With the light of his headlamp, Garen began surveying the damage. She was crying and sobbing, so her airway was open and she was at least semi-conscious. His first priority was to find the source of all the blood on her.
“Where are you hit? Talk to me, stay with me. Where are you hit?”
She kept crying and trying to move. Every time she tried, she screamed in pain. Her body was contorted awkwardly. There were a few things bent in ways they shouldn’t be and weren’t intended to go. He hated to go this route but he needed to get some semblance of control over her and get data. Reaching in a little armored tube on his med bag, he brought forth a small lollypop.
“Here, Angelique, Angelique, ANGELIQUE! Listen to ME! Put this in your cheek. It will make you feel better and not hurt so much. DO NOT CHEW IT!” He leaned forward and tucked the 800mcg transmucosal fentanyl stick into the cheek. He knew this would take effect quickly and let him better assess her, either before or after she passed out. He just had to keep an eye on her level of consciousness. Time to get back on the radio.
“ATC, this is Rampart 53. Need a fox and some hands.” He went back to work He was unbuckling the gear she had on. The only way to see what was injured and where was to get all the bloody, gooey clothes away from her and see where the wounds were. He barely heard the radio’s reply.
“Rampart 53, help inbound. How is your location marked?”
Shit! He forgot it would be hard to id their location. He stood up and could see the open doorway across the store. He pulled out his strobe, activated it and threw it as hard as he could, aiming for the street. The baseball gods were with him and it actually made it out the door, clattering to the street.
“East of the eagles nest, strobe and bodies, we are under cover.” He turned back to his patient.
She was making less sound now, the drug really starting to take effect. Garen took her head in his hands, looked her squarely in the eyes. Her pupils were just tiny pinpricks in her hazel eyes.
“Angelique. Look at me. We will get you out of here. I will do everything in my power to fix you. To do this, I need you to trust me.”
She weakly tried to nod her head in acknowledgement. Garen took this as a good sign.
“You rest now and let me get to work.” He finished unbuckling her gear. Next was what he needed her trust for, and the drugs. Out came the rescue hook. With skill, knowledge and practice, a medic using a hook can take a fully clothed soldier and make them start raving naked in under a minute and a half. Three and a half if the boots need to be cut rather than just the laces.
The beam of his headlamp bounced off the sheen of her sweat soaked body. His hands were everywhere his eyes went, looking for the source of all the blood. He couldn’t find a source on her of all the blood she was covered with. Serious scrapes, bruises, a couple cuts, but no major holes. He also found her major injuries, and they explained the pain she was in and why any movement was excruciating. She had a potentially broken left radius and ulna, a dislocated left shoulder and a potentially dislocated hip or broken pelvis. That scared the everloving crap out of him. Dislocated, he can work. Pelvic fracture is a much greater issue. If that was the case, he would have to find a way to get her out to a real hospital.