Timeline: Bombs +60, 61
A/N: Tweaking timeline again. I know I've gotten away from Jonah again, but I'll be coming back to him as soon as I can. This part of the story cropped up and would not go back in its little box, so...here 'tis.
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April ran out of the house, oblivious to the cold and the hour. Mitch was there to drive the Greens to the clinic and Bailey's where a triage had been set up. Where hot coffee, tea, and food were available, the people would be more relaxed than before. She quizzed Mitch relentlessly on the way to the refugees, Johnston and Gail listening carefully.
Darcy and Allison were heading straight to the clinic to help move necessary equipment out of the basement at need. Darcy had been an excellent administrator and worked at both the Sheriff's Office as a coordinator and dispatcher and at the clinic as a general administrator. Allison, like Skylar and Lisa, had joined the Rangers, Junior Edition. While she was fascinated by and enjoyed the exercises, she was much more interested in her position in school: Medicine. She had a knack for it, and more than one person had noticed. Doc Hallowell was giving her a rough time, but April had assured her it was just the way the old codger was. Marcus, on the other hand, was glad to have a medic-in-training in his Rangers, even if she wouldn't be heading into anything dangerous for some time.
April tapped her foot on the floorboard, irritating Mitch to no end. Just as his nerves and temper were about to snap, they pulled up in front of Bailey's. Clutching her black bag, April darted inside without another word to the people in the car. Gail followed, leaving Johnston and Mitch to climb out of the car with considerably less alacrity. Johnston appreciated Gail's more svelte figure, but there were times he cursed her renewed energy with a certain air of affection. Johnston got out of the car, noting his own ease of movement now that he was eating better and exercising much more. Mitch, however, was moving slowly.
"That bad?" Johnston asked, nodding toward the stained glass and wood door.
"Huh?" Mitch looked over at the mayor, his attention suddenly diverted from his own, darker musings. "Oh, no. I mean, they're hungry, cold, and mostly sick with something, but it could be worse. A lot worse."
"Then what's the problem?" Johnston questioned, wondering what was happening to this young man who had been showing so much promise.
Mitch hesitated, then answered, "Emily's fiancée is back." He didn't need to elaborate.
Johnston nodded, his face registering the predicament. "If you need a place to stop by and talk, you know where I am most of the time."
"Thanks," Mitch said, his shiny new manners coming out despite his lack of desire to be polite to anyone. Wait. Was that the mayor just offering to listen to him bitch about Em and the fiancée? Twilight Zone, here I come.
The mayor looked at the building, half eager, half dreading what he would see when he entered.
"Wastin' time out here," he said, not really to Mitch. "Better get to it."
Mitch nodded, then said, "I've got a few other things to do. I'll be back here later, if I can."
"What's Jo got you doing?" Johnston asked, wondering how much more jumping in he could stand from Jonah, then admitting to himself that it was better than where the two of them had been heading - and, come to think of it, Jonah had been right more than wrong of late.
"Looking for places to stay, getting headcounts, seeing what the other towns in the network can handle, what we've got for them to do to work - the usual." As if this had occurred before.
Johnston chuckled and shook his head. "Man's gettin' to be a mind-reader. Better watch yourself if you play cards with him."
Mitch actually smiled. "Not me. Learned a long time ago to keep away from cards and the Boss."
"Smart man," Johnston gave him a wry look. "I owe the bastard a bottle of bourbon." The older man tapped the hood of the car and waved to Mitch as he walked to the door of Bailey's, the center of the town's attention.
Mitch laughed as he got back into the car and drove away. As he pulled away from the curb, he noticed Miss Maddie and Laureanna St. Xavier drive up. More accurately, Father Xavier was driving while the others, which seemed to include three other people, waited to disembark. It was indeed Miss Maddie and a group of those who had learned more than a bit about first aid and triage - two grand-nieces and a friend, Letitia Perkins.
Inside, everyone worked on separating out the cases of mild hypothermia and otherwise decent health from those in dire need of medical attention. One girl, Jessica, offered her to help April and Doc Hallowell, but was politely told she needed to get warm and better before she started back into her rotation.
April had moved to the next refugee, a stunningly attractive woman with skin the colour of light coffee and only slightly matted ebony hair. Dark brown eyes started into April's as she was asked the usual questions.
"What's your name?" It was the first question after the 'what hurts' set.
"Sarah," came the answer. Her voice was husky with disuse and a bit of congestion.
"What did you do before?" April asked, not needing to elaborate.
"I was a cop in St. Louis," the woman replied.
"Oh. Do you know anyone in Jericho?" It was unlikely, but you never knew.
"Actually," Sara said, drawing the word out, "yes. I do."
J*J*J*J*J*J
Finally, it was midmorning. April was tired, not quite warm, and her back was pure misery. She fumbled with the last chart of the day before she planned to shower and go back to Gail's to sleep for a week. Or until the next emergency.
"You," came a familiar and much-loved voice, "need to sleep. Got to take care of that baby." Gail's warm, exhausted smile took the sting out of her words. "I don't want my grandbaby born with a crick in its neck."
April laughed. She'd heard that line more than once, and she understood what Gail was saying. It was a pitiful attempt at humour, but the response was a sad excuse for laughter, too.
"All right, Mom. This is the last one. As soon as I get it to the next shift, I plan to go and sleep for a long, long time."
"Mm," Gail said, walking away, "and don't forget to eat!"
"I won't, Mom." With someone who loved her nearby, it was easier to let go of the strain of the long night. As it turned out, Jessica, the young medical student, had needed only heat, food, and sleep before she was ready to join the rotation at the clinic. It was a miracle, but April was thrilled.
As she walked away from the nurse's station to find Jessica, she felt her back cramping up from her neck to past her hips. Suddenly lightheaded, she put out a hand to catch herself.
A loud clatter made Gail turn back to the hall. If Mrs. Weatherby had decided she could walk again…
Smothering a cry of anguish, Gail saw April sprawled on the floor. On her stomach.
"Get Kenchy," she snarled, grabbing the first person who came within arms' reach. "I don't care if he's stumbling over his own feet - get him here. Now!"
Jake stared at his mother, then at April. He nodded, knowing it was better Kenchy than himself, and took off for Bailey's.
Kenchy was up early today, working on extending his drunk from the night before. Jake found him easily. All things considered, Kenchy was about the only truly predictable person left in Jericho.
Inside the hospital, Jessica started an IV drip and worked with Gail to get April as stable as possible. She wasn't optimistic. April came out of her faint long enough to give some basic instructions to Jessica and Gail, but she wasn't conscious long. While she recognized that she was in labour, she had little idea of how serious her condition would be.
Kenchy, irritated and upset at being dragged away from the barstool he'd just gotten warmed up properly, walked in under protest and Jake's watchful eye. After a few moments in the same room and seeing Gail hold up a bloody hand from about mid-bed, his training and experience returned.
Snapping out a series of instructions, he sent Jessica for a set of tools and to raid the pharmacy for anything that could be used to help. Darcy's foresight had put one of the three working ultrasounds into the ER section of the clinic - Rapid Care - and Gail had gone to retrieve it. Jake was handed a stethoscope and told how to keep track of the baby's heartbeat and how to differentiate the baby's heartbeat from April's.
Less than twenty minutes later, Kenchy threw down his gloves and stomped out of the room. Bloody stubborn women! There was no way to safely perform the surgery. The only hope was to have April miscarry and maybe, perhaps, on a slim-to-none kind of odds no Vegas bookmaker would ever accept, the woman could survive. Kenchy wasn't willing to watch another patient die on his table.
"What's the problem?" Laureanna St. Xavier asked, seeing Kenchy' s dramatic exit.
"A woman is in the middle of a miscarriage and will probably bleed to death before she's done with the miscarriage, I cannot operate under these conditions and in this facility, and even if I could, I don't have the tools necessary to do it! There's no electrocardiogram here - never has been! I couldn't do the surgery if I tried - they don't even teach how to complete an operation without one! And the rest of them-" He broke off there, seeing the calm look in her eyes. Gail had just stomped out of the room, determined to have it out with this drunk, followed closely by Jessica, who simply wondered what use Kenchy would be to anyone at any time.
"Repeat after me," Laureanna said, her eyes and oasis of composure settling the emotionally charged atmosphere. "Where there is life, there is hope."
"What?" Kenchy demanded, ready to continue his tirade.
"Say it." Dark eyes, almost black, bored into his. They were hypnotic. He began to understand the allure of hypnotism.
"Where there is life there is hope," Kenchy muttered, unable to believe he was caught up in this small-town bullshit that reminded him of some bloody philosophy class he'd never liked anyway.
"As tenuous as that life may be," Laureanna continued, "it sure as hell beats the alternative. Now, get back in there and do what you can. Gail, go get Doc Hallowell. He performed more difficult surgeries in worse conditions before any of you were a twinkle in your daddies' eyes. Shoo." She turned to Jessica. "Go to my office, next to Doc's. Get my midwife's kit." She ignored Kenchy's indelicate language. "Bring the entire thing here." Finally, she returned her attention to Kenchy. He squirmed under her gaze like a naughty schoolboy who'd been caught out on his homework. "Now, between your modern medicine, my experience with pregnancies, and Doc's time in Korea, I think the three of us can manage to salvage something out of this. Come on, let's see what we've got."
After listening to Kenchy's summation of modern medicine and Doc's experienced opinion, Laureanna shook her head.
"So it comes to this," she sighed. "Kenchy, you're right. We can't save the baby. Between us, I think Doc and I can save April, but you're going to have to perform a controlled miscarriage."
"A contro - an abortion?" Kenchy's eyes grew wide. "Now you're telling me I have to give this woman an abortion without her consent? No. I can't-"
"Her consent is irrelevant," Laureanna said, overriding Kenchy's sudden attack of conscience. "Her body's already rejected this child. Controlling the miscarriage will simply keep her from bleeding to death between now and then. You said this was a torn placenta?"
"Placenta previa, yes," Kenchy said, feeling himself swept up in Laureanna's wake. How had she become so certain?
"Without inducing labour again, which would cause her to bleed out, we can't save her," Doc said, gritting his teeth. "We'll have to go in, see exactly what we're dealing with, and be very, very careful on the way out."
Laureanna nodded. "I know how to stop the bleeding for now, and the labour, but I am not a surgeon." She held up hands gnarled from hard work and age. "Twenty years ago, perhaps, but not now."
Doc Hallowell snorted. "Same here. Kenchy, you'll have to be our hands. We," he pointed to Laureanna and himself, "don't have the steadiness or delicacy anymore. I can keep her going with some attendants, give 'em a crash course in the old ways, but otherwise?" he shook his head. "I'm sorry, son, but it's up to you."
Kenchy stared at the old man, then looked down at April. She was beautiful, a pale, delicate redhead. He'd dreamed of her, growing up and studying hard in his home village. He'd gotten to England for medical school, then - dream of dreams! - to the U.S. where he had been invited to join a practice with three noted surgeons in his chosen field, plastic surgery. More than one woman he'd seen would have killed for these delicate features, this beautiful profile. What's more, this one was more than just looks - she had a brain and was an excellent doctor, given her venue. And she had hair like fire - just like the women he'd dreamed of in Las Vegas. Before.
The reality was much more sobering than the winter cold.
"All right," he heard himself say, "I'll need someone else to keep track of her heartbeat," Jake had long since gone to his other duties, the clinic rotation being a short one for all deputies until the refugees were sorted and settled. "Gloves, better light…" The list rattled on and assistants jumped to provide for him.
By order of Laureanna and Doc Hallowell, Gail was sent to work with the youngest of the refugees, a few teenagers who'd escaped Michigan shortly after the blasts. Other than a mild case of radiation, hypothermia, and incipient pneumonia, there was little wrong with the kids. While she was grateful for the distraction, she was also enraged by it. But she had been a nurse in the Army, and so she would do her duty and nurse. She was not required to like it, dammit, and, being a stubborn woman, she didn't.
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Hours later, Laureanna, Doc, and Kenchy walked out of the room to find all of the Greens waiting to hear the news. Mary Bailey was there with Eric, not touching, but close enough she could be there if he needed her.
"She'll survive, but it will take her several days to gain enough strength to be moved," Kenchy said, then walked off. The harrowing hours were not ones he wanted to repeat anytime soon.
"And the baby?" Gail asked, hope in her eyes warring with unhappy knowledge.
Laureanna shook her head. "I'm sorry, honey," she said, her voice soft and tired. "The baby was too little, too unformed."
Gail turned to Johnston and he held out his arms to her. She leaned into him and wept on his shoulder, the exhausting hours and fear finally fraying her nerves into an unusual emotional display.
"She was lucky she wasn't more than ten weeks or so along," Doc Hallowell said, unwittingly dropping a bomb into the room. "Any more and, well, it was difficult enough this early."
"How…how far along was she?" Eric rasped, worry and fear beginning to lose ground to a growing certainty and nascent rage.
"Ten weeks," Laureanna supplied, "maybe eleven." She didn't ask why-her expression did that for her.
"Eleven," Gail sniffled. "She told me she was eleven weeks along before she passed out the second t-ti-i-immme…" her voice trailed off into another sob.
"Bitch!" Eric hissed, turning to the wall, suddenly oblivious to anything but his wife's continued infidelity.
"What?" Johnston asked, staring at his son. "What in hell do you mean by that? The woman almost died-"
"Almost doesn't count," Eric snapped, making everyone but Jake and Mary blink in shock. Laureanna and Doc moved away, leaving the Greens to handle their own mess without witnesses.
"What do you mean by that? What does it mean-" Gail rallied enough to question her son. This was Eric! First he started running around with that Bailey woman, now he's belittling his wife's near-death experience? How dare he!
"It means, Mom, that April forgot how to count." Eric's reply was brief to the point of vulgarity. Jake felt a cold knot forming in his stomach. No. Not now. He couldn't tell them now. Jake started to speak, but his mother and her temper beat him.
"Explain yourself," Gail hissed, stepping closer to her angry eldest. The tear tracks on her cheeks glistened in the cold, institutional lighting.
"The last time I touched her was the day the bombs went off, and before that was over a year ago," Eric snapped, his anger and hurt bypassing his internal editor. "I have no idea who the father of that child was, but it sure as hell wasn't me." With that, Eric left the room near where his soon-to-be-ex-wife lay unconscious. It hurt that she'd lost the child - his or not, he wanted children. Desperately. But why did she have to lie to him?
Gail's jaw dropped and she felt the weight of her recent actions pile onto her shoulders. Eric had turned away before she could gather her thoughts, Mary hustling to keep up with him. What she did know, though, is that she had a lot of apologizing to do.
Johnston stepped over to his wife. "Honey?" he asked, his tone worried.
"I've made a terrible mistake, Johnston," she rasped, renewed tears catching in her throat as she turned to face her husband. Her conscience. "I…don't know…" she couldn't finish the sentence.
Johnston said nothing; he just took his wife into his arms and let her lean on him. After so many years together, they understood neither was perfect. They also knew that when one would falter, the other tended to strength. No, it wasn't soulmates or any other New Age psychobabble; it was basic compatibility and learning to grow together over some of the most trying times children, war, and marriage could create.
Of the three, Johnston found children the hardest. Gail, he was certain, had a different opinion, but the third place they would agree on, of course.
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"You handled yourself well," Doc Hallowell said to Kenchy. It was as close to praise from the old man anyone had ever heard. A nurse dropped a file in shock. Neither man spared her a look. "We're down a doctor, and several of these patients need more than just one of us working the rounds. Between illnesses and injuries, we're over our limit on work." Doc wasn't a fool. He could read the refusal all over the younger man's face and decided to do something he'd learned in the Army from his commanding officer in the M.A.S.H. detail. "Here's your first patient. Your shift ends at seven. Eat when you can, sleep after your work is done. I'll be asleep in my office. Wake me and you'll need a surgeon."
Kenchy stared at the old man as he stalked back to his office, complete with the nude pictures and shocking artwork. He turned to Laureanna, the amused witness.
"Is he serious?"
Laureanna heard the petulant child in that tone and stifled a smile. "Oh, yes, honey. Deathly." She looked at the clock. "You've got about five hours left, so I'd suggest you get to it. I'll be in my office in the maternity ward, such as it is." With that, Laureanna abandoned Dr. Kenchy Dhuwalia to his fate and the not-so-gentle methods of hospital administration in Jericho, Kansas; population 5,503.
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Heather got the call from Jake around two-thirty, shortly after the surgery was over. They'd agreed to talk about it all tonight.
"And Jake?" she added, knowing that tonight was a bad time, but it was better than never. "There are some…things I need to talk to you about. Nothing as huge as this, but…if tonight's going to be one of those long-talk nights, well…"
"I understand," Jake said, a small smile pulling at his lips. No matter how lousy the day was - and it was - Heather could make him feel lighter. Granted, what she was saying wasn't good, and he hoped she wasn't pregnant, but it didn't sound like that kind of talk. "There are…some things we need to talk about on my side, too." It was time to tell her about Afghanistan. He was about to add something else when he was distracted by a truck from New Bern. "Look, I gotta go. Work just drove up."
"No problem," she said, smiling a little. Jake always seemed to understand what she was trying to say. "I've got to get back and make sure nobody's lopped off an arm or something."
"Nah," Jake teased, "just a few fingers."
"Eew," Heather scrunched up her nose, even though he couldn't see it. "Now I have to clean fingernail out of the press."
Jake laughed, albeit a weak laugh and signed off. Yes, it had been a shitty day, but he felt a bit better now. Only a few more hours before he got to see Heather again. Anticipation in relation to Heather was nearly as addictive as Heather herself.
Heather smiled as she hung up the phone.
"Hey! Dreamer!" Emily called, trying to work off the stress of seeing Roger again. She'd slept, badly, at Heather's cabin. Gran Lisinski had immediately adopted her and they'd talked for a long time about many things, including Roger. No miraculous solution had been reached, but now Emily had someone who would listen and nod and not give her advice and feed her platitudes about love and lust. "Get over here and help get this sorted out!"
Heather looked at the tangled profusion of cords. How had they managed to get the power tools that messed up in less than five minutes?
J*J*J*J*J*J
At Jonah's transport office, Heather and Mitch finished up the class for the day and sent the kids off to handle the rest of their chores. After that routine was up, it was a matter of minutes to load the supplies for the General Store and the handful of things the hospital needed for their electroics & equipment repair. Mitch was still teaching driving while Heather worked with Emily and Aylah pounding mechanical basics into the skulls of somewhat eager young men and women. The classes were getting younger for the beginners, but the intermediate and advanced students were mostly older teens. Some, unfortunately, were like Skylar in their mechanical abilities. Those were sent back to Miss Maddie and her relenteless scheduling with a polite note and a request to never allow them near anything with more than one moving part, provided the part didn't move very far and was considered indestructible by anything other than an F-5 tornado.
Mitch was telling a series of stories to Heather while he drove them to the General Store. Heather listened as Mitch related the days' events to her, laughing in the appropriate places; mostly when his descriptions painted the people she'd come to know quite well as caricatures.
While they unloaded, Jake walked up with two others, one of them Russell from New Bern. The sun was at such an angle that she only got silhouettes, but she recognized Jake's stride and Russell's voice. The third seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him. She could tell by Jake's voice that introductions were already underway as he walked the guests up to them.
"And this is-" Jake said, about to introduce Heather.
"Oh, we know each other," a horribly familiar voice said. The memories of hell burst into Heather's mind as soon as the first sound struck her ears. It couldn't be. It was. Him. "Hello, Sex."
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