Beyond Ragnarok -- Ch. 4 Posted

Disclaimer:

This is purely a work of fiction. Any descriptions or names that resemble actual persons, businesses, or locations are purely coincidental. Several locations are mentioned by name, however, it is meant as a point of reference. Nothing more.

The story is based loosely on Nordic myths, which (as far as the author is aware) are not attributed to a specific author.

The author receives no monetary compensation for this work. However, the author does hold exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.



PART IV – Resuscitation



John hated getting stuck with taxi duty. This was the third nursing home patient of the night that had been transferred to the Henry Ford Hospital’s intensive care unit. The harried-looking intake nurse was trying to get him to take her back.



He hated it when nurses acted like it was his fault that an old lady got too sick for her retirement home. It wasn’t like he could control that one of her various old age diseases decided to act up. He just picked them up when they coded in the middle of the night.



John’s partner, Roger Clevenger, was restocking the ambulance for the next run. John sighed; it looked like it was going to be another long night.



He knew he should be happy that things had been relatively quiet for the last few nights, or rather, as quiet as things ever are in downtown Detroit, but he wanted a real case. Something interesting, at least.



As if the fates could read his thoughts, Roger suddenly barged into the quiet ward.



“Nunns.” Roger addressed John by his last name when they were on the job. “Are you ready to go? Suicide attempt just up the street.”



John looked at the nurse, who glared right back at him.



“Fine,” she said, taking the clip board from him. “We’ll take her.”



“Thank you.” Surprisingly, he realized that he was sincere. “What’ve we got?” John asked, turning his attention back to his partner. They exited the ward and moved quickly toward the ambulance bay.



“Twenty-something, slashed her wrists. A neighbor called it in as a break-in, but the police didn’t find an intruder.” The men exited the building and hopped into their rig. It was Roger’s turn to drive. “They went in and found a broken window in the master bedroom and the owner of the house had slashed her wrists.”



John swore. This was not what he had had in mind. He sighed and picked up the radio. “Dispatch, this is Medic Four.” He released the button and waited for the familiar voice.



The radio crackled to life. “Medic Four, this is Dispatch. Location is 425 Oak Circle. Major intersection is 10 Mile and Masonic.” John began jotting down notes, he would bring up the address on the on-board GPS when the exchange was finished. “Victim is a 23-year-old, white, female. Lateral wounds on either wrist, signs of recent intercourse. Victim is unconscious, but assume sexual assault. Police on scene are trying to control the bleeding.”



John paused a moment before pressing the call button again. “Medications? Anti-depressants?”



“They didn’t find any on scene. Assume no.”



John punched the address into the GPS and found that they were about a mile away. “Turn right at the light,” he directed Roger. John went back to the radio. “We’re about one mile out; we’ll call in when we pick her up.” John set the radio back on the dashboard.



Roger glanced at him, then back at the road. “You okay with this one?” Suicides were always hard on his partner.



John swallowed. “Yeah. Take a left, then it’s at the end.”



The next half mile was driven in silence. It was obvious which house they were going to, because there was already a marked and unmarked police car parked in front of the small split-level house, lights flashing. On the other side of the street, curious neighbors in bathrobes and pajamas were standing at the curb.



When the ambulance pulled up, one of the police officers directed them to a space behind the squad car. The other two harried-looking officers were circulating am.



Roger grabbed the jump-bag from between the seats. “I’ll take point.”



They had been working together long enough that he really didn’t need to say it, they traded every other call, but the routine went the same way each time. One would grab the jump bag, which contained all of the supplies that could get them through a basic call. The point would interview the victim if possible, and coordinate any maneuvers. The other would follow his lead, interview any by-standers that knew anything about the incident, and retrieve any other necessary equipment from the ambulance.



The front door was ajar when the paramedics reached the porch. Another uniformed police officer directed them to the bedroom at the top of the stairs.



He filled them in on their way into the house. “We’re pretty sure the victim is the owner of the house, Danielle Meyers. Looks like she tried to kill herself but changed her mind. The sheets from the bed were wrapped around her wrists.”



On their way inside, the trio passed an immaculate kitchen and dinning room, and glimpsed a more lived-in looking great room on the lower floor. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway with several doors on either side. John assumed they hid other bedrooms and a bathroom or two.



“Who called it in?” Roger asked the officer.



Perplexed, the man replied, “We don’t know. The door was unlocked when we got here, and no one was here. They called it in as a break-in, but she’s the only one in the house.”



John looked at him sharply. “Are you sure it was a suicide?”



The look on the officer’s face made it clear that that had already occurred to him. “We don’t know. I was just coming down to grab my camera to document the scene as much as possible while you guys work. CSU will be here in a few.”



He stopped beside the door of the master bedroom to let the paramedics enter first. The door to the bedroom was open, revealing the two other police officers next to the victim. John recognized the plain-clothes officers as Lydia Clemens and Josh Hartley, two officers who specialized in hostage negotiation. The dispatcher must have thought there would be someone to talk down.



Roger entered with the jump bag and began assessing the victim. Lydia explained to John that they had used the sheet that she had wrapped around her wrists and simply wrapped it tighter to stem the bleeding. Lydia had also noted a strange wound on her hip, but it wasn’t bleeding, so they didn’t worry about it.



“Could you go down and get the longboard from the back of the rig?” John asked. The girl probably didn’t need a back board, but it would be impossible to do CPR on the soft surface of a regular stretcher if she needed it.



The girl lay on her back with strips of bed sheets wrapped around either forearm. One of the officers had laid another sheet over the lower half of her naked body in an attempt to preserve her privacy.



Her porcelain skin contrasted sharply with the tangled locks that framed her face. There was also blood on her lip and bruising around her throat. John realized, gazing at her face, he had seen her before.



John knelt next to Josh, and indicated that he would take over monitoring the bleeding. Roger was recording her blood pressure, pulse rate, and breathing rate on his clipboard.



Josh stood to allow them room to work. The young uniformed officer had followed them into the bedroom and was snapping pictures with a small Kodak disposable. John was still trying to place where he had seen her before, but noted with relief that the blood was not soaking through the outer layer of sheets.



Finally, Roger checked the capillary refill in the tips of her fingers, which indicated the end of the initial work-up. When he was satisfied that she was still getting blood to her extremities, Roger began barking orders.



“Okay, when Lydia comes back with the board, you two are going to roll her this way, and she’s going to slide the board under.” He ran through the instructions quickly. It was best that everyone understand their role before any maneuver happened.



Lydia returned with the board, and the four of them quickly got the woman strapped to it. Roger counted off the lift, and John allowed Josh to take the feet end of the stretcher. He wanted to talk to Lydia on their way out. Something about the scenario seemed out of place, but John couldn’t put a finger on what it was.



John could hear Roger instructing Josh out in the hall. “We’re going to elevate her feet when we get her on the stretcher, so we don’t exacerbate the hypovolemic shock. I’ll hang a liter of saline when we get down there.”



Before they exited the room, John took a moment to look around. The bed was in a state of disarray and damp with blood in the center. That must have been where she did it. The window next to the bed was broken, but there was no blood on the pane, so it was unlikely that she had used the glass to cut the wounds in her wrists. He didn’t see anything else in the room that could have made the wounds. The sheets had been shredded and used as bandages, the remaining scraps littered about the floor. There was also a phone on the floor next to the dresser that had been knocked off its hook and smeared with blood.



‘She must have had second thoughts.’ John thought sadly.



John and Lydia exited the room. The uniformed officer was just finishing up, and would go out to call for a forensics tech when he was finished.



“John?” Lydia knew by the look on his face that something was bothering him. Likely the same thing that was bothering her.



“There’s something not quite right about this whole thing. Who called in the break-in? What did she use to do cut herself with? I didn’t see anything in that room that could have been used to make wounds like that.”



Lydia was impressed. She had been thinking the same thing, but she certainly didn’t think a paramedic would have thought of it.



They had reached the entrance of the house and saw that the crowd outside had gotten bigger. John split off toward the ambulance to help his partner get the solid board strapped to the wheeled stretcher in the back of the ambulance. Lydia would circulate through the crowd and try to find anyone that had details about the victim.



Roger and Josh waited while John climbed into the back of the ambulance. Once he was inside, Roger handed his side of the board into the truck climbed in too. He then took the board from Josh and got the girl secured to the stretcher inside.



The officer waited while the paramedics hooked up an IV of saline to increase the hemovolitic pressure in her veins and attached EKG sensors to her chest to monitor her heart rate on the way to the hospital. The two worked quickly. They knew that without a blood transfusion, she probably wouldn’t make it. Though, they were heartened by her current state. It was much more promising than they had expected when the call came in.



“All set?” Josh asked when Josh jumped down.



“I think so.” John replied. “It looks like she might actually make it thanks to you guys.”



The officer looked relieved. “That’s good. It’s a shame to see a young woman like that thinking that suicide is the way out.”



John nodded absently and climbed into the driver’s compartment. Something was still bugging him about the girl. Then it dawned on him.



John turned back to the officer. “I just remembered where I’ve seen her. She’s Ames’s niece.”



The man swore. Detective Thomas Ames was known for his quick temper and protectiveness towards his family. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation for whoever had to tell him.



“Alright, I’ll get on the horn as soon as you guys leave,” Josh replied. “He’s on vacation this week, so I’ll have to have someone at the station track him down and send him over to the hospital.”



John nodded and started up the ambulance. He hoped they had gotten to her in time.