisted. "Double check my case load stack's.
I know you know how I work orders even better than
I do."
That remark earned Morton at least a quarter of a smile. McCall began to bulldog
frown
but the round rimmed eyeglassed doctor took none of that. "Nah uh. We're
trading. Or do you value
that headache you've been trying to hide all day, more than
taking a break from it?"
Joe chortled.
"Mmmm. I stand corrected. Mike's an expert doctor. Better belly up,
Dix, before he pulls an M.D.
string and orders a full neuro on you."
"Ah, doctors!.. Okay, it's a deal." she finally huffed,
standing up and then working
up the courage to peek through the lounge's venetian blinds at the fiery
conflagration
outside that was still disturbing their usual sense of coffee lounge peace. "Where's
a
good friendly paramedic when you want to chat over a cuppa? It's all a battlezone in
here."
Joe sobered. "They're all out there. Fighting that." he gestured to the glowing window.
McCall
abandoned her coffee mug. "It's summers like this where I really start to get
depressed about anybody
who has to be a firefighter." She sighed and eyed up her
hands' red skin. They were chapped from too
many burn care prep washes.
"We'll save all we can." Mike comforted her softly. "It's all we can
do for them when
the ones who need it, finally get hauled in here."
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Craig Brice was driving, following the nursing home call. The spectacled paramedic
said something
aloud the third time Johnny Gage reached for the radio mic on the dash
clip, and didn't pick it up.
"Don't want to call us in as available yet, Gage?" he asked.
"Huh? Wha-- oh." Johnny replied as
he realized how much closer they were to the
station than the last time he was aware of it. "Sorry,
Brice. I guess I'm still tired. It's
been an all nighter for me since Roy got sent home last night."
Craig smiled kindly. "We won't get a call for hours. Not now. It's rush hour. People will be
concentrating
on getting to work or school for a while. And the seniors are all thinking
about lunch already instead
of about all of their aches and pains. We're good here."
Johnny dropped his head and groaned quietly.
"I knew that. I did." He un-spigotted
the mic and spoke into it on auto-pilot. "S-Squad 51, available."
##Squad 51 at 0710. ## came L.A.'s replyback.
Brice frowned at Johnny. "You're taking a nap
or I'm pulling regulations on you like a--"
"....bookworm. Yeah, I know. I won't fight you on
that. Pillow hugging's all I can think about
right now." Gage shared.
Craig minced at his partner's
unusual honesty, as he navigated through their last intersection
home. He took in a deep breath,
and offered some of the same. "I miss Boot, too." he said,
keeping his eyes on the road respectfully.
Johnny looked at Brice sharply, not quite believing his ears. His mouth worked. But the new
silence
between them stretched, against his will.
It wasn't until the station bay door was opening for
them did Brice speak again. "The guys
at Ten's are thinking about pooling up cash and getting a...
a new... dog."
Gage's face clammed up and he remained unmoving in his seat. He studied the fingers
in
his lap until they were fully parked. He made no reach for his door handle afterwards. "For
me,
it's too soon. I... feel that... pretty strongly."
Brice killed the squad's engine and set the
ignition key onto the dash methodically. "Have
you figured out why?"
"Nah." Johnny sighed.
"If I knew the answer to that one, I'd probably be sleeping little better
at night."
Craig
wobbled his head a second time, understanding a bit more. He folded his hands together
over the steering
wheel and kept his gaze neutral as he dove into uncharted waters. "It's not
P.T.S.D. He wasn't a firefighter
crewperson, or a patient. Yet......"
Gage completed Brice's line of logic. "....all of the grief's
still very real. " his voice caught in
his throat. "Oh, Brice. I feel like I owe Boot, something awful!
I can't help wondering if this is
some kind of flawed thinking or not." he said, pulling his emotions
back into a firm line.
Brice grew quiet. "Is an impression of debt owing a part of survivor's
guilt? I have no idea.
I'm a paramedic, not a pyschiatrist. Is it abnormal? No. I'd feel exactly
the same
way if I had been in your shoes. Boot took the equivalent of a grenade for that dead kid
he
found, Johnny. It doesn't matter that it was pointless how he died. How those two went wasn't
preventable for either one of them. Not in the slightest, soo....how about this? Why not.. fix
something
that is a current issue somewhere, that already bugs the hell out of everybody
who's fire department?
It's what Boot always did."
Relief spread out on Johnny's face like a water fan over a flash over
and both of his amber
eyes glistened with unbidden tears which he did not let go. "That's.. all true.
I'll think on it."
Craig bit his lip and met Gage squarely in the eye as he reached out and grasped
his
shoulder. "It might be the right answer, but... I'm not .. positive it is, Gage. Don't take
it
at its full face value."
Johnny smiled and returned a brief squeeze over Craig's grip in thanks.
"You? Being
uncertain? This is honestly.. uh,... refreshing, Brice. If that idea isn't the solution
it's at
least most of it. I sincerely thank you for that. I really needed to hear a whole butt ton
of
sensibility. And you just gave me some. Come on. Let's go eat. I'm more hungry now
than I
am sleepy." Gage jumped out of the squad and closed the door behind him eagerly.
"Good." Craig
said, safely out of earshot. He gathered up all of their run sheets and
notes for the log. Brice secretly
let his eyes smile once he was alone again. "That's
a healthier response to have. Wow." he marvelled.
"It worked on him? Usually I suck at
mental bandaids. Hmmm." he grunted, quirking up his lip. He was
well pleased with
the outcome of being able to smooth a little rough road. Then he rose and followed
Johnny
into the kitchen.
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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Sunday, December 8th, 2019 18:42 PM
Subject: Rounds
"What's for dinner?" said Gage, brightly,
inhaling deeply at the
rich aroma of caramelized roast beef wafting out of the oven.
Roy looked
up from his kitchen coffee mug hovering over
the newspaper, quickly. "You're happy?" He said, freezing
over the horse racing column. The circles under Gage's
eyes already appeared lighter to DeSoto's
critical gaze.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Johnny shrugged briefly, stealing
a bread roll from
a basket that Marco was placing on the table.
He sniffed it appreciatively before stuffing the whole
bun into
his mouth.
"Hey, you'll spoil your appetite." complained the hispanic firefighter.
"Starving, Marco. Recovering firefighter here. Gimmee another
one." Gage gaped at him, snatching
up steaming bun number two.
"Hmmm. That's all you get. There was only two each for everybody."
Lopez replied dubiously, not yet trusting Johnny's change of mood.
"Understood. I'll attack
my steak next."
Captain Stanley was wide eyed at the exchange, and grinning.
"It's nice to
see you no longer moping. You figured something out?"
"Nah, Cap. Craig did." Johnny finally admitted.
"He set my rear back
on course out of the deep end by putting my life into a new perspective."
"Oh, yeah?" Chet Kelly asked, eyeing up his coworker suspiciously.
"I wouldn't want Brice monkeying
with any part of my life short of
saving it in a fire. He's a good fireman, but he's definitely a
not
Sigmund Freud type, Johnny. What exact book mumbo jumbo did
he tell you?" he asked in true
ill at ease.
"Shush. He's coming. Keep wondering. It's going to be a private
conversation
memory between just the two of us forever, Chet." he
chuckled mysteriously.
"I don't need
to dig. I'm glad you're feeling better, Johnny." said Mike
Stoker, taking out the pot roast from
the stove with his fried chicken
patterned oven mitts. "It's been a long five weeks watching you
battle
the blues."
"Thanks, Stoker. Hey, Brice... saved some coffee for you." he said at
the sound of shoe steps on linoleum getting louder behind him without
turning around. "It doesn't
smell any older than--".. he sniffed the pot after
lifting its lid,.."..four hours. It's still good."
"I'll have some." Craig accepted a coffee mug Cap tossed his way,
oggling everybody curiously
from the corner of his eye. "What?"
"Nothing." Roy finally said, smiling hugely. "Dinner's ready.
Have a seat,
Craig. I'll carve you the first slice."
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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Sunday, December 8th, 2019 21:18 PM
Subject: The Grind
"G*d d@mn*d fire. You make me wish I
had more middle fingers!" Dixie
exclaimed as she and Dr. Morton left a treatment room where a badly
burned firefighter had just died. McCall quickly banked her tearing
eyes with a hasty swipe of her
elegantly pearl painted fingernails.
"There was no way to save him, Dixie." said Dr. Brackett.
"He had
circumferential burns around his torso and heavy soot half way
down his entire main bronchial
tree. I wouldn't be surprised if he
has second degree burns in both lungs. The coroner will
confirm
that for sure after his autopsy."
"I'm sick of it, Kel. It's almost fall. Why can't they put
out that wildfire?
There's no Santa Ana winds to speak of." she replied,
pulling her uniform collar
away from her neck where ample sweat trickled
down her skin.
"We'll find out why at the meeting
in a few minutes with the fire department.
Captain Stanley from Station 51 is here to brief all the
senior staff."
Kel answered.
Dr. Morton arrived from down the hall near the main reception
desk.
He had another six charts in his arms from more firefighters getting
admitted. He had just
ruled out the need for either Respiratory or
immediate surgery care for each of them. "You okay?"
he asked
Dixie, noting the heavy sheen of perspiration on her face.
"What? You want a running
account of every time I get a hot flash, Mike?"
she snapped.
Dr. Morton looked mildly stunned.
"No, I--"
"Whoops, there's another one. And another one. And--.."
"Dixie! Will you cut
that out?" Mike stage whispered to her, fully aware
of the full emergency ward's visitors and relatives
sitting nearby.
Dixie was oblivious, stage whispering just as quietly.
"Dr. Morton, you're
a grown man. You should already know about the birds
and the bees. Well in my case, the ghost of
them." She raised her voice
dramatically. "Yes! I'm menopausal, everybody! Did you hear that?!"
All the older women in the waiting area chuckled while their male companions
wore a mixed bag of
reactions ranging from surprise to eye rolling boredom.
"Dr. Brackett, Can you keep your girlfriend
in line? She seems to want to tell
me every sordid detail of her personal reproductive history."
Morton said,
angling his head.
Kel's face broke out in full amusement as he crossed his arms
in front of him.
"Miss McCall is her own adult person. She can discuss anything she wants,
Mike.
I've never been able to stop her."
"Smart man." Dixie quipped, opening up the narcotics cabinet
to do a fast
hourly inventory. "I was comforting the masses like it says in my job description.
Did you miss seeing the first real smiles break out over there just now?"
Mike took a good long
look at the waiting room. The mood was visibly more
relaxed than it had been for days.
"Oh.
I thought you were going nuts." Morton replied. "Disappointed, Dix." he
laughed. "I wanted something
I could cure today."
"Shall we go, kids?" Kel indicated pointedly, towards the lounge. "We're
almost
late. Leave your coffee cups here. That's an order. Both of you have had enough."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hank Stanley wasn't in his turnout gear or on call to his fire station crew. He had
just come
from city hall in Carson where he had delivered the same early morning
talk he was giving Rampart's
mandatory all night shift personnel right now. His
eyes met in turn, every nurse, orderly and doctor
present in the room. The food
laid out by commissary, lay untouched on the table in front of them.
“The Cistern Park fire is unique. The non native plants and trees in that area
have numerous
protective chemicals with which they coat their leaves to prevent water loss.
Many of these substances
are similar to wax. Vaporized by the heat from fires, these
substances disperse into the air and
then congeal over the soil surface when the fire
begins to cool. Like the wax on your car, these
substances coat the soil, causing water
to bead up and run off quickly. In general, the greater the
fire intensity and the longer
the fire’s residence time, the more hydrophobic the soil becomes. Water
can't
pentrate the substrate to cool the land and so temperatures rise. Night fog can't
bank the
flames and any water we drop onto them just boils away into steam
as fast as we apply it via choppers.
The only option we have is to use
fire suppressant chemicals and those as you might have guessed,
are already
in very short supply. It's a waiting game." Stanley shared gravely. "We dig
fire breaks
downwind each day and each team can only hope to guide the
fire onto bare rock faces and cliffsides
to help stave off its widening
progression. But there are complications."
"Like what?" asked
Joe Early. "I would have thought our September rains
would have made things easier for you guys by
now."
"You would think. But they have had no real effect this year. Flames have leaped
over
the natural freeway grid surrounding the parklands. Because of the fire's
duration, we can't shut
down traffic when this happens. Life goes on. And by law,
we have to allow people to move about for
services, their jobs, on those same
roads, and for that, they need to run the gauntlet on their own.
We
firefighters can only monitor the activity and bail people out when situations
arise where traffic
and flames collide. We can't even protect the neighborhood
south of the cistern mine. We've evacuated
1300 homes and there's nothing
between the fire now and the city's edge, but a power plant of electrical
lines."
The worried murmur in the room erupted as Rampart's staff finally understood
the magnitude
of the disaster still in the making.
"Is there a real chance the hospital will lose power as
a result of the fire reaching
the plant?" asked Dr. Brackett, thinking ahead.
"It's a certainty.
We estimate we have about twenty four hours before that happens.
And that hydroelectric station along
the L.A. Riverbed is the only one supplying
energy right now to Carson and its outlying subsidiaries.
Everybody else in that
utility grid is dealing with repairs needed from other wildfires that have
thankfully
burned themselves out. They won't be able to help us by transferring any power."
Hank
answered.
"Our generators can cope with the outage." replied a hospital engineer. "They run
on
natural gas and our supply line from Arco Refinery won't be effected by the fire."
"You don't
understand. We're not just talking about a couple of hours or days without
electricity. We're talking
perhaps a black out of several months when everything's
said and done." Captain Stanley said grimly.
The room burst into loud exclamations of dismay and fright.
Dr. Morton stood and spoke over
the din. "Everybody just sit down. Let's hear the
captain out. This is bad, but it's not the end of
the world. Let's be quiet."
Eventually, the stressed babble faded away.
"I'll take individual
questions. I have five minutes to provide any answers." Hank
told them.
Dixie McCall raised
her hand. "We've had earthquakes before. Why is this
loss of powerlines going to be different than
what we've already seen in the past?"
"The power plant will disintegrate in the wildfire. You
can't generate power, without
the machinery. An earthquake doesn't destroy a building like that. But
the Cistern
Fire will."
Joe Early stood, looking at his watch. "Time's up, all. E.R.'s getting
another wave
of influx patients. Mostly green and yellow triaged. Thank you Captain Stanley for
the
debrief. We'll do our best to keep all of this information away from the media."
Dr. Brackett
tossed Hank a wrapped sandwich from the platter on the table.
"Eat. I'm sure you haven't had any breakfast
yet."
"Appreciate it, Doctor."
"Where are you headed to now?" Kel asked as the lounge cleared
of staff.
Hank shifted the tie of his black suit and white shirt combo a little looser from
around
his neck. "I'm headed to see the family of the little boy we lost the
day the mine blew up to pay
my formal respects. He's already in the ground,
but we in the fire department would be remiss if we
didn't offer funds free
and clear, to cover those burial costs the city decided not to waive."
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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Saturday, December 14, 2019 12:17 PM
Subject: The Orange Rain..
It was noon on the same
day. Hank had returned from his errands, emotionally
diminished on the inside, but not showing any
sign of it on the outside, to his men.
He had pinned on the last silver trumpet of his usual pair
onto his collar when
the tones began. Next to him at the kitchen stable, Marco jolted to his feet,
but
Cap grabbed his arm to stop him. "Squad only call. Hear that odd pitch echo?
It's going to
be a mutual aid assist out of our jurisdiction."
"How are we managing to do that kind of thing?"
Marco wondered.
"Because we have six states worth of firefighters pouring in, little by little,
every day, Marco. That's how." Cap smiled. "Our scope of powers have
grown courtesy of the governor
and his emergency legislative pen."
"Far out." replied Chet.
Mike Stoker grunted. "Only
you would know the background sounds at L.A. Dispatch
so well, Cap."
"Been doing this for almost
too long." Cap grimaced. He looked up as his paramedics
piled by him and into the apparatus bay. "Brice,
this is instinct. Ride shotgun with Gage
and DeSoto for this one."
Craig nodded and ran after
Roy and Johnny.
"What do you think's going on upstate, Cap?" Lopez asked after Squad 51's crew
had left.
"Unexpected fall out? The flames on our own local fire don't have to be that neighborly
to create extra human suffering. This year's proving that point well enough."
The rare brass
edge to the tones completed its cycle and Sam Lanier's voice came over
speaker. ##Squad 51, substituting
for Pismo Beach F.D., a female EDP has been reported
as a suicide attempt in progress without visible
injuries. 400 S Dolliver St. 400 S Dolliver St.
Cross street : Cabrillo Highway 1. P.D has secured
the scene. Requesting you in, Code 2,
reds dark. ##
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Johnny hollered as he wrote out the address. "Stoker! Do you know where this is on the
map?"
"Yeah!"
answered Mike, jogging over to join him at the radio transmitter alcove by the county
map. "I think
it's a newly sanctioned butterfly grove in San Luis Obispo County. Here.." he
said, stabbing a finger
down near a coast line. He quickly traced their route from the station
to the call with a finger.
"Thanks." Johnny said, committing the way there to memory. He snatched up his paper and
the radio
mic. "L.A., Squad 51 responding."
##Squad 51. Pismo reports general heavy wildfire smoke and heat
in that area, but no embers.
Time out: 12:11.##
Roy jerked his helmet strap a little tighter
on his chin as Brice took the center island seat in
between himself and Gage. "That call's a long
way from home." he frowned. "At least
a three hour trip."
"Must be a reason why they wanted
us specifically for it." Craig said. "We'll find out."
"I said I wanted a vacation away from here."
Gage replied. "Didn't really expect it to happen."
"Karma had nothing to do with it." Brice remarked.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Squad 51 arrived. All three firefighters were squinting painfully in the bright sunlight which
they
hadn't seen for many weeks due to the Cistern Fire. They saw San Luis Ambulance
and a police squad
standing by an undamaged black sports car, crashed off road onto a
planted center island with its
front bumper snugged up against a palm tree. Engine 64 from
the Pismo Beach Fire Department was present
nearby, but her crew was absent; their
fire hoses were not deployed.
"Curiouser and curiouser."
Craig frowned as the three paramedics got out of the squad to
gather their medical gear. They were
walking by the Pismo Beach Monarch Butterfly
Sanctuary sign when ....
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"Hello, boys." came a familiar resonating voice from behind them. Doc Coolidge, the animal
control
vet from Los Angeles County, stepped out from behind the police car. He was wearing
jogging clothes
and was sweating profusely.
"Doc Coolidge? What the heck?" Johnny exclaimed in surprise. "Did
you ask for us?"
Coolidge was somber. "I did. I figured my clout could arrange things. Thanks
for coming out."
Roy hefted up the drug box and dressings box. "Our biophone's grossly out of
range. We won't be
able to use it. What's the situation, Doc?"
"This one's personal, Roy. It's
Patty Burns." the vet replied, as he gratefully accepted a water bottle
a woman police officer handed
him.
"Your receptionist from the office?" DeSoto clarified.
"Yeah. We've been pulling
nasty fire related calls for months. Some ugly, and most of them ultimately
fatal. She suddenly snapped
after we lost another puppy today in surgery. Patty jumped into her car,
and raced straight here."
"How did you know where to find her?" Brice asked.
"I know my staff. What comforts them.
We talk a lot over the operating table. I guessed accurately."
he told Craig. "She's asked for you
specifically, Johnny. Burns isn't letting anybody else near. Not
even me. I guess she remembers what
you guys did for that pygmy goat a few years ago."
"What's her condition?" Roy asked.
"Conscious.
She was hysterical. But she's just sitting quietly now. I don't know the exact means of
how she wants
to do herself in. But I know she'd never touch a gun. She's seen the results of too
many hunters
and poachers against lifestock and family pets to ever like any idea of holding one
in her own two
hands." Doc replied. "But she's... said she actually wants to kill herself. And that's
the total
shocker which made me request some top end help. I knew I was in over my head for
this."
"We
should have tackled her to the ground hours ago." replied the police woman.
"Young Miss. That's
no way to treat a friend!! I didn't allow the option then, and I'm not allowing
that option now!
So cool your boots!!" Coolidge told her. "This patient doesn't warrant a
physically violent solution."
"Our chief agreed with you, city vet. We'll hold back." The officer nodded, dead pan.
Doc
Coolidge ignored P.D. pointedly. "Johnny, don't worry about the uniform you got on,
or what gear you're
carrying. She understands emergency medicine in all its facets even though
she's civilian. I'm surmising
that this is about the loss of animal life in her eyes. It can be no other
reason."
::Like
my Boot.:: came the unbidden thought in Gage's mind. He swallowed down that pain and kept
it from
his face. "Okay. Give me a few minutes with her. I'll figure out fast what she may have done to
herself
here."
Doc nodded gratefully and pointed out the right trail to take through the eucalyptus trees.
"The park
docents say she's sitting on a rock around the bend. They're watching her through their
binoculars
from a nearby tree crown."
Roy handed Johnny a water bottle from the R and R crate
Brice had set out. "Take a walkie
talkie. We'll be on Tach 2."
"I'll try and find out where
Pismo's crew is. We don't have their channel patched in yet." Brice decided.
"I'll let you know when
I know."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gage heard her before he saw her. Burns was weeping and he didn't like the sound of her breathing.
"Patty? It's Johnny. Can I come over there? I brought you some water...."
"Not... too close..
You'll... you might hurt them.." she sobbed. "They're falling down all over the place.."
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"Hurt who?" he said, taking off his helmet and setting down the drug and airways boxes. He shoved
the
plastic water bottle into a jacket pocket for later. He toggled the radio talk button. "She's awake
and lucid." he said moving nearer to Burns.
##Copy.## replied Brice over his hand held radio.
"Stop it, Johnny." Patty keened, gesturing shakily to the brown leaves on the ground. Only they weren't
leaves. They were dead and dying monarch butterflies by the thousands. "Don't crush them any more.."
she sobbed. In her lap, she had dozens of butterflies with fire charred wings and missing legs crawling
hopelessly through her fingers. " Please help..."
In horror, Johnny saw green goo and wing
shreds on both of his feet. Johnnny looked up at the trees
surrounding them and to the hibernating
clusters that never should have been overwintering so soon
in the fall. Fire smoke was drifting across
the masses and whereever the ash in the air was the densest,
butterflies fell from their perches,
like orange rain.
"No,.. don't give up, little guys. " she pleaded blearily to the fluttering,
failing butterflies. "They don't have
any more food, Johnny. The fires must have burned it up." she
gasped. "They don't have anywhere
else to go but here. And it's killing them, too." Her face crinkled
in fresh grief and she sagged forward.
Gage shook himself fiercely, and hurried over to her, grabbing
her around the shoulders as he reached
for a pulse point in her wrist. He smelled something bitter
and saw a white powder caked around her
bluish lips. "Patty, what did you take? Was it pills?" The
pulse he found was bradycardic. Very slow.
She didn't reply and suddenly went limp in his arms.
He bore her to the ground and opened her airway
manually. A cloud of monarchs surged up around them
and landed on their clothes and faces. Johnny
angrily swept them away as he delivered a deep sternal
rub. "Patty?"
She groaned, and then began taking in a weak series of shallowing breaths, that
were adequate
enough, to his satisfaction, to last another minute.
He snatched up his radio.
"She's down. Definite ingested substance."
##We're coming in. They're showing us the way to you.##
came Roy's reply.
"Bring the O2 on the double!" Johnny added, seeing cyanosis creep over her features
in a dark
pallor. "And that ambulance crew's stretcher. We may need their suction!"
##Got them.##
Burns didn't flinch when Johnny sent a lubricated nasopharyngeal airway down her right side nostril
to get around her swollen tongue. "....johnny.. why can't we save them all?.." she begged.
The
memory of Boot flared up as Gage got an ambu bag set up near her head in case it was needed,
and
tears flooded his eyes. "Patty... We're only two people. Nobody can fight a big fire...... and
win
right away. Keep breathing for me. Best you can."
He flipped open the drug box, starting to reach
for the naloxone, when he corrected himself and
began patting down her clothes. "Where are the pills
you took? I can't treat you effectively without
knowing what kind. Where's the bottle?"
Burns
smile faded. "That puppy Doc fought to save was number 92, Johnny. He was just a stray,
barely five
weeks old. That ...d*med fire burned off his tail and a leg." she sobbed, eyeing up a
monarch who
had lost all four wings, melted by flames, clinging to the back of her hand. "Not you,
too." she
cried anew. "...so much death.."
Johnny coughed, pursing his lips. "Patty. I'm sure he tried...
as hard as he could...to--"
"...not enough.."
"What did you take?" he said firmly, holding
her face with both hands so she couldn't see the
wounded butterflies moving in rippling drifts all
around them.
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Burns weakly shook her head as she refuse to answer him. "..let me go.."
"Not happening." he
told her. He didn't find anything in any of her pockets, so he repositioned
her head farther back
in management so he could leave her briefly to sweep his hands over
the ground around where they
were, through the ever deepening pile of dead butterflies. There
were too many to search through,
in too large of an area. Gage nearly smacked himself, with
another idea. "Check the car for pills."
he said over the radio.
##Doing it.## replied the woman police officer through their channel.
Johnny continued digging around them, faster and faster, more and more desperately, feeling
the
same helplessness he had felt in the mine hole as Boot crawled away from him through the
foam.
The orange rain grew heavier, obscuring his sight with the sheer numbers of monarchs
tumbling
from the trees above them.
A flash of Boot's face shot across Johnny's vision. "I'm fine." he
mumbled, unthinking. "I'm not
going to be a victim." Then he remembered where he was, and the patient
in front of him.
"Roy? Any time now!" Gage shouted out loud.
A flash of blue startled Johnny
as his two partners arrived.
"We're here! I got her.." DeSoto shouted, moving to Burn's head and beginning
to assist her
ventilations with the demand valve resuscitator he had brought with him. He set a full
fifteen
liters of oxygen to the flow. "Keep looking. She's unconscious, but still has a pulse. Color's
improving."
The butterfly reserve docents arrived with a crowd of bystanders and they all
began to search
for the pill bottle that had to be there.
It was Doc Coolidge who located
the stolen medication near a tree under where the dead
monarchs lay the thickest. He held up the
soiled bottle triumphantly. "This is from my office! It's
capped, ten pills missing of Acepromazine.
That's a phenothiazine neuroleptic. It won't kill her right
away. Your protocol standing orders dose
of norepinephrine should successfully offset her hypotension."
"Will deliver 1mg/mL of Levarterenol
at 8 mcg/min I.V.. I'll titrate until we hit 90/P." Brice confirmed,
and he soon did so, to a hastily
started port in her forearm. "Somebody grab a reading?"
"I'm so glad you're such a stupid girl!"
Doc worriedly told Burns, grabbing a blood pressure
cuff to take one on her, at an upper arm. "She
probably thought she could overdose on this
dog anti anxiety drug. A stomach pump followed up with
some Pepto-Bismol should decrease
absorption."
"What about activated charcoal?" Johnny asked
Coolidge.
"Even better. They'll probably tell you to use that en route." said Doc. "Palpating.
She's at 76 systolic. No diastolic."
"Raising her legs." DeSoto replied.
"It's so
hot. How can she be shocky?" Johnny wondered.
"The pills are a vaso-dilator. They're used in horses,
too, to counteract exertional rhabdomyolysis."
Doc answered eagerly, lecturing, because he was a nervous
wreck.
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"Not a fun effect here." Gage grunted as he checked her pupils using the sun as a light source
and
his hand's shadow. "Reactive."
"That's a good sign." Coolidge puffed out in relief. "Keep working
her, Roy, until
the counteragent Mr. Brice gave her takes effect."
Inexorably, the medical
tide was turned as they battled over Burns.
A few minutes later, Squad 51 was ready.
"Where's
Engine 64's crew, Brice?" DeSoto wondered as they were bundling up Burns
onto the local ambulance's
cot.
"Handling a beach drowning." Craig replied. "They took a walk up because Burns
was stable
and being monitored by P.D."
DeSoto eyed up the EMTs manning the gurney. "We're going to need
your medical
director's frequency for our biophone on the way in."
"Channel Six." replied
one of them, trying to ignore the smoke stunned butterflies they
were stepping in, and being covered
by, unsuccessfully.
At the sanctuary entrance, a docent tapped Johnny on the shoulder as Patty
was being
loaded onto the ambulance. He saw she no longer had to be breath supported by DeSoto,
so
Gage turned around.
"This one's for her. This butterfly's going to live. So she doesn't lose hope."
said the
woman. She handed Gage a potted zinnia flower that had a recovering female monarch
butterfly
resting on it. "She can let it go tomorrow when they're both better."
Smiling, Johnny took the
pot and climbed in to join his soul sick patient.
"We got her back, gentlemen. She's no longer
dying." Coolidge reported, seeing the
last signs of hypoxia leaving Patty's skin because of their
ministrations. "See that?"
"Neither are they." mumbled the park docent. A fresh breath of
wind, as the daily
afternoon sea breezes arrived, blew through the butterflies on the ground, reviving
the
remaining survivors, who gamely returned to the trees as sudden blue sky appeared.
"Clear
air's coming for the rest of the day and night. The colonies are safe for now,
people. " said the
woman park volunteer to the crowd. "Thanks for all of your
help searching. Pack up your picnics and
go home. We're closing early."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the moving ambulance, Burns opened her eyes.
Johnny turned over one of her hands, and deposited
the fire ash dusted monarch
butterfly into her palm. "Hey.. We saved this one." he said softly.
"And you."
Patty's eyes teared up around her oxygen mask as she brought the
monarch close
to her cheek so she could feel the softness of living wings
against the side of her face on the pillow.
"Thank you, Johnny. I'm so
sorry for what I did today." she sobbed. "Doc's gonna fire me."
"No
he won't. He's the one who found you. Now what kind of boss does all
that, right before he terminates
an employee? Nobody I've ever heard of.
Am I right?" he grinned at her.
She tried to, and
failed to laugh, as she cradled the monarch even closer
to her nearest, clearing eye.
"I'm
so sorry about Boot. Dixie told me about him last month." Patty sighed.
"You boys must be as devastated
as I am about what the fire did."
she admitted, sucking in a deeper breath as she fought the tranquilizer
pills
effects.
"I have an idea about our identical mutual problem, Miss Burns." Johnny
shared.
"Just hit upon it a few minutes ago."
"What's that?" she whispered, settling the butterfly back
onto the
pink blossomed plant he had shown her proudly. They both smiled just a bit
as the monarch
slowly unfurled her proboscis and began to take in a
little nectar. They found that they couldn't
take their eyes off of how
hard the butterfly was fighting to stay alive. She quickly grew stronger,
and steadier on her feet, as she took in vital nourishment.
"I... figured we could let Les and
Dave train us up when we're both off duty
to be animal control officers. That way, we can rescue every
single
scurrying, flying, crawling, galloping thing we can get our hands on that's
escaping that
horrible fire,... and make a difference that matters."
Crying openly in gratitude, the recovering
secretary reached up to hug
her paramedic who was just finding himself equally rescued from a fire
spectre that had been burning him straight to the core for so long. "Let's
do it, Johnny." she
agreed. "I knew you'd have an answer for the both of
us."
He hugged her back gently. "I'm glad
you called for help Miss Burns.
Even if it was from half way across the state."
"All I could
think about was the butterflies. I must have been out of my mind.
And when I saw them dying by the
thousands, I... it was too much, Johnny."
"It was surreal in there. Kinda hellish. That would
mess with anybody's head.
How are you feeling now?" Gage asked.
"I'm tired. Can I sleep?"
Patty mumbled.
"Yep. These are chemicals, not a head injury. I'll keep her safe, too." he
smiled,
turning the flower pot around so Burns could see the monarch
easier. "So don't worry."
Johnny
watched as the exhausted vet hospital secretary drifted into dreams.
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