So hopefully I'll be able to update my chapters a lot quicker than I have been lately. I wasn't sure if I should continue this story because the show is taking a different (and kinda wierd) take on the whole Owen/Cristina dealio but I have a story line that I'm really excited about so I'm gonna power through!! Thank you to every one for the amazing reviews, they make me super duper happy and encourage me to write more!! Keep reading and reviewing and enjoy yourselves!!
Cristina strode out from the elevator onto the surgical floor, head held high. She wouldn't let Dr. Hunt affect her work anymore. She would be confident, competitive, rational; professional. She glanced around the floor, trying to find a familiar face, but she found the area eerily quiet. Only a few scrub nurses and interns walked through the halls. Cristina stopped two of the nurses closest to her and asked what the situation was.
"Every one's down at trauma trying to steal the best patients." One of the nurses said with distain. She tried to continue, but the other interrupted her, pointing rudely at Cristina.
"What the hell is it with you surgeons? Do you people not have souls?" The nurse had a bigger nose and bad highlights. Cristina frowned at her questioningly. "Don't give me that look!"
"I have no idea-" Cristina was getting impatient. She had never gotten along with nurses; they were whiny, bitchy, and wasted a lot of her time
"There's a school shooting and all you people think about is who's going to get to help Dr. Hunt take a bullet out of a kid's left cerebella hemisphere. It's sick."
"There was a shooting?" The shock of the disaster made Cristina go numb. She demanded more information. "How many patients are there? Are they just bullet wounds or-"
The first nurse took control once again. "So far 18 people have been admitted and there are still ambulances arriving constantly."
"18!" That was a lot of patients for a high school shooting. "Isn't Mercy West taking any patients? We can't handle all of these patients at once! We don't have the man power."
"The patients needed immediate care and we're closer to the high school."
"They can't all need immediate care, that's crazy. A kid with a gun can't cause that much destruction."
"It wasn't just one kid." The first nurse, more timid than the other, looked uncomfortable as she relayed the events of the shooting. "There were six gunmen, each with two or three rifles on hand. They also had pipe bombs and home-made grenades." Both nurses' pagers beeped. "Another ambulance." She looked towards Cristina. "We've got to go."
Cristina followed after the nurses to the pit. "Wait, wait, wait." The nurses glanced over their shoulders at her, clearly uncomfortable that this crazy surgeon was following them. "Pipe bombs?! Grenades?!"
"Yes." Big-nose nurse said. "Pipe bombs and grenades. They were very unstable and, well, messy and now there are kids down there with half their bodies blown off, so if you wouldn't mind leaving us alone, we have work to do."
"Well yeah, I can see that." Nurses were stupid too. "I'm coming to help."
The second nurse scoffed. "Whatever."
By this time they had reached the pit and Cristina froze with shock and the nurses took their opportunity to slink away from her. "Oh my god…" Her voice trailed off. There were way more than 18 patients down here and they were all in serious condition. Blood was every where. There were kids barely past puberty screaming in pain as doctors tried to remove bullets and bits of debris from their abdomens and legs and arms and faces. Attendings were rushing from patient to patient trying in vain to help every one at once. Residents were stitching, cutting, and bandaging two or three patients at once and even interns were treating patients on their own without any supervision. Every one had their hands full and to make matters worse every single student was in complete shock and from the shooting. They were hysterical. Kids were screaming out for their mothers and trying to locate their friends; some were just sobbing and not even trying to form coherent sentences.
It was utter chaos, unlike anything Cristina had ever seen before. Sure there had been serious accidents and their surgical team had had to handle more patients than this at once, but this time it was different. Before, there had been some form of order, some one giving out directions, some one who was in charge. Now every one was on their own, even if you needed help, there was no one to give it. Every one was so busy that Cristina was free to stand frozen, surveying the disarray, for five minutes before she was noticed by Dr. Bailey.
"Yang!" Bailey bellowed from the doors of the hospital. "Either get in some scrubs or leave this trauma room! You're no help standing there dumb." Cristina was about to answer, explain what she was doing back at work when she had said she was sick, but Bailey turned before she could, too caught up in the incoming patients to care for a response.
Cristina went to get a surgical gown and threw it over her clothes. Shit. She had forgotten to change into scrubs. She was wearing a sweater and a pain of jeans. Oh well. She shrugged before finding her way through the sea of surgical beds, finding some patients who needed her help.