Page 11 of What it Takes
Sam shrugged. “A lot of small towns out on back roads don’t. It takes so long for an ambulance to get here and then get back to the hospital that people are used to throwing people in their cars or trucks and driving like hell. I know it’s wrong and it’s dangerous, but itisfaster. And those people, who’ve been handling emergencies a certain way for generations, are the ones who vote on the town budget.”
“So they’ll approve an ATV with lights and sirens for me and a UTV with a rescue sled for the fire department to take out into the woods, but not an ambulance for their families.”
“Honestly, most of the money for you and the incredibly long list of crap you need to do your job came from Max researching and writing the hell out of grant requests.”
Ben had met Max Crawford a few times and he seemed like a decent guy. He was a little awkward with strangers, but he liked to talk sports, so they didn’t have any trouble making conversation. He worked out of his basement and there were some rumors he was a serial killer, but Ben thought the rumors that he painted brass locomotives and stuff for model railroaders were more credible. Most importantly, Max didn’t ride off-road at all, but he liked doing his part for his friends and the town, so he handled all the paperwork and that made him everybody’s best friend.
“That UTV they got you guys is going to come in handy,” Ben said.
“Yeah. I don’t know how Max scoredthatdonation from the manufacturer, but we owe him big-time.”
For years, the standard way to extract a victim from the trails had been a four-wheeler towing a rescue sled on wheels. After placing the victim on a backboard, he or she had to be secured in the sled and then one of the first responders had to perch on the side of it and hope they didn’t hit any big bumps. The new UTV was a four-seater with a utility back, but it had been modified so the right half of the backseat and dump body were replaced with a sled. It was still a bumpy, painful ride out for the injured, but it was safer for themandthe first responders, especially the one who could sit next to the victim in the backseat instead of trying not to fall off the side of the sled.
Max had scored Ben a utility ATV with a light, sirens and cargo boxes that stored the most vital of emergency supplies. Because he was an experienced rider and didn’t have to wait for other volunteers to arrive, he could go like hell through the woods and offer critical care until the other guys showed up.
“You miss the city much?” Sam asked.
Ben considered the question for a moment, then shook his head. “Not really. Other than the fact Whitford’s seriously lacking in sports bars, it was a good change for me. A little weird not having set shifts and just...being on call 24/7, but it’s good.”
“If you need time off, just give me the heads-up and between us and the warden service, we can cover things. And you’re pretty safe making plans for Tuesdays and Wednesdays, as a rule.”
“Yeah, I figure Friday afternoons and Saturdays will be my busiest times. Except for holiday weekends, most people are just packing up and heading home on Sundays.”
No sooner had he said the words than the alarm sounded and their cell phones rang at almost the same time. Leaving Sam to communicate with dispatch and go from there, Ben answered the call from Josh as he ran to his SUV. It wasn’t marked, but it had lights and sirens and was fully outfitted for almost any emergency.
“Here at the lodge,” Josh said as soon as he answered. “The cabins, actually. Guy was loading his wheeler and rolled it over backward on himself.”
“Don’t move him.” He turned on the siren and hit the gas.
“Laney’s got his head braced so he can’t move. He lost consciousness for at least a minute. He’s somewhat coherent, but having trouble breathing.”
Ben listened to the voices on his radio as he gave instructions to Josh that amounted to keeping him immobilized and as long as he was breathing, not to touch anything.
“They’ve dispatched an ambulance, but I’m almost there. Sit tight.”
God only knew how long the private ambulance service from a few towns away would take to get there, Ben fumed as he drove. At least twenty minutes and, unless the victim’s injuries were severe enough to merit a helicopter, the hospital was an hour away. And if he’d suffered head or spinal trauma, there was a good chance the ER docs would only stabilize him before transporting him to Maine Med for treatment.
He turned up the drive to the Northern Star Lodge and drove past the house and out back to the campground. After killing the siren, he pulled up near the people gathered—he could see Josh, Andy and Rosie with an upset woman, with two people on the ground—and shut off his engine. Then he hit the button to open the lift gate so it was open by the time he got to the back of the SUV. After grabbing his bag and a cervical collar, he walked to the man lying in the dirt.
Laney was kneeling above the victim’s head, her fingers laced under his neck and his head gripped between her knees. She looked up as Ben crouched beside her and they made eye contact. She was calm and ready to follow any instructions he gave her, so he got to work.
He’d wait for the ambulance crew before attempting the backboard, but he needed to stabilize the head and neck.
Slowly and carefully, he slipped the C-collar around the victim’s neck. Laney pulled her hands out of the way, but kept her knees on either side of his head until Ben let her know she could get up.
After checking his pulse, Ben looked down into the man’s face. “What’s your name?”
“His name’s Corey,” the woman said, and Ben had to stifle a sigh. That wasn’t really helpful.
“Corey, can you tell me how old you are?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Good, and do you know where you are?”
“Maine.”
The Connecticut plates on the truck let Ben know Corey had a basic awareness of where he was, though he would have liked more specifics. “Tell me what’s going on. How’s your breathing?”
