URGENT CARE

by Alexander, Hannah

  She hadn’t been raised in church the way so many of their members had. She’d attended vacation Bible school a couple of times and every so often a neighbor had taken her to Sunday school at the Methodist church in Kimberling City. That was when she’d first been told about the perfect love of a heavenly Father, which had seemed much less real to her than the distracted, irritable love of her very earthly, overworked father.

  She didn’t come to understand the powerful concept of God’s love until after she’d begun to sing professionally in Branson. There, when she found herself in desperate circumstances with a suicidal sister, she met Archer Pierce, who introduced her to some people who were able to show her more fully the complete love of Christ. Her heart had been transformed by that love. Now she poured out her worship when she sang before audiences consisting of tourists from all over the world.

  “We could have a special church night at the theater when you’re singing, Jessica,” Lauren said. “Or maybe you could have a praise concert at our church.”

  “Lauren, be serious, dear,” Helen said.

  “I am serious. I betcha it wouldn’t take much convincing to get my old church in Knolls to join us. We could pass the collection plate and forward the proceeds to help some local families with groceries. There you’d have your hospitality.”

  “How is that going to help Jessica get acquainted with the women in the church?” Helen asked.

  “Once they’ve seen and heard her, they’ll definitely understand her better through the music God gives her to sing. I say give people in the church a chance to worship with the real Jessica Pierce.”

  Jessica felt a silly grin spread across her face. No wonder Archer liked Lauren McCaffrey so much. What wasn’t there to like?

  Helen frowned. “Don’t you think it would be a little ostentatious to—?”

  “Have you ever been to one of Jessica’s shows, Helen?” Lauren asked.

  “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure but I’ve heard her sing in church several times.”

  The public alert siren blared more loudly and police sirens joined it, intruding over the laughter and chatter in the basement. A tiny shock coursed through Jessica. She saw Lauren’s face freeze, her right hand suspended in midair for several seconds as the raucous sound filled the basement.

  “How about a quick prayer service?” Jessica asked.

  “Sounds good to me,” Lauren said.

  ***

  In the OR, Mitchell suppressed his fear. The roar of the wind had stopped but the number of sirens increased. Not a good sign. There were no windows in this room and this hospital was solidly built. Besides, they had no choice. Joanne Bonus was still in seizure. If they took her back downstairs to escape possible storm damage they would be risking her life and the life of her baby.

  He used Valium in a partially successful attempt to control Joanne’s seizure long enough to work on her abdomen. Muriel assisted in the sterile field with Beau circulating and keeping them supplied with what they needed. As Mitchell had expected, the kid knew what he was doing.

  Grant stood by to help where he could and then tend to the baby after it was delivered.

  Although the seizure indicated an altered level of consciousness, Mitchell used a local anesthetic just in case Joanne was able to feel pain when he made the incisions.

  He gave orders for meds just before he made the final incision and then quickly, before that drug could reach the infant through the mother, he lifted the slippery baby from his cozy spot, handed him to Grant, cut the cord. The healthy-looking baby boy was fully formed, good sized—perhaps a little over six pounds. Joanne’s seizure ended almost immediately. Even as Mitchell examined her uterus, Joanne moaned in pain.

  “She’s starting to feel it,” Muriel said.

  “She’ll be okay soon.”

  “Blood pressure is dropping already,” Muriel said.

  Exactly as it should be. Mitchell reached for the suture supplies Muriel had prepared for him. In the past few years he had taken on fewer obstetric cases and now he wondered if that had been the right choice. Yes, it was a high-risk occupation and one bad outcome could wipe out the livelihood of a good doctor. And yet... there was something about bringing a new life into the world that could make all the middle-of-the-night calls worthwhile. Besides, his soon-to-be-ex wife was doing a perfectly good job of wiping out his livelihood now.

  How could he have forgotten the excitement?

  He knew how. In the past two years, every time he delivered a baby, he couldn’t prevent the mental picture of his own tiny granddaughter who had been poisoned by her mother’s habit.

  The patient moaned more softly this time.

  “We’ll have you sutured up soon, Joanne,” he said. “Dr. Sheldon, how’s the baby?”

  “Strong heart rate, pink, mild respiratory depression initially. Excellent five-minute Apgar test scores.” Grant held the baby up for the others to see. “Beau, you’ve assisted with your first C-section. How does it feel?”

  “Like I could do this for the rest of my life,” his son replied.

  Mitchell allowed himself a brief nod of satisfaction. Maybe it had been a good night to come to the hospital, after all.

  Chapter Four

  Archer noticed the branch outside the hallway window had gone still, the corridors silent.

  Mr. Horner touched Archer’s arm then gestured to his ear.

  Archer listened. At first it sounded like a locomotive was rumbling by on the train track downhill from the hospital but the rumbling grew louder. Others heard it and called out in fear. Fiona Perkins screamed and someone snapped at her to get downstairs.

  Mr. Horner gave a great spasmodic shudder and gripped Archer’s hand.

  “It’ll be okay.” Archer pulled the blankets over Mr. Horner and stuffed the pillows more firmly against the railings of the bed, then climbed over the rails onto the bed to block the patient from any flying debris.

  The raucous noise filled the corridors and blasted him with the sound of a dozen charging locomotives. Archer braced himself, praying hard.

  ***

  “Look at the trees!” someone cried from the front of the church.

  Two limbs at least ten feet long and as thick as a man’s thigh whipped across the parking lot on a destructive course, slamming from car to windshield to car. Thunder shook the building and roared like an angry T-rex.

  “That isn’t thunder!” Jessica cried. She reached for Lauren as the roar of a jet during takeoff blasted through the basement.

  Two audacious teenagers rushed toward the windows and pointed. Norville Webster ran out from behind the table barricade after them. “Get back! Get to the back of the—”

  The outer doors flew open as if a huge vacuum had sucked them outward. Darkness blanketed the basement. Jessica shoved Lauren behind the kitchen counter and dove after her as rocks and limbs and glass invaded their safe haven.

  “Everybody get down!” Jessica cried but the attack of sound blasted her words back at her. She and Lauren huddled against the wall.

  Something smacked the cabinet beside them with the sound of a rifle shot and Jessica cried out. Lauren put an arm around her and drew her closer.

  The roar thrust at them with rage, closing in with increased force. Jessica said a final prayer and waited to die, unable to think, unable to grieve her own impending death, incapable of conscious thought as the sound of the diabolical storm invaded her mind.

  ***

  Archer mouthed a continuous prayer as he endured the assault of the terrifying noise combined with the vibration of the bed. He heard a crack of shattering glass and another scream. Someone rushed past him with a mattress and shoved it against the broken window to block the wind.

  Nothing flew at them and nothing toppled onto them from above. The lights didn’t even go out because the hospital was already on auxiliary power.

  Archer dared to raise his head and look down the hallway to see how the others were faring. He saw one of the nu
rses shielding a patient with her body, saw another patient attempting to climb from his bed in a panic. One of the fire fighters rushed to him and restrained him—barely preventing him from ripping the IV tube from his arm.

  There was another scream and Archer covered his ears.

  ***

  Mitchell was placing his final layer of sutures when he heard the crash of breaking glass somewhere out in the hallway, felt the oppressive suction, heard the roar.

  “Lower the bed,” he told Muriel. “Don’t break sterile field.” He turned to find that Grant had already sent his son with the baby to safety. “Grant, come help us shield this patient.”

  They covered Joanne’s abdomen with a sterile cloth and lowered the bed almost to the floor, then knelt over her, locking arms to protect Joanne’s body with their own.

  ***

  Jessica. Archer could think of nothing else, no one else. What was happening to her? He’d insisted that she go to the church. What if he’d been wrong to send her there?

  The roar overwhelmed everything. Archer pressed his hands harder against his ears, waiting to be slammed with flying debris, waiting for the roof to be sucked up into the sky along with the inhabitants of this building. Lord, spare us.

  Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, the roar geared downward. Archer heard the echo of a roar, like a lion on the prowl in the distance, and then silence. Just that quickly.

  Afraid to trust his own senses, he remained huddled for another few seconds.

  Mr. Horner stirred at last. Voices skittered along the hallway, tentatively at first, as if afraid their words might trigger another attack, and then louder. Sighs of relief and exclamations of amazement reached them.

  Archer eased himself from the bed and looked around. Chunky, black-haired Fiona Perkins sat sobbing in the far right corner of the hallway. The firefighter who had rushed past them with the mattress lowered it enough to look outside into the darkness. Calm. Lightning flashed in the distance but the thunder diminished to bare rumbles. Archer breathed a quick prayer for others who might be in the path of the storm.

  This building had withstood the tornado. But what about his wife? What about the church?

  ***

  The attacker departed. For a moment, as Jessica continued to huddle next to Lauren, she wondered if the monster might return. The first thing she heard was the rhythmic drip of water from the eaves outside, then the cry of a frightened child somewhere at the far end of the basement.

  She opened her eyes to find Lauren watching her.

  “You okay, Jess?” Lauren’s breath smelled of peppermint.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “No damage I can tell.” She raised her head. “Mrs. Netz? You all right?”

  There was a low moan from the end of the counter just out of their sight. “I think so. You girls hurt?”

  “We’re okay,” Jessica said.

  Other voices reached her.

  “Anybody hurt?”

  “Was that really a tornado?”

  “You guys okay?”

  “Where’d the lights come from? I thought they got knocked out.”

  “We got battery packs, remember?”

  Jessica cautiously stood to her feet beside Lauren and peered over the counter into the recesses of the basement. The battery-pack lights left too many shadows. John Netz and two other men mingled through the frightened crowd with flashlights to check for injuries.

  “Nobody go outside yet,” John said in his booming voice. “We haven’t heard an all clear. Anybody hurt?”

  “Here! We got someone hurt over here!” came a cry from one of the church kids on the other side of the basement. “Glass cut her.”

  “I need to get over to them.” Lauren opened the kitchen drawer containing the towels. She took an armful of them and rushed across the debris-laden floor without waiting for an all clear. Norville Webster limped out to meet her.

  Jessica followed, nearly tripping over a limb that had blown into the church with the wind. “Be careful where you step,” she called. “There’s glass all over the place.” The smell of ozone hovered around them and Jessica felt the grit of dirt and broken shards of glass beneath her shoes.

  More people stood up from behind the tables that had served as a barricade against flying objects. She could only pray the tables had been effective.

  “Okay, folks, help each other out,” John said. “We got us a nurse here, so let’s start doing some checking. Make sure your neighbors are okay. Norville? Norville Webster, where are you? Help me with this table, will you?”

  There were moans and gasps of surprise, a few sobs, and then Helen Netz cried out from the front of the basement. “John, our car!”

  Others rushed to join her and peer into the darkness. Continued flashes of retreating lightning outlined the damage in the parking lot. Jessica wasn’t interested in checking the damage to her car just now. Still following Lauren, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched Archer’s number, praying the cell towers hadn’t been hit.

  “Let him be there,” she whispered. “Let him be safe.”

  When he answered she could have wept.

  “You’re alive,” she breathed.

  “Jessica, thank God!” Archer said. “You’re okay?”

  “Yes. Any damage there?”

  “Some broken windows. Nothing more that we’ve seen. A few stunned patients and a new baby, but no injuries from the wind. What’s going on at the church?”

  “We weren’t quite so fortunate.” She glanced toward Lauren, who was helping an older lady sit down on a chair that had been wiped clean of debris. “Archer, I have to let you go. I need to help Lauren.”

  “Wait, what’s happening? Has someone been hurt?”

  “The windows were blown out and there are some cuts. We’re not sure how bad the injuries are yet—we’re just now digging out.”

  “I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”

  ***

  Mitchell stepped out of OB and breezed his way along the corridor feeling more energized than he’d been in months. He’d received word that the only damage the hospital had suffered was broken windows and some wet floors. When he went downstairs to the ER to help with incoming patients, the maintenance men were pulling a twelve-foot-long tree limb from the middle of the waiting room—it had crashed through the plate-glass window on the north side. A hastily scrawled sign directed new patients down the hallway to the outpatient lab and radiology waiting room.

  The staff had already begun assisting patients into their rooms upstairs. Mitchell would check on his own as soon as he knew he wasn’t needed for emergencies.

  The ER teemed with patients. Every room but one was occupied. As he made his way to the central control desk he heard the secretary talking to Grant.

  “Dr. Sheldon, we got word from Jessica Pierce that there are some injuries at the church and I’m not sure if they can get a car out of the lot to bring them in. They apparently have some fallen trees. The ambulances are all busy. Archer’s on his way there.”

  “Did she say how many patients we might receive?”

  “Four at last count but they had quite a crowd and haven’t checked everyone yet.”

  “Have you heard anything from Lauren?”

  “Nothing. Sorry. I’ve called backup staff. Gina’s coming in from Respiratory and Eugene will be here any minute. I can’t find Lester.”

  “Keep trying.” Grant looked up and caught sight of Mitchell. “Good, you’re still here. Can you stay? We’ve got two ambulances coming in, two more injured coming by private car, and as you can see”—he gestured around the department—“we’re—”

  “I’ll stay.” Mitchell mentally switched gears again. In this department Dr. Grant Sheldon reigned supreme. Mitchell didn’t have to like it, he just had to take orders.

  “Thanks.” Grant handed him a chart. “Bad laceration, possibly a cracked skull. A limb hit his windshield. He’s in two.”

  Mitchell took the
chart, nodded, crossed the floor to see his patient.

  ***

  Archer parked on the street with his headlights aimed across the lower parking lot of the church. He caught his breath at first sight of the damage. Two ancient oak trees had been torn from the ground, roots and all, and one of them lay sprawled across seven cars. Windshields were broken, roofs caved in, hoods dented. Debris had damaged other automobiles in the lot. The Netz car had taken a hit from a limb. Jessica’s car, directly beside it, appeared unscathed, although he couldn’t see well enough to know for sure. Lauren’s gray pickup had a cracked windshield and a dented fender.

  Just as Jess had said, the basement doors and windows had been blown out. As Archer got out of his car, Lauren and Mr. Netz were helping an older lady through the gaping threshold of the basement.

  “Archer!” Lauren called when she spotted him. “Am I ever glad to see you. Mind if we commandeer your car? We’ve got a few injuries—some cuts from flying glass. I’d like to get these people to the hospital for some sutures.”

  “It’s unlocked so just load ‘em in there. Have you seen—”

  Slender arms grabbed him from behind in a death grip. He disentangled himself long enough to turn and assure himself that it was, indeed, his wife who held him.

  She pulled him back into an enthusiastic embrace. “I never want to go through that again,” came her muffled voice from his shoulder.

  He tried to gently draw her back so he could look into her face, smile into her eyes, convince her that everything was okay, but she wouldn’t budge. He looked up and encountered several smiles aimed in his direction from the people behind her.

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured in Jessica’s ear, “come to the hospital with me.”

  “You won’t have room in your car. I’ll try to get mine out of the tangle and follow you.”

  She sniffed and her shoulders trembled.

  He squeezed her more tightly. “It’s going to be okay, Jess. Look, I desperately want some time alone with you right now but I think you should drive my car and take those with the worst injuries to the hospital. I’ll stay here and help dig out and I’ll meet you in the ER as soon as I can.”