by Jamie Davis
“I think so,” Gibbie said. “I just need to get over this first.” He held up his bandaged hands.
“It’s no hurry,” Dean said. “We’ll need some time to gather the resources to teach the class. I don’t think we can use the regular CERT instructors. They don’t know about Unusuals. You get well, and get your list of interested friends together. I’ll work with Brynne to figure out how we can get your training done.”
“That’s great news, Dean,” Gibbie said excitedly. “These burned hands won’t hold me back for long. I just need to feed and spend some time regenerating. Burns don’t heal completely in vampires but aside from some scars, I’ll be as good as new in a week or so. It’s going to be great! Me, responding right alongside you and Brynne!”
“Hold on there, dude,” Dean said holding up his hands. “Part of the training is going to be following a chain of command and knowing when to respond, and when not to respond. If you just show up at the wrong time and place, you can get in our way and cause more harm than good. Let’s just get the training squared away, first. Then we can look into how and where we can collaborate.”
The conversation continued all the way to the Burn Center. Gibbie was excitedly explaining how he was going to help, and Dean was carefully pointing out how the middle-aged vampire had a lot to learn about how emergency operations worked. The good thing was that the conversation distracted Gibbie from his painful injuries. Distraction was an effective pain management tool, too, Dean reminded himself as he realized they had talked all the way to the hospital. He prepped his patient to take inside as Brynne backed up to the ambulance entrance. Distraction also helped with grief, he thought as he remembered Freddy. Brynne popped open the doors to the rear of the ambulance, and the two paramedics rolled their patient into the emergency department and up to the burn center.
* * *
———
* * *
Soon they were rolling the newly cleaned and made up stretcher back into the ambulance bay to load it onto the ambulance. As he waited for Brynne to open the back doors, his phone chirped in his pocket. He absently glanced at it and froze. It was a text from Zach.
“I wonder if he knew it was his last meal? You’ve made your choice, The Cause has made theirs.”
Tears of rage and guilt welled up in his eyes. Was this all his fault? Did Freddy die tonight because of him? Brynne noticed his reaction and raised an eyebrow in question. He held out the phone and showed her the screen of Zach’s text.
“Damn,” she said. “We’ve got to report this. I’m sure they know that it was arson, but this is a different matter. This makes it some sort of a hate crime. Come on. Let’s get loaded up and get back to the station. I want to call headquarters on this and talk to the chief. This cannot go out over the radio.”
Dean nodded. This was too volatile to be broadcast over the open airwaves. This was signaling the start of a war.
11
The next few days were a whirlwind of meetings, investigatory events, and ambulance calls. The Elk City police detective and the fire department arson investigator both wanted to see the text conversations with Zach on Dean’s phone. He was worried they might implicate him in some way, but Brynne had looked at them and said he had nothing to worry about. Brynne also told him that James had been in some high-level city meetings about the potential for more attacks and violence directed at the Unusual community. She said James’ biggest concern was to maintain secrecy about the community. The Mayor was worried that the Unusuals might take some action on their own part. Their carefully crafted joint society and community was unraveling.
All the Station U crews were pulled together on two different occasions for additional scene safety and situational awareness training. While there was no evidence that The Cause was going to target humans, there was a fear that one of their paramedics would get caught in the crossfire. Ashley told Dean that the hospital had done some drills and there was a constant security presence in the ER now that hadn’t been there before. Everyone was very much on edge. Dean had asked if there would be any funeral for Freddy but Brynne said that there was no body recovered. The zombie chef had burned to dust in his fragile, partially decomposed state. That made him sad. He felt like he needed to do something. He ate the leftovers from Freddy’s last meal almost reverently, savoring each bite.
He was just finishing up the last bite when there was a tap at the door to the parking lot. Dean got up to answer it and was stunned to see Freddy standing there.
“Freddy,” Dean shouted. “We all thought you were dead.”
“Rumors of my demise were slightly exaggerated,” the zombie’s raspy voice sounded even worse since the fire. He shambled into the room.
Brynne came running over at Dean’s shouted greeting and grabbed the undead chef in an earnest but gentle hug. “What happened? Where have you been?”
“I was able to open the back bedroom window after I realized that I couldn’t leave by the front door. I lost a few fingers forcing the old window jam to work but I made it out ahead of the fire. I took off for the woods and hid in an old-hollowed out tree trunk for the last few days. Whoever wanted me dead might still have it in for me.”
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go. That trailer was so beat up and run-down that it was abandoned. That is the only way I could live there,” Freddy said. “I was kind of hoping you guys would have some ideas. I could stay here and cook and clean for you guys, kind of keep up the quarters while you all are out on calls.”
“Wow, Freddy, I don’t know,” Brynne said. “We might be able to work something out, but if headquarters ever found out you were living here they’d have a hissy fit over it.”
“I’m not really alive so I wouldn’t be living here anyway,” Freddy explained. “I don’t sleep so I could just hang out on a permanent basis, at least for a little while.”
Dean looked at Brynne and caught her eye. “A little home-cooked food every shift might be a welcome addition to our station, eh, Boss?”
“I’ll have to run this by the other Station U medics before it becomes anything like a permanent set-up,” Brynne said. “Still, you can’t just be outside in the elements and scaring the residents. You can stay for now.”
Freddy gave one of his hideous, gap-toothed grins and moved over to the kitchen area. “I’ll whip something up for you both, you will see. You won’t be sorry I’m around.”
Dean just shrugged and went along, grateful that the undead chef was still around after all. He could tell from the way Brynne stared after the zombie as he shuffled over to the kitchenette in the station, that she felt the same way.
There was some more good news later in that shift. Headquarters approved getting some training together for Gibbie and his newly assembled crew of Unusual first responders. The middle-aged vampire had gathered four other like-minded Unusuals for the class and Dean and Brynne were assigned to do the CERT training. The CERT program was laid out by FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, and there were grant funds to pay the overtime needed for the instructors. Dean had to admit the extra money was good, and he was excited to share his knowledge with the students in the class. It also felt good to be on the other side of the student-teacher relationship for a change.
* * *
———
* * *
The first group of Unusual CERT students was an eclectic group, most strange in some way, just like Gibbie. There was a teenaged female werewolf named Marian Gregory. There were twin Dryads. Dean had learned they were some sort of tree fairies of Greek myth. Wim and Dora were both shy, but said they were determined to do something to help their community. Dean and Brynne were surprised to see a name they recognized on the class list. Kristof Algar, the Djinn, who owned Sabatani’s restaurant. He told both of them at the first class session that he wanted to be ready to help a patron or employee at his restaurant in case of an injury. Freddy joined in the classes, too, and
made light snacks for the group while they learned.
They held the classes at Station U rather than the academy, as was usual, so they could talk freely about Unusual topics and work those special discussions into the class structure. The class was held on Tuesday evenings from seven to ten, and it lasted for seven weeks. During that time, Dean and Brynne continued their regularly assigned duty schedule except on those Tuesday evenings. Then they were covered by the day shift crew until ten, when they took over the ambulance again after class. The CERT class was as fun for Dean as he hoped it was for the students. They covered disaster preparedness, fire and disaster medical operations, and some light search and rescue operations. They also covered CERT and disaster response structure and organization.
When the seven weeks of CERT training were completed, the Chief came by the station to award the new Unusual CERT team their certificates and congratulate them on completion of the course. He also told Dean and Brynne that he was encouraged by their initiative in getting this program off the ground for the Unusual community. He hoped this would go a long way to smooth things over after the attacks perpetrated by The Cause.
There had been no other attacks or overt activity since the fire. The intense police and arson investigation seemed to have driven The Cause members underground. Zach had probably destroyed his phone and gotten a new number because they had been unable to trace the other one. The detective told Dean to be on the lookout for new texts and contacts from Zach, or others in The Cause. Dean and Brynne had told the Chief about their suspicions that Mike Farver was involved with The Cause somehow, but nothing had changed there. He was still teaching in the academy. Brynne told him that the Chief and investigators had looked at Mike for a link to The Cause, but there had been no apparent connection to Zach or the fire. If Mike was involved as more than a sympathizer, he had covered his tracks well.
Once the CERT class was done and the investigation had died down, things went back to normal. Dean was glad for the return to the regular routine. Teaching the class had been fun but it was a lot of work prepping for each class. He hadn’t been able to see Ashley as much as he wanted either, primarily because of the increased workload for both of them. She was planning on meeting him after the day’s shift for dinner. It would be the first chance they had to see each other in over a week. He couldn’t wait, but of course he had to. Their date was after his day at work, and soon the tones sounded overhead on the speakers to alert them for the next call.
“Medical Box 634, Ambulance One-Nine-One respond for female overdose patient, 1237 Highpoint Road.”
* * *
———
* * *
As they pulled out of the station, Dean put them on the road via the radio, and switched to the med channel to get the additional information from dispatch. The only information the dispatcher had was they were responding for a female in her twenties, discovered unconscious on the side of the road by some bystanders. Dean operated the siren as Brynne wove the ambulance through the afternoon traffic to the scene of the call on a street that bordered a tree-lined park. There were several people around a girl laying on the grass near a tree, next to the sidewalk. The two paramedics grabbed their gear and headed over to her.
“We were doing our daily walking laps in the park,” said an elderly man. “We found her laying there in the grass, unconscious. We thought maybe she was a kid who’d had too much to drink last night but we couldn’t wake her up at all, so we called 911.”
Dean knelt down next to her, smelled the acrid odor of urine, and looked at the large wet patch extending from the crotch in her blue jeans. She was barely breathing so he put a mask with oxygen on her face while he continued his assessment. He checked her eyes and saw pinpoint pupils and excessive tears forming as he was watching. It was weird. It was like it was a poisoning, not an overdose. He said as much to Brynne while he attached the heart monitor, which showed a slow heart rate called bradycardia. He had to wipe her chest and arms down to get the sticky patches to attach because she was so sweaty.
“Let’s call the poison center and medical control and get them to check this out. They might be able to help us identify the problem,” Brynne said. She pulled out the portable radio and keyed the mic. “Dispatch, patch the poison center and ECMC medical control into this channel for a consult.”
They continued to assess the patient while they waited for the radio patch to be completed.
“Ambulance U-One-Nine-One,” the dispatcher said over the radio. “You have poison control and ECMC ER on the med channel.”
Brynne handed him the radio for the consult. “Poison Control and ECMC,” Dean began. “I have an apparent 22 year-old female found unconscious in a wooded park by bystanders. She has a pulse of 42, blood pressure of 90/40, respirations of 6, and pinpoint pupils. She is not alert and has voided urine. There are no overt signs of trauma or drug abuse on assessment. We currently have her on oxygen and an IV established and are preparing to assist with ventilations.”
“One-Nine-One, this is the poison center. Is she diaphoretic?” a voice said over the radio.
Dean remembered the sweaty state of his patient when attaching the heart monitor patches. “Affirmative, Poison Center, she is diaphoretic.”
“Is there any sign of pesticides nearby? Maybe a can of spray or something like that?”
“No, nothing like that in the vicinity, Poison Control. We are in a park and not near any residences,” Dean replied.
“My recommendation would be to administer two milligrams IV Atropine to this patient every five to ten minutes and transport immediately to the hospital for further monitoring and treatment. All the signs point to an organophosphate poisoning,” the poison center voice responded.
“This is ECMC medical control,” came another voice. “I concur with assessment and treatment. Recontact as necessary en route.”
“Received on two milligrams Atropine IV every five to ten minutes,” Dean repeated the orders. “Will transport to ECMC presently.”
He looked around and then at Brynne. Organophosphate poisoning usually meant pesticide exposure. “Where did she get into pesticides?” he asked. “I don’t see anything around here in the park.” Brynne shrugged as she pulled two pre-loaded Atropine syringes from the med bag beside her on the ground.
The elderly man who was one of the couple who found the girl spoke up. “I think they sprayed the trees here last night. We complained about how bad the mosquitoes and other bugs were getting in the evenings,” he said. “I don’t know how she got in that spray unless she had rubbed the leaves all over her, or spent the night in the tree or something.”
Dean and Brynne’s eyes met as he said that last bit. Dean nodded. It might not make sense to the older gentleman but it sort of made sense to him and his partner, especially if this girl was a Dryad. The tree nymphs, or wood fairies, were bonded to specific trees in a wooded area and actually lived in them, although Dean wasn’t sure how that worked. If she had been inside when the trees were sprayed, it was possible she got gassed by the passing cloud of pesticides from the trucks doing the spraying. It didn’t change their treatment, but it confirmed the poison center’s initial diagnosis.
Brynne started slowly administering the IV Atropine while Dean went back to the ambulance to get the stretcher. When he returned with it, Brynne was finishing up the first syringe of the drug. He started getting ready to lift the small girl onto the stretcher as soon as Brynne was finished the second syringe, completing the two milligram dose. Together the two paramedics lifted her onto the stretcher and gathered up all their gear, stacking it around the patient before taking her back to the ambulance for transport to the hospital. As they were loading her inside, Dean noticed her starting to stir, her hand coming up to her face to push at the oxygen mask there.
“You’re ok,” he said, reassuring her. “I’m Dean, a paramedic. We found you next to the trees and think you were injured by a pesticide spray last night.” Her eyes fluttered open. He
leaned over so she could see him, and smiled down at her. “It’s going to be alright.”
“I-I feel so tired,” she said in a weak voice.
“That’s normal,” Dean reassured her. “What’s your name? Do you remember anything from last night or early this morning?”
“I’m Daphne,” she said. “I remember hearing the trucks, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. I hear traffic going by my tree all the time. You think it was spraying the trees with something and that’s what did this to me?”
“They sprayed for bugs overnight,” he said. “The effects of the spray they probably used matches your symptoms. That’s our best guess, and you seem to be responding to our treatments for that problem, too.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. Dean checked the monitor. Her heart rate was faster and her breathing was approaching normal. He checked his watch and got two more Atropine syringes ready to give her at the ten minute mark. That would be right before they arrived at the hospital. They could treat the symptoms for now, until her body processed the poison out of her system naturally.
* * *
———
* * *
They were moving the girl from the stretcher to a hospital gurney when Ashley came into the ER room.
“Hi, Dean. Hi, Brynne,” she said cheerfully. “What do we have today?” She logged into the computer workstation on the wall while she talked.
“This is Daphne,” Dean said. “She’s a Dryad. She was in her tree when a municipal pesticide spraying program blasted her tree with a suspected organophosphate insecticide. She’s responded well to two doses of Atropine two milligrams IV. The last dose was just about five minutes ago.”