“We get outside to the triage tents they’ve set up. See what we can do.” He looked at her for a moment. “If there’s anyone you need to call, someone said the towers have been working again. You might try now before the surge hits.”
“Just Annie, Nikkie Jean, and Fin. I need to find them.” And Jake. Fear for her uncle threatened to choke her. Jake was out there somewhere—and there was no way she’d be able to contact him right now.
Someone caught her as she hurried through the rain toward the triage tent. “Get help! The parking garage!” Cherise. Her supervisor. She hadn’t even been on the schedule for tonight.
“Cheri, why are you here? Are you hurt?”
“My daughter told me the hospital and the TSP took direct hits. I’m here to help.”
Dr. Jacobson wrapped a hand around Cherise’s arm and turned her. “What about the parking garage?”
“Part of it is collapsing. There are people in the elevator. Hurry.”
Dr. Jacobson took off at a run. Toward the back garage. Izzie didn’t stop to think—she just followed.
3
Allen knew the parking garage well. He was aware of people behind him, but he didn’t stop to look at who. The parking garage was behind the main building. The elevator was only a two-story service elevator. Small, older, well-maintained, but not exactly a damned storm shelter.
No one should have been in there this time of night.
Vincent and Rafe came out through the rear entrance of the hospital. Allen waved them over. “We’ve got people trapped in the elevator!”
Rafe swore. Vincent called for maintenance and crowbars. Something crashed at the back of the parking lot.
Allen jerked around as the people who’d followed him caught up.
A slab of concrete bigger than his car crashed down—on the very bench where his best friend Logan had died.
That bench had always been a stab to his gut ever since.
The bench was destroyed in an instant. He turned away.
“We have people in the elevator. We need to get them out.”
“There’s no power back here now,” Vincent said. He pounded on the elevator and yelled.
A voice yelled back. The metal door distorted it too much for him to know who it was.
Maintenance arrived—four strong men, all carrying crowbars and various tools. They’d have to act fast; the elevator door was buckling from the weight of the garage above them. Allen looked at the trio of women behind him. Cherise, Jillian, and Izzie—they had no damned business being there right now.
Every last one of them was in danger every minute they stayed out here. He took matters into his own hands. If Rafe wasn’t going to do something about them being out there—he was shocked he hadn’t already, with Jillian right there in harm’s way—then Allen damned well would. “You three! Triage tent. You don’t need to be here. If this thing comes down...” He didn’t think it would, but he wasn’t going to be stupid. He looked at Vincent. “Has the garage been searched?”
“My people are finishing now. No one is out here. Except for whoever is in there now.” Vincent turned toward the women. “Dr. Jacobson’s right. Get yourselves out of here, just to be on the safe side. No one but essential personnel should be out here.”
They protested, but they went.
Allen stayed.
If there was more than one person injured in that elevator, Rafe would need assistance.
He waited until the trio of nurses was gone before turning toward Rafe. The maintenance crew were setting up their crowbars. The obvious plan was to pry the elevator doors apart. “Did we lose anyone?”
Rafe shook his head. “Not yet. We have some with critical injuries. Some of our pediatrics and PICU nurses have lacerations and contusions. A few broken bones. Some of their patients were too near the windows, and they covered them as best they could, even bodily. But we got lucky. It could have been so much worse.“
“Walk-ins?“
“They’re coming in by the dozens.“ Rafe’s words were grim. Allen understood. Things were going to get worse before they got better. “We’re diverting who we can and triaging the rest. The night isn’t over. This storm is tracking into Oklahoma now. Someone said the radio says there may be more to come.“
Allen didn’t know if the hospital could withstand another hit. He’d done Rafe’s job before; he didn’t envy the man now at all. “How much damage so far?“
“Hospital. City hall. Four public schools. Half the downtown district. A third of Boethe Street and public housing. Hundreds of private residences, churches, and businesses.”
Anything else Rafe was going to say was put on hold when the maintenance supervisor called for their help. The men were going to pry open the doors and hold them as long as possible. Someone would have to pull the occupants out as fast as they possibly could.
“Now!” Vincent ordered, pushing against one of the six crowbars with his whole body. The metal shrieked as it was shoved open.
Rafe and Allen reached in. A warm body was lifted straight into Allen’s arms. He pulled back. Rafe grabbed the bottom half, and they lifted.
Finley Coulter weighed next to nothing—being made of cotton candy and fairy dust—it took mere seconds to pull her out. Allen held her close to his chest until he could put her back on her feet. People had started to buzz Fin’s name around as one possible missing.
He was damned glad to find her now. She was one they’d all been worrying about. “Glad to see you, kid. You ok?”
She nodded. “Bumps and bruises. Virat—”
Allen turned back. His colleague Virat Patel, assistant chief of trauma, was being pulled out of the elevator by Rafe and Vincent.
He had a contusion over his brow. But he was in one piece.
“Is Nikkie Jean in there with you?“ Allen asked.
Virat shook his head. Rafe looked sharply at Allen. “Nikkie Jean’s missing?”
“I don’t know. She clocked out a few minutes before the sirens sounded.“ He’d run over to his office across the street, passing Nikkie Jean on her way out. He’d made it back in time to grab Izzie as the storm hit.
He’d been worried about Nikkie Jean since.
She could be out there anywhere.
“Ok, everyone out of the garage. Vincent, keep it blocked off. We don’t need anyone anywhere near this structure,” Rafe said. “We’re sure everyone’s out?“
Vincent already had his radio out. “I’m pulling the last of my people out now. They found a security guard unconscious behind a car. Hard hit to the head from debris. They’re getting him out and blocking all the entrances now. Said they’ve searched everywhere.“
Rafe looked at Allen. “You go back to triage. Everyone reports to you. Virat, Fin? The two of you capable of running teams?“
“Of course,” Fin said. Virat just nodded, big and silent right behind her.
“I want each of you to get a team together. We have called in our backups now. We’re getting a rush of walk-ins from downtown in less than four minutes.“ He was grim; nightmares were written on his face.
Allen knew it was only the beginning. The ones around him were strong in crises—people he could count on. They’d get through this. No matter what. “Let’s get ahead of this.“
Dr. Jacobson joined her after they’d freed Fin. Izzie hugged her friend quickly, then got back to work. She, Dr. Jacobson, and Jillian teamed up. Just as an ambulance jerked to a stop in front of their tent.
Izzie was ready when the paramedic threw open the flaps.
Drew Russell was a nice guy she’d gone out with on two dates before they’d decided they were too good of friends for anything more right now. Drew had pulled back after that—with a promise they might try again someday if the time was ever right. He had a lot to deal with involving his younger sisters and his mother, who were still struggling after the death of his father.
“Impalement injury to the right shoulder.” He yelled out the stats, then looked at Izzie.
“Izzie, babe, it’s our Annie!”
Izzie met the gurney in transit.
There she was. Izzie’s closest friend in the world. The one person who had been there for everything bad that had ever happened to Izzie.
Annie’s blue eyes were closed. She was so still. Pale. A metal bar stuck out of her friend’s shoulder. Izzie could barely look away from it. “Annie, Annie, open your eyes right now.”
Annie’s eyes fluttered once but didn’t open.
A tall man hopped out of the ambulance next. Cherise stopped him. Izzie barely looked at him.
Dr. Jacobson shouldered Izzie aside. She almost lost her composure when she looked into his storm-gray eyes. “Izzie, can you work this, or do you need to move to the next tent? Decide now. Five seconds. We don’t have time to hesitate. We have six more ambulances pulling in within seconds.”
4
Allen knew what he was asking of her. These two were peas in a little pod, constantly together, from what he recalled. He’d noticed that before. The nurse Annie resembled his sister superficially from a distance.
Izzie, Annie, Fin, and Nikkie Jean were almost always together, even across shifts. Everyone knew that.
They still hadn’t found Nikkie Jean yet. He tried not to let the fear for her—probably his closest friend left in the world—stop him from doing what had to be done now.
Izzie pulled herself together right before his eyes. “Let’s do this. She’s O-positive and allergic to penicillin and naproxen.”
Allen looked at the paramedic. “Get her in the tent. We’ll get her stable and moved inside.“
Drew nodded. He and his partner wheeled Annie into a damned tent in the parking lot under borrowed flood lights.
Because it was the best they had to offer.
Damn it, Annie deserved better than this.
Allen scrubbed up using the antiseptic provided. Someone had brought packages of sterile gowns to each tent, thank the heavens. “Let’s get moving.“
Cherise held out a gown to him, ready as always.
He let her dress him quickly. By the time he was finished, Izzie had everything prepped. He checked her work—being a close friend of the patient could cause her to make a mistake. It never hurt to double-check.
She hadn’t made a mistake.
Extremely cool under pressure. Far stronger emotionally than she looked.
“Her pulse is weakening,“ Cherise warned.
“We need to figure out what kind of damage she’s sustained.“ Allen knew what Annie faced. “We won’t know until we get it out.“
They worked efficiently. Jillian joined them to assist. He was used to working with the redheaded nurse. Between them and Cherise, they were able to ensure Annie was stable. Stable enough to move her into the building and into his normal surgical department.
Eventually.
She’d have to wait her turn in line for the orderlies to relocate her.
When they were finished, he set the stitches in her pale skin. After it was finally over, he covered her himself to keep her warm.
Annie looked far younger than she was and so pale. She reminded him so much of his younger sister sometimes. Same color hair and similar eyes. Same shy, vulnerable manner.
Defenseless.
Hell, they were all defenseless against Mother Nature. He had no idea where his little sister was right now. He hadn’t been able to get ahold of Shelby yet.
Shelby and Nikkie Jean—the two women he cared about most in the world.
She was breathing steadily, and Allen was confident Annie would be fine.
It was time to move on to the next patient.
He took another look at Annie, as Izzie brushed her hair off her forehead and pressed her own head to Annie’s and whispered something he didn’t catch.
He’d never forget how they looked right there in that moment.
He stepped out of the trauma room and headed toward the exit, passing the mayor on his way. Turner looked like total shit right now.
The governor was there, too.
Allen didn’t care.
He just needed to get outside, breathe again.
Then move on to the next patient.
5
Cherise was going to stay in recovery, watching over everyone they had there now. Including Annie.
Izzie wanted to break down, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
The night was not over yet. Annie was going to be fine. Izzie had a new respect for Dr. Jacobson; he’d definitely earned his reputation as one of the best trauma surgeons in the country.
She caught up with him in the parking lot before he made it back to the triage tent. “Dr. Jacobson!”
He turned to look at her. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Not as tall as Rafe, but the chief of medicine was over six and a half feet. Dr. Jacobson was a few inches shorter. Maybe a full foot taller than Izzie’s five four or so. With more lean muscle than Rafe’s linebacker brick-wall build.
Both seemed strong enough to captain this ship through the storm.
They still had a line of patients waiting to get started at treatment.
“We have to keep moving,” Izzie said. “How long can we do this? We’re already at maximum capacity, with a third the number of beds to put people in. Half our supplies are destroyed. It’s still storming. What if we get hit again? Or we lose some of the tents or the people—including us—in them?”
He wrapped a strong hand around her arm and pulled her closer. Quieting her, so that her words didn’t scare anyone nearby.
Too late. Everyone was already scared.
The man was used to being in charge. It was hard to miss that. “We keep going. We don’t let them see. Just keep going.”
Izzie closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. Then coughed. She wheezed. Damn it.
She recognized the signs of impending trouble when they hit her. Izzie still had debris and contaminants in her lungs from the ER caving down around them, and the wind was whipping every possible allergen right toward her—she’d pay for that soon.
Stress didn’t help much, either.
She opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, concern in his gray eyes. He hadn’t missed it. “You ok?”
“Fine. I’m asthmatic. The dust and plaster have irritated my lungs. We need to get back to work.” She turned away. The last thing she needed was him looking at her like that. Not today.
Allen didn’t like it, but she was right. They had to get back to it. He would listen to her lungs the next free moment they got. In the meantime, he kept her as close to him as he could. Nearly dying together had tied them together somehow. If only for tonight.
Or maybe it was the dark eyes. They reminded him of Jess. Jess had had dark eyes like that. Big and deep and so dark a man could lose himself in them.
Izzie wasn’t like Jess, though. She had compassion for others. Kindness she couldn’t fake.
It was evident in the way she held the little boy on her lap while Allen stitched up the child’s arm. When Allen was finished the little boy hugged her. Izzie held him back and said something to him in Spanish. Comforted him and his terrified father.
They couldn’t find the child’s mother. She’d worked near city hall.
From what he’d heard, that area had taken a direct hit. Thousands of people were without shelter tonight. All of the usual places—hospitals, schools, churches, community centers—were all destroyed. Two of the largest churches in the city had been wiped clean off their foundations.
City hall—where Annie had been. Where Nikkie Jean had been going.
All the others that could had opened to the uninjured for shelter.
The mayor—Turner Barratt, a friend of Allen’s from his college days—was about to make a press conference from right in front of the hospital. Turner had been stuck with Annie Gaines in city hall. They both had come damned close to dying.
If they had taken much longer getting Annie out of the rubble, she would most likely have bled to death in the m
ayor’s arms.
The medical buildings across the parking lot from the hospital were relatively unscathed. Someone had opened W4HAV up to the public to use as a Red Cross post. Volunteers were gathering to help locate the missing.
Allen’s own practice was one floor up from the women’s charity.
He and Izzie finished with the patient and moved them along toward the Red Cross post. It was all they could do. He took another moment to try to get another call out to Shelby. She didn’t answer.
He tried again before someone yelled for his attention.
Rafe came into their tent. He tossed a candy bar at Allen. He handed more to Izzie and Jillian, who’d joined them again. He looked at Allen. “Houghton’s opening up the Barratt Hotel. Anyone needing a room for the night, send there. He has four hundred and thirty open for now. Mel has her people keeping a running tally and a list of names. She’s getting her staff organized to help.”
The Barratt Finley Creek boasted over a thousand rooms. It was a weekday. It was in their favor. Allen nodded. “Numbers?”
“We’ve lost Ray, our security guard. Whatever hit him, it was over quickly, at least. One of our nurses in ICU lost his leg. He was caught out in the parking garage, and there was no time to save it. A few severe lacerations amongst support staff, six concussions amongst our nurses, three crushing injuries. No one else. You and Izzie, Fin and Virat, were in the most danger, followed by the PICU unit. Glad to see you in one piece. We got so damned lucky tonight.”
Rafe was a good chief of medicine. Better than Allen would have been. The man was calm and steady, and people looked to him to lead. Rafe did it well.
“So what’s the plan for staffing?” Allen asked.
“Whoever we can get, twelve-hour shifts. County is slammed, as are Barrattville Med Center and Barratt County. Wichita Falls is open for minor injuries, with their own transportation. They’ve had a mass of injuries from straight-line wind damage up there as well.”
“How hard was Barratt County hit?”
We All Sleep Alone Page 2