Human After All
The Dark Side of the Moon
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A/N: Ah, yes, it has been a while... But I'm back now, and here is the latest piece of drama ;) Thank you all for being so very encouraging with your reviews - every single last one makes my day! Hope you all enjoy this!
Caught off-guard by disaster so indescribable, Lieutenant Johnson's eyes scanned the panorama slowly, purposely letting the staggering images brand his brain and cringing inwardly as each and every aspect pierced his vision. Undeniably, this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, the devastation well beyond anything he'd had to deal with hitherto.
Dark, fuel-induced smoke billowed thickly from the swell of distorted metal in pungent surges, muffed screams scratched at his ears, and the sickeningly sweet smell of burning flesh and plastic were each a deciding part of a violent assault on all of his senses. Yet, all of the overwhelming distress and magnitude barley began to sink in, even after a few long moments dragged by. Unconsciously, he felt his fingers curl tightly against his palm, his heartbeat a provoked pulsation surging through his fist.
This was too much. He was inadequate. His crew - completely insufficient.
Strikingly, these thoughts had never before run though the Lieutenant's head, had never had the gall to make themselves known. But now they had a body - legs to stand on, a mouth that roared destruction and fury - and were unfortunately so utterly true that it frightened him.
Smoke stung at his eyes, a familiar sensation, tearing them up a bit as they took in and simultaneously assessed the devastation around and below. His thoroughly humbled gaze lingered on the overturned eighteen-wheeler, perverted almost unrecognizably from the deadly nose-dive, the broken guardrails dangling just feet above its metal side, the heaps of dirt and sand spilled from its belly - a sight to behold indeed. The grievous mass of wreckage accounted for the majority of the catastrophe, but was not the worst to be seen. A few cars had been tossed, it seemed, over on their backs - only to be slammed and smashed, impacted by other vehicles into the most contorted of shapes. Thriving flames ate away at the feast, eyeing its next course as it licked its lips in pleasure.
A cursory guess, made from years of experience, sited the number of totaled cars in the high thirties, but a closer reckon would demand a higher tally, and would suggest an excessive body count. He found himself frowning in stupefaction as he speculated vainly as to exactly where they were supposed to start. The blazing cars below just might win prescience, but then again, they might need to begin with pulling the helpless multitudes from their constricted and unyielding prisons. The severity of it all fully warranted the thick dread and staggering inadequacy that pulsed along with his surging adrenaline.
"Lieu?"
The concerned voice brought him from his somewhat dazed assessment, to the face of one of his finest. A sort of shell-shocked miasma had glazed over his eyes, though after years, Jimmy had become quite a good actor, attaining the art of masking his feelings to get the job done, and was, at the moment, doing his best to keep up appearances. He never had really been very readable, as far as his fear-value went, but now justifiably looked thoroughly alarmed.
Johnson ran a gloved hand down his face, nearly pinching himself to verify the actuality of it all. Closing his eyes, deftly blocking out the horror and dismay, he allowed one more prolonged moment to elapse, this time laden heavily with desperate prayers. God always had a hand in everything, he supposed, and this time they needed all the help they could get.
He quickly cleared his constricted throat, leveling his gaze and setting his mouth in a resolute line. Finding his voice unearthed his momentarily lost confidence and proficient poise, and sent assurance through his small band of men. "Alright, boys, let's do this."
Snow and ice garnished the windshield in a harsh fashion, now whipping into the glass instead of the previously willowy fall. The second hand of his wristwatch was loud against the silence, clicking each instant out unhurriedly. If he'd noticed the dissonant hush, he might have made an effort to squelch it with an offhanded comment or question, but he was far away in his thoughts, his mind whirling and reeling after the latest radio announcement.
Perhaps the direness and magnitude conveyed was an exaggeration, an over-precaution due to the tempest gathering force - the department did tend to lean that way in extreme weather situations. Yes, maybe that was it...
His unconvinced mind strained to reconcile his doubts, but only managed to send a disquieted shiver up and down his spine.
Something was wrong, and it was scaring him half to death.
"Clear, sir," broke in Gusler's hesitant voice, referring to the desolate intersection and green streetlight illuminating their path. The roadways ahead were outwardly deserted, but as the cruiser drew nearer to their destination, the howls of numerous emergency sirens lit the air as a foreshadowing of the calamity to come, taunting their senses with hideous shrikes.
Sully took a deep breath and eased into the intersection, grimacing slightly in anticipation. Years and years of experience prepared him for just about anything, and even then he had no idea where the profound feelings of uneasiness and alarm had derived from, but they were there, nonetheless.
Nerves of steel - that's what a fellow officer had once dubbed him. And it suited him, too. Sully had earned the manly title after skillfully retaining his composure during an extravagant gunfight. Realistically, he'd been with three rookies that hadn't been able to see through his mask of equanimity, and was actually scared as hell. Still, he sported the 'been there, done that' attitude as part of his manner, choosing to retain some of the respect he'd earned, as off-beam as it may be.
He was, on the other hand, never wide of the mark when it came to bad feelings, particularly concerning his partner - almost as though he had an internal 'trouble-o-meter'.
Red flags were flying now, his gut instincts flaring and screaming, and he couldn't help but wonder about the welfare of young Davis. Riding with Bosco would most definitely bring on a multitude of dangerous circumstances, for the impetuous and brash officer could never run a day without a small bit of drama. This unconscious reminder did nothing for his nerves, and displayed its consequence as a firm thrust on the accelerator.
Intuitively knowing full well that something was dreadfully amiss, Sully could only hope against hope that he was wrong just this once.
"What the hell is this?"
Kim declined to answer, not for lack of things to say, but rather the ability to say them. For a painfully long second, she allowed her mouth to fall open, and her pretty brow to crease in stunned worry. Only after Bobby had snapped out another frustrated and confused articulation, did she manage to speak.
"God, Bobby... What...?"
Her gray eyes, transfixed on the snow-covered street before them, barely made out a turn of her partner's head, the shocked expression crossing his handsome features that almost completely emulated her own.
The road before them was literally a parking lot of emergency vehicles, all flashing their lights in urgency as they were forced to a dead halt, neatly spaced three wide and countless deep. Ceaselessly, the anomalous queue seemed to stretch on for miles, deceptively disappearing into the whiteout that smothered the city. The scene was surreal at best, jarring any false sense of security that their occupation meagerly offered.
This was the real deal.
Bobby slowed their own lumbering vehicle to a smooth stop, edging into the outskirts of the gridlock, finding a place between a police cruiser and a fellow ambulance. He shook his head in perplexed unease, taking a moment to fully grasp the unusual and frightening situation as his eyes skipped and flitted around, endeavoring to absorb it all. According to Dispatch, the accident was another two full blocks ahead. The mere thought of such clogging extending that far was amazing and alarming, all the same.
"Okay..." he whispered to himself, finding the word escaping his mouth before he even thought of it. Though he knew that the sight his eyes were taking in was indeed real, it had an incredibly fictitious quality to it - everything so comparable to an episode of "The Twilight Zone" that he half expected the eerie music to start up.
At that time, reflexes kicked in, and he felt the familiar burden of concerned, protective sensitivity settle into his chest - no doubt stemming from his childhood position of family head and caregiver. Kim, as well as many close friends alike, had always chided him on his empathetically maternal side, and he usually made an effort to suppress the nagging twinge to appear more 'conservatively masculine' and less 'motherly'. This time, on the other hand, he found himself swallowed in instinctual consternation, holding long breaths and digging his fingers nervously into the steering wheel.
"This's bad... Really bad," Kim spoke once more, each word emphasized by her inflectionless and blunt tone.
Bobby could do naught but silently agree.
Experience bred caution, but no amount of prudence could hold back his feet. Boots, old and well-worn, slapped against the pavement, his breathing rapid and in tune with the hurried pace.
Only a few minutes before, the Lieu's first orders had made themselves know, however trivial they may have seemed due to the sheer scale of the calamity at hand. Though fully willing to comply, Jimmy had found himself hesitating markedly before obeying the brusque demands, internally struggling to remain completely collected and vigilant.
Reality quickly got him over himself.
Taking a few steps forward, he let his gaze roam, deciding immediately where help was needed most, and then hurriedly searching out a path to the lower-level damage. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted his peers scrambling to remove the heavy hoses from the truck. On a normal day, Jimmy might have played up his "macho man" persona by insisting on manning the hoses, but today he was shaken to the core and was intent only on aiding the hordes of victims.
Running parallel to the accident, he made his way towards what he thought could be a softer slope to the concrete walls bordering the road below. Still, even at the gentlest section of the gradient, the angle was significant and would surely be a hindering factor in the rescue efforts to come.
Without a second thought, he slid down the cement incline on his backside, looking as clumsy as he felt. There really was no way to slide down gracefully, though, he supposed. Ten feet of relative free falling later, his boots connected with the hood of a bashed up Chevy that was crushed against the wall, resonating with a deep thud. He must have startled the occupant inside, for a shocked squeal erupted from beneath him.
Not wanting to scare said person any further, he dropped to his belly on the cold roof and peered into the cracked driver's side window. A frightened set of blue eyes gaped back at him, dripping tears down their owner's face. She was about his age, not more then thirty, he quickly assumed, and wasn't seriously hurt from the looks of things. His presence only seemed to intensify her tears, and she slapped both of her bloodied hands against the cold window glass, pleading with him. The cracks in the window absorbed her blood, creating the strangest of designs on the fractured pane.
"Help me!" she sobbed, on the verge of hysteria.
"Miss? Someone will be along real soon to get you out. I have to go help some other people, but I'll make sure you're helped as soon as possible, okay?"
Though his reply felt pathetically unconvincing, there really was no time for consolation - no matter how much he wished to placate her. The heat of the nearby fire was enough of a restraint to send him bouncing back up onto his feet and then down onto the ground.
Fighting to maintain his mental strength, he willed himself to ignore the resonating sounds that grated intensely on every nerve. Helpless moans, shrikes, and cries embedded into his consciousness, manifesting utmost pain and panic. But unless the fire was put out quickly, there would be much bigger problems to be concerned about, and the death toll could skyrocket out of control.
He noted that that the handful of firefighters present were doing their best to extinguish the conflagration, but it had become a living entity, chewing and spitting its wrath at being disturbed.
In all of his years of being a firefighter, he'd never really experienced the sense of how ineffectual he truly was. Now he knew. He was pathetic, put in his place by the substantial situation, and realized that, with the small group of emergency responders there at the moment, it was ludicrous to even think that they could handle this.
In spite of the grim outlook, nonetheless, he went into autopilot, mechanically moving towards the fire's next target and its inhabitant - a car situated precariously only a mere feet from the unbridled inferno.
It had to be done, he figured, and he was the man to do it.
"Hey! Get back!" a firefighter from another precinct shouted at him as he passed, waving a gloved hand as if to shoo him away to safety. "You want to get yourself killed?"
"I have a job to do."
His impulsive statement was as much of a surprise to himself as it was to the other fellow, who simply nodded after throwing him another concerned glare. Mentally, Jimmy realized that he must have a death wish, but continued on, unperturbed. Luckily for him, he'd never really had a sense of fear, and took all things in stride - as another notch in his belt.
This notch, he decided quickly, would have to be a pretty big one.
"Holy shit... How the hell are we supposed ta'...?"
The rest of Carlos' exclamation was lost to Doc, partially from the excessive wind thrashing his ears, and partially because the magnitude of the situation was commanding all of his senses. He was quite sure, though, that whatever his partner had to say was of no great importance right then, and was spoken from downright astonishment.
Abandoning their bus, Doc swung the heavy meds bag over a shoulder and made a beeline towards what he assumed would become the central hub of emergency services. A single fire truck and a couple of police cruisers had already arrived, and were parked in a sort of semi-circle off to the side. Their owners and crew were trying their best to look in control - but doing a rather poor job of it.
Doc wove around a few flustered cops after spotting Johnson, stepping adroitly over the flat, unfilled hoses crisscrossing the ground. He wondered briefly as to why they weren't in use, but lent that to the fact that nothing seemed to be going smoothly at the moment.
As he drew closer, he noted the outwardly detached look on his boss' face. The Lieutenant's deep smile lines were unseated by worried furrows in his brow, his mouth hung slightly agape, breath a heavy fog, spaced as though he were breathing deeply to retain or find his characteristic sang-froid. Although his perspicacious eyes repeatedly scanned and rescanned the premises, they almost didn't seem to see.
"Where do you want us, Lieu?"
Doc's innocuous question seemed to light an unfamiliar spark of panic in his supervisor, as though he were out of his league and knew it. Johnson was never out of his league - that's what made him the best. That's what made him a good leader.
In an unconscious show of his own support, the veteran paramedic tilted his chin up a fraction and stared right in Johnson's eye, letting him know he was confident in his abilities.
"Doc, I don't know where to put you right yet," Lieu stated honestly while shaking his head, knowing that humility went hand-in hand with headship. "See where you're needed most, but stay away from those cars down there - they look about ready to blow."
"Yes, sir," Doc nodded firmly, making sure to crack a weak smile to substantiate his competency.
The small gesture must have done what was intended, for Johnson instantly straightened and looked appreciative for the vote of confidence. Doc, however, felt almost as though he were being mendacious, for the only thing running though his head then, was how thankful he was that he wasn't in charge of the mess.
Quickly walking away, he got his first head-on look at what they were up against and was instantaneously daunted. The feelings of inadequacy seemed to be contagious.
"You think we can actually put a dent in this?" Carlos hissed from behind, voicing a very real concern. For once, Doc actually sided with the young and habitually tactless rookie, sincerely doubting the amount of help that they would be able to provide.
"We're gonna have to."
Pacing back and forth could do nobody any good, but was somehow strangely comforting. For the umpteenth time that hour, Larry's feet were inclined to stop their rhythmic steps in front of the massive screen before him. A frown crossed his features and his gaze, once again, flitted from one end of the map to the other.
The wall-sized monitor displayed a current map of the city, highlighted with bright red and blue markers with assigned letters and numbers. Blue 55G was 55-George; red E57 was Engine 57 and so forth. Every minute on the minute, the diagram was refreshed to show the up-to-date information and whereabouts of each vehicle, insuring that all were where they were supposed to be. At present, there was a massive blurb of color and numbers, indicating the backlog of emergency vehicles surrounding New York City's latest act of mayhem. As of then, the freeway pileup was responsible for nearly a third of all of his staff, clearly displaying the level of disaster.
He had full faith in his men, however his mind wasn't actually on the accident at all, but rather on the location of 55-David. Their marker was stationary, still placed at the rape case, a few blocks from the freeway. He had been alerted to the loss of radio contact, that they had been chasing a rape and kidnapping suspect at the time of their last call-in, and the fact that they hadn't been heard from in more than an hour. This was as grave as it was rare, and it was becoming increasingly alarming as the seconds ticked by.
Acting sagaciously, he had assigned Audrey, a veteran dispatcher, to try and regain contact with the unresponsive officers, and she was to inform him as soon as she did. Just to be safe, two other squads were assigned to search the surrounding vicinity.
He should have been focusing on massive pileup, coordinating the rescue efforts and such, but could not get the uneasiness and growing anxiety to leave him be.
Giving in to his managerial apprehension, he cleared his throat. "Audrey?"
The dismal shake of her head sent a tremor down his spine. "Nothing, sir... But there's so much on the airwaves right now - nobody's getting much through." She shrugged and blinked perplexedly, offering him a shadow of a smile. "Maybe they think it best to stay quiet and let the important things get said..."
Even she sounded disbelieving of her own words. Officers of the 55 did not just drop off the map. This was more serious then her simple explanation.
The closer he drew to the fire, consequently, the less he could see. Jimmy wiped at his burning eyes to stay their watering and smarting - but his effort was to no avail. Whereas a moment ago his footing had been in snow and dirt, his careful footsteps now splashed in inches of spilt gasoline. This only strengthened his resolve, for the person trapped nearest to the blaze was in dire need of help, due the alarming amount of the flammable liquid oozing all around.
Because the crashed cars were so compacted together, Jimmy had to crawl over a couple to get to where he felt he was needed most. It was traversing the hood of the second vehicle that he felt a familiar current of air hit his skin, and heard a soft sucking sound.
Instinctually, he threw himself as low as possible, flattening his body to the hood, knowing full well what always followed the two deadly sensations.
In a flash, his world ignited violent white, and an unseen force pressed him down even further. Heaving his arms up, he covered his face to shield off the angry flare and held his breath in fear. The heat was extreme, scalding his exposed skin and leaving him breathless in its wake. But it was not the discomfort that left him cringing.
Another car had exploded, he realized, and it was only a matter of time before the rest followed.
His fingers flexed and un-flexed restively - an old habit and a sure sign of his insecurity and troubled thoughts. If the job had taught him one thing, it was that keeping your head in every situation was the way to go. Impetuosity could get you nothing but trouble, and on-the-spot discretion saved more lives then not.
Second nature ruled his movements once more, and found Bobby rubbing his hand across the back of his neck in agitation. Here, he and Kim were faced with a choice. Either stay with the bus and find a way around the congestion, or infringe protocol, leave it, and make their way to the site on-foot - possibly obstructing further rescue efforts with the abandoned ambulance.
Impulse reared its ugly head and trounced out any deliberation.
"We're wasting time. Lets' go," he decided, opening the door of the cab and preparing to step out into the night. He hesitated, though, when the outside elements were let in. Adding to the oddness of the situation was the lack of noise - sirens eerily silent and any talking kept in low tones.
He glanced back uncertainly at his partner for her take on the matter. Though he'd been able to mentally slip into a somewhat-collected mindset, Kim, conversely, looked rather thrown, still trying to digest the confusion of the moment, her gray eyes darting back and forth from his face to the road ahead.
For a moment, their eyes locked and neither one blinked, each trying to read the other. A tangible fear loomed in the air, radiating from their motionless forms like body heat. But fear was an old foe, and they were both old hand at pushing it aside to get done what needed to be done.
Keeping her apprehension at bay, Kim nodded and conjured up a watery smile, satisfying Bobby's pronouncement with her apparent support. Not a word was spoken further as they worked quickly, fishing out the desired paraphernalia and then closing up their ambulance.
Their exit was met by the sound of resounding slams of numerous doors cutting the still of night with discordant ease, and the oddness of the moment took a turn for the worse, slipping easily into just plain surreal.
Without warning or indication, the gridlock had rapidly been converted into a silent exodus as medical and fire personnel forsook their vehicles to trek through the falling snow.
Though all of it was very disturbing and all too real, Bobby found himself in denial of the sight, mentally wishing that this nightmare were indeed just another sci-fi episode fabricated in his dreams.
Even though the room buzzed with activity and sang with sound, Lieutenant Swersky seemed to pay no heed. The news of the pileup had reached his ears not long ago and had worried him a bit, but he'd seen his fair share of 'calamity' and was confident that the latest problem would be solved no later than the end of his shift.
Dispatch had pulled a large chunk of his force to respond to the incident, but to that point, there had been no request for a supervising officer on site. Therefore, in the interim, he made himself useful by answering phones and conducting his remaining men to the other mishaps and crimes littering his precinct. He'd spent many a night just the same way - everything very old hat, as far as he was concerned.
"Sir?"
A rookie officer stood to his left, hovering over his shoulder. Swersky frowned at the discourtesy, but raised his brow, waiting to know what he'd been interrupted for.
"You have a call on line three."
"Thank you," he replied as he grabbed the nearest phone and punched the correct button. "Fifty-Fifth precinct, Lieutenant Swersky."
"Joe? It's Larry..."
Swersky's face instantaneously revamped, his countenance wilting from the placidness that had mirrored his equanimity, to a tense look of concern.
Hailing from the same squad since they'd been rookies in the force, Larry Sewell and he had known each other for ages. While Swersky had chosen to ascend the ranks to lieutenant, Larry opted for a quieter and less-stressful position as Head of Dispatch. Still good friends, barbeques and the occasional after-hour drink kept them in touch. Most people might have been glad to receive a call from an old buddy, but the Lieutenant knew that - at work - a call from Larry only meant that there was something wrong with one or more of his men.
"Larry, what's going on?"
A pause lit the line. "We, uh, lost contact with one of your RMPs about an hour ago, and haven't been able to regain it so far. I have--" Larry's voice, though trying to, was weak in conveying his hopefulness. But hope could not erase fact: The last time a squad had gone missing, it had turned up in the river with two dead cops in it.
The tense look splaying across his face deepened considerably with the bad news, and Swersky broke in, declining to hear the rest of his explanation, "Who is it? What squad?"
"55-David, Officers Davis and Boscorelli."
Immediately, his fist slammed into his desk, banging his displeasure. Not only had he known that afternoon that putting those two together would be trouble, but he was well aware that Bosco had a way of finding the worst possible circumstances happen upon.
"Son-of-a-bitch..." he whispered.
The small blast had sent a surge of bleakness through the assemblage of firefighters and paramedics alike, forcing them all to stop for a moment and rethink their own mortality.
As sickened dread settled artlessly into his stomach, Johnson noted to fairly awed looks plastered on his comrades' faces. Though none of them were overwhelmed, any previous confidence had vanished and was replaced by a newfound respect.
The flames were high and hot, and even from a distance, scorching his bare flesh with glee. While thoroughly deferential of their opponent, there was no way in hell that he wasn't going to be the victor.
His mind began a whirlwind of stratagems; all of witch immediately took second place when he realized that the scene below had a new curveball to fling his way.
Bellowing like a hungry beast, the smoke coughed out a familiar figure, stooped over slightly as he obviously begged for breath. Showing, once again, how well he played his part in the graying of his Lieutenant's hair, Jimmy stumbled away from the flames and made his way up the easement slowly, smothering his compulsory choking with a gloved hand. Apparently, he hadn't been wearing a mask.
Johnson fought off the urge to lecture, and instead ran over to inquire about his health. "Jimmy! You alright?"
Brown eyes shone bright against the black soot covering his face, but Jimmy's expression was less then cheery. "Yeah...fine..." he gasped, still trying to find the breath he'd lost.
"Okay. How long until we have it out?" Johnson inquired, his voice well-nigh toneless with discouragement.
"Lieu, it's not..." Jimmy shook his head and sighed, pausing to wipe his face of sweat. The perspiration seemed incongruous and disturbing in he sub-zero night air. "Too much gas..."
"Yeah, I know," the Lieutenant replied straightforwardly, confirming his understanding of the deadly hitch.
This was a major concern, needless to say, in each and every vehicular accident - fuel always played a big part. Every single vehicle was automatically thought of as a ticking time bomb, a fuse just waiting - wanting - to blow. Caution was key, but in this case, it really had to be thrown to the wind. There was too much at stake - too many innocent people ensnared and dying.
Working the emergency service had its moments - the times where death seemed inevitable for someone. Unfortunately, this time was no exception. Even so, every man there had a choice - he didn't have to risk his life. It came down to willpower and resolution, character and courage, and none of the many faces working around the lieutenant appeared ready to back down. Seeing their determination to succeed, he couldn't have been prouder.
This was what made these men heroes.
But there were heavier things on his mind. The flames below taunted him as they danced in his eyes, menacingly delighted to take someone down. Their worst enemy was putting up a great fight, and Johnson was veteran enough to know that it would take no prisoners. Swallowing hard, he nodded at no one in particular and patted Jimmy on the back. "You sit out for a few minutes, okay? Run down and see if that pumper has extra foam."
Jimmy moved to take off, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder and a low command.
"And, Doherty...?"
"Yeah?"
"Get a priest down here."
To Be Continued...
For all of those wondering about our two friends... They will be making an appearance in the next chapter. Please tell me what you thought of this one!!
