Kelly's phone goes off again. Different ringtone this time and a little more persistent. The call ends before it can be sent to voice mail but starts again almost immediately.
"Hot date?" asks Cara, breaking the melancholy that's been settling in.
Kelly chuckles. It's short-lived, turning quickly into a sharp hiss as his shoulder protests the movement.
"It's my chief. They're probably worried and looking for me now."
Cara grabs her penlight, panning across the remains of Kelly's car. "Hold on," she says, climbing over the hood carefully and reaching through the windshield. She digs around for a few moments before triumphantly holding up the phone. "Do you want to answer it?" she asks.
Does he?
He could use the anchor of a familiar voice, the reassurance that someone he trusts has his back and is here with him; even if it is just their voice. There's also terror- fear that he won't be able to ignore the truth about the situation or stall the inevitable. Admitting to someone else the gravity of events means he has to accept his looming fate himself. He's never considered if he wanted to make a dying phone call before.
Kelly shakes his head frantically or as frantically as he can with a collar on. He's unable to trust himself to articulate a coherent answer. Truthfully, he's scared. He spends his days running into dangerous situations and making life or death decisions but now that he's completely dependent on someone else to do the rescuing, courage seems to have abandoned him. If he takes that call and tires to speak, deep down he knows he'll just be a sobbing mess. Is that the potentially last moment he wants to share with his friends?
A little softer she asks, "Do you want me to answer it?"
"Yeah." They're going to find out eventually and maybe this way he'll get an honest assessment of just how screwed he really is and not one designed to keep him calm.
"Okay," she says, tapping the phone. "Chief Boden?" she answers, reading the name off the phone display. She gestures towards Kelly, silently asking if he's changed his mind and wants to speak with the man. Kelly rocks his upper body slightly to indicate no. He's doubtful he could keep it together if actual had to say something to Boden, never mind listening to what would probably be some speech about hope from the man. Kelly's pretty sure this is the moment hope is going to abandon him.
Kelly tries to hide his disappointment as Cara climbs out of earshot and continues the conversation in hushed tones. That's never good. He was hoping to hear what she had to say. At least if she was willing to say it in front of him it might not be so bad.
He might not be articulate at the moment but now that the chance is gone, he thinks that hearing Boden's voice might steady his nerves. Never one to hesitate to rush into danger to save someone else, being helpless doesn't suit him and it's chipping away at his resolve, leaving him a wreck.
It feels like eternity while Cara's gone; a long suffocating limbo of darkness and uncertainty shrouded in pain and fear. This is hell. His entire future, possibly his life is riding on the decisions and skills of someone else. The universe had been conspiring against him all day, apparently it was saving the grand finale for now.
Kelly kind of wonders how Boden is taking the news. Is it with his usual gruff stonewall composure that carefully conceals a caring soul or is the man visibly shaken? Is Herman in denial while Casey demands actions? He hopes he's made enough of an impact in his fire families lives that this revelation would impact them but at the same time the thought of the news causing them any anguish is disheartening.
"Okay," says Cara climbing back to Kelly's side. The reassuring smile is somewhat back, though it seems a little haunted around the edges. She places the phone on what's left of the mustang's hood.
Kelly can't take his eyes off the phone. He once recorded a victim's final goodbye to his wife on that phone. He thinks about the crew at the firehouse, about Stella. Maybe it's not such a horrible idea to leave something for his loved ones. The pain in his legs and shoulder are throbbing like competing drum solos. Things are only going to get worse, especially if he's going to try and hold out for an extraction. Perhaps he should do it now. Better they see him while he can still sort of keep it together.
"Hey," Cara says, getting Kelly's attention like she knows the freight train of thoughts racing through his head. "We're going to get you out of this. You're Chief made me promise. And he sounds like a man I wouldn't want to disappoint."
"But in how many pieces?" sighs Kelly. There are three options in how tonight is going to end; death, amputation and a hail Mary. Today doesn't scream of miracles but rather reeks of doom. He tries to imagine what his life would look like if he is forced to do anything else. He can't think of a single job that would bring him any joy.
Sure he likes fixing boats. It's an awesome way to bring in a little extra cash, not to mention the quiet therapeutic calmness of it all. He's thought about going into it full time before, but that was when it was his choice to walk away. Being forced out due to injury makes doing anything else bitter like ash.
Sure his friends would make the effort to be in his life at first; they stick together after all. But how long will they stay once the bitterness takes over and Kelly pushes all painful reminders of what he's lost away. Will Stella stay at that point?
Pretty soon Kelly will become an obligation, their socializing feeling forced and a consumption of their dwindling spare time. The organic magic of being around the crew every shift will fade and soon the stories and conversations will seem foreign to him without that first hand, 'you had to be there' experience. Eventually he'll just fade out of the group entirely. What does Kelly have after that? Those people are his family, there is no one else.
"None of that," snaps Cara with steely determination. "We're not there yet. You're going to get out of this, Kelly. You're story doesn't stop here." She takes his hand and gives it a firm squeeze.
Kelly squeezes back. The story may not end tonight, for him, losing a leg, turns the story into a horror story. He knows the worst thing to do is lose hope. That's the greatest killer of all. He just needs to focus on something else.
Easier said than done.
He wracks his brain for any fleeting bit of conversation but even basic socializing skills that he's normally so proficient with are eluding him. Then it clicks, something he can latch on to. "How's everyone else? Are the other drivers going to be okay?"
Cara bits her lip and busies herself with Kelly's IV. "A freight truck can do some serious damage."
A flame of guilt burns through Kelly. He's not the only one having a bad night here. "What about the green van?" He remembers the look of fear in the driver's face before they collided, that same sheer helplessness that Kelly's burdened with now. There were kids in that vehicle; a whole family.
Cara brightens a little at the mention of the van. "Dad's got a broken collar bone and a possible shattered knee but the mom, baby and two kids just suffered some bruising and cuts. They were pretty lucky tonight," she says with a smile. "They were our first happy ending of the night." She emphasises the word first, like she expects some more.
At least someone got lucky here. Kelly finds it oddly reassuring to hear. "What about the teenagers in the truck?"
Cara closes her eyes and shakes her head. It's written all over her face and Kelly knows all too well the burden of knowing someone has to make a call to a family tonight that will forever change their universe.
"You did all you could," offers Kelly. He's not the first sad ending tonight.
Cara wipes away a small tear with the wrist of her jacket. She lets out a small forced laugh. "I'm supposed to be comforting you."
"Occupational hazard."
The grinding and screaming of metal vibrates through the scene, joining the harmony of beeps and flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. There's a symphony of pops and cracks followed by the thud of a mangled vehicle being hoisted up by a tow truck. Cara looks over, somewhere beyond Kelly's left shoulder. "We're making progress. They're getting closer to us, you just have to hold on."
Kelly's not sure what they're getting closer to. Are they just paving the way for the trauma surgeon or does he have a real shot of getting out of here? He keeps turning it over in his head. Is he being ridiculous? Most people would just be happy to be alive; he's setting conditions to his rescue. If he doesn't have his job does he pretty much dead anyways. Is living death a life worth having?
"Anyone else make it out?" he asks.
"The driver of the trailer is badly shaken up and feeling guilty," reports Cara.
"He didn't do anything wrong," informs Kelly. "Just another victim of wrong place wrong time."
"Yeah," agrees Cara solemnly.
They both know it doesn't make anyone feel better when there are body bags at the scene. Even Kelly wonders if maybe he shouldn't have pulled into that gas station and told those teens to knock it off. It probably wouldn't have changed a damn thing but it's hard to shake the feeling of what if.
"They took him to hospital for a head scan for a concussion. There was a white car in the mix. Driver and passenger taken to hospital with broken thumbs and nose from the air bags. Girl in the blue SUV is stuck but appears to only have superficial wounds. She's between the van and the white car. And the last car swerved and got clipped in back end sending them down the embankment. I haven't heard much from the team that went down to get them other than they were all alive there."
"So after the kids, I'm the worst?" asks Kelly. It's odd, but knowing the rest of the people involved are better off than he is, it's kind of comforting. It would be better if the teens were alive too, but things could have been much worse for everyone involved.
"Just means you have my full attention tonight Lieutenant." That attention wavers slightly as she looks up at the whomping sound echoing over the forest.
"What is it?" asks Kelly, unable to see the source of the sound. It's not unfamiliar, but the world is a swirling chaos of flashing lights, dark highway and crippling pain.
"Helicopter is looking to land. The trauma surgeon is here," says Cara quietly.
Kelly swallows hard as his stomach drops.
