"His pressure's dropping," reports Cara, clear and concise above the growing distress around her. It's another complication they don't need right now.
"We're out of time," concurs the surgeon.
Cara quickly checks to make sure Kelly's shoulder is packed properly to reduce bleeding. Everything seems to be textbook. Her head snaps towards the dash where Kelly's pinned. She couldn't get a good look at the pinned leg before but it was a safe bet there was some kind of wound judging by the large drops of blood on the floor mat. She shines her pen light to examine the floor mat for any signs of more blood but stops moving her wrist half way down.
The light catches a patch of denim jean clad leg that previously was out of sight. The fabric is tinged brown around the edges. "Wait!" she shouts. "Whatever they're doing over there is working." She points towards the side of the wreckage blocking them from getting to the hood of the car and the more problematic dashboard.
All eyes turn to the team working feverishly two vehicles away. They're cutting and dragging pieces of the transport truck away to gain access to the pickup that's smashed and tangled with Kelly's mustang.
"They've moved something that's taken some of the pressure off somewhere and the dashboard's lifted slightly. We couldn't see past his knee before." Cara grabs a hold of Kelly's thigh and with silent prayer gives it an experimental pull. The gap's not big enough and clearly still biting into Kelly's leg somewhere in the calf area.
The surgeon pushes Cara out of the way to get a better look at what they're now dealing with. "The pressure was probably stemming the bleeding before. He's going to bleed out if we don't start now!"
"But what my team is doing is working," protests Boden desperately, looking at Kelly's slack face. They're getting closer but even he can see the hourglass is almost empty.
"Get more fluids in him," the surgeon barks, re-examination the patient. "If we wait, he will die. There's no guarantee of survival right now. I can't state this anymore plainly," he says pointedly.
Cara leans back dejectedly. The surgeon's right; she was just really hoping Kelly would get his miracle tonight. She stares at the too small gap with disdain, like it's taunting them all. When everything is cleaned away and hauled to the nearest junkyard, she personally wants to press the button on the compactor as the remains of this death cage get crushed into oblivion.
"Davis!" says Cara, an idea brightening her disposition. Davis crawls over parts of the wreckage to get closer to Cara. "Do you think that gap is big enough to get the jaws in there?"
Davis looks at the gap in contemplation. It's a little small but there's a chance.
"We just need to raise the dash a little bit and should be able to pull the leg free."
Davis looks uncertain. "That's a hell of a lot closer to a person than I feel comfortable placing a tool."
"But you could?"
Davis rolls his eyes. It's not like Cara is going to take no for an answer. He nods, then makes his way back to the truck to retrieve the jaws without being asked.
"What do you say Doc, give this plan a chance?" asks Boden, seeking the surgeon's support.
The surgeon wants to start banging his head against the hood. What is it with first responders and their desire to gamble with their lives? They're in the middle of nowhere and he can't perform miracles with his limited supplies. Every second spent debating this no win argument is another minute the patient is closer to losing his life instead of a limb. "No. I'm in charge here and we're not risking the patient's life anymore."
"Can you do it?" Boden asks Cara with genuine interest.
"We can tourniquet and free him quickly, the surgeon could be able to stop the bleeding reroute to the hospital." The idea sounds like a Hail Mary coming out of her mouth; everything would have to go right and that's a big ask tonight.
"You don't have medical authority Chief," argues the surgeon.
Boden prays he's making the right call. "I may not have medical authority but I have scene authority and I deem the area too unstable for auxiliary personnel. You'll have to wait over there until it's safe or the patient is brought to you," says Boden pointing back to the triage area of the highway.
The surgeon raises his hands in surrender and takes a step back. "He's going to code when you free him," he warns. He readies instruments anyways, waiting for the moment that clearer heads provide him the room to work at saving his patient's life.
"He's going to code either way," bites out Cara regretfully. She moves in with the tourniquet. "Maybe you can give me a job when I get fired for this," she says with determination as she sets to work.
"We both might be looking for a new job," Boden replies, knowing there will be reports and hell to pay after tonight.
Cara gives the all clear. "Alright, Davis."
The Mustang begins to groan and whine as the metal jaws fight to pry themselves apart. Every millimetre is a hard won victory. Painfully, agonizingly slowly, the dash board buckles and begins to rise up. Eternity settles into the gap as it gasps in surrender.
Cara counts back from ten, trying to calm her nerves as she watches captivated and side eyes the monitor relaying the sad tale of Kelly's falling vitals. A soft pitter patter, like a gentle rain fall haunts the background behind the grinding of the jaw. She looks around to see where the gloomy weather came from but the night sky is clear and full of stars. It's not rain gently kissing the pavement it's drops of blood hitting the floor mat under Kelly's leg.
"Clear," shouts Davis, pulling the jaws out of the way and setting them down on the crushed portion that used to be the mini van's trunk space.
"Owen, make sure his neck is stable and you and Davis are going to pull up carefully," instructs Cara as her paramedic partner joins them with the back board. She positions herself near Kelly's legs, getting ready to help the team effort by lifting from his thighs. "On three."
Everyone holds their collective breaths.
"One."
Owen and Davis brace themselves.
"Two."
Boden shift from foot to foot, the anxiety and anticipation building to a fever pitch.
"Three."
The trio gently lift. Kelly's head rises above the head rest and towards the cut away part of the door.
"Wait," cautions Cara, as she encounters resistance. A soft moan leaves Kelly's lips as his torso pulls against a limb yet unwilling to budge. "He's still caught." She presses her face tightly against the dash as she wiggles her thin arm through the small gap to try and feel where exactly Kelly's right leg is hooked.
The surgeon tilts his head to the side and lets out a long huff, raising his hand in the air to point at the exact situation he was hoping to avoid. Everyone wants to be the hero; no one wants to be the villain. He doesn't collect a bonus for every limb he removes, despite what patients think. He does wasn't necessary to save a life, something that's becoming more impossible by the minute.
He's just about to start pushing over eager paramedics out of the way when Cara declares, "I think the brake pedal is tangled around his foot. I might be able to pull it out of the way. I'm going to need another hand over here Chief."
Boden is quick to move in taking Cara's job of lifting Kelly.
Cara works harder to stretch her arm as far as possible down, ignoring the tight space and unforgiving metal as it bites into her arm. "Alright, three."
They all start to lift carefully. Cara wraps her fingers tightly around the pedal and pulls with everything she has. It's not enough. She uses her free hand to try and reach from underneath but her arm span just isn't long enough for her to get a second hand close enough to be effective.
She is close enough to grab a fistful of denim. With a handful of jean she pulls hard against Kelly's leg, wincing when she hears a painful sounding crack. It works, Cara manages to feather Kelly's damaged limb through the gap.
Davis and Owen pull Kelly from the mangled remains of metal monster holding prisoner, quickly securing him properly to the backboard. "We have a bleeder," declares Owen as he tightens the tourniquet a little more and presses down on Kelly's calf.
The surgeon pushes everyone between him and his patient out of the way. "He's coding. Push…" he orders but Cara is already pulling the syringe and injecting it into the IV line.
The group is quick to start scrambling over cars, getting ready to pass the patient along towards the helicopter. Cara starts bagging, looking forlorn at Kelly's vitals.
"Let's go," the surgeon orders. They're better off trying to deal with things at the helicopter that forty feet away than to work on the patient here.
They quickly move Kelly along, each taking a turn to pass the backboard over the choppy sea of twisted metal. "He's not breathing," informs Cara as they reach the steady and firm safety of the highway. The surgeon is quick to start compressions as they continue to rush Kelly to his waiting ride.
Boden falls behind, letting much more needed personnel gain access. He watches carefully though. All of the first responders gather round forming a clear path for the medical team to get to the chopper. The closer they get to the helicopter the hard it is to keep eyes on an unconscious Kelly who is soon lost in a jumble of medical terms that are never associated with a good outcome. With a collective breath the patient is slid into the chopper, the surgeon quickly reaching for the defibrillator as the door slams shut.
The helicopter takes off in the night leaving everyone at the scene following it with their eyes until it vanishes in the horizon.
"Is he going to make it?" demands Boden.
Cara swallows the lump in her throat. "I hope so."
Kelly slowly blinks his eyes open, once, twice. Everything is a blur of white and beige. Only slightly more concerning is the person that's been taking slap shots in his head. "Mmmmm," he moans, feeling altogether too tired for the day. His head lulls to the side as he feels someone place their hand over his.
He blinks again. "Stella?"
"Can't leave you alone for a minute," she says with a pained smile, sitting next to him.
"Thought you were in Vegas?" mumbles Kelly, wiggling deeper into the nice warm blankets.
"I was." Kidd waits a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Kelly's chest before asking, "Do you remember what happened?"
Kelly opens his eyes and stares at a ceiling that is decidedly not his own. The more he lays there, the more things he catalogues as not being the aesthetic choices of his apartment. He licks his dry lips. "I was going up to Boden's lake cabin."
"Yes," agrees Kidd with a small nod.
Things are a little blurry after that. Vague flashes of a pickup and a sharp corner come to mind followed by big brown eyes and a hopeful smile backlit by flashing red and white lights. "I think I need to go car shopping again."
Kidd tilts her head from side to side. "And we aren't going to dancing anytime soon."
Panic washes over Kelly as memories flood his thoughts like a freight train.
"We're going to have to call in a trauma surgeon to amputate so we can extricate quickly"
"We all would like to leave scenes like this whole, sweetheart. But my job is to make sure the patient has the best chance of survival. The longer we wait, the trickier the situation gets. He can't wait like this forever."
The monitor beside him starts to beep as Kelly fights to take any sort of a breath. He tries to raise his head but it feels like it's made of led. He can't feel anything else as he desperately tries to wiggle toes he doesn't know are there or not.
"Kelly calm down," says Kidd, rubbing her hand gently across his chest, careful of his injured shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Did they?" stammers Kelly, frantically pawing at Kidd. Pain erupts in his shoulder as he moves his arm. It's quickly zapping the small amount of energy he's summoning.
"Did they what?" she asks as he finally gets a good grip on her arm and pulls himself up.
Kelly can feel his heart thud in his chest as he finally gets a good look at his lower body. A shuddering breath escapes as he comes face to face with the brilliant white cast encasing his right leg- all five tones accounted for. "It's broken?"
Stella follows Kelly's eye line as she carefully lowers him back down on the bed. "Doctors say you'll be in a cast and in a wheel chair because of the shoulder for about eight weeks, then with a little rehab be back to work as good as new."
Kelly lets out a sigh of relief as tears start to prickle the edges of his eyes.
"I'm afraid that's my fault," comes from the door followed by a gentle knock. Stella waves their guest inside.
"Cara," says Kelly, warmly at the welcome sight. "What do you mean?" he adds with a frown.
"I might have pulled too hard and awkwardly at what was a hairline fracture when we extracted you. I'm the reason you have a compound fracture," she explains with genuine remorse in her eyes. "You don't seem like a flowers kind of guy so I brought some reading material." She turns her stack of magazine and newspapers around to flash the titles at Kelly. They're mostly car magazines and the buy and sell pages for private vehicle sales.
Kelly extends his IV laden hand out to her. "You're the reason I have a leg at all."
Cara takes his hand giving it a firm but minute shake. "Oh I think your stubbornness and determination to live is the real reason you're here. But I'll take all the credit I can get before my next job evaluation."
"Thank you," says Kelly sincerely.
"I just wanted to pop in and see how you were doing before I book off for the next couple of days. I hope to work with you, Casey, Herrmann and Boden in the field one day. In a strictly firefighter/paramedic capacity, we already did the paramedic/patient thing. Take care of yourself Kelly," bids Cara.
"You too."
Thank you, mouths Stella as Cara leaves the room. "Speaking of time off," starts Stella, "the Chief agreed to me taking a week to help you get home and settled and started with rehab."
"It's not Vegas," says Kelly sympathetically.
"No, it's better," says Stella leaning down for a kiss.
The End
Thank you so much to everyone who read this story. And a special big thanks to those that left reviews and comments. It means the world.