Samantha flipped through the files sitting in front of her with bored fascination, scanning what each of them was about. She glanced up from the files and searched the ER surrounding her. It was oddly quiet today. A small child who stepped on glass was shrieking in a corner, sobbing into his mother's shirt already covered with his tears. Her eyes darted to the other side of the room as she watched some doctors coolly chatting, having no interest in helping with what the poor nurse was pulling out of the child's feet. The phone rang and Samantha jumped out her deep thoughts to stare at the phone. Another nurse next to her answered it and Samantha went back into her deep thoughts, watching the distressed nurse try to keep the child still.
She suddenly had a deep bad feeling in her gut. A very bad one.
"Shit," she whispered to herself, knowing that this was the calm before the storm. Something had to happen soon. Something always did.
The world seemed to answer her thoughts as Code Yellow rang out over the speakers and a sudden rush of doctors and nurses flooded into the room. She pulled herself from the hard chair below her to join the group of nurses nervously hovering by.
"Do you know what happened?" She asked a woman standing by, starting to hear the chorus of sirens approaching the hospital.
"Twenty car pileup. I guess it's not too bad except for a couple people have it really bad. Four or so are going straight to the OR," she spoke nervously as her eyes darted between the door and the crowd of doctors in yellow gowns pulled over their white coats starting to file outside.
Suddenly the chaos was here; leaving little time for Samantha to prepare for the horror that came flooding threw the slow doors.
The first stretcher came in, holding a girl who was completely out. Her blond hair matted at the back of her head and a few cuts decorated her face. She didn't look too bad until your eyes drifted below her breasts. Her skinny torso was drenched in blood soaking her clothes in a bright ruby. The doctors that were carrying her had looks of calm panic flash on their faces. Barking out orders, a doctor jabbed his fingers around the ER gracefully dancing along with the stretcher as it pushed through the slow, heavy doors that lead to the operating rooms.
Following the bloodied girl were a group of teenagers, leaning against each other, their faces deathly white. They found a nurse right away, asking with panic in their voice about their friend. As they disappeared around the corner, the next group of victims staggered into the hospital. Following them came the next stretcher holding a tall and silent man. His wide eyes drifted around the room in shock. He was clear of much injury on the outside, but with her nursing experience Samantha knew that the situation underneath the thick, bloody gray blanket over his waist and legs couldn't be good. Shortly after he passed through came the third victim on a stretcher. Her mouth slightly open the woman moved her head side to side in agony. Her whole body was covered in blood, short yet deep gashes danced across her body. She watched as a nurse gently told her that it was going to be okay, letting the nurse run her fingers through the clumpy brown and red stained hair. She trailed where all the other dazed victims were carried through, leaving a trail of thick crimson blood.
Samantha watched as she thought that the worst of it was over. People with blood trickling down their legs limped into the arms of nurses, sobbing at the pain and wondering where their friends were. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Stepping from the place she had been glued to, she quickly tumbled back at the sight of a doctor telling her to get out of the way. Confused, she moved backwards and stared in silence as a mob of panicked nurses rushed for medical supplies.
She caught the end of what one doctor was telling the others in preparation for the final victim that got it the worst.
"Male, 25 years of age. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Cut through hairline to the bone, another cut from…" The doctor's voice trailed off at the deafening blanket of horrible silence that fell across the room.
Along with the rest of the emergency room, Samantha watched as doctors screaming at each other carried a tall man into the room. The brace supporting his neck was dripping in the blood streaming from a massive cut on his forehead. A nurse already ripping off his shirt to the best of her abilities silently shook at her first sights of the gash running from his waist up in a winding red river to his chest. Gushing a stream of blood across his body, the cut ran deep into his chest and stomach causing Samantha's own stomach to clench. The man's tender flesh ripped farther apart every second he spent in the horrified room. He was swiftly carried to the doors of the OR leaving another trail of blood on top of the one the other victims had left earlier.
"Dammit!" A tall doctor yelled after searching the chart in front of him, spending no effort in trying to conceal his anger. After a moment of thinking that was so short Samantha could barely tell what he was doing before he acted again. He motioned the swarm of about 20 doctors and nurses and the bloodied man to a corner where they put him on a bed and began working on him, roaring out orders to the poor shaking nurses.
Not a moment later a woman sobbing and screaming stumbled into the room. Finding no one to help her, she quickly turned to Samantha.
"Where's Ned?" She choked out. Her face white with horror and chunks of ruby streaked her reddish hair.
"Who are you looking for?" Samantha asked the woman firmly.
"My fiancé. six foot threeish," She held up her hand in a sheepish motion to indicate his height. "He came here…" Her voice stopped at seeing who Samantha guessed was Ned bleeding in the corner.
Samantha wrapped her arms around the woman to hold her back from what she was going to do. Her loud sobs flowed onto Samantha's navy scrubs and yells for her fiancé deafened the whole room. Letting her finally sink to the floor in shaky cries, the poor nurse held the woman close. After seeing that the bloody mess in the corner lacked a patient, Samantha gently pushed the woman onto a hospital bed and pulled the curtain around them.
"What is your name?" Samantha gently pushed out of the woman, who was running out of tears.
"Nancy Drew," she whispered simply. "How is he?" She looked up from her hands, getting to the point.
"Are you hurt at all?" Samantha ignored her.
"No. How is Ned?" Nancy pushed back.
Samantha sighed. If there was one thing she wouldn't do would be to keep information from a patient.
"If you let me examine you, I'll see how your fiancé is doing. Okay?"
Nancy nodded, wrapping her arms around herself to stop the violent shaking of her body.
Samantha examined every inch of her, but nothing more than a scratch. She furrowed her eyebrows in frustration as the woman asked her again on how her friend was.
Quietly stepping out of the cocoon in which Samantha had wrapped herself and the panicked woman in she bowed down to the demands of her patient and walked over to the corner of clutter that held the files of OR patients. Scanning the names, a file with the first name Ned and injuries describing the same as the bloodied man caught her eye and she took it back to the curtained area which held the distressed woman.
She sat down next to Nancy and scanned the chart.
"Ned Nickerson, 25 years old, born October 4th, 1986, 6'3, around 170, 180 pounds. Not allergic to anything. No previous major injuries. Parents live in River Heights, Illinois. James and Edith Nickerson," Nancy breathed out.
Samantha lifted an eyebrow at the woman and she responded with a hollow smile.
"I'm an FBI consultant with Chicago PD. I'm used to it."
"And you are?" Samantha gently encouraged.
"Nancy Drew. 24 years old, born May 26th, 1987. 5'9, 130 pounds or so. Also not allergic to anything. Been in the hospital for so many things I can't count them all. My father, Carson Drew, also lives in River Heights."
"And you two are…"
"Engaged? Yeah," Nancy finished, twisting the blood tinted diamond around her finger. Another choked up cry came out of the woman but she pushed it down. "What are his injuries?" She spoke just above a whisper.
Samantha looked at the woman. Any trace of color in her face was nonexistent just leaving dark smudges underneath her eyes. She had pulled her bloody hair into a ponytail but failed in doing so, large strands stringing in front of her face. Her tight shirt drenched in drying blood, jeans stained from the constant stream of tears falling from her wide, glowing blue eyes. A look of sadness and terror glazed over her face.
"You sure-"
"Please. Just… just tell me," Nancy interrupted her with a certain tone of anger in her voice.
Samantha took another look at the desperate woman then back at the chart in her hands.
"A deep cut down to the skull on his forehead and another deeper cut from his upper waist to his chest. He- He lost a lot of blood on the scene," The nurse began to sadly and slowly choke out.
"His brain is swollen but it's not that bad. His…" Samantha began but couldn't continue after reading what the deep gash in his chest had produced.
She looked at Nancy. With another shaky sigh, she continued after seeing the desperate and pleading look in the young woman's eyes.
Samantha coughed.
"The tear from your fiancé's waist to his chest caused him to lose a lot of blood. It missed most of his vital organs but ripped open his stomach and clipped his heart," she paused and coughed before continuing. "The operating rooms were full when he arrived so his chances," she coughed again. "Of-of surviving aren't that high. He's in surgery now and they should know in a few hours if he'll make it. If he does, he'll be in surgery through the night."
The whimpers coming from the woman escalated back into sobs.
Samantha sat behind the wide desk she sat at before hell entered though the doors. Absently peeling off the last of what used to be her long thumb nail her eyes shifted upwards. She watched a bored janitor clean off the last of the trails of blood that had pooled in lakes on the floor. The emergency room was quiet; most of the victims of the wreck being shooed out by doctors who thought their injuries weren't enough to deal with or discharged just to clear out of the hospital.
She let her eyes trail over to the waiting area where two groups of mourners sat. Two of the four victims rushed to the OR had come out of surgery without many complications. The one man with the bloody blanket that covered his legs was going to be fine, although he lost both of his legs. The older woman who came for him didn't seem to care, thanking God that was all he lost. The brown haired woman with deep gashes all across her body survived too, getting all stitched up as soon as she arrived. The other blond teenager with the huge cut across her stomach wasn't so lucky. She lost so much blood and the cut sliced through much of her abdomen and the doctors were thinking she wasn't going to make it. An older couple sat silently weeping in the corner as a handsome older doctor told them gently what was going to happen. A few teenagers sat next to them with pale faces, offering as much comfort as they could muster up.
The only other occupants of the wide, bright room were the young fiancé and the family that surrounded her. An older man with graying hair and bright brown eyes kept near her at all times, always either having an arm around her or holding her hand. Every ten minutes or so Nancy turned and cried on who Samantha assumed was her father's shoulder. A woman on her other side tightly held Nancy's hand to the point of where Samantha from where she sat could see the white knuckles of the older woman. She stared straight ahead, not letting a tear fall down her face. Her grayish brown hair pulled tightly back, she looked frozen, afraid that if she moved an inch the worst would happen to what Samantha again guessed as her injured son. Another man about Nancy's father's age sat on the older woman's other side holding to her tight and once letting a single tear fall down his cheek. Two girls about Nancy's age sat at her feet. A short, plump girl with tumbling blond curls let her head dip as she tightly held onto the other girl's hand. The other young woman had her short, crisp brown hair twirled into snarls as she gazed outside the foggy window with fascination. All together they huddled letting their tears fall to the floor. Every time the OR door opened they jumped in unison only to fall down again in sobs as doctors silently shook their heads indicating that they had no news for the family.
She watched as another doctor stepped through the heavy doors. The family all whipped their heads around and with a strong look in reply from the doctor, they all stood up. Not breaking from their tight circle that held each of them from melting into insanity they watched with pleading eyes as the surgeon told them what was going on a few rooms away. Samantha pulled herself from her chair and to the other side of the desk so she could listen to the fate of the young man.
"Mr. and Mrs. Nickerson, Miss Drew, Mr. Drew, Miss Marvin, Miss Fayne," the young doctor began, motioning to each of the individuals surrounding her. She sighed before continuing.
"Ned got the worst damage of the wreck. The major damage is above his waist, a long cut across his torso and other on his upper forehead. He was lucky with the injury on his head. We've reduced much of the swelling in his brain and stitched the cut, so that's not what we're worried about. What we're worried about is the cut up his torso. He has lost a lot of blood and if he doesn't stop bleeding soon he could go into cardiac arrest. The cut hit just the side of his heart and so far his heart hasn't responded too badly but like I said before, if he doesn't stop bleeding it could turn bad soon. His stomach was also cut open but we were able to fix that up as well. So far he's a pretty lucky guy, but if we can't stop the bleeding soon..." She trailed off letting the distressed family think in horror for themselves on what she was going to say.
"We should know within the next couple of hours." The doctor mumbled before the flashed an apologetic smile before making her way back through the doors.
Samantha walked back to her seat and buried her head in her hands.
"Aww, fuck." Samantha whispered to herself. She knew that look.
She stayed in the same bony seat through the night and morning, refusing to go home until she found out the fate of the man six tired people were also waiting to find out. The teenage girl had died shortly after one in the morning. When the doctor had told her family and friends that she wasn't going to make it the group silently said their thank you's and stalked out of the hospital, saving their cries until they safely reached the damp ground outside the doors. Now it was just her, a few paranoid nurses, the doctors that nervously pushed from the ER to the OR every ten minutes or so, and the last victim's family. The somber group of six hadn't moved an inch since the last piece of information they had received three hours ago. They sat in silence, their cries not reaching more than whimpers.
Samantha sighed and looked down at her fidgeting hands after seeing another surgeon step out of the deathly halls of the operating rooms. A grave and timid look on his face revealed it all as he stepped towards the family. Once again they all rose holding on to each other with hopeless passion. Samantha watched as the doctor sighed and opened his mouth to speak. She had helped in that situation, stood next to that situation, heard of that situation, been in that situation enough times to know what they were saying without a peep reaching her ears.
Mr. Nickerson has lost a lot of blood. And we're so sorry...
No.
The cut down his chest has caused so much extensive damage that there is no way...
No.
We're truly sorry, we've done the best we could.
No!
My deepest condolences.
No! No! No!
The young man's fiancé broke down in heavy sobs pushing away the loved ones that tried to comfort her, looks of terror stricken across their faces. Samantha refused to watch the situation going down. Burring herself in the work that surrounded her, she tried to prevent the impending tears from falling down her cheeks. She glanced up despite her best efforts to not and watched as the group fell to the floor in rivers of tears. The doctor watched them himself with a face that much expressed what Samantha knew what were his feelings. Spending a little less than nine hours on the last victim of a appalling car wreck for it all to end in the scene before them was pure hell.
All at once another doctor in a bloody yellow cover up came bounding out of the fat doors calling for the doctor standing in front of the depressed circle. He had a quirked smile on his face as he motioned for the doctor in a panic.
"There's a pulse."
Title based off of the look of Ned's cut up his chest, the rate at which Nancy cried, and the feel of the story. Rivers always seem peaceful yet mighty to me and I think of the flow of this story as the eye of a hurricane. Peace amidst chaos.
Story created from my love (I'm horrible) of victimizing loved people and seeing how the people in his/her life react.
Thanks for reading!