by Kelly Moore
“Is the plane waiting on us?”
“Yeah, you’re all set up. Our members in California have already been dispatched and on their way.”
“Good job. We’ll dial you in when the plane is in the air.”
“Roger that,” he says and the line goes dead.
Wren and Aedon are waiting outside the building with their bags in tow. Aedon is on the phone with someone. Wren’s hand is toying with her hand. I hop out as soon as the limo stops by the curb and take a bag from each of them as the driver pops the trunk. We all pile in the back and Aedon finishes her phone conversation.
“I love you too, Mom. Tell Dad not to work too hard.” She puts the phone in her lap and runs her hands down her light blue-patterned Palusa pants. She scoots back in the seat and her sandaled feet rest next to Wren on the bench seat in front of her.
“Your mom okay?” Wren asks her.
“Yeah, she always worries about me when I fly, she has such a fear of planes.”
“She always has, hasn’t she?” I chuckle.
“She said to tell you hello, by the way.” She smiles over at me and then looks out the window.
Her mom has always loved me. I don’t think Aedon shared everything that happened between us or she would hate me for sure. Anytime we had time off in the summer, we would spend time at her house. Her parents were big hikers and campers. I had never been camping as a kid, so my first time was with Aedon. We hiked deep into the mountains and camped by a small lake, with the full moon’s reflection in the still lake the only source of light. It was so peaceful.
“Next time you speak to her, tell her I said hello.”
“So, do we have people already in the air?” Wren asks, changing the conversation.
“Yeah, Ander is all over it. We should be on the tarmac in thirty minutes. Once we are in flight, we can link up with him and get the latest news.”
Traffic is terrible, but my driver is one determined man, and he gets us there quickly by taking every shortcut that he knows. The pilot has already gotten clearance to take off and the co-pilot is helping us load our gear in the hanger. We have surgical and medical supplies all labeled in containers ready to go.
The plane has two seating areas, one with recliners, and the other with a table for our in-flight command center. A computer screen hangs from the wall next to the table. In the back of the plane are bunks stacked two on either side. Aedon heads for them and throws her bag on one of the top ones. Wren and I stow ours and head for the recliners for take-off. Aedon finishes putting her bags up and joins us.
The take-off is smooth. We wait for the all-clear from the pilot before we unbuckle and head for the table. Wren opens a desk drawer and retrieves a large map of the Pacific Northwest, smoothing out the edges as he unrolls it for us to see. Aedon grabs markers from a bag and immediately starts color coding areas while I set up the Bluetooth and connect with Ander.
It beeps. “Can you hear me?” I ask.
“Loud and clear, boss man.” He wastes no time. “There has been another, larger quake in Northern California only a few miles from where you’ll be landing. I already have all teams in the air and headed your direction.”
“I want you to send a quarter of the team to the Washington coastline. Have them help out there. The rest will be on the ground with us.”
“Any word on damages yet?” Wren asks.
“Reports are coming in of sections of the interstate collapsing on itself, and it’s rush the peak of rush hour. Several buildings are down.”
The radio screeches out another warning in the background. Aedon punches in a few numbers and Ander’s face fills our screen. “What is it?” she asks him.
Ander’s eyes are as big as saucers. “An 8.5 quake just hit the same area.”
“Those are rare, are you sure that’s right?” As soon as I ask, I hear the warning over the NEIC radio confirming the quake.
“Shit. Never mind diverting anyone, send them all to us.” I direct my attention to Aedon and Wren, who are already working on the map and talking a game plan.
Over the next several hours, we’ve worked nonstop getting everything lined up that we can. Wren has been on the phone coordinating with the Red Cross. Aedon already has tents delivered. I’ve been on the phone with the CEO of the nearest hospital to the quake’s epicenter. Injuries have already started rolling in to the hospital. I give him instructions to triage as many as they can to tents. One of our doctors will be outside the ER doors directing minor injuries to a tent that will be set up and manned by one of our teams in their parking lot. The critical injuries will be sent to them and one other hospital I’ve been in touch with to lessen their load.
A makeshift MASH unit will be in the worst hit parts. That’s where we’ll be performing trauma surgeries on victims that can’t wait or won’t make it to the hospital in time. Ander will have eyes and ears in the most devastated areas, linked to the rescue teams to let us know what’s coming in our direction.
The pilot announces that we will be landing in fifteen minutes. The three of us quickly suit up in our scrubs and prepare to go. After our feet hit the dirt there will be no time.
When the plane lands, we’re ushered off and into military jeeps. No time is wasted in loading our gear from the plane to military trucks. Military personnel already have roadblocks set up. They stand aside and let us pass, the Jeep thudding hard over the rubble and sending us bouncing around the interior.
We’re all very quiet as we try to process the mass destruction. Many buildings have collapsed in on themselves. Downed power lines launch sparks and spurts of fire into the air as they whip wildly around the chunks of concrete that lay scattered wildly about the ground. It looks as if a bomb had gone off. Military personnel and rescue workers sift through the dust and rubble, frantically shoving aside the remnants of furniture and office equipment in hopes of finding someone alive.
We hit another big bump before I see the MASH unit. I link with Ander to let him know that we’ve arrived and will be in place shortly, and that he should start the dispatching of patients to our tents.
Several of our team members, already hard at work, greet us on arrival. Surgical tables are staged around the tent along with handwashing units for us to scrub. Each table glows brightly, illuminated by surgical lighting strung up above it. People absorbed in their work fill every corner of the tent. The equipment from our plane is hauled in and we dive into the organized chaos to start setting it up, pulling out tray after tray of surgical tools, along with medications, fluids, IV start kits, dressing kits, chest tubes, intubation equipment, and anything and everything else we could need. Anesthesia equipment is already in place.
“Send them our direction,” I order Ander through my Bluetooth. Our sterile gowns go on and we begin the scrubbing process. Within in minutes the first three patients are rushed in on gurneys. The MASH unit, its tent organized and ready to handle the onslaught of injuries, snaps to attention.
I’m hands-deep in drilling a burr hole to relieve pressure from my patient’s brain when I hear Wren yell that his patient is coding. Aedon, who just finished her surgery, jumps in to help. She cracks open the patient’s chest and places small paddles on his heart. She shocks him and nothing happens. Without hesitation she reaches into the man’s chest with her hand and starts squeezing his heart, forcing it to beat. Wren urgently calls out orders while she stays intently focused on the heart in her hand. I make it through the skull and the trapped blood starts flowing. Finishing my procedure, I rip off my gloves and head for Wren’s table, where Aedon continues to squeezing his heart.
“Do you need a hand?” I ask through my mask.
She slowly removes her hand and watches for his heart to start beating on its own. Seconds later, it starts to beat, pumping its own blood. “We got him back!” she says. The grin behind her surgical mask is so wide that I can see her cheeks start to push up in the corners of it.
“Nice work,” Wren says, continuing to work on the
patient.
Aedon and I remove our surgical gowns and wash up again. While I’m scrubbing with the fine brush, meticulously cleaning every finger, I look over at Aedon. “It still fascinates me when you crack open a chest. You’re fearless, you know.”
“It’s not any different than you drilling a hole in someone’s head. I’ll take the chest any day over being close to someone’s brain. If the heart doesn’t restart, they die. If you drill too far… well… there are worse things than death.” She shakes her hands off and dries them before gowning up again. “I like my chances a lot better than yours.”
We continue our pace for hours. Many of them are saved by our hands, but some are lost too. Periodic aftershocks shake the tent with violent tremors and all work has to pause until the ground slows down enough to work. Aside from the brief gulps of water we allow ourselves between patients, we have no choice but to keep working through our exhaustion.
“Dr. Manning,” I hear in my link. “Dr. Manning,” I hear again. “Ashe! Can you hear me?” Ander’s voice echoes in my ear.
“Yes, I can hear you. I was concentrating on not severing a carotid artery,” I bark at him.
“You’re needed in the field. There is a family trapped in a car under one of the stacked interstates that collapsed. There are children involved and they’ll die if they don’t have surgery in the field.”
“Fuck! Can you finish here?” I ask the intern assisting me. He nods and I immediately remove my bloody gown. “Tell me where I need to be,” I say to Ander.
“I’ll text you the info and you can put it on your GPS.”
I head over to Aedon’s surgical table. Her patient is linked up to eight different drips transfusing massive units of blood into his body, while nearly the same amount leaves it through the hole where his arm used to be. “How’s it going?”
“It’s not looking good.”
“I have to go in the field. A family has been trapped beneath the rubble in their car. There are kids that need help.”
“You go, Wren and I have got this.”
“Okay.” I turn to walk away.
“Ashe.”
I turn back toward her.
“Be careful out there,” she says, peering over her surgical glasses.
I give a solemn nod and head out.
Chapter 10
A military escort takes me as far as they can in the Jeep. We travel the rest of the way on foot carrying supplies over piles of rubble. People are roaming around yelling in search for their loved ones. The Red Cross hands out water to volunteers and the injured. It will be dark soon, but the heat is still scorching. The sweat pouring from my pores has soaked through my scrubs. I take a bottle of water that is offered to me and down the whole thing without slowing my pace.
“Over here!” A man is waving in the distance.
“Ander, are you there?” I touch the Bluetooth in my ear.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m tracking you on the screen.”
“This area is so fucked up. I’m not sure if I’m even in the right place.”
“I’ve got a drone right above you and you’re almost on top of them.”
“Thanks.” I head in the direction of the man waving.
“They’re down here. Several firemen have already made it to them but they can’t move them,” the man says.
One of the military escorts starts tying a rope around my waist. “I’ll lower you down to them,” he says.
I get on my hands and knees, backing myself into the dark hole. He starts to lower me. “I need light in here!” I yell. A light shines from down below me and one from the top. It’s about a forty foot drop that was created from the earthquake. Destroyed vehicles litter the bottom.
I’m about half way down when I feel the earth start to shake again. I grip the rope tight in my hands, but the guy holding the rope above me must have lost his footing because the rope suddenly jerks and goes slack, dropping me to the ground and causing my left ankle to buckle under me.
I duck my head as debris tumbles down toward me and dust flies into my face. The shaking finally stops. Wiping my eyes so that I can see, I take a look at my ankle. I don’t think it’s broken, but definitely sprained. My hair releases clouds of concrete dust when I rub my hands through it.
I make my way off the ground, limping over to the car. A fireman stops me before I get to it. “The parents in the front seat are both dead. There are two young boys trapped in the back. The older one on the left is crushed and we can’t get him out. The 10-year-old is unconscious. He’s got a large hematoma forming on the right side of his head. His right pupil is blown. I’m not sure either one of them is going to make it.”
“I need my bag with all my medical equipment in it.” I tell him.
“I’ll get them to send it down.” He walks off and I hear him yelling for them to get my bags down here.
I make my way over a slab of concrete on the left side of the car. A boy sits in the back talking to his brother, telling him everything will be okay. I lean in through the window.
“I’m Dr. Manning. What’s your name, son?”
“Scott. Please help my brother.”
“Can I look at you first?”
He nods and his lip quivers. He’s pale as hell and his pulse is weak. I’m surprised he’s still conscious. I pull up his shirt to look at him and see with horror that he’s crushed from the waist down under a large piece of concrete that fell on top of the car. His injuries are fatal. As soon as we move him, he’ll bleed out.
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Alex, please help him,” he cries.
“I want you to keep talking to him. I’m going to go around to the other side and examine him.”
I limp over to him and see that there’s only a small space to reach between to get to him, much too small for me to work in. “I need these moved out of the way. Ander, if you can hear me, send more help down here. Tell Wren to get here as quick as he can. I need an extra set of hands, now!”
One by one, the military lower themselves down by rope. They start lifting what debris they can together. My mind is reeling, trying to figure out a way to save both of the kids. If I could get Alex stable and out of the car, I might be able to reach Scott and figure out a way to stop him from bleeding out.
After what seems like hours but is actually only minutes, the way is finally cleared for me to get to Alex. I feel for a pulse. It’s faint, but still there. Scott drifts in and out of consciousness. “Hey, buddy. Are you still with me?” I reach over and touch his shoulder.
His head pops up and wobbles. “Is he going to be okay?” he says weakly before his head falls back.
“Hand me a C-collar out of my bag,” I tell the fireman. I examine his head and his reflexes. “We need to get him out of this car and on a flat surface.” I pick up a piece of metal pipe and wedge the door open. The firemen pull him out and lay him on the ground.
I quickly use hand sanitizer to clean my hands, then pop open the chlorhexidine wand and rub it all over the area of Alex’s head that I want cleaned. “Keep your light on this spot,” I instruct the fireman. “Get an IV started on him with fluids opened wide.” I dig through my bag to get the drill and a sterile drape. Not that anything in here is sterile, but I want to prevent as much as I can. I pull out a surgical mask, glasses, and a pair of gloves, putting them all on. I cover the boy’s body with the drape.
I hook up the drill and place the bit against his skull, holding it steady as it burrows into his head. The earth starts to shake again and I freeze. “Damn it! Give me a fucking break!” I make sure to keep both hands on the drill, steadying it, until the earth stops moving. Lifting my shoulder, I wipe the sweat from my brow before it drips onto the boy. I move slowly and methodically with the drill until I a slight give lets me know I’m in place. Placing the drill on the ground, I take out a small, clear tube and insert it into his skull, pushing deeper until blood comes spewing out, spilling onto my scrubs soaking through to my s
kin. His blood is warm and heavy.
“Hand me the tape that’s in my bag,” I tell the paramedic, who is now by my side.
I secure the tube down around his ear. “Piggyback some antibiotics into his fluids and if he starts to wake give him some morphine. I don’t want him conscious until he’s in the hospital.”
They place him on the stretcher that’s been lowered inside. Aedon descends down on her rope while we carry him over to be brought up. What the hell? I told them to send Wren. I don’t want her risking her life to be here.
Her feet meet the ground and she comes running over. “Are you okay? Ander said you needed help.” Her hands run over my arms and chest, checking for injuries.
“I told him to send Wren,” I bark.
“Wren had to go do surgery in the field too. Ander sent several of our doctors over to help in the MASH unit.”
“There is a boy trapped in the car. He’s crushed from the waist down. I’m not sure I can save him. I chose to save the one that had a better chance.” The words hurt coming out of my mouth. Having to choose one kid over the other is not a decision anyone should have to make. I grab my medical bag off the ground and move it closer to the car.
“You’re limping. Are you okay?”
“I’m a hell of a lot better than these kids,” I say, as I crawl into the small space of the back seat. Aedon runs over to the other side of the car. “Scott, are you still with me, son?” His pulse taps against his skin even weaker than before. His lips are a blueish grey. I lift his shirt to get another look as Aedon examines him. She looks at me and shakes her head.
“Don’t. Don’t even fucking go there! We have to get him out of here alive. Can you get an IV in him?”
“I can, but…”
“Don’t even say it, just do it,” I bark.
Scott’s eyes open and they cut in my direction. “Did he make it?” he asks with little strength.
“Alex is going to be okay. He’s on his way to the hospital. I need you to hang on. That pretty little doctor there is Aedon.” I point in her direction. “She’s going to start an IV to give you some fluids. I can’t give you any pain medications, so you’re going to have to be really tough for me. Do you think you can handle that?”
