say a tension pneumothorax is highly likely. You’ll have to do a needle decompression.’
A look of alarm crossed Wendy’s features. ‘I’m not qualified to do that! The only thing I do with cannulae is put IVs in. We’ll have to get her out so that you can do it.’
‘There’s no time.’
‘But I don’t think she’s actually trapped under that slab. There’s other stuff holding it up and I’m pretty sure I could shift some of it. We could get a harness on her and lift her out.’
‘There’s still not enough time. If it is a tension pneumothorax and she’s deteriorating this quickly you’ll have a respiratory arrest on your hands within the next couple of minutes if you don’t release the air in the chest cavity. You can do it, Wendy.’ Ross was already sorting the gear she would need into a pouch. ‘I’ll talk you through it.’
‘OK.’ Wendy’s tone advertised her trust in his judgement. She still looked scared, however. ‘But I’m depending on you here, Ross.’
Ross had every confidence in his dependability. And in Wendy’s ability.
‘Find the second intercostal space in the mid-clavicular line,’ he instructed calmly. ‘That’s the point for the needle insertion.’
Wendy put clean gloves on, swabbed the skin with an alcohol wipe and ripped open the sterile package containing the cannula. The tiny shake Ross could see in her hands was gone the moment the needle penetrated the skin.
‘Keep the pressure on. It’s tougher than getting into a vein.’
‘I’ve got it, Ross. I can hear the hissing.’
‘Good girl. Well done.’ It was a small miracle that the noise in the surrounding area had dropped with such good timing. The reason for the sudden quiet became apparent as Ross finished his directions for Wendy to secure the cannula. He could hear the faint shout from another USAR squad working nearby.
‘Rescue team here. Can you hear me?’
Wendy had also heard the call. ‘That sounded like Fletch.’ She was reassessing her patient as she spoke. ‘Colour’s improving,’ she reported happily. ‘What next, Ross?’
‘IV access,’ Ross said promptly. ‘We’ll get some fluids running. Then we’ll see what we can do about getting her out. We might try getting her into a body splint, too. There’s no way we’re going to get a backboard down there.’
It took careful management and the skills of more than one rescue team to extricate the survivor but their success made the extraordinary effort worthwhile. By the time the woman was securely strapped into a Stokes basket for transport, her blood pressure had risen thanks to the fluid load, her respiratory distress was only mild and she had regained consciousness enough to tell them her name and thank her rescuers. A life had been saved. Wendy and Ross were congratulated as being the tight single unit everyone knew them to be.
And Ross was walking on air.
He laughed aloud when Wendy rolled her eyes at him to communicate her exasperation with Kyle’s impatience to get back to some action.
‘We’re supposed to be searching Level 2. What’s taking so bloody long?’
Wendy looked tired and Ross knew just how drained she would be feeling as they watched the stretcher carrying their patient pass into the hands of the paramedics waiting at the triage tent. An ambulance was also ready, its beacons flashing. USAR Squad 4 turned back to the mall to continue their shift. Kyle led the way alongside Tony. Ross walked at the back, his arm resting lightly on Wendy’s shoulders.
‘You did a fantastic job in there,’ he told her. ‘I’m really proud of you.’
The smile he received in response temporarily wiped out any hint of exhaustion or discomfort. The rub of grimy overalls, the gritty, sore eyes, the various bruises and scrapes were forgotten. The fact that they were crunching through broken glass and walking into a dark and threatening environment with only the beams from their headlamps to illuminate the hazards did nothing to dim the joy Ross felt. He wanted to say more to Wendy. To tell her just how much he loved her. He wanted to stop and pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Of course, he would do nothing that inappropriate. He would just return the smile and hope that something of what he was feeling would be communicated by the pressure of his arm around her shoulders and the sincere tone of the words he had spoken.
‘Thanks.’ Reading the expression in eyes partially obscured by dusty goggles was unreliable but Wendy’s smile broadened into the impish grin he loved. She spoke loudly enough to make it plain she didn’t share the inhibition Ross found their situation imposed. ‘Love you.’
And suddenly Ross didn’t care where he was or who might overhear either. Or even that it could be considered unprofessional.
‘Love you, too.’
He was still walking on air. And it felt like flying. This kind of joy was so new to Ross. It had been in his life for only a matter of weeks. Since he had met Wendy Watson, in fact, and discovered the unimagined pleasure of being with someone who could only be considered a soul mate.
He could hear Kyle’s voice rising with excitement ahead of the rest of the squad. ‘I heard something. There’s someone here—calling for help!’
Ross moved into position as the team made a line to begin a systematic search of the Level 2 area. A hairdressing salon had partially collapsed into a shop on the ground floor. More internal walls had fallen upstairs and there were piles of debris and voids to search. The signal of three short blasts on a whistle called for silence, and gradually the sounds coming from beneath and around them faded.
Ross started the calls. ‘Rescue team here. Can you hear me?’
He waited. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. ‘Nothing heard.’
‘Rescue team here. Can you hear me?’ Wendy’s small frame could produce a remarkably loud voice and Ross found himself smiling.
It was so much a part of her. That energy...and strength. Making love to her had been a revelation all of its own. Touching that lithe, fine body that defied any attempt to be treated as fragile, because Wendy’s enthusiasm and generosity affected her love-making as much as every other aspect of her personality. Ross had the sudden wish that this incident was over with. That he and Wendy could be somewhere by themselves and negate the horror of the last twenty-four hours by a very private celebration of life...and their love.
He could hear Kyle again but the young firefighter wasn’t using the well-rehearsed calling system. He wasn’t using any words at all. The call rose in pitch and volume. A dreadful scream. And then a cry for help.
‘Help! Someone, help me!’
A figure writhed in the shadows. Ross could see him more clearly as he moved closer. The beam from his headlamp jerked and then steadied and he could see what the problem was. A thin rod of reinforcing steel protruded from a broken concrete slab. The end of the rod was bent into a right angle that Kyle hadn’t seen in the darkness. He couldn’t see the tip of the rod because it had penetrated the thick fabric of Kyle’s overalls and was now lodged in the soft flesh of his calf muscle.
‘Don’t touch my leg, man! It hurts!’
