by Akart, Bobby
“We’ll make him feel important,” added Tommy. He sighed. “When my parents were killed, I found myself looking for a sense of purpose. I really didn’t have anyone to turn to, so I kinda hitched up my big-boy pants and figured it out. I was an adult. This is different. Jesse doesn’t deserve this uncertainty.”
Kristi smiled and pointed toward the sofa. Brooke was peeking over the back of the cushions. “Somebody’s eavesdropping. I can’t wait to find the time to work with her. Tommy, there’s something about her I can’t seem to put my finger on.” She thought for a moment and then peeled off to let Carly know what she planned to do.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d hoisted Brooke onto her hip, and Tommy gathered up Jesse together with their weapons. The group went strolling down the driveway, with the focus of attention on Jesse and his duties on the security detail.
They wound their way down the hill toward the county road that meandered through their property, generally following the contours of the shoreline of the Ohio River. It came to a dead end near the water’s edge before it entered the state forest.
“Hold up,” instructed Jesse. He became suddenly serious and he held his hand up to create a fist. He’d been watching military movies on the A&E network before the grid went down.
Kristi managed a smile and glanced at Tommy, who winked at her. The two thought Jesse’s actions were cute until they noticed the reason he’d asked the group to stop.
Parked at the bottom of the driveway was a Harrison County sheriff’s patrol car. The deputy behind the wheel appeared to be having a conversation with someone in the woods. He caught a glimpse of the trio and quickly rolled up his window before driving away.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” asked Kristi.
“Aunt Kristi, nobody ever drives down this far,” observed Jesse, before adding, “Even before everything happened.”
Tommy took a few steps forward and slowly raised his rifle. “It looked like the deputy was talking to somebody.”
Jesse agreed. “I think you’re right, Tommy. I’ll go check it out.”
Kristi reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “Whoa! Slow down, mister. Your mother will tan both of our hides if I let you do that. I have a better idea.”
“What is it?” asked Jesse.
“Well, whoever the deputy was talking to wasn’t a threat; otherwise he wouldn’t have just left them in the woods. They might’ve been fishin’ or something.”
“We should still check it out,” insisted Jesse.
“We can’t leave your mom and grandma unprotected or unaware of what’s going on. You and I will go back to the house while Tommy takes a look. Um, you’re more experienced at watching over things than Tommy, so that makes you more important at the house.”
Jesse thought for a moment and looked up at Tommy. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s hurry.” He turned and began to jog up the hill toward the house.
Tommy turned to Kristi. “It might be nothing, but I will go take a look. I don’t like the way the deputy took off. It was like he was busted doing something he wasn’t supposed to.”
Kristi took a step toward the road and then nodded. “As I mentioned on the drive home, there’s bad blood between our family and the Clarks. It could be nothing, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Sheriff Randy sent a deputy down to snoop around.”
Tommy walked past her and said, “Nowadays, we take nothing for granted. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Chapter 10
Lutheran Downtown Hospital
Fort Wayne, Indiana
Levi didn’t regret helping the little girl find her parents, but he did have qualms about the loss of time. As he tore through the north wing and down the stairwell, he dispensed with the usual pleasantries of excuse me and pardon me in favor of get the hell out of the way. Despite some pushback, he emerged outside near the loading dock of the hospital. He ran onto the service road and looked up and down the three-story brick building, searching for the generators.
Frustrated, he cursed and then began to run down the narrow asphalt street. He came upon a chain-link gate that was protecting an inset into the building. The gate was slightly ajar.
“Finally!” he shouted, drawing the attention of several people who were walking away from the hospital. They stopped to stare at Levi and then continued on their way. He ran to the gate and swung it open, slamming it against the brick wall with a clatter.
“Hey! Be careful.” A man’s voice issued a warning from within the group of six large generator units within the walls of the hospital. The large, one-hundred-eighty-kilowatt backup generators stood in line, perfectly separated to allow maintenance workers to walk around them. Levi didn’t respond to the man but, rather, wound his way through the units until he could find him.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized. He’d decided to use his orderly scrubs to gain credibility. “The nurses on the surgery floor told me to come see what’s happening. Um, I cut my arm on a piece of metal.”
The man assessed Levi, looking him up and down as he spoke. “You’d better get that checked on, man. It looks gnarly.”
“Yeah, sure. What’s wrong with these things? Why aren’t they working?”
The man shoved a greasy rag into his coveralls and studied Levi. “Where have you been? We ran out of diesel days ago. I was using the opportunity of the power being turned back on to run some simple maintenance checks. But, of course, the bastards cut the power again.”
“Who cut it?” asked Levi, confused as to what the man meant.
“Man, have you been under a rock somewhere or what?”
“Something like that. I was campin’ and missed all the excitement. What happened?”
The man shook his head and chuckled. “You really are clueless. The mayors made a deal with the power company to turn the power back on. That was all well and good until the rest of the great American Midwest learnt of it. Next thing you know, the hospital was flooded with patients.”
“Why did they turn the power off?” asked Levi.
“It was the president, so I’m told,” the maintenance worker responded. “He ordered the power grid shut down everywhere, but I reckon he got mad when South Bend and Fort Wayne got together and made this deal with Indiana-Michigan Power to begin with. I heard the National Guard showed up, arrested our mayor, and ordered the power company to turn it all off again.”
“Without notice?”
“That’s right. On one minute, off the next. Crazy.”
Thanks a lot, assholes, Levi thought to himself.
Levi ran his fingers through his hair and then scratched at his beard, which itched him continuously. He’d begun to wonder if something was growing in there.
“Okay, so what’s the problem with these things?” asked Levi as he rapped his knuckles against the steel housing.
“They ran out of fuel, that’s what. No diesel, no power. The admin folks asked for a refill, but it never showed. They’re as worthless as teats on a boar hog right now.”
Ordinarily, Levi would appreciate the man’s smart-aleck attitude, but today, he was in no mood.
He tried to endear himself to the man in search of a solution. “Listen, they’re freaking out in the adult surgery ward in the east wing. I guess there’s a bigwig, you know, a congressman or somebody in there. The surgeons can’t see to operate. Is there any way to get one of these gennies up and runnin’?”
“A tanker truck of fuel,” the man replied dryly. “If’n it’s a congressman, he’d have more juice to make that happen than either one of us would.”
Levi looked around for answers. “Where are the diesel storage tanks?”
The man pointed toward an enclosure in the middle of the parking lot.
Levi wandered toward the chain-link gate and thought for a moment. “Are they all bone dry?”
“Nah, not necessarily,” the man replied. “They ran themselves down to a certain point, and when the first two units quit, the muckety-mucks told us to shut ’em of
f.”
“So there may be diesel in some of the tanks?”
“Sure. Why?”
“What if we consolidate all of the diesel into one tank? Do you know which one is associated with the east wing?”
The man shrugged. “That’s the easy part.”
He pushed past Levi toward the front of the utility area. He slapped the end of the CAT generator and pointed to the four-inch black letters that read EAST. He continued. “There’s a tank out there labeled just like this one. Whadya thinkin’?”
“I’m gonna siphon all the diesel into one tank. How many gallons do you need to run this unit for an hour?”
“To fill the lines and have sufficient fuel to prime the internal pumps, probably twenty gallons, I’m guessin’.”
Levi’s hopes were raised. “Where can I find a water hose?”
“Inside the utility yard where the tanks are. We use it to wash away spills. But, hey, the water ain’t workin’.”
“I’m gonna siphon it from one tank to the other. Don’t leave. I’ll let you know when I’ve got it all.”
The man shook his head at Levi as he ran up a slight grassy hill and into the parking lot. He shouted after him, “Knock yourself out! I ain’t got nothin’ else to do!”
Levi arrived at the utility pen out of breath and losing blood. However, he didn’t slow down. He found the water hose, used a sharp edge of the fuel tank supports to cut off the ends, and began the fifteen-minute process of siphoning diesel from the five other tanks until everything was consolidated into the one servicing the east wing.
He was tempted to cut the process short to save time, but he didn’t know how much fuel he was transferring. Also, he wanted to make sure he had every drop. Starting the generator was one thing. Keeping it going long enough to provide his father’s surgeons the light they needed was another.
As he raced back to the utility yard, he stumbled in the parking lot twice, ripping open his kneecaps and further injuring his arm. His once white scrubs were now a mix of crimson-red blood and asphalt gray-smudges.
He arrived at the generators, where the maintenance man casually waited. He breathlessly made his request. “Fire up the east wing generator, please.”
Then Levi did something he hadn’t done in a long time.
He prayed.
Chapter 11
Lutheran Downtown Hospital
Fort Wayne, Indiana
Chapman was normally calm and cool under pressure. During his days as a storm chaser, he was known to have nerves of steel, completely unafraid to stare down a twister as it rumbled toward him. He’d do anything to gather the data for the National Weather Service and get the shot for the Weather Channel.
This was different. It wasn’t his life at risk, it was his dad’s. He pushed and shoved his way through the corridors of the surgery wards in search of portable lighting like the one he’d found in the first operating room. He discovered one in a closet and cursed out loud when he noticed the LED bulbs were missing.
For a while, as he searched, he carried the device with him, hoping to pair it with the necessary bulbs. He eventually gave up on that, as he found himself wasting time in search of unlocked supply closets.
He worked his way up one corridor and then back to the center hub of the surgical floor. Each time, he’d find a way to touch base with Isabella to see if there was any change in the status of his father’s surgery.
He’d also look inside the one surgical suite that was actually using one of the portable light fixtures. They were still operating, and Chapman chastised himself for wishing the surgery would end, one way or the other.
Eventually, he moved his search to the third floor into pediatrics and children’s surgery. He became more aggressive out of desperation, resulting in several verbal altercations with hospital staff and family members of the children.
Time was running out. He could sense it. Chapman hadn’t worn a watch on the trip to Fort Wayne. There were no appointments to be kept or TWC segments to shoot. None of the clocks on the wall worked, and he hadn’t thought to check the time when he began his search.
Tick-tock.
His internal clock was screaming at him, so he became desperate to take action. He returned to the main floor, where the emergency room was still in chaos. Unlike the surgical suites where patients were cut open like his father, newly arriving patients were being assessed for treatment.
They can do without light.
Chapman pulled the curtain back separating an examination room from the chaos in the hallway. A young nurse was examining a middle-aged man who had a cut on his forehead. The man was lying on the gurney, apparently unconscious.
He closed his eyes and sighed. Chapman burst into the examination room and looked at the man’s wound. It was already scabbing over. He felt better. The man’s cut was in better shape than the gash in Levi’s arm.
“Excuse me, this is needed in surgery,” Chapman said to the nurse in a calm voice as he bent down and unplugged the light fixture from its battery backup.
“Wait, you can’t do that!”
“Sorry! He’ll live!” With that, Chapman disappeared through the curtain, leaving the nurse with her mouth agape.
Chapman cradled the light fixture like it was a fragile child cuddled in his arms. He was more deliberate as he pushed his way through the crowd to make his way to the stairwell. This was going to save his father’s life, and he didn’t want haste or carelessness to prevent him from getting to the operating room.
He walked sideways up the stairs, politely asking people to move so as not to draw anyone’s ire. For all he knew, there were others looking for the prized portable lighting.
Chapman’s chest was pounding with anxiety and exhilaration as he got closer. He couldn’t help himself as he drew near.
“Isabella! I’ve got it! I—”
“Hurry! Please, Chapman, you must hurry!”
His heart sank. Her voice was so urgent. Am I too late?
All of a sudden, the electricity to the east wing was miraculously restored. The fluorescent lights flickered and hissed at first, but then one by one, they became fully illuminated. The people in the corridor let out a spontaneous cheer and began to share high fives.
Chapman froze for a moment as a wave of emotion came over him. It was gonna be okay. He smiled and set the light fixture aside before thinking better of it. You never know, his brain reminded him, so he grasped it and continued through the crowd.
His face was beaming when he reached Isabella. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he reached out to hug her in celebration. However, she didn’t share his exuberance. Just the opposite. Her face was dour. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Her sniffles said it all.
Chapman let go of the light fixture and pressed his face against the glass window looking into his dad’s surgery suite.
“What? No! The power is on!”
He burst into the room, where he was greeted by panicked voices and a long-steady alarm sounding on his father’s heart monitor.
Chapter 12
Lutheran Downtown Hospital
Fort Wayne, Indiana
Chapman wiped the tears out of his eyes as the surgeons combined chest compressions with artificial ventilation in an effort to bring his father back to life. His father had died just a minute ago, prompting the surgical team to immediately begin cardiopulmonary resuscitation, or CPR.
Squire had flatlined. Technically, he was dead. However, the doctors were making every effort to manually preserve his brain function while they took further measures to restore blood circulation and breathing.
Chapman pressed his face against the glass and raised his arms over his head in despair. He followed the physicians’ every move as they continued to administer CPR. Isabella slowly pushed the door open behind him, but it wasn’t until Levi burst through did Chapman lose his focus on the surgeons.
“No way!” shouted Levi, catching the attention of the head surgical nurse, who shot him an a
ngry look. “I got the lights on. What happened?”
“I dunno,” mumbled Chapman.
Levi paced the floor, staring into the operating room. “Why aren’t they using those paddle things?”
Chapman shrugged and Isabella tried to calm Levi down.
Most family members who are unfamiliar with medical procedures only have what they’ve seen on television or read in a novel to educate themselves. TV shows paint a dramatic scene of a lifesaving moment when doctors bring a patient back from the brink of death using a defibrillator to shock the heart. Everyone knows the scene, not unlike what was unfolding in this operating room.
The monitor issues the warning, “Beep, beep, beep—beeeeeeeeee.” The patient had died and the doctor grabbed the paddles. Everyone raises their arms and the doctor shouts, “Clear!” After the jolt, the body surges off the table and the heart monitor resumes its steady beep, beep, beep.
These shows have taught us that when a person’s heart stops completely, the defibrillator miraculously restarts their heart again. In reality, this is wrong and doesn’t happen. Defibrillators were designed to produce an electrical shock to disrupt certain chaotic and disorganized heart arrhythmias. In cases like Squire’s, it was up to the doctors to use chest compressions to keep blood flowing to vital organs while trying to quickly solve the underlying problem of why the heart had stopped.
“Five milligrams of epinephrine!” instructed one of the surgeons.
“Yes, Doctor.”
While the lead surgeon administered compressions and Dr. Ware rhythmically forced air into Squire’s lungs, the younger surgeon searched for the cause of the blood loss. The nurses applied suction and sponges to clean out his body cavity. The lighting was no longer an issue.
It was all about the blood loss. During the power outage, they’d used an advanced hemostatic to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t completely effective. Now that the power was restored, he was able to use an argon beam coagulator to efficiently seal off any bleeding vessels.
