“Yes,” she says into the phone. “I understand. No, we’ll be ready. I have the staffing draft on my desk.” She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll send it through within the hour.”
She hangs up.
“Was that the Council?” I ask.
“You guessed it.” She sighs. “We have the new SOPs. They just came in. I need you to go through them with me, thenwe need to start cascading the information to the department heads. I want everyone briefed before they leave today. And then I want the night shift briefed before you go.” She winces because it will mean I have to work later than normal.
“On it.”
She slides a printed copy across the desk. “Here you go. I emailed you a copy, as well. Take a look and let me know if you have any questions. We also need to draft proposed changes and get them back to Reed before the end of business.”
I read the document.
The new protocols regarding the Reds are extensive.
The expected casualty rate is what really stops me, though. I whistle low.
“To think we were worried about cutbacks.”
“How are we supposed to scale up by midnight tonight?” I ask.
“We’re not. We’re scaling up over the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours and then recruiting more staff from the Mainland on a contractual basis. They’re not expecting any large numbers to cross the border at first.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t,” I tell her.
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
I’m already making notes. “I’ll get the on-call list sorted. We’ll need to pull from the locum pool too.”
“Yes. And I want every senior nurse in here by four for a briefing. I’ll do surgical and emergency separately at five and six.”
We go back and forth for the next ten minutes. I jot everything down, ready for action.
She rubs her face with both hands. “Carla, I know it’s a lot.”
“I’m fine. I’ll handle it.”
“I know you will. That’s why I’m dumping it all on you.”
“Dump away.”
She gives me a tired smile. “Go. I have surgeons to wrangle.”
I leave her office and practically jog back to my desk. The next two hours pass in a blur as I run through the list I just made.
I’m halfway through reformatting the cascade memo for the department heads when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I almost ignore it.
Then I pull it out and see Flint’s name on the screen.
I stop typing, and my eyes go wide; my heart rate picks up a few notches.
I sit back in my chair. The hospital noise around me does not actually quiet down, but it feels like it does for a second.
Hey, Carla. Magma told me you came by today. I’m sorry I missed you. I’m really glad you stopped in. Things are insane here right now – the treaty has us slammed – but I’d love to see you. Coffee soon? I’ll be in touch as soon as I can come up for air. Flint.
I read it twice.
