Then one day the library installed a new computer with a modem connected to a telephone. What piqued her interest to the point that Ruth found her true calling, was the internet. In its infancy back then, with its ear grating dial up, extremely slow load times, and only one browser, the internet wasn’t seen by most as anything useful. As Ruth taught herself to use both the computer and the internet, she began to see a potential that others did not, especially her husband. Against his wishes, she got a part time job, saved her money, and bought her own computer and added a second telephone line to use for the dial up connection. Six months later they were divorced, and she was supporting herself with an online store that she later sold for millions of dollars.
It was easy for Ruth to see the signals that the men gave her, mostly because they only wanted one thing, but she was completely blind to the signals that women gave out, including her own. She had to find a way to reach Kate and convince her that friendship was all she wanted. But how should she do that? She could do like Kate suggested and move on to other women, although her first attempt was a disaster. It’s just that with Kate, she was free to try anything, do anything and know that her partner would embrace it, and encourage her. Other women would expect her to know what she’s doing, expect her to bring them to the peak of perfection, and that was something she was not confident enough to do. Right then, in that stage of her life, Ruth preferred that anything goes because that kind of freedom was exhilarating. She made up her mind, she would convince Kate somehow that it wasn’t about love; it was about flexibility, particularly hers, in bed.
“Kate, we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing more I can say, Ruth, I’m sorry.”
Before Ruth could reply, more people walked in to the hospital, looking dazed and lost.
*
The cameraman, wearing scrubs, a paper cap and booties, stood on the table directly above the patient, his spotlight shining over the weathervane sticking out of the patient’s chest, his camera filming the action. He zoomed out to reveal Joyce and Vicky, also wearing scrubs, a paper cap and rubber gloves. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Frank Berry, looked at the patient, and then nervously looked over at the generator rattling in the corner. He nodded to Joyce that the patient was asleep, as she listened closely to the patient’s breathing. She thought she heard bone rubbing on bone, and diagnosed that the object impaling him might have cut or broken the sternum. She knew that could be a good thing or a very bad thing, especially with the primitive tools she would be forced to use.
Joyce looked at Vicky and said, “Okay, here we go. Vicky, you’re going to pull out the uh, pig, and then I’ll see what we have inside. If we’re lucky, all I’ll need to do is sear off the bleeders as quickly as I can and get him stable enough to transport. Dr. Berry will let me know if his blood pressure becomes too erratic, and the cameraman up there, will keep his spotlight on the open wound regardless of what else is going on. Everybody understand what they’re doing?”
The cameraman put his hand to his ear piece and then asked, “Wait, what are your names?”
“Our names? What the hell does‒‒”
Vicky cut Joyce off, and quickly introduced everyone. She knew first hand that the news media only cooperated if you did, so in this case, it was best to give them what they wanted.
“And what is your name,” Joyce asked the cameraman.
“Levon, Levon Jones, ma’am,” he replied nervously.
“Okay, now that we are all on a first name basis can we please try and save this man’s life?” Joyce was scared, something she rarely got when doing surgery, but this time she was out of her element and it annoyed her. She was use to the best technology and the finest tools money can buy, but now she was in an outdoor makeshift operating room, using a camera spotlight to light her way around a man’s heart chamber. In her hand she held a battery operated electro cautery instrument that she didn’t like to use, because they never worked well for her. “Levon, listen to me.” she said in a softer tone, “When she pulls that thing out of this man’s chest, and I start burning the flesh, it’s going to smell like your worst nightmare. It’s imperative that you hold that light steady, but it’s even more important that you don’t throw up on my patient, do you understand?”
Levon swallowed hard and replied, “Understood ma’am.”
*
“You’re watching ZNN news and if you’ve just joined us, you are about to see a live surgery on the streets of Little Rock, Arkansas, in what has not been confirmed yet as an EF5 tornado that practically destroyed the city. We have learned that the surgeon is Dr. Joyce McMillan, a nationally known cardiovascular surgeon from New York City, and she is about to perform surgery on a particularly strange case. Her nurse attending is Victoria Montgomery-Cassidy, President and CEO of St. Frances Hospital. Our cameraman tells us that she was just married a few hours ago in an outdoor wedding, just before the tornado hit that area. The hospital was untouched. The anesthesiologist is Dr. Frank Berry, also from St. Frances, and the cameraman filming and filling in as the surgical light, is Levon Jones, from our affiliate TV station in Little Rock. They are about to do major surgery on a man right there on the street, in a tent, without the proper equipment. Again let me warn you, this is a live feed of an actual surgery at the scene of a disaster. It may be too graphic for some viewers.”
*
“Unit 49, 10-35. Repeat, unit 49, confidential information. Over.”
Aidan looked at the back of her walkie-talkie and realized she was unit 49, “Unit 49, roger that, 10-21, I will call you on my cell phone. Over.” But when Aidan pulled out her cell phone she found that there were no bars indicating service. The storm had blown over several towers and the city was without power or cell phone service. “This is unit 49, 10-22, disregard last transmission, instead 10-86, I am moving to channel 9, repeat, channel 9. Over.” Aidan switched channels and heard Paul’s voice.
“Unit 49, are you there? Over.” Paul asked.
“I’m here, what’s up, Paul? Over.”
“Are you alone? Over.”
Aidan walked as far away from the other people as she could get, “Go ahead. Over.”
“The bastard has escaped from jail, do you copy? Over.” Paul had been listening to the police chatter on his radio, and learned that the city jail was damaged by the tornado, and several prisoners made their escape during the chaos, including Harold Cassidy.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Aidan yelled to no one in particular.
“Did you copy? Over.” Paul didn’t want to be too detailed because he knew that talking on a walkie-talkie can be heard by any one on that channel, but he needed to make sure that Aidan understood what he was trying to say.
“Yes, copy that,” Aidan clicked off and let out a string of curse words.
“We’re secure here; I’ll come help you. Over.”
“Negative, he will most likely head straight to you. Make sure the parents are safe, and I’ll get Jerry to help me. Over.”
“Roger that, keep me informed. Over and out.” Paul knew Aidan was right, a crazed maniac like that wouldn’t hesitate to try and finish what he had started.
Aidan turned back to the regular channel and paged Jerry. She wanted his help to capture her father again. After all, Jerry was instrumental in helping to catch him the first time, but now, instead of being armed with just a hunter’s knife, as a full-fledged Special Agent, Jerry was armed with a Sig P229 pistol, just as Aidan was. Before they headed out to the disaster, Aidan and Jerry retrieved their weapons from Vicky’s office safe, as per protocol. So this time, Aidan was not going to leave anything to chance, this time she was going to stop her father once and for all.
Chapter 9
A light wind blew dust particles around the still smoldering debris, as more rubble fell down from the buildings. First responders were hampered by the large piles of debris, and rescue attempts moved at a snail’s pace. Healthcare workers from St. Frances were frustrated by the limitatio
ns the wreckage presented them with, and many felt horribly inadequate, but they kept working, offering the victims everything they had, especially their compassion.
Vicky took a deep breath and crossed herself in prayer, and then she put both of her hands on the weathervane and pulled. When it didn’t budge she pulled again. “Oh my God, it’s stuck!”
“Stuck? Let me take a look at that,” Joyce leaned in and tried to pull the weathervane out, but as Vicky had said, it was stuck. She pulled back a flap of skin from around the wound to get a closer look, as Vicky sucked up the blood oozing from the wound with the turkey baster, and then expelled it into a bucket beside her.
“Levon, lean your light in closer for a minute.” Joyce instructed.
Levon did as he was told, and as the light from his camera penetrated deeper into the wound, Joyce saw that the object was wedged into the sternum, cutting it right down the middle.
“Oh shit!” Joyce looked up at Vicky and Dr. Berry, and then back at the patient, “Okay I have good news and bad news,” she said as she continued to probe the wound, “The good news is that if I needed to reach the heart I won’t have to worry about cracking the chest. The bad news is that it looks like the pig has a tail cutting into the right ventricle.”
“Oh shit!” the cameraman exclaimed. Even he knew that was not a good scenario.
*
“This is ZNN,” the anchorman said, “And you’re watching live video of the horrific devastation in downtown Little Rock, Arkansas, where Dr. Joyce McMillan is attempting to save a man’s life who was hurt in the unconfirmed EF5 tornado. We apologize for the cursing and the graphic content, but this is an unprecedented event in that we are not editing or delaying broadcast so you can see firsthand the devastation a tornado can cause. If you feel this is too extreme for you, please turn to our sister channel, ZLN, for what’s happening elsewhere in the world. We now return you to the live action at ground zero.”
*
Aidan had been on the far side of the city when she got Paul’s radio call, and she immediately made her way to the city police station, and introduced herself as an agent for DHS, to the Desk Sergeant at the front desk. He was practically the only one in the station, as everyone else was out on the streets, helping with the disaster. She asked him for news on escaped convict, Harold Cassidy. He explained that the section of the jail that Harold was being held in was hit by the tornado, leaving a large gaping hole in the brick wall. During the chaos, Harold had apparently over powered a guard, and had taken the officer’s gun with him. An APB had been issued, and he is presumed armed and dangerous. The Desk Sergeant explained that they think he has already made it out of the city, but at this time, they do not have the man power to pursue him because of everything else that is going on. He assured her that they have asked every available agency, including Homeland Security, to help with search and rescue, as well as recapturing the escaped prisoners.
Aidan guaranteed him that she would hunt Harold Cassidy down personally, if it was the last thing she ever did.
As he watched the angry young woman march out the door, the Desk Sergeant believed that she would indeed.
Just as Aidan was leaving the precinct, Jerry called her on the walkie-talkie, or the two-way as he preferred to call them, “Unit 49, this is unit 52. Over.”
“This is unit 49, go ahead unit 52. Over.”
“Unit 49, be advised, 10-37, eyes on target moving across West Capitol Avenue. I am moving to intercept, but am three blocks down. Over.”
“10-4,” Aidan replied then said to herself, “Mother fucker!” She clicked on the voice button again and told Jerry that she was on her way to the surgical tent, where she had last seen Vicky.
The hardest hit area, and the area she knew that Vicky would still be in, was West Capitol Avenue. There was practically a skyscraper on every corner of the street leading up to the state capital, and she had seen firsthand, that almost all of those buildings had been damaged, most of them severely. Entire streets were impassable because of the destruction, so what should have taken less than ten minutes to get where she needed to go, took twice the time because she couldn’t move as fast as her fear and frustration were urging her to. She made some dangerous maneuvers that left her bleeding and bruised, but she didn’t care, her crazed father, who was armed and she knew firsthand was very dangerous, was once again in the vicinity of his intended victim, her wife, Vicky. She could only hope that he was as hampered by the debris as she was.
It took both Joyce and Vicky pulling together; to remove the copper object from the bone, and Vicky placed it on a box next to her. Then she covered the chest in cling-wrap to help protect it from germs and debris as much as possible. Joyce used her scalpel to slice a slit in the clear plastic wrap, and Vicky poured saline solution onto the patient’s heart to cool it enough to slow the flow of blood. Joyce then slipped her hands through and pulled the bones apart as much as possible, exposing the heart so she could get to it. Joyce than began to cauterize the bleeders and suture the tears. It wasn’t ideal, and certainly not to Joyce’s satisfaction, but it was the best they could offer under less than ideal conditions.
“How you doing up there, Levon?” Joyce asked the cameraman.
“Uh…, just thinking how glad I am that I didn’t have that fifth slice of pizza at lunch, ma’am.”
Joyce and Vicky both laughed as they continued working on the patient. Once the object had been removed, everything else went very smoothly, until the patient’s heart stopped. Joyce immediately began to massage his heart with her hands, pumping the much needed blood to his body.
“Damn it! His heart has stopped. Get the paddles charged. Two hundred joules,” Joyce said to Vicky, and then she looked up at the cameraman and motioned for him to get off the table. She checked the sutures to make sure they were holding, and was not surprised to see that they were.
Vicky grabbed the portable defibrillator, placed the paddles on the patient’s chest, and set the dial to two hundred. When the machine had charged she placed her hand on the button, and then nodded for Joyce to take her hand out of the man’s chest.
Vicky yelled ‘Clear!’ But nothing happened when she punched the button, the paddles did not discharge. She reset everything and tried again to no avail. “It’s not working!” she yelled in desperation.
Joyce immediately began massaging the heart as she instructed Vicky to prepare 1cc of Epinephrine hydrochloride. Vicky plunged the prepared needle into the patient’s IV drip and waited, as Joyce stopped massaging. But the heart did not start beating again, and Joyce immediately returned to massaging it.
Suddenly the top floor of a building right next them began to crumble, causing dust and mortar to fly everywhere. Joyce and Vicky immediately covered the open wound with their bodies as the dust barreled horizontally through the tent. Also falling with the debris was a live electrical wire, which began to dance on the ground, sparking charges with everything it touched.
“Son of a bitch,” Joyce yelled, “live wire!” but then the sight of it sparked an idea in her mind, and Joyce looked around until she found who she was looking for, “Keep up the massage, I’ll be right back,” she said to Vicky, and then ran over towards a man in an electric lineman uniform. The cameraman tried to keep up with Joyce but by the time he ran over to her, Joyce and the worker were already running back to the tent where Joyce pointed at the copper weathervane and the live wire. He put on his insulated gloves and went over to the live wire and waited, while Joyce and the anesthesiologist worked together to bend the weathervane into a horseshoe shape.
“Oh my God, are you going to do what I think you are?” Vicky asked in shock, her hand still inside the cavity of the man unconscious on the gurney.
“What? What’s she going to do?” The cameraman asked, but no one had time to answer him.
“What else can we do, we’re out of time and options.” Joyce explained to her, and then yelled, “Everyone, stand back!”
Vicky used her fr
ee hand to grab a towel nearby, and placed it in the patient’s mouth so that he wouldn’t bite through his tongue when the electricity pulsated through him. Joyce affixed the paddles back to the patient’s chest, and then laid the horseshoed weathervane across his chest so that they touched the paddles. Then she nodded to the utilities worker, and he picked up the live wire and brought it over to the defibrillator machine. Everyone took several steps back as Joyce yelled clear, and Vicky removed her hand from the heart cavity.
*
“Oh my, God!” Kate said loudly.
Ruth turned to see what Kate was upset about, and she saw a young girl, no more than sixteen years old, and no taller than five feet, weighing maybe 100 pounds if she were soaking wet, standing in the entrance way to the front lobby, holding a tiny baby in her arms. Ruth took a closer look and gasp, “Oh my God!”
“What’s going on? What’s the problem?” Alice asked as she hurried over to the gawking women. “Oh my!”
The girl’s rumpled dress was covered in blood, her hair matted with sweat, and her eyes wild with pain. She looked like she had tried to deliver her own baby, but didn’t quite get finished. The baby, sleeping in her arms, was still attached to the cord that had not yet been cut, and it was pulling tightly on the placenta which still had not delivered. The cord was stretched tight between the placenta still inside the mother, and the baby she carried in her arms.
Remember This Day Page 13
