Page 85 of Fire & Ice

Right away, Leander starts to panic for an entirely different reason, wondering if thatwasthe opening he’s been waiting for and he just—oh, no.

Tripp is already turning towards the door when Leander jumps off of the couch and follows. “Tripp,” he calls out. “Tripp, wait.”

“No worries, Lee,” Tripp says, huffing a little laugh and turning to face him. Up close, Tripp just looks tired, but his smile is genuine again, and Leander wonders if he imagined the strain being there at all. It’s certainly possible, the way he’s been all up in his own feelings about this mess. As a test, he opens his arms imploringly, and Tripp moves so quickly, he nearly falls into them. Squeezing Leander tight, he rocks them both back and forth, from side to side.

“Alright,” Tripp says, reassuring. “We’re good, pal.”

When he pulls back, Tripp winks and claps Leander on the shoulder. “Text me when you get to work. Lemme know who you’re on with and stuff. If my guys are up for it, I’ll see if they wanna grab coffee and donuts, bring the engine down, we can all hang at your place. Play cards or something. Cool?”

It’s been a while since they’ve done anything like that, and Leander finds himself nodding enthusiastically. It would be a real pleasure to see Tripp socially at work, and it would probably go a long way towards soothing his own frayed nerves and fear of some potential misunderstanding brewing between them. Plus, poker and company will make work seem hardly like work at all.

“Yes,” he agrees. “That would be wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.”

Tripp waves as the door closes behind him. “I’ll see ya, Lee.”

Despite their apparent resolution, the click of the lock leaves Leander feeling totally unsettled. No one is dropping and everything, on paper, is fine. And yet, something doesn’tfeel right. Leander can’t help but worry that he’s made a huge misstep, missed an opening he was too busy looking for to actuallysee.

That would be so like him, Leander is reluctant to dismiss the possibility.

He stands in the middle of the entryway, wiping his suddenly-sweaty hands against his pajama pants and angsting over the possibility. Hopefully, if he did screw this up, it’s nothing he can’t fix in time.

***

“And your medical history, tell me again about that,” Leander prompts. He’s balancing his clipboard on his thighs while bracing his feet against the bars of the stretcher to keep himself from sliding around on the bench seat. Sirens wail in the background, not so much out of necessity for their patient, but the need to get the ambulance back in service quickly—all of the area’s trucks are tied up on calls.

“Well,” begins the slight, frail, elderly woman who is currently strapped to Leander’s stretcher. “There’s my high blood pressure.” He plasters on a practiced, ‘interested and empathetic’ expression, but inwardly, he’s sighing. Mrs. Baxter calls 911 several times a month complaining of chest pain, but in reality, she’s just very lonely and prone to indigestion. Still, Leander’s job isn’t to judge—everyone with “chest pain” gets the same workup, regardless of his opinion on it.

Thus, for the second time in two weeks, Mrs. Baxter is riding in the back of City Medic Two, hooked up to a cardiac monitor, blood pressure cuff, and pulse ox, having been given aspirin and a nitroglycerin tablet left to dissolve under her tongue. She particularly dislikes that part but always says thatit helps with her pain, so Leander can’t even get away with skipping it.

He taps his pen on the side of the clipboard and cycles her blood pressure again, absently glancing out the back window to see the lines on the highway whipping along through the ambulance’s tail lights before disappearing into inky blackness.

Mrs. Baxter is rattling on about her diabetes and the stent she had placed in 2002, but Leander’s only half-listening. Nothing about her medical history has changed in the five or so days since he brought her in last, and the hospital will have an accurate record to print for him. His question was mainly to give Mrs. Baxter something to chat about, since left to her own devices, she’s eternally trying to set him up with her (supposedly) very accomplished and attractive single granddaughter.

They’re headed to the smaller, rural hospital just beyond the outskirts of the city, so the ride is slightly longer than Leander is used to. When they’re five minutes out, he calls report in to the Emergency Department over the radio and transmits a copy of the EKG (normal, nothing acute going on that he can identify) along with it. Since Mrs. Baxter seems to be the very picture of stability, Leander disconnects her from the monitor to take her out of the rig and wheel her inside upon their arrival.

The ED is busy tonight, especially for the smaller hospital which tends to see less traffic, but the board above the EMS entrance has them already assigned to a room. Leander waves and nods a greeting to some of the staff members as he and Marley navigate the litter through the heart of the emergency room and then down a side hallway. As they’re transferring Mrs. Baxter from their bed to the hospital’s, both of their pagersandLeander’s radio simultaneously activate, creating an obnoxious clash of beeping sounds and static.

This far inside the hospital, the dispatcher’s voice is muffled and broken, but after squelching his pager and dimming the volume on his radio, Leander is able to discern that they’re being called to standby at a building fire.

Distractedly, he gives report to the ED nurse and kisses Mrs. Baxter goodbye on the cheek—as annoying as she might be, she’s basically family for how often Leander sees her—and wishes her luck. Marley replenishes their supplies and grabs a demographic print out from registration for Leander’s chart while he heads outside and clarifies with dispatch who is needed on the incoming call.

The unexpectedly dramatic bottom line turns out to be thateveryoneis needed. This is a multi-story blaze in an abandoned, industrial building on the south side of town. There are reports of homeless encampments inside, which will need to be checked for and cleared by the firefighters. Only one victim—a night security guard with complaints of difficulty breathing after smoke inhalation—has been reported. Several fire companies are already on their way, and Medic One, staffed with Zosia and Echo tonight, is clearing from Central and enroute as well.

Leander places Medic Two responding as Marley gets them back out on the road, flipping on their lights and sirens and putting the pedal to the floor. Over text message, Zosia and Leander coordinate a decision to request two other ambulances from the county to come and assist their efforts. There’s always a possibility that the extra support won’t be needed, but it’s infinitely better to have too many hands and nothing to do, rather than too many patients and not enough help.

At the very least, this looks to be an all-night sort of event, and one of their trucks will be grounded at the scene, unable to leave, overseeing both firefighter rehab and any necessary patient triage. Better to have the option of an additional transport truck, or even local 911 coverage.

Better safe than sorry, Leander decides.

Once all of that’s settled, there’s nothing to do but get there. He and Marley are quiet, listening to scene status updates over the fire band as they drive.

So much for poker night,Leander thinks dejectedly. He knows he shouldn’t be petulant. After all, this is hisjob,and he and Tripp had a wonderful weekend together. But Tripp’s been short with him over text messages this evening, not the warm and affectionate version of the man Leander’s become spoiled with lately.

He scrolls through their text thread anyway, sending off a,“Be careful,”message that he doubts Tripp will even see. In fact, Tripp may already be packed up and inside the burning building—likely, even, since his station is located right down the street.

Earlier, Leanderwasharboring some concerns that Tripp’s distant attitude meant that he was dropping. Unfortunately, they were both so busy, a physical check-in was patently out of the question. Leander’s learned from his past mistakes, though, so after transferring care of his patient and before putting the truck back in service, he stepped around to the side of Central’s ER for some privacy in order to make a call.

Upon hearing Tripp’s voice, Leander could tell that wasn’t the case, that he wasn’t dropping, and that, at least, was a relief. Something still seemedoffabout the man, though, and whatever it was, Tripp wasn’t sharing. When they hung up, Leander didn’t feel much better than before they spoke.

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