THE NURSE'S RESCUE Page 2

  A Friday afternoon. At just the right time to catch the rush of after-school and end-of-week shoppers flocking to the popular shopping centre. Hundreds of people had been inside when the explosion, assumed to have been caused by a fault in the mains gas supply, had occurred. It was a disaster that was major on an international scale and the evidence was everywhere Jessica glanced as Tony led his team through the car park, their progress now being filmed by a television crew.

  There was ample material to keep all the film crews happy. The area was teeming and it seemed likely that there were now more rescuers on scene than there had been people caught in the mall. It was easy to spot the workers who had recently been inside the incident scene. They all had the same covering of dust, the same grimy goggles and dust masks pushed just clear of faces that wore the same expressions of dogged determination to carry on despite exhaustion. Tempers were fraying more frequently now and Jessica was not surprised at the sounds of an argument coming from behind one of the army’s personnel trucks they were passing.

  ‘I’m not going to move this truck. Where the hell do you think I’m going to find a place to put it?’

  ‘It has to be moved. This tent is going up here.’

  ‘Put your bloody tent somewhere else, mate. This truck’s not moving.’

  What was the new tent for? Jessica wondered. Another temporary morgue, perhaps? Or maybe it was something to do with another set of new arrivals—the dog team she could see ahead of them now. The handlers were unloading their highly trained search dogs and checking their gear. Leads and harnesses were being attached and bowls of water distributed. The barking of the dogs melded into the myriad sounds around them and Jessica knew it was a sign that the rescue operation was moving into an advanced phase.

  Surface casualties had been dealt with by the time the USAR teams had been deployed. The more easily accessible sectors had been covered and many victims found and extricated by the specialist teams. The likelihood of finding more survivors was dropping rapidly but it wasn’t impossible. Jessica held onto that thought grimly as her team halted and regrouped near a side entrance to the mall. The bubble of hysteria that made her want to run ahead, screaming the name of her son and flinging any obstacle she could touch aside, had to be as rigidly controlled as the bubble that contained the grief for her mother.

  She could do it. It might take every ounce of strength she possessed and then some, and it might only be possible for a short period of time, but Jessica knew it was possible and that was a revelation in itself. How could she, Jessica McPhail, possess such an inner reserve and have been so completely unaware of its existence for the thirty years of her life so far? She had always lacked confidence and self-esteem. Had always been quick to put herself down before others had had the chance to do it for her. She had never done anything on her own without encouragement from someone she trusted. And she had never been assertive enough to insist on doing something in the face of active opposition.

  Except she wasn’t doing this on her own, was she? Jessica glanced around her as she followed instructions to put her dust mask and goggles back into position, to check her radio and switch on the headlamp attached to her protective helmet. She had a team around her that included an expert squad leader in Tony. Firemen Bryan and Gerry had been classmates, as had June, and they made up half the six-person rescuer section of USAR 3. Jessica was one of the medics and then, of course, there was the pick of the bunch as far as she was concerned. The team’s other medic—Joe Barrington.

  ‘All set?’ Tony nodded, having surveyed his team. ‘Let’s go, then.’

  Security barriers were lifted to allow them entry to what looked like a relatively unscathed area of the mall. Apart from shattered shop frontages and the disarray of goods within them, the general structure appeared normal. Jessica turned her head, as did the other team members, using the beam from her headlamp to survey and assess their surroundings, checking for hazards and trying to absorb all the information and stay orientated.

  Having crunched over broken glass as they’d passed several small shops, the team entered a food court. The smell of partially cooked and abandoned meals made a welcome change from the stench of dust, but the eerily empty space, overturned chairs and half-eaten meals on the tables turned the scene into a potential set for a horror movie.

  Jessica noted a partially demolished hamburger, barely recognisable through the thick layer of dust. A holder on a nearby countertop held empty ice-cream cones, the contents long since melted and mixed into the surrounding layer of dust. Had children been waiting for an adult to pass the treats within reach? Jessica swallowed a painful lump in her throat at the thought. How often had she taken an ice cream from just such a holder in order to pass it into Ricky’s eager hands? The food court was left well behind by the time she managed to rein in her thoughts.

  Why had they come to the mall so early? Jessica had arranged to meet her mother and Ricky here but not until 5 p.m. when she could be sure her last day on the course was over. Had Ricky been so excited by the promise of the visit to the toy shop he had driven her mother to distraction with the wait? Jessica had had no premonition of personal disaster as they had travelled to this scene. She had been more concerned that she was included in an emergency rescue team whose skills might be required for a lengthy incident, much longer than she would feel happy leaving her mother to cope with Ricky for.

  Even when her phone call to the motel unit had been unanswered, Jessica hadn’t worried unduly. Her empathy during the initial briefing when she’d heard of parents panicking about their missing children had been no more than automatic, and there had been no time for personal worries once her team had entered the scene for their first active duty. The experience had been so far out of Jessica’s normal realm it should have been overwhelming, but she had astonished herself by coping with everything. Picking her way through the rubble of partially destroyed shops. Dealing with the extrication and treatment of the two survivors they had found. Even coping with the bodies being removed from near the tunnel that led to the basement car park. Coping until she had recognised one of the victims, that was.

  Her own mother.

  The woman who had raised her entirely unaided. Who had provided for and protected her as the only focus of her life. And who had been there for her when history had repeated itself and Jessica had found herself pregnant and abandoned.

  The shock of recognition had been overwhelming. Jessica had never fainted in her life but she’d come within a whisker of losing consciousness at that instant. The incentive to overcome the shock had been all that had kept her upright as others had taken her mother away, but it had been enough to keep her on the front line until the area had been officially deemed clear. No more victims had been trapped when that section had collapsed.

  So where was her son?

  Had they been going towards or away from the car park? And why? Jessica knew the answer to that. Ricky was never happier than when he could indulge his passion for cars by looking at the real thing. Why hadn’t they chosen the outside car park to wander in? And what had happened during the collapse or the seconds leading up to it? Had Ricky been small and fast enough to run clear as the roof caved in? Had he found a space in a nearby shop to hide or was he beyond or beneath the tunnel, which was still totally inaccessible—a solid barrier to the car park that would need a bulldozer or crane to clear. A barrier that was now well away from where Jessica was. She wanted to turn and run. To try and find a path that would lead her closer to where she thought Ricky could be.

  ‘Jess? Are you OK?’

  ‘Sure.’ Grateful for the block to the threatened emotional tidal wave, Jessica gave Joe a grimly determined smile.

  ‘Watch yourself while we’re climbing. Keep three points of contact with the rubble at all times.’

  Jessica nodded. She had been too close to losing her grip just then. So close she hadn’t noticed her team was about to start searching a mound of rubble that blocked the end of the m
all leading away from the food court.

  ‘Position yourselves one metre apart,’ Tony directed. ‘We’re hoping to get past this quickly but we’ll do a line and hail search as we cross.’

  Heavy machinery within the vicinity had been shut down. Jessica tested a length of timber protruding from the pile in front of her and then used it as an anchor so that she could lean as close to the debris as possible. She waited her turn, listening as others in the line made their calls.

  ‘Rescue team above. Can you hear me?’

  The silence was punctuated by the sound of someone firing up an air hammer and the shouts of someone else curtailing the noisy activity. Bryan had to repeat his call and then wait for a new period of quiet to listen for a possible response.

  ‘Nothing heard,’ he reported.

  June was the next in line. ‘Rescue team above. Can you hear me?’

  There was another short silence. ‘Nothing heard.’

  Jessica’s turn came and went with the same result and then they moved forward and up. Joe’s foot slipped as he pushed himself higher. Glass shattered and something metallic dislodged itself with a clang.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Joe steadied himself and Jessica could see the edges of a smile around the mask. ‘You?’

  Jessica simply nodded. The chain of calls had started again.

  ‘Rescue team above. Can you hear me?’

  When Jessica moved again, her gloved hand caught what appeared to be a piece of fabric.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she muttered. Was this clothing from a buried victim? Joe’s head turned sharply.

  ‘Pull on it,’ he advised.

  Jessica pulled and the empty sleeve of a garment appeared amidst a shower of dust.

  ‘There’s part of a clothing store in here,’ Joe nodded. ‘Bits of fabric are sticking out all over the place. I think there have been a few false alarms.’

  The next move took the team over the top of the relatively small mound of debris. As they completed the unsuccessful line and hail search a radio message from Tony prompted a new wave of noise as machinery started up again. New teams of rescue workers went into action. A wire bucket brigade would remove the small pieces of rubble from the mound until they could be absolutely certain any victims had been located. Then a bobcat would probably move in to clear another area of floor space.

  They had to stop and wait now as Tony checked with the engineers and safety officers who had been scouting the area beyond the mound, looking for any signs of secondary collapse and testing the atmosphere for pockets of gas which would make the area too dangerous for the USAR team to enter. There seemed to be some question of how safe it was to continue, judging by the length of time the briefing was taking.

  Jessica looked around, using her headlamp as a torch and trying to make her own assessment of the collapse patterns she saw nearby. Internal walls had fallen in one shop but the ceiling was still there. She could see the cracks in the slab of concrete that presumably had had the weight of a second-storey shop on it and was now without much of its support from below. The internal walls had fallen towards each other, giving a cantilevered collapse pattern. The possibility of voids large enough to contain survivors was high but the danger from that ceiling was also high. Was that what Tony and the others were trying to weigh up?

  Apparently it was. An even longer wait allowed timber to be brought in to provide more support for the ceiling. Jessica watched, trying to stay focused and not allowing her thoughts to turn inwards, but it was difficult. She felt more than tired. An edge of sheer exhaustion was trying to move in and she found herself hoping they might be getting near the end of their shift. Trying to estimate the length of time they had been in here was not easy but she figured it had to be somewhere between one and three hours.

  The shoring team had their routine well established now and once they started cutting and fitting the solid framing progress seemed much faster. Manageable-sized pieces of debris were removed from what appeared to be a party supplies shop. They were all startled by the release of some brightly coloured helium balloons that floated overhead, looking incongruously festive, but the balloons were ignored as the opening to a void was discovered.

  ‘Rescue team here. Can you hear me?’ It was Tony who put his face into the opening.

  The silence seemed longer than the customary fifteen to twenty seconds. Jessica saw Tony rearrange his position and then reach into the void. His head and shoulders vanished. The team waited and Jessica found her exhaustion receding as the tension mounted. Had Tony found something? Was it an adult…or a child?

  Tony’s legs wriggled and he backed out of the space. He signalled the knot of army personnel standing nearby. USAR 3 stepped closer as well.

  ‘There’s someone in here and I think they’re alive, but I can only reach the top of the head and one arm. We need to clear the debris to give our medics access.’

  They worked fast, galvanised by the adrenaline rush that came with the possibility they might have found a survivor. Wire baskets were filled with smaller pieces of debris and passed along the human chain the army had provided. The team from Civil Defence assessed and moved larger pieces that could be managed without machinery. The concrete slab which had provided the roof of the void was cut into sections with hydraulic gear. They couldn’t remove it all without endangering the victim beneath but they tried to clear enough to give access for extrication. The noise was horrendous and the conditions became steadily more cramped as extra personnel and equipment were ferried in from outside. Jessica stood near Joe beside a Stokes basket laden with medical supplies. The solid plastic stretcher basket was large enough to hold a lot of gear, for which Joe and Jessica were thankful as soon as they got close enough to touch their patient. They were going to need all their skills and supplies to make this a successful mission.

  The victim was a man, possibly in his early forties, and he was deeply unconscious.

  ‘Secure the airway, Jess and get some oxygen on. Fifteen litres with a high-concentration mask.’

  The rubble obscuring their patient’s legs was still being removed as the medics started work. Joe checked the chest and abdomen while Jessica slid a hard, moulded tube into the man’s mouth to protect his airway. She wiggled an oxygen mask into place and attached the tubing to the portable cylinder before opening the valve.

  ‘June, could you fish a cervical collar out of the Stokes basket for me, please?’

  ‘Grab that roll of IV supplies as well,’ Joe added. He looked up at Jessica. ‘No major trauma visible here—he’s been remarkably well protected. He’s still as flat as a pancake, though. Blood pressure’s non-palpable for both radial and brachial pulses. What’s the carotid like?’

  ‘Fast and weak.’ Jessica took her fingers away from the patient’s throat to take the collar from June.

  ‘I’ll get an IV in this side. Can you put one in his other arm?’

  ‘Sure.’ Jessica did up the Velcro straps to hold the collar in place and then reached for supplies. Tourniquet, alcohol swab, cannula and luer plug. The clarity with which her mind could click into gear in conditions like this would have astonished Jessica if she’d stepped back mentally to assess her performance but, of course, she never had. The response to any critical situation was the same whether it was a cardiac arrest at the home of one of her regular patients, a roadside effort at the scene of a high-speed car crash or—what would have been unthinkable even twenty-four hours ago—trapped in a tiny space inside a collapsed shopping precinct. It was as though someone else took over her mind and body during an emergency. And Jessica loved being that person.

  The man’s veins were completely flat because of the shocked condition of their patient. Even going for the normally easily accessible ante-cubital vein in the elbow was a blind stab, and Jessica was relieved to see the flashback in the cannula chamber that indicated successful entry. She reached for a bag of saline and a giving set to start fluids but Joe shook his head.

 
‘Hold fire for a second, Jess. Let’s get him into the basket so we can get set up for moving faster.’

  They slid a backboard into place after a struggle to cope in the confined space. Then they began to slide the man clear with assistance from the rest of the team.

  ‘Stop!’ Joe’s command was urgent. ‘His foot’s caught.’

  Joe reached to move the obstruction, leaning closer to provide more light with his headlamp. He swore loudly. ‘The foot’s caught,’ he repeated grimly. ‘It’s been crushed under the edge of this slab. It’s half-severed at the ankle and he’s bleeding like a stuck pig again now.’

  Jessica ripped open a large dressing package and crawled closer. She pressed the wad onto the wound and pushed—hard.

  ‘This’ll be where the major blood loss has come from, I guess. It must have finally stopped by itself or he’d be dead by now.’

  ‘We’ve opened it up again by trying to move him out.’ Joe was nodding as he poked at the debris trapping the man’s foot. Then he signalled to Tony. ‘There’s no way we can shift this by hand. We’ll have to get the concrete cutter back. Heaven knows how we’re going to shift what’s on top of this piece. I don’t want anything falling on our patient. He’s sick enough as it is.’

  Tony looked as grim as Joe. ‘It’s not going to be easy. Or quick.’

  ‘It’ll have to be quick. He’s running out of time unless we can get him somewhere with advanced resuscitation facilities.’

  Jessica was monitoring their patient’s breathing and she didn’t like what she could see. ‘I’m going to start IPPV,’ she told Joe. ‘His breathing’s deteriorating and it’s too shallow now.’ Reaching for a bag mask, Jessica switched the tubing from the portable oxygen cylinder. She fitted the mask to the man’s face and began assisting his inhalations by periodically squeezing the bag attached to the mask.

  Shouting from nearby increased. Three sharp whistle blasts punctuated the dust-laden atmosphere. For whatever reason, the signal to evacuate the scene had been given and suddenly the tension was more than anyone wanted to deal with. The wire basket brigade melted away. Cutting gear that was being shifted towards Joe’s position was put down and personnel turned and moved swiftly away. The Civil Defence squad leader moved in just as swiftly.