“...Cap’s standin’ over by the engine. Mike’s talkin’ to him. Talk about someone blaming himself. He hasn’t said a word, but it’s written all over his face. Cap let you talk him into letting you go in there, when you both knew the chances that you’d come back out were slim.”
Chet’s silent observation in “Not A Good Day to Die” (now posted here from the defunct Juniors Journals for the ‘Make Johnny Cough’ contest) prompted a short sequel. The story continues here from another POV.
BY Sparky
You think they make hospital chairs uncomfortable on purpose?
I know it’s late. I won’t stay long. Just thought I’d come by and see how you’re doin’. You know, the... the rain’s finally stopped. They say it’s gonna be a good day in LA tomorrow. Lots of sunshine, clear skies. A good day. That’s... what we’re hopin’ for, anyway.
Come on, John.
Don’t check out on us now, pal.
I don’t know who’d take it harder. Roy or Chet. I guess they both spent most of the day here. Sorry I... I couldn’t make it sooner. Visiting hours were over a while ago, but Dr. Early said it would be all right if I stayed a few minutes. It seems rank does have its privileges. To be honest, I haven’t been too sure about that today.
You should have seen them. Roy was as calm as Chet was anxious. I watched their faces while they were digging, and wondered what they were thinking. I’ve seen you and Roy work to bring a person back until you’re exhausted, but I’ve never seen Roy more determined not to lose someone than he was out there in the mud and rain last night. I tell you John, I thought Kelly was ready to beat the crap out of you if you hadn’t started breathing again. Neither one gave up for a single minute.
A minute.
I’d started to write my incident report while I was waiting for Roy to call. Wasn’t much else to do at four AM, but I didn’t get very far. It struck me as ironic -- those sixty seconds were the only difference between my writing a report and writing a eulogy.
If we’d been just a minute later-
John, that’s all the time I had to decide whether or not to let you go into that house. I know you asked to go in, but that doesn’t make the fact you didn’t come back out any easier for me to live with. You knew as well as I did how dangerous it was. Maybe my mistake wasn’t sending you in. It was letting you talk me into it. I could have said no. I should have said no.
The Department doesn’t pay me to second guess myself in the field. Hell, that could be deadly. A career-ending flaw for a captain. No, I did what a captain’s supposed to do. I made a quick decision in an emergency situation. A decision that almost cost you your life. They couldn’t begin to pay me enough at four in the morning not to think about that.
Joe Early said the fact you’re running a fever isn’t unusual, given the circumstances, but if it gets much higher, it could be a sign of complications. He said they’re thinkin’ about changin’ your meds. It’s only been twenty-four hours, but the doctors are concerned the antibiotics aren’t doin’ the job.
After all these years and all I’ve seen, I didn’t think there was much that could bother me any more. The amount of mud you swallowed was bad enough, but the idea there were bugs in your lungs makes my skin crawl. How’d Early put it? “There’s a lot of life in mud.” I guess they got as much out as they could. Joe said it was impossible to get everything. All they can do is keep the antibiotics flowing and wait to see if pneumonia or any other infections develop.
No one’s said much about.... Well, one problem at a time, I suppose. When I talked to Roy earlier, I could tell he was really worried, though. As near as we can figure, you went almost four minutes without breathing. They say it could go either way. Just another one of those things we’ll have to wait until you wake up to find out. Funny, isn’t it? We have a habit of telling other people to wait, but we’re not very good at doing it ourselves.
It’s gonna be a long shift tomorrow.
Roy made it sound like it was his fault we didn’t get to you sooner. He seems to think if he’d have gone in there with you, none of this would have happened. He’s wrong. I would have had two of you on my conscience.
John, I... I’m-
Everything’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.
When it stopped raining this afternoon. I went back out there. Not sure why. Just to... just to take a look, I guess. That hillside’s a muddy mess. One man is dead. You’re in the hospital. Three homes are gone. Crews were already busy trying to shore things up so they can open the roads again. I kept thinking it’s another one of those ironies. Firefighters are busier during the rainy season than they are during fire season. Mud and fires don’t have much in common, but-
-what the.... John? Damn it! You’re burnin’ up. John, what’s wrong? Let me... let me get help.
Nurse!
Good god, you’re not breathin’ again.
Nurse!
* * * * * * * *
I can only stay a minute, then they’re making me leave. Dr. Brackett’s been with you for the last hour. He said... uh... he said seizures are more frightening to watch than they are dangerous. That’s an understatement. You scared the livin’ hell out of me.
Of course, you would have one that was dangerous. I guess teaching rescue breathing to an old dog like me came in handy.
Brackett said you were awake for a while, and even though you were still a little out of it, your neuro responses looked good. Your fever’s down and they’ve started you on steroids. He thinks it’ll take a few days before you’re completely out of the woods, but he feels pretty confident you’re gonna be okay.
He also said it was good I was here. Said I saved your life.
I owed you that, John.
You get some rest. I’m sure Roy will be stoppin’ in whenever he can between runs tomorrow.
You know.... I think it's gonna be a good day in LA whether the sun shines or not.
