by Jamie Davis
Brynne watched her walk back down the hallway to the bedrooms, then turned and left with a shake of her head. She grabbed Dean by the shoulder where he still stood with all the gear draped on him, confused. She led him out to the ambulance and started to help him stow the bags in their compartments.
“You okay?” she asked him, putting her hand on his shoulder.
“What happened back there?” he said, trying to make sense of it. “One minute I was checking a heart rhythm on the monitor, and then I was standing there and you were banging on that stupid cowbell. I vaguely remember you telling me to stick something in my ears, then you loaded me up and sent me out here.”
“Lydia, our patient,” she began, “is a siren. You know, the mythical creatures that lured men to their deaths on the rocks from ships at sea. Her voice is like a super hypnotic aphrodisiac to men. As soon as she was able to speak normally, she started to turn on the charm and get you to comply as her own personal paramedic. I should have been paying more attention. With certain types of calls, the dispatchers get a cue from the higher ups via the computer to send us responding on ‘Omega’ status that alerts us to take special care. We have a bag with a few special tools in it for just such occasions. I would have brought it in if I realized we needed it. My mistake.”
She walked over and pulled open the passenger door for Dean. “Climb in. My guess is that you are going to be a bit fuzzy for a half hour or so.” Dean watched her glance back at the house behind her before walking around to the driver’s side of the ambulance with a shake of her head.
As she climbed in behind the wheel, he asked her, “What was that you had me put in my ears?”
“Beeswax,” she answered as she started the unit and pulled back into the street. “For some reason, it’s the only thing that works on sirens. I think it has something to do with some kind of residual resonant ‘buzzing’ trapped in the wax from the hive that stops the siren’s voice from getting through. Regular earplugs, headphones and other similar things just do not work.”
“It’s obvious I needed hearing protection because you were making all that racket on the stupid cowbell,” Dean asked. “Where did that come from, anyway?”
“All part of the emergency kit,” Brynne said. “Something about the tones of a standard cowbell breaks through the spell, reversing some of the effects. It drives the siren nuts, too. They hate it. Based on that fact alone, I have a theory that the Rolling Stones’ ‘Honky Tonk Woman’ is really about a siren in a southern bar. No proof, of course, but that cowbell opening and then the continuous beat of it throughout the rest of the song would drive a siren nuts, and that makes me think it’s true.”
“So, I was under a spell, and you used a cowbell to break it,” Dean said, a sudden thought occurring to him. “Oh, no!”
“That’s right!” she said, grinning ear to ear. “You had a fever and the only cure was …” Dean groaned and then joined her. “… More cowbell.”
10
The incident with the siren really shook Dean up. He’d learned in school about being situationally aware and keeping scene safety in mind, but they never discussed a sneak attack by a siren. As Brynne drove them back to the station he kept mulling over the question of how he was supposed to protect himself, or his partner, when he couldn’t recognize some dangers when they were staring him in the face?
When they got back to the station, he got out and helped Brynne back the ambulance in, then started methodically repacking the bags and restocking the used medications from the dispenser. When he was done, he sat on the rear bumper. He enjoyed the peace and quiet of the ambulance bay. After a bit, he walked over to the squad room door and went in. Brynne was at the desk on the phone. He heard her talking to someone.
“I didn’t think I would need to call you either, Rudy. The issue needs to be dealt with, though. There’s an unregistered siren living over off of Quartet Drive. She said she doesn’t like to deal with all the red tape, which I could care less about one way or the other. The problem is that she can’t seem to stop trying to charm guys. She got my partner before I could stop her, and I would still be there trying to snap the spell if I hadn’t found the cowbell so quickly.”
She paused for a moment, listening. “It’s not funny Rudolf. I’m responsible for him, and he’s still too new to know what is going on most of the time. I just need you to talk to her and make sure she knows how things play out around here. James said to call you if there was any trouble. Well, this is trouble, and I need you to take care of it.”
She listened some more then said, “Thank you, Rudy. I appreciate it. All right. See ya.”
She looked up at Dean as he approached the desk. “What’s up? Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m still pondering what happened earlier,” Dean said. “How am I supposed to prepare for things like that when they are completely out of my realm of knowledge? I don’t like being blind-sided like that.”
“Sit down,” Brynne said, gesturing to the chair next to the recliner she was in. “As far as scene safety goes, that’s mostly my job right now, especially when it comes to Unusuals. A couple of things in our system broke on this particular call. You should be thinking about it so you can learn from it. We both should. We need to make sure we don’t make the same mistake again, right?”
Dean nodded and she continued. “But there is no reason to blame yourself. Like I said earlier. I should have picked up on the fact that something was out of whack. We knew it was an Unusual response, but I wasn’t familiar with the home or neighborhood so that meant they were new in town or had a new problem they couldn’t deal with on their own. Apart from whatever algorithm that the computer and the higher-ups use to pick our calls for us, she wasn’t someone I was familiar with. Based on all of that, I should have brought the emergency kit in with me.”
“What’s in the emergency kit?” Dean asked. “Besides beeswax and cowbells?”
Brynne stood up. “I should have showed this to you sooner. Let’s go and see.” She led the way to the ambulance bay, then took him to the cabinet just behind the driver’s door. The cabinet held road flares, a tool box, wheel chocks and other odds and ends. Dean had never paid a lot of attention to it because the items in it were rarely used. She popped open the door and pulled out a black hard plastic Pelican case. She put the case on the ground, undid the four flip-up latches, and opened it up. The inside of the case looked like something out of a spy movie. It was lined with foam, including the lid. Slots had been expertly cut in the foam in various shapes and sizes, and in the slots rested assorted bottles and vials. He saw what looked like a dog whistle, a cross and a Star of David. Set into a recessed area in the lid with a velcro strap holding it in place, were the cowbell and the drumstick Brynne had used to break Lydia’s spell.
“So,” Brynne began, crouching down next to the container. She pointed to the cowbell and drumstick in the lid, then to a paper-wrapped block the size of a jumbo pack of gum. “There’s the block of beeswax I used.” She started pointing out other things, occasionally lifting a glass vial or metal tin to show him. “We have holy water, of course. There’s a priest or minister who comes by and re-blesses it for us periodically to maintain its potency. This tin contains dried African termites which I’ve been told are the only cure for the bite of an Impundulu or African vampire spirit. Never had to use them, and I never want to,” she continued with a shudder. “There are various holy symbols to make sure we cover all the bases. The important thing with those is that you select the one that matches your beliefs or heritage or it won’t work on those Unusuals who have an evil side.”
“Like vampires?” Dean asked. “Gibbie doesn’t seem evil, but I guess they aren’t all like that.”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Like vampires. They can all be warded off by a boldly presented holy symbol that’s been blessed by a priest of the religion in question. It has to do with the fact that they feed on the life energy of living beings. Nowadays most get their blood
from legitimate sources or survive on animal blood. But occasionally, we get a case where one is feeding on humans, and we need to be prepared for that.” This time Dean shuddered.
She pulled out what looked like a small med kit from one recess. “This is the medication kit of particular Unusual remedies.” She unzipped the pouch and Dean saw medication vials inside with the familiar caps that had the rubber membranes so you could draw off the med with a syringe and needle. “There’s liquified wolfsbane in here for the odd lycan bite. We’re vaccinated, but the public isn’t so if we get a patient who’s been bitten, we can usually ward off the infection with this if we get there in time.”
“Does it work just on wolf forms or does it work on all animal lycans?” Dean asked. “You said there were others.”
“I think the name wolfsbane comes from the fact that the plant was known to work on wolf lycans, but it works on them all.” She pointed to a small vial. “There’s liquified garlic extract.” We use that on cardiac arrest patients who have a suspected vampire bite. It doesn’t revive them, but it will stop them from changing after they die if we fail to resuscitate them successfully.”
“I don’t see any stakes or crossbows,” Dean observed.
“We aren’t the police, and it is not our place to carry weapons,” she said. “When the situation is dangerous, we stage somewhere away from the scene or remove ourselves as best we can and get to safety. There is a team of cops who deal with Unusuals who don’t like to play nice. There’s also James and his leadership group. They do a good job of policing Unusuals, too. We get the necessary tools to protect ourselves and our patients, but no weapons. It gives the wrong impression, and I think makes us think in the wrong direction.”
“So you don’t think medics have the right to carry weapons?” Dean asked. He knew this was a hot topic among some EMS circles.
“My opinion is if you want to carry a gun on the job, be a cop or a soldier,” Brynne said. “We’re healers and healthcare professionals. It is not our place to be fighting battles or dealing death.” She looked at Dean. “Are you one of those EMS providers who thinks we should all have concealed carry permits in case a patient becomes combative?”
“No, not me,” Dean said raising his hands. “I was just asking that’s all. With all the weird things we’ve encountered I just wondered what we would do if attacked by something we couldn’t handle.”
“Look,” Brynne said. “I know that you’re a little shaken up by what happened tonight. I understand, I really do. But the system worked. We had the tools we needed to protect ourselves, and we did our jobs to help the patient. The fact that the patient was a manipulative, psycho bitch with delusions of grandeur is beside the point. We don’t have to like our patients. We do have to treat them and do it safely for both ourselves and them. Understand?”
“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I guess you’re right. Tonight did kind of freak me out, though. I’ve never been in a situation where I had no control over what happened.” He met Brynne’s eyes. “I guess I owe you a thank-you, Boss.”
“You owe me a lot,” she said, “but not for this. We both have a lesson to learn from tonight’s events. I need to think, and remember that you’re still new. You can’t protect yourself because you haven’t learned how to be aware of Unusuals’ powers in play. There’s a possibility - even a probability - that you could have gotten yourself out of that situation back there if you’d realized what was happening early enough. No spell or power works instantly, so, in the future, if you notice something out of place or weird happening or you don’t feel right, tell me. If I’m not around, just get up and leave the situation until you figure it out.”
Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that patient abandonment?”
“Safety first,” Brynne said. “You cannot help the patient if you’re incapacitated, right? So protect yourself and your partner first, and then the patients, and then bystanders, in that order. Got it?”
“Got it,” Dean said. “I guess I just need some time to process everything that happened tonight.”
“You also might need to talk to a professional,” Brynne said. “I’ll call headquarters and get the number of a service we use. You can even do it over the phone if meeting in person isn’t convenient.” Dean started to object, but Brynne held up a hand. “Look, we can’t do this alone, and there’s a support structure that is specifically put into place to help us manage the bad stuff we see on this job. You learned about this in school, Dean. You just have to apply what you learned to yourself. There is no shame in asking for help or in getting that help. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or can’t cope; it’s about learning to cope. That takes some help sometimes.”
“I just never thought I would have to deal with anything like this,” Dean said. “I always thought that critical incident stress would be something that happened to someone else.”
“Now is not the time to be all macho, Dean,” Brynne said. “You might need some help dealing with tonight’s situation. No big deal. Look, if you cut your finger on the job and needed stitches to make it better, you would go do that right?” She looked at him and he nodded. “Think of this the same way. It is like stitches for your brain. You had something happen tonight, and you need to work through it in order to be at your top form the next time something happens.”
She shut the emergency case and snapped the latches down. “Here,” she said. “You put this back and I’ll go in and call HQ and get that number for you. It is part of your benefits package and it doesn’t cost you anything.” She got up and left him alone in the ambulance bay as she headed to the squad room.
Dean stared at the black case on the concrete floor next to the ambulance for a long time. He wasn’t used to feeling this way. He’d been completely helpless back there at Lydia’s house. He didn’t understand why someone whom he was helping would turn around and try to control or hurt him like that. It was not something he’d been prepared for. He particularly didn’t like how it had him second-guessing everything now. He wasn’t sure how it was going to affect him on the next call, or the one after that. Would he freeze up or not be able to think clearly because he was afraid of what might happen to him? How would that affect his ability to care for his patients or protect his partner? He had a lot of questions that needed answers, and he wasn't sure if there were any way he, or anyone else could answer them.
Dean finally stooped down and picked up the case on the floor, placing it back in the compartment in the side of the ambulance. Shutting the door, he wondered, not for the first time why he had been selected for this particular position. It would have been much easier treating regular people. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for being a paramedic at all. The door opening to the squad room behind him interrupted his thoughts.
“Dean,” Brynne said. “I found that number for you. Come on in. It’s open around the clock, twenty-four hours a day so you can call and chat with them now.”
“I think that might be a good idea, Brynne,” Dean said turning her way. “I’m questioning that I’m the right person for this job right now. Maybe you should call someone in to relieve me until I get this figured out.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Brynne said. “You come in and call. I’ll make sure that HQ knows we’re out of service for a little bit. They generally have backup in place for us if we need it and right now we need it.”
Dean followed her into the squad room. She handed him a sticky note with a phone number on it.
“See,” she said. “It is even toll-free. I also think you might want to talk to your instructor, Mike. I dropped him a quick email letting him know you might be calling. He helped me out a lot with something similar to this when I was still pretty new. It’s something we all run into from time to time on this job, and not just here on the Unusual side of things. Regular medics get stressed out by things they see, too.”
Dean took the number from Brynne and looked at it. He couldn’t figure out why he was feeling reluctant to c
all. He knew he needed help but taking that step felt like an admission of weakness.
“Dean,” Brynne said breaking through his thoughts. “Call the number. Talk to them and tell them what you’re feeling right now. It is all perfectly normal. We’re not getting any more calls tonight until you do it. Sit down, pick up the phone and dial the number. After that, do what you want, but tonight your job is to talk to the person on the other end of that line. I’m going back into the bunk room if you need me. Come get me when you’re done talking to them if you want.” She left the room, picking up her book from the recliner on the way by.
Dean walked over to the desk chair, pulled it out and sat down. He picked up the phone, glanced at the sticky note in his other hand and dialed the number. He sighed as it started ringing. After the second ring, it picked up.
“Hi, this is Rebecca, is this Dean?” the voice on the other end asked. She sounded very pleasant.
“Uh, yes. Yes, this Dean,” he said.
“I was told to expect your call,” Rebecca said. He swore he could hear her smiling. “I understand you had a rough situation tonight. Why don’t you tell me what happened.”
As he discussed the incident, it seemed like a weight was lifting off of him. Could it be some other kind of magic? Well, magic or not, he felt better. He may survive this after all.
11
The conversation with Rebecca was just what Dean needed. They talked for about an hour and he felt noticeably better after he got off the call. She warned him that this type of counseling for first responders was just the first part of treatment. He was going to need to follow up with her later that week. They set up an hour-long appointment in her offices across town for that Wednesday, his next day off. He was surprised to discover that he was actually looking forward to it.
He checked his email while he was in front of the computer and found a message from Mike Farver. Mike wanted to catch up with him for a cup of coffee at the end of his shift on his way into the academy. He said he’d come by at six and pick him up. Dean replied back that he’d be looking forward to it.
