Rob came out of the break room. “Can we do Hannah next? She has to be in terrible pain, but she soldiers on.”
“Is the mini surgery clear?”
“I think so.”
She heard laughter and a rise in conversation coming from the waiting room. Now what? She continued on to the waiting room. With grins wide enough to stuff a controlled-substance report into, Dennis was carrying a big plastic bin and Yvette was shoving a gurney through the door. No patient, though—plastic and cardboard boxes took up the space, with a large coffee urn jiggling dangerously at the foot.
Behind them, Gerty Larson and Ellen Jackson came trooping in. Esther knew them, had treated them both. Why were they up at this hour and smiling?
Dennis called, “All you folks stay where you are, and these angels of mercy will bring this around. We have sandwiches, coffee, and juice for the children.” He put his plastic bin down and popped the lid. Yvette opened the boxes on the gurney.
Ellen gestured with a plastic pitcher. “I’m doing the juice. Children first, and then adults can have what’s left. We’re preparing more over at the church, so don’t worry about taking the last of anything.”
Gerty pulled out a plastic tray, put a creamer and sugar jar on it, and began pouring coffee into paper cups.
Rob appeared in the hall entry, swore a very happy Anglo-Saxon epithet, and gathered juice and sandwiches in both hands. “For the Gustafsons in two!”
Esther let herself sag against the wall. Thank God for church women who would feed people no matter how the storm raged. How they had done this, she’d probably never know, but when Dennis handed her a sandwich she simply took it and thanked him.
Dennis wasn’t losing that glorious smile. “They have that refugee shelter set up in our church basement. Really chugging along. Harry in the power truck went to the grocery store and stocked them up with food and stuff; grocery didn’t even charge them. Thank God for their oversize generator; it’s big enough to handle all this. We can move some of these people over fairly soon, I would think.”
Esther bit into her sandwich and accepted the cup of coffee. One more minute, if I can have just one more minute. Seven forty-five. Maybe she was going to make it. Maybe they were all going to make it.
“Esther?” Ben beckoned her from the surgery. “We have Hannah ready.”
“Did you take an X-ray?”
He shook his head. “I’m a border patrol officer and a hospital administrator, remember? I don’t know how to use that machine.”
“Wheel her down to radiology and we’ll start there.” Radiology. Sounded so big-city, and it was essentially a closet pressed into use because it was big enough to hold the machine.
Ben was asking, “No X-ray technician in this town?”
“One, but I haven’t heard from her all night.” Surely if all were well, Susan would have checked in.
Ben was sure chatty. Annoyingly so. She didn’t need noise, not even his rat-a-tat monologue. “The repeater’s down and our only radio communication is with each other. Local. The ham operators, though, they’ve been bouncing signals around and made contact with a friend of a friend…you know how they do. Minor miracles sometimes.”
No, Esther did not know how they did or what they did. And she didn’t want to. But she anticipated that she was about to find out.
Ben rolled on. “They made contact with Minneapolis, who put the word out. Choppers are lined up to come in as soon as the weather permits, and half a dozen ambulances are waiting until the roads are cleared enough for them to get here. And they told ’em we’re out of blood and saline and everything else. So we have blood and bags coming, lots of units.”
“Good.” She finished her sandwich and tossed the plastic bag in the trash, then headed down the hall as Ben went off to fetch Hannah. Three people stirred from their places against the wall or on the floor.
“Is it morning?” one asked. The wrapping around her leg was bloody and she groaned when she tried to scoot back against the wall.
“It is. There is food available in the waiting room if you can make it down there. Or send someone and they’ll come to you.”
The others woke and hobbled or helped each other down the hall, two with obvious wounds and the third assisting.
Esther pushed open the door to the X-ray room, heaved a sigh, and turned on the machine. “What did you do with the baby?” she asked as Ben pushed Hannah’s wheelchair into the room.
“Ansel is holding her. He said to tell you that the guy on the gurney needs to be knocked out again.”
“Maybe we should just put him outside. Get a shower and clean up his act.” Esther clamped her teeth. Talk about inappropriate. She heaved a heavy breath. “Sorry, Hannah, that just slipped out.”
The woman rolled her lips together, laughter dancing in her eyes. “I thought just that. Makes me feel better that someone else feels the same.”
“I think Ansel would rather take on a roomful of snakes than put up with the likes of him. The dude’s not happy he’s tied down.” Ben studied their patient. “Hannah, we have to get you up on that table.”
Esther closed her eyes. “Get some help in here.” She pushed the machine on the overhead track into place and slapped two lead pads on the table.
“Sorry to be so much trouble.”
“Oh, Hannah, you might be the one who saved that baby’s life last night. We just have to work out some logistics here.”
“Get me on my feet, er, foot, and let me lean on Ben. We’ll manage.”
Ben came through the door with Rob on his heels. Between the two of them they got Hannah prone on the table and stepped back when Esther told them to leave. “No, I mean outside the door.” She slammed the negatives into place, positioned the overhead with the marks on the table, and stepped behind the shield. “Hold it; no movement, don’t breathe.” Click. “Okay, Hannah, breathe.” By the time they took one more and got Hannah back in the chair, tears were streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffed and patted her pockets for a tissue.
Esther handed her the box from the shelf by the door. “Let me check these. It will take a moment to develop them.”
Develop X-ray films. That had gone out with buggy whips and horizontal-control knobs on TV sets. A good, modern, digital X-ray machine didn’t cost all that much, provided a high-resolution picture, and she could have the results instantly with no trouble at all. Snap the shot and look at it, just like that. Snap another if you need a different angle. Then send it all to the monitor in the surgery. But no. The Frugal Fathers of this burg didn’t want to buy an X-ray machine when the clinic already had one that still worked. She really, really wished she could strangle the Frugal Fathers.
Back in the mini surgery, she snapped the X-rays into the light box on the wall. Rob and Ben peered over Hannah’s shoulder, so she explained to them all, pointing. “Here is an obvious break in the lower tibia.”
“Not obvious to me,” Rob interrupted.
“Well, it would be more obvious were the swelling not so bad. This is going to require surgery, but by a good orthopedic surgeon, not us here. And it can’t happen until the swelling goes down. An inflatable splint might help, but we don’t have one of the appropriate size and shape. We may try taping it. So, Hannah, we’ll get you set up with ice packs and more pain meds and…”
“And I can have my baby back?”
“Yes, you can, with all our gratitude.” She looked to Ben. “You can do this?”
“Taping it as in taping an athlete’s ankle before the game?”
“That kind of tape job.”
“We’ll take care of it. Can’t be harder than diapering that baby.”
Hannah punched him on the arm. “Keep your priorities right, son, or I’ll sic my dog on you.”
“Doctor!” The call came from down the hall.
Esther spun and headed out the door. Denise. There must be a change. “Coming, Roy.” She jogged instead of running because a casual
jog was the absolute greatest speed she could muster anymore. She entered without knocking.
Rob looked worried. “She’s awake or at least conscious, but…well, look at the machine there. It’s different, sort of.”
Loud and clear, the green line tracking across the screen told the world that Denise’s heart was struggling desperately. Even Roy, probably untrained to read an EKG, could see that. Some of the spikes were starting to lose their sharp points, the wrong spikes you wanted doing that. And there was a short straight line where a line of gentle wiggles should be.
A knock at the door. Barbara poked her head in and her voice bubbled. “Choppers are on their way!”
Oh, thank God! For the first time in—well, in forever—a wave of happy relief washed across her. Esther smiled at Roy. “You heard her.”
Roy closed his eyes and nodded. “Please, God, that she makes it.”
“She’ll make it now. Those birds are equipped with all kinds of fluids and better monitors than ours.” Esther turned to see Ben at the doorway.
He was grinning. “Heard the news? Gimme your car keys. We’re clearing the parking lot by the side doors for them to land.”
“Good choice. No power lines there.” She dug into her pocket and handed him her keys.
“No power lines anywhere.” He jogged out.
The cleaning kid came in. “Did you hear?”
“We did! Go find me a gurney. This one will be first in line to go.”
“I’ll get one!” And out he raced.
Back with her patient, Esther listened to lungs and heart. Slow and heavy, definitely weaker. She prepared the IV site for transport.
“Roy? Unplug the machine, please.”
“Don’t we want to keep track—”
“We will. It has lots of battery, and they have a defib on board.” She leaned over their patient. “Denise, can you hear me?”
A slight nod. Very slight.
“Hang in there. Help is nearly here.”
Another nod, or was it only a flutter of eyelashes? Esther turned to Roy. “You been in a chopper before?”
He shook his head. “No. Will they let me go along?”
“We’ll have to see if there’s room, since you probably can’t drive there yet.” She ran through the list of patients in her mind. The only other one was the femoral artery. And Hannah. Hannah for sure before that guy. No one else, was there?
Ben came in shoving a gurney ahead of him, with the cleaning kid right behind.
“Ben? How many can ride in the chopper?”
“Lots. They brought in the Chinook. It’s better in heavy weather. Sorry there’s no sheet here, but we have none.”
“Okay.” She turned to Roy. “Pull out that roll of paper and put it down on the gurney. I was hoping to use a sheet to move her.” She laid the defibrillator on Denise’s chest; the abdomen felt drumhead-tight. The green line seemed to falter a bit as it tracked across. Bad connection?
Ben wiggled a finger. “Gary? You can help. We can do this. Stand there. We reach across the gurney, lift, slide her toward us. Don’t have to elevate her any farther than just to get her on the gurney. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” He appeared just plain eager.
“Roy, here.” Ben lined them up, and Esther let him. He was doing fine, and she was too weary to think any farther than necessary. She’d do the head and the IV. Let them do the heavy lifting.
Ben instructed, “We all move on three. One; two—”
“Listen! I think I hear the chopper.” Roy turned his head to hear better.
“Okay, three.” They all lifted at approximately the same time and drew her over onto the gurney beside the examining table.
As if on cue, Rob called from the doorway, “Chopper’s here.”
Ben barked, “Tell ’em in here.”
Roy leaned over his wife’s face. “Hang in there, sweetheart. Come on, stay with us.”
Esther happened to glance at the defib monitor. “Oh, my God!” Quickly she cranked the volume up. “No!”
The thin green line had gone flat.
The defibrillator’s monotone took over, instructing them all to stand back, announcing the shock.
Denise’s whole body jumped. The cleaning kid gasped. The green line made a wild spike, another, dropped to flat again. The defibrillator continued its dispassionate monotone, urging them all to stand clear for another try.
Esther’s heart leaped. “Come on, Denise! You can’t do this. Not now!”
The defibrillator jolted her again. The line blipped a couple of times and went flat.
Two men in jumpsuits came jogging into the room. “We’ve got her.” They shoved the gurney out the door with Roy right behind. But Esther knew better.
Ben slammed his hand on the examining table—and swore.
Esther found herself sobbing, leaning on her stiffened arms against the bed. “We lost her.”
Chapter Seven
You will not cry! No crying now, you hear? her mother’s voice, harsh and critical, screamed at her. Mother the avid feminist didn’t abide crying; liberated women didn’t do that.
“Esther?” The voice came again as from a far, far distance. “Esther!”
Pay attention! Get back into it! Esther wanted to ignore that internal order but her sense of duty won out—finally. By this time, the voice had taken on a note of command or demand. Whichever wasn’t important.
“Yes.”
Barbara heaved a sigh of relief. “Chief is here, and he really wants to talk with you.”
“All right.” Esther straightened her shoulders to go to her office and realized she was already in her office. When had she come in here? What time was it? Welcome back to the real world. The voice in her head spoke in full-blown sarcasm now. How long had she been gone?
Chief loomed in the doorway. He looked as beaten down as she felt. She pointed to the chair, still trying to orient herself, to stabilize. “Are you all right?” Chief didn’t take the chair, choosing instead to lean against the closed door frame.
Be honest? Cover up? She shook her head. “Are any of us all right after all this?”
“Ben said—”
“Said what?” she interrupted. “Look, we all had a bad time here and most of us got through it.”
Chief nodded, his jaw firm to belie the warmth in his brown eyes. “You’re right. We’ll do our Monday-morning quarterbacking some other time. He was just concerned about you, and since it’s been a long time since he showed concern for anyone else, I figured it must be pretty serious. You know that anytime you need to talk, I know how to keep a confidence.”
“Thank you.” Easy to say, not easy to do, especially if you think others might be at risk.
She glanced at her watch while trying not to be obvious about it.
“I know, there are still mountains to climb.” He pulled himself away from the wall. “The supplies that first chopper brought are stacked in the hallway.”
As far as she could tell, she’d only been gone five minutes or so. Had her watch stopped or something?
“They unloaded while moving Mrs. Abrams out. They worked on her, too, but they’ve not had any more success than you did.”
“You heard from them?”
“Yes. They are calling it DOA. Esther, you did the best you could, you know that?”
She sniffed and nodded. Let’s change the subject. “How soon until the next one lands?”
“About three minutes. Ben is taking care of the order. We haven’t been able to go house-to-house yet, but the base was able to get us some trucks, so that’s next up. Don’t know how many injuries are still out there; there might be more who couldn’t get in to the clinic. I know this sounds crazy, but is there anything you don’t need here?”
She smirked, short of a smile. “Ask Ben, he’s gone searching for supplies more than I have. The ambulances are out of everything, too. Critical stuff first.” She paused. “How bad is it still out there?”
“Winds a
bout twenty, gusting higher, pouring rain, river nearly to the banks. I’ve asked for help, but getting equipment in is another equation. The power company is doing all they can.”
She heard a chopper, even above the banging of something that must have broken loose, or almost. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be all right.”
He stared at her a moment longer, then opened the door. The folks in the waiting room were louder now, and she could hear Ben giving instructions. Back to the fray. She headed to the break room where Ansel and Ellen Jackson were caring for the babies.
Esther watched a moment. “You know, you four are the bright spots for all of us.”
“They put Hannah on the first chopper. She was a bright spot.”
“I know.” At least she remembered giving that order. “Anything you need?”
“Other than a home to go back to, not immediately.”
“You and half the town.” For the first time Esther thought of her little house. Had it made it through? For the first time, too, she was grateful she had no pets to worry about. Denise had lost her life because of her attempt to rescue a dog. Esther knew she would have done the same thing, especially if her cat had still been alive.
Leaving the sanctuary of peace and back in the hall, she could hear a man giving orders—not Ben, a different voice. She made her way through those still lining the hallway, nodding her greetings and assessing distress as she went. They still had plenty of work to do here. And sure enough, that was the blip of the ambulance. She turned and headed back to the emergency entrance instead.
The double doors slid open. “Is the surgery clear?” Dennis asked from the rear of the gurney. Yvette trotted beside him, keeping pressure on the bright scarlet rag wrapped around Chickie’s arm. Why had the Patersons named their boy Chick? And of course, at age thirteen he’d be Chickie. He looked pale, so he’d been losing blood awhile. He gave her a wan smile. She returned it. She had seen him through mumps, measles, and chicken pox so far. His parents were not big on immunization.
“Clear but…” Esther had no idea what was available.
A strong male voice called from the hall. “Bring that gurney right on through to the back door. We have better facilities on the chopper.”
Wake the Dawn Page 7