Part 4


The sight froze Mark into immobility for a moment. Steve lay perfectly still - he couldn't even make out a rise and fall of his chest. His hair was plastered against his head and he was spattered with mud thrown up from the rain pounding the ground, his thin singlet almost transparent, wet through and through with rain. No wonder he had been so hard to see - he was almost part of the ground himself. That thought made him shudder, and the shiver brought him somewhat back to himself. Panic wouldn't help, he told himself sternly. It wouldn't help Steve and it wouldn't help him. He unzipped his jacket and pulled it off, draping it over Steve's shoulders. It was drenched, of course, but at least it was dry inside and probably held a little of the warmth from his own body. He rested his fingers against the pulse point in Steve's neck next. Nothing. He felt a little sick at the thought, but the skin was so cold and his fingers were shaking so hard, he couldn't really be sure he was getting an accurate reading. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and tried again. "Mark - Oh, geez - " He sensed, rather than saw, Jesse drop down in the mud on the other side of Steve.


"We've got to get him out of this rain, Jess - I don't think he's even shivering any more. But I'm afraid to move him without - " he realized he was babbling and abruptly shut his mouth to try again.


Jesse seemed to understand, though, and bounced back to his feet. "Okay - hang on - Hey!" Mark was mildly perplexed when Jesse started waving his arms, then he followed his gaze to the end of the driveway. One EMT had already left with the ambulance, but the other was still there, packing up equipment and getting ready to roll. He saw Jesse's waving and paused questioningly. Jesse jogged a little further in his direction. "We need your help over here! We got somebody else down!" The EMT nodded and grabbed his portable kit. Jesse moved back to Steve's other side.


Mark barely looked up. "Can you help me roll him onto his back? I want to get a better look."


Jesse nodded, and supported Steve's back as Mark rolled his shoulders until they were flat on the sodden ground. He made a face at the resulting splash. "I wish we had something to put under him..."


The EMT had joined them by this time. "I'll get a thermal blanket," he offered. He looked more closely and winced. "Damn. How long has he been out here?"


"I don't know." Mark heard his voice crack and tried again. "I tried to call, but - " Oh, God. He couldn't have been out here all that time, could he? He tried again for a pulse, but couldn't feel anything, lifted the jacket to rest a hand over Steve's heart instead. He needed to take a deep breath to quiet his own heart and really concentrate, but after a second he did feel a flutter - weak and erratic and slow, but there. He gasped before he could stop himself, his head dropping with relief. Then he saw something else, and bent down further to get a better look.


There was a tear in the lower side of Steve's singlet - a ragged hole, splotched with mud and - something else. It was difficult to see clearly, but from the shape of the faint stain...he parted the shredded material to examine the flesh underneath. Even in the limited light, he could see the messy open wound, already puckering and festering and ringed with dark bruising, still sluggishly bleeding. He automatically pressed his hand against it, feeling in his pockets for a handkerchief - anything clean to cover it and help stop the bleeding. He opened his mouth to tell Jesse, but no words actually came out. This wasn't helping Steve. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to get a grip on himself, and tried again. "He's been stabbed." His voice sounded thin and unreal - like it belonged to someone else.


Jesse glanced over at him; the EMT arrived with the blanket and dropped into the mud beside him. Jesse switched his gaze to the EMT. "If you wanna start an IV, I'm gonna take a look at that wound. Mark, you mind moving?"


The look Jesse shot him was compassionate, but clear - he was in the way. Meekly, he moved until he was sitting at Steve's head. After a second, he moved the head carefully onto his knee and curled one hand protectively over Steve's forehead. God, he was cold. The EMT and Jesse were saying things to each other - he couldn't really follow them. It was a relief, actually, to not have to focus on it - to give all his energy to breathing along with Steve - as though that would somehow keep him alive.


After a minute, two more pairs of feet arrived, carrying a stokes stretcher between them. Mark glanced up long enough to recognize the patrolman and Tanis. Tanis' skin looked waxy and pale, even in the darkness. He noticed that Jesse already had a field dressing on Steve's side and the EMT had established an IV and was fastening an oxygen mask over his face. They were calling something back and forth to each other, then with a sudden heave, they picked Steve up and deposited him in the stokes stretcher.


The EMT folded the thermal blanket over him. "Let's get him inside!" he hollered over the wind. "We can call an ambulance from there, but he needs to be out of this weather!"


Jesse, the EMT, the patrolman and Tanis all positioned themselves around the stretcher, two on each side, and lifted. Mark stood up with them, his hand still resting on Steve's forehead, as though that fragile link would keep his son with him. Lightning chased across the sky, lighting the scene with a blue light. Mark glanced down. In the eerie glow, Steve's skin was colorless - lifeless. He shivered with something other than the cold; then they started toward the front door.


*


Jesse went down to his knees beside the stretcher as it was lowered to the floor several feet inside of the entry hall. Mud and bits of grass were pooling on the polished wood floor beneath, but were given only the briefest notice as he focused his attention on caring for his best friend.


As he took another set of vitals, his gaze flickered up to Mark. The older man's normally neatly arranged gray hair was alternately plastered against his scalp and sticking up at odd angles. His red-rimmed gaze was locked on Steve, and he kept a trembling hand hovering about his forehead as if continuing to protect him from the rain. Haggard and pale, he looked nearly as shocky as his son.


"We need to get him out of these wet clothes," Jesse announced in his direction. Then more loudly when Mark barely moved, "Mark? Mark, can you get some more blankets, towels or anything?" he asked, hoping to give him another purpose aside from worry.


Mark looked at him for a moment as if he didn't comprehend what he'd just said. Then, he blinked, coming back to himself a little. "Yeah, sure, Jess. Towels. . . " He moved jerkily to his feet and headed off deeper into the house.


"I'll help you," Tanis said with a quick look in Jesse's direction before she set off after him.


"What do you need from me, Doc?" the EMT asked, stooping across from Jesse, ready to offer whatever assistance he could.


Jesse continued his monitoring of Steve's condition as he directed the other man toward where Mark kept his medical supplies. He noted that spots of color were beginning to become visible in painfully pale cheeks. He began to suspect that beneath all of the cold, Steve might be suffering from a fever along with everything else. And despite having the oxygen wide open, he didn't like the shallowness of Steve's breathing. The stab wound, the blood loss, the fever, the hypothermia and the shock were a recipe for trouble.


Determination washed through him as he pushed personal feelings aside and focused on being a doctor trying his darnedest to save the life of his patient. Reaching into the medical kit, he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut away the once white singlet, and let it drop away from Steve's body, careful to avoid the field dressing over the vicious wound. Next came the sodden, bloodstained sweat pants, leaving Steve in a pair of gray boxer briefs.


Jesse looked up toward the nervous looking patrolman who hadn't spoken since helping to carry Steve inside. "Give me a hand here, would you?" Jesse asked, showing him how to pull the squishy wet clothing from beneath Steve's motionless limbs.


"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" the patrolman asked nervously, a mixture of concern and guilt crossing his features. Jesse was sure it had something to do with the fact that he hadn't believed Mark's initial claims, but there were other more important issues to be dealt with.


"If I have anything to say about it," was his muttered response while he quickly replaced the thermal blanket over the damp, washed-out looking skin of Steve's extremities. He tucked it up around his shoulders while he waited for Mark to return with the towels.


While the patrolman gathered the wet clothing and carried it off in the general direction of the kitchen, Jesse began another round of vitals. He really didn't like the direction Steve's vitals were taking.


The approaching footsteps of Mark and Tanis sounded just as he began to make out the faint strains of an approaching siren. He felt almost weak with relief. Now to get him to the hospital.


While Mark and Tanis began to unroll the blanket, Jesse continued to monitor Steve, starting another round of vitals. Just as he heard the return of the EMT and the patrolman, Steve took a turn for the worse. The shallow rise and fall of his chest ceased altogether. He was no longer breathing!


Jesse leapt into action immediately, determinedly keeping his mind blank as he started to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation on his best friend. He couldn't allow himself to think about Mark, or how he would be feeling at the realization his only son had stopped breathing. This was just a patient, and one he was well able to save. Blanking all other thoughts from his mind, he set to work. He was vaguely aware of the siren getting nearer but he blocked out the sound, wanting only to concentrate on getting the patient to breathe.


Mark watched the actions of Jesse with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Steve was fighting for life-again - but the entire scene had a nightmarish quality about it. Mark could only watch his friend fight for his son's life. Jesse was one of the best doctors Mark had ever had the honor to work with, and he only hoped that his undoubted skill would be enough.


Mark lost all perception of time - it was probably only minutes, but the minutes had seemed to stretch out endlessly as the fight for life continued. Finally Jesse lifted his head and nodded slightly at Mark. Steve was back.


Tanis had watched the proceedings too, standing back but wanting to stay close enough to render assistance if needed. She was particularly worried about Mark, for he looked close to collapse himself. But she remained silent; offering up a prayer for her partner and friend. She looked up at the sound of voices and doors slamming. So deep in thought had she been, she hadn't heard the ambulance arrive but she ran to the door. The sooner they got Steve to the hospital, the better.


Mark watched helplessly as Jesse prepared to move Steve onto the gurney and he felt every minute of his age. Reluctantly, he realized Jesse should be the one to accompany Steve in the ambulance. He was too shaky to feel confident he could be of any help and he just nodded curtly towards Jesse. Tanis agreed to take him to the hospital as she could see he was not in any condition to drive. The trip to the hospital was carried out in silence. Tanis used her siren to follow the ambulance at speed and Mark just sat staring out of the window. As he allowed his jumbled thoughts to settle down, the cold which had frozen him with fear started to melt, to be replaced by a searing anger. Anger at the robbers who'd not contented themselves with taking his belongings, but had seriously injured his sick son; anger at himself for not checking on his son earlier, when he knew something wasn't right; and lastly, even anger at Steve for trying to take on the robbers. Surely Steve knew that belongings could be replaced, but people could not. Steve was sick, he hadn't had the strength to take them on, so why had he? The anger gave him strength. He was going to have some strong words with his son! His anger faltered for a moment-if only he would be given the chance.


Amanda was waiting at Community General. Jesse had gone with Steve to the ER but he'd managed to get a message to her so she would take care of Mark. She guided him to the doctor's lounge, Tanis following close behind.


"I'm so sorry, Mark, I know what happened. But he's in good hands - he's with Jesse."


Mark didn't seem to hear what she said, and was still lost in his thoughts. His question followed on directly from what he was thinking. "Why?" Mark asked as Amanda poured him a coffee.


"Mark? What do you mean?" Amanda was confused by the question.


"Why? He was sick! Why did he think he could tackle robbers! He was in no state to fight! What do I care about property? I just care about him!" Mark's voice was desperate.


Amanda exchanged a worried glance with Tanis as she patted his shoulder. It was going to be a difficult vigil. Before she could respond, she looked up at the sound of footsteps. Jesse was standing there, white and strained.


to be continued . . .