Starting Over

Chapter 8

Chapter 8The early morning sun rose over the distant hills, staining the billowing clouds a deep plum hue. Trade Street was quiet as Andy drove past shuttered markets, shops, galleries and office buildings. Here and there, trash cans and boxes stuffed with cardboard gathered on the curbs. Ahead, ornamental cast-iron street lamps were dressed in festive evergreen garlands. Tiny white lights twinkled around them. The city was readying itself for the Christmas holiday.

But he wasn't feeling in the holiday mood this morning. The trial for the civil suit loomed in the near future. He tried to ignore the ominous threat that could unravel the fragile life he'd stitched together since the accident. The crushing headache he had wasn't helping. He kneaded the back of his neck as he cruised down the street with Jack riding shotgun. The dog had his nose poking out the partially open passenger-side window, sniffing the crisp winter air. He reached over and ran his hand over the beagle's smooth tri-color coat and turned the heater down. Even the sound of the fan clanged in his ears.

When he came to 17th Street, he turned left, pointed his Suburban down the wide, empty lane and headed toward his store. Hopefully, Tyler remembered to pick up the repair part from Benjamin's for the latte machine. When he neared the storefront, he saw Amanda's car parked out front. He pulled in behind her Caravan, killed the engine and popped a couple more Tylenol.

“Come on, boy.” He opened the car door, letting the dog scramble out. The dog shook himself off, and with tail wagging scooted for Amanda, who was propping the front door open. The savory scent of French Roast coffee swirled out, dragging in the morning crowd. It was one of her proven marketing devices. But it was the homemade cinnamon rolls that really dragged them in. His stomach rumbled as he anticipated biting into one of her fresh baked, warm pastries. They were the best part of his mornings. He grabbed his satchel and shut the car door as Amanda stood wiping her hands on the tail of the towel hanging over her shoulder. She pulled a wisp of hair over her ear and headed toward him. Her printed green and yellow checkerboard apron swished back and forth at the hips. She didn't look happy.

“You need to go to Lonnegan's. We're out of coffee. I would've gone, but Jonah called in; something about having to deal with his benefits package at the VA.”

He slumped his shoulders. “That's right. He mentioned something about maybe having to go deal with it.” He glanced at his watch. It was ten after six. With a thirty-minute round trip drive to the restaurant supply store and a ten-minute wait, he'd just make it back before the morning rush. He handed her the satchel with the opening cash drawer and marched back to his car. As he got in, he said, “I'll be back in forty. Try to save me a roll, will ya?”

“I'll do my best,” she replied over her shoulder as she ushered Jack in ahead of her.

“So much for getting ahead with my inventory,” he muttered, starting the car. He pulled away from the curb and cruised down the street that was just waking up with the early morning rush hour traffic. Five minutes later, he was on the arterial heading west. If the lights cooperated, he might slice five minutes off the trip. He moved into the left lane and followed the road as it veered around the office buildings heading toward the Center Street Bridge. On his left, he passed Riverfront City Park. Beyond its sleeping brown lawn was the Willamette River. He glanced nonchalantly over its flowing gray waters and thought about how to handle his undependable young employee, Tyler Evans.

Suddenly, a loud screech and a booming thud ripped his attention back to the road. He hit the brakes. Took in the rising smoke lifting off the crumpled hood of a Caddy that had rammed the driver's side door of an SUV. Then, as always before, his hard-wired reflexes kicked in. He pressed down on the accelerator, and as he headed for the accident, ticked down the list of priorities. First thing was to get emergency response on the way. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

“Yes, I'm on the scene of a two vehicle accident. Intersection of Front and…” He paused looking for the street sign. When he saw it, said, “and Chemeketa Street. Late model, white SUV in the median. Older model Caddy across the lane. One driver in the Caddy and … looks like a driver and a passenger in the SUV … Unknown injuries.” Oh, s**t! “We have a fire … Caddy … hold on.” He pulled up twenty yards behind the accident. Went to flip the warning light toggle, which wasn't there of course. f**k. He fumbled for his flashers and after turning them on, parked in the lane to prevent other cars from running into the accident. Putting the cell on speaker mode, he tucked it in his shirt pocket in the open position. Running to the back of his Suburban, he opened the tailgate and fished out three flares and an extinguisher. As he did so, a dump truck pulled up along beside him. The door of the truck opened and a tall, blond man jumped out. When the man started running toward the burning Caddy, Andy whistled.

“Hey, I need you back here, buddy.”

The man stopped. Turned and looked at him.

“I'm a paramedic,” Andy hollered, waving him over. When the man wavered, he made his voice more emphatic. “Look, you wanna help, you need to listen to me. First we need to make this scene safe.”

“What about the guy in that car,” the man said coming toward him.

“I'm going after him right now,” Andy replied, holding out the flares. “In the meantime, I need you to light these up and space 'em out on the road behind us. And keep people back until emergency response shows up. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” Andy saw a car heading down the road toward them. Nodding at it, he said, “Better get to it then – looks like we have company coming. Oh, and take my phone here and keep the operator informed.”

The man grabbed the flares, took the phone and headed off as Andy ran for the burning Caddy. As he neared the wreckage, he slowed, panning his gaze back and forth over the pavement. A puddle of gas was forming around the front driver's side tire. s**t! With the SUV only feet away, his priority was putting out the fire. The problem was he only had a standard two and half pound extinguisher, but this was the hand he was dealt. It was just unfortunate he didn't have four other pairs of hands helping right now. He aimed the nozzle at the flames shooting out from under the crumpled hood of the Caddy and squeezed the trigger. A blast of thick, white powder shot out. As the flames sputtered under the spray, he glanced over at the driver side window. There he saw a man slumped over the wheel with a thin streak of blood running down the side of his face.

He'd witnessed this scene more times than he cared to over his twenty-seven years on the force and knew it wasn't going to end well unless help got there quickly. He glanced over at the SUV and eyed the crushed driver's side door. From what he could see, the passenger was sitting upright. The driver, however, he couldn't see. The flames under the Caddy's hood suddenly flared, drawing his attention from the SUV. He swept the extinguisher's spray over the erupting flames until they died away again. But he knew they could easily come back and with the contents of his extinguisher nearly spent, his decision was made. He reached over and tapped the faded red metal of the Caddy's door with the pad of his finger. It was cool enough, so he grabbed hold and tried to yank it open.

It wouldn't budge. With the smoke starting to ooze out from under the battered hood again, he thought about the passenger side door. But when he saw the pool of gas growing around the front tire, he knew time was running out. He needed more hands on board and he needed them like five minutes ago.

Whether someone upstairs was listening, he didn't know, but suddenly someone ran up beside him and when he looked to his right, saw fierce dark eyes staring back. He nodded at the man and the two of them grabbed the door and pulled. As the door grudgingly started to open, another pair of hands joined in. With a ferocious jerk, the door flung back, almost knocking him down.

“Let's get him over there,” Andy said, pointing to the sidewalk across the street. The man beside him put the arms of the injured driver over his shoulder and started dragging him away. As Andy followed along, he got his first good look at the victim. Whoever he was, he'd lived a good life. His old body, though frail, showed signs of being kept up and his face was clean-shaven. But it was the old man's face that struck Andy. It was ashen, bloodied and bruised. The man was heading for a cardiac arrest.

The man set the old guy on the concrete curb in the shade of an office building and laid him down. Andy knelt on the curb and put his fingers to the old man's neck. Feeling a faint pulse, he gritted his teeth and glanced toward the SUV. Three men and a woman were prying open its passenger side door. Better than nothing, Andy thought. He turned back to the old man. The man who'd laid the old man down was kneeling by his side, looking up at him. Damn it; hurry up, Andy thought, listening for the sound of wailing sirens. But all he heard was the early morning rush hour traffic on the southbound lane across the median.

Andy eyed the old man's ashen face and noticed the light blue cast to the skin. Damn it. “He's crashing.”

He ripped the man's shirt open and placing his palm on the man's chest with his other hand on top, thumped down. He was on the second stroke when a loud 'foo-ump' erupted behind him. A loud cry went up diverting his glance to the wreckage. The hood of the Caddy was thrown back and flames were licking a thick, black plume of smoke spiraling up into the air. Another loud cry came from inside the SUV as the men and woman worked frantically to get the people out of the car. Andy looked upward as he continued to try and resuscitate his patient. Jesus, help me here.

“Whoa, damn,” said a man in the gathered crowd.

“I know CPR,” said a heavy-set, dark-haired woman. She knelt beside Andy. Gently she lifted the old man's chin and waited for Andy to give her a signal for the right moment. When he nodded, she covered the man's nose and blew into his mouth.

Then finally, the sounds of sirens!

The woman blew three more times again then pulled back.

“Come on guy, don't give up on me!” Andy shouted as a squad of EMS and fire trucks came to a screeching halt behind them. Seconds later, two paramedics came running up. One of them pulled on latex gloves while the other spoke into his shoulder anchored radio.

“We have a white male, approximately 60 years old in cardiac arrest,” the paramedic radioed back. He plopped the large, green med-kit bag he was carrying on the curb beside Andy.

“He just crashed,” Andy said, thrusting down again on the old man's chest. Without asking, the paramedic with the radio turned and ran back to the truck. The other EMT told him and the woman to continue CPR while he set up. A moment later the paramedic with the radio sprinted back. In his hand was a defibrillator. His partner reached into the airway bag and yanked a stethoscope out. Setting the unit down, the paramedic with the radio flipped a tube of gel to his partner. Andy backed away as the EMT dabbed the gel on the paddles, rubbed them together as the unit charged and placed them on the old man's chest.

“V-fib. 200 joules. Clear!” the paramedic with the radio said, triggering the charge. The old man's chest raised.

The paramedic put his fingers to the old man's carotid artery and checked for a pulse. Shaking his head, he gelled the paddles up again. Another jolt raised the old man. The EMT checked for a pulse. This time there was a thumbs-up. Andy released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. A minute later, a mask was fixed to the man's face while the EMT's made preparations for his transfer to the hospital.

For the next hour and a half, Andy made himself available to answer questions and helped out wherever he could. As the wrecked vehicles were being towed away, the fire captain came over and stood beside Andy in the grassy median. He extended a thick hand. “I heard you're retired from the force.”

As he shook it, Andy looked up into the slate gray eyes of the towering redheaded man. “Yeah, but I guess we never really retire, do we?”

The captain nodded. “Nope.” They were quiet a moment, then the man continued. “You did good out there today…oh, by the way, I believe this cell phone is yours?”

“Thanks,” Andy said as he slipped it into his pocket. “It turned out a lot better than I thought it was going to. The passengers in the SUV are lucky.”

“Lucky indeed,” the captain echoed back. “So, where do you work out of?”

There it was. The question he didn't want to answer, especially to the discerning captain beside him. News of past accidents involving paramedics had traveled up and down the state before and became etched into the ironclad memories of those who put their lives on the line for others. He sucked a breath. “Lincoln City.”

“Good boys down there from what I understand,” the captain said, surveying the accident scene. “So what do you think? The old man was having a heart attack at the time of the crash?”

“Probably,” Andy agreed, as the knot in his stomach relaxed. “He was ashen and sweating heavily when we dragged him out of the car. It's a good thing your boys got here when they did.” He paused. “Say, I never got the old man's name. I'd like to go see how he's doing later on.”

The captain pulled his two-way radio out. “Hey Eddie, real quick. You get the name of the old man?”

The radio hissed. A second later, a voice came back. “Name's Garrett Andersen, Cap.”

“Thanks bud.” The captain turned to Andy. “Well, there you go. Good luck to you, and drop by some time around lunch. Eddie makes a mean Shepherd's Pie.”

“I'll do that,” Andy replied. As the captain strode away, he ran his hand through his hair. “Well, this has been one hell of a morning.” Oh, s**t, Amanda must be going nuts!

He pulled his cell phone out and saw four voice messages. Sighing, he punched her number in and waited for her to pick up. When she did, he said, “It's me, and before you drill me, I've been dealing with an accident on Front Street…Yes, I'm all right. I'll tell you about it when I get back. Should be there in thirty. Yes, I'll be careful. You worry too much, Panda … Okay, I'm out.”