All Units. Multiple explosions. 14 Alder Place. Two subscribers on-site.
Max dropped his coffee on the curb and jumped into the ambulance. The Renton address was only four blocks away. The paramedic had heard the explosions a few minutes before and had been expecting the call, but the coffee was too hot to gulp down. Gus was already prepping the trauma unit as the driver hit the siren and gunned the engine.
“This is CRT-42, en-route to 14 Alder Place, ETA two minutes.”
Roger, CRT-42. You are on-scene first. HTR-12 in seven. CRT-77 in thirteen.
Max checked the biometric feeds from the subscriber monitors. One was alive on ground level, and the other was on top of a low building with red lights across the board. Not good.
“Haul out the climbing gear, Gus. We might have to work to get to that second guy.”
His partner nodded, and broke open the rescue pack while Max double checked the read-outs. The ambulance slewed to a stop and the driver’s voice come through the commlink.
“Heavy dust from the blast, guys. Visibility is poor, but I don’t see anything moving around out there. Good luck.”
Max jumped from the vehicle and moved cautiously toward the site. The place was a trailer park, and the rubble was what remained of one of the temporarily permanent dwellings. The front half facing the central court had been blow off. One of the subscribers was in the pile of rubble, the other somewhere on what was left of the roof.
Gus ran toward the wreckage with the rescue pack but dumped the climbing gear when he found plenty of rubble to climb. Max headed to the signal on the ground. Finding anyone in this mess was going to take some physical labor.
Working his way across the treacherous footing, the paramedic got as close to the transponder as he could before digging. Seconds later, Gus’ curse told him all he needed to know about the client on the roof.
“Shit. Found the transponder he had embedded in his arm. Don’t know where the rest of him went…”
“Ok”, replied Max. “Get down here and help me dig for the other guy.”
Two minutes of heaving bits of plastwood and fibreboard revealed the survivor. He was buried under two steel plates, probably the firewall that separated this trailer from the neighbor’s. The steel was scored by the blast, but the guy underneath looked pretty good. A body survey confirmed Max’s initial impression. Two broken legs, dislocated shoulder, evidence of a head impact, but minimal internal trauma. It looked as if he’d fallen through the roof and been shielded from the blast by the firewall. Weird.
While Gus started getting the guy ready for transport, the veteran paramedic called dispatch with an update.
“This is CRT-42. We have one survivor, serious physical trauma. Second subscriber is scattered around the site in pieces.”
Acknowledged. CRT-77 and HTR-12 redirected. Renton-9 is ready to accept. Patching you through.
“Renton-9, this is CRT-42. We are en-route with an adult Japanese male, multiple traumas…”