Saturday's Chapter from Hypemia by Chelle Cordero

Matt could see the devastation from the air. The tornadoes hit suddenly. While North Carolina wasn’t considered in Tornado Alley, they usually had three or four devastating cyclones every spring. They were hoping to find survivors, but those survivors would have injuries. Emergency crews from all over the region were arriving in the wide swath area the storms had torn through. Like many of his co-workers
Matt trained for emergency response with this Special Operations Deployment team. It was still mind-boggling to be put into service. They were given only enough time to pick up the duffle bags they were instructed to have ready.

Matt didn’t know when he would get back home. He worried about Sudah and Aden being alone. The area was still new to his family.
Laurie and Trisha promised to check in with her while Matt was gone; they both had been through S.O.D. deployments in the past and understood how important the support was to the families left back home. Most of the medics at the station had to train for the Special Operations Division and knew they had to be ready at a moment’s notice. That was why Matt already had a small bag packed when the telephone rang the night before; calls went out as soon as the twisters touched down.

Hitting the ground running, literally, Matt barely had time to put his duffle into a tent when he was directed onto a truck headed for the center of what used to be a town. He scrambled into a set of turnout gear and quickly checked the available supplies. The new arrivals checked in with Incident Command and received their I.D. tags before being assigned to separate trucks.

His truck stopped in front of the remains of a church in the center of town.

“We’re going to lower you down into the basement. The youth group was having a sleepover in the church, there are about six or seven still trapped down there.” The crew chief was shouting into the back of the truck towards Matt. “Jay’s going to go in with you. He’s going to cut and clear, you’re going to start treating.”

Matt nodded.

The bell tower was fully intact. It seemed an anomaly as it still stood on the church roof without a scratch. Unfortunately the church roof was lying on the ground covering a two story building that had fallen in on itself. Workers were trying to lift away debris but, like a game of pick-up sticks, they didn’t know which pile of lumber would cause the rest to collapse. With people still trapped, they couldn’t take chances.

Jay was lowered first, Matt followed. He could hear muffled sobbing in the dark – that was a good sign. With flashlights on, they found their way to the first victim. A teenage girl was battered from the debris falling in on her, her right leg was fractured and the bone was protruding through the shin. He felt sorry for her, he knew that it hurt. Splinting it the best he could in the confined space, she was soon ready to be lifted out. Next he moved on to a young boy, timber was lying across his chest and the boy couldn’t escape. Jay helped move the debris and the boy was free. Except for deep scratches and bruises, he was well enough to crawl towards escape. Matt was thankful the boy’s injuries were minor.

They moved four of the seven trapped victims out without incident; two were dead in the carnage long before they got there. The last victim, the pastor, was pinned beneath a heavy metal beam, the kind that was strong enough to hold the floor under an exuberant congregation during services. The man, though weak, was conscious and praying for the souls of the two teens who had perished. He told Matt and Jay how much he appreciated their help.

Matt knew that they had to get the beam off of the pastor before anymore of the floor above caved in. He also knew that lifting the beam would likely kill the man. The solid weight of the beam was crushing the man’s insides…ironically it was also the only thing that was keeping him from bleeding out.

“Son, please tell me honestly what my chances are.” The clergyman laid his hand on Matt’s arm as he was putting a face mask and oxygen on the trapped man. He noticed Matt’s slight hesitation. “The Lord sent you here to do his work and you are doing the best you can. But in the end it is God’s decision whether I live or die, not yours. You’ve already done so much good here by rescuing our children.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to them all in time…”

“That was God’s decision.”

Matt sighed. “Sir, I’m giving you some saline and pain killers. There’s a possibility that when we lift the beam off of you… it’s going to be very painful and you’ll probably lose consciousness.” He added sodium bicarb into the IV line to hopefully keep his patient’s blood pressure a little more even.

“Because of the pain?”

“No, because right now all of your blood is pushed up into your upper body and when the beam comes off it will be like opening a faucet. It’s all going to rush into your lower body and it will be like you are bleeding out.” He kept the explanation simple. Crush syndrome was often fatal. “I can’t give you enough saline to keep your upper body filled.”

Jay was busy positioning an inflatable pillow under the beam to lift it. He glanced sympathetically at Matt. Matt was trying to reassure the man without making any false promises.

“I don’t need any painkillers, son.”

“I think you’ll be more comfortable… and it will make our jobs easier.”

“I don’t feel any pain now…”

Matt wasn’t surprised, he doubted the man could feel any of his lower body. Even if he lived, there might be significant spine damage and paralysis. There was a huge risk he would suffer renal failure. The odds weren’t good, but Matt was going to try his best.

Matt spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Can you see if anyone up there has an old MAST on their truck?” MAST, military anti-shock trousers for short, weren’t used often anymore, but the inflatable trousers could help to keep the patient’s pressure up long enough to get him definitive treatment in the hospital. It was a shot–it was the only shot they really had.

A set of MAST trousers was taken from the local fire department’s EQ and sent down with a reeves and straps to package the Pastor in and transport him up top. Being unconscious would actually be a blessing thought Matt. Jay began to inflate the airbag and the trapped man went unconscious as soon as the pressure was relieved. Matt and Jay pulled him straight out and on to the reeves. He got the trousers on and inflated them quickly. Then they cocooned the reeves stretcher around the man and dragged him towards the hole they had been lowered through. Rescuers on top used straps to drag the man up while Matt and Jay guided him. It was slow going.

The floor above them shifted from the weight of the rescue workers and debris showered down. Matt’s helmet was knocked from his head, Jay was knocked down. When the dust settled both men were coughing. They could taste the plaster, but were otherwise unscathed. The rescue rope was tossed down for them and Matt pushed Jay towards it. As Jay was being pulled up and out of the hole more plaster fell and for the first time Matt actually worried that he might not make it out.

The local towns were torn apart. Houses and entire lives were collapsed. They found a child’s bed and favorite nighttime doll wedged into an uprooted tree, the distraught parents couldn’t find the child anywhere. Even all of the help that arrived couldn’t do anything to relieve the anguish that survivors felt over the loss of their family members. Nearly five days after the tornados tore through the area the hard decision was made to move from rescue attempts to the recovery of bodies. Matt and many of the other local EMS first responders were being sent home.

He only got to call Sudah one time during the four days that he was there. Matt was standing next to a group of federal rescue workers when he tried his cell phone and saw he couldn’t get a signal. One of the DMAT team members let him use a satellite phone to call and say hello to his wife. The two minutes went by too quickly. She sounded strained and he felt guilty for having left her alone for so long. He was going to have two days off after his return and he looked forward to making up lost time with his wife and son.

Each day they found fewer survivors and more casualties. The strain showed on all of their faces. It was hard not to see the faces of their own loved ones in a mass of bodies. They were told that this town was the worst hit, they had the least warning and it appeared the most casualties. The DMAT members set up pseudo hospitals in tents and survivors lined up for treatment of various injuries and other ailments. Supplies like food, water and blankets were being trucked in, but there wasn’t nearly enough yet. Matt and the other members of his S.O.D. team were ready to go home. They missed their families. There was no more they could do there.

As Matt boarded the chopper that was to bring him back to his corner of North Carolina he wondered about all of the patients he treated during his stay. It was always his habit not to follow up with the hospitals. His former paramedic partner, Julie, used to call him cold. There were too many victims, too many bodies, too many families torn apart. MCI’s, multi casualty incidents, were always emotionally draining just because of the sheer volume of lives destroyed.
He shook his head as he remembered how many times Julie tried to encourage him to attend CISD, critical incident stress debriefings, after brutal calls. Of course he always denied the need and called the sessions a sign of weakness. He would never admit it to her, but he considered asking about attending this time.

Since Matt left his car with Sudah while he was away, he needed a ride home from the station. John gave him a lift. He closed his eyes for just a moment, he thought, when John poked him to tell him to get out, he was already home. It felt so good to step onto the gravel of his walkway, he was happy to be home. He hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder. Matt waved John off and looked up towards the house.

Matt could see the broken living room window covered with cardboard. “Sudah?” He bounded up the steps to see her and make sure that everything was all right. “Sudah?” He worried when she didn’t answer right away. She finally appeared just as he entered the living room.

“Matt.” She sounded relieved when she saw him. “I heard a car.” Sudah held Aden protectively in her arms. “I didn’t know that you were coming home today.”

He was puzzled at her defensive posture, but still thrilled to see her and Aden. He took her in his arms. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded into his chest.

“What happened with the window? You didn’t get hurt or anything did you?” He stepped back and looked towards the cardboard covered portal. She had done a good job of cleaning up the glass and sealing the hole. “What were you trying to do?”

She looked scared as she looked up at him. “I did not do that.”

“But Aden…” His son was still crawling…there was no way he could have reached the window.

“Matt, I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“A rock broke the window. There was a note on it.”

His raised his voice. “What? Someone threw a rock through our window? Did you call the police?”

She was barely audible. “No.”

Matt broke away and walked towards the window. “Why not?”

“I am sorry Matt. I do not wish to anger you.”

He whirled around and realized how worried she looked. “I’m not angry at you. Who the hell… What did the note say?”

Sudah sniffled. “That it is my fault.”

“For what? Do you still have the note?”

“I threw it into the garbage basket…”

“Do we still have it?”

He picked up the phone and began dialing. “Get it for me… please. When did this happen?”

“Matt?

“Sudah… please?” He sighed.

She turned and headed to the kitchen slowly.

Sudah was uncomfortable with the police there and looked frightened whenever they asked her questions. She kept adjusting the scarf she wrapped over her hair as a distraction while the police were there. Matt noticed that she was looked for his permission before she responded to any of the cops’ questions.
Suspecting Sudah’s nervous inclination, one of the officers said to Matt that he didn’t think they had a lot of trust in cops over in India. Sudah heard the comment and, for the first time, spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard without straining, “I am Pakistani.”

The words scrawled on the crumpled piece of paper that Sudah retrieved from the garbage said. “They are dead because of you.” Everyone agreed the reference must be about 9/11 and other terrorist bombings around the globe.

Sudah said she heard a car pull up and then the rock came flying through the window – she grabbed Aden and hid. She didn’t have a description of the car or who had thrown the rock.

Even though a police report was taken, the responding officers were frank–they didn’t think they would ever catch the culprit.

“Next time something like this happens, call us right away.” One of the police officers admonished Sudah.

“Next time?” She looked anxiously at Matt.

He put his arm around her shoulder, “I’m going to try to make sure there isn’t a next time.”

One of the police officers that Matt met once before at an emergency scene tried to offer some help. “If you have to go out of town again call us and we’ll send a patrol unit by every so often. Maybe that will make whoever did this think twice.”

That was a wasted trip, he thought as he watched the police cars pull away. They wouldn’t be able to help the inevitable; they wouldn’t be able to stop the payback that he planned. An eye for an eye.

She was very quiet after the police left.

“You okay baby?”

She nodded. “Please do not be angry with me…”

“I’m not.” He hugged her to him again. “I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“You had to go help people. They needed you.” He was quiet and she caressed his jaw. “Was it very sad Matt?”

Matt sighed. “Yeah.”

She demurely removed the scarf. “Our son is asleep.”

He grinned. “And?”

“I would like to show you that I missed you.”

How She Does It -- Chelle Cordero

1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process?


I build a small dossier on each of my main characters and include significant events from childhood to present. I also include details about family life, school and friends. Each character and his/her reactions to events in the story is based on who they are as a result of past experiences. For instance, if you were bit by a stray dog as a child, you might have a remaining fear of dogs.

2. Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?


I develop a basic inkling of a story and then create the characters I need to go into it. While I do keep in mind where I want the story to go, basically my characters write their own story based on their motivations and past. When I throw a curve ball at my characters, I let them react and that's where the story leads me.

3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?

Only in the most general sense. For instance in Final Sin I knew that Julie would be in danger before they figured out who the murderer was and somehow Jake would save her - but the specific hows and whys developed as I wrote the story. Some of the "curve balls" I threw occurred to me as I was writing the scenes.


4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?

Every so often I peruse house and apartment plans although most of what I use is concocted in my mind. I took basic drafting in high school (a specialty art high school) and we learned very elementary architecture drawing; every so often I will sketch out an apartment or house layout that fits my needs. If I had the money I would definitely design my own house!


5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?


For locations, mostly on line unless I am using an actual place I've been. The ability to take a virtual tour gives me the ability to experience new places and "see" it as if I was really there. For careers, cultures, and social venues I use a combination of research and sometimes my own experiences. I have an advantage of also being a journalist and getting to interview a lot of people in various jobs and life styles - so I absorb a lot of what is said to me and I use bits and pieces in my stories to add realism.

Interview with Chelle Corders

I met Chelle at a RWA meeting and got involved with several of her projects. Have read several of her books and enjoyed them very much. She's also responsible for my latest publisher Vanilla Heart Publishing.

1. What is your genre or do you write in more than one?

My main concentration is Romantic-Suspense although I have attempted a few forays into Mystery/Thriller.

2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?

I started out writing the type of story that I enjoy reading - Suspense; add to that, I am a hopeless romantic and think everyone should be in love.

3. Is there any genre you'd like to try or one you would rather avoid?

I have never been a huge Sci-Fi fan although I've been pleasantly surprised by a few good stories, but I don't think I have the type of knowledge necessary to write a successful and believable Science-Fiction... maybe one day I will try only because I believe in stretching oneself.

4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?

Love stories, romantic fiction, romantic suspense - I don't care for the old stereotype of romance with the helpless damsel in distress (most romance has NOT been about that thank goodness). I like to read about men and women who are strong (emotionally) and yet human with flaws,

5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing?

I've been writing... forever. My writing career has grown in stages but the earliest writing goes back to my childhood when my sister and I wrote a poem/story about Martians! I went to school for theatre and drama, and my courses included playwriting and reviewing. I also studied Creative Writing under the guidance of poet Daisy Aldan.

I wrote my first (published) newspaper article when I was 19. "Many" years later when I was pregnant with our daughter I started writing full-time for newspapers and magazines (hard news, advertorial, human interest, and opinion pieces). My first novel with Vanilla Heart Publishing came out in 2008.

6. Which of your characters is your favorite and where can she be found?

This is difficult because I tend to fall in love with all of my main characters.

It's a choice between 2 for heroines - Caitlyn from His Lucky Charm (formerly Forgotten) and Julie from Final Sin. Caitlyn lost a lot in her young life and yet, while it has left her with some insecurities, she is an amazingly upbeat person, very devoted to family and very supportive of those she cares about. Julie in Final Sin has a wild, untamed streak which I can relate to - she is also a Paramedic which is a profession I hold in very high regard. She is intelligent, devoted to her patients, thinks quickly and shows courage in her job and life.

Although you asked "where can she be found", I also have a favorite male character - Tom Hughes. Tom is introduced in His Lucky Charm and has his own story in Within the Law. Tom is Caitlyn's cousin and best friend, he is patient, down to earth, emotionally and physically strong - and ALL Alpha male with just a touch of bad boy in him.

7. Are there villains in your books and how are they created?

What is life without some "bad guys"? Villains can be bad or evil for a variety of reasons - cruelty, selfishness, obstinancy, and of course outright dastardliness. I don't believe that anyone is all good or all bad, people make their own choices as to which path to follow. Believe it or not, a "good guy" and a "bad guy" can share the same motivations, it's how they go about achieving their goals that makes a difference. The villain, or bad guy, thinks only of their needs and wants and is inconsiderate of other people's feelings. Most bad guys are rationale even if not admirable - although the occasional psychopath (as in Final Sin) certainly makes life interesting!

8. What are you working on now?

I am following up on one of the supporting characters from Final Sin - Matt Garratti, Julie's good friend and former Paramedic partner. Matt is now married with a family and he's made changes in his career and venue - he is now a Flight Medic in North Carolina. Like Final Sin, this book will also be a Mystery/Thriller.

9. How did the idea for your latest release occur and what is the name of the book?

Common Bond, Tangled Hearts. I had overheard a conversation about a woman who decided she had reached a point in her life where she wanted to be a parent so she was going to a clinic to be artificially inseminated. My overactive imagination wondered how much connection there was to the biological donors/parents.There is an expression that any man can be a father but it takes a special man to be a dad; Justin and Layne find out just how true that is.

10. How does your latest book open? Include the first bit 400 to 500 words.

Confrontation - both my readers and the main characters are thrown directly into the first abrasive meeting between parents of the same child. A lot of questions remain to be answered.

~~~~~

If he was reading her surprised expression right, she was expecting somebody else to be on the other side of the door when she swung it wide open. Cautiously, the willowy blonde pushed the door partly closed before politely inquiring if she could help him.

Justin took his time letting his eyes roam from her short, tousled hair down to her very long legs. He noticed, in typical male fashion, how very shapely those long legs were. She was wearing a loose fitting shirt and cut off jeans, her feet were bare.

Layne felt uncomfortable as the stranger's eyes made their leisurely excursion. She closed the door just a little bit more and then fortified her courage with the thought that her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Addamson, would open her door at the least little yell she might make.

"Is there something you want?" She impatiently asked him and then blushed when his eyes flew up to meet hers with an amused smile.

Oh baby, where have you been all my life? He thought and then smiled politely. "I was looking for…" he carefully checked a piece of paper he held in his hand. "…for Layne Gillette." Justin said 'Lane'.

She refrained from correcting his pronunciation. For the last few years, Layne had explained to people that it was pronounced like Janie except with an L.

"Who's asking?" No matter that he seemed to fit the exact description of tall, dark and handsome that she and her friends always joked about, she was wary of any stranger who came looking for her.

"My name is Justin Ross…" He waited just a moment to see if there was any recognition, he was disappointed. "I was told that Layne Gillette lives here."

"It's Lay-nee…" She was expressionless.

"Hi, I take it you're Lay-nee?" His eyebrows arched as he emphasized the proper

pronunciation.

"What do you want?" Layne inconspicuously braced herself against the door so she could slam it forcefully in his face if need be.

"It's… uh… personal. May I come in?" He was mesmerized by her golden eyes.

"No." She was firm.

It took a moment before her refusal totally sunk in. Not many dared to refuse Justin Ross anything. He took a deep breath in and started to patiently explain to her that he needed to speak with her privately. "Look, I just came a long way… and we really need to talk…"

"Hey Mom, is that Rita?" The childlike voice startled the both of them. Layne turned her head to answer when Justin pushed on the door with his hand and knocked her off-balance. The door swung open and Justin got his first look at the little boy who had his mother's golden eyes. Like his own hair, the boy had jet-black curly locks and the contrast was extraordinary.