Chapter 15

 

     Roy DeSoto wasn’t a man who swore very often, but when he was whipped from one end of the Amtrak car to the other, he struggled to his feet while cursing softly, “Jesus!  What the hell happened?”

     The car was filled with screams as panic set in amongst those passengers still waiting to be evacuated.

 

     “Folks!”  Roy called as he made his way back up the aisle. “Folks, calm down!  I need you all to calm down.”

 

     “But what happened?”  A man asked who now had a new gash on his head to match the old one Roy had just finished treating.

 

     “I don’t know, Sir.  Right now let’s just concentrate on getting all of you out of here.”

 

     “Sounds like a damn good idea to me.”

 

     To me, too, Mister.

 

     Roy looked up as Ted Kelters, a paramedic from 128’s, rushed in.

 

     “What’s going on, Ted?”

    

     The red headed man shook his head at Roy.   He grabbed him by the elbow and moved him out of hearing range of the passengers.  Ted kept his voice to just above a whisper.

 

     “We’ve just been hit by another train.”

 

     “What!  How the hell did that happen?”

 

     “I don’t know.  When we arrived we were told dispatch had contacted the railroad people and notified them to halt all trains coming through here, but evidently someone didn’t get the message.”

 

     “Evidently,” Roy agreed, as he rubbed a hand over his forehead in an attempt to ward off the headache that was starting. “Anyone hurt?”

     “We’re checking right now.  Fortunately, we had most of the people in the first five cars out, plus the engine crew.  I think everyone who was left just got knocked around.  I came back here to see if you were okay.”

 

     “I’m fine, just sporting a few bruises.  But I could use help if someone’s available.  These people are really starting to panic.  I’d like to get them out as quick as possible.”

 

     “I’ll see what I can do.”

     “Anyone hurt on the other train?”

     “No.  It was a freight train so just had a couple guys in the engine and then the guy in the caboose.   They all hopped out on their own accord, as confused as we are as to how this happened. They didn’t know anything about the tracks being shut down.  The bus is for shit though.”

 

     Roy paled.  He hadn’t thought about the fact that what was left of the bus would have been in-between the two trains.

 

     “Was everyone out?”

     “Of the bus?”

     “Yes.”

 

     “I’m not really sure.  I saw Charlie Dwyer a few minutes ago. . .right before the train hit, taking some guys from the bus to triage, so maybe.  I know they’ve been working on the bus victims pretty steadily for the past couple hours.”

 

     “Did you see Johnny?”

     “No, but then I didn’t really look for him.  There’s hundreds of people out there, Roy.  Doctors, nurses, off-duty firefighters and paramedics.  I coulda’ passed him right by and not noticed.  Why?”

 

     “He. . .he was the first paramedic on the bus.  We were the first to arrive at the scene.  I took the train injuries, he took the bus injuries.”

 

     Ted didn’t know what to say, so offered Roy a smile that was meant to reassure.

 

     “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine.  Like I said, I just saw Charlie and I know he was working in the bus, too.”  Ted patted Roy’s arm. “Knowing Gage and Dwyer they’re sitting in the shade right now downing a couple cold Cokes and flirting with the women from the auxiliary while you and I keep slaving away in here.”

     Roy nodded and gave the man a small smile.

 

     “Yeah.  Sure.  You’re probably right.”

 

     “Come on.  I’ll stick around and help you so we can get these people out of here and you can go find that partner of yours.”

 

     “Thanks, Ted.”

 

     “No problem.”

 

     The two men worked together, finishing what Roy had started alone.  Roy kept glancing out the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Johnny.  With everyone running back and forth, and most of them in turn-out coats and helmets, it was hard to tell who was who.

 

     He’s fine. Like Ted said, he’s probably somewhere with Charlie.  Helping in triage, or on another car on this train, or helping man one of the hoses.  Or yeah, maybe even flirting with some girl while drinking a Coke.

 

     Roy did his best to put his worry for his partner aside as he returned to the business of treating the injured.

 

 

Chapter 16

 

     Hank Stanley would realize later how ridiculous they all must have looked.  When the firefighters at the scene first took notice of the freight train barreling toward the bus half of them ran toward it waving their arms as though they could stop it on sheer will-power alone, while half of them dropped their hoses and ran away from it because they were working close enough to be seriously injured. 

 

     Sparks flew from the wheels as the brakeman frantically tried to stop the train.  The train’s momentum was slowed by the man’s quick actions, but he didn’t have enough forewarning to bring the locomotive to a complete halt.  The force of the crash threw Hank to the ground.  He ignored the pain from his scraped palms as he scrambled back to his feet.  The bus that had been bent like an accordion before was now smashed between the two train engines.  Hank knew exactly what paramedic was still on that bus as he stared open mouthed at the wreckage.

 

     “John.  Oh my God, John.”

          

___________________________

 

     Dixie looked up from a patient she was monitoring when a whistle blew followed closely by men shouting.  Firefighters ran by the tent waving their arms in the air while yelling, “No!  No!  Stop!  Stop!”

 

     Kelly Brackett caught Dixie’s eye from where he was working on his own patient. 

 

     “What’s going on?”

 

     “I don’t--” Before Dixie could finish her sentence an explosion caused her eardrums to crackle and the ground rocked beneath her feet.  She grabbed the side of the gurney to steady herself.

 

     “What the hell. . .” Doctor Brackett stepped into the aisle.  “What was that?”

 

     Charlie Dwyer raced into the tent, his eyes bouncing from one person to the next.

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny!”  His frantic gaze stopped on Dixie and Doctor Brackett.  “Have either of you seen John Gage?”

 

     “No,” Dixie replied.

 

     “Not all morning,” Brackett said.  “I thought he was with Roy on the train.”

 

     “No.  He’s on the bus,” Charlie’s face drained of all color.  “He’s on the goddamn bus and another train just hit it.”

     As one, Doctor Brackett and Dixie exclaimed, “What?” 

    

     “A train.  Another train just hit the bus!”

 

     Brackett waved two nurses to the patients he and Dixie had been working on.

 

     “Come on, Dix!  Let’s see what we can do to help.”

 

     The minute Dixie caught sight of the bus her heart sank.  If Johnny was still in there he was dead.  No one, not even the often injured and seemingly indestructible John Gage, could still be alive in what now looked like a flattened tin can.

 

     The woman brought a hand to her mouth as her footsteps slowed to a walk.

 

     “Oh, Johnny.  Oh, Johnny, no.”

 

     Dixie recalled the last conversation she had with the paramedic, and was forced to fight back the urge to cry. 

 

     I yelled at him over a damn coffee cup.  A coffee cup.  And I never got to apologize.  Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry.  I’m so terribly sorry.

 

     Because she didn’t know what else to do, Dixie joined Brackett fifty yards from the bus.  She could tell Kelly’s thoughts were similar to hers.  If Johnny was in there, the likelihood that he was alive was almost non-existent. Nonetheless; the doctor let Captain Stanley know he and Dixie were available to offer whatever assistance they could.  The captain gave a grim nod, then returned to shouting instructions to his men.

 

 

Chapter 17

    

     When Chet and Marco had seen the freight train flying towards them they’d done what any smart firefighters would, dropped their hoses and ran for their lives.  Like everyone else in the near vicinity, the impact had thrown them to the ground.  They immediately clambered to their feet, momentarily unable to believe what they’d just witnessed.

 

     Chet started running for the bus.  “Johnny!  Johnny!”

 

     Marco was at Chet’s heels, snaring the elbow of the man’s turn-out coat.

 

     “Chet!  Chet, wait!  Let’s wait and see what Cap wants us to do!”

 

     Chet stopped, twisting his elbow from Marco’s grasp.

 

     “Johnny’s in there!  He never came out!  Just Dwyer.  It was only Dwyer who came out, Marco!  Johnny was still inside.  Dwyer said there were ten more victims yet and Johnny was staying with them!”

 

     “I know that.”  Marco spared a glance at the flattened bus he could barely make out between the two train engines.  “But we still have to see what Cap wants us to do.”

     “He’ll want us to get Johnny out of there, that’s what he’ll want!”

 

     Before the argument could proceed, Captain Stanley raced by waving an arm.

 

     “Chet!  Marco!  Come with me!”

 

     If the situation hadn’t been so grave, Chet would have given Marco a self-satisfied smirk as they ran along behind their captain.  But it was grave, and the last thing Chet was thinking about at this moment was petty personal victories. He preferred they have a big victory.  Like finding John Gage alive.

 

 

___________________________

 

     Johnny woke to find himself in his most hated sleeping position - on his stomach.  He couldn’t understand why his face was moist, but maybe he’d dropped to his bunk the moment they’d returned from a fire and was still wet from the hoses.  That would be odd, because normally he’d take a shower to wash off the smell of smoke and sweat, but if Chet was hogging the shower, like was sometimes the case, maybe he grew too tired to wait.

 

     A more alert form of consciousness came when Johnny tried to roll over.  He screamed, the pain in his right side made movement impossible.  When the pain subsided the ability to determine his whereabouts became easier.  He remembered being on the bus and helping the injured men, but what had happened to cause him to now be amongst those hurt he wasn’t sure.

 

     Man, Cap’s gonna kill me if I did something stupid like fell.

 

     Johnny wasn’t sure how a fall could put him in this much pain, but since he wasn’t sure of the source of all that pain to begin with he figured anything was possible.

 

     The paramedic raised his right hand from his side and wiped it across his face.  When he’d finally cleared the liquid away from his eyes that was giving him a blurry view of the world, he was surprised to see the blood coating his hand.  With his usual nonchalance, Johnny gave a mental shrug.

 

     Must have a bloody nose, his mind told him in a slow, sluggish fashion. In addition to the blood, an uncomfortable weight rested against his left side that he couldn’t shrug off or identify.

 

     Johnny tried to move his head, but found that pinned as firmly as the right side of his body was.  His eyes scanned upward.   He couldn’t see much, but caught a glimpse of twisted metal, a ceiling so buckled it was a mere four feet above him in places, and seats that were now, somehow, resting on top of one another.  

 

     Ten men.  Ten men.  Ten to go.  Ten to go.

 

     The chant kept sounding in Johnny’s mind, though he wasn’t sure why.  For some reason the phrase was important to him. 

 

     Ten men.  Ten men.  Ten men to go.  Ten to go.

 

     Within seconds, it came back to the paramedic as his eyes caught sight of something under the mangled seat next to him.  He gasped, squeezing them shut against the grisly view while ignoring the odd tug at the skin around his right eye that movement produced.

 

     Oh, God.  Oh, God.  Oh, God, no.   No.  I promised them.  I promised them I’d get them out.  No.  Oh, no.  Oh, Lord, no.

 

     And with that silent entreaty of despair, Johnny passed out again.

 

___________________________

    

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny!”

 

     “John!  John, answer me, pal!”

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny, can you hear us?”

 

     When Johnny woke this time the pain flared anew, engulfing his head as well.  It took him a long minute to identify the sounds going on outside his steel tomb.  The roar of the K-12.  The pop of metal as the Jaws Of Life was put to use.  And voices calling his name. 

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny!”

 

     “John!  John, answer us!”

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny, pound on the walls if you can!”

 

     Johnny listened to the voices call three more times before his foggy brain was able to slowly identify them.  

 

     Chet.

 

     Cap.

 

     Marco.

 

     He wasn’t sure how long it took him to understand they wanted him to respond.  Johnny’s voice came out in barely more than a croak.

 

     “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m. . .I’m here.”

 

     Where ‘here’ was in relationship to where his co-workers were, Johnny wasn’t certain.  He tried to call again, but had to swallow blood first.  He coughed some blood up, which made him cry out in pain as his body convulsed against whatever it was that was pinning him to the floor.

 

     He heard Captain Stanley shout, “Everyone be quiet a minute!”

 

     When the noise of the saw, Jaws Of Life, and men’s shouts died away the beckoning started again.

 

     “John!  John, can you hear me, pal?  John!”

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny, give us a shout!”

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny!”

 

     Other voices joined in that Johnny couldn’t identify save for Charlie Dwyer’s.  He could tell the men were moving around the bus.  Sometimes their voices sounded close, but sometimes they sounded very far away.

 

     “John!  John, answer me!  Answer me, John!”

 

     It was on this last command from his captain that Johnny found the strength to try summoning his co-workers once again.

 

     “Cap.  Cap.”  Johnny coughed, groaned against the pain, then did what he knew he had to in order to be found.  He called as loudly as he could manage, “Cap!  Ca. . .Cap!”

 

     “That’s him!”  Johnny heard Chet Kelly exclaim.  “It’s him!”

 

     “John!  Again!  Call to me again so we can pinpoint where you’re at!”

 

     Sorry, Cap.  But you got the one call I had in me.

 

     Johnny’s voice was weak and quiet. “Here.  I. . .I’m here.”

     “John, again!  John?  John, come on, pal!  Again!”

 

     Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring that annoying tug at the skin above his right eye.  He took as deep of a breath as he could and called again,  “Here!  I. . .here!”

 

     Boots scrambled toward him.

 

     “John!”

 

     Johnny could tell his captain was right outside his location. 

 

     “Here.  I. . .” he took a gasping breath.  “I. . .here.  I’m here.”

 

     “Okay, John!  We’ve got you!  We know where you are.  Are you injured?”

     “Um. . .uh. . .yeah.”

 

     “How badly?”

     Johnny could envision Hank Stanley with his ear pressed against the bus in an attempt to hear him.

    

     “I. . .I don’t know.  I can’t move, and. . .and I kinda. . I kinda hurt, Cap.  And bleeding

 . .I. . .there’s some. . .some blood.  I think. . .think it’s mine, but. . .but not sure.”

 

     “Okay, pal, you just stay calm and quiet. We’ll have you out in no time.  All right?”

     “Sure,” came Johnny’s breathless response.  “Sure. . .Cap.”

 

     The paramedic heard Chet call, “Hang in there, Johnny!,” right before the K-12 was brought to life again.  As Johnny lay there waiting to rescued he refused to close his eyes.  His punishment for what he’d failed to do was right in front of him, and he wouldn’t allow himself to pretend it didn’t exist.

 

___________________________

 

     Dixie McCall and Kelly Brackett watched as Hank Stanley sprinted toward them.

 

     “He’s alive!”

 

     The doctor and nurse ran to meet the man, all three of them stopping halfway between the trains and the triage tent.

    

     “Is he injured?” Brackett asked.

 

     “Yes.  But how bad, I’m not certain.  We can’t see him.  We’re trying to get some kind of space open into the bus right now.  Trouble is, it’s smashed flatter than a pancake in most places, and with having to work around those two train engines this could to take a while.”

 

     “What about getting something opened up enough so someone could slip in?” 

 

     “I’ve already thought of that, Doc.  I’ve got Chet and Marco working on it.  I’m not sure whatever opening we can make will be large enough for a grown man to fit though.  Johnny’s our thinnest paramedic and he’s the one trapped inside.”

 

     “What about me?”  Dixie asked.  “Maybe I can fit in.”

     Hank Stanley nodded.  Dixie had always been thin, but now that he took notice she was downright skinny.  An unhealthy skinny as far as he was concerned.   Why she’d be dieting in the first place Hank had no idea, though at the moment her weight loss could prove to be an advantage.

 

    “You might be able to, but the first thing we’ve gotta do is make that opening.  Once it’s made, then we’ll have to see how big it is.”

 

     “Was Johnny able to talk to you at all?”  Brackett asked, not certain whether Hank had been in verbal contact with the man or had simply seen him through a broken window or crack in the metal.

 

     “Yeah.  It was because we could follow his voice that we found his approximate location.”

 

     “Could he tell you anything about his injuries?”

 

     “He said he couldn’t move, but whether that means he’s got some sort of back injury, or simply pinned down by a seat or debris, I don’t know.  He said he hurt, but he didn’t tell me from where or from what types of injuries.  He also said there was blood, but seemed confused as to whether or not it was his.”

 

     “How did he sound?”

     “Weak.  In pain. Somewhat disoriented.”

 

     Brackett shook his head.  “We could be dealing with a lot of trauma here, and probably are.   Dix, let’s get a drug box, a trauma box, splints, some blankets, and anything else we think might be of use.”  The doctor returned his attention to Captain Stanley.  “As soon as you can get either one of us in - Dix or me, let us know.  We’ll be standing by.”

 

     Hank gave the man a quick clap on the arm.

 

     “I’ll do that.  Thanks.”

 

     Within five minutes time Dixie and Kelly were waiting with their assembled equipment a few feet from where the firefighters were working to make some sort of opening in the mangled bus.  Dixie resisted the urge to glance at her watch.  She knew the longer it took for them to get help to Johnny, the less chance he had of leaving that bus alive.

 

     Come on, fellas. Come on.  Hurry.  You’ve got to hurry.

 

     As the minutes passed Dixie was forced to turn away.  She couldn’t watch any longer as she thought of all the things that could be going wrong for Johnny, while she and Kelly Brackett were forced to stand outside this damn bus and wait.

    

 

Chapter 18

    
     Johnny groaned against the pain.  Normally he wouldn’t have if he could help it, but with the K-12 running no one could hear him anyway.  Which was good, because he didn’t want them to hear him give into the agony that was shooting through his left leg, burrowing into his right side, and slicing through his skull.

 

     His left arm was splayed out above his head.  He clenched his fist against the pain wracking his body, stared straight ahead, and waited without the company of any others, because all the others were dead.

 

___________________________

 

 

     “It’s not very large,” Hank Stanley said as he ushered Dixie to the small opening they’d managed to make at the back of the bus. “And I’m not gonna lie to you.  It’s probably dangerous to be in there right now.”

 

     Dixie carried a trauma box under one arm and a box with splints under another.  Kelly Brackett followed a few paces behind with the drug box.

 

     “Don’t worry about me, Hank.  I’ve been in dangerous situations before and lived to tell the story.  This will simply be another one to add to my collection.”

 

     “But--”

 

     The nurse stopped her progress toward the bus and looked the man right in the eye.

 

     “Hank, would you be telling me all this if I was Johnny or Roy?”

     “Well. . .no.”

 

     “That’s right.  No.  Because you’d expect me to go in that bus and do my job, which is exactly what I’m going to do.”

 

     “I know, but--”

 

     “If you say I’m a woman I swear I’ll deck you.”

 

     “That’s not what I was gonna say.”

 

     “Then what?”

     “You’re not on my payroll.”

     Dixie smiled, understanding that the man meant he didn’t want to place someone in a position of danger who wasn’t an employee of the fire department.

 

     “That’s all right. For Johnny, this one is on the house.”

 

     Dixie set the boxes she was carrying on the ground.  She took the handie talkie Hank gave her as Brackett stood by to pass the necessary equipment into her. 

 

     “Be careful, Dix,” the doctor said, as he watched the woman turn sideways in order to slip through the small opening.

 

     “I will be.”

 

     The jagged opening wasn’t even large enough for any of the medical equipment to fit through.  Whatever Dixie needed would have to be passed to her once she had the opportunity to access Johnny’s condition.  For now all she took was the stethoscope she hung around her neck, the b/p cuff she rolled up and stuck in a back pocket, and the handie talkie clipped to the waistband of her Levis.

 

     Dixie still had one leg outside the bus when her jeans caught on a piece of metal.  She heard the ‘rip,’ and looked down to see the material sliced open at her knee.  She carefully pulled the denim free, not wanting to cut either her knee or her hand.  She crawled backwards on her palms, her rear end bumping over a flattened seat as she brought her leg into the vehicle.  The nurse continued traveling backwards a moment, giving a small cry when her hands encountered something soft.  She looked down into the wide-open eyes of a dead Marine.  She scooted faster, propelling herself off his body.

 

     Dixie shut her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for the strength she’d need to get through this.  That young red headed Marine took her back over twenty years.  She looked around the confined space, seeing for the first time the bodies, body parts, blood, bone splinters, brain matter, and personal effects that were scattered from one end of the battered bus to another.  She shook off memories of similar scenes as she called out.

 

     “Johnny!  Johnny, can you hear me?  Johnny!”

 

     If it hadn’t been for his light blue shirt she never would have spotted him.  The body of a black man was covering the left half of Johnny, while most of the right half was hidden by a row of mangled seats.  Dixie squeezed her way toward the prone paramedic. She stopped just briefly to check for pulses on three Marines she had to climb over in order to reach John.  There was nothing the nurse could do for any of them, they were all dead. 

 

     “Johnny!”

 

     Dixie saw the man try to move his head.  She also saw the twelve-inch length of steel that had pierced the thin layer of skin between his forehead and skull like a well aimed spear.  Dixie resisted the urge to yell her instructions in a rushed panic, to instead keep her voice calm and reassuring while being firm.

 

     “No, Johnny.  No.  Don’t move.  I’ll be to you in a second.  You just lie still for me.”

 

     Dixie placed two fingers and her thumb at the pulse point of the black man’s throat.  Like his comrades, he was also deceased.  Without further ceremony Dixie rolled him to the right so he was off Johnny.  That movement immediately brought blood into view as Dixie caught her first glimpse of Johnny’s left leg through the tear in his uniform pants.  She also saw the twisted leg of a bus seat rammed into the paramedic’s right side in the vicinity of his seventh rib.  She grimaced, glad Johnny’s face was turned away from her so he couldn’t see her expression.  Dixie pulled herself together, then laid a light hand on Johnny’s back.  The upper portion of his shirt was stained with blood from his head wound.

 

     “Hey, handsome.  How ya’ doin’ here?”

 

     The nurse saw Johnny’s right eye flutter four times, then finally open. 

 

     “Johnny?”  Dixie questioned.

 

     “Ro. . .Roy?”

     Dixie forced a chuckle as she set the ha