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This might be a problem.
Coming back into consciousness was always painful when he didn’t fall asleep naturally (or through the help of medication or alcohol, depending on exactly what point in his life you were thinking of). It was especially painful when he woke up because of a throbbing pain in his side.
Pain. Side. Shit.
Buck let his eyes flicker open. He was crumpled at the base of concrete stairs, broken glass shards and pieces of wood and metal scattered around and under him. Lights flickered from above, sparking to life and dying out in a nonsensical pattern. Beyond that, he could just make out at least three different levels, all in various states of destruction.
He quickly and carefully assessed himself, trying to get his blurry mind to remember his first aid training. Limbs intact? Surprisingly, yes. Wiggle fingers and toes? Also yes. Neck? Aching but not broken, just sore from colliding with either the concrete or something during his fall. Visual check of body? Okay… except for the shard of metal that was embedded into the floor, after having sliced into his side.
Before he did anything else, he carefully reached up to his radio to call for backup, only to discover it was gone. So was his bag of gear. Or was he wearing his air tank? He wasn’t sure. He swore when he realized he was all alone without any backup.
“Well. This sucks,” he grumbled, before reaching down and attempting to probe around the wound. He couldn’t make out any water to sterilize his hands, so he just did what he could to be quick and careful. Within seconds, he realized that the shard wasn’t embedded. He’d just been sliced open. “Well, that’s better than nothing, I guess,” Buck said, letting his head drop back against the floor and staring upwards.
What the hell happened, anyway?
As if the memories were summoned, it all came rushing back.
Los Angeles had suffered another earthquake, not as bad as Eddie’s first week, but worse than the microquakes during the pandemic. They’d been called to a multilevel apartment building downtown with residents trapped after the building had shifted away from the lone staircase, the one that Buck was now at the base of. It hadn’t been a viable entry, as some debris from the surrounding buildings had fallen in front of that entrance, leaving them to go floor by floor using the ladder truck.
He was on the top floor doing one final sweep when the next quake happened. As it was, he also discovered that the climbing gear he was wearing wasn’t in the best of shape, as the carabiner had snapped once the safety rope was pulled taut and he went stumbling backwards over the broken guardrail. His radio must have slipped off in the fall.
“Well, guess I need to try something.” Buck carefully reached into his pocket, feeling for his phone and breathing a sigh of relief when he found it. He quickly turned it on and grinned at the sight of the bars showing he actually had a signal. One quick dial of three familiar numbers later…
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
Okay, he should have thought this through. “Uh, hey May. It’s Buck.”
He heard a gasp on the other end of the line, followed by a quick OhthankGod. “Firefighter Buckley, what is your location? The responders on sight are attempting to make contact.”
He gave the area a quick glance. “Basement sublevel, the base of the stairs.” He tried to turn a little more, maybe to see if there was an unblocked door or something, but that caused his side to rub against the shard. He couldn’t hide his hiss of pain.
“Are you injured, Buck?” From her tone, May was trying to focus and remain professional, but it wasn’t working. Buck hated that he was hurting her like this.
“There is a shard of metal against my side. Small wound, barely bleeding. Probable concussion, as well. Don’t know about-”
There was a beep and the call dropped. Buck swore as he looked at his screen. Sure, he probably still had a signal, but it didn’t help that his battery was drained. That’s what he got for reading on his offtime and forgetting his Kindle at the loft. (Or, rather, forgetting it in Eddie’s living room, but he wasn’t about to admit to that until Eddie was ready.)
He lay there for another moment, then carely looked down to check his wound again. “Shit, maybe not as minor as I thought.” The gash had opened up a bit more and was steadily bleeding, enough to make him want to do something.
They are going to kill me for this… He let the thought pass through his head as he carefully tore a section of his shirt off, using it to press in between the wound and the shard. The fibers were rough on the torn skin, but it was better than bleeding. He could deal with the pain for a bit longer.
Time passed. He periodiaticly looked at his phone, willing it to turn back on. He tried getting up but his body was one big bruise so he dashed that thought. Every once in a while he could hear the sounds of machinery and things dropping, but it wasn’t near him. It was an echo from elsewhere.
It was between two moments of counting (first, how far could he count between light flickers, then how many pieces of glass were in his general view) when something changed. A shape blocked out the light.
“Are you really taking a nap right now?”
Buck breathed a sigh of relief at the sarcastic words. There had been a part of him, a very quiet part anyway, that had been worried that no one would come looking for him. Of course his worries were unfounded.
“Got bored waiting for you, Eds,” he called back.
He let himself relax while watching Eddie and Bobby descend down two flights towards him. He’d be laid up for a bit, but he was safe.