Chapter 10: 10. Code Black
:i have a feeling that i'm going to die: Emily smiled at the text Meredith sent her. Thinking of how Izzie had sent a similar text just ten minutes before with the addition of a play by play on what Cristina had said to get the short blond out of bed, the brunette set down her breakfast banana and replied.
:i heard. You know, it might be right:
:yeah. See you at work.:
:bye:
.
"Okay," Emily's eyes bulged as she saw Alex scream at Mrs. Carlson. "Ouch, thanks Alex. You shut her up,"
"Good, okay. Now, can you tell me what exactly happened to your husband?" He asked in a quieter tone. The woman tried to formulate words before caving and sobbing into Alex's chest. "Really?" he asked to no one in particular and looking around. Seeing it as a time to rescue her friend, she gently pried Mrs. Carlson's hands off Alex and wrapped the weeping woman in a hug. Taking Alex's spot, she stroked the woman's back soothingly and settled on the bed. Go, she mouthed and he nodded gratefully, running to the elevators.
"Mrs. Carlson, it's alright now. You're, uh, kinda holding on hard." She winced as the woman's fingers dug even harder into her back. "Now, can you please tell me what's going on? Mrs. Carlson? Mrs. Carlson," She repeated and finally managed to tear herself away from the bloody woman. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red and Emily wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her trauma gown. "Tyler, get me a gown for Mrs. Carlson." She addressed the nurse and gently took off the woman's brown jacket and purse. As she pulled the shades around the bed and changed her patient slowly, she ran through the symptoms in her head. Revealing the bed again, she gave the bloody clothes to Tyler who packed it up as the woman sat on the bed.
"All this blood and none of it is hers,"
"She's fine. Acute anxiety reaction. Two of diazepam P.O. to calm her down," she instructed, looking down at the chart they had printed off.
"She in shock?"
"I'll say. I mean the shock part. It was shocking," Mrs. Carlson scoffed, staring at the tiled floor distantly. "I'm shocked." Her voice was laced with annoyance and a bit of anger. "You tell my husband when I get my hands on him, he's a dead man, do you hear me? Scaring me like this." Her head lifted to meet her doctor's eyes. She smiled faintly, wiping away the last of the blood with a piece of gauze.
"Will do. But what for? How exactly was he injured?"
"Mindy?" a foreign voice called out and Emily pushed back the curtains even more to reveal a middle-aged man.
"Over here, you moron,"
"How's James doing?" the man asked, stopping in front of them. Emily raised an eyebrow as Mrs. Carlson snapped.
"Oh, he's bleeding all over the place. That's how he's doing. The girl in the ambulance put her hand inside of him!" Her voice rose to a near-yell before becoming full-blown. "That's how he's doing!"
"What are you yelling at me for?" the man asked innocently, thoroughly confused.
"Because! Because you and James are like idiots!" Curling her lip, Emily rolled her eyes and shared a look with Tyler before they returned to their tasks, pretending not to listen. "Playing like eight year-olds."
"Excuse me-" She tried to interrupt but they quickly overrode her with their loud volume.
"We don't play, we re-enact,"
"You play. You put on costumes and you build your stupid toys and you play," Mrs. Carlson persisted, making a hand gesture to enforce her point. The man stood his ground, shaking his head.
"No, we re-enact!" Holding back a groan, Emily handed her clipboard to Tyler and held out a hand to interrupt but Mrs. Carlson continued.
"Nobody re-enacts World War II, you moron!"
"Mrs. Carlson, please calm down and tell me exactly what happened. What injured your husband?"
"My husband and his moron best friend,"
"Could you stop-"
"Moron best friend decided to build some kind of big gun." Emily nodded as the man corrected the woman.
"Yeah, an exact replica of the finest allied anti tank weapon of World War II." The doctor felt her blood freeze. Exact replica. "The M981 bazooka." Taking out her phone, she quickly searched up the weapon he mentioned, confirming her fears.
"Exact replica, did you say?" she asked weakly but Mrs. Carlson's fit of rage overrode her.
"So they put on their stupid costumes, and they go out into the backyard and they try and shoot the thing." Mindy's voice became breathy as she sputtered, so caught up that she forgot to breathe.
"I'm the gunner. James is the loader, okay? We followed the specifications exactly. You should see it." Having enough, Emily stepped between the two and turned to James.
"What ammo did you use, sir?" she asked. "Tell me, exactly. Right now," Glancing at Tyler, she shook her head slightly as the older man started to explain the dimensions, ending with a gushing compliment. Mrs. Carlson rebuked, once again telling them that they are idiots as she explained that her husband went around the front of the weapon, and that's when the bazooka fired. And then they commenced their needless arguing again.
"He shot himself with a bazooka, right?" When Mrs. Carlson confirmed that, she turned to the weapons-maker. "He shot himself with a bazooka. Alright, okay. Was there an explosion or anything?" she pressed, ignoring her patient's snide comments. Panic was welling up inside her throat and she fought for it to stay down as she kept her tone level.
"Huh?"
"You heard me. Was there an explosion?" she said slowly. The man clearly saw the seriousness of the situation as he shook his head.
"No, why?"
"You are fucking joking, right?" the brunette muttered weakly under her breath. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she turned away. "Sit down sir." Managing the words just barely, she began at a sprint down the hall, pushing through doors.
"Oh, god…" The man sat down, finally realizing what had happened.
"What?" Mrs. Carlson asked, now confused as Emily took out her work-phone. Dialling the O.R. Burke was in, she prayed to God he would answer. Shooting down the hall, she managed to slip into the elevator before it closed. Tapping her foot impatiently on the ground, she finally heard the line click.
"Dr. Burke?" As soon as the elevator doors opened, she began running down the hall, muttering the occasional 'excuse me' as she nearly crashed into carts and nurses alike. "Dr. Burke, are you in the O.R. right now?"
"Yes, I am. You better have a good damn reason to interrupt me." The attending's tone was exasperated. "A scalpel is in my hand, Moore. Make it fast,"
"I need you to listen and tell me, is the wound through and through in James Carlson." A pause later, he declined.
"No. There is no exit wound. Moore, the longer he is open, the higher chance of infection. He is bleeding out." Cursing loudly, she took two steps at a time up the stairs, finally reaching the O.R. floor. Her legs protested as she finally pushed onward and threw open the door.
"Dr. Burke," she panted, snapping her phone shut. "I need to speak with you." The cardiothoracic surgeon narrowed his eyes but complied. Coming to the door, the older surgeon had his hands wrapped in a blue towel. She knew her time was short. "He shot himself with a bazooka. There was no explosion and his best friend said it was an exact replica. There's a reason to believe that a live missile is in his body - I just need you to check." Eyes widening, he turned back to the table where his patient laid. After a short questioning, it established all their fears. She swallowed painfully slow as she met eyes with Alex and Meredith near the table, tools close by their hands.
When the attending finally turned away, Emily slipped backwards out of the room, only allowing her head to poke in.
"Hannah."
"Yes, Dr. Burke?"
"What do you feel inside of Mr. Carlson? What is your hand touching?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is your hand touching anything hard?" Meredith's head slid back, confused.
"Hard?" Emily swallowed at how tense the room's aura was. The other surgeons taking notes shared bewildered glances and some even shot the intern glares.
"Like metal."
"Um… I don't know." The paramedic glanced down at her hand but Dr. Burke cautioned her not to move.
"Just tell me what you feel."
"Dr. Burke, what's going on?"
"Hannah."
"Um, my fingertips are touching something… kinda hard. Yeah. Yeah, definitely." Emily's heart leapt up to her throat and she wanted to close the door and flee. Instead, she stayed put and heard the moment anesthesiologist figured out what had happened. Although warned by Dr. Burke, that didn't prevent the paramedic from picking up on Dr. Milton's unease.
"What? What's wrong?" There was a anxiety that was building up in the young woman's eyes.
"Hannah, I don't want you to move - not your hand, not your body, not an inch."
"Okay. You should know you're starting to scare me."
"Don't be scared. Everything's going to be fine. Dr. Grey, can you…" The pause was deliberate. Meredith approached them, confused as she shot a look between the two surgeons. Noting the fear echoing in Emily's eyes, she turned to Burke. "I want you to walk out of this room - walk, do not run - go and tell the charge nurse that we have a code black,"
For a moment, Meredith paused, trying to decipher both his words and instructions. "I'm sorry, code black?"
"Code black. Tell him that I am sure," He enforced without taking his eyes off the paramedic. He took in a shuddering breath as Meredith gave the slightest of nods. "And then tell him to call the bomb squad."
Meredith pulled her mask off. Emily inhaled through her nose, trying to calm her frazzled nerves as together, the two interns walked down the hall to the nurse's station. A man sat behind the counter and looked up lazily on their arrival.
"Can I help you?" Meredith leaned over, seriousness twisting her mouth into a frown.
"Dr. Burke is calling a code black," The blonde murmured causing the man to freeze. "He says he is sure, and that you have to call the bomb squad." Nodding, the charge nurse began typing furiously, not glancing down at the keyboard. Once that was done, he grabbed the phone and dialled.
"Right away, doctor."
"This is Seattle Grace Hospital. A code black has been issued and the bomb squad must be dispatched to our location." The two interns, satisfied that they've done their job but no less in complete dread, started heading back to the O.R. where staff filed out.
"Didn't you say you thought you were going to die today?" Emily asked and Meredith smiled grimly.
"Derek said this feeling would pass."
At that, Emily snorted. "Maybe it'll pass when we're dead.
.
"Why the hell are you laughing?" Emily asked, confused and vexed as the blonde erupted into peals of laughter. "You just said Meredith could be a corpse by the end of the day,"
"I have really inappropriate reactions to this kind of stress." The blonde fanned herself as Emily laid down on the bench. The hardwood comforted her bones in a strange way as Izzie cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, hold on."
"Okay?"
"Yeah," Izzie affirmed. Alex glanced at them, pondering what to do next as Izzie tried to hold in another set of giggles.
"Do we call her family?"
"We are Meredith's family."
"There is no family to call besides the one right here, Alex," Emily informed him as Izzie started laughing again. "Seriously?" Apologizing multiple times, Izzie stood and left, Alex following soon after. "God... George, how's Bailey, anyway?"
"She wants to pack up, go home. She knows about Tucker," George told her and she nodded, sitting up. "She's scared. She isn't Bailey right now,"
"It's a day to be scared, George," Emily murmured, thinking what in hell possessed Derek to stay down there. And how scared she was even though she convinced herself that no, they weren't friends. Or maybe it was fear for Meredith and Cristina. Definitely unbearable worry for her two friends. Or maybe it was all three.
Whatever it was, she felt it all stack on top of her head and felt tremendously heavy.
"Yeah, it is."
.
"Third night in a row?" Joe asked, surprised as he tipped the bottle to pour the golden liquid into the glass again.
"Being near-dead makes you realize that you don't appreciate alcohol enough," she joked facetiously. "But, I wasn't Meredith. My hand wasn't touching the bomb. If I'm acting like this, how is she?" the brunette muttered rhetorically, nursing her drink.
"I haven't seen her for a few days," Joe realized, musing. "Tell her I miss her, next time you see her."
"Will do, Joe." She waved two fingers in a salute, letting him leave to tend to other patrons.
"Dude," Alex scoffed, downing the last of his beer.
"Shut up, Alex," Emily sighed, sitting up straight. Signalling for another round, she glanced at the male. "What are you doing here?" She retorted, peeling the shell off the barnut. Popping it in her mouth, she raised an eyebrow.
"Making sure you don't get in trouble." He shot back before adding a bit half heartedly, "Pretty girls have bad things happen to them," Alex grumbled. Despite her doubts on whether he was joking or not, her heart warmed on his thoughts. It was true, at this hour, near one in the morning, many nobodies and sleazy men and women alike dragged themselves into the bar.
"Thanks, Alex." She meant it.
"Shut up,"
"You've ruined the moment." He offered a smirk.
"Be glad I don't want in your pants yet." Grinning herself, she took a sip of her liquor.
"Right. Joe! I think we need another drink for this loser." Tilting her head to Alex, she smirked as the bartender set another bottle before him. "On me."
"Thanks."
A/N: Edited - August 29, 2018
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