A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm
Chapter 16
Johnny reached over his head pulling down two coffee cups from the cabinet and setting them on the counter top beside the stove. "Black, right Mike?"
"Yes…thanks, Johnny." Mike shifted in his seat so as to face the paramedic he was answering when a muffled shout caught his attention.
The bumping sound that followed the shout for help caused Roy to jerk his head up from reading the morning paper. "What the…?" Roy began, when suddenly Johnny's expletive seemed to finish his thought.
"Shit!" Johnny danced around the coffee the noise had caused him to spill on the counter top and floor.
"Was that Chet?" Marco's dark eyes widened in disbelief as he shoved his chair away from the table and stood up.
The group of four firefighters jumped into action without a single word spoken amongst the group; the commotion leaving Larry, Chet's replacement, dumbfounded by how each man seemed to know exactly what to do as if this were an everyday occurrence.
Johnny swiftly set the coffee pot down in the sink then rushed on the heels of his partner through the kitchen door. Marco ran to the far side of the squad pulling open the compartment doors and removing the orange biophone, drug box and oxygen tank.
Mike turned quickly to the right as he exited the kitchen behind Marco and reached for the microphone. "LA, Station 51. We have a still alarm. Code I – repeat, a still alarm. Code I. Respond an ambulance to our quarters. Station status - unavailable."
"10-4, Station 51." Sam Lanier spun around in his chair, quickly dispatching a Mayfair ambulance to Station 51.
Roy rushed into the captain's office stunned to see Chet's panic-stricken face, his back against the filing cabinet. The lineman's arms were looped around Hank's chest, grasping the taller man's forearms and supporting him as they both slowly slid to the floor; Hank's head slumped down and his chin nearly touching his chest.
"Help me! He…he just stood up and fainted or somethin'!" Chet's blue eyes were like saucers and his face was pale, mustache twitching in a tight grimace.
Johnny and Roy flanked their captain, carefully pulling him out of Chet's arms and laying him on the floor. Roy instinctively reached for Hank's wrist and neck to check for a pulse as Johnny laid a hand on his abdomen to count his respirations. The dark haired paramedic then clicked his pen light and used his thumb to gingerly peel back his captain's eyelids to check his pupillary response. Finding both pupils reacting normally to light, he returned his pen to his shirt pocket then proceeded with a sternal rub to try to elicit some type of response from the unconscious man.
"Here you go," Marco huffed, setting the biophone down next to Johnny and standing up the oxygen cylinder next to Hank's ashen face.
"Put that mask on him at eight liters," Roy instructed Marco as he accepted the drug box. He removed the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff seeing Marco pulling the tubing and mask from the olive green canister and placing them strategically on the unconscious man. Roy quickly wrapped the cuff around Hank's upper arm then placed the bell of the stethoscope in the crook of the limp arm held in his grasp. He pumped the bulb just as Johnny made contact with Rampart.
"Rampart this is squad 51. How do you read?"
Roy released the pressure pulling the stethoscope from his ears and allowing it to dangle around his neck.
"Loud and clear 51," replied Dixie McCall's smoky voice.
"146/86, pulse 88." Roy looked at his partner knowing Johnny had checked Hank's respirations.
"Rampart, we have a male victim, code I, approximately 38 years old, victim of a syncopal episode. He is unconscious with no response to pain. BP is 146/86, pulse 88, respirations 16. Skin is warm and flushed. We have him on eight liters of O2 now," Johnny reported in his most professional voice although he was fighting to keep the fear out of it.
"51, does the patient have any history of cardiac problems or hypertension?"
The sound of Dr. Brackett's deep voice asking the dreaded questions caused both paramedics to look up into Mike's anxious face. Mike worriedly shrugged his shoulders.
"Uh, Rampart, be advised the victim is Cap'n Stanley. We are unaware of any cardiac issues."
"10-4, 51. Start an IV D5W and send me an EKG strip," Dr. Brackett ordered.
"10-4…IV D5W and preparing to send you a strip," Johnny repeated.
"I'll get it," Marco said turning and rushing past Chet's replacement standing in the doorway, mouth agape.
Mike reached down assisting Chet up from the place he had plopped down while Johnny began quickly unbuttoning Hank's light blue uniform shirt. He reached around his waist and withdrew his shears, cutting open the thin undershirt with ease.
"I..I dunno what coulda happened?" Chet stuttered to his engineer.
"Take it easy," Mike reassured him relinquishing his grip on the younger man's forearm. "He's in good hands."
"Here's the datascope and IV box," Marco said kneeling down beside the working duo then backed out of the way.
Roy peeled off the backing on the sticky pads, grateful he found patches of sparse chest hair where he needed to place the pads on Hank's chest. Johnny attached the wires to the pads and both men held their breaths hoping their captain's heart was beating as strongly as theirs.
"Rampart this is squad 51…sendin' you a strip now…this'll be lead 2," Johnny said hanging up the black receiver. Meanwhile, Roy peeled open the ordered bag of fluid and began tearing off the necessary strips of tape readying them by stationing them along his thigh.
E!
Something was definitely wrong; Hank felt a hard cold sensation on his back and could hear unusual noises and mumblings around him. Darkness permeated and something was covering his nose and mouth giving him the feeling of being held in a tightly enclosed space. Suddenly, tightness gripped his arm with increasing pressure and a piercing pain burned the back of his left hand.
"Mmm," he groaned trying to open his dry mouth. "Ugghh."
"Cap? Cap'n Stanley, can ya hear me?" Johnny asked while Roy began to tape down the IV along the back of Hank's hand.
"51, we're reading a normal sinus rhythm. Repeat pain stimulus check. Are there any signs of a head injury?"
"He didn't hit his head," Chet spoke up. "I caught him before he went down."
"Negative on the head injury," Johnny informed Dr. Brackett.
"Hank Stanley, open your eyes!" Mike leaned over Johnny and raised his voice commandingly. He was rewarded by a pair of hazel eyes peering up at him through partially opened lids.
"Mi…Mike?" he rasped.
"Easy Cap…you ah, you kinda went out on Chet earlier," Roy said patting his captain lightly on the shoulder.
"Rampart…he's regaining consciousness now…we concur with your reading of normal sinus rhythm."
"10-4, 51…keep him on O2 and transport immediately. Repeat vitals every three minutes and notify us of any changes."
"10-4, Rampart." Johnny hung up the receiver and began packing up the biophone just as the ambulance pulled to a stop on the concrete apron of the station.
"I'll get 'em," Chet said shuffling out the office toward the raised bay door.
E!
Hank blinked his eyes trying to clear the blurriness. Something was swinging rapidly just above his eyes making his dizziness even worse. Finally, as his vision cleared, he could make out the faces of his two paramedics and realized that a stethoscope was dangling over his face as Roy reached over him to check the oxygen flow. He tried to lick his lips to speak but was stopped by another familiar voice.
"Just try to relax, Cap."
Hank looked into the blue eyes of his second in command and offered a weak nod.
Johnny turned quickly around as the Mayfair attendants bumped the door on their way into the small room. "Give us a hand, Mike."
Marco took over packing up the supplies as Mike, Roy, Johnny and the attendants loaded Hank onto the gurney. A beige blanket was spread over him and he was buckled in securely. Marco laid the oxygen tank between Hank's legs and followed with the biophone. Larry returned the rest of the equipment to the squad while Johnny followed beside the gurney, D5W bag held overhead.
Roy climbed into the back of the ambulance ready to receive his patient. Johnny handed off the IV bag while the two attendants positioned the gurney inside and Marco stowed the equipment Roy might need in route.
"I'll be right behind ya," Johnny verified then shut the door slapping it twice before jogging back to the squad.
"Call us." Mike's request was unnecessary but somehow he felt better as he watched Johnny nod his head in acknowledgement. He then stepped back beside Marco and Larry as they watched their captain being carried away followed closely by their squad.
E!
Chet had taken the opportunity to slip out the back door unnoticed by the rest of the crew as Hank was being loaded into the ambulance. He eased his van down the driveway stopping just at the edge of the building. He watched the ambulance pull out heading to the right with Johnny right behind it in the squad, lights and sirens blaring. He then eased up to the street and made the left turn carrying him away from the station and toward his next destination.
He made the turn which would take him to the San Diego Freeway just as a green station wagon pulled to a stop along the street near Station 51. A pretty young woman with shoulder length brown hair pulled back in a relaxed ponytail slowly stepped out of the car pulling a peach colored Tupperware container from the passenger's seat and placing it on the hood. She reached back in hoisting her hobo style purse onto her shoulder then slammed the door shut. She stood up, feeling the usual twinge from her lower back down below her left knee and yet smiling to herself through the discomfort. She scooped the Tupperware container up and headed toward the front entrance.
Mike was standing inside the captain's office, his mind reeling from the events of the morning, when he heard a faint female voice calling.
"Hello?"
He turned around, sticking his head out the office doorway and his face lit up. "Good morning, may I help you?"
"Um, yes," she lifted up the container in her arms. "I, ah…I just wanted to drop this off and thank you men for your service." She smiled at the handsome engineer while looking around inconspicuously for the man she really wanted to see.
"Oh, wow…thank you so much," Mike said in a pleasant voice. "Would you like to join us for some coffee?" He hoped the pretty distraction would lift the spirits of the men as they waited to hear news of their captain's fate.
"Oh, uh…I don't want to impose. Um…is," she hesitated, curling a loose strand of hair behind her left ear. "Is Mr. Kelly here?"
Mike accepted the container from her then knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. While it wasn't uncommon for a pretty face to stop by the station asking for the paramedics, it was a bit unusual for someone to be asking specifically for Chet. "Um…actually, he was here a few minutes ago," he stuttered remembering how quickly the young man had disappeared after the ambulance left. "But…we, uh…we had an emergency here a few minutes ago and he's…well, he left right after the ambulance." Mike was silently kicking himself for stuttering, not wanting to appear inept around the young woman. "Can I give him a message?" Mike's curiosity was getting the better of him.
"Uh, no…no message. I, I hope you all enjoy it," she nodded her head in the direction of the container Mike still held in his hands.
"Oh, I'm sure we will. Thank you, Miss…?"
"Marks…Ms. Caroline Marks," she corrected. "Thank you again," she offered with a slight wiggle of her fingers then turned around leaving behind her a stunned engineer.
Mike watched as Caroline walked gingerly down the concrete apron toward the station wagon. He thought he detected a slight limp in her gait but wasn't sure; his thought processes were somewhat off kilter as he tried to place her face and name. She had said the cake was for the station but then she had specifically asked for Chet. He thought back over all the fires they had responded to recently but couldn't recall ever seeing Caroline at one of them. Suddenly, he felt a pain in his gut as he realized this might be a 'thank you' for Chet's attempted rescue of Kyle Carrigan. Kyle had two sisters so perhaps this was one of them. He hadn't thought to check her left hand for a ring but she had corrected his Miss with a Ms. Perhaps this meant that she was divorced...and available. Then, he chided himself for his uncaring attitude. Fireman Carrigan's family was grieving and would be laying their loved one to rest in twenty-four hours. How could he be thinking of such things during a time like this? Or, maybe she was a neighbor, he surmised. He looked back down at the container in his hands, nodding to the woman who waved once more in his direction as she drove away. He then turned around to take the cake into the kitchen. The smell wafting to his nose made his stomach growl and his mouth water as he thought of how good it would taste with the coffee he, Marco and Larry would be drinking as they awaited word on their captain.
E!
"Any nausea or vomiting?" Dr. Brackett clicked off his pen light and returned it to his pocket then began palpating Hank's head and neck.
"Uh…no, no not really."
"Not really, huh?" Dr. Brackett looked up at Roy and Johnny who stood with their backs leaning against the wall. They both understood the silent question and gestured negatively in response.
"Well, how's your appetite?" Dr. Brackett propped a hand on his hip as he leaned against the gurney.
"Fine," Hank retorted, closing his eyes.
"How much are you drinking each day?"
"None on the job, Doc," Hank smiled, fully realizing that wasn't the type of drinking his doctor was asking about. "Gotta set a…a good 'xample for my…my men over there."
"Well, glad to see you didn't lose your sense of humor when you collapsed," Kel snickered. He did catch the reference to Hank's men being present and he looked over at Dixie who was checking Hank's blood pressure.
"138/82." She returned her gaze to the physician who gave a slight nod toward the door. He gave her a brief smile which she completely understood. "You take care, Hank. I'm gonna take your men down the hall for a cup of coffee while Kel finishes up with you."
Roy and Johnny watched the head nurse saunter across the room in their direction and crook her finger at the two of them. Both understood the beckoning motion and followed her out the door.
"Catch ya later, Cap."
"We'll let the guys know you're feeling better," Roy tossed over his shoulder as he followed his partner out the door.
Kelly Brackett crossed his arms over his chest and allowed his face to assume a serious look. He stared down silently at his patient who was lying with his eyes closed facing the wall. "Alright, Hank. It's just you and me in here now. What's really going on?"
Hank blew out his cheeks knowing that he needed to be honest with his physician. "I, uh…I don't want this getting back to my men…"
Kelly Brackett shifted his weight on his feet fully realizing the seriousness of what he was about to hear. "Doctor patient privileges," he said quietly. "Nothing you tell me goes any further, Hank. I can't treat you properly if you aren't being honest with me. You know how this works."
"Yea…thanks, Doc. I, uh…," he began, struggling to find his voice. He closed his eyes, licked his dry lips and began.
E!
Chet had been driving for over two hours and Mother Nature was reminding him he needed to take a break. He felt bad for leaving without saying anything to the guys but truly he hadn't wanted to discuss his situation any more. The guys would find out soon enough and he simply couldn't face them to tell them his plan. But, guilt over not waiting to find out about Captain Stanley's condition was putting as much pressure on him as his full bladder. Finding a convenience store along the highway, he pulled into a vacant parking spot near the payphone. After relieving himself and buying a cold bottle of Coke and some peanuts, he found some loose change and went into the phone booth to make the call.
E!
"Captain Smith?"
"Hey there, Marco. Long time, no see," the former captain of Station 51 said with a smile reaching out his hand to shake with his former lineman. "It's nice to see you guys again but I wish it was under better circumstances."
"Thanks for coming in, Cap," Johnny spoke around a mouthful of pound cake. "Good to see ya again."
"Well, it's nice to be back." The older man looked around at the familiar faces and realized one face was missing. He was about to ask where Chet was when the phone began to ring.
"I'll get it," Mike offered stepping over to the phone in the day room.
"I'll let dispatch know we're available," Captain Smith replied walking out the kitchen door to the station radio.
"Station 51, Fireman Stoker speaking."
"Hey, Mike. It's Chet. How's, ah, how's Cap doin'?"
"Chet, why'd you leave in such a hurry? I looked around for you and you were gone….and I wasn't the only one looking for you either," Mike teased.
Chet held the phone to his ear and stuck his other hand in his back pocket. He could tell by the light banter that Hank was obviously going to be alright. "Uh, Cap's mad huh?"
"Mad about what?"
Chet shook his head as the conversation was digressing away from the topic he'd called about. "Never mind. Listen, is Cap ok?"
"He's gonna be alright. Roy said that Brackett diagnosed him as being dehydrated so he's gonna be staying at Rampart until tomorrow so he can get fluids. He'll be fine," Mike said remembering the report the paramedics had given once they'd returned to the station. "Hey, guess who's here to replace Cap?"
"Ha, Hookraider right? Glad I'm missing that one," Chet groaned with a hint of sarcasm.
"Nope, Captain John Smith."
Chet's eyes grew wide even though he was alone in the phone booth. "I thought he'd retired or somethin'. Hey, tell him I said 'hello' will ya? I haven't seen him since he left that first year we were at 51's." Chet could feel his mood lighten with the memory of that first year in the new station.
"Hey, and you've been holding out on us, pal," Mike said jokingly.
Chet was confused. "What are you talkin' about, Mike? I came clean the other day and…"
"Whoa, Kelly…no, I'm talking about the pretty brunette who came in here asking for you a little while ago."
Chet felt his mouth go dry as he stood there in stunned silence. "Huh?"
"You know…Ms. Caroline Marks," Mike was hoping the name would jar Chet's memory…and his mouth. Mike wasn't one to snoop but his curiosity about the connection between the Irishman and the cake-wielding lady was getting to him.
"I have no idea what you're talkin' about, man."
"C'mon, Kelly…" Mike was interrupted by the tones sounding before he could finish his sentence. "Ah, gotta go, Chet. I'll call you back later and you can tell me about her."
"Hey, wa-wa-wait a minute. I'm…," Chet tried to explain that he wasn't at home but he heard the click on the other end of the line. "Caroline…Caroline…," he mumbled shaking his head as he set the receiver back in place. He was still mouthing her name when he pulled back the door of the phone booth. He grabbed his coke off the shelf and headed back to his van. He had a long way to go before nightfall and truthfully, he wasn't looking forward to the conversation waiting for him at his parents' home. But now, he had another mystery on his hands. He cranked up his van and pulled back out onto the highway still mumbling to himself. "Who the hell's Caroline Marks?"
E!
A/N: Thanks so much for your continued support through PM's and reviews. I really appreciate it.