Get your own Free Home PageTrapper leaned back in his chair and checked the clock. 10:20. Almost time to go in and wake up Jackpot. The young doctor had been yawning so much that they had sent him inside to sleep in the Doctor's lounge around seven. Ernie and Gloria had stuck around til eight, but by that time Gonzo had been yawning just as much, and the three of them had helped clear out a space on the bunk above the driver's compartment so he could stretch out to sleep. Then Ernie had taken Gloria home to relieve the babysitter, and Trapper had sat playing solitaire and switching off Stanley's IV's when necessary. He was starting to get sleepy himself, now, and he leaned back in the dentist's chair, trying to decide if he was going to need a pillow.
"No!" The cry of protest was from Stanley this time. It had been Gonzo's nightmare earlier. Trapper got up and went over to sit on the edge of the bed while he got a hold of Stanley's hands to keep him from thrashing around and dislodging the IV. "No!" Stanley said again, his eyes flying open.
"Easy, Stan, it's just me." Trapper said. "You're all right."
"John?" Stanley blinked at him. "Where?"
"You're in the Titanic. Careful, you've got an IV in this arm." Trapper showed him the intravenous feed and Stanley subsided into the pillow.
"Not tied up. Good." He seemed to be falling asleep again, but then stirred restlessly and pushed up, dragging open his eyes. "I gotta go."
Trapper, who was just as pleased to know that Stanley's kidney's were functioning all right, had planned for this eventuality, and he had cleared a hook in the bathroom for the IV. He helped Stanley steer himself back onto the bed afterwards and was trying to clear away the crumpled blankets so Stanley could lay down when Stan asked, "Where's Gates?"
"Up there," Trapper pointed to the dangling hand visible from the knot of blankets on the high bunk. "He's kind of tired."
"Oh." Stanley let himself be coaxed into lying down again. "He saved my life, John. Did you send him?"
"Nope," Trapper said. "He volunteered."
Stanley shook his head a little and frowned as his eyes began to close. "I thought maybe he did it for you. He likes you."
"He likes you, too, Stan," Trapper said, remembering all too well how Stanley had told him that he had no one to care for him but Trapper during that miserable night when exhaustion had finally broken down Stanley's barriers. "People do care about you, you know."
Stanley considered that one sleepily. "EJ cares," he offered after a moment. Then he tried to sit up. "EJ. Does EJ know I'm all right?"
"Relax," Trapper said, pushing his shoulder back down. "We talked to her when you first got here, and Ernie said she'd call her from home to give her an update. She's going to fly back on the flight she had scheduled in the morning."
"Is she all right?"
"She's fine," Trapper said, and then had an inspiration. "Listen, Stan, do you still keep a set of clean clothes in your closet?"
"Yes." Stanley looked at him uncertainly.
"Well, I've got to go inside for a minute anyway. I'll stop in your office and bring out your clothes and a disposable razor from the gift shop and bring them back out. That way you can clean up before you try to get in past the newspapermen haunting the entrances and then you can call EJ from your office, okay?" Trapper cocked his head and looked at Stan cajolingly. "You'll be all right for five minutes won't you?"
Stanley wasn't sure he would be all right, said his expression, and Trapper added a little more incentive.
"You can keep an eye on Gonzo for me," Trapper said, knowing that Stan was so close to falling back to sleep that five minutes of quiet would probably work better than a sedative.
"All right," Stanley said, biting his lip. "I'll be okay. Just hurry, okay, John?"
"Be right back," Trapper said, and grabbed his jacket.
He was back inside of ten minutes, and was surprised when Stanley waved a hand at him from the bed as he came in, but it was the last fragment of consciousness that had made the gesture. Stanley was asleep by the time Trapper got the door closed behind him. He smiled and shook his head, and hung Stanley's clothes on the curtain rod. He checked Stanley's IV and adjusted the blanket. He went over to check Gonzo. He found the nightlight and turned it on. Then put the pillow he had swiped from the laundry onto the dentist chair and kicked off his own shoes before spreading a blanket over himself and flipping off the main lights. Maybe it wasn't the most comfortable bed in the world, but he had certainly slept on worse. The important part was the sleep. With any luck, there wouldn't be any more interruptions.
Sirens. Sirens and an insistent knocking that broke up any chance of further sleep. Trapper opened his eyes and remembered where he was. Gonzo was emerging, rumple haired from his blankets and Stanley had pushed up onto one elbow. Trapper rolled out of the chair and went to unlock the door. "What is it?" he asked, querously.
Jackpot was standing there. "I hate to say it, Trap, but we've got mass casualties coming in. One of the BART trains rear ended another train and the initial estimate is at least 200 people aboard both trains. They just yelled for every ambulance in the city."
Trapper pulled a hand over his face to see if that would help him wake up. "Right. We're coming. Tell the operator to start paging extra lab techs, nurses, and orderlies, and get all the interns in."
"Folder C in the emergency plan file top left hand drawer of my desk," Stanley said, flipping aside the blanket and sitting up. "There's a checklist to follow -- and remind security to get someone to start controlling the flow in the parking lot so the ambulances can get in."
"Right." Jackpot disappeared from the doorway.
Gonzo dropped down from the bunk and started to dig for a pair of clean pants. "Anybody know what time it is?"
"Quarter of five," Trapper grunted, bending down to retrieve his shoes.
"Ow!" Stanley said, and both Gonzo and Trapper turned to see him scowling at the IV feed. "Give me a hand with this, will you, John? I can't work with an IV dangling off one arm."
Gonzo got there first. "Are you sure you're up to this, Stan?" he asked, flipping on the overhead lights so he could get a good look at the rescued man.
Stanley flinched from the bright lights, but no more than Trapper did. He blinked up at Gonzo, defensively. "Well I'm not going to sit out here all by myself, while there are people who need help fifty yards away."
"Your color's a lot better," Gonzo admitted, giving Stanley a quick once-over. "Are you still stiff?"
"A little," Stanley conceded, "but look...." He pinched up a flap of skin over his wrist and it collapsed back down to smoothness with the speed of good hydration. "See? I'm okay."
Trapper, having shoved his feet into his shoes, took a look over Gonzo's shoulder. "Any headache?"
"No," Stanley said. He did look a lot better than he had the last time they had woken up, and if Jackpot was right, they were going to need all the help they could get.
"Okay, Stan," Trapper decided. "But if the headache comes back you make sure you tell Gonzo or me or Jackpot straight away. Promise?"
"I promise," Stanley said, the worried lines fading from his forehead. "Thank you, John."
Trapper snorted. "If you want to thank me, take the extra minute to call EJ in her hotel room. It'll help you concentrate. Hurry up and get dressed, both of you, and I'll meet you inside." He put the stack of shoes, socks and underwear that he had brought from Stanley's closet onto the counter and left.
Gonzo bent over the IV feed. "Your feet aren't going to bother you, are they? I mean, if you have to stand too much?"
Stanley shook his head, letting go of the lip he had bitten as the IV was withdrawn. "I'll be fine as long as I don't have to sit too much," he countered, waiting impatiently as Gonzo put a bandage on his arm. "Come on, let's hurry."
One ambulance had pulled up and their was a second one turning into the parking lot as Stanley and Gonzo crossed over to ER. A security cop was coming out, bearing a flashlight and putting on an orange vest, and he turned to intercept them. "Hey, Dr. Riverside," he called, and Stanley paused, apprehension on his features. The cop jogged the last few feet over and took Stanley's hand, shaking it. "We heard. Glad you're okay," he said, giving Stanley a friendly grin before going on.
"Thank you, Peterson!" Stanley replied, surprised, but pleased. He watched the cop trotting off to redirect an arriving car over his shoulder as he and Gonzo went on, and Gonzo caught him by the elbow to get his attention.
"Watch your step, Stan," he warned, as they reached the curb.
Stanley stopped rubbernecking, and turned back to Gonzo. "Does everybody in the hospital know that I got kidnapped?" he asked.
Gonzo laughed -- he couldn't help it -- Stanley was so bemused by the well-wishes of a comparative stranger. "The whole world knows, Stan. The press found out this afternoon. There were TV cameras all over the place earlier."
"Oh," Stanley said, taken aback. "You don't think it would have gotten on the news in Chicago, do you?"
"Call EJ and find out," Gonzo advised. "She's probably awake. She told me she had to leave the hotel at eight, Chicago time."
Stanley watched as the ambulance crew unlimbered a gurney and dashed for the door. "I guess if I talk fast, no one will think I'm neglecting the patients," he decided. "And I do need to go to my office to get my stethoscope and my lab coat."
"Think of it this way, Stan," Gonzo said. "If you hadn't been kidnapped we'd be trying to call you at home."
"If I hadn't been kidnapped," Stanley said, squinting as they came into the bright lights of ER, "I'd be in Chicago with EJ right now."
"Reporter," Gonzo warned, steering Stanley past the knot of doctors and nurses that had converged on the gurney along the opposite wall from the press hound. They passed Jackpot at the counter, cradling the phone on one shoulder as he juggled with a clipboard. Gonzo usurped the clipboard, and Jackpot gave him a grateful look. "How are we doing?" Gonzo asked.
"According to the police there're several busloads of the walking injured coming our way just as soon as they can get them out of the tunnel. Five, ten minutes," Jackpot said to Gonzo and then gave Stanley a brief, worried look, "You gonna be okay for this, Stan?"
"I'm fine," Stanley assured him, straightening his stance a little and wishing he had a tie. Jackpot gave him a thumbs up and a grin, and then tucked into the phone again, asking if he had connected with the police coordinator.
"Five minutes, Stan," Gonzo said, pushing him towards his office. "That's plenty of time to tell EJ that you're all right."
Stanley looked back to see if Gonzo was going to come with him, but the young surgeon was already busy checking the crash carts to make sure that they had enough equipment packs readily available. He took a deep breath and headed for his office, beating back the panic. It wasn't like he was alone in the corridor. And he could leave the office door open. That way if anything... if he had to yell... if he wasn't too frightened to yell... Trapper and Gonzo would hear.
He turned on the lights in his office and checked the closet before he sat down. There was a neat note in Ernie's handwriting with EJ's hotel room number and the phone number to call in the middle of his blotter. His hands were sweaty, and he wiped them against his pants before he picked up the receiver and dialled.
EJ had packed her bag hours ago, and was trying to choke down the eggs and bacon she had ordered from room service when the phone rang. She grabbed it before the first ring died away. "Hello?"
"Eej? It's Stanley." His voice sounded far away, but at least it was his voice, and her heart did a somersault of elation and worry.
"Oh, honey, are you all right? Did they hurt you? Have you gotten enough sleep?" She clung to the receiver with both hands, trying to transmit a hug across the distance.
"I slept for hours," Stanley's voice was shaking -- and the connection was too bad for her to tell if it was from laughter or another emotion. "I'm fine now. I'm all right. Are you all right? Did I worry you too much?"
"I'm all right," she said, relief sending laughter bubbling up through her words. "I'm wonderful now that you've called. I couldn't sleep at all last night."
"Oh, gosh, honey, I'm sorry," he said, and that made her laugh too.
"I'll sleep on the plane," she reassured him. "And I'll see you this afternoon. You're all right! You're safe!"
"I miss you so much," Stanley said. "I was going to come out to Chicago to surprise you on Saturday."
"I would have loved that," EJ said, imagining him standing next to her in the hotel room, looking out over the Chicago skyline. "Next time I'll bring you with me."
"I'd like that." Behind his voice she could hear the incoherent clamoring of the hospital p.a. system, and his voice was reluctant when he spoke again. "Listen, honey, I can't talk for long. Two rapid transit trains collided and we're about to get the casualties."
"You're going to work so soon?" she asked. "Does John know?"
"He knows. We're talking potentially hundreds of injuries, Eej. They need me."
She wanted to tell Stanley to take care of himself first. She wanted to tell him to rest after his ordeal. But she knew her Stanley, and knew that being needed was the best balm his soul could ask for. "Of course they need you, Stanley. They're lucky that you're there. Just make sure you don't forget to eat or drink something, all right?"
"I will," he promised. "Come home as fast as you can."
"If I have to fly the plane myself," she said.
"I love you, EJ." His voice cracked on the words. "I love you."
"I love you too, Stanley." She tried to let her voice convey how much she had learned about wanting him over the dark watches of the past night, and her gratitude for still having him to come home to. "I'll see you soon."
"Soon," he said, as if he couldn't bear to use the word 'goodbye.' The click of the receiver in the cradle echoed in her ear, and she put the handset down carefully.
"He's all right," she told herself, focusing on the most important thing to know. "He's all right." And then she flopped down on the bed and wept.
Stanley emerged from his office just as word came back that the buses were arriving, still running the electric shaver over his cheeks as he closed the door behind him. He'd put on a tie, Gonzo noticed, as he fell into step alongside, pacing himself to Stanley's still awkward gait.
"You shaved?" he asked.
"A clean chin inspires confidence," Stanley said, quotation marks in his tone. He'd run a comb through his hair, too. "Mine mostly. I hate looking like a derelict."
"You look fine, Stan," Gonzo reassured him. He offered the two packets he was carrying. "Triage or treatment?"
"Triage," Stanley said, taking the clipboard and the envelope of tags. "I think I'll do better if I'm busy -- really busy."
"Somehow I just don't think that that's going to be a problem," Gonzo said. The doors at the end of the corridor had opened, and the injured were being ushered inside by a dazed looking cop. Almost all adults, some being supported on each side. "Wheelchair!" he called, spotting one woman who was on the verge of fainting, and sprinted forward.
Stanley waded in, giving quick assessments and assigning tags. These were mostly turtles -- people who could wait for treatment -- although broken bones and heavy bruises hurt they weren't life threatening. He moved some people up in the queue when he saw signs of concussion or internal bleeding, but for the most part, he sent them to the holding area in the cafeteria, to keep the corridor clear as the more seriously injured began to arrive. Some of them looked at him oddly, and he wondered why until one woman asked, "Weren't you just kidnapped, Doctor?"
"Yes, that's right," Stanley said, trying not to look too startled. He remembered that Gonzo had said he was on the news. "Here, try to move your hand this way."
"Ouch," she said, and shook her head. "It just won't do it."
"Okay, nurse!" Stanley got the nearest body, "put a splint on this wrist and put her in the line for radiology, and give her 800 mgs of acetaminophen for the pain. You'll be fine, miss, but there will probably be a delay before we can treat you, so you'll have to wait in the cafeteria."
"That's all right," she said, with strained good humor. "The only reason I want to get to work today is to boast about being taken care of by the million dollar man."
"Didn't the news guys say he's married?" a woman in line asked, trying to see Stanley's hands.
"Very happily," Stanley confirmed, his face relaxing into the contented smile it tended to drift into every time he thought about how lucky he was to have EJ to love him.
"Just my luck," the woman joked. "I'm finally going to have an excuse to get a rich doctor to look into my eyes and it's too late to flirt."
Several people laughed, and Stanley glanced over to see if she was pretty. She was, in spite of the darkening bruise over her temple, and even at this distance, Stanley could see that her left pupil was dilated. He looked around to see who was available. "Gates?" Gonzo had just waved a stretcher on to the lab. "Grab a wheelchair, please. We've got a possible concussion here."
"Right, Stan," Gonzo said, looking around for the nearest available wheels.
"You can flirt with Dr. Gates," Stanley told the woman as he pulled her out of the line and started to fill in the tag. "He's the one who rescued me. He may not be rich, but he's one of the best surgeons in the city."
"Actually," Gonzo said, arriving with the wheelchair. "I'm one of the best surgeons in the state, but Stanley has very high standards." He laid a hand on Stanley's shoulder for a moment, like a benediction, before helping to get the woman into the wheelchair. "You holding up all right, Stan?"
"I'm fine," Stanley said, warmed by the concern. "Thank you." He turned to the next patient in line. "Now, what hurts?"
He had gotten the man's vital signs when he became aware of a figure hovering nearby. "What is it?" Stanley asked, not looking around.
"Dr. Riverside, I'm Henry Kwan, from the Chronicle. Can I ask you some questions?"
Stanley shook his head in disbelief and peered into his patient's eyes. "You can ask, Mr. Kwan, but I'm afraid this isn't the best time. I've got to get some initial evaluations done on these casualties. As near as I can tell the on-site people just threw everyone who could walk onto the bus without any kind of examination."
"I just followed the people in front of me," the patient confirmed. "And then there was a bus so I got on it. But now my neck and shoulder are really starting to hurt."
"Try not to move them," Stanley advised. "Mr. Kwan could you push that cart a little closer? Thank you." He put a cervical collar onto the man and signalled for an orderly. "Radiology, spine and shoulder series. Use a wheelchair."
"Sure thing, Dr. Riverside," the orderly said. "Glad to see you're back." He led the patient away and Stanley moved to the next person.
"Have you been working all night?" Kwan asked.
"No," Stanley said, moving to the next person in line. "Where does it hurt?"
"Just give me a green tag and I'll go wait in the cafeteria, doc," the man, a lanky youngster, said. "All I've got is a couple of busted fingers."
Stanley checked his eyes and pulse anyway. "You didn't hit your head or get any other bruises?"
"Nope. But you'd better look at this lady here, 'cause she started off real talkative and she's gone all quiet like," he indicated the small, elderly oriental woman next to him. "Mind you, I didn't understand nothin' she said, but she was talking a lot."
"Thank you," Stanley said, handing over the tag. He bent down to address her, wincing when his lower back twinged a complaint. "Ma'am, can you tell me where it hurts?"
She blinked at him and said something in sing-song chinese. Stanley felt a familiar wave of frustration. "I just need to check your eyes," he said, a little louder, hoping she would understand. Kwan, at his elbow, spouted a few musical words, and the woman relaxed, letting Stanley check her pupils, and pulse. Her skin was clammy, and her color wasn't good.
"I need a gurney here!" Stanley called.
The woman said something else and Kwan bent to catch it. "She says her left side is very painful," he told Stanley.
"She's shocky," Stanley said, writing out the tag as quickly as legibility allowed. "Where's that gurney?"
"Here, Stanley," it was Titus, newly arrived, with his coat still trailing fog. "Glad you're okay. What have we got?"
"Shock, pain in the left side. This is Mr. Kwan, he can translate." Stanley raised his voice to make a general announcement to the arriving staff. "The cafeteria has the greens, we've got yellows in the waiting room, and the reds are in the treatment rooms or labs. Be careful, some of the casualties had no on-site evaluation and we're finding concussions and internal bleeding in the walking wounded."
Titus had lifted the elderly woman onto the gurney and performed a quick check of her side. "Definitely internal injuries. Which room is clear?"
"Try two," Stanley said, turning to the next patient, while Kwan was dragged, not quite willingly, off with Titus. He was interrupted by a quick hug from Gloria Brancusi, who stood back again and smiled at him.
"I was so worried!" she said.
"Me, too," said Ernie Shoop, who had also just arrived, and she laid her hand alongside his cheek for a moment in a gesture that was half reassurance and half nurse's evalutaion of temperature and skin condition. "I'm glad you're on your feet, Stanley," she said, in the implacable, practical tone he knew best, "because there's a whole busload of people pulling up outside, and at least four ambulances."
Stanley wished that he had time to be flabbergasted. He put the image of their faces and their concern into his memory to be savored later and made himself think of the crisis, but it took a few breaths before he could decide on what to do. "All right. Thank you. Miss Brancusi, if you'll finish getting vitals on these last few patients, I think I'd better start doing triage outside, so the corridor doesn't get too crowded for the gurneys coming in. Mrs. Shoop, would you please assign some orderlies with wheelchairs to bring in the patients, as necessary?"
"Yes, doctor," Gloria said, taking a handful of tags and starting with the next patient.
"Right away," Ernie said, her eyes already choosing out possible people.
Stanley gathered up his clipboard and tags and started for the exit. "Jackpot!" he called, seeing his protege bending over one of the newly arrived gurneys. "I'm going to move triage for the walking wounded outside. Can you handle the ambulances?"
"Got it, Stan!" Jackpot said, waving him on.
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