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The Long Night
Lucy stood at the kitchen counter, flipping through lesson plans, when the phone rang unexpectedly. She glanced at the number, hesitated, then picked up. Probably spam. Nothing urgent.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mrs. Hartfield?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is HQ from the fire department.” She knew that cadence. “There’s been an accident at the Maxwell construction site. Captain Hartfield has been critically injured. He’s at Central General and being taken into emergency surgery.”
The room tipped. She caught the counter edge, bracing against it. “What… what happened? Is he—is he okay?”
“He’s in serious condition, Mrs. Hartfield. They’re doing everything they can.”
“I’ll be there. I’m on my way.”
She hung up with a shaky grip. Danny had already pushed back from the table, half-risen, eyes wide.
“What happened? Is it Matt?”
Lucy grabbed her jacket from the chair. “We need to go. Now.”
The drive felt endless, though it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes.
She parked without thinking. As they moved through the sliding doors, her hand found Danny’s on its own.
“My husband was sent here for surgery,” she said, getting it out in a single breath.
The receptionist gave her the floor. “Elevator’s down the hall.”
Lucy didn’t wait. She pulled Danny with her.
Low voices drifted through the waiting area. Lucy sat stiff against the chair, Danny close alongside. Someone from HQ had talked to her earlier. Something about incident reports, coordination, maybe a liaison. She hadn’t really listened.
Time dragged. Her thoughts circled, never landing. She pressed her lips together and bit them back.
Danny broke the silence.
“They know he’s tough, right? Matt’s the toughest guy I know. He’s… he’s going to make it.”
Lucy made herself face him.
“Yeah, Danny,” she said. “We’re not losing him.”
She squeezed his hand. Maybe to hold herself. Neither of them let go.
Almost two hours later, Ben walked in. His uniform was fresh, but he looked worn down.
“Any news?” he asked.
“He’s still in surgery.” She shook her head. “They haven’t told us anything yet.”
Ben sat next to her. For a while, no one spoke.
“He was bad when we got him out,” he said at last, quieter than she’d ever heard him. “Really bad. But he’s in the right place…”
“Then we wait,” she said when the sentence trailed off. “And we hold on.”
He met her gaze, then dropped it again.
A few members of Rescue 3 sat along the far wall, out of uniform. No one said much. Somewhere along the wait, Danny had fallen asleep. Ben shifted now and then, but she didn’t check on him.
Well past midnight, the doors opened.
Before she knew it, she was on her feet. The surgeon approached, scrubs creased, face marked by fatigue.
“Captain Hartfield made it through surgery,” they said. “He’s stable for now, but recovery is going to take time. Someone will take you to the ICU later.”
Her knees nearly buckled. Ben held her there.
The ICU door slid open. A doctor stepped out.
“Mrs. Hartfield?”
She rose fast. “Yes. Is he—how is he? Can I see him?”
“You will,” they said. “Before you see him, I need to explain what’s going on. There’s a lot to go through, and some of it will be hard to hear.”
Lucy gathered herself. Ben pushed off the wall but didn’t come closer.
“Your husband arrived in critical condition. The most immediate concern was a traumatic brain injury. He had a subdural hematoma, bleeding between the brain and the skull that increased pressure on his brain. We relieved that pressure surgically. There’s still swelling, and he’s being kept unconscious while we manage it.”
“Is… is there a chance he doesn’t wake up?”
“There is a risk,” they admitted. “We don’t have a clear picture of the damage yet.”
She could only nod along.
“His chest took significant damage. Multiple fractured ribs and a flail segment. One lung collapsed at the scene, and a needle decompression was performed to relieve the pressure. A chest tube was placed in the ER to reinflate the lung. In surgery, we plated the ribs to stabilize the chest wall. He’s on a ventilator now to support his breathing.”
“Okay,” she muttered.
“There is also severe spinal trauma. Right now, he’s not demonstrating movement below the waist. We stabilized the spine surgically, and decompression is scheduled for tomorrow. At this point, permanent paralysis is a real possibility.”
Paralysis. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Matt, who climbed walls like stairs, who pulled people from wreckage, unable to move.
“He also sustained major internal injuries. We removed his right kidney and had to take part of his liver. He lost a significant amount of blood but was stabilized with transfusions.”
The list kept going.
“Beyond that, he also suffered extensive orthopedic injuries on the right side. An open fracture of the tibia, a comminuted femur fracture, torn knee ligaments, and a shattered wrist. Those have been stabilized for now and will require multiple surgeries.”
She’d stopped trying to track it.
“Injuries around the shoulder were identified, but treatment has been deferred while we focus on more urgent issues. And finally, there’s a minor closed fracture of the left tibia, already treated.”
Lucy swayed. Danny caught her balance.
“I need to see him,” she said.
“We’ll allow two visitors at a time. Family only.”
She looked for Ben. He was already beside her. “He’s family.”
A monitor beeped at steady intervals.
Matt was propped upright in bed, head raised, his face slack and swollen. A bruise shadowed his temple. One side of his head was shaved and bandaged; the rest stuck damp against the scalp.
Gauze crossed his forehead, faintly blood-tinged beneath the tape. A tube fed into his mouth, connecting him to the ventilator. She watched the slow rise beneath the brace locked across his torso.
His right arm lay awkward at his side, the wrist held in a metal fixator. A frame spanned his right leg from thigh to shin, rods disappearing into the flesh at rigid angles. His left leg was set in a simple splint; the rest of his injuries lay under heavy bandages.
Tubes and wires ran from his body to machines that surrounded the bed. Each one monitoring, maintaining, preserving.
She stood there, nothing left to react to. But he was here. Still in the fight.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for his left. It was cold, the familiar warmth gone, replaced by the chill of the room. Ben was there in the corner. Her grip closed with more control this time.
“I’m here, Matt,” Lucy whispered as she leaned in. “I’m right here.”
She didn’t let go. All she could do was hold his hand and hope he felt it. Hope he knew she’d come.
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