by KJ Kalis
Bill walked over to the trashcan and dropped to the wrappers in, “That’s good. The last thing you need to do is take a medical leave on top of everything else. Gotta try to keep it together.” The way the words came out of Bill’s mouth, they weren’t any more exciting than if Bill told Randy he wanted milk on his cereal. Bill was like that. Never got too excited. That’s one of the things that made Bill a great firefighter and paramedic. He never let his emotions get out ahead of him. Randy wished he had the same composure.
Randy stared down at his boots for a second and then looked at Bill, who’d sat back down calmly on the cot next to him. In a hushed voice, Randy said, “I just don’t know what to do next, Bill. I mean, I’m the man. I should be able to protect my family and I didn’t. And now Keira,” he paused, swallowing. “She’s a mess. Won’t eat. Can’t sleep. Even the anxiety medication the doctor prescribed for her isn’t working. She sits for a few minutes staring at a book or TV program and then gets up and walks to Lexi's room and then comes back. She repeats the same cycle all day long. She’s not doing anything and yet it’s exhausting to watch her.”
“So, maybe it’s a good thing she sent you to work? Maybe taking a break from everything at home will clear your head. Get your mind off of what’s going on.”
Randy nodded, still looking down. Before he could say anything, he heard the springs from the cot next to him squeak a little, the warmth of Bill’s hand on his shoulder as Bill stood up. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Just let me know.”
Randy stood up too, knowing that it was time for them to go to the morning meeting before their shift started. Randy felt a little twitch in his stomach as he followed Bill out of the bunk room. Following him down the hallway, the tightness in Randy’s stomach increased. In the common room, three other guys were sitting on the couches and chairs, Chief Bartlett standing up against the wall, waiting. He gave Bill and Randy a little nod as they came in. Randy chose a chair towards the back of the room, not his usual seat. He didn’t make eye contact. Randy felt the other firefighter’s eyes boring into him. He knew they wanted to ask him what was going on and how he was doing, but it was too much. Thankfully, the chief cleared his throat before anyone could look back at Randy and say anything, “Good morning. Thanks for coming in on this wet day. As you can tell, we’ve got quite the storm coming overhead. Based on the meteorological information I have, the storm will continue to pound us for almost the next twenty-four hours, just in time for you all to get off your shift.” The chief ruffled through some papers on the clipboard he held in his hands. “You all have your regular assignments, but I think what you can expect over this shift would be some people with water intrusion into their homes or on their property that need a hand getting out. There may be some medical calls, but that’s nothing new, just a little bit more challenging with a tropical storm hollering overhead. At some point, it wouldn’t surprise me if we got a call from the township asking for us to help with tree removal if they get swamped with blocked roads. That said, make sure you’ve got all your waterproof gear handy and ready to go. It’s going to be a wet shift, guys, but we’ll get through it, just like we always do. Please keep me posted if your families need anything.”
Randy glanced up at the chief, knowing the last comment was just for him. Randy gave a little nod and then leaned back in the chair as most of the guys got up and walked away. He knew what they were doing. Bill would walk behind him into the kitchen and start a fresh pot of coffee. A couple of the other guys would go out into the garage and fuss with the tools to make sure they were ready to go for the shift. Normally, Randy would help with the trucks or check the medical supplies on the ambulance, but not today. Today, he felt like sitting and staring.
As the meeting thinned out, Randy realized Chief Bartlett was still standing against the wall, watching him. A second later, he walked over, “How are you doing Randy?”
“I’m all right, Chief. How are you doing today?”
“Doing fine. Anything we can do for you or Keira?”
Randy shook his head and looked down again, feeling a surge of emotion, “I wish there was, Chief. I just gotta get on with doing my job until the FBI tells me otherwise, I guess.”
Chief Bartlett furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, if you need anything at all, or you need to go home, don’t give it a second thought. Just let me know, okay?”
Randy nodded and then put both hands on his knees, pushing himself up into standing, “Thanks. I think I’m gonna go out and check supplies in the ambulance.”
“Sounds good,” Chief Bartlett nodded.
Randy didn’t feel like doing anything, but sorting through the ambulance sounded better than dealing with question after question about Lexi and Keira. Hopefully, Bill would share the information with the rest of the guys so Randy didn’t have to keep repeating himself. Walking to the ambulance, he looked down, avoiding eye contact.
Randy spent the morning doing chores around the fire station. Just as soon as he got the ambulance restocked, there was a medical call, a couple of the other guys heading out to take it. While they were gone, Randy decided to mop the station floor. It wasn’t a job he normally loved to do, but anything that would keep his mind occupied seemed to push the anger and fear back down inside of him where he could at least function. Running the rope mop over the painted red floor took about an hour, just in time for the wet ambulance to pull back in from the storm, the lights blinking as it backed into the station. As soon as the garage door slid close, Randy sopped up the rainwater from underneath the vehicle with the mop. The driver popped out, looking at Randy, and said, “Floor mopping today?”
Randy nodded, “You guys all make a mess. Somebody’s got to clean up after you.”
The guy looked at Randy, smiled, then walked away. It was normal firehouse banter. On another day, the two of them would probably have stood around and talked about the upcoming college football season or argued about what plays the New Orleans Saints should run on their home opener, But not today. Randy looked down again, continuing the rhythmic swipes of the rope mop on the floor.
An hour later, Bill came out into the garage. Randy had just finished his second mopping of the floor, the water black in the rolling bucket, “Lunch is just about ready. Think you’ve done enough mopping for this morning?”
Randy looked back over the floor, much of it still wet, the water refusing to evaporate with the humidity from the tropical storm floating overhead and filtering into the building. Reaching over, Randy flipped on the ceiling fans, hoping that would help remove some of the moisture. “It was dirty. I’ll be in for lunch in a couple of minutes,” he said, pushing the mop and bucket across the floor, the clatter of the wheels echoing in the garage. Going into the utility closet just past the door into the common room, Randy flipped on the light switch. On the walls on either side, there was extra equipment neatly displayed on shelves — two extra helmets, two extra facemasks, and a rack with replacement oxygen tanks bolted to the wall. Passing all of those, Randy pushed the bucket and mop to the back, where there was a slop sink. He spent the next couple of minutes cleaning everything out, putting it back where it belonged.
By the time he finished, lunch was halfway over, all the guys seated with plates in front of them. They took turns cooking. Nothing fancy. As Randy passed by, it looked like sandwiches and chips. All the seats were taken except for one between Chief Bartlett and Bill. Randy sighed in relief, realizing he wouldn’t have to answer too many questions from the other guys at the moment. That was good, he thought, sliding into the chair between the two of them. Luckily, they ignored him. Randy stared down at the food on his plate and tried a bite. The turkey sandwich tasted bitter in his mouth, the chips too salty. He took a few more bites, trying to wash the dryness down his throat with a glass of water. As he sat there, he listened to the other guys, some of whom were talking about their families and their dogs. One of the guys was telling a story about how his mom got her hand stuck in the kitchen disposal and
he had to go over and get her out, “How crazy is that?” he said. Another guy started talking about his son’s baseball game. When Randy looked up at him, not meaning anything by it, the guy looked back, blinked, and then said, “Well, how long do we think the storm is going to last?” he said, changing the subject off his kids.
Randy chewed slowly, sadness overwhelming him. He realized it wasn’t just sadness about Lexi and Keira, but the way everything had disrupted his life. The idea of going into work seemed like a good one when he and Keira talked about it, but nothing at the firehouse was even the same. The guys were tiptoeing around him, not sure what to say. Randy took a sip of water. He couldn’t blame them. If he was in their shoes, he wouldn’t know what to say either. There was nothing they could say that would make him feel better. The only words that would heal his heart were, “Randy, Lexi is home and safe.”
By dinnertime, the chief called them all together again, “I just got a call from the regional fire chief. He said the worst part of the storm is getting ready to come into our area now. We should expect to start getting calls from people needing help. The ground is already saturated, so flooding is going to be an issue. We need to be prepared with multiple routes to any calls that we get in case the roads are impassable. I’ve got a call into the township road manager to make sure he’s keeping us updated on anything they’ve closed or have marked as flooded. Hopefully, that will save us some time.” Just as the words came out of Chief Bartlett’s mouth, the alarms overhead rang. “Bill, Randy, go take this one,” the chief barked.
Randy nodded, jumping up out of his chair and running out into the garage. With the storm raging overhead, he and Bill pulled on rain gear as they jumped into the ambulance, not taking the time to fasten their jackets closed. Normally, an ambulance run simply meant work pants and navy-blue Tifton Fire T-shirt, but in this weather, they’d get soaked through in a matter of seconds. At least the rain gear would keep them dry.
As they drove, dispatch relayed more information to them. An elderly man, who lived about five miles from the station was having a heart attack, or at least his wife thought he was. Randy’s heart started to race, his chest tightening. Normally, a call like this wouldn’t bother him, but with the weather and under the circumstances, his nerves felt more frayed than usual. He chewed his lip and then looked over at Bill, “You think we’re going to get to the hospital okay with this one?”
“We’ll figure it out, buddy. Don’t you worry about that,” Bill said. Glancing over at Randy, he said, “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. Just a little worried about the transport,” he lied. Sure, he was worried about getting the victim over to the hospital, but that wasn’t what was lurking in his mind and heart. Lexi was. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Keira and another one to her sister, checking in. He knew there wasn’t any news — Keira would have called him right away if there was — but he wanted to check in with them anyway. Keira’s sister would tell him how she was doing, how she was really doing.
Pulling up the driveway of an old farmhouse, the lights on the ambulance bouncing off of the wet siding, sheets of rain driving across the yard, Randy saw the front door open, the silhouette of a woman waving at them. Randy didn’t take time to unload the gurney. He grabbed the advanced life support kit from behind him and ran at a sprint across the driveway and up the front walk, leaving Bill behind. Panting, he got to the front door, “Ma’am? You said your husband isn’t feeling well?” Randy tried to use calming language, but his heart was pounding in his chest.
The woman stared at him, her eyes wide behind her round glasses, “Yes! Over here! I’m not even sure he’s breathing!”
Randy followed the woman into the sitting room, where the TV was on in the background, a weather person showing the radar images of the tropical storm overhead. The woman’s husband was in the chair, his head slumped to the side, his face pale, his mouth open. “Sir? Can you hear me?” Randy said, using his fist to rub on the man’s sternum. It was one of the most effective ways to wake someone up. Randy felt for a pulse. It was there, but faint.
By the time Bill came in out of the rain, Randy had the man flat on his back on the floor, attaching AED leads to his chest. The mechanical voice coming from the machine read the pulses from his heart and said, “Normal heart rhythm detected.” Randy breathed a sigh of relief. Why the man was unconscious, he still didn’t know, but that was something for the doctors to figure out. At least he was alive.
Randy stood up, looking at the woman, who was standing behind him, her arms crossed over her chest, one hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide, “Ma’am?” Randy said, bending over a little, trying to catch her eye. “Your husband has a normal heart rhythm. We’re going to get him packed up and off to the hospital. Would you like to ride with us?”
The woman nodded, “Why isn’t he awake?”
“I don’t know that part, ma’am,” Randy said. “That will be something for the doctors to figure out. But what I can tell you is that for the moment, he’s stable.” Randy glanced over at Bill and gave a nod. The two of them worked silently, starting an IV and getting the man up onto the gurney. Bill covered the man’s legs with a blanket and fastened belts over his legs, waist and chest so he wouldn’t fall off of the bed as they moved him. From inside of one of the first aid bags Bill brought in, Randy pulled out a plastic tarp. He looked back at the woman, “Ma’am, we’re just about ready to go. If you’d like to ride with us, how about if you go grab a raincoat and your purse and any other information you might need, like any medication your husband is on?” The woman nodded without saying anything, turning and walking away.
By the time they got to the front door, the woman was right behind them. Randy nodded to her, “You stay right here in the doorway for me while we get your husband out into the ambulance and situated, okay? I’ll be back for you in just a moment.” The woman didn’t say anything, standing stock still. She looked like she was in shock. Randy would have to remember to say something to the doctors when they got over to the hospital. In a way, the woman just looked like an older version of Keira — the haunted look in her eyes, the way her lips pursed together. Randy shook off the thought, trying to avoid thinking of Lexi.
Stepping out into the rain, Randy pulled the plastic sheeting up over the man’s face, laying it loosely so that the man on the gurney wasn’t completely soaked with water by the time they got him into the ambulance. Once Randy heard the satisfying click of the bed as it locked into the back of the ambulance, he ran back to the door where the woman was waiting where they’d found her, still silhouetted in the lights from the house. This time, she had on a long raincoat, the hood already pulled up, her purse tucked under her arm. “You ready?” Randy said, offering her his arm.
It took a little longer to get back to the ambulance with the older woman in tow. She didn’t move very fast. Randy helped her up into the back where Bill was busy adjusting monitors on her husband. Randy slammed the doors and ran around the front, glad to be inside of the dry cab. Now, if he could just get them all to the hospital in one piece…
* * *
Ollie’s van was just a mile down the road when his eyes started to swim in front of him. The van swerved, the tires screeching on the wet pavement. There was a thud and a few loud bumps as the van lurched to a stop, stuck in a drainage ditch filled with water on the side of the road. Furious, Ollie pounded on the steering wheel, “For the love of God! Nothing ever goes my way!” he yelled, his voice booming off the inside of the van.
Ollie sat there for a moment, leaning his head on the steering wheel. He wasn’t a hard The two shots of bourbon he’d sucked down before he left the bar were catching up with him, his head pounding, waves of nausea rolling over him. It was nearly impossible to see in the dark. He sighed. He needed to get home. Revving the engine, Ollie threw the van into reverse, hearing the tires spin underneath him. Ollie tried going forward with the same result. He pounded his fist on the steering wheel again, trying
one more time to back the van out of the ditch. It didn’t work. Ollie pushed the door open, having to climb up and out of the side of the van to get back onto the road. As he did, water seeped into the inside of the van. In the dark, it was hard to see. There were no lights nearby. The rain was pouring down, instantly soaking through his shirt and hair.
Ollie climbed back into the van, looking for his phone. He retrieved it out of a puddle of water, the screen cracked from him throwing it. His hands shook as he tried to decide whether to call for help or not. If he called the local police station, they’d send out someone to help him, but they’d quickly figure out he was drunk. He checked the time. It was well after midnight. There was no one he could call for help, at least not at the moment. Another wave of nausea washed over him. If I can just close my eyes for a couple of minutes, maybe I can figure out what to do, Ollie thought as he passed out.
42
By the time Bill and Randy made it back to the fire station, it was nearly midnight. Predictably, the roads were swamped. As they backed in, Chief Bartlett met them by the ambulance, “Things go okay?”
“Aside from the fact that it took us twice as long to get to the hospital as it should have been and about three times as long to get back here? Yeah,” Bill said, walking off.
Randy shook his head a little. Though he and Bill were friends, Bill could be a little surly from time to time, “Yes, to answer your question, it was fine. An elderly gentleman was unconscious when we got to the house. Not sure why. Could be an issue with his heart, but we had a normal rhythm the whole way to the hospital. I’m having them take a look at his wife, too. She seemed pretty spooked by the whole thing.”
