Chapter 59
THEO
I ran over, grabbed the Pulaski took from a firefighter before he could give it to Mac.
“What are you doing?” Mac shouted.
“Mallory’s in there!”
Mac grabbed the ax from me and passed it off, then shoved me out of the way. “Get your shit together. It’s our job to get the patients out. You don’t have the gear or the skill. Get your head on straight.”
I wanted to punch him, but he was right.
The firefighter–I wasn’t paying any attention to who it was–worked the tool into the seam between the driver door and the frame, right by the pin.
Another firefighter used his booted foot to kick in the shattered windshield.
Another two were doing the same on the other side.
All wore thick bunker gear, heavy leather gloves, helmets, and even protective goggles.
I had on latex gloves.
Police cars pulled up along with another fire truck.
A whistle pierced the air and I turned to follow the sound. “Doc, over here!”
I glanced at Mallory’s car again.
“Go do your job.” Mac slapped me on the shoulder, then turned away from me to get to work.
Fuck. FUCK!
Mallory was in that car, and I had to walk away. I had to get my shit together, had to triage, and that meant going where I was called and assessing. I had to wait to help Mallory and whoever else was in the CRV.
I ran over to the firefighter helping the man in the truck. “Fifty-three, wearing his seat belt. BP is one forty over ninety, resps are ninety. Complaining of upper chest pain, most likely a broken clavicle due to seat belt. No allergies to medicines, no drugs or alcohol usage.”
The EMT gave me a thorough report as I assessed the man.
“Pen light?”
The EMT handed me one from the med kit and I flashed it back and forth in front of his face. “What’s your name, sir?”
He pulled the oxygen mask back to answer. “Donald Naimar.”
“Did you hit your head on the steering wheel or windshield?” I asked, feeling his skull as I took in that his car had no airbag.
“No.”
“Doc, I’ll take over here.” I turned and there was one of the paramedics from the Saturday training. “One patient’s about to be pulled from the car and you’ll be needed.”
“Donald, you’re in good hands with these guys.”
I gave him a quick but reassuring smile before I ran for the car, stripping my gloves as I went. I pulled new ones from my pocket–Mac was fucking smart–and saw that it was the passenger who was being placed on a backboard.
“Careful! Grab my purse. I need my cigarettes if you’re taking me in an ambulance.” That was not Mallory.
“Ma’am, please remain as still as possible. You’ve been in a car accident, and we don’t know the extent of your injuries.”
“I don’t hurt. Nothing hurts,” she replied as I made it around the car and squatted down beside her laying on the backboard.
I gave her a quick assessment. C-collar on.
Conscious, therefore her heart was beating, and she was breathing.
Her airway was very clear, and she smelled like a liquor cabinet.
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Cheryl.”
“Cheryl, who’s driving the car?”
I peeked in the open doorway, tilting my body to see in. Cheryl said, “My daughter. Mallory,” at the same time I saw her.
Mallory was unconscious, caught in her seatbelt and dangling upside down. Blood dripped from a cut on her temple onto the deflated airbag.
I was pushed out of the way so another rescuer could get into the passenger spot.
I looked to the two EMTs adjusting the straps on the board and placing an oxygen mask over her face.
“She and the man in the truck are both Level 4. Get them both to the ER pronto.”
“On it, Doc.”
I stood, backed up to let the crew work. Cheryl, Mallory’s miserable–and clearly intoxicated–mother was carted off. Not once did she ask after her daughter.
“Breathing!” the woman half in-half out of the upside-down car called.
I sighed, closed my eyes.
I thought of the boy who’d died on my operating table. The one who’d been in a car accident like this one. Who’d been ejected and died.
I didn’t even remember his name.
He was the reason I’d moved to Hunter Valley. Because I’d been numb. Uncaring.
I’d thought quitting and relocating would have changed me.
It didn’t.
Mallory did.
She’d made me see the fun side of things. She was the one who struggled. Suffered. Hurt. Ached. Bled. And I’d never understood. I’d disregarded her feelings, her words. I’d diminished her.
I made her… oh fuck. Nothing.
That’s what I told Verna earlier. That we were nothing.
I grabbed my hair. I made her feel like nothing when she was everything.
“Come on! What’s taking so long?” I shouted.
No one paid me any attention. Everyone was busy doing their jobs and I was standing around with my thumb up my ass.
“C-collar on. Board!”
A backboard was produced and worked into the car through the open passenger door. The straps were rolled up at the sides, ready.
“Cutting the seatbelt on three.” It was Mac calling from the other side. “One. Two. Three!”
Everyone shifted, and I couldn’t see a fucking thing.
Five, then ten seconds passed and then the board was slid out.
“Doc!”
I ran over, dropped to my knees.
“O2. Vitals. Get her strapped down and I want her out of here in thirty. I’ll assess on the way to the ER.”
I ran my hands over her as the straps were put across her, securing her to the board. I lifted the hem of her shirt–the one I recognized her wearing earlier–to look for signs of bruising, felt for possible internal bleeding.
“Ready.”
I stood and moved back out of the way.
“On three.” The firefighters hoisted her in unison and hustled her to the back of the waiting ambulance.
I slid onto the bench beside her, the paramedic at my side. Mac stood between the open back doors, and he gave me a smile. I tipped my chin, then he slammed the doors shut. I heard the slap on the side of the rig and we were off.
I was back in trauma surgeon mode, and this was one patient whose name I knew.
She wouldn’t be a fucking quota, like I told Verna. She was mine. I was going to make her mine, tell her what she meant to me. How much of a dumbass I was.
If she lived.