Loud electronic tones coming from a speaker ceiling of the fire station bunkroom awakened Len Dewey. The night had been quiet and he'd gone to bed hoping to get a good night's sleep and get off duty without any more calls. He was meeting Marion the next day and wanted to be rested.
"James County Emergency Operations Center dispatching Station one, Ambulance two. Respond to a two-car MVA at the intersection of Lakeshore Boulevard and Main Street. Report of people trapped. Time out 0300. K-G-G 357," the dispatcher announced.
"Damn! Just five hours to end of shift! So much for having a good night's sleep and getting off duty on time," Len thought as sat up on his bunk and slipped into the bunker pants and rubber boots sitting on the floor next to his bed. "MVA" meant motor vehicle accident. This time of day it likely meant alcohol involvement, and if two cars were involved, it could be messy.
Len pulled his suspenders over his shoulders, stood up and started toward the apparatus floor. His bunker coat and helmet were already in the paramedic vehicle he drove.
The fire station's overhead doors were already opening when Len slipped behind the wheel of the red and white four-wheel drive truck with special paramedic body mounted on it and fired up the engine.
He could hear the sound of the diesel engines in the other apparatus starting, then lights began flashing as the rest of the firefighters in the station jumped aboard the ambulance and pumper and prepared to respond to the crash with him.
"James County EOC from Station one," Len heard the captain say on the radio. "Station one is responding to the MVA at Lakeshore and Main."
"James County EOC from Ambulance two," came another voice. "Ambulance two responding to Lakeshore and Main."
While the dispatcher at the Jamestown Emergency Operations Center acknowledged the radio calls, Len put the paramedic truck in "drive" and headed out of the station. When he reached the street, he turned right, and reached for the portable radio in a bracket between the seats. It was his link to medical control, or "Medcon," in fire department jargon.
He pushed the button on the side of the portable radio. "James County Medic One to Medcon," he said, "Medic One is responding to a two-car MVA. We have a report of victims trapped, unknown injuries."
"Medcon to James County Medic one, we copy," came the reply from the base station at the hospital. "We'll keep you on standby."
Len led the procession of fire apparatus down the street and turned onto Main Street. Two blocks down, he could see flashing blue lights. He pressed down on the rescue truck's accelerator. As he got closer to the scene, he saw two badly mangled vehicles tangled up in the middle of the street.
It looked as if the cars had hit head-on. Even though it was three o'clock in the morning, a crowd had begun to gather.
Len braked the rescue to a stop, then got out.
A young police officer came running over to him. "You have two victims," the young cop said breathlessly. "A man and a woman in the Mercedes. They don't look too good."
"What about the driver in the other car?" Len asked as he got his medical gear out of a compartment in the back of the truck.
"Had his seatbelt on, car had an airbag. He walked away without a scratch," the cop said.
"What have we got, Len?" Captain Hughes asked. Several of the firefighters from the pumper were helping Len with his equipment.
"Two, trapped in the Mercedes," Len replied.
It took Len and the other firefighters almost a half-hour to cut the two victims from the wrecked Mercedes. Len spent much of that time in the car with the victims, monitoring their vital signs, while the men from the engine company cut the car apart using the hydraulic rescue tool often called the "Jaws of Life."
The man was badly hurt but didn't look critical. From what Len could tell, he had at least one broken leg, some broken ribs, and a lot of cuts and bruises. He couldn't be sure about internal injuries. One thing he was sure of; the man's breath smelled heavily of alcohol.
The woman was much more seriously injured. She hadn't been wearing her seatbelt and had hit the windshield, suffering serious facial injuries and a possible severe head injury. She, too, appeared to have a broken leg, and Len had a suspicion she might have serious internal injuries as well. Len wasn't sure she was going to make it.
He did all he could. He got IV's going in both victims, put oxygen on both of them, and continued to monitor them as his fellow firefighters opened up the car. Finally, they were able to remove both patients from the vehicle. After they splinted the man's broken leg, the crew of Ambulance Two took the male patient. The woman went in Ambulance One and, since she was most seriously injured, Len rode to the hospital with her.
On the way to the hospital, the woman's vital signs continued to deteriorate. Len kept Medcon posted. He studied the woman. She was blonde, probably in her early twenties, and might have been attractive before the crash. She probably wouldn't be any more, he thought.
When they arrived at the hospital, the woman was immediately taken to the trauma room. Len went along with her. The hospital was generally short of staff at this hour, so he had to stay with the patient and assisted the emergency room crew in providing treatment. He'd have to stay there until the doctor released him.
It took more than two hours, but they finally did manage to get the woman stabilized. She was sent upstairs to the intensive care unit.
"What do you think her chances are?" Len asked Dr. Armbruster as they walked out of the trauma room.
"I don't think that young lady's ever going to be the same again," the doctor replied sadly. "With head injuries like hers, I'll be surprised if there isn't some brain damage. And her face is destroyed. The best plastic surgeon in the world isn't going to be able to give her back the face she had before that wreck."
"Son of a bitch!" Len said. "All because of some asshole who didn't know enough to drink and drive."
"You think the guy driving was drunk?" the doctor asked.
