Radclyffe - Love On Call

No, not ground, still inside, had to get out.

Couldn’t burn. Wouldn’t die in flames.

She crawled, wiping blood from her eyes, peering around for the rest of her unit. Couldn’t find her med kit. Up ahead a Humvee on its side, trailing a glistening line of fuel on the road. Pushed to her feet, staggering, dizzy. Found the door, braced her leg against crumpled metal, felt the edge slice through her BDUs, into her thigh. Ignoring the searing pain, she pulled, strained, finally popped the door. Single occupant, unconscious, strapped in. Couldn’t find her KA-BAR to cut the straps. Worked him free and dragged him up clear, had to stop to vomit, kneeling in the road, the trooper slung over one shoulder. RPGs lit the sky. She staggered for cover, fell again, threw her body over the trooper.

“Medic, medic,” she whispered before the dark took her.

*

While Mari waited for Dr. Zapata, the young orthopedist on call, to come in from the suburbs a half an hour or so away, she checked over the pre-op numbers, made sure Antonelli got a consent signed, and explained to the patient and her spouse what they could expect for the rest of the evening.

“Dr. Zapata will go over the surgery in detail,” she said in response to their anxious questions, “but from the experience I’ve had with fractures like this—”

The curtain enclosing the cubicle rattled back with a loud clang, and she glanced over her shoulder, annoyed at being interrupted. Antonelli filled the space between the tiny cubicle and the hall. His face was white.

“We need you out here.”

Mari smiled at the woman with the fractured femur and her worried spouse. “The surgeon will answer the rest of your questions. I’ll be back as soon as I can to check on you.” She stepped aside and closed the curtain. “What’s going on?”

“We just got a STAT call from the sheriff. MVA, two victims en route, both unresponsive.”

“Did you page Abby?”

“Yes.” Antonelli blocked her path as she started toward the trauma bay.

Annoyed, Mari stopped short, already mentally cataloging what needed to be done. “Who’s on for surgery tonight?”

“That asshole Williams. Mari—”

Mari sighed. “I wonder if we could get Flann and Glenn back here from their—”

“Mari, it’s Glenn.”

“What? You already got her?” Mari looked down the hall, expecting to see Glenn stride around the corner with her battle-ready expression, directing everyone to their stations.

“No, no. Listen. The sheriff’s local. He recognized her. One of the victims is Glenn.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Icy fingers squeezed Mari’s throat. Time froze. The sound of her thundering heart drowned out all thought, leaving only primal fear.

“Where is she?”

Mari skirted around Antonelli, shouldered him aside when he tried again to stop her, and raced toward the admitting area. Antonelli, with his longer legs, caught her easily and grasped her arm.

“Don’t.” Mari jerked free, her voice a whip crack in the unnatural silence. Where was everyone? In receiving, waiting for the injured. Waiting for Glenn. No, that couldn’t be. She couldn’t even bring that picture into focus. The vision made no sense, and yet, beneath the denial, a terrible truth tried to bubble free. Nothing lasts—not life, not love, not dreams. “No. No, that it isn’t true. I will not accept that.”

“Mari,” Antonelli said, dropping his hand and keeping pace. “You don’t want to do this. Abby’s on her way down right now. We’ll take care of Glenn.”

Mari stared straight ahead. A crowd of hospital personnel and security guards formed a corridor from the double doors of the emergency room toward the treatment area, ready to escort the victims.

No. Glenn was not a victim, she was everything that a victim wasn’t —a warrior, a leader, a healer. Mari ran outside past the blur of faces, barely slowing enough to clear the half-opened glass doors as they slid back, into the bright glare of the floodlights illuminating the emergency zone in the lot outside receiving. The area was empty save for an emergency van and two parked police cars. The sky was ridiculously clear, moonlit and star-studded. Mockingly beautiful. She scanned the hillside below and the winding road down to the village she’d walked that first night with Glenn.

Antonelli followed her out, stood silent vigil with her.

“Where are they?” Mari asked.

“Two minutes out,” Abby said, coming up behind them. As she spoke, a faint siren wail grew louder, as if summoned. “Mari, take triage, Antonelli, take the trauma bay—”

“Mari can’t triage,” Antonelli said. “I’ll do it.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because they’re…” Antonelli stared helplessly from Mari to Abby.

Abby peered at Mari. “Oh God. All right—yes, Mari, back inside. Let us take care of this.”

“I’m all right.”

“Of course you’re not. As soon as I know what the situation is, I’ll brief you. Until then, you’re backup, non-patient care. I mean it.” Abby blew out a breath, squinted into the dark in the direction of the sirens. “If there was time, I’d get Carrie in here to wait with you…”

“Don’t send me away.” Mari drew in a long breath. “I want to see her. I won’t get in the way. I’ll wait, just please—”

Abby squeezed her shoulder. “The minute she’s stable, I promise.”

Mari turned to go inside, spun back to meet Abby’s gaze. Abby knew, they all knew, what might lie ahead. “I don’t want her to be alone if…”

“We are not going to let that happen. And Glenn will never quit. You know that, if you love her.”

“Yes.” Mari grasped onto Abby’s fierce strength, needing to believe.

“Good. Now I need you inside. Make sure the staff is ready and we’ve got the support teams standing by. Can you do that?”

Mari nodded, stony calm sweeping over her, blunting panic and doubt. The battle had begun. “Yes. Trauma admitting and room two?”

“That sounds good. We don’t know the status of either one.”

A nurse came out to join them. “EMT radioed—they’re coding one of them en route.”

“That one goes to trauma admitting.” Abby pointed at Mari as the night filled with the wail of warring sirens and explosions of red flickering lights cutting through the trees just below them. “Go.”

Mari hesitated, every instinct driving her to stay. Glenn was hurt, alone, and she didn’t know… if you love her . Only her training convinced her she’d be in the way for the first few critical moments. She trusted Abby and the others she’d come to think of as family, and turned on wooden legs to hurry back inside.

Bruce met her halfway down the hall. “Is it true? Is it Glenn?”

“I think so.”

“Flann just called, she and Harper are on their way. Five minutes max.”

“Thank God,” Mari murmured. “Are you ready? You have respiratory here, X-ray?”

“Setting up now.”

“What about the blood bank and the OR?”

“Just about to call.”

“I’ll take the OR, you notify the blood bank.”

Bruce jogged away and Mari saw in her mind’s eye what she knew was happening outside. The emergency vans careening to a stop, doors already swinging open, paramedics jumping out and dragging the gurneys free—the injured strapped down, helpless, panicked, and in pain. All she wanted was to be by Glenn’s side, fighting whatever battle needed to be fought, denying death this one critical time. She shivered, forced the image away, willed herself to think. Do. Do what needed to be done. She punched in the extension to the OR, told them to get anesthesia and OR techs on standby.