Novel Treatments / Lost & Found (formerly titled Rescue Me)

She bowed her head and lit her cigarette with a match, the acrid smell of sulfer stinging her nose. She watched the match burn down to her fingertips before shaking it out and taking a deep drag of the filtered Marlboro. It burned her throat, bitter and harsh. She hadn’t had a cigarette in 3 months but today she needed one, as she sat on the curb outside Fire House 121, trying to ignore the tremble in her hands and the tears welling up behind her eyes. She refused to cry. McCain women do not cry. They rage, they bitch, they nag and they brawl, but they most certainly do not cry. She held the cigarette between thumb and forefinger and looked at it before taking another drag. A piece of dark hair fell into her face and she loosened the bun it was in. Her fingers combed through the dark waves. Her hair was her only vanity and it fell in a curtain to her waist. She sighed and wound it back into a bun, very few people in the fire department had seen her hair down adn she wanted to keep it that way.
“You shouldn’t smoke, you know. It’s bad for you.” She heard the voice but Peyton McCain didn’t turn. She took a last drag and flicked her cigarette into the gutter. Jason moved to sit beside her. She didn’t look at him as she said,
“You shouldn’t tell me what to do. It’s bad for you.”
Jason grinned that slow crooked smile of his and shook his head.
“Can I bum one?” he held out a hand. Peyton cocked an eyebrow at him but said nothing as she tossed him her fairly crumpled pack of Marlboro 27’s. Jason lit one and handed them back. Jason hadn’t quit when she did and knew that if she was smoking, something was wrong. Peyton tucked the pack into the cargo pocket of her pants. Jason looked out on the empty field next to them, smoking silently.
“So you wanna talk about it?” he eventually asked, not looking at her.
“No.” She didn’t look at him either, hoping he’d get the hint and not push.
“Should.” Damnit. He was going to be persistent.
“So?”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
Jason flicked his cigarette away and finally looked at her.
“Peyton…..”
“Don’t start Jason.” He saw the flare in her deep blue, almost gray eyes and shrugged. He knew better than to start a fight with Peyton or her sisters. The youngest one, Jenni, had give him a black eye just last month over something he couldn’t even remember now.
“Ok, ok, ok.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders companionably and kissed the top of her head. As he walked back inside the fire station, a shrill ring sounded, followed by the clanking of the station door as it rolled up.
“Rescue 121, Engine 120.” Peyton had jumped up at the alarm and grabbed her gear as the door rolled up. She swung aboard the squad. Jason grabbed the radio mike and relayed their departure. As he pulled out in front on the engine, Peyton leaned over and flicked the switch for the light bar. He started the siren. ‘Just another day in paradise.’ She thought as the siren wailed and the lights pulsed off passing cars. Peyton turned her attention to her paperwork, the stark beauty of the world bathed in red and blue too much to dwell on now. She ran the call without thinking too much about it, mechanically going through the motions off emergency medicine. She caught Jason’s frown and the other firefighters worried looks but pretended to be engrossed in her paperwork. She didn’t want to answer their questions. They ran two more calls in 34’s district before finally getting back to station. Peyton barely had enough time to say hello to the oncoming crew before the bell rang again.
She was getting her stuff from her locker when Jason casually strolled up to his own, next to hers.
“So, you going home?” He asked as he packed his gear away.
“Where else would I go, Jason?” she answered, irritated.
“Don’t know. Wanna go eat?”
She shook her head at him. “Nah, I’m not feeling real hungry today.”
Jason nodded and grabbed his bag.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He called out just before dissapearing through the door.
Peyton heaved a sigh and took her running shoes out of her locker. She hated to run but she had to stay in good physical condition. There was a lot of pressure being a female in the world’s most predominantly male job. Today she knew she’d run for miles. She had a lot of anger to burn.

Outside, Jason started his car but didn’t put it in drive. He was thinking about Peyton. He loved her, he knew this for sure, as much as one person could love another. He loved her since that crazy day, more than five years ago, when he’d introduced himself and she had told him to fuck off. He smiled at the memory. They had both worked for an ambulance company and were assigned to work with each other. They couldn’t remember now why she had taken such an instant dislike of him, but all that had changed after a while. Now she was his best friend, his partner, his better half. And he was worried about her. Peyton, clad in shorts, t-shirt and running shoes came out of the firehouse door and took off down the street. Jason knew Peyton well and though she was spontaneous and a complete whirlwind of activity, she had one constant in her life. She ran. Usually in the morning. It never mattered where she was or who she was with, she ran. Jason threw the car into drive and pulled out of the driveway. It didn’t take him long to find Peyton pounding pavement on Hill Rd. He parked and got out. Seeing him, Peyton stopped and stood, hands on hips, and to Jason’s utter surprise, she was crying. She shook her head at him and took off in the other direction. Perplexed, Jason frowned. In all the years he had known her, Jason had never see her cry. Rage, yes. Blinding fury, absolute frustration, intense joy, Jason had seen them all float across her beautiful face. But never tears. It worried the hell out of him.

When Peyton ran, she tried not to think about her job. It never worked. No matter how hard she tried the doubts, the fears, the insecurities and the names always found their way to the surface. It was easier to forget the bad calls when you didn’t know their name. Once you knew their name, they become a person, a person worth grieving over. She ran back up the drive to the firehouse. Luckily, everyone was inside and she went unnoticed as she got in her 1985 Dodge pick-up truck and drove home. She got there without knowing how. Peyton could hear her cat at the door, meowing as if his life were over. She smiled, a little, at the sound and opened the door. As she crawled into bed, her stomach growled. ‘It’s okay,’ she thought, ‘I’ll eat later.’

The next morning, after her run, Peyton showered, changed, grabbed her duffle and locked her front door. She threw her duffle into the back of her truck and drove to work. She had had a CD player installed and she popped a CD into it. She didn’t know or care what it was, but she turned it up loud and it drowned out her thoughts.

The fire engine was parked out front, and Jason and E.J., clad in department issue shorts, were washing it down. Every morning, the guys painstakingly washed and polished both the fire engine and the smaller fire squad, which contained all the paramedic equipment. Usually Jason and Peyton did the squad but because Jason was training, the trainee got to wash both. It was firehouse initiation. Peyton smiled. Chadwick Montgomery was a paramedic trainee who had earned the nickname, “E.J” for his fondness for inserting intravenous, or I.V. lines, into the External Jugular, the big vein in the neck. E.J. also had the whitest legs Peyton had ever seen.
“Wow, E.J. Am I gonna have to bring in some self-tanning lotion for those babies” She ribbed him as she pulled her duffle out of the bed of her truck.
“Only if you bring the pretty smelling stuff back.” He retorted. The men in the firehouse referred to Peyton’s body wash as ‘the pretty smelling stuff’ and usually used it all before Peyton had a chance to shower.
“I’m not buying that expensive stuff to waste on you guys. You can buy your own pretty smelling stuff.” She called back.
“Are you saying we don’t smell good already?” E.J. was mock outraged. Living with six or seven firefighters was like living with six or seven thirteen year old boys. Strange sounds and strange smells were the rule, especially after a night of Mexican food. Peyton smiled at E.J. had went inside to put her duffle in the dormroom. She wore the standard Navy blue shirt and pants of the Roxford Fire Department with her never shined, completely comfortable duty boots. She had just finished stuffing her feet into her boots when the tones went off.
“Rescue 121. Engine 120. Unknown Medical Aid. 14930 South Adams Street. Cross of 149th.” Peyton grabbed a hair band and wound her hair into its customary bun as she walked to the squad. Jason was putting his boots on and E.J. was climbing into the back seat. The fire house doors rolled up and Peyton hit her lights. At the end of the driveway she hit the siren. The morning traffic was light. Jason blared the horn at a car refusing to move and cursed. Jason never understood the tendency of people to pull into the path of a fire truck instead of out of the way. Jason cursed again. Peyton maneuvers around stopped cars. They made good time to the call. Turning onto Adams, Peyton asks,
“What’s the address again, Jason?�? as she radios dispatch.
“14930. Slow down, I see 14440, keep going it’s further down, cross 149th.�? Jason leans forward in his seat and scans his side of the street. Peyton scans addresses on her side. They are responding to a poorer neighborhood of Roxford and many of the houses don’t have house numbers.
“There. There.�? E.J. calls from the backseat. Peyton sees a dark-haired woman in a blue bathrobe waving frantically at them. Peyton parks and cuts the siren. She grabs the clipboard and jumps out while Jason and E.J. grab the equipment from the compartments in the back.
“Ma’am. What’s going on today?�? As Peyton approaches she can tell the woman is elderly, probably diabetic and extremely anxious.
“It’s Harold. He wouldn’t wake up. I called him and called him.�? the woman grabs Peyton’s arm and pleads,
“Please, please help him.�?
“We will try our best Ma’am.�? Peyton steers the woman into the house and assesses the scene. Jason is shaking the patient‘s shoulder but he’s not responding. Jason hooks up the heart monitor and checks for pulses while E.J. hunts down the man’s medicine bottles.
“Okay. We have Aspirin, Insulin, heart meds, hypertension meds, you name it, this guy takes it.�? E.J. walks into the room followed closely by the boys from the Engine. Jason calls out,
“No pulses. Start CPR.�? Peyton immediately goes into auto-pilot. Directing the startled wife towards Captain Stewart, Peyton, E.J. and Jason carry the patient and set him on the floor. Jason Begins compressions, E.J. strips his I.V. lines and Peyton grabs the airway box. She positions a tube into the patient throat and connects a bag called a BVM to it. This way she can breathe for him while Jason is doing chest compressions. E.J. nails his I.V. and starts pushing drugs. He pushes several drugs designed to kick start the heart.
“C’mon. c’mon.�? He mumbles.
“Hold CPR.�? Jason stops compressions. Everyone is looking anxiously at the heart monitor. A flat line appears on the screen.
“Resume CPR.�? He calls as he starts thumping on the guy‘s chest. The ambulance crew arrives and the patient is transferred onto the gurney. Peyton, being smaller, climbs onto the side of the gurney to do rolling CPR as they head toward the ambulance. They fly by the shocked wife and the Captain, who is trying to get her to put her shoes on. E.J. calls a report into the hospital and the patient is loaded into the rig. Jason and E.J. climb into back and shut the doors. Peyton gets into the squad and buckles her seatbelt. She hits her siren and leads the way to the hospital. In the Emergency Room, the man is pronounced dead. Peyton sighs. They haven’t had a save in months and it seems as if their bad streak will never be broken. Peyton attaches electrodes to the heart monitor and coils the lines. She tosses Jason the keys and puts the monitor back into it’s cabinet on the squad. As Jason drives back to the station, Peyton closes her eyes.
“Anyone else hungry?�? E.J. asks from behind her. Peyton looks at her watch. Eight a.m. It’s going to be a long day.