White-Out- by Brownie
Disclaimer: By legal laws I don't own these characters.
Side note: It might not seem like it for the first two pieces of this chapter, but this is the same story. So bear with me. And besides knowing nothing about medical terms, I also don't know a thing about helicopters. The one I use is a model of my own invention that does what it does for the conveniance of the story and putting the characters through hell.
* * *
"Piece of crap," the trucker mumbled, wiping fog off the front window. He was truly beginning to hate this job- what the hell was he doing in a snowstorm with a load of ice cream in the back? And in storms like this, driving an eighteen-wheeler was unpleasant, to say the least. Wiping the fog off the window didn't help much- all he could see was the taillights of the car in front of him. And the snow was making that more difficult every minute.
"I hate Chicago," he said to himself, "I wonder if Florida has any need for all this goddamned ice cream." He wiped the fog off again, and squinted throught the window, suddenly unable to see even the lights. Stopping would be no good- the people behind would crash into him. It wouldn't hurt the truck, but the last thing he needed were heads rolling- literally. But he couldn't see the road. When he was debating just what to do, he heard scraping down the right side of the truck, and figured it was the guardrails. While the metal-against-metal sound was painful, he guessed it would be better to stay in that posistion so he'd know where and when to turn. "Not my truck anyway." He went on for a few minutes like this, the screeching sound going straight up his spine. When it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, he figured it had veered off further right, so he turned the truck slightly in hopes of finding it again. When he didin't, he turned sharper, and the front of the truck jumped.
"Dammit!" he shouted, figuring it was just the divider. He slammed on the brakes, but he'd been driving too fast- the truck leaped the divider and fell forwards off the bridge.
* * *
"Who takes a class trip in the winter anyway?" the bus driver asked irritably.
"It was only supposed to be flurries," the teacher said for the fifth time since the storm blew up. The kids had finally settled down. A busload of fourth and fifth graders was always an adventure, but even they knew when to be silent. He couldn't see a thing out the window, not even the front of the bus much less the taillights ahead. They were crawling along at a turtle's pace- what else could they do? He was squinting out the window looking for any lights or signs of life at all when the truck landed on top of them. It seemed as if the back of the bus were caving in, and it caused the front to lift off the ground. The crash of the huge truck was so loud that the driver couldn't hear a thing from the kids. As the truck slipped off the top and to the ground, the bus was tossed onto its left side. The driver thought it was over, but there was a series of smaller- but just as loud- crashed behind them. Cars. He counted about five before they stopped. He finally lifted his head to survey the damage. Broken glass had embedded itself in his left arm, but he was otherwise okay. The only lights left were the headlights of the truck, and they were at an angle that only reveal a few forms in the back of the bus. He heard a few of the children whimpering, a few even picked their heads up to peek around. But it was too few. He reached for the radio and wanted to sing when he found it still working. There wre many horror stories that could have been avoided if the radios had worked. "Dispatch? There's been an accident…."
* * *
"Corday and Carter will be going with you in the chopper," Weaver told the paramedics, "Are you sure it can take off in this?"
"We'll be fine," the pilot assured her, "It'll be a bumpy ride with all that wind, but we don't need to see, we can read the gauges." Weaver nodded and rushed the lot of them on their way. Ambulances were already bringing in vicitms of other car crashes. They were minor for the most part, but it kept them busy. How the paramedics drove in the storm was a mystery to her. Almost all the crashes had been the result of driving blind, yet the ambulances made it through. She guessed they had some high powered lights. But this crash that had just been called in was huge. A truck had jumped a bridge and landed on a schoolbus going down the highway. Unable to see it, more cars piled up behind. The danger was, more cars might be out there, complete idiots thinking they had the road memorized, and could crash into the mess. The paramedics would have to be very careful.
Weaver picked up another call, unrelated to the storm. Some kid had been playing too close to a fireplace and had second and third degree burns on her arm.
"Why don't they just put her out in the snow?" Malucci asked from behind her. Always the smart-ass.
"Shut up, they'll be here in three minutes," she said, glaring daggers at him.
"Of course chief," he said, "Ready as usual." And Weaver wished she had a nice, big frying pan in her hands.
* * *
Carter gripped the side of his seat so hard his knuckles turned white. He glanced at Corday, who seemed a little green. The chopper had been bumpy on previous trips, but this was ludicrous. It felt like they were being tossed around. More than once they had tilted at a sharp angle, sending the junk on the floor crashing against the sides.
"We're almost there, Dr. Carter," one of the two paramedics said, seeing his worryed glances. The pilot's angry muttering didn't have her any more at ease than the two doctors. Carter just nodded. He looked out the window and saw only swirling white. How could the pilot know where to go?
"I'm not landing in this," the pilot spoke up suddenly, "I'll let the four of you down, and you can radio me when you need a lift."
"How will we find you?" Corday asked.
"I won't move, and I'll leave the anchor down. You'll find it."
And so Carter found himself dangling in midair, no better than blind. He worried that he was moving down too quickly, which would have been true any other day, but he landed in half a foot of snow. He quickly unhooked his harness, and helped Corday out of hers when she landed. They waited for the two paramedics and headed in the direction of the high-powered flashlights. Carter himself carried one, and led them towards the mess.
"Are you the doctors?" a figure asked as they approached. A cop, probably. Carter could just make out the front of the overturned bus.
"Yea," he answered, "What do you have?"
"A shitload of minors, broken bones and such, and three majors, but we haven't approached the cars yet. We had another crash just before you arrived." They stood before the bus now, where the door, which was now on top, was wide open. Carter climbed up and turned to pull Corday up behind him.
"They'll all have frostbite if we don't get them out of here," she said, dropping into the bus. The driver greeted them first. "Are you okay sir?" Corday asked.
"I'm fine, it's just a little glass. One of the kids in the back are stuck."
"I'll take care of it," Carter said to Corday, "Have them show you the other two majors." She continued speaking to the driver as he made his way to the back of the bus. Most of the kids sat huddled together in the middle around their teacher, who was trying to keep them quiet.
"Everything okay here?" he asked.
"Nothing that can't wait," the teacher said, "The little girl in the back needs help, um, her name's Lani."
"Thanks," Carter said, "I'll have this group taken care of as soon as possible." He finally reached the kid- another paramedic was with her. It looked as if the top of the bus- now on the right- had caved in. It was a miracle it hadn't gone down further than it had. As it was, it was almost touching the tops of the seats. The girl was lying down on her side. "What do we have?" Carter asked.
"Her arm is pinned under the bus," the paramedic said, "Must have gone out the window before it landed. I have her a local, but it won't last long."
"Right," Carter said, tossing his bag to the ground, "There's morphine in there, give her .5 for now." He turned to the little girl. Her dark pigtails were in disarray, and her blue eyes flashed up at him. She couldn't have been older than ten. "I'm Dr. Carter," he told her, "What's your name?"
"Lani Holland," she said, teeth chattering, "It's cold in here."
"I know," Carter said, pulling a blanket out of his bag. "This should help. He pulled it around her shoulders, then knelt down to get a look at the arm. The bus had it pinned between the elbow and shoulder. The paramedic had already ripped her sleeves away from the area. The skin was broken, but the pressure of the bus was keeping it from bleeding at all. "She's not in any immediate danger," Carter said, "She's not bleeding much. But if we don't get her out soon, she'll lose the arm to the cold."
The paramedic nodded. "We wouldn't have to move the bus much. She's small enough that a bunch of us could just shove the bus from the outside and you could pull her out."
"This is a school bus, not a car," Carter said, "You'd need a hell of a lot of people, and even then…."
"People can be surprising in an emergency. Even you should know that, Dr. Carter," he said, "Besides, it's worth a try. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Never ask that," Carter said, "What do you think Lani? Should they try to tilt the bus?"
"I don't want to lose my arm," she said, eyes wide.
"You won't," Carter assured her, then to the paramedic, "See how many people you can gather, then get back to me." The guy nodded and hurried out the bus. Carter turned back to the kid.
"How's your arm feel?" he asked.
"Cold," she said, "He gave me a shot so it doesn't hurt any more."
"Dr. Carter?" a voice shouted from the front of the bus. Yet another paramedic came jogging towards him. "Dr. Corday sent for you. I'll stay with the girl."
"Right," Carter said, "Come get me if there's any trouble."
"You're leaving?" Lani asked.
"More people need help," he said, "I'll be back to check on you, don't worry." And he ran off to find Corday.