Radclyffe - Passion's Bright Fury

by Passion's Bright Fury (lit)

  Sax's grin widened. "No, I'm not. Just because I understand the game, doesn't mean I choose to play. I won't go away. I'll always know where you are."

  "Sax..." Jude began, but her words were drowned out by the descent of the helicopter, and Sax was already racing forward, one hand guiding a stretcher. Jude watched her go, and even though she knew the surgeon's mind was entirely focused on the wounded men being lowered from the helicopter onto the waiting gurneys, she felt connected. What they had shared in the night had not ended with the coming of the dawn or faded in the harsh, bright light of life on the front lines.

  "Are you getting it?" she shouted as she rested one hand on Mel's shoulder and steered her to an open space where the sight line was better for the camera, maneuvering her around the group of medical personnel administering to the injured almost before they had been lowered from the helicopter.

  "Of course I'm getting it," Mel shouted, never looking away from her viewfinder. She trusted Jude to make sure she didn't lose the top of her head to one of the rotor blades, because if she missed the shot, she'd lose her entire head to Jude's temper. "Just keep me in the clear and I'll get you what you want."

  "Roger that," Jude called, riding high as everything in her life came together almost as if it had been scripted-- she was doing the work she loved and watching the woman she lov... Oh, no. Do not go there. No, no, no. Not now. No way.

  Jude kept well back as Sax swung the gurney around, Deb steering the second one, and they all headed down the ramp toward the elevators at a run. Running to keep pace, Jude tried not to think about how mindshatteringly sexy Sax looked.

  *****

  En route to the trauma admitting area, both men had already received pain medication and loading doses of antibiotics. One had been intubated by the paramedics, and the breathing tube extending from his trachea had been connected to a respirator. Sinclair and Stein bent over him, discussing the plan of action in low measured tones. Jude and Mel edged closer to capture both the picture and the sound.

  "What's his pO2?" Sax asked.

  "Lousy--eighty-four on a hundred percent oxygen," Stein replied, glancing at a computer printout she had just collected from a nearby terminal. "His carbon dioxide level is high despite being ventilated, too."

  "What you think?"

  Deb studied the young man who didn't appear to be much older than his late teens, lying naked on the stretcher connected to a plethora of monitors and intravenous lines. Much more remarkable than this array, however, was the circumferential rubbery scar tissue encircling his chest which indicated a full thickness burn. The rest of his body was fairly untouched and it appeared as if his shirt had caught fire, probably from his crack pipe.

  "I think the burn scar is constricting his chest movement and preventing efficient ventilation. If we can't expand his chest, we can't fully aerate his lungs and it doesn't matter what we pump into him, he's not going to breathe well," Deb summarized.

  Sax nodded in evident satisfaction. "Agreed. Your recommendation?"

  "He needs scar release-escharotomies-right now."

  "Here or upstairs in the OR?" Sax queried, leaning back against the counter, arms folded over her chest, her tone conversational, as if she were discussing the latest sports scores. Her eyes, however, belied her casual demeanor. They were fixed on Deb's face so intently that Jude thought perhaps Sax could actually see what Deb was thinking.

  She's marvelous, Jude thought. She's always watching Deb-evaluating her, testing her, guiding her-and all the while she's allowing her to grow and become independent.

  "Breathe, Jude," Melissa murmured in Jude's ear. "It's going to be a very long day and you're going to need all your strength. Maybe you should just let me film and you try not to look at her. It seems to do something serious to your system-like shut it down."

  "Shut up, Mel, or I'll be forced to hurt you," Jude whispered back, but she couldn't hide her sheepish grin. God, she loved to look at her and couldn't imagine that ever changing.

  Deb Stein shrugged her shoulders and came to a decision. "I think we can do it right here. The burn scar is insensate so he won't feel it, plus he's got narcotics onboard even if there is some discomfort. We need to stabilize his cardiopulmonary status before we do anything else, so we might as well get to it."

  "Go ahead," Sax suggested, moving out of the way so that Deb could open the instrument packs and prepare the area where she would make the incisions. "It's your show."

  Stepping back next to Jude, Sax asked quietly, "You okay?"

  "Yes," Jude replied. "Is he going to live?"

  "Probably. He's young; we got him early. We'll know better in a few days." Craning her neck to see over Deb's shoulder, she instructed, "Put that lateral incision a little more anterior, Stein. And don't go too deep or he'll bleed all over the place."

  Jude watched Deb work, aware that Sax, despite her casual demeanor, was watching her intently as well.

  "You free for lunch?" Sax asked after a moment, her gaze following the sweep of the scalpel blade in Deb's hand.

  "Yes."

  "I'll treat you to the street carts out front."

  "Wonderful," Jude responded, catching Sax's grin and thinking she'd never had such a perfect invitation.

  *****

  Chapter Thirty

  Sept. 8 - 5:48 AM

  Jude came awake with a jolt, startled from sleep by the sound of shouts and running in the hall outside the on-call room. Beside her, Melissa was sitting up reaching for her jeans.

  "What's going on?" Mel asked, fumbling into her clothes.

  "I don't know," Jude replied as she jumped from bed and stepped into her chinos. As she was pulling on her boots, there was a sharp knock on the door and Sax's voice calling, "Jude?"

  Jude crossed the room to the door in a matter of seconds, pulling it open as Melissa crowded behind her. The two women stepped out, joining Sax, as Jude questioned anxiously, "What is it? What's happened?"

  "A tanker overturned in the tunnel. It's blocking the exit on this side and there's a huge chain reaction pileup behind it underground. Mass casualties--that's all I know at the moment. I'm taking the first response team out now. Deb is organizing the second team. I'll let you know as soon as I get--"

  "Mel, get the portable videocameras and all the tape you can carry," Jude interrupted urgently as she kept pace with the trauma surgeon, who was already hurrying down the hall. Interpreting Sax's quick frown to mean that she was concerned about delays, she added, "Don't worry, we won't hold you up. We'll get our gear, join Deb's team, and meet you there. "

  "Jude," Sax began, too many things on her mind to be circumspect, "it's going to be a mess out there. We'll be first on the scene because we're practically right on top of it. I'm not even certain yet that the tunnel is structurally secure."

  She didn't need to elaborate that if the stretch of highway carved out of bedrock under the Hudson River collapsed, the casualty count would soar.

  "Let's go find out," Jude answered impatiently, electrified by the opportunity to be one of the first photojournalists on the scene. These were the moments of human tragedy and human greatness. These were the moments she lived to immortalize.

  No. Sax wanted to tell her to stay behind; she wanted to tell her it would be chaos and insanity out there; she wanted to tell her that she couldn't work worrying about her. She didn't say anything, though her stomach clenched with apprehension, because she knew if the situation were reversed, nothing would keep her from doing what she had to do. Instead she grabbed Jude's hand and squeezed it briefly. "Fine, but I probably won't see much of you. Just... be careful...okay?"

  "Okay," Jude responded instantly, unconcerned about her own welfare. Suddenly, however, she realized that as the leader of the first response team, Sax could be in danger. The initial moments in situations like this were always so unpredictable. The tanker could blow, the tunnel could flood, vehicles could explode. God. Tugging on Sax's arm, she halted her in midstride and pulled her around un
til they faced each other. "Don't be a hero, understand? I couldn't…"

  Sax smiled, lifting a hand to rest her fingertips on Jude's cheek. Unmindful of hospital personnel moving around them in the hallway, she closed the distance between them until their bodies nearly touched. Softy, her eyes holding Jude's, she assured her, "I wouldn't think of it. Just you be careful, too."

  Before Jude could respond, Sax kissed her swiftly and then was gone.

  ******

  "Look at this mess," Deb exclaimed as the three of them stood on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, surveying a scene out of a disaster movie. "We'll get there faster on foot. Let's go."

  Street traffic was completely gridlocked. People were standing outside their cars, trying to see what the hold-up was, shouting at one another. Scores of police were hastily erecting barricades and trying to divert traffic. Emergency vehicles, sirens blaring, were forced at some points to detour onto the sidewalks, making painfully slow progress in the crush of stalled or immobilized trucks and cars. The noise level made conversation almost impossible.

  "What about the rest of the team?" Jude questioned, indicating the ambulance edging out into traffic from the emergency entrance of the hospital.

  "They'll catch up," Deb pointed out, already moving. Mel, with her camera braced on her shoulder, was beside the young surgeon, tape rolling. Jude fell into step with them, the decision clearly made.

  It wasn't hard to tell where they needed to go. The tunnel was only a few blocks away, and even if they hadn't known that, they could have navigated by the reflection of flashing emergency lights against the undersurface of the gray dawn clouds or followed the sound of screaming sirens. As she ran, the second camera tucked under her arm, Jude wondered if Sax and her team were already at the crash site.

  "How many cars are trapped?" she asked, hastily clipping her network badge to her multipocketed khaki vest.

  "At least twenty," Deb informed her. She was in scrubs, a stethoscope dangling precariously from her neck and a handful of rubber tourniquets streaming from her pockets. "According to the first radio report there are as many as a hundred injured, but you know how inaccurate that can be."

  Deb stopped short and Jude nearly collided with her. Mel drew alongside, breathing hard from the added effort of carrying the extra gear. She didn't look tired though; with her blond hair poking out from under her baseball cap and her baby blue eyes sparkling with excitement, she looked exhilarated.

  "Holy cripes," Melissa gasped.

  They all stared, speechless, for a moment their mission forgotten. The four lanes leading from the mouth of the tunnel into Manhattan were completely blocked with dozens of emergency medical and police vehicles, many parked haphazardly with their light bars flashing. A huge fire engine nearly blocked the mouth of the tunnel--men clambered over it, unraveling thick hoses, disappearing with them into the billows of black smoke that poured out, engulfing them in acrid air and ash. It was impossible to see very far inside the tunnel through the dense clouds, but there were already a dozen or more injured men and women who had found their way out staggering about in the midst of the pandemonium.

  Jude stood rooted to the spot, staring into the face of her nightmare. She knew exactly what it was like inside that tunnel-she knew the sounds, and the sights, and the smell. Twisted metal, broken shards of glass; the pungent odor of electrical fire and burning rubber; confused shouts; screaming. She knew the pain and the fear and the helplessness, too. She wanted to run-from the memories, from the reality, from the terror that surged into her chest with all the force it had on that morning five years before.

  "I need to set up a command post and a triage center," Deb shouted, suddenly finding her voice and mercifully jolting Jude back to the present. Pointing to several emergency medical vehicles closest to the tunnel ramp, she added, "That looks like the best place."

  "What about Sax?" Jude asked, running next to Deb again, trying to avoid colliding with firemen and police officers and emergency paramedics, all of whom seemed to be running as well. "Where is she?"

  She didn't go in there. Of course she didn't. Why would she do that? No one would do that. That would be insane.

  "Don't know. She probably went inside to assess the number of injured. There must be people trapped in vehicles in there, too."

  A new rush of fear seized Jude by the throat, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. Sax is not inside that tunnel in the midst of smoke and fire and God knows what else. She said she would be careful. She said she wouldn't be a hero. She promised. Glancing frantically about, Jude searched for Sax's distinctive figure in the churning mass of people. Now that they were closer, she could see paramedics beginning to emerge from the tunnel carrying stretchers with injured, leading those who could walk, and shouting for assistance.

  In a voice that sounded startlingly calm to her own ears, she directed, "Mel, I'm going inside. You stay with Deb."

  "No way," Melissa objected, looking up from her viewfinder-she'd begun filming in earnest as soon as they'd gotten close. "This story is in there, and I'm going, too."

  "We don't have time to argue about this," Jude said sharply, her temper flaring with a mixture of worry about Sax's whereabouts and her own terror of walking into that dark hole in the ground. "We need footage of Deb for the documentary."

  "We'll have plenty of time to get that later. Right now we need to be where the action is, and you know damn well that's inside that tunnel," Mel insisted. " You stay with Deb and let me go in."

  She wanted to agree. Everything she feared was in there. And so was everything she cared about. If it had just been the story, she might have given in to the nausea that clawed at her throat and turned her blood to ice, and sent Melissa in alone. Maybe. But Sax was in there, too. She couldn't stand outside and wait. She needed to go in there, for herself and everything that mattered.

  "We'll go together," Jude said firmly. She grabbed the sleeve of Mel's jeans jacket. "Come on, before they get organized and try to keep the press out."

  "Stay close, will you," Melissa shouted as they ran. "I don't want to lose you in there."

  "Don't worry," Jude assured her. "I'll be right on your back--just like always."

  "Today I won't mind," Melissa said fervently, making a hard right around a barricade the police were setting up to prevent unauthorized people from going into the tunnel.

  Melissa and Jude ignored the shouts calling them back, and in a moment they were obscured from sight by the dense curtain of roiling smoke and plumes of fire.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The main overhead lights were out, the rescue teams had not yet rigged the portable arc lights, and the only illumination came from the safety lights at ground level which were working sporadically at best --entire sections were nonfunctional, casting the underground highway in patches of murky yellow and foreboding shadow. Fortunately, the air was still breathable despite the noxious smoke pouring from around the overturned truck. Firemen were already hosing it down with flame retardant foam as Jude and Mel skirted the throng of workers at the entrance.

  "Follow these guys," Jude shouted above the din, pointing to emergency medical personnel identifiable by their tackle boxes of medical equipment who were inching their way past the rubble at the mouth of the tunnel to reach the stranded motorists deeper inside.

  Climbing over bits of concrete and debris from the wreckage, the two of them emerged on the other side of the tanker and got their first view of the real scope of the disaster. Cars were piled up as far as they could see, several overturned and burning, and the first rescue workers on the scene were rushing from vehicle to vehicle trying to assess the status of the occupants. Victims were sitting or lying beside many of the wrecks, some being attended to by paramedics while others waited, confused and disoriented, for someone to lead them out. Here and there EMTs were starting IVs and intubating the more seriously injured.

  "Do you see Sax?" Jude asked urgently. The faces of many of the rescue workers were
already smudged with smoke and grime and in the murky light that flickered and flared as electrical circuits burnt out and small fires began, everyone had the eerie appearance of figures in a waking dream. Until she was right up next to someone, she couldn't even be certain if they were male or female. Most of the emergency workers were garbed in some form of hospital apparel and only the firemen in their heavy asbestos coats were easily recognizable. "Do you see anyone from St. Michael's?"

  "No," Mel replied grimly, trying not to think about the extent of the carnage. "Let's just keep going and see how far this goes. They must be somewhere close by. Eventually we've got to run into them."

  "Look at the ground," Jude remarked hollowly, trying not to let her fear show. There was six inches of water in the tunnel. There were tons of rock and water above their heads, and she wondered how long the damaged infrastructure could sustain the tremendous pressure without flooding or collapsing completely. She glanced ahead and could see only darkness beyond the first thirty feet. Every instinct in her body screamed for her to leave. She craved daylight and fresh air with an exigency that bordered on frantic. She bit her lip, desperately trying to stave off the wave of dizziness and surge of nausea that threatened to bring her to her knees. She tasted her own blood.

  "What do you think?" Mel asked, staring at the water slowly eddying around her boots. "Turn back or look for them?"

  "Keep going."

  Jude reached into one of the cargo pockets of her vest and found her halogen flashlight, switching it on to supplement the progressively poorer light. As they passed the wreckage of the deadly early morning commute, she spied a few motionless forms inside crushed vehicles, lying in the awkward poses that could only be obtained in death. Fortunately, most of the victims she saw appeared to be alive, although many were not ambulatory. The fact that the rush-hour congestion had already begun by the time that the accident occurred meant that traffic had been moving fairly slowly. She prayed that would mean fewer mortalities despite the large number of apparent injured.