Standard Disclaimer: All the characters of Emergency! Belong to Mark VII and Universal Studios. Reference to Loren Eisley's The Starfish Thrower used without permission.
Saving Them One At A Time
Chapter 1
She sat motionless, staring out the window as the old Greyhound bus lumbered west on I-10. Clutching her beige macrame purse that held the key to her new life, she watched as one town melted into the next. She closed her eyes as she leaned her head back on the headrest and began to replay yesterday's events in her mind. Was she trying to convince herself she had done the right thing? Perhaps. Was she trying to justify her actions? Absolutely. The back of her throat tingled as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She clinched her teeth together flexing her jaw muscles until they ached. She would not cry. SHE was in control now. She heaved a heavy sigh as she felt the unshed tears retract to their former hiding place. With the last rays of sunlight slipping behind the black silhouette of the distant tree line, she officially said good-bye to her past life. No more live oak trees draped in Spanish moss. No more sultry humid summer nights sprinkled with twinkling fire flies. No more hurricanes churning up the Gulf waters and slamming angrily into sleepy towns. No more storm surge forcing itself upon helpless victims – stealing so many souls as it violated the coastline. No more anxious nights spent dreading the sound of a single ice cube being swirled around in the bottom of a glass of amber liquid. And no more Magnolia.
E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!
All of Station 51 awoke and bolted out of bed at the sound of the klaxon. Jumping into their turnout gear, they hustled out of the dorm toward the apparatus bay.
Station 51, traffic accident with injuries at the intersection of West Carson St. and Moneta Ave. That's West Carson St. and Moneta Avenue. Time out 05:45.
"KMG365" Hank acknowledged then handed the slip of paper to Roy who passed it over to Johnny as the bay doors rose. Traffic was light so the squad and engine had no problem exiting the station making a wide sweeping right turn. With sirens blaring and lights flashing, the two emergency vehicles arrived on scene within minutes. "L.A. 51 at scene," Hank spoke calmly into the microphone.
"10-4 51"
The paramedic duo tightened their chin-straps as they got out of the squad. The scene that lay before them was one of twisted metal and broken glass. Clearly, the white sedan had run through theintersection, crossing the turn lane before crashing into the green station wagon. The smell of gasoline tweaked his nose as Captain Stanley began shouting orders.
"Marco, Chet grab an inch and a half and start washing down this asphalt before we get a spark somewhere."
"On it, Cap", remarked Chet as he and Marco grabbed the hose and headed toward the back of the sedan.
Roy buttoned up his turnout coat and rounded the corner to grab their gear while John jogged on over to quickly assess the carnage.
"Hey Roy, gonna need the trauma box. Looks like a broken left wrist on this one." He hurried on over to the station wagon but found it empty. Looking up, he saw a parking meter and quickly deduced that the station wagon had been unoccupied at impact. Someone's lucky day, he thought to himself then turned to offer his partner a hand.
Roy already had the door open and was trying to take the victim's vital signs when John got back to the sedan.
"Mister, you've been in a car accident. Can you tell me where it hurts?" asked Roy.
"I ain't hurt nowhere," came the slurred response.
"uh-boy" mumbled Gage to himself. A drunk driver at 5:45 in the morning meant he'd been out drinking all night.
"Well, sometimes when you're in an accident like this you really don't realize you're injured right away. My partner here's gonna call the hospital and see if the doctor would like to take a look at you." Roy's patience with intoxicated folks was somewhat limited. In his line of work he often saw the results of drinking and driving….the drunks seemed to come out on top most of the time.
"Rampart this is squad 51. How do you read?" John's question was quickly answered by Dr. Kelly Brackett.
"Go ahead 51. We read you loud and clear."
"Rampart we have a male approximately 50 years old. He's been in a traffic accident and appears to have a broken left wrist. Vitals are BP 150/84, pulse 76 and respirations 16. His speech is somewhat slurred and there's a distinct smell of alcohol on him. He has no complaint of pain."
Kel couldn't help but snicker to himself at Gage's last comment. "I'm sure he doesn't, Johnny. Go ahead and splint the wrist then start an IV D5W TKO in the opposite arm. Transport when you can."
Frank, the police officer on duty merely shook his head as the ambulance arrived on the scene. He'd been to more of these things than he could remember and he'd only been on the force 8 months. "Why do these guys do this to themselves?" he asked of no one in particular.
"Well, at least this one didn't hurt anybody else" came Captain Stanley's answer.
"I'll ride in with him, Junior. You take the squad"
Gage certainly didn't argue with Roy about it. He'd ridden with too many drunks in the back of ambulances while being puked on and cursed at. He stowed away their gear; picked up his partner's helmet; and headed back to the squad. The sound of the ambulance siren began as John picked up the microphone.
"Squad 51 en route to Rampart on follow-up"
"10-4 Squad 51"
E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!
She retrieved the key from her purse while balancing a bag of groceries on her left hip. She'd been in L.A. for 4 months now and money was getting tight. The only steady job she had found was as a waitress in a seedy dive near her apartment. Her rent and utilities took every dime she made. That left her still using the old credit cards for other necessities. She knew that luxury wouldn't last much longer since she wasn't making payments. What would happen then? She managed to unlock the door without dropping her precious cargo and entered the darkened apartment. She knew she needed to lighten up the décor but with no money, how could she?
Dang, Sis, why'd you want to keep it so dark in here?
She thought to herself. She missed her sister more than she ever dreamed she would. Her death had been sudden and unexpected. Aneurysm was what the doctor had said? She had only returned to Mississippi for a brief visit when the head ache started. By the time she decided to go to the hospital, it was too late. She never made it through the doors. Instead, she collapsed in the parking lot. Efforts to resuscitate her had failed leaving the younger of the two alone to tell their uncle about her sister's death. That's when her plan had truly been devised. But she refused to linger in her memory and instead set down the bag of groceries and began putting them away in the cabinets and refrigerator. A sudden knock at the door made her catch her breath.
Who could that be?
Since the day she'd moved in there hadn't been anyone who even dropped by to say hi. Not that she wanted them to but…..a second knock, louder this time, resonated in the apartment and she moved around the bar stool to answer the door.
Looking through the peep hole first, she saw an older gentleman standing outside her door. He was maybe 35 or 40 with dark hair graying at the temples. He looked familiar but she really couldn't place him. He certainly didn't look dangerous but then again, who could she trust out here? Who could she trust anywhere for that matter?
"Sarah-Beth, open up, sweetie, it's Jess," said the voice on the other side of the door.
What the….
Her mind was racing in a thousand directions. Who was he and how did he know her sister? What should she do? Open the door and say "sorry but she's dead?" She could feel her heart banging around inside her chest and her breathing became more rapid. She tried to say something, anything, but her voice came out more airy than audible. She tightened her lips and cleared her throat before walking to the door. Then with a very shaky hand, she unlocked the bolt and slowly opened the door.
E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!
"So how's Jim doing?" asked John as he walked up behind Roy at the nurses station.
Turning around, Roy didn't have a clue who his partner was talking about. "Who?"
"You know, Mr. Beam, the guy you just rode in with?"
Grinning Roy turned back around to face Dixie. "Junior here's a regular stand-up comedian".
Dixie smiled at her two favorite paramedics. "Well, you have to admit, Roy… that was better than some of his other wisecracks".
"You know, you're right." Thanks for the supplies. See you around, Dix."
With the HT in his left hand and the box of supplies under his right arm, Roy turned to John. "Ready to roll?"
Johnny flashed his crooked grin at Dixie. Raising his hand to wave good-bye, he took a step backwards and spun around just in time to avert disaster. Kara, the new nurse in the Emergency Department at Rampart was walking quickly down the hallway carrying a trey of medications and not particularly looking where she was going. "Whoaa…" Johnny said while trying with all his might to avoid a collision with the young nurse. She "hrumphed" at him and continued on her way while Johnny seemed to be frozen in time.
"Watch it, Pal" remarked Roy while rolling his eyes at his junior partner. "I think she bites".
"Yea, what is it with that girl?" asked Johnny while his gaze watched Kara step onto the elevator and the door close. "She won't even look at me, let alone speak? I mean, Roy last shift I walked straight up to her and gave her a big smile and said – Welcome to Ramp…." Johnny spun around looking in all directions but Roy had already gone to the squad; once again, leaving him talking to himself in the lobby of the ER – with 2 nursing students snickering behind him.
E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!
The hallway was empty, absolutely empty. No sign of the man who only moments before stood knocking at her door. Was she losing her mind? Where did he go? She quickly shut the door and leaned against it panting. She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath until she felt the relief of the release. "Let it go," she whispered. "He's gone…..maybe he was never there. Your secret is still safe." She mumbled trying to convince herself. After taking a moment to regain her composure, she ran her hands through her long chestnut locks brushing them up and away from her face. Holding the strands in a long ponytail, she scrounged around a drawer until she found an olive green scrunchie to restrain them. She needed a long soaking bath to help wash away her fears and relax her aching muscles. She had worked a 12 hour night shift at the diner and hated having the scent of grease and cigarette smoke permeating her nostrils. But, she had to make money and right now she needed all the extra hours she could get.
She completed the task of putting up her groceries and made her way to the back of her apartment. She removed her smelly uniform placing it in her hamper before quickly stepping into her bathroom. She turned the squeeky knobs and listened to the sound of the running water. This was the only respite she could afford and her tired legs and feet yearned for the comfort a hot bath would bring. Satisfied that the water was the perfect temperature, she squeezed a small amount of shower gel into the running stream. She inhaled the sweet fragrance then slipped out of her bra and panties and eased herself down into the steaming pool. Leaning back against the cold porcelain she nearly yelped –it was a sharp contrast to the hot water filling the tub and lapping away the stress of the day. She reached to turn off the water before slipping down enough for the water to reach her shoulders; then closed her eyes breathing in the warmth of the steam and the faint berry scent of the bubbles. The slow methodical drip of the faucet lulled her so close to sleep that she didn't hear the click of the key in the lock or the creak of the door knob turning.
He found the apartment dark and heard the faint sounds of trickling water in the back. Oh, she was making this so simple. He slowly closed and locked the door – barring her only route of escape – then made his way down the hall to her bedroom.
The time passed quickly and the water was getting cold so she decided to get out of the tub. She was hungry but too tired to eat. Maybe just some sweet iced tea and then she'd go to bed. She dried herself and grabbed the robe from the back of the door. It had belonged to her sister and now each time she wrapped the fuzzy white material around her body it felt like her big sister was once again giving her a long hug. Somehow, it made her feel safe. She let the water drain out of the tub while she walked barefoot into her kichen and opened her refrigerator door. She removed a pitcher of sweet tea and poured herself a glass. The cold liquid soothed her dry throat as her thoughts drifted back to her grandmother's house in Biloxi. During her early childhood, she'd spent many long summer days playing in and around the old antebellum home. She especially enjoyed time spent in the long porch swing sipping sweet iced tea chatting with her grandmother who was moving methodically to and fro in her front porch rocking chair. Her grandmother was the one who had taught her how to make the sweet tea. That was in July of 1969 and she was 9 years old. There was no way either of them could have known the horror that the following month would bring to the Mississippi Coastline. The intrusive thought caught her off guard dragging her back to the present. She finished her tea and headed for her bedroom. Didn't she leave the door open? Oh who knew; maybe that guy just had her a little freaked out. She entered the room enveloped in complete darkness and made her way over to her bed. Reaching for the lamp, she felt a jolt as a very large hand clamped down on her mouth. His thumb pressed hard against the right side of her nose as her arms were restrained by his strong left arm and her body was crushed against the chest of a stranger.