Blizzard: E.R episode written in fanfic formating.

By Fantasyficcer:

Disclaimer:

I own nothing:

Advisory:

This fanfic will have some graphic imagery. Reader discretion is strongly advised; you have been warned.

First Half: Lull:

Snow blanketed the mid west in over a foot and the worst news...it still fell, heavily. the ER was, pardon the expression and pun...dead. There were no patients. I didn't know that Jerry was coming into the hospital at the same time as a rollerskating Nurse nearly took him out in the empty ER. I was told all of that much later on. After the mess that became the ER that day. I was told later. me and, Karen were in a dark room where Carter was talking a much nap. We were putting a cast on his leg, as a practice joke. Oh, by the way, hi. I'm D.r Mark Greene. When Carter awoke, after Karen knocked over a pan, I told him to go back to sleep. That were taking inventory of gurneys. He went back to sleep. Good. We finished the cast, chatted about my wife Jen and eventually exited the room. As I walked into the ER proper, I noticed that the entire place was empty. No damn patients.

Time passed and, the ER didn't gain any patents. It was a good thing, really, for a hospital. The ER department was empty of patients. They should, he should, be pleased. right? Why did he feel so petulant? And, bored. So, fucking, BORED! Hours passed with nothing. Snow fell more and more heavily. The other doctors and, nurses entertained themselves in the only ways they could. The kid os a nurse was there and put to work, cleaning trash cans, Maligue sang a rap song, I and several of the others got into a snow ball fight, we played floor hockey with clean-ex packages. Silence, aside from the odd joke here and there. The phone rang, and my ears perked up. It turned out to be a drunk trying to order a pizza. I hung up on him after the fifth, "This is a hospital not a pizzaera!" Nothing. It was a lull. Then, the C.B radio went off. I looked at it. Hathaway answered.

"Come in, Country General...come in, country General!" A young sounding E.M.T called over the speakers.

"This is County General, go ahead?" Hathaway replied, her crisp reply cutting through the ER's superfluous chatter like a chainsaw through tissue paper, launched by a sling shot.

Malique dropped his gang signs as I walked toward the C.B and faced the t.v hanging over the admissions desk on the opposite wall. There was a news report playing on it. The volume was low though and I couldn't hear it well. "Turn this up?" I asked softly. Jerry increased the volume and we watched as events were played out. "Oh...boy." I mumbled.

"Implementing disaster protocall." The young E.M.T sounding said over the C.B.

"Is this a drill?" Hathaway asked the radio, her face slightly more pale than before.

I waited with bated breath, hoping it was a droll. But no. he could see that it wasn't by just watching the t.v. It was no drill. The C.B voice confirmed it a moment later. I winced.

"Negative, General. It's a mess out here! Priority one. I repeat priority one. A thirty two car accident on the highway. One fender bender turned into a multi car mass casualty.

"How many casualties?" Hathaway asked briskly. The voice replied in kind.

"Eighteen majors twenty four minors. Fifty to one hundred casualties."

Hathaway's face went white. She kept the calm in her tone though. "How meany are we gettin?"

"County's power's down, you may get them all."

"E.T.A?"

"Less than ten."

"Understood." The connection ended.

"Lets move, guys!" I shouted, clapping my hand three times sharply rapidly. "Chop, chop! Let go! Move, move, move! We know the drill by now! I said...LETS GO LETS MOVE!" We all prenatally broke our necks flinging ourselves toward stacks of saline drip sacks, drugs, surgical tools, suppositories, rolls of gauche, bandages, face shields, trauma bibs, extra streakers, bed, and, we opened all of the privacy drapes until they needed to be closed again. We also moved chairs, tables, of and gurneys out of the way then...we waited. We checked our equipment, readjusted our gloves, which we were wearing, and, stood in a ready row as the screaming sirens, dozens of them, came roaring closer...closer...closer... All of us stood there. All fourteen of us, standing there. A drop of sweat dripped into my left eye. That stung. It was time to make one hundred doughnuts.

Part 2: Floodgates:

"Holy triage, Bat-Man." Jerry the clerk muttered to himself as the shit hit the fan.

The front double doors exploded open and closed so much that day that the next day, their hinges needed to be tightened. "Where's my MOMMY!?" A little girl screamed in panic.

"Lets get Mr. Barns up to the O.R. Take this windshield wiper out of his eye." Benton shouted over a man bellowing for his wife.

"Can somebody help me re-attach my thumb?" A young black man asked in general, holding the appendage aloft.

"Here's the rundown on tags. Green, walking wounded, yellow, serious, red critical, black, gone from red to dead. Whites, not worth our time. Least, not right now. Move!"

"Kay." Carter nodded, sprinting toward a knot of E.M.T.s bringing in a woman with a large portion of a windscreen jutting out of the center of her face. She was screaming in agony.

I had to hop over a D.O.A, black tag, whom had disgorged much of his small intestine on the ER floor. He was a Grandpa looking guy. His poor family. Doug was attempting to treat nine kids at once, six of them with burns and broken bones, one with broken ribs, another with an obviously broken wrist. they needed more people. this was a mess. Blood was splattered all over the floor, some on the walls and, several beds were sopping with various bodily fluids. People were screaming, crying, demanding, it was pure chaos.

After over twenty hours of ridding gurneys on the way to the O.R, covering bodies, treating burns, sucking chest wounds and, shattered bones, I was far beyond exhausted. As were many of the staff. We had to pull over half the staff at the hospital. Ninety four patients in total. but, only four were dead on arrival. Out of ninety four? Nah. That was great odds. Three of them were older people. One had been a thirty six year old. least no kids. Considering the scale of the disaster, we got lucky this day. It was a breeze. After doing the normal things, I went back home, made love to jen, slept and, the next day, we got a gang shooting. I sighed. Time for more doughnuts! I couldn't wait.