Chapter 2: Daisy
Daisy Zoffler blinked bleary eyes at the computer screen, checking boxes to indicate medications given, orders directed and followed. Somewhere above her, air conditioning clicked on. She shivered, reaching for the sweater on the back of her chair.
The thing about hospitals was they were seasonless, hourless—like Vegas without the gambling. With no window to the outside world and the constant glare of florescence, all that existed for Daisy was the computer, the sound of her patients, the constant alerts and alarms and her pager.
Shoving her arms into the sleeves of her sweater, she stretched and sighed before checking her watch. Working nights sucked, but she had no excuse not to take an extra shift when it was offered, and she loved Dallas City Hospital. The only place she spent more time was Dallas Fire and Rescue Station 58 where her best friend worked.
Still, she wished there were windows so she could see the city skyline instead of the too-familiar beige walls and state-required posters about opioids and insurance.
Daisy took this shift since Mase Ramirez, her best friend in question, was working a forty-eight hour on shift. Refusing to pop-in at the station again, despite the crew's open-armed nature, she'd opted for overtime.
Sighing again, she took a break from the busy work to prop her chin on her hand and study the ER. It was a quiet Tuesday night. One patient, a three year-old with an ear infection, gave half-hearted sniffles from the bay where he and his mother were waiting. Earlier, she'd given the red-faced, screaming baby a dose of Tylenol and numbing ear drops, but so far it was the extent of the ER excitement. Once they got his antibiotics from the pharmacy, the poor guy and his exhausted mother would be on their way, and the ER would be empty.
"We've got burns coming in, Daisy. Firefighter." A flash of sea-green flew by her. Shoving back from the nurses' station, she sprinted after the doctor, heart in her throat.
Firefighters. Mase.
Using the tried and true method of shutting down any emotion that couldn't immediately help her, she burst through the med bay doors just as the ambulance pulled up.
"What do we have?" the doctor asked.
Now in nurse mode, Daisy could process the information she needed. The doctor was David Tanner; the resident at his side, Marley Harvest; and the other nurse, her friend, Kristine Handler. The ambulance pulling up had a number on its side—58.
Please not Mase. Not Mase.
Daisy listened while taking over respiration from the EMT. Once the resuscitator was in her hands, her entire focus went to her patient. Not Mase, but… Oh no.
Daisy knew her. Knew her and liked her, even though she hadn't wanted to. For months, she'd heard about her from Mase. Wait until you meet Emma.
But Daisy hadn't wanted to meet Emma. She didn't want to hear any more about how strong Em was, or how smart she was, or how funny. But like everything Mase asked of her, Daisy eventually gave in. Thankfully, even though Emma certainly met all of her friend's criteria for a girlfriend—tall, blonde, athletic, beautiful—she wasn't. She was the rookie.
"You're at Dallas City Hospital. We're taking care of you, Emma." She wanted to reassure her. You're going to be fine. Don't worry. But she couldn't. Daisy wasn't a liar, and she didn't know before she got a patient into the ER what was going to happen. Sometimes, everything went to shit. The best she could do was comfort them and hope her cool, straight-forward demeanor kept them from freaking the hell out.
Keeping up with the gurney, Daisy listened with one ear while continuing respiration using the BVM, a handheld squeeze bag attached to a mask. Burns were notoriously tricky. While Emma's skin had the rosy flushed color of a second degree burn, there was no telling from her skin whether her lungs were scorched or if her internal temperature was so high her organs were shutting down.
The doctor ordered metabolic panels and blood counts before they began the process of removing Emma's gear. It had done its job—coat, pants, fire hood, boots, gloves—it all protected a firefighter from the worst of the heat and flames.
"Burn surface area?" someone asked.
Daisy covered the minor burns with saline moistened towels while waiting anxiously.
"Less than ten percent," Marley, the resident, answered.
Emma's blue eyes suddenly opened, catching and holding Daisy's.
"Pulse ox dropping," Kristine observed, her voice quiet but carrying through the room.
"Intubate," Dr. Tanner directed. "I want a higher respiratory rate and smaller tidal volume until we figure out the inhalation injuries. Push dopamine and morphine into the IV."
Daisy rushed to follow directions, adding the medication to the IV line. Emma's eyes closed. A moment later, Marley intubated her.
The frenetic pace of the doctors and staff began to slow as they stabilized the rookie firefighter.
"Ready to transfer," Dr. Tanner said, and the room let out a collective breath.
At once, Daisy's anxiety overwhelmed her. All of the work she'd done to keep herself in the moment, her entire focus on Emma, went out the window. With her patient in the capable hands of the ICU nurses and doctors, her brain began to scream questions at her. What happened? Where was Mase? Was he okay? Was he here, injured as well?
Her questions were answered as they rolled out of the bay. Mase stood, along with the other firefighters of his station, down the hall. Most of them, save those who hadn't been on shift, were still in their gear.
"Daisy?" His dark brown eyes met hers, and her heart stuttered.
"Stable," she murmured as they pushed Emma past her colleagues and into the elevator. As the elevator doors closed, her gaze collided with Mase's stare. His dark skin was unnaturally pale, covered with soot and dirt. His hand, when he swept it down his face, trembled.
Everything inside her wanted to rush to him, embrace him and keep him held tight. He'd been in danger tonight, not like he wasn't every night. But tonight it would have reached out and touched him. He was mentoring Emma; he would have been right next to her.
He was going to own this. Blame himself.
I love you, she wanted to say, but she couldn't. That wasn't what he needed right now. He would be counting on his oldest and best friend to be strong, funny and all the things she'd ever been to him. Right before the elevator doors shut, Daisy gave him a small smile, hoping it smacked of friendship and not all-consuming, unrequited love.