Chapter 13
THEO
“It’s stations day.”
I arrived at the station at nine and was met by Mac, the chief of the volunteer fire department. As we walked through the bay area, he pointed out each fire truck and piece of rescue equipment.
“I’m sure you saw the blood donation bus.”
I nodded. I couldn’t miss the rig with a photo of a woman giving blood on the side of it. No one could, which meant good advertising.
“The nurses who run the bus are organized and well prepared, but the newer EMTs will practice vitals before and after someone gives blood.”
He pointed out the doors to the front parking area. Cones had been set up creating a one-way path for cars, like a drive thru. “That’s for car seat installation and check. Quick in and out.”
I nodded again. There wasn’t much to say. The guy and his crew had this well organized. With the firefighters in either all navy, with t-shirts with HVFD in huge letters across the back, or in heavy-duty bunker pants and boots, they were easy to identify.
“The real fun’s happening out back.” He grinned and his impressive mustache curled up at the ends.
He was probably my age, maybe a little older.
Rugged in appearance, as if he lifted huge fire truck tires for exercise.
He had probably thirty pounds on me of solid muscle, but I could probably run farther.
Which meant if there was a bear chasing us, I’d outrun the fire chief.
Except he’d probably stand his ground and punch the beast in the nose.
He cut between two gleaming fire trucks and out the huge, open garage door in the back.
Two totalled cars were resting in the middle of the back lot.
Men and a few women, all turned out in their firefighting gear, including helmets and safety goggles, were placing emergency tools on a tarp beside each one.
I recognized the Jaws of Life, an ax, and a pry bar.
“I don’t get to see this side of MVAs,” I commented.
“All set, Chief,” a man called. His t-shirt said lieutenant on the front, although the letters disappeared as he zipped up his bunker coat. “Hey, Doc,” he called to me.
I raised my hand in hello as Mac nodded in response.
“Ready to have some fun?” he asked, slapping me on the shoulder. It was a brisk morning, but perfect weather if suited up in the thick bunker gear.
“Sure.”
“Good. You’re victim number one. See Gant over there and he’ll get you suited up.”
I arched a brow. I expected to be doing some pretend resuscitation or intubating or something. “Victim?”
He nodded. “You’re going into the back of that car and we’re going to rescue you. We’ll try not to poke you with a tool. If we cut off your arm or break your neck practicing our medical skills, you’ll be able to tell us what we’re doing wrong.”
“If I’m going to get poked this morning, I’ll give blood.”
“You can do that after the training. We have thirty minutes to get you out to stay within the golden hour to ensure we can transport the patient to docs like you in time.”
He referred to the immediate window of time after an emergency during which chances of preventing death by getting someone to medical care was the highest.
“The slower team buys dinner and drinks later.”
The man I imagined was victim number two just finished suiting up in bunker gear and awkwardly climbing through a broken passenger window on one of the totaled cars.
A wool blanket was handed in after him, then flung over his head.
Since he was only a pretend victim it was obvious they wanted to shield him from broken glass or any other fun debris from the extrication.
The firefighters grabbed their tools, got organized and got busy. The revving of power equipment cut through the peaceful fall morning.
“Claustrophobic?” he shouted over the noise.
“Not yet, but I might be after this.”
He laughed.
I was serious.
“Let me guess, a trauma surgeon’s idea of fun is sharing x-rays of the worst impalements?”
Unfortunately, he was probably right. The things I’d seen, and many of the impalements were intentional, sexual and through the anus, were pretty crazy.
Instead of answering, because I figured the question was rhetorical since he already knew the truth, I countered, “And this is your idea of fun?”
My brow never went down the entire time he talked. He and I both did our best to save lives, but the difference between his kind and mine was clear. He did the real saving and I just ensured they stayed alive.
“Hell, yeah.”
“Come on.”
He took me over to the unoccupied totalled car and introduced me to the group as I put on the borrowed bunker gear, piece by piece. Five men and one woman. All young. Fit. Excited.
I listened as they talked through their action plan, then was helped into the car.
I had to climb through the front windshield on my stomach, then slither between the two front seats, only narrowly missing losing my balls on a stick shift before settling into the back seat.
The ceiling was crumpled down and it was fucking tight.
Through the dirty windows I saw the team grabbing their tools.
Mac stuck his head in the front window and shouted over the power generator that just kicked in.
“You good?” he asked as I settled the borrowed helmet on my head, then tugged the safety goggles down from the brim.
“I’ll buy the entire crew food and drinks if they get me out of here in under fifteen minutes.”
He grinned and handed me the wool blanket, just like the other fake victim had received. “Now’s when I tell you you’re joining me at my kid’s school on Monday. Career day.”
I took the blanket, then stilled. “What?”
He grinned and his mustache twitched. “Career day. You. Me. Monday.”
“I’d rather give blood in the bloodmobile,” I muttered, but he heard me.
“Why’d you become a family doc then, Doc?”
“I’m thinking I may have had a mini stroke before I said yes,” I muttered, looking around at my surroundings.
Totaled car, hopefully competent firefighters wielding the Jaws of Life and other ridiculously sharp and pneumatic-driven power tools.
“If I say no to career day, will you still get me out of here?” I yelled, then tossed the blanket over me.
I wasn’t sure if he was an asshole or really fucking devious.
Make new friends, Jeff had said. Right.