Aftershock Read Online Free

the dirt off her cheek, swallowing hard.
    A muscle in his jaw flexed and he looked away. “Sorry,” he
muttered. “If you get hurt, we’re all screwed.”
    It took her a few seconds to understand what he meant. He was
apologizing for jumping on her. As if she’d be offended by his gallant attempt
to keep her safe. “It’s okay,” she said, moistening her lips. Her voice sounded
husky.
    “Everyone all right out there?” Don called from the RV.
    Garrett answered with an affirmative, and Lauren pulled herself
together. She should be worrying about her patients, not her libido. Thankfully,
none of the debris had tumbled their way. A few IV bags had been knocked loose.
She was already running low on supplies, but she worked with what she had, and
cared for the victims as well as she could.
    Around noon, one of her patients began to experience severe
respiratory distress. Lauren was aware that he had broken ribs. When she
listened to his chest sounds again, it became clear that one of the splinters
had punctured his lung.
    “Oh no,” she breathed, noting his rapid pulse and low blood
pressure. He’d been semiconscious; now he was completely out, his skin turning
blue. His carotid artery and jugular vein were distended, screaming for
oxygen.
    “What is it?” Garrett asked.
    “His lung collapsed,” she said, trying to stay calm. This was a
life-threatening emergency. Placing the oxygen mask over his face, she increased
the output levels. Then she searched her supplies for a large needle and a
syringe. Cutting away the front of his shirt, she found the intercostal space
above his third rib.
    She tore an alcohol swab open and wiped the spot. Working
quickly, she stabbed the needle straight down into his chest.
    It was a clean strike, sinking into his pleural cavity. She
drew back the plunger and watched the syringe fill up with blood.
    Damn.
    A collapsed lung failed to function properly because of excess
air or fluid in the cavity. If the problem was too much air, the lung couldn’t
contract on its own, but she could do needle decompressions to release tension.
Although excess blood could also be removed, she wouldn’t be able to stanch the
flow.
    Dealing with severe internal bleeding was beyond her
capabilities. Beyond the abilities of any paramedic under these circumstances. A
patient with this kind of chest trauma was doomed unless he made it to a
surgeon’s table.
    But Lauren couldn’t just stand there and watch the man die, so
she extracted as much blood from the lung cavity as possible. It was like trying
to put her finger on the dam. Her patient expired within minutes.
    Shaken, she set the syringe aside and picked up her
stethoscope, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing. She pronounced him dead at
12:22 p.m.
    He wasn’t the first person she’d lost, and he wouldn’t be the
last. Emergency services personnel couldn’t afford to dwell on disappointments
like this; they had to move on quickly. Lauren was good at that. Paramedics and
EMTs didn’t do follow-up. Their focus was safe transport, not long-term
care.
    Despite her vast experience with death, this one wasn’t easy.
They were trapped under several layers of freeway, so safe transport was out.
She didn’t have the resources or the expertise for ongoing critical care.
    Although Garrett had jumped to protect her during the
aftershock, he made no attempt to comfort her now. He stayed back and gave her
space. She appreciated his reserve; if he’d shown a hint of compassion, she
might have fallen apart.
    Letting out a slow breath, she covered the dead man with a
towel. Her remaining patients were unconscious, but stable.
    “Can you come with me to check on the others?” Garrett asked
quietly.
    “Sure,” she said, rising to her feet.
    She donned her hard hat and accompanied Garrett on a final
sweep of the cavern. He couldn’t evaluate the wounded as well as she could.
Several people were suffering, but as he’d said, they probably wouldn’t