“The bay?” Mike asked. “I thought they were in Blackwater Sound?”
“He must’ve been pushed through the Boggies during the high winds,” replied Hank before turning his attention back to Phoebe. “Listen to me. You know Jessica. She’s the best there is at helping people outside of a hospital. They’re taking Jimmy to Mariner’s in Tavernier. Sonny is with them and so is Peter. We need to go, too.”
Phoebe nodded her head up and down vigorously. She started to pull away and head toward the beach.
Erin had a suggestion. “Mike, I assume your truck has sirens and lights?”
“Yes, of course, although traffic isn’t an issue. It’s the stalled vehicles.”
She stepped closer and kept constant eye contact with him in an effort to convey the message she needed him to understand. “Your family needs to be together. Can you drive them? You know, as quickly as possible?”
Mike got it. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“I can stay here with Erin,” offered Tucker.
“I’ll be—” she began to argue before Tucker cut her off.
“Seriously, I’ll stay. There’s been some things happening, and you’ll need help.”
Erin had a puzzled look on her face, but she acquiesced. Minutes later, Mike, Hank and Phoebe were racing up the highway toward Tavernier.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sunday, November 10
Mariner’s Hospital
Tavernier, Florida
It wasn’t an ambulance, but the E-Z go utility cart had a long enough bed to hold the backboard firmly in place atop a one-inch-thick, vinyl-coated pad. Jessica worked with Sonny and Peter to lift Jimmy out of the boat, where they passed him off to a trauma nurse and two orderlies. The trio drove away with the trauma nurse perched in the back to continue checking Jimmy’s vitals.
“Guys, let’s secure the boat and head to the hospital,” said Peter. “It’s just over a mile from here.”
They wasted no time in tying the boat to the dock at Mangrove Marina. Jessica also locked all of the vessel’s compartments. During the process, they’d drawn the attention of several onlookers, and she was concerned her medical gear would be looted.
They began jogging toward the hospital. Just as they approached the end of Hood Avenue where it intersected with U.S. 1, a sheriff’s deputy drove toward them. Jessica flagged her down, and the two recognized one another.
The deputy offered them a ride to the hospital, but Jessica declined. She needed a bigger favor. She asked the deputy to watch over her boat. She’d been caught in a conundrum between joining the family at the hospital and protecting her gear. The deputy understood and readily offered to watch it for an hour. She was one of many deputies with the MCSO whom Jessica and Mike had a good relationship with. After working closely together for years, they’d learned whom they could count on and trust in a crisis.
The group ran the last quarter mile to the emergency care entrance to the hospital. The pink and tan stucco buildings surrounded by palm trees epitomized the architectural look of the Keys. The large hospital was far less intrusive on the eye than the retail strip centers and convenience stores found on both sides of the highway.
Jessica led the way into the ER, where they found a large group of people waiting to be seen. Accident victims with injuries ranging from broken limbs to bumps on the head were awaiting treatment. A frenzied triage nurse was doing her level best to assess the injuries in order to categorize them.
Patients had a variety of tags hung around their necks with a clip-on chain. A green tag represented someone with minimal, minor injuries. Scrapes, bruises, and shallow puncture wounds, to name a few. A yellow tag was assigned to those who could have their treatment delayed somewhat because their injuries were non-life-threatening.
Jessica’s trained eye scanned the waiting area and the scrum of people huddled around the reception desk. She was relieved that she didn’t see any red tags provided to those who needed immediate attention—patients like Jimmy who’d suffered life-threatening injuries. Lastly, she was glad there were no body bags or gurneys with deceased patients marked with a black toe tag.
She shoved her way through some family members milling about in front of the intake desk. Sonny and Peter followed her through the crowd, perturbed that people wouldn’t get out of the way once their loved one had been assigned the appropriate tag.
“I’m Jessica Albright with the sheriff’s department WET team. I brought a drowning victim in named Jimmy Free. Can you tell me where he is?”
The nurse tucked her hair behind her ears and reached across the desk to take a clipboard from another nurse. She scanned the handwritten notes. “I have a John Doe. Male. Mid-twenties. Brought in by the AmboCart.”
“That’s him. He’s my nephew,” she lied in order to be treated as family. “His uncle and father are with me. Where is he?”
“Trauma eight. End of the hallway.” She pointed to her right.
The three of them forced their way through the crowd and past a security guard, who made a half-hearted attempt to stop them as they rushed through the double doors leading to the trauma wing. The guard had been preoccupied with a man who was inebriated or high on something.
Jessica led them to the nurses’ station in the trauma wing. “What can you tell me about the drowning victim in trauma eight?”
“Are you family?” the nurse asked.
“Yes. All of us are.”
The nurse read the notes on his chart. “He was unconscious on arrival. His breathing was light and labored. A team is in there working on him now. Their first steps were to improve his oxygenation and then to stabilize his circulation. We should know something shortly.”
“Can I see my son?” Sonny’s voice was pleading.
“Sir, he’s not conscious, and we really need to let the trauma team do their jobs. It would be best for you to wait in—” She began to point toward the waiting room before Jessica cut her off.
“We’ll stand at the end of the hallway by the window. I’m a paramedic with the sheriff’s department, and we’d like to be available to provide the doctor his medical history if asked.”
The nurse scowled. Before she could order them out, she was called away by a doctor who’d stuck his head out of another trauma room. The loud, steady blare of a patient coding could be heard as the doctor opened the door.
Jessica nodded her head toward the end of the hallway, and the guys immediately picked up on the subterfuge. They moved quietly and quickly away from the nurses’ station to the window overlooking the parking lot. Jimmy’s room was the closest to them.
Ten minutes later, the door opened, and the emergency room physician exited. She removed her face mask and gloves before wiping the sweat off her brow. The hospital’s HVAC system had been adjusted to run for just a few minutes every four hours to conserve fuel in their generators.
Sonny immediately charged toward her. “How’s my son?”
The doctor took a deep breath and raised her eyebrows to open her eyes wider. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, or at least since the hurricane swept over the Keys.
“I’m Dr. Golic. And you are?”
“Sonny Free. That’s our son, Jimmy. My wife should be here soon.”
“Well, Mr. Free, your son is either part fish or has the nine lives of a cat. He’s not conscious, but from my examination, I can tell you he’s been through a lot.”
Peter offered an explanation. “We got caught on the water as the storm hit. He’s been missing ever since.”
Dr. Golic shook her head in disbelief. “Wow. That explains it. To say this young man is waterlogged is an understatement.”