by Jamie Davis
“What turned Mike against this job?” Dean asked. “Based on what everyone says he was the best Station U paramedic there was. I thought he just moved on to the academy as part of a promotion, but now I have to wonder.”
“Mike was my preceptor when I started, and later my partner,” Brynne said. “There was a point early on where we were getting resistance from the Unusual community about getting treatment from human paramedics and doctors. That changed when I showed up at an accident scene involving James and Rudy. There were injuries, and I handled not only the injuries, but protected their identities and Unusual nature.”
“James decided that he needed to take the initiative to introduce the Unusual community to some of us,” she continued. “I started shadowing him on his rounds as their leader. I helped manage several tough medical issues that had been going untreated. The stories of what I and the other medics at Station U were doing started to spread through the community of Unusuals and we started getting more calls.” Brynne shook her head. “The problem was that James and I became close during that time frame. Mike didn’t like it, in much the same way you didn’t, but even more protective. He refused to let me live my life, and he eventually confronted James about it.”
“That couldn’t have gone well,” Dean speculated. “What happened?”
“It should tell you how far James has come in modern times,” Brynne said. “He listened to Mike’s concerns, and tried to explain to him that everything was fine. When the concerns turned to open threats, I turned to the Elk City leadership and filed a formal complaint of discrimination and bias. From what I’ve heard, Mike didn’t even deny it. But, he’d been on the job too long, and had too many friends in high places, so he didn’t get fired. He was sent to the academy under the pretense that he was burned out from the streets. Unless he does something overt, his job is protected by the union, so unless he screws up again, he’ll retire there. The good news is that he’s an excellent instructor. You certainly turned out okay.”
“Yeah,” Dean thought aloud. “He’s a great instructor. I thought the best of him and respected him.”
“It’s hard when you realize that your heroes are human, Dean,” Brynne said. “I used to respect him, too. I guess in some ways he still has a lot to offer to emergency medical services as an instructor. But he’s also a bigot, and he’s mixed up in this whole thing somehow. As long as he works at the academy and headquarters, he’s got a pipeline of information about what is going on, and he can funnel that info to Zach and others in the Cause. The Chief suspects it, but can’t convince Mike’s other friends at HQ, and City Hall, of that fact. So, he stays, and more importantly, he stays in the loop.”
They just stood in silence for a few moments until the quiet was broken by the police officer’s return from the parking lot.
“All set out there,” Rick said as he came into the squad room. “You guys mind if I put something on the TV? We don’t usually get to watch the tube during the day shift.”
“As long as it’s not ‘The View,’ I don’t care,” Dean joked. He looked at Brynne. “I’ll get started on the shift checks on the gear and the ambulance.” She nodded and went back to her work on the computer. Dean went into the ambulance bay still thinking about how screwed up this whole situation was. All he could do, all he had the power to do, was to keep his head down and do his job. Ashley seemed to think that, at some point, him doing his job was going to be the thing that shifted the situation here in Elk City one way or the other. She had told him that he just needed to keep doing what he was doing, and that when the time came, he’d know the right thing to do. It was a good thing she had such faith in the higher order of things. He only had faith in her, but maybe that was how it was supposed to be. Still he wanted to be out of his probationary period and be a full paramedic.
He started in on the medication checks, looking at expiration dates and counting to make sure they had the right amount. He always thought such redundancy was pointless. He knew Bill and Lynne had done the same thing in the last hour of their shift to make sure everything was stocked up before they left for the day. But, he guessed that being careful and methodical was part of the job, so he kept on going. He was finishing up that job when the first call of the day came in over the ceiling speakers.
“Medical Box 724, Ambulance One-Nine-One, respond for emergency maternity at 1267 Ridge Road,” the dispatcher’s dispassionate voice said over the radio.
Dean zipped up the last bag he was checking and stowed it back in its compartment. He was climbing down from the back of the ambulance and shutting the doors when Brynne came it from the squad room. As usual she headed to driver’s side, and he turned and went around to climb into the passenger side of the cab. He put the ambulance on the street with dispatch via the radio as she pulled out through the parking lot and then activated the lights and switched on the siren. Then they sped off to the call.
Dean was excited. He’d seen a baby delivered during his hospital rotation, but this might be his first chance to deliver a baby himself. It was surprisingly rare for paramedics in most systems. Most mothers made it to the hospital before the baby was ready to come. Now and then, though, they got the opportunity assist in a birth. He shifted in his seat as Brynne drove, running through the important steps he remembered about the process of childbirth in his mind.
———
The location was in the Barrens trailer park, part of the large community on the outskirts of which Freddy had lived in his broken-down trailer. Brynne parked in the gravel lot near their location. The narrow dirt roads between the trailers didn’t allow enough room for the ambulance to navigate safely. They needed to bring everything they might need in one trip, since they didn’t want to walk back to get anything in the middle of an emergency.
Brynne pulled out the stretcher from the back of the ambulance while Dean started gathering bags and equipment and stacking it on top. The had the heart monitor, drug bag, pediatric bag, two maternity kits, and the oxygen and airway bag, plus Brynne grabbed an extra set of sheets and a few towels from the cabinet in the back. When they both had done a mental check of everything, they locked the ambulance doors and started around to the trailers down one row. Brynne knew her way around here pretty well, but they didn’t need to find their way alone. An older woman was waiting by the wooded lane between the mobile homes for them as they approached.
“Good day, Paramedic Brynne,” The woman said with a slight bow, saying the name almost as a title of nobility. “Our midwife is away tending to another birth, and we have need of your services once again.”
“Dean, this is Helena Beche,” Brynne said, introducing the woman. “She and her husband August are the leaders of the Barrens community. Helena, this is paramedic Dean Flynn.”
“Greetings Paramedic Dean,” The woman said, again with a slight bow. “Please come with me and I’ll show you to the girl. I fear her time is near.”
Dean grabbed the rear of the stretcher while Brynne took the head end. They guided it carefully over the uneven ground as they followed Helena down the narrow lane between the trailers. Dean could see occasional faces peering out from behind curtained windows, and sometimes a child peeking from behind a tree, but there was no one but the three of them out and about which was strange considering the midmorning hour.
“Where is everyone?” Dean asked aloud, wondering about the lack of activity.
“Yes, Helena,” Brynne said. “I can’t help but notice that your folk are not out and about their business on a beautiful day like today.”
“They are still very wary after the recent events, Paramedic Brynne,” Helena said. “They are afraid of doing anything to draw attention to themselves after the fire set here by the human attackers. It is bringing back stories the old ones tell of the days of fear and intolerance of many years ago in the Old Country.”
Dean pictured old black and white movies with angry mobs chasing monsters with torches and pitchforks. Clearly there was still a stron
g cultural memory of that persecution. These people had faced it all simply because they were different. The homes in the Barrens were largely inhabited by the Fae or Fairy Folk. They possessed none of the strong defensive survival traits that other Unusuals, like vampires, werewolves, and similar predatory types exhibited. The Fae’s existence relied on their ability to hide and blend into their surroundings.
The trio continued to walk down the gravel pathway between the rows of mobile homes in the trees until they came to one where a man with a worried look on his face stood on a small wooden porch outside the front door. Helena called to him as they approached.
“Erich, I have brought the paramedics including Paramedic Brynne Garvey,” She said gesturing to Brynne and Dean. “You know of her abilities as a healer. She will help your wife with her birth.”
The man bowed deeply, relief showing on his face as they approached and started up the three steps to the porch and the front door of the trailer home. The paint was faded and peeling on the door, and Dean noticed that several of the boards on the porch floor looked like they were rotted halfway through. He and Brynne grabbed a load of gear from the stretcher they left parked outside on the grass, and picked their way carefully up the steps and through the door inside.
There was a woman on a beat up, brown couch, groaning and breathing heavily. She was obviously pregnant, and her belly’s size suggested that she was near full term. A new contraction gripped her as they entered, and she grabbed at the arm of the couch tightly with one hand while the other clutched at her stomach. She let out a howl of pain. Dean checked his watch and noted the time the contraction started. He was supposed to take the lead and he stepped forward, setting his bags down next to the couch and kneeling next to the woman, taking her hand in his. Brynne started taking some of the gear out of the bags behind him.
“Ma’am, I’m Dean Flynn,” He said. “I’m a paramedic. This is my partner Brynne. Can you tell me your name.”
“I’m Nura,” She said through gritted teeth. The contraction must have started to subside, and she relaxed a little.
“Okay, Nura,” Dean said in a soothing tone. “We’re going to help you out. How many weeks pregnant are you?”
“Forty-one,” She said. “I’m very ready to have this child, Paramedic Dean.” Nura managed a weak smile.
“How many times have you been pregnant before this and how many times have you carried the babies to full term?” Dean asked. Brynne was putting a blood pressure cuff on Nura’s free arm and starting to take vital signs.
“This is my fourth time with child,” Nura said. “I have been past forty weeks with each one. All three of my children were born strong and healthy, Paramedic Dean. I wish the same for this one.” She bit off the last word with a groan and released his hand as she clutched at her belly again. Dean checked his watch. It had been just over two minutes since the last contraction. Things were moving fast. Brynne was taking care of the gear and getting vital signs, so Dean continued to focus on the pregnancy and imminent delivery.
“I need to check and see if the baby is coming yet, alright?” He asked. Nura just nodded. The woman was wearing a nightgown, and he lifted it up. She was not wearing any underwear, and as the contraction progressed he looked at her vaginal opening, watching as about a four-centimeter circle of the top of the baby’s head appeared, as the woman’s uterus pressed the baby down into the birth canal.
“She’s crowning,” Dean said to Brynne. “I can see the head. She’s not breached.”
“Good,” Brynne said. She was now attaching the sticky patches for the heart monitor to Nura’s chest and abdomen. “You’ve got this Dean. I’ll have your back. Remember she is Fae, so the biggest thing is to make sure the cord doesn’t get tangled on the baby’s wings.”
He shot her a glance and realized she wasn’t kidding. Dean looked back to his patient. “Nura?” He asked. “Do you feel like you have to push?”
Nura nodded as the contraction faded. Dean looked down and watched as the head disappeared back up into the birth canal a little bit when the contraction passed.
“Okay Nura,” Dean said. “Before the next contraction, Brynne is going to start an IV to give you some fluids if you need it. I think this baby is going to come very quickly. You are almost there.”
Dean quickly put on his gloves and opened the maternity kit they had brought. Mom would be his patient, and when the baby was born, he would hand it off to Brynne while continuing to focus on the mother. He laid out the contents of the kit on the floor next to him using the big plastic wrapper as a drape to keep the contents off the floor. There was a soft, rubber bulb syringe for suctioning the baby’s airway, a pair of umbilical cord clamps, a pair of sterile scissors for cutting the cord, and a large absorbent pad with a plastic backing that he unfolded and slid the edge up under Nura’s buttocks. This would help catch some of the fluid and secretions during birth. There was also a paper gown for him which he slipped his arms through and pulled up to his shoulders. It closed in the back, but he didn’t bother to try and tie it behind him, just snugging it up over his shoulders. He also donned a paper face mask with a clear plastic eye shield jutting up from it. It would do the job of covering his face and eyes during the birth.
“Nura, with the next contraction I want you to bear down and push with it, okay?” Dean said. His patient nodded. She immediately let out a groan, signaling the coming of the next contraction. Dean knelt between the woman’s outstretched legs and watched as the top of the baby’s head appeared again. “I see the head, Nura, keep pushing,” He encouraged.
The baby’s head suddenly popped through the expanding vaginal opening, and Dean grabbed the bulb syringe from the packaging on the floor next to him. As Nura relaxed when the contraction eased, Dean used the syringe to suction out the baby’s mouth several times, then doing the same with each nostril. The baby’s skin was still pale and bluish and showed areas covered with the white pasty vernix that coated and protected newborns’ skin in the womb. He looked at Nura.
“Nura,” He said. “The head is out so the next push should finish the birth.” She nodded and groaned as the next contraction came along quickly. She hunched forward around her abdomen and began to push again. Dean tilted the baby’s head downward gently, working with the mother to ease the top shoulder out for delivery. It popped free as did the lower shoulder when he eased the head upward. Then the baby stopped, amniotic fluid leaking out around the baby’s form. This was odd, he thought, quickly assessing the situation. His experience and education told him that once the shoulders were through the birth canal, the rest of the baby just sort of slid out. Something seemed to be holding things up.
“Remember the wings,” Brynne said quietly, encouraging him to think it through.
Dean looked at the baby as it was wedged one shoulder up and one down in the vaginal opening. He gently manipulated the head and upper body forward to his right to look at the baby’s back. As he did so, the tops of a pair of wings appeared. They looked paneled like a butterfly’s wings might when folded and wet. There, pulsing across the top of the wings, where they attached between the shoulder blades, was the umbilical cord. He hooked a finger under the cord and eased it over the top of the wing tips and the baby slid free into his grasp followed by a gush of the remaining amniotic fluid. He used a towel that Brynne handed him to dry off the baby, wrap it and hand the newborn baby girl off to his partner now kneeling next to him. The baby started to cry almost instantly, which brought a smile to his face. The cord still extended up into the mother, remaining attached to the placenta.
He looked up at Nura and said, “It’s a girl, Nura. Everything looks good.”
The mother sagged back into the couch cushions, exhausted from the effort of birth. Dean looked over at Brynne, who was wiping the complaining newborn and putting the tiny diaper that she fetched from the pediatric bag on the baby. Dean picked up the two plastic umbilical cord clamps and attached them about five centimeters from the baby with abou
t two centimeters between them. He looked around for the father who was standing just behind him. He picked up the scissors.
“Dad?” He asked. “Would you like to cut the cord?”
He nodded and leaned forward over Dean’s shoulder, taking the scissors, and with a few sawing cuts, severed the tough cord connecting the mother to baby. He handed the scissors back to the paramedic as he stood up. He had a rather pleased grin on his face. Brynne had finished wiping and drying the baby and now that the cord was cut, handed her up to her mother who had pulled down her nightgown off her shoulders to nurse her newborn baby girl. Dean knew the skin to skin contact and early feeding solidified the bond between mother and baby, plus the early breast milk was rich with immune system boosting antibodies and nutrients from mom.
“Good job, Dean,” Brynne said, clapping him on the back. “You just delivered your first baby!”
Nura looked at him, gratitude shining from her eyes. “Thank you, Paramedic Dean,” She said. “With your permission, I would like to name her after you.”
“You want to call her Dean?” He said in surprise.
Nura chuckled quietly. “No, Dean is a boy’s name. We shall call her Flynn. That is also your name, is it not?” She asked pointing to his nameplate pinned on his uniform shirt.
“I would be honored,” Dean said, taken aback by the gesture.
“Flynn it is,” The father announced. “Come, we must celebrate!” He crossed the small living room into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. He took out an earthenware jug followed by four pewter mugs. He poured some of the amber liquid from the jug into each of the mugs and brought them over, two in each hand. He offered one to Helena, one to Dean, and one to Brynne, keeping the last for himself.