-Part 4-
"Wait and Bleed"
At the ER, Abby walks out of the lounge with a heavy coat on.
"Good luck on the ride-along," Susan says from the desk with a smile on her face.
"Thanks," Abby smiles, "I need all the luck I can get."
Susan chuckles as Abby walks out of the ambulance bay doors.
Outside, Gallant and Neela stand, shivering in the cold. They hear the doors slide open and turn their heads. Abby walks up to them, putting on a pair of winter gloves. "Workin' as a nurse tonight, huh?" Gallant asks.
"Yup," she answers, and puts her hands in the warm pockets of her coat.
Gallant hesitates. "It's strange seeing you as a med student, Abby."
She looks puzzled, "Why's that?"
"You're a great med student, don't get me wrong," he explains, "but, you're everybody's favorite nurse." He pauses. "You're the best nurse I've ever worked with. You still are. You're the best nurse on the floor."
Abby grins, flattered by his honesty; but, she also wonders if she did the right thing by going back to med school. In a way, she regrets it. Still, she is not quite sure what to do. "Thanks," she smiles, spotting the ambulance driving up.
It comes to a stop, and paramedics Pickman and Zadro stick their heads out of their windows. "You three ready?" Zadro shouts over the hum of the engine. They all nod and walk to the back of the ambulance. Gallant lifts the latch, opens the doors, and lets Neela and Abby get in. He climbs aboard and closes the doors; then, they drive out of the ambulance bay.
Inside, Neela wonders out loud, "You think we'll see anything interesting?"
At her apartment, Robin lays motionless. Blood covers her face, side, and the floor. Suddenly, her eyes begin to twitch underneath their lids. Her eyes open slowly. Blurriness. She blinks several times to clear her vision. It becomes normal again. She is so disoriented that she does not even realize she is on the floor—her head is a fog. The dizziness makes it hard to focus on anything around her. There's blood on her hand, and her blank eyes stare at it. She makes out what appears to be a telephone cord. She is terrified to move, but realizes this might be her only chance to save herself.
Robin manages to get up and balance herself on her hands and knees. She starts to move over to the phone—only a few feet away. With every inch, the pain intensifies. She gives in and lowers herself back to the floor. Tears fill her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She reaches out for the phone cord, about three feet away. Then, with the last bit of energy she has at this moment, she pushes herself closer with one hand. She grabs the cord and lets her arm hit the floor. The phone tumbles off of the end table—the exact one with the mangled gift wrappings laying strewn about—and the base of the phone lands on her hand. Her hand flinches and she holds her breath until the pain subsides.
Moments later, her rapid breathing returns. She reaches for the receiver slowly—in immense pain. She's unaware to her, DeSalvo still lurks in the apartment. The woman stands behind her; then, strikes her arm which is still reaching out for the phone. Feeling the severe pain shoot through her arm, Robin's teeth clench together and she lets out a muffled scream.
DeSalvo begins beating her sporadically on her legs and back. She focuses on her legs, thinking that she will chase after her. She does not want that to happen. She pummels her erratically with a black metal object, as she mumbles to herself—muffled by the weapon slicing through the air and the sound of the blows Robin receives with it. An insane look of anger and chilling lack of remorse remain constant throughout the crazed, hostile attack.
Vehemently, she delivers the last blow. She rises to her feet and tosses the weapon onto the floor, paying no attention to the loud sound it makes as it hits. She walks to the large window leading to the fire escape and opens it. She climbs out, lowers the glass back down, and disappears.
Robin lays on the floor, her body tense with pain—paralyzed with fear. Tears flow from her eyes as she lays on her stomach—her left arm under her. She moves her hand to the receiver after what seems like hours to her. She dials 911.
A man picks up on the other end. She mumbles incoherently. She has the sensation of losing all power, a terrifying seepage of strength. Her eyes become heavy. They flutter even after they close. She still continues to mumble in a broken stream of phrases and parts of words, not making any sense and barely able to discern. She can feel the darkness beckon to her from afar...but, yet, it's so close.
"Hello?" the man says. "Hello? Is anyone there? Is everything okay? Hello?"
(The man keeps shouting even as the sound fades into mute silence.)
Blood slowly seeps onto the floor as you seem to rise toward the ceiling, seeing Robin laying lifeless. Wounded. Helpless. The puddle slowly begins to form around her body. Her scrubs, stained a dark red.
Neela, Abby, and Gallant sit quietly in the back of the ambulance. They look quite bored, as the motion jostles them from side to side.
A voice comes over the ambulance radio:
"Any available unit, any available unit—report to the corner of 63rd and Ashland. No information was given by the caller, who is most likely unconscious..."
"Gallant, Neela," Pickman shouts as Zadro turns the siren on, "you two are gonna have to ride with us on this first call, we don't have time to go back to the station."
"That's fine," Gallant tells her.
Abby listens to the call for help. She notices the address; then, goes numb. Oh, my God. Please don't let it be her. Tell me it's not her. "C'mon, what's the apartment number? C'mon," she says to herself.
Gallant and Neela watch her, confused. They know something is horribly wrong.
"Abby," Neela asks sympathetically, "Abby, who lives there?"
Transfixed and staring straight ahead listening to the radio, she does not answer. She focuses on the report. "What's the apartment number?" she asks aloud once more.
"...apartment is on the fifth floor. Apartment number is unknown at this time..."
Abby sits silently, angered and disappointed. She closes her eyes, sighing. Oh, God. Please. Don't let it be her. Dammit, please. She means so much to us, please.
Neela asks again, "Abby, who's apartment do you think it is?"
She stays silent for a moment. "Robin," she fights back her tears, "it's Robin's."
Gallant and Neela become anxious—terrified. The siren begins to wail as Zadro races to the scene, after hearing Abby.
Pickman leans over and looks into the back, "Don't worry, we're only two blocks away. We'll be the first ones there."
"Maybe it's not her," Gallant shouts, "maybe it's one of her neighbors."
Abby says nothing; just sits there staring at the stretcher in front of her. She knows that it's Robin. She has never been this sure of anything in her life. All of the noises and the constant drone of the sirens suddenly disappear, as she imagines the worst.
Meanwhile, the phone has been off of the hook for so long that the monotonous "buzzing" tone now sounds. The lights in her apartment are no longer on. The red slowly pools around Robin on the floor---laying in the darkness.
As her friends race closer, Robin's life hangs by a thread.
She is not dead—this friend—not dead,
But in the path we mortals tread.
Got some few trifling steps ahead
And nearer to the end;
So that you, too, once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend
You fancy dead.
Robert Louis Stevenson (verses written in 1872)
-Part 5-
"Breathless"
The five friends burst through the front doors of the apartment building carrying equipment.
"The elevator never works, we'll have to take the stairs," Abby says, leading them to the flights of stairs at the far end of the lobby.
"Where do you think you're goin?" asks the night watchman, who sits in the center of the lobby.
"We got a call," Gallant yells at him harshly, "someone called 911 from the fifth floor of this building, and you are not gonna stop us from doing our job! Do you understand me?!"
The guard sits back down, letting them go without any more questions.
The five of them stay silent, reserved, as they ascend the stairs; partly because of Gallant's tone of voice in the lobby, the urgency and fear surprised them—he hardly ever raises his voice to anyone; the other reason being the looming situation itself.
Exhausted and out of breath, everyone reaches the top of the stairs at the fifth floor. Abby keeps going, turning to her left and proceeding down the hallway to Robin's apartment. The others watch her. Then, they split up into pairs of two and start knocking on apartment doors to locate where the call has come from.
I never crossed your threshold with a grief
But that I went without it; never came
Heart hungry but you fed me, eased the blame,
And gave the sorrow solace and relief.
Abby walks closer to the door. The atmosphere outside the apartment is heavy and cumbersome. She can barely breathe as she comes to a stop in front of the door. She closes her eyes and knocks quietly. She listens. She knocks again, "Robin, it's me. It-It's Abby."
She waits for her to answer. She never does. Silence. Abby's concern overwhelms her. She grows impatient and grabs the doorknob...it is unlocked. Her heart beats rapidly as she opens the door slowly. She opens it just enough so she can reach the light switch. She flips the switch. The lights stay unlit. She switches it on and off over and over again. No lights.
Abby knows something is desperately wrong. She opens the door a little wider. Numbness consumes her. Something catches her eye: blood splattered on the wall; the puddles that had formed on the floor where Robin had once rested; the smell of blood in the warm air that flows out of the apartment and into the hall. Abby pushes the door open with such force that it hits the wall—making the floor shake beneath her feet. She follows the trail of blood over to an enormous stain near the end table. The lights streaming through the window falls on the floor where Abby sees the stain.
She suddenly realizes who she is looking at. Every drop of blood in her body runs cold. Adrenaline rushes through her veins as she walks quickly over to Robin—left for dead and lying in wait. Abby falls to her knees and places her hands on her back—sticky with hot, slippery blood. "Oh, God," she says, almost whispering; a note of panic creeps into her voice. Abby feels her breathing, then checks for a pulse.
The others, still checking with the neighbors, hear Abby's cry for help. "I need some help in here! It's Robin!!" she chokes out.
They sprint down the hallway. Gallant enters and stops dead in his tracks, "Oh, my God." He runs over and kneels down on Robin's other side. Pickman, Neela, and Zadro run in. They rush over to her and kneel down—Zadro and Pickman focus their attention on Robin's fractured right leg, while Neela puts her hands on Robin's bloodied head to immobilize it. They all help to roll her onto her back. "Dear God," Neela says at the gruesomeness of it all. They all relate.
I never left you but I took away
The love that drew me to your side again
Through that door that never could remain
Quite closed between us for a little day
Zadro and Pickman have the backboard, ready to slide it under Robin's back. Zadro shakes his head, "We should've waited for the police to get here, we're not supposed to barge in like this. For all we know, whoever did this could still be here..."
"What? And let her bleed to death while we waited? I don't think so," Gallant says.
Abby looks behind her at the object that she had noticed when she first opened the door. "Neela," she asks nervously, "do you see that black thing over there?"
"Yeah," she answers after looking over the coffee table, "why?"
"Go see what it is," Abby tells her.
Focused on helping them with the backboard, she replies, "I can't, I'm—"
"I have to know," Abby interrupts her, raising her voice, "now go see what it is!"
Neela looks at her, then understands why Abby is yelling at her. She gets up and steps over the end of the table. Kneeling down, she examines it—making sure not to handle it too much in case there may be any evidence on it. "It looks like a crowbar," she says, "or a tire iron of some kind."
Holding back her tears in vain, Abby helps Gallant strap Robin's head to the board. Her hands shake as she puts the tape across her forehead—keeping her head still. Neela's words make everyone shudder. To think that someone would do something so grisly to her is too much to bear. They try their hardest to repress their feelings, for the time being, as they all take hold of the board and lift Robin up. Their knees soaked with blood from the carpet, where they have been kneeling beside her.
Carrying her out of the blackness that emanates from the apartment—now a tomb—no one utters a word. Abby looks over her shoulder at the puddles and streaks of red on the floor and the wall. They step out of the doorway into the hall. Abby, still dazed and shaken, stares at the open door as they walk down the hallway. Everything moves in slow-motion in her mind. She sees two police officers and three fire fighters emerge at the top of the stairs—they don't appear to be too happy, raising their voices at everyone and telling them that they should've waited for assistance. The officers continue on down the hall toward Robin's open apartment, shaking their heads, and the firemen assist in carrying her down the flights of stairs.
Abby then looks down at Robin's bloody face and scrubs. She is reminded of her own assault two years ago.
Robin's shift had ended and she was walking to the El, when an ambulance drove by. Morales, another paramedic, rolled down his window and yelled, "Dr. Shepherd," but she could not make out the rest of it. They were going too fast. They turned the corner and sped into the ambulance bay. A moment later, Robin's pager went off. The message appeared. Without hesitating, she took off down the sidewalk. Robin never slipped as she dashed through the ice and dirty snow piled in the ambulance bay. She looked like an Olympic marathon sprinter bursting through the doors to the ER. She made her way past the front desk, and Frank asked her something. She payed no attention and jogged past the trauma rooms.
Abby remembers seeing Robin run up to the door, putting a hand out to stop herself. She looked over through the large window in the door and just stood, out of breath. A blank stare was on her face. She put a hand on the door and pushed it open slowly. She walked up to her silently, as Susan made sure that her jaw wasn't broken. Susan then moved to the foot of the bed. Robin sat down next to Abby. Nothing was said. Abby felt safe—gentleness exuded from both of the women sitting near her. Robin never left the room that night, until Abby was able to leave. That was the night she realized she had two friends who actually cared. That was new to her.
Oh! Friend, who gave and comforted, who knew
So overwell the want of heart and mind,
Where may I turn for the solace now, or find
Relief from this unceasing loss of you?
Abby's eyes fill with tears. A hopeful grin appears on her face through all of the pain and grief. She keeps her eyes on her still.
Be it for fault, for folly, or for sin,
Oh! terrible my penance, and most sore
To face the tragedy of that closed door
Whereby I pass and may not enter in.
Theodosia Garrison – "The Closed Door"
-Part 6-
"If I Should Die Tonight"
At the ER, Susan, Luka, Pratt, Sam, and Jerry relax at the desk. As they chat amongst themselves, they suddenly hear a frantic voice over the radio:
"This is Michael Gallant to County General, somebody pick up, please!"
Luka rushes over and patches them through, "Gallant, it's Luka. What's wrong?"
"It's Robin, she's been attacked! Looks like whoever did this was tryin' to kill her!"
They hear Zadro shout from beside him:
"Hey! Dude, you can't say that over the radio, man!"
"I don't care! She would want 'em to know that it's her!"
Everyone stands and comes over, listening to the terrifying call. Luka asks with urgency, "How bad is she?"
"Really bad! She's in shock: BP is 91 over 54; pulse 159, weak and thready; resps shallow at 28!"
"What's your ETA?" Luka questions.
"About 5 minutes!"
"Alright," he says, "we'll be ready."
Everyone snaps into action, but their minds are a haze. They think about nothing as they gather supplies and put on their gloves and yellow gowns.
Then, they wait—their minds still racing. They appear calm, but inside they feel like they are bound by a straightjacket. The adrenaline flows between each of them as they stand silently in the ambulance bay—despite the bitter cold that cuts through them like a knife. They feel nothing on the outside.
The unexpected has stricken the heart of the ER once more. It is a time of desperation and lament that shakes the entire staff to their very core.
"Rob?" Abby says tearfully, "It's me, Abby. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"
Still mouthing random words incoherently in her altered state, she does not respond. Abby, who sits near her head, takes a penlight and lifts Robin's eyelids. "Pupils are dilated," she informs, shining the light into her eyes. She puts the penlight away and starts to bag her, giving her more oxygen.
Neela reaches over with a thermometer and puts it in her ear, "Temp's 96.9."
"Damn, put another blanket over her," Abby says. After the three of them put another blanket on top of her, silence falls in the vehicle.
Neela says down-heartedly, "I hope this is the worst of it."
Pickman nods in agreement, sitting in the captain's chair.
Zadro and Gallant appear to be almost sick as they sit in the front of the ambulance.
Abby leans forward, putting her hand on Robin's arm. "You've gotta fight," she tells her. She watches her slowly slipping away. Oh, God, please don't let her die. This isn't the end. She's gotta pull through this. Take me instead, please. She doesn't deserve this. God, she was fine a few hours ago. She's my best friend. Please. Don't end it like this. She means so much to us. Don't take her away from us. Don't. Save her.
They sit in silence as the ambulance speeds toward the hospital.
If I should die tonight,
My friends would look upon my quiet face,
Before they laid it in its resting place,
And dream that death had left it almost fair,
And laying snow-white flowers against my hair,
Would smooth it down with tearful tenderness,
And fold my hands with lingering caress—
Poor hands, so empty and so cold tonight!
If I should die tonight,
My friends would call to mind with loving thought
Some kindly deed the icy hand had wrought;
Some gentle word the frozen lips had said;
Errands on which the willing feet had sped.
The memory of my selfishness and pride,
My hast words, would all be put aside,
And so I should be loved and mourned tonight.
If I should die tonight,
Even hearts estranged would turn once more to me,
Recalling other days remorsefully.
The eyes that chill me with averted glance
Would look upon me as of yore, perchance
Would soften in the old familiar way;
For who would war with dumb, unconscious clay?
So I might rest, forgiven of all tonight.
O friends, I pray tonight
Keep not your kisses from my dead, cold brow;
The way is lonely, let me feel them now.
Think gently of me; I am travel worn;
My faltering feet are pierced with many a thorn.
Forgive, O hearts estranged, forgive, I plead!
When dreamless rest is mine I shall not need
The tenderness for which I long tonight.
Arabella Eugenia Smith – "If I Should Die Tonight"