First, thank you every one for all the wonderful reviews you gave of Smoke Eater. I can't tell you how much you all made me smile.

Second, a little background on this story. I am a new EMT in Baltimore County, MD. The events in this story are based off of the first code I ran. The names have all been changed and details are left out for obvious reasons but the story is true. I wrote this after I got off shift the same night that it happened so if it is choppy or doesn't flow well, that's why. Also, be warned, this is not a happy story.

Thanks for reading.

Silent Night

Silent night, holy night,
all is calm, all is bright

Engine 412 had arrived first. The lights of their rig flashed against the white siding of the split level. It was a disturbing clash with the white of the Christmas lights. Roy pulled in next to them, cutting the squads own lights. He didn't want to add to the garish display, though he knew it was a silly thought.

They had gotten there five minutes after the call came in. The Engine was ten minutes quicker than the squad. By the time that Roy and Johnny had arrived, twenty minutes had passed.

The set of Johnny's face said it all when he hopped out of his seat. Wordlessly, he grabbed the equipment that they would need, handing some to Roy. Roy took what he could carry and hurried in, Johnny on his heels. The Engineer from 412 was already there holding open the door, ready to lead them to their victim.

Twenty-two minutes since the call, and they were by her side.

Round yon virgin
mother and child.

The house was tidy, everything in its place. The walls displayed, proudly, the growth of two boys. You could see each achievement documented with a photograph and orderly placed on every wall in the living room, except one. The wall above the fireplace was special. It held the wedding photos; it displayed the love story of a beautiful bride and her handsome husband. The Paramedics barely noticed as they followed their guide to the back bedroom.

The scene was chaos, but the orderly chaos that comes with this type of call. Already the linemen were working on the woman. One at her head breathing for her. One at her chest pumping her heart with all his might. Two stood at the door, taking the equipment from the paramedics. The police stood as a buffer between the fireman and the family. The paramedics barely noticed their presence, they were already narrowing in on the reason they were there.

A woman, forty-two, lay on her back where she had fallen. Her husband, a fellow paramedic who Roy and Johnny both recognized, had witnessed her arrest. He had brought her home from the hospital, had carried her inside to their bedroom because she had been too weak to walk. She had told him that she didn't feel right just moments before she had the seizure that caused her to fall from the bed onto the floor. Her husband had begun compressions the moment he lost her pulse. His sons had called 911 the second he had ordered them too. They had done everything right.

But a mother of two still lay on the floor, her heart not beating.

For an instant, Johnny caught Roy's eye and the two had one of their intuitive conversations. The woman was grey. Her lips and eyelids were blue. Her breaths were agonal.

"Her name's Shannon, we've been married twenty-five years…right out of high school," came Steven's voice as he answered the police officer's questions and interrupted the paramedic's conversation.

Roy was on the phone with Rampart as Johnny pulled drugs and supplies from the med kit. 412's Captain was already setting up the leads for them, under the instructions of Johnny. Roy relayed the instructions to Johnny, and he followed them. The Engine crew did exactly as the paramedics told them. The Captain, no longer needed as an extra pair of hands, went and stood by Steven and his sons. The old fireman said nothing, could say nothing, he simply stood next to them in silent solidarity as they watched the chaos surrounding their loved one.

Thirty minutes total had passed since the call first came in.

Holy infant, so tender and mild,

"Clear, analyzing rhythm…. V-Tach, prepare to shock…."

"Rampart orders 400 joules…."

"Clear, shocking…"

The defibrillator hummed and buzzed as it powered up. Roy counted off the joules for Johnny. Johnny hovered at the ready, until he heard the signal. He then called clear and pressed the paddles to the women's chest. He unleashed the electricity into her body, causing her entire being to jolt and shake and he held his breath, eyes glued to the monitor.

"Still in V-Tach, Rampart…. Hit it again," Roy ordered, and Johnny followed.

Sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

Time slowed for the family. They stood in silence as they watched Shannon's body shake with each jolt. They said nothing at the sounds of her bones snapping, but Roy saw the boys flinch. He saw the look in Steven's face and Roy knew that his fellow paramedic understood; what they were doing, why they still fought, wasn't for Shannon. It was for him. And there was pain in his expression, guilt in his eyes, because Roy also understood that Steven didn't want them to stop. Roy understood because if it was JoAnne, he wouldn't want them to stop either.

So, time sped up for the crew as they raced the reaper. They were painfully aware of how long they had been on scene and they knew that they needed to move. Yet, at the same time, they knew they needed to take longer, to make sure… She wasn't stable enough for the transport yet.

Johnny administered another push of epi. Rampart hadn't given the order for it yet, but no one said anything. Roy simply relayed to Rampart what his partner had already done and Brackett simply copied. They were rewriting protocols, but damnit, this was one of their own. The reaper was threatening one of their own and if he couldn't save one of his, then whom could he save?

Forty minutes now.

Silent night, holy night,
shepherds quake at the sight;

At some point a neighbor had come in to be with the boys. They had heard her coming over. She had gone to them and was holding them both in her arms, their heads buried in her shoulders. They could hear the oldest crying. The younger one was still in denial.

"She's pacing!" Roy called and Johnny looked up. He looked away from the women to the monitor and confirmed what his partner had told him.

"We got to go now. Is the ambulance here?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah. Boys, let's get her loaded," 412's Captain ordered his men.

"Cap, can one of your guys bring in our Squad?" Roy asked, and received a confirmation.

Fifty minutes, and they were on their way to Rampart.

Glories stream from heaven afar,
heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!

The ride to Rampart was a blur. They had lost her again in route. Johnny had begun compressions while Roy maintained her airway. At some point, she had begun regurgitating blood. Each time Roy filled her lungs with air, bloody foam would follow. He had suctioned the airway numerous times, but it did little good.

Johnny kept pumping. He felt her ribs grinding with every push. He ignored it. He heard the alarms of the monitor. He knew there was no pulse. But he kept going. He didn't bother keeping track of time anymore, for he knew it was too late. But there was still the chance for a miracle.

Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!

They were greeted at Rampart by a full team. Morton was there to take over compressions from an exhausted John. Dixie was there to take over suction while another nurse took over breathing. Bracket was already asking questions of Roy who was answering as best he could while Johnny helped the team switch over to their monitor and establish an IO line.

Steven watched silently from the door. His face was blank, his eyes devoid of light.

Sixty minutes had passed.

Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love's pure light;

Roy and Johnny stood on either side of Steven. The three were silent as they watched the doctors and nurses in their well-choreographed dance with death. It was a practiced routine but the steps were performed with all the passion and fear as if it were brand new.

They tried more epi; two more doses. Nothing. They tried dopamine and there was no conversion. They tried more shocks… but there was nothing.

Radiant beams from thy holy face
with the dawn of redeeming grace,

Steven stared at his wife's face. Her eyes were still open. They were dilated and fixed, and staring straight at him. There was no light in them, no sign of a miracle, and he couldn't watch any longer. He left the room. He knew, had known all a long, there was nothing left to save.

The paramedics watched as the hospital crew surrendered. Heads bowed, they refused to watch as the monitor was turned off. They flinched at the sudden silencing of the high-pitched alarm.

Dixie covered the woman tenderly, with all the care of a mother tucking in her infant child. Brackett documented the time of death and Morton sighed heavily. Sadness and bitter defeat filled the room until it threatened to suffocate all inside.

Jesus, Lord, at thy birth,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

Roy and Johnny had made their escape into the night. They stood outside, both of them taking a long moment to gather themselves and to breathe. The air held a chill, a bite, to it that they normally didn't feel. Inside the hospital came the hour chimes, signaling the passing of time.

"Merry Christmas, Roy," Johnny said softly to his partner, his eyes staring at the night sky.

"Merry Christmas Junior," Roy answered, his voice hoarse. He too looked up into the night sky, searching for the same answer that Johnny was.

Silent night, holy night,
wondrous star, lend thy light;

"Squad 51, what is your status?"

Johnny sighed, exhausted and defeated. Could they not even find a moment's peace?

With the angels let us sing,
Alleluia to our King;

"Squad 51, clear. Currently at Rampart," Roy answered into the HT.

"Squad 51. 86 year old women bleeding from the mouth at…."

And then they were off again to race the reaper.

Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!