Crucible Crisis

by Amberley Faith

  "Well, when you put it like that – I guess my blood sugar is spiking about now." Ellie stopped walking. "Maybe I should go home. You know, I don't feel well now that you mention it. I think I'll just head to the car and -"

  "Wait a minute, young lady." Zyla shook a finger at Ellie with a grin. "I know exactly what you're up to. You can't trick a trickster." She pointed the same finger into Ellie's chest and pushed with each word. "The. Dunking. Booth. You don't want to do it!" Zyla gave a cry of glee. "You have been manipulating me all along with your little whirls and jumps."

  Zyla paused and looked Ellie up and down. "You clever fiend. You almost had me. I repeat. Almost." Zyla cackled with delight. "Oh, you're good - too good. I'm going to be keeping an eye on you, my pretty."

  Ellie sighed and smiled, "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying." Ellie grimaced at the lie that came so easily. But it was easier to pretend that she'd been kidding all along than to admit that she was actually afraid – afraid of something she couldn't explain.

  A few minutes later, they reached the dunking booth. Zyla grabbed Ellie's hands and pretended to lock them behind her in a cop-and-robber stance. She escorted Ellie up to Mrs. Sarka and said, "We gotta live one, Annie! Ellie, here, was trying to shirk her civic duty and escape the clutches of the carnival." Zyla looked around to see whose attention she could rally.

  "We better get her up on that there dunkin' chair afore she makes a break for it!" Zyla's southern drawl was exaggerated and cartoon-like. She was playing it up, enjoying her role as crowd-stirrer. A few people came over to see what was going on. Zyla addressed them.

  "That's right, folks. Step on up. Let's watch Stusa's newcomer take one for the home team." More people were gathering, and Zyla didn't hold back. "This little lady was runnin' scared. She thought she could outsmart us all and get away clean and dry. We'd better show her what Stusa's all about." Zyla motioned to the crowd.

  "Where are my pitchers? Blaize, is that you? Get on up here and show Miss Prissy Pants what a good baseball player can do!"

  Zyla leaned over and whispered to Ellie, "Just go ahead and get it over with as soon as possible. After the first dunk, they'll switch you out for someone dry, and you can disappear. Toodles!" Zyla wiggled her fingers and pranced away with an exaggerated wink, wink.

  Ellie mouthed, "I hate you" and tried to glare, but she was already half-smiling at Zyla's ploy. Maybe she'd only have to be here for a few minutes. Then she could sneak out and get home. Hmmm…maybe a glass of wine and a bath while waiting on Julien and the girls.

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Sarka was walking Ellie up the stairs that led to the dunking seat. When they got to the top, Ellie saw a small metal seat hanging over a pool of chest high water. She could see it was attached to a lever with a saucer-sized circle on it. The target was small but hittable. Ellie was feeling better and better.

  Ellie walked over to the chair and climbed into the seat. Mrs. Sarka came over and lowered a lap bar. "What's this?" Ellie asked, feeling an immediate prick of panic. "Why is there a bar to hold me down?"

  Mrs. Sarka replied, "It's to keep you from flyin' outta your seat when the lever drops. As soon as you hit the water, you push it forward and stand up. The water is only four and a half feet deep. You'll barely get the top of your stylish hair wet. Remember, just push forward on the bar and stand up."

  The metal lap bar clanked into place. It was snugger than she would have liked. Ellie stammered, "Let me test it. I just realized I have a deep fear of being held underwater." She was embarrassed to hear that her voice shook.

  "Ha ha," Mrs. Sarka replied, "good one. You shoulda done the pie throw, hon," and walked back to the pitcher's mound, lining up Ellie's first customer. Mrs. Sarka announced, "Now, Blaize – I hear there are a few things you don't like about English class this year. Why don't you show us what you got? I'm sure Miz Paylahtay won't mind a bit. It's all for a good cause. Why don'cha show her what you think of English class? I hear you made your first "F" this semester."

  Ellie realized far too late that Mrs. Sarka's job was to get people irate enough to make them want to throw something at Ellie – or throw something to dunk her, anyway. She groaned. Mrs. Sarka had hit a little too close to home.

  Blaize had gotten his first "F" in Ellie's class. He'd also gotten a paddling from Principal Danvers when Ellie reported him for threatening to hit her in class. He'd been angry at Ellie for not letting him play computer games when he was supposed to be researching Colonial America. Ellie hadn't thought he'd really hit her, but she turned him in any way to set a precedent. Kids couldn't go around threatening to hit teachers without repercussion. She'd been shocked that Stusa still used corporal punishment, but she also thought he'd deserved it. Ellie was sure he would love the opportunity to get some revenge.

  Blaize stepped up to the mound like he was getting ready to pitch for the World Series. He squinted his eyes at Ellie, spat once, then rubbed his shoe in the clay. He stomped twice and reared back – ping!

  He had hit the target on his very first pitch. Before Ellie could take a breath, the cold water covered her. She felt a moment of fear and then remembered Mrs. Sarka's words "just push the bar forward and stand up."

  Her chair yanked to a stop and her feet touched the bottom of the tank. She understood the need for a lap bar. She definitely would have gone flying if the bar hadn't held her in place. It was a herky-jerky contraption. She wondered just how old it was as she pushed against the bar.

  Nothing moved.

  Ellie wiggled the bar and then pushed again.

  Nothing.

  Maybe she was supposed to push up. She tried again. The bar didn't budge.

  Ellie gripped with both feet flat on the floor of the tank and tried to heave the bar upwards. Was there a latch she was supposed to activate? She told herself to stay calm, but all her air was gone. The effort of that last push had sent her remaining breath out in little bubbles.

  Ellie felt a cold sense of dread hit her like a punch to the chest. She couldn't move the bar. She was being held underwater in a tank shallow enough to stand in, and she was going to drown. She could NOT move the bar.

  Ellie couldn't tell if thirty seconds had passed or thirty minutes. She remembered reading somewhere that a human could go three weeks without food, three days without water, and three minutes without air. Well, she hadn't been under for three minutes, then.

  Ellie thought of Julien. What would he think? Would he sue the fair organizers? What about her girls? Who would raise them?

  That thought got Ellie fighting mad. She would raise her daughters; there was no way she would give that job to anyone else in the world. Ellie started to thrash. Maybe if she wiggled hard enough she could twist out from underneath the bar.

  She jerked and pounded her feet on the bottom of the tank, trying to get leverage all while holding her mouth tightly shut, concentrating on not gulping in water. She tried pushing herself upwards while pushing down on the bar. It was no good in her seated position.

  Lungs aching, she changed strategy and tried slipping down underneath the bar. She sucked in her stomach as hard as she could and managed to get all the way down to where the bar touched her ribcage. There was no sucking in ribs.

  She shoved herself down onto the bar. It hurt like the devil, and it wasn't enough. Ellie knew she was running out of time. The need to suck in air was already threatening to overpower her even though her mind knew it would be certain death. Her lungs burned and her chest throbbed from the effort of not inhaling.

  It was now or never, she realized. She thrust herself down onto the metal bar again with as much strength as she could muster. She heard a crack and felt a sharp pain that made her choke out a bit more air that she didn't know she had.

  Her push worked. She slipped down further in her seat, but now she was stuck with the metal bar jabbing into her bra line. Knowing she only had seconds left, Ellie grabbed the bottom of the seat with both hands and pulled with her flagging strength. The buttons popped off
her shirt, and her padded bra ripped upwards, but at long last, Ellie shoved free. The sudden force made her gasp for air as she stood up as fast as possible.

  Her head broke free, barely clearing the water line. The pool had to be deeper than four feet, but right then she didn't care. Her breathing was confused. She had inhaled water and her body was simultaneously trying to breathe in air and expel water. She knew one more blinding moment of panic as she gagged, unable to inhale or exhale, stuck there - drowning even though she was no longer under water.

  Finally, she rammed herself into the side of the pool and knocked her body back into working order. She began coughing and retching at the same time, but blessed oxygen got through in between bouts of gagging. Her breaths came in loud, raking gulps punctuated by coughs that hurt all the way up and down her chest.

  If she could just get her breathing under control. She was going to make it! She kept coughing, retching, and breathing, unable to control her body's reaction to the mix of air, water, and pain, until she felt hands on her shoulders pulling her up out of the tank.

  It was Blaize's friend, Kruzer – a big, beefy football player – who hated English almost as much as Blaize did. He was strong as an ox, though, and lifted Ellie clear out of the tank and set her down on the platform beside him. Ellie was doubled over, still puking and breathing, and all she could hear Kyle say was, "Blaize, you've killed her! You've killed her! She's choking!"

  Ellie couldn't respond. She wanted to tell him that no, she wasn't dead, and that the racking coughs were probably saving her lungs right now, but all she could do was crumple to her knees as her body continued to navigate its way through ridding water from her lungs. She was otherwise helpless to control her body. Tears streamed down her face although no one could see them, drenched as she was.

  Someone rushed over and wrapped her in a towel which made her gasp in pain as her ribs complained. The little gasp brought on hiccups that were infinitely more painful than the gagging and retching had been. Now Ellie was crying for real. Her gagging subsided as several people started talking at once. She only heard snatches.

  "She's bleedin-"

  "Let the paramedics thr-"

  "needs - dried off - warmed up before sho-"

  And then Ellie felt a blessed warmth wrap around her. She hadn't even known she was cold until the warmth hit her. Someone gently wiped her face dry and told her she needed to get out of her wet clothes. She tried to protest but was cut off by a familiar voice.

  "Non!" It was Julien. "Not here, and certainly not by you. I will undress and dry her. Donnez-nous l'espace! You -- hold up this blanket to shield her from onlookers!"

  Julien sounded angry. That was rare. As soon as he reached her, she fell into his arms and cried even harder. He peeled away her wet clothes now that she was hidden from view and wrapped her in another warm blanket. He picked her up and carried her down the stairs, through the crowd to the waiting ambulance.

  "You are okay, ma vie. Shhh. Shhh. Don't talk. You can tell me all about it later. Right now, just breathe."

  Ellie couldn't have told him what happened if she'd wanted to. Her breathing was still interspersed with erratic hiccupping, and the pain in her ribs was starting to take center stage. She motioned to the paramedics and pointed to her ribs. "Ow, hurts."

  The paramedic told Ellie that she would get an x-ray at the hospital, but that for now, she needed to concentrate on inhaling and exhaling so that he could listen to her lungs. After the initial check, he said, "You need medical attention. Near-drowning is serious and there are some complications we need to check against and try to prevent. We are taking you to the hospital. Do you understand? Nod yes if you can understand me."

  Ellie nodded. Why was he talking to her like she was an idiot? The paramedic continued. "Can you tell me your name?" He was talking loudly, as if she were hard of hearing.

  "Ellie Pelletier." She began coughing again.

  "OK, Ellie," the paramedic responded. "I'm Ernie. I'll be monitoring you all the way to the hospital. It is normal to cough, so don't hold back. Your body is working itself out."

  "Hurts," Ellie coughed, pointing to her ribs again. When would he do something about that? The pain was blinding.

  "OK, I understand. We will check your ribs as soon as we arrive. I need to ask you a few questions. You can respond by a simple nod or shake of the head. Do you understand?"

  Ellie nodded.

  "Is your name Ebbie?" He asked.

  Ellie shook her head. What was happening? How did he know about Ebbie? The world was getting blurry, and Ernie's voice sounded as if it were coming from very far away. Ellie blinked – once, twice – then heard more voices coming in and out like a radio with bad reception.

  "Mental confusion - risk of hypoxemia – further testing."

  Then she heard Julien's garbled voice, "permanent damage?"

  Damage? Ellie thought. What damage? Pox? They thought she had the pox? She was drowning. Nothing about chicken pox made sense.

  Her thoughts swirled along with her vision. How could she be drowning if she were in an ambulance? Her thoughts were a black current. Somehow, she was caught up in that muddled, whirling eddy. Was she underwater again? Rippling waves of blackness gathered under and around her, shutting out her vision, her hearing – and much sooner than she would like, they dragged her under.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HOSPITAL HANGOVER

  Something tugged at Ellie, forcing her whole body up from the bottom of a deep, dark lake. A grapple had been inserted right into the middle of her sternum, and it hurt. She was a fish hooked on a line, and the fisherman wouldn't lose his catch. She thrashed and wriggled, trying to get free, but the fisherman reeled her in - the pressing weight of the water smothering her. The journey left her water-logged, tired, aching, and sluggish. A fish out of water.

  "Mrs. Pelletier, ma'am." She heard a male voice off in the distance. "C'mon, open those baby blues. I need to check your pupils." A finger and a thumb pulled her left eyelid open and held it for a second. A bright light flicked off and on, piercing her clouded vision and giving her an instant headache. It was worse than any hangover she'd experienced.

  "I'm going to open the right eye if you won't do it. You will see a bright light." True to his word, fingers opened her right eye, and the light stabbed her again. This time the pain was enough to make her try to open her eyelids on her own. They felt heavy, swollen. She blinked.

  "That's right," the voice continued. "Blink your eyes twice more and then follow my light without turning your head. Follow it with your eyes only." Ellie recognized the voice and the man behind it.

  It was Dr. Patel. She followed his light with her eyes, moving them up, right, left, and down as he led. "OK," he said, clicking off the light and entering some notes on his digital tablet. "I have some questions for you, Mrs. Pelletier." He continued.

  "Dr. Patel, what happened?" Ellie interrupted.

  He chuckled. "Well, it's good to see you recognize me, Mrs. Pelletier. That answers the first question. You know who I am. Now, who are you?" He waited.

  "I'm Ellie Pelletier. I teach your son, Parmesh, at the high school. Why does my entire chest hurt so much? Did I crack a rib?"

  "Oh, more than one, Ellie. I'll tell you about your injuries in a moment. First, I need to know what you remember about the accident that landed you here in Stusa's Medical Center."

  Ellie swallowed. "I was in the dunking booth. Someone dunked me, and I couldn't raise the lap bar. I pushed the bar out, in, down and up – but nothing worked. I was starting to panic. Then, I tried sliding down to wiggle out from under the bar. I got wedged in place…then I shoved as hard as I could, and I felt a crack… everything went black, and I woke up here."

  "Well, Ellie," Dr. Patel continued. "You injured yourself quite severely, but in doing so, you managed to save your life. I hope that knowledge will help you deal with the pain over the next several weeks." He pulled an x-ray up on his iPad and showed it to her. />
  "When you heard that crack, a couple of things happened. You did, indeed, crack two ribs – here and here," he circled the fractures in red with his finger as he spoke, "but the biggest problem is this." He drew a large red circle around a tiny piece at the bottom of her sternum. When he tapped the image, it enlarged.

  "This is your Xiphoid process. It's the third piece of the sternum and sits below the manubrium and the gladiolus. It snapped off during your shoving. If it had pierced your liver, you could have suffered a fatal hemorrhage. Fortunately, we were able to retrieve it during surgery without any damage to your liver or other internal organs."

  "I had surgery?" Ellie asked stunned.

  "Yes, it was an emergency. That is partially why you feel so groggy. I'm surprised you're not more confused." Dr. Patel smiled.

  "Oh, I've been confused alright. I thought I was a hooked fish being reeled in when you called my name. It's exactly what it feels like though, like something has pierced my chest and pulled me up from the depths."

  Dr. Patel chuckled again. "That's a fair depiction of the pain. I'll have to remember that. You have quite an imagination, Ellie. No wonder Parmesh enjoys your class so much."

  He'd be the only one, Ellie thought. She kept her thoughts to herself and asked, "Dr. Patel, how long will I be here?"

  "Overnight. In addition to your post-op checks, we need to keep an eye on your lungs and administer breathing treatments to prevent infection. You should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon barring any complications. Now, I believe you have some visitors awaiting you. We will get you to a room in just a bit. Julien can stay as long as he likes, and I'll allow the girls to come into the recovery area - but only for five minutes. They'll have to wait until you get a room for a longer visit." He motioned to a nurse who buzzed in Ellie's family.

  "Thanks, Dr. Patel." He turned and walked away as the girls came rushing over to her bedside with Julien not far behind.