Only Time Ch. 02

This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

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Part 7 - Acts of Horror, Acts of Heroism

"And who can say why your heart cries
When your love dies?
Only time."
------Enya, 'Only Time'

9:05am, Wednesday, October 16th. As I sped down University Avenue past University Hospital with my blue lightbar blazing, I could see the plume of smoke obscuring the left side of the building. A Fire Department vehicle was already on the scene, and more were coming.

Within seconds of receiving a phone call from Carole's teacher that Carole had wanted me to be called because something was wrong, the first alert came to the Duty Desk of an explosion at the Hospital. I thought immediately of Laura, and I knew in my soul that I had to get to the Hospital immediately. I remember shouting orders to people as I ran down the hallway to the exit.

I took the drive to the far (south) side employees's parking lot, knowing I needed to stay out of the way of the Fire Department vehicles on the other side. After parking, I ran along the sidewalk in front of the hospital, not hindered by Police that were already there and setting up a perimeter.

As I got closer to the northwest wing, I could see that smoke was billowing out of the doors and windows that had been blown out by the explosion on the first and second floors. There was a huge hole in the end of the building, which is where the truck-bomb must've gone through, I thought to myself. I saw fire hoses going into the gap to the left side of the shell of what was left of the truck; firemen had gone inside and were putting out the fires.

"Commander!" I heard a voice call out behind me. I turned to see Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle running up, followed by twelve Patrol Officers. When Teresa got to me, she said "We're going to set up our tent right over there." I turned and looked; about thirty yards away and towards the middle of the grass lawn, Police Officers were already setting up the tent.

"We don't need a command tent yet." I said. "We need------" And then I stopped. A figure had just come out of the gaping hole. It was our Chaplain and Police Captain, Father Alberto Romano, wearing one of the BOW Enterprise 5-minute air masks. His uniform was covered with dust, but more importantly, he was carrying two infant babies in his arms.

Teresa and I ran up to him and he handed us the babies. Before we could stop him, he'd turned around and gone back inside, followed by more firefighters.

"Let's get these babies to the tent." I said. We carried them over there, and were met by nurses that had come from the front doors of the building.

"I'm going in there, too." I said to Teresa. "You take charge out here." I ran out and towards the damaged section. As I got to the façade, Father Romano was coming out again, with another baby, which appeared to be injured. He handed the baby to Corporal Hicks, but as he turned to go back in, Firefighters were ready this time, and they stopped him.

I went forward, but felt a hand clasp my shoulder. I turned to see Fire Marshal Roy Easley. "Hold on, Commander." he said. "You are not going in there. And I told them to keep Father Romano from going back in. We'll get everyone out."

I nodded. "Yeah, you're right." I said as I saw Teresa come up and lead Father Romano away from the building. He'd gone beyond the call of duty: our Chaplain's heroism had saved three infant lives.

Cindy Ross came up to me. "Hi Roy." she said to Easley, then to me she said "The Press control plan is in effect. We've put up a ribbon line 150 ft. away for cameramen and photographers, and 200 ft. away for reporters. Strongly enforced. But the sooner you have something for Captain Thompson to disseminate, the less rabid they will be." I nodded.

Cindy then said "Where's Laura? She okay?" It seemed like the world stopped and everyone around us froze in place as I turned to look at Cindy.

"She went in early, to deliver a baby by C-section." I said. "And I haven't heard anything from her."

"Holy shit." muttered Roy Easley. He began yelling for Firefighters, who had heard me and did not need to be told what to do. Cindy just stared at me, probably wondering why I wasn't acting like a chicken with its head cut off. The truth was... I felt like that, and much worse. But I also knew there was nothing I could do for my wife right now...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

9:25am, Wednesday, October 16th. The Police Chief and Deputy Chief, Fire Chief and Fire Marshal, and FBI Supervisory Agent for the local Resident Agency were at the Police tent. Next to it, Hospital employees were setting up the Hospital's emergency tent. It was better equipped to handle the patients that had been evacuated.

A lot of emergency equipment was stored in the wing that had been attacked, but I was told that this mobile unit had been stored on a truck in the E.R. parking lot, ready to be taken where needed after the recent Point Hollow HAZMAT incident. Silver lining to that cloud, I thought to myself.

Firefighters had gone around to the other side, and entered the damaged wing from the central corridor. Their switching of radio channels had not fooled Your Iron Crowbar, and I was listening in. It might've been better for me if I had not been.

"Second floor has collapsed into the first floor near the explosion point." one Fireman reported.

"Neonatal unit is destroyed. Looks like the oxygen in the room flashed. I have four bodies." came the next call.

"Two bodies, first floor center hallway." said one man. "One nurse, one male in civilian clothes."

"Two bodies in the rubble." said another voice. "One in scrubs. The other is a woman... ah man... her belly is cut open; she must've been being operated on."

My heart was sinking fast. The radio crackled...

"Two more in scrubs... hey! these two are alive! We need stretchers! And there's a baby with one of them... breathing, doesn't appear injured. We're bringing it out to triage..."

Part 8 - Surreality

Fire Marshal Roy Easley was listening to his radio, then came over to us. "They've evacuated that wing of the Hospital in case the structure fails." he said. "They won't evacuate the rest of it unless and until it's in danger of fire or structural failure."

"Makes sense." I said. Indeed, I'd wondered why there had been no mass evacuation of the facility. I would learn that the standard operating procedure was that doctors and nurses did not abandon their patients nor their posts until absolutely forced to.

"But there's no power, is there?" I asked.

"Power was never lost," said Easley, "but the air conditioning units were shut off so that smoke doesn't get sent to the rest of the building. The oxygen system was cut off, and the Gas Company has shut off the gas at the point the line enters the property."

EMS Assistant Chief and former Fire Marshal Zoe Singer came up with Teresa. "Anyone seen Dr. Cordell?" Zoe asked.

"No." I said.

"He's in surgery!" said a voice.

We turned to see the lovely black Nurse Jones, who worked part-time with Laura in her clinic in the Psychology Building, coming up to us.

"Commander Troy, they found your wife." Nurse Jones said. "She's alive, and was taken into surgery. Dr. Cordell is operating on her now."

The relief I felt at the news my wife was alive was almost debilitating, like the time I'd found Carole then Teresa alive after the Ward Harvester explosion. (Author's note: 'Teresa's Christmas Finale', Ch. 02.) I heard someone else mutter "Thank God." It was Teresa, who was literally holding me up after my knees had almost given out on me. I put my arm around her for support.

"Any idea who was found dead?" I asked.

"Her patient, Rhonda Hooper." Nurse Jones said. "Her surgical nurse, Kathy. Her neonatal nurse Connie survived, and was found holding the baby that had just been delivered. It appears to be okay. The father, Jim Hooper, was in the waiting room, and apparently went to the restroom. The explosion tore right through that room. He's dead."

Nurse Jones then said that the other nurse they'd found dead, in the center hallway, was the one we called 'Nurse Ratchett', with whom I had had run-ins in the past. (Author's note: 'Hampered In His Plans', Ch. 01.)

I turned to Cindy and said "Cindy, call Beatrice, Otis's mother. Beatrice is Rhonda's sister, and Beatrice will have to take in Rhonda's son and newborn daughter." Cindy fished out her cellphone.

"Commander Troy, what are you doing here?" scolded Chief Moynahan. "Get in there and see about your wife! We've got it covered out here. Now go!"

"Yes sir." I said. Teresa let me go, and I followed Nurse Jones into the Hospital through the front door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

10:30am. I was on the sixth floor of the Hospital, in the corridor of the main part of the building. The hallway to the attacked wing had been evacuated and locked off. I looked through the waiting room window near the elevator that overlooked the front grounds.

An amazing amount of 'stuff' had happened. Except for the neonatal unit, the fires had been surprisingly limited, and had been completely put out. The Fire Department was still wary of potential hot spots. Whoever had built the Hospital had very wisely routed the electricity in such a way that sections could be turned off without affecting the rest of the Hospital, so the damaged wing was isolated from the rest of the Hospital.

Two additional bodies had been found, in what was left of the cab of the truck. Both were male, but were charred beyond recognition.

In addition to the Hospital tent being set up, the National Guard's 3497th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (M.A.S.H.) from Hamilton County had arrived, and a 200-bed hospital along with a full surgery O.R. had been set up under a huge tent and was ready to go. And it was being used; there had been 60 injured persons requiring treatment for injuries, some serious but fortunately none life-threatening.

I was listening in on the Police radio, and I was exceptionally pleased that Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle had followed the adage 'when in charge, take charge'. She was in full control of just about everything, coordinating the Police and Fire responses. The Police and Fire brass had wisely just gotten out of her way. And she did not radio for me even once. All she needed was a red crowbar... and she didn't really need that.

Sheriff Griswold had arrived, and was at the Police tent. Deputies were beginning to man the checkpoints, so that some of the TCPD Officers could return to patrolling the Town and County. They didn't really need to; everyone was so shocked by the terrorist attack on the Hospital that even the criminals paused for a day...

That was the good news. The bad news arrived in the form of Federal Agents. The BATFE, still called 'ATF" and with those three letters on their windbreakers, had arrived. FBI teams were arriving from the City, as were Homeland Security Agents. Herding the Federal cats was Assistant Director Owen Lange and SAC Jack Muscone, and I did not envy them their jobs. FBI Special Agent Julius Jefferson was also present. And I knew who Miles Winters was. He was now working for Homeland Security.

"There you are, Don." said a voice behind me. I turned to see Dr. Cordell, still in his scrubs.

"How is she, Doctor?" I asked.

"Lucky. Verrry lucky." said Dr. Cordell. "She apparently was leaning over the operating table when the explosion occurred, which shielded her vital organs from most of the blast. And like a good Paratrooper, she kept her feet and knees together when the floor collapsed out from under her." Despite having been a Navy Corpsman, Dr. Cordell had earned Army Airborne wings by making a combat jump; ergo, his use of language familiar to me.

Cordell: "But it looks like a chunk of something hit her on the head. We stitched that up, but she has a concussion, and we're watching for any swelling or bleeding there. She also had some soft tissue damage, but we got in there and stopped the bleeding. She suffered a fractures scapula and her left arm is broken in three places. And we'll have to evaluate for further nerve damage when she stabilizes."

"Where is she now?" I asked. "ICU?"

"She's in recovery." said Cordell. "We'll probably put her in a room, since ICU is pretty full." He glanced out the window. "Army MASH unit?" he asked, seeing the tent.

"Yes sir." I said. "National Guard, out of Hamilton County. They're taking in a lot of the casualties with non-life-threatening injuries, and they're ready if any other section of the Hospital has to be evacuated."

"Well," said Admiral Cordell, "I may be a Navy man, but nobody takes care of their soldiers better than Army medical personnel, thank God for 'em."

"And thank God for you, Admiral." I said. "Thank you for personally taking care of my wife."

"Honor and a privilege." said Cordell. "Best gynecologist I've ever seen, too..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A TCPD Police cruiser brought Rhonda Hooper's sister Beatrice through the barriers and up to the Hospital. Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle met her in the front lobby.


"Is... is it true?" Beatrice said, her voice cracking. "Rhonda.. .Jim... they're both dead?"

"I'm sorry." said Teresa. "They both died." Beatrice collapsed into Teresa's arms, sobbing.

"But the baby made it; she survived." Teresa said. Beatrice looked up unbelievingly. "That's why we brought you here. And we brought Nathan here, too." Nathan Hooper was Rhonda's son, four years old.

They went to the makeshift maternity ward, which was near the Cancer Center. Beatrice came into the room to a nurse attending to the baby while little Nathan sat to one side, not crying but with a sullen look on his face. He did not react as his Aunt Beatrice came up to him.

"Nathan...' she started.

"It's HER fault!" Nathan yelled, pointing at the baby. "My mama's dead because of HER!"

"Nathan!" Beatrice exclaimed. "That's not true!"

"Yes it is!" Nathan yelled, beginning to cry. "If it wasn't for HER, my mama wouldn't have been where the explosion was!"

"Nathan." said Teresa quietly as she came up and sat down beside the boy. "My mother died in childbirth with me. She died when I was being born, but my big sister didn't blame me for it."

The boy just crossed his arms sullenly, and Teresa went on: "My big sister took care of me as we were growing up. And your little sister is going to need you to take care of her."

"NO!" yelled little Nathan. "I don't care if she dies!"

Teresa and Beatrice exchanged a glance. And then they looked over to see two girls, about ten years old, their little heads devoid of hair; they were cancer patients.

"You're Otis's mom, aren't you?" one of the girls said.

"Yes." Beatrice said, barely able to speak.

"Are you going to take care of the baby?" the other girl asked.

"Yes, of course." Beatrice said.

"That's good." said the first girl. "Otis would want you to."

Beatrice looked back over at Teresa, then looked back... but the two girls were no longer standing there. Teresa went to try to find them, but was unsuccessful; they were not among the cancer patients, nor anywhere in the Hospital.

Beatrice would take care of Rhonda's children. Teresa would arrange for Nathan to get psychological examination and treatment, but the trauma of this day on his young mind would not go away, as it never quite did for a woman that grew up knowing her mother had died in childbirth with her and her father blamed her for it...

Part 9 - Turf Wars

ATF Special Agent In Charge Curtis Halsey was tall, lanky, with curly dark hair. And arrogant beyond belief. One did not need to be the Iron Crowbar to see that from the moment he stepped foot on the Hospital grounds.

He came into the Police tent, followed by two ATF Special Agents, and said "I'm taking over this tent for our temporary headquarters. I need everyone out. Now."

"And who the hell are you?" Jack Muscone said.

"That's ATF Special Agent In Charge Curtis Halsey." said Karina White. "The difference between him and God is that God doesn't think He is Curtis Halsey."

"Screw you, White." sneered Halsey. To the others, he said "I'm in charge, here, coordinating the Federal investigation. And I'm taking over this tent for now."

"Like hell you are!" growled Sheriff Griswold. "This is our tent. Go get your own."

"Maybe you didn't hear me, Sheriff------" started Halsey.

"I heard you." said Griswold loudly. "And you make sure to understand that I'm the Sheriff, and I'm the law enforcement authority in this County. You come in here and work with us, not over us, or I'll kick your ass so far out of here you'll think you're in orbit."

"You and whose army?" retorted Halsey.

"The Iron Army." said TCPD Captain Tanya Perlman, who was sitting in her Tank at the radio. Halsey observed her with confusion on his face. Tanya looked up at him and said "More specifically... the Iron Crowbar's Army."

"This is a Federal investigation now." said Halsey. "We're taking over. We're------" He stopped as TCPD Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle stepped in front of him, with her most menacing 'Teresa Cunt' look on her face. Woe betide...

"As I was saying," Halsey said, looking down at Teresa, "you locals are unimportant. You can't handle something big like this."

Jack Muscone barked a laugh and said "They've handled bigger: the Ward Harvester explosion, Standard Tools, Wentworth Tool & Dye. And the Sheriff is right, and you better respect him and his people, and work with him."

"And furthermore to this point," said a scratchy voice as AD Owen Lange came into the tent, "you're not in charge Halsey. Muscone is the SAC for this region, and I've put him in charge. You'll work with him and coordinate through him."

"That order... is countermanded." said another voice. FBI EAD Dr. Robin Isley came into the now-crowded tent. "I'm putting Halsey in charge."

"Better check with Washington on that." said Owen Lange.

"Oh, I have." said Robin Isley, with a smirk of victory on her otherwise attractive face. She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Lange, then said loudly: "The Director of National Intelligence, Brendan Chapel, has personally directed the Intelligence Community to coordinate this investigation through me. And I've delegated the field assignment to ATF SAC Halsey. All of the FBI's field agents and other Agencies's field agents will report to him."

Lange read the document, then handed it to Muscone and walked out of the tent without further conversation. It was awkwardly silent in the the tent. Halsey had a look of smug victory on his face. Then the Sheriff spoke up.

"You're still not getting my tent." growled Griswold, which might've been humorous if not for the tension.

"Fine." said Halsey. "Where's the Press tent?"

"We do not provide the Pressss with amenities such as Press tentsss." drawled Chief Moynahan.

"Where the hell do you expect us to brief the Press, then?" asked Halsey, who sounded more shocked than angry.

Moynahan shrugged his shoulders. "We don't expect to brief them at all, Mr. Halsey. What you Agents of the Intelligence Community do, is up to yoooooo."