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saw this as well and quickly waved them through.
    Sarge extended his hand. “I’m Professor Henry Sargent from Harvard. These are my friends Julia Hawthorne with the Boston Herald and Katie O’Shea with, uhm, she works in Washington.”
    The doctor looked puzzled. Katie perked up and helped Sarge with the introductions.
    “I’m a spook , or at least I used to be.” She laughed.
    “A what?” he asked.
    Katie and Julia started laughing.
    “Listen, that was another life. How can we help you, Doctor…” Katie searched for a name badge.
    “Daugherty. I’m Dr. Judd Daugherty, a third-year resident here at Mass General. As you can imagine, we’re a little shorthanded. This is the biggest mass casualty incident in the history of the hospital.”
    Mass General had a storied history. Founded in 1811 under the guidance of John Warren, an ancestor of J.J.’s, it was the original teaching hospital of Harvard Medical School. It was the third-oldest hospital in America and conducted the largest hospital-based research program in the world. It commanded the best of the best in the medical field, but it was clearly challenged by the events of the last four hours.
    At this moment, Mass General was overwhelmed with the injured. The number of casualties far exceeded what Sarge envisioned, and he was glad that Julia convinced them to assist. These were Bostonians, and they needed help.
    “Well, Dr. Daugherty, what can we do to assist?” asked Sarge.
     

Chapter 6
    Thursday, September 8, 2016
    10:35 a.m.
    Massachusetts General Hospital
    Boston, Massachusetts
     
    Julia and Sarge followed Dr. Daugherty as he led the trio to a temporary scrub station. A table was manned by a nurse who was handing out clothing, gloves, and temporary badges.
    “We’ve had our staff arrive without their scrubs or IDs,” pointed out Dr. Daugherty. “Sadly, several of the injured are hospital personnel. One of the explosions occurred on the east side of the campus near the ambulance entrance. There’s a thirty-foot-wide hole in the middle of Blossom Street. A part of the building collapsed and we began treating the injured in the ER.” Dr. Daugherty motioned over his shoulder to the glass entrance of the emergency room.
    He continued, “We lost generator power yesterday afternoon. The feds promised us more fuel, but nothing was delivered. When the injured started arriving at dawn, it was too dark inside the building to deal with the mass casualties. We had no choice but to treat the vast majority of the victims out here.” Dr. Daugherty turned and looked across the asphalt entry. “Welcome to our new burn unit.”
    Julia tried to count the cots and the injured. She estimated three hundred injured and less than fifty hospital personnel. Some were dressed in scrubs, others were in street clothes. All wore masks to cover their nostrils from the smell.
    “I’ve never smelled anything like this,” said Katie.
    “Some of the people were actually burned by fire as a result of the car accidents on the Longfellow,” said Dr. Daugherty. “But the majority of the injured have been exposed to extremely high temperature steam and hot debris, which hit them without warning. I have to warn all of you, some of these injuries are grotesque. The most severe cases have been moved inside for treatment. But you will still see some third-degree burns, and you need to be prepared for that.”
    “How will we know what to do?” asked Julia.
    Dr. Daugherty turned to the personnel manning the table and began to gather clothes, masks and gloves. He gave them each a blank identification badge and a black sharpie.
    “Write your names on here and put Daugherty in parentheses underneath. That will let hospital personnel know that you are assigned to me. I’m going to take you on rounds and assign you to assist certain patients.”
    “We don’t have any experience with burn victims,” said Sarge. He didn’t want the doctor to expect too much from them.
    “I