- Jun 27, 2003
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Darrin's Shift Continued from Part One
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The scene looked like a war zone. A car carrier had jackknifed and then
tipped, spilling the top row of cars. Unsuspecting motorists suddenly found shiny, new, driverless cars in their paths. They zig zagged across the road to avoid hitting the truck or the cars, and hit other cars. One small white car was crushed beneath the car carrier itself, only the back rear corner was visible. The red of the taillight had broken out, but somehow the blinker kept blinking. A tiny white beacon. A blue car still on the carrier was poised above the white car, held only by a chain. They had to secure that blue car and the tipped carrier before they cold safely work on the occupants of the white car.
It was 5AM, Dawn. The sun was rising. The pink glow of the early dawn light made the scene even more eerie. Darrin had just 3 more hours in his shift and he would be home with Mary and the boys. But he couldn't think about that now.
The firefighters and rescue personnel started running with equipment to the scene, sorting out the driverless cars from those with victims. Darrin and Paul each had an end of a gurney, wheeling it over the uneven pavement. They had to maneuver around a body lying on the edge of the road... a nubby gray blanket had been thrown over the victim, only his feet stuck out from underneath. Black shoes... Darrin noticed the size of the shape under the blanket ... small ... it had to be a child. Yellow paint...He hated when there were young children involved. Black shoes ... yellow paint ... was going through Darrin's mind. Darrin froze. He turned slowly around and focused on the shoes. Black Nike's, with a spot of bright yellow paint on the right toe. He dropped his end of the gurney and walked over to the blanket covered body. Paul watched, perplexed. "Darrin? What gives?" Darrin kneeled down and hesitated for a moment, then threw back the blanket. Joey... Joey
... Joey... Paul wracked his brain, going through every training drill he had ever had. Nothing prepared him for this. He didn't know what to do. He stood helplessly while Darrin gently slid his hand under the boy's head, lifting him up to cradle him to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth, whispering "Joey... Daddy's here... Daddy's here...Joey... Joey..."
Paul looked around, wondering who he should get, what he should do. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and Darrin was running towards the road, his eyes locked on the crushed white car, the flashing blinker. "Mary!! Mary.... Tony..." Paul tackled him, tried to force him back, he was dragging Paul with him now. "NO! Let us get her, stay with Joey, don't go there Darrin. Please... We'll get them ... Don't go there..." Darrin's eyes were wide and wild. Paul feared what Darrin might see if he got up to the car. "Please.. stop... Darrin..." Darrin shook Paul off, ran to the car, ducked under the cable they were securing to the carrier. Someone yelled "Get the Hell back ... what is he doing?" Darrin tried to pull the twisted metal free with his hands, cutting his fingers, pounding his fist on the window, trying to open the door... Screaming "Mary... Tony... Mary..."
It was dawning on Darrin's coworkers what was happening. It was all they could do to keep from rushing to the car before it was secured. They felt helpless. Paul and another firefighter pulled Darrin away from the car. Paul told one of the cops, "Take him back over there..." pointing towards the boy lying with the blanket thrown off of him. The cop looked horrified. "What the Hell...?" Paul answered over his shoulder as he ran to the white car "It's his son." The cop dropped his head down, "Oh sweet Jesus." He led Darrin back to where Joey lay, and knelt beside him, talking slow and calm. Darrin sat by Joey while he stared at the flashing blinker of the white car, his eyes a mixture of pleading and pain.
When he had learned that the woman with the baby hadn't made it, he felt like a failure as a rescue worker. Now he felt like a failure as a father and husband: He had failed to keep his family safe ... failed to raise his son to adulthood ... failed to be there when they needed him most. He looked down at the still form of his son, Joey ... Joey ... Joey...
He remembered finding Joey in the workroom just a few short days ago, deep in concentration, painting a little red matchbox firetruck with yellow paint. The station Darrin worked at had yellow trucks. He spilled the paint and it spattered down the work bench and on to his brand new shoes. Darrin was angry, until he saw the crocodile tears welling up in Joey's eyes. Instead of reprimanding him, he picked up the paint and said "I think there's still enough to finish the truck." The look in Joey's eyes was such that Darrin hugged him. They worked on the truck together, smiling. It was a happy memory. For some reason, that suddenly seemed so important now. He took a very small measure of comfort knowing he had not gotten angry about the spilled paint, and made that into a happy time for Joey. Now that he knew Joey had no more happy times left.
He watched now as they worked on the car, thinking he should be there, he should be the one helping Mary and Tony. He thought of Mary's voice on the phone ... was that just the morning before? Still this same shift? He thought of Tony's impish grin, his quiet little voice. He willed them to live, he pleaded with God, Please don't take them all... You have my Joey...don't take them all.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
At the hospital, he watched them whisk Tony down the hall, through the double doors at the end. He had an odd feeling of having been here before, in this spot, watching this scene. Then he remembered the little boy from the campfire. But this was his Tony. He looked so small, so still, so broken. I'll take the long road to recovery... I'll take him disfigured ... I'll take him crippled... I'll take him anyway at all, just let me keep him ... please ... God, let me keep my son.
He waited at the end of the hall, staring at the floor, pacing up and down. He was vaguely aware that he was surrounded by his fellow firefighters. He tried to acknowledge their words of comfort, but he couldn't. The multi-MVA brought a lot of activity to the hospital, but Darrin didn't notice.
He overheard talk about Michael and Larry. Michael had severe head trauma... Larry didn't make it. He wanted to feel something, but he was numb.
The doctor came walking out of the room at the end of the hall. Too soon ... he was out too soon. Judy was with him. They walked towards Darrin with solemn faces. Darrin cried out "NO! Don't tell me... I don't want to know." They had to tell him that Tony was gone. They gently asked about organ donation, for both boys. Darrin didn't know what to say, "I have to talk to my wife ... my wife... Oh God. Yes, okay, take them... Can I see my son? I want to see Tony." He walked into the darkened room. All the tubes had been disconnected, all the machines were silent. Tony lay with the sheet up to his neck. Darrin put his hand beneath his head, cringing when he felt the bones shift. He cradled him against his chest, "Tony...Tony... Daddy's here... Daddy's here..."
Darrin sat beside his wife. He told her everything he wanted to say, what she meant to him, how he loved her, how she made him whole. He was sure she could hear him. He told her to hold on, he needed her. He wasn't sure he should tell her that the boys were gone. He just said that they loved her very much. He squeezed her hand, imagining that she was squeezing back. He begged her not to leave him. But when she flat-lined ... he told her that he understood. She was a mother, she needed to be with her children. He asked her to give them a kiss for him. He kissed her cheek. It was 8AM when the light went out of his life. The end of Darrin's shift.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
When he walked out of the room, he saw a sea of concerned faces, dark blue shirts, yellow turnouts. He wanted them to go away, leave him alone. They reached out to him. He pushed them away. "I need to be alone, just let me be alone." At first they started to comply, but Paul said "No." He stood in front of Darrin, and said "You aren't alone, we're your family. You'll never be alone." Darrin collapsed forward, and Paul caught him. He wrapped his arms around him and held him. They surrounded him, touched him, just let him know they were there. They let him know he would never be alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
The Lawsuit
The woman who was involved in the accident with the rescue van decided to sue Michael and the Department, saying he failed to use proper safety precautions. She claimed he caused the accident, causing her car to be totaled, injuries to her and her son, and severe mental trauma to her son, who still had night mares. Nightmares... Michael thought, I know all about nightmares. Although he was certain he was not the cause of the accident, he didn't care what might happen to him. He just didn't want the reputation of the department to be damaged. He didn't blame himself for the injuries to the woman and boy, he knew he did all he could to protect them. But ... he blamed himself for Larry's death.
He gave a brief, unemotional, factual account of everything that he could remember of the accident and leading up to it. He told how he tried to avoid a direct hit on the back passenger door where the boy was sitting. It was only when he said that he woke up in the upside-down van with Larry lying silently behind him that his voice began to falter.
An accident reconstruction expert had the streets all mapped out in color on a large display on an easel, with every tree and car and pedestrian noted exactly where they had been, represented with little cardboard cutouts with magnets on the back. He took the accident step-by-step through it's course with his little magnetic car and rescue vehicle. Michael watched intently, waiting to see at what exact point had he made the mistake that cost Larry his life. He was holding his own trial in his head.
He watched and listened, and decided he saw it clearly ... when he turned to the left to avoid a direct T-bone into the child. The van hit the car behind the back door, at an angle, the front wheels left the ground, the van angled through the air for a moment, and slammed down on the passenger side -- on Larry's side. If he had hit the car straight on, he and Larry would have probably both survived. The boy would have been instantly killed, and probably the mother too. But Larry, being higher above the car and in the bigger vehicle, would have lived. He had only meant to save the child, not trade one life for another. He didn't think he would ever forgive himself.
He watched the reconstruction specialist take the magnetic van and turn it upside down in the middle of the road "... coming to rest here, on it's roof..." he was saying. Michael remembered the light bar spinning down the road, and feeling the weight that fell on him. He knew now that the weight was Larry's body. I'm sorry Larry... I'm so sorry.
The case was thrown out. There was no evidence to support any wrong doing on the part of the rescue crew. It was the car that failed to yield. Michael felt nothing, good or bad, as they dismissed the case. He walked out of the room with his eyes straight ahead, not talking to anyone, not answering any questions. But there was one set of eyes he couldn't get past: Nancy, Larry's widow. She stopped him as he was heading out of the courtroom. He just looked at her silently, not knowing what to say. His eyes filling with tears. Nancy told him that she knew Larry would have made the same decisions, the same moves, if he had been driving. She told him not to blame himself. She told him she didn't want to be bitter and blame anyone, and it took effort for her not to blame the woman in the car, but she most certainly didn't blame him. She looked into his tear filled eyes and said, "You do don't you? Blame yourself?" He looked at the floor, and nodded. Nancy took him in her arms and held his head on her shoulder. "He loved you Michael, you were his friend. He doesn't blame you, if he did, I would know. He doesn't blame you, I promise."
The captain recommended Michael for PTSD counseling. He told him the rescue van wasn't totaled, and neither was he. He wanted them both back in service as soon as he could. Michael looked at him, dumfounded. "You want me to drive again?" The captain put his hand on his shoulder, saying "Rescue 12 is your baby, Michael. Of course I want you driving it."
He drives now with a new partner. The lapel pins from Larry's uniform are pinned to the visor. And Larry rides with them on every call.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
Darrin is a highly respected and decorated firefighter to this day. He has said that it's all that keeps him going. Beside his bunk at the station is a little yellow, handpainted matchbox firetruck.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
Larry's daughter asks that you rid yourself of distractions while driving, be aware of your surroundings, and always yield to lights and sirens.
May your angels ride with you on every call,
Peace Out,
Kal
(c) 1998 Copyrighted to Kalvere. Please do not reproduce or distribute in any form without author's permission. Kalvere is from Minnesota, and welcomes any comments at the following email address: Kal The Rebel @ aol.com
The Author has given me permission to post this. Please do not forward it in email.
Submitted by Richard
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The scene looked like a war zone. A car carrier had jackknifed and then
tipped, spilling the top row of cars. Unsuspecting motorists suddenly found shiny, new, driverless cars in their paths. They zig zagged across the road to avoid hitting the truck or the cars, and hit other cars. One small white car was crushed beneath the car carrier itself, only the back rear corner was visible. The red of the taillight had broken out, but somehow the blinker kept blinking. A tiny white beacon. A blue car still on the carrier was poised above the white car, held only by a chain. They had to secure that blue car and the tipped carrier before they cold safely work on the occupants of the white car.
It was 5AM, Dawn. The sun was rising. The pink glow of the early dawn light made the scene even more eerie. Darrin had just 3 more hours in his shift and he would be home with Mary and the boys. But he couldn't think about that now.
The firefighters and rescue personnel started running with equipment to the scene, sorting out the driverless cars from those with victims. Darrin and Paul each had an end of a gurney, wheeling it over the uneven pavement. They had to maneuver around a body lying on the edge of the road... a nubby gray blanket had been thrown over the victim, only his feet stuck out from underneath. Black shoes... Darrin noticed the size of the shape under the blanket ... small ... it had to be a child. Yellow paint...He hated when there were young children involved. Black shoes ... yellow paint ... was going through Darrin's mind. Darrin froze. He turned slowly around and focused on the shoes. Black Nike's, with a spot of bright yellow paint on the right toe. He dropped his end of the gurney and walked over to the blanket covered body. Paul watched, perplexed. "Darrin? What gives?" Darrin kneeled down and hesitated for a moment, then threw back the blanket. Joey... Joey
... Joey... Paul wracked his brain, going through every training drill he had ever had. Nothing prepared him for this. He didn't know what to do. He stood helplessly while Darrin gently slid his hand under the boy's head, lifting him up to cradle him to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth, whispering "Joey... Daddy's here... Daddy's here...Joey... Joey..."
Paul looked around, wondering who he should get, what he should do. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and Darrin was running towards the road, his eyes locked on the crushed white car, the flashing blinker. "Mary!! Mary.... Tony..." Paul tackled him, tried to force him back, he was dragging Paul with him now. "NO! Let us get her, stay with Joey, don't go there Darrin. Please... We'll get them ... Don't go there..." Darrin's eyes were wide and wild. Paul feared what Darrin might see if he got up to the car. "Please.. stop... Darrin..." Darrin shook Paul off, ran to the car, ducked under the cable they were securing to the carrier. Someone yelled "Get the Hell back ... what is he doing?" Darrin tried to pull the twisted metal free with his hands, cutting his fingers, pounding his fist on the window, trying to open the door... Screaming "Mary... Tony... Mary..."
It was dawning on Darrin's coworkers what was happening. It was all they could do to keep from rushing to the car before it was secured. They felt helpless. Paul and another firefighter pulled Darrin away from the car. Paul told one of the cops, "Take him back over there..." pointing towards the boy lying with the blanket thrown off of him. The cop looked horrified. "What the Hell...?" Paul answered over his shoulder as he ran to the white car "It's his son." The cop dropped his head down, "Oh sweet Jesus." He led Darrin back to where Joey lay, and knelt beside him, talking slow and calm. Darrin sat by Joey while he stared at the flashing blinker of the white car, his eyes a mixture of pleading and pain.
When he had learned that the woman with the baby hadn't made it, he felt like a failure as a rescue worker. Now he felt like a failure as a father and husband: He had failed to keep his family safe ... failed to raise his son to adulthood ... failed to be there when they needed him most. He looked down at the still form of his son, Joey ... Joey ... Joey...
He remembered finding Joey in the workroom just a few short days ago, deep in concentration, painting a little red matchbox firetruck with yellow paint. The station Darrin worked at had yellow trucks. He spilled the paint and it spattered down the work bench and on to his brand new shoes. Darrin was angry, until he saw the crocodile tears welling up in Joey's eyes. Instead of reprimanding him, he picked up the paint and said "I think there's still enough to finish the truck." The look in Joey's eyes was such that Darrin hugged him. They worked on the truck together, smiling. It was a happy memory. For some reason, that suddenly seemed so important now. He took a very small measure of comfort knowing he had not gotten angry about the spilled paint, and made that into a happy time for Joey. Now that he knew Joey had no more happy times left.
He watched now as they worked on the car, thinking he should be there, he should be the one helping Mary and Tony. He thought of Mary's voice on the phone ... was that just the morning before? Still this same shift? He thought of Tony's impish grin, his quiet little voice. He willed them to live, he pleaded with God, Please don't take them all... You have my Joey...don't take them all.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
At the hospital, he watched them whisk Tony down the hall, through the double doors at the end. He had an odd feeling of having been here before, in this spot, watching this scene. Then he remembered the little boy from the campfire. But this was his Tony. He looked so small, so still, so broken. I'll take the long road to recovery... I'll take him disfigured ... I'll take him crippled... I'll take him anyway at all, just let me keep him ... please ... God, let me keep my son.
He waited at the end of the hall, staring at the floor, pacing up and down. He was vaguely aware that he was surrounded by his fellow firefighters. He tried to acknowledge their words of comfort, but he couldn't. The multi-MVA brought a lot of activity to the hospital, but Darrin didn't notice.
He overheard talk about Michael and Larry. Michael had severe head trauma... Larry didn't make it. He wanted to feel something, but he was numb.
The doctor came walking out of the room at the end of the hall. Too soon ... he was out too soon. Judy was with him. They walked towards Darrin with solemn faces. Darrin cried out "NO! Don't tell me... I don't want to know." They had to tell him that Tony was gone. They gently asked about organ donation, for both boys. Darrin didn't know what to say, "I have to talk to my wife ... my wife... Oh God. Yes, okay, take them... Can I see my son? I want to see Tony." He walked into the darkened room. All the tubes had been disconnected, all the machines were silent. Tony lay with the sheet up to his neck. Darrin put his hand beneath his head, cringing when he felt the bones shift. He cradled him against his chest, "Tony...Tony... Daddy's here... Daddy's here..."
Darrin sat beside his wife. He told her everything he wanted to say, what she meant to him, how he loved her, how she made him whole. He was sure she could hear him. He told her to hold on, he needed her. He wasn't sure he should tell her that the boys were gone. He just said that they loved her very much. He squeezed her hand, imagining that she was squeezing back. He begged her not to leave him. But when she flat-lined ... he told her that he understood. She was a mother, she needed to be with her children. He asked her to give them a kiss for him. He kissed her cheek. It was 8AM when the light went out of his life. The end of Darrin's shift.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
When he walked out of the room, he saw a sea of concerned faces, dark blue shirts, yellow turnouts. He wanted them to go away, leave him alone. They reached out to him. He pushed them away. "I need to be alone, just let me be alone." At first they started to comply, but Paul said "No." He stood in front of Darrin, and said "You aren't alone, we're your family. You'll never be alone." Darrin collapsed forward, and Paul caught him. He wrapped his arms around him and held him. They surrounded him, touched him, just let him know they were there. They let him know he would never be alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
The Lawsuit
The woman who was involved in the accident with the rescue van decided to sue Michael and the Department, saying he failed to use proper safety precautions. She claimed he caused the accident, causing her car to be totaled, injuries to her and her son, and severe mental trauma to her son, who still had night mares. Nightmares... Michael thought, I know all about nightmares. Although he was certain he was not the cause of the accident, he didn't care what might happen to him. He just didn't want the reputation of the department to be damaged. He didn't blame himself for the injuries to the woman and boy, he knew he did all he could to protect them. But ... he blamed himself for Larry's death.
He gave a brief, unemotional, factual account of everything that he could remember of the accident and leading up to it. He told how he tried to avoid a direct hit on the back passenger door where the boy was sitting. It was only when he said that he woke up in the upside-down van with Larry lying silently behind him that his voice began to falter.
An accident reconstruction expert had the streets all mapped out in color on a large display on an easel, with every tree and car and pedestrian noted exactly where they had been, represented with little cardboard cutouts with magnets on the back. He took the accident step-by-step through it's course with his little magnetic car and rescue vehicle. Michael watched intently, waiting to see at what exact point had he made the mistake that cost Larry his life. He was holding his own trial in his head.
He watched and listened, and decided he saw it clearly ... when he turned to the left to avoid a direct T-bone into the child. The van hit the car behind the back door, at an angle, the front wheels left the ground, the van angled through the air for a moment, and slammed down on the passenger side -- on Larry's side. If he had hit the car straight on, he and Larry would have probably both survived. The boy would have been instantly killed, and probably the mother too. But Larry, being higher above the car and in the bigger vehicle, would have lived. He had only meant to save the child, not trade one life for another. He didn't think he would ever forgive himself.
He watched the reconstruction specialist take the magnetic van and turn it upside down in the middle of the road "... coming to rest here, on it's roof..." he was saying. Michael remembered the light bar spinning down the road, and feeling the weight that fell on him. He knew now that the weight was Larry's body. I'm sorry Larry... I'm so sorry.
The case was thrown out. There was no evidence to support any wrong doing on the part of the rescue crew. It was the car that failed to yield. Michael felt nothing, good or bad, as they dismissed the case. He walked out of the room with his eyes straight ahead, not talking to anyone, not answering any questions. But there was one set of eyes he couldn't get past: Nancy, Larry's widow. She stopped him as he was heading out of the courtroom. He just looked at her silently, not knowing what to say. His eyes filling with tears. Nancy told him that she knew Larry would have made the same decisions, the same moves, if he had been driving. She told him not to blame himself. She told him she didn't want to be bitter and blame anyone, and it took effort for her not to blame the woman in the car, but she most certainly didn't blame him. She looked into his tear filled eyes and said, "You do don't you? Blame yourself?" He looked at the floor, and nodded. Nancy took him in her arms and held his head on her shoulder. "He loved you Michael, you were his friend. He doesn't blame you, if he did, I would know. He doesn't blame you, I promise."
The captain recommended Michael for PTSD counseling. He told him the rescue van wasn't totaled, and neither was he. He wanted them both back in service as soon as he could. Michael looked at him, dumfounded. "You want me to drive again?" The captain put his hand on his shoulder, saying "Rescue 12 is your baby, Michael. Of course I want you driving it."
He drives now with a new partner. The lapel pins from Larry's uniform are pinned to the visor. And Larry rides with them on every call.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
Darrin is a highly respected and decorated firefighter to this day. He has said that it's all that keeps him going. Beside his bunk at the station is a little yellow, handpainted matchbox firetruck.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
Larry's daughter asks that you rid yourself of distractions while driving, be aware of your surroundings, and always yield to lights and sirens.
May your angels ride with you on every call,
Peace Out,
Kal
(c) 1998 Copyrighted to Kalvere. Please do not reproduce or distribute in any form without author's permission. Kalvere is from Minnesota, and welcomes any comments at the following email address: Kal The Rebel @ aol.com
The Author has given me permission to post this. Please do not forward it in email.
Submitted by Richard
