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Being a doctor, you learn to detach yourself and focus on what’s important. Devoid of emotions in situations like this helps you think clearly. You place your trust on rationality and the years of training, not a gut reaction that sometimes hinders more than it helps.
Logic and knowledge save lives.
“Are they all stable?” I’m already getting up and grabbing my stethoscope. The ambulance port is on the next floor down, and we can only reach them by stairs at the moment.
“All stable except a woman in her early twenties.” His face is serious, and the dark bruises under his eyes speak of his exhaustion. That, and he hasn’t been the same since we left. I know his concern for Crystal is eating at him. “She’s unconscious but had been complaining of lower abdominal pain before losing consciousness. From what we know, a piece of the ceiling fell on her. All others are fine, but they need to be checked for ash inhalation and one has a small gash on the forehead.”
Looking down at the picture of Mila on my phone, I sigh and put the device away in my back pocket. This is going to be a long night, and I have a feeling the Skype date I was hoping for is no longer in the cards.
Eight hours later I leave the hospital and head for the housing unit provided by the organization. I’m bunking with Evan on this trip; he’s already there and should be sleeping.
The driver taking me back zips through the road with care. We’re lucky that while the city is covered in soot, the hospital’s able to remain open with minimal structural damage. Most of the destruction—the heaviest center of activity—went in the opposite direction of where we’re set up.
However, because some roads are closed, we must take a route that cuts through an outer section of town that was hit by a small earthquake. It borders a housing district with colonial-style homes and a few businesses.
We’re twenty minutes from the hospital when the driver stops the car and gets out. There’s shouting, people surround the sidewalk and part of the street, while the sobs of a woman carry through the mass of bodies working together.
All around the building, rescuers work to pull off whatever rubble they can. A pickup truck with some kind of towing mechanism waits to get in and take out the larger pieces of wall.
And at the center of all that stood Evan speaking to a man with an EMT vest.
Exiting the idling car, I run toward him. “What’s going on?”
He turns toward me, the look on his face grim. “We have a male, mid-forties, and trapped. The wall fell over as he was ushering his family out. He’s conscious, but barely.”
Nodding, I turn to look at the paramedic. “What can we do?”
“Right now, we need to get him out while being careful with the structure around him. Another collapse could be fatal.”
“How long has he been trapped?” Evan asks. I can see the wheels turning in his head. His thoughts mirror my own: we need to get him out and checked immediately. We have no idea on the state of his vitals or if he’s breathing without difficulty.
“Three hours.”
“Fuck.” My curse encompasses what we all think. Without another word, we turn and head back to the area. This is a dire situation, and standing here talking isn’t going to do a damn thing.
At once, Evan and I join the others and begin to pull off any piece of rock and concrete we can. My muscles strain and exhaustion looms around the edges, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins pushes me to take another step. To continue.
For the next two hours every person here works tirelessly, using every available body to remove the rubble. We’re blessed that no one else was hurt and the surrounding structure stays in place.
He’s beyond lucky that his injuries are minimal. From the quick examination we give him, we know he has a broken arm and bruised ribs. The impact to the face did manage to break a few teeth and his lip will need stitches, but that seems to be the worst without an X-ray to pinpoint any other possible issues.
Evan made quick work of sending a message to the hospital and our team on the clock. They’re waiting with a hospital bed made available for him, something else the family is beyond thankful for.
It’s about three in the morning when we all call it quits and begin to head home. We’re walking down from the mound of broken concrete when it happens…
Dogs in the area begin to bark, and the floor beneath our feet moves—shakes with force.
Sirens go off in the distance right before what sounds like a massive explosion illuminates the sky. There’s no disguising what we see. The volcano’s eruption lights up the sky, a high cloud of oranges and reds that causes the few of us still standing here to pause.
Nature is beautiful and deceiving.
We’re miles away but can see everything as if we are standing before that mountain.
“We need to get the fuck out of here!” someone yells out and we move, rationality seeping back in as we scramble toward the car. The ground rumbles, and the sound of crumbling buildings is loud all around us. Walls break and windows shatter.
Another shift, and a crash comes from behind me.
Pain sears my shoulder, and then I’m on the ground. There’s blood. I can feel the trickles as they fall from my fingertips and onto a concrete block with a piece of rebar sticking from the edge. Both have splashes of red on them.
