‘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.
‘There’s some new cracks appearing. This sector’s unstable. You’re going to have to evacuate. Now!’
Joe simply nodded. He reached for the shears in his belt and Jessica’s jaw dropped as she saw what he intended to do.
‘He was going to lose this foot anyway,’ Joe said tersely. ‘At least this way he might not lose his life.’
The noise level around them was dropping dramatically as equipment was abandoned and people ran for safety. In the few seconds of silence that accompanied Joe’s gruesome task of completing the amputation of their patient’s right foot, Jessica heard a new sound. A terrifying, inhuman kind of moan. It wasn’t loud but it was enough to make the hairs on Jessica’s neck stand on end and a prickle of perspiration break out down the length of her spine. Something—something huge—was shifting fractionally.
Just fractionally—but how far did it need to move to lose its last hold on stability? How many minutes, or seconds, might they have before that critical point was reached and the space they were in was swallowed up by forces they would have no chance to escape?
Joe tied a pressure bandage on the man’s leg to finish the fastest procedure Jessica had ever witnessed. ‘Let’s move,’ he barked.
Other hands grabbed the backboard and deposited it without ceremony in the Stokes basket. No time was taken for any kind of strapping. They all knew they had to get going. And they had to move fast. Medical supplies were abandoned, along with all the other rescue gear littering the area. The men carrying the basket were moving at a stumbling run that looked deceptively easy to keep up with. Jessica lurched, turning her