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Jackson, fighting to breathe and barely able to speak, weakly reached his arm to pull her close. “I love you.”
She whispered back, “I love you too.” She replaced the oxygen mask, and, staying by his side, she slipped her hand in his.
The ambulance lurched, siren screaming as it headed to the hospital.
Twenty-Two
As the ambulance raced through the streets toward the hospital, Olivia watched while Jackson's condition deteriorated rapidly. Nate Thompson, his colleague and paramedic, worked with frantic intensity, swiftly starting an IV line to administer crucial medication. But despite his efforts, Jackson's breathing became increasingly labored, his distress visible.
“Detective,” Nate said, “he’s losing his airway. I’m going to intubate him. If you’ve got something to say, I’d say it.”
In the cramped confines of the ambulance, tension gripped the air like a vise as Nate worked feverishly to stabilize Jackson's deteriorating condition. Each labored breath Jackson took underscored the urgency of the situation. His agitation increased as panic flickered in his eyes.
Olivia hovered by Jackson's side, her heart pounding with fear. She reached out, her touch gentle yet urgent as she tried to soothe his rising panic. “I'm here, Jackson. Just focus on your breaths, okay? We'll get through this together.”
Images flashed before her eyes—Jackson's brave smile as he left for his shift, the warmth of his touch as he kissed her goodbye. Now, those memories felt fragile as she feared losing him. But amidst the uncertainty, one thing remained clear—she would fight with every fiber of her being to ensure Jackson's survival. With tears glistening in her eyes, she squeezed his hand, silently vowing to never let go.
Nate leaned over him. “Jackson, I need to intubate you before your airway swells too much. You’re going to feel sleepy.” He swiftly administered medication to sedate Jackson, his actions decisive. He gently inserted a tube into his patient’s swollen airway, providing the vital assistance needed to help him breathe.
The ambulance sped toward the emergency room, sirens from the police escort blaring in the background. Nate and his partner continued to fight for Jackson.
As he was rushed into the trauma room, the atmosphere at the hospital was already tense. They’d been receiving patients for the last couple of hours from the fire scene. Sophie swiftly took over his care, her expression mirroring Olivia's concern. Jackson's condition was dire, and every second counted.
Sophie and the ER team worked to assess Jackson's vital signs and coordinate their efforts to stabilize him. The nurses stripped him of his firefighting gear.
Sophie roared, “I need a stat pan-CT scan.” His upper chest and shoulders appeared dark red. “Someone give me some history.”
Olivia stood by, her heart pounding. “They said steel shelves collapsed on him,” she began, her words laden with anguish. “He got caught in the burning warehouse without his air pack. The place was an inferno.”
Her hands shook as she painted a vivid picture. She described the intensity of the flames, the suffocating smoke that filled the air, and the desperate struggle to rescue Jackson from the wreckage.
“I need that bloodwork back,” Sophie demanded.
Time seemed to blur as medical interventions were administered and Sophie made decisions in split seconds. Olivia's thoughts were consumed by the man she loved fighting for his life. Her mind raced with memories of moments shared, their laughter, their dreams, and the love they held for each other and only expressed in words just a few minutes ago in the ambulance.
She clung to hope, praying silently for Jackson's strength to pull him through this crisis. Every beep of the monitors, every word exchanged among the medical staff felt so scary.
Turk, free of his turnout gear, joined Olivia in the trauma room out of the way of the ER treatment team. His presence was a comforting reminder of the support among their firefighting community. She remembered how it was after her own father died.
Her eyes went wide. Martha Reynolds could lose her only son. She already experienced the tragedy of losing her husband to a fire and now stood to lose Jackson as well.
Olivia felt horribly guilty for not thinking of Martha first. “Is someone getting his mom?” she cried.
Turk assured her Luke was sent to pick up Jackson’s mother. Liv chewed her cheek and said a quiet prayer that she would make it in time.
With his own grim expression, Turk updated Olivia on the status of the other patients being treated in the ER, including Edwin, the Engine 3 firefighter, and the badly burned woman. “He carried both of them out of that hell.”
As Olivia listened, her mind grew intent on Turk’s words. She’d gone to fire school. She studied how fires worked, but for the first time, she understood the precarious situation firefighters put themselves in. Jackson had to be selfless—his every action could mean the difference between life and death.
Sophie's urgent cry pierced through Olivia's thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment. The words, “We're losing him. Start CPR,” echoed in the room.
Turk wrapped his arm around her and pulled her deeper into the room’s corner. Neither could say a word as Sophie called out the drug orders and used the defibrillator, trying to get his heart beating again.
After ten eternally long minutes, Sophie called out, “Sinus Tachycardia. We have a pulse.”
Olivia’s knees almost gave out. He was still alive.
Sophie turned to her and Turk. “We need to scan him and get him into the ICU. Why don’t you get some coffee?”
