Chapter 21

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Chapter 21

The rescuers had to secure the scene before they could even enter. Firefighters worked hard to shore up unstable areas of the building, before they allowed any of the paramedics to come in. Finally, one firefighter made his way to my side, coming in from the blown-away hall door. He carefully edged his way down the wall, across the piles of debris, and knelt down next to me.

"Are you Portia?" he asked gently.

I nodded.

"Portia, my name's David. I'm a firefighter paramedic. I'm going to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer me with a yes or a no. I don't want you to move your head or body at all. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I wheezed, and he slipped a small monitor on the end of one of my fingers.

"I'm going to place an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth to help you breathe better now," he said after looking at the monitor and then gently placed a soft plastic mask with a bag hanging off the end on my face.

"This bag down here's an oxygen reservoir. It's there to help you breathe better," he explained.

I inhaled deeply several times, letting the cool air rush into my lungs.

"How old are you, Portia?" David asked while he pulled more equipment out of the large canvas bag he'd brought with him.

"Sixteen," I replied through the plastic mask.

"Do you know what day it is today?"

"Monday."

"Good," David said. "Do you know where you are?"

"At the high school," I responded.

"Very good. Portia, can you tell me where you hurt?"

Everywhere, I thought. "My back," I said aloud. "I was slammed against the wall."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"I only know we were getting ready to mix our chemicals together in the burner when there was a horrible explosion from the front of the room. I was looking down, though, and I didn't see anything."

"That's okay. I'm going to examine you real quick now. You'll feel my hands pressing on your body. You need to tell me if you hurt anywhere I touch, all right?"

"Okay." My teeth chattered uncontrollably.

David began to run his fingers over me. When he reached the middle of my back, white hot pain shot through my spine, and I sucked in an excruciating breath and cried out.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you okay?"

"It's all right. I'll be fine." I gritted my teeth, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes at the agonizing throbbing that still radiated from where he'd touched.

David's face was full of concern. He watched me for a moment before speaking again. "I'm going to continue now." His hands resumed their palpating down the rest of my backside.

"Portia, can you push your feet against my hands?"

I did as he'd asked.

"Great," he said. "Now I'm going to check your arms."

"Ouch!" I said as soon as he started.

"You have a lot of tiny shards of glass embedded in the underside of your arms and hands. I'm not going to check them anymore, but since you can't squeeze my hands, can I get you to wiggle your fingers for me?"

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