"A Measure of Luck"
Chapter Five
DeSoto discontinued AR, once again, and the remaining distance between them and the Squad, was quickly covered. The vertical paramedic reached out and pulled its closest door open.
The drug box and Bio-phone were placed in the center of the truck's seat.
The unconscious paramedic was propped up against its open passenger door.
Roy connected a non-re-breather mask to the end of the respirator's hose line and attached an Ambu-bag to it. Then he set the O2 tank down on the seat, on top of their other equipment. "Get in!" DeSoto ordered, and bore his non-breathing buddy's full weight across his right shoulder, so Kelly could climb up into the passenger's seat.
Once Chet was situated, the blond paramedic picked his partner's limp and lifeless body up and placed it in the mustached man's lap. Roy turned the valve on their O2 tank's regulator to wide open and then slipped a form-fitting oxygen mask over his partner's nose and mouth. "Bag him!" he breathlessly requested and shoved his friend's long, limp legs clear, so he could close the door.
"I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry," Kelly kept muttering, to the motionless fireman cradled in his arms. Upon hearing Roy's shouted order, Chet reluctantly pulled both of his arms free. He grabbed Gage's O2 mask with his left hand and kept it pressed firmly in place. His right hand grasped the Ambu-bag and he obediently began squeezing it. 'One—one thousand. Two—one thousand. Three—one-thousand…'
Roy raced around the front of the Squad and slipped in behind the wheel. Dusk was now rapidly descending upon them. So he flicked the truck's headlights on, before igniting its engine, and ramming its tranny into reverse.
Both of Station 51's firetrucks began to carefully, but rapidly, retreat—about 1,500 feet.
"Tilt his head back just a bit," DeSoto advised. "It'll open up his airway a little more."
Chet did as directed. The fireman felt their unconscious friend's chest rising and falling from the force of the Ambu-bag's contractions.
Following a few dozen forced breaths of pure oxygen, Gage's chest suddenly heaved all on its own.
The Ambu-bagger's vision blurred. "Hey, Jo-ohn…I thought you said you would never sit in my lap…"
"Shut…Shut…up…Chet," John quietly requested, his already weak, and incredibly hoarse, voice muffled even more by the oxygen mask that was being kept tightly clamped over his nose and mouth.
Kelly's bushy eyebrows arched upwards. "Well! What d'yah know! Sounds like Old Jelly Ass, here, just might make it, after all!"
"Shu—Shut up…Chet," the paramedic seated in his lap promptly repeated.
His rescuers turned to one another and traded grins.
Stoker braked Big Red to a stop, just outside the allotted safety perimeter.
Hank Stanley—and his crew of two—climbed down from the Engine and started donning their SCBAs. The Captain also pulled a pair of binoculars and a small handbook from one of the pumper's side compartments.
DeSoto threw his driver's door open, baled out of the truck and began grabbing their equipment cases. "Keep bagging him, Chet!"
With his air-pack now in place, and his regulator switched over to positive pressure, Stanley stepped up to Squad 51's open passenger window. "How's he doin'?" the Captain anxiously inquired—for the second time that shift—his voice also sounding somewhat muffled by his air mask.
"He's regained consciousness and is breathin' on his own," Roy relievedly replied, as he came stepping up with the Bio-phone and their drug box. "I'll know more, once I've taken his vitals and contacted Rampart."
Stanley just stood there for a few solemn, silent moments, staring out at the injured young fireman through the clear plastic shield of his facemask. If the Captain didn't know better, he might've found himself buying into this whole 'lucky' pen business, himself. He gripped Gage's right wrist with a gloved hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Take it easy, pal. Roy, here'll have you at the hospital in no time."
John's eyes were burning too badly to open them, and speaking had also produced a great deal of discomfort. So the paramedic simply nodded. 'The hospital. Great!' He positively dreaded having to face Dixie again. 'Why'd I hafta go and lose my lucky pen?'
Hank gave the young man's wrist a final squeeze of reassurance and then turned to Lopez. "Marco, my man! What d'yah say we go see what we've got?" the Captain proposed, and gave the DOT's 'Emergency Response Guidebook' in his right coat pocket a couple a' pats.
The lineman smiled behind his faceshield and then followed the fire officer off down the freeway.
With the help of that handy little handbook, they would—hopefully—be able to identify the spilt toxin, and then safely contain it.
The two firemen climbed up one of the ridges that lined the freeway and followed it to the scene of the accident. The Captain spotted a semi tractor-trailer lying on its side and raised the binoculars in his right hand to eye-level. The DOT I.D. # on the overturned tanker turned out to be 1660. Three other white, diamond-shaped placards, all bearing skull and crossbones' symbols, read TOXIN, POISON and INHALATION HAZARD.
Roy was right! They were dealing with some pretty nasty stuff!
Hank whipped his leather gloves off and thumbed through the DOT's guidebook. He found the I.D. number and began reading aloud. "Nitric Oxide—a Class A. poison. At high concentration NO converts to NO3 upon exposure to air, within a few seconds. NO3 is also a lethal gas, whose mode of action is to cause fatal reflex choking."
Well, that would certainly explain why none of the people they'd seen down below were moving. They were all dead…including the two CHP officers who had initially responded to the multi-car pileup.
The Captain exchanged a grave glance with Lopez. Then he pocketed the handbook and pulled out his HT. "L.A., Engine 51. We have a Class A. poison leak here…with multiple Code F's. Nitric Oxide. DOT # 1660…"
Roy was in the process of contacting the hospital with his partner's vitals, when his Captain's call came over their truck's radio. His hands shook a little, as he inserted the call stick and picked up the handset. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. Do you copy?"
"Rampart Base," Dr. Brackett quickly came back. "Go ahead, 51…"
Kel listened, attentively, as Roy DeSoto read off his 28-year-old, male victim's vitals.
The paramedic then proceeded to inform them that his patient was his partner, and that Johnny had just been gassed with Nitric Oxide.
The physician's face filled with surprise and his dark eyes about doubled in size. He saw one of his colleagues standing just outside the Base Station, and motioned him in. "Nitric Oxide poisoning, Joe!"
Joe Early grabbed the L.A. County Fire Department 'Poisonous Gases' guidebook and frantically began flipping through its many pages. "Here it is!" the doctor declared, and started speed-reading.
*SECTION I – Overview of Nitric Oxide (NO) and Nitrogen Tri-oxide (NO3)
CLASS "A" POISON GASES - Rescue Teams must have air packs (SCBA).
WARNING: At levels of 1,000 to 750 parts per million, 15 seconds exposure to nitrogen tri-oxide can prove lethal by reflex choking, if not rescued.
Nitric oxide converts to nitric acid when in contact with moisture, making it extremely irritating to the eyes, nose and throat.
SECTION II - Toxicological Properties of Materials
ROUTE OF ENTRY:
[X] Skin Contact
[X] Skin Absorption
[X] Eye Contact
[X] Inhalation Acute
[X] Inhalation Chronic
[X] Ingestion
WARNING: CLASS A. POISON GASES
Extremely dangerous if inhaled, due to blood poisoning.
A fatal dose of Nitric Oxide, a CLASS A POISON, may be
inhaled with no smell or warning symptoms during exposure.
In air, nitric oxide (NO) slowly converts to nitrogen
tri-oxide (NO3) which is also a CLASS A POISON.
SECTION III - First Aid Measures
Eyes: Wash promptly with copious amounts of water
for 15 minutes keeping eyelids apart. - Call a
physician. Repeat eye wash.
Skin: Wash immediately in emergency shower, then
remove contaminated clothing and shoes. - Call a physician
immediately. Wash affected area with mild soap. Treat high
exposure as for inhalation. - Do not use ointments. - Wash
contaminated clothing before re-use and discard shoes.*
The physician's rapidly scrolling finger finally reached 'Inhalation', and he immediately began reading aloud. "Inhalation Hazards: Nitric oxide (NO) is a potentially lethal Class A. poison which decomposes in air into nitrogen tri-oxide (NO3), also a potentially lethal Class A poison. The first prevents oxygen transport by the blood while the second seriously impairs lung function or causes reflex choking to death. Odor is not a reliable warning and many symptoms are delayed, so a fatal overexposure may not initially exhibit dangerous symptoms. There is a high degree of synergy in their toxicology making prompt treatment crucial.
Carry (do not allow to walk) victim to fresh air. Have victim breathe fresh air (oxygen is an antidote) in all cases, as hard as possible. Give oxygen immediately. Call an ambulance and advise them of case of blood poisoning due to nitric tri-oxide. Give artificial respiration with supplemental oxygen, if breathing stops. Do not delay the patient's transport to the hospital. ALL CASES OF SUSPECTED EXPOSURE REQUIRE HOSPITALIZATION, BECAUSE SYMPTOMS MAY NOT BE IMMEDIATELY APPARENT. EARLY EVALUATION AND TREATMENT ARE CRUCIAL."
Kel quickly fingered the call button. "Did you get all that, 51?"
Roy pressed the send button on their Bio-phone's handset. "Squad 51…10-4, Rampart. We'll pump pure oxygen into him as fast as we can!" He released the call button and addressed Kelly. "Keep bagging him, Chet! Don't bother counting—just squeeze! We've got to force all the pure oxygen we can into him!"
Chet nodded and immediately did as directed.
Five oxygen-filled minutes later…
Roy motioned that it was okay for the Ambu-bagger to slow down…a bit.
"Whoa-oah…" John Gage grinned and broke into his own loopy rendition of a current Top 40 tune by some British rock band. "Love is like oxygen," the paramedic sang, beneath his fogged up O2 mask. "You get too much, you get too high. Not enough and you're gonna die-ie-ie-ie-ie," he continued, until he, mercifully, ran out of air.
His audience winced in aural agony.
"Speakin' a' dyin'…" Chet suddenly chimed in. "Your 'high' notes are killin' us here."
John's caretakers traded grins, as the 'high' crooner began to giggle…and cough…at the same time.
"Keep breathing—deeply!" DeSoto requested, prior to passing Kelly several plastic bottles of sterile water. "Chet, you wanna start irrigating his eyes," he ordered more than asked. "Rampart wants us to flush them for, at least, fifteen minutes. Brackett is also asking for an update on vitals…" he added, and stuck the tips of his stethoscope back in his ears.
Chet nodded and promptly pulled the rubber stopper from one of the plastic bottles in his lap. He pried their patient's bloodshot left eye open and then used his right thumb and index finger to keep it that way. "Hopefully, this'll help..." he muttered, and began pouring the sterile water into John's already watering eye.
Gage drew a deep breath of pure oxygen into his lungs and tried his best to ignore the intense burning in his pried-open peeper. Instead of groaning, the hurting—and still high—young man grinned again and immediately launched into an old Johnny Nash song. "I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. I can see allllllll obstacles in my way. Gone are the da-ark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Sun-Shiny da-ay…"
The eye irrigator suppressed a slight smile.
It was now almost totally dark out.
"Whatever you say, babe," Kelly mumbled beneath his breath. "Whatever you sa-ay…"
TBC
Author's notes:
"Love Is Like Oxygen" is off the 1978 album, "Level Headed", and it is sung by the British rock band, Sweet. Yes. It's a real Sweet song. ;)
"I Can See Clearly Now" is a Johnny Nash single from 1972.
** Info gleaned from the web and tweaked...ever so slightly. ;)
I've had a 'bug' for the past five days. But I am now feeling a tad bit better. So the sixth and final part 'should' soon be posted. :D I haven't forgotten my other E! stories. But this one demanded that it be written up—before it was forgotten. :D