Goddess of Justice by Dwayne Clayden (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📕

They donned matching standard-issue EMS parkas and black wool beanies and climbed into the ambulance.

“Medic 1 is responding,” Cook said into the mic.

Cook and Sharma had been partners for three months. She’d completed the paramedic program two years ago in 1978. She slid a black knit beanie onto the frizzy, light-brown hair that hung to her shoulders.

Sharma hit the lights and siren as they exited the station. The ambulance slid across the icy driveway in front of the station and out onto the street.

“Slippery?” Cook asked.

“You think.”

Sharma fought for control of the ambulance. He swung right out of the station the wrong way on a one-way street, then right again, also the wrong way onto a dim one-way street. A block ahead, they saw the stopped cars, and a crowd of people gathered near the far sidewalk. A couple of people—dressed in parkas, beanies, scarves, and heavy mitts—stepped away from the patient and waved the ambulance toward the crowd.

“Helpful.” Sharma tapped the brakes, and the ambulance slid toward the crowd. The tires hit a clear spot, and Sharma stopped the momentum. “I never would have figured out this was an emergency scene.”

Cook grinned. “They’re trying to be helpful. You know, maybe we’re the blind paramedics.”

“Tell dispatch we’re on the scene,” Sharma said.

Cook glared at him. “Thanks for telling me that. I didn’t know I had to call dispatch.” She grabbed the mic. “Medic 1 on scene. Police not on location yet. We have a crowd.”

“Roger, Medic 1. Police were notified and are responding.”

As Cook exited the ambulance, she slid on her black gloves and opened the side compartment to grab her kits. Sirens sounded from several directions. She caught up with Sharma at the patient.

“Paramedics,” Sharma said. “Move back and give us some room.”

Cook knelt next to the patient’s head and Sharma near his waist. Cook slid off a glove and pressed on the side of the patient’s neck with two fingers. “Weak, rapid pulse, too fast to count. He’s got facial bruising and lacerations. He’s missing some teeth and I’m sure the bones around his eyes are fractured. He’s unresponsive with gasping breathing. Mid to late sixties, maybe older. He’s cold to touch.” She glanced at his lower body. Both legs were splayed at unusual angles.

“Fractured pelvis, femur, probably both tibia and fibula,” Sharma said. “We need to get going.”

“He was on his face, so I rolled him onto his back,” a bystander in a suit with a long Burberry overcoat said.

“Did you protect his neck?” Sharma asked.

“Uh, no,” the good Samaritan said.

“I see,” Cook said. “Well, come here and hold his head for me.”

“I’m not sure—”

Cook glared. “You already touched him. Get over here.”

Overcoat man knelt next to Cook, and she placed his hands on the patient’s neck, fingers extended to open the airway. “Don’t let go until I tell you to.” Cook glanced at him. “What happened?”

“It was a hit and run,” Overcoat said. “He was in the crosswalk. A car pulled away from the curb and sped up. He kept going after he hit this guy.”

“You saw a man driving the car?”

“Well, no. But I’m sure—”

“Thanks.” Cook saw a half-dozen cops heading toward them. “You guys, can you get the stretcher and spineboard?”

One cop stepped forward. “I will.”

Cook eyeballed the cop. Sandy-blond hair, wispy mustache with darting eyes that missed nothing. She’d seen him at a lot of calls—his nametag said Robson.

“Great, Robson.” Cook swung back to her patient. “We need to get out of here quickly.”

“Roger that.” Robson waved to a couple of cops standing at their cruiser. “You heard the lady. Stretcher, post haste.”

Cook took the patient’s left hand and set it across his chest. A thin gold band glittered from the fourth finger. She glanced around. “Was there a woman with him?”

The guy holding the patient’s neck shook his head. “He was the only one in the crosswalk.”

Cook nodded. His wife might be getting bad news tonight.

“I’ve got his legs immobilized.” Sharma tied the last knot and eyed his handiwork. “It’s not great, but it will do. They can figure this out at the hospital. Once he’s loaded, I’ll get us there in minutes.”

When the cops were back, they slid the patient onto the backboard, placed a cervical collar and secured him to the board. The police helped lift the patient onto the stretcher and then into the ambulance. Sharma raced around to the driver’s door. Cook glanced at Robson. “Ride with us for continuity.”

He jumped into the ambulance and shut the back door as the ambulance began moving.

Robson stared at the unresponsive patient. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

“I expect so.” Cook started an intravenous.

“Before we get to the hospital?”

“Nope. There’s a rule. No one ever dies in the ambulance.”

“A rule?”

“More a guideline. Although, I have had some patients die the second the stretcher wheels hit the floor at the hospital.”

“Paramedic superstition.” Robson nodded. “I get it.” The odor of booze displaced the air.

“Sometimes being drunk works in their favor,” Cook said. “When they get hit, they’re flexible, and they just bounce.”

“But not this time.”

“Not this time.”

A steady beep—Sharma was backing into the ambulance bay at the General Hospital. When he stopped, the back doors opened, and a half-dozen paramedics helped them slide the stretcher out of the ambulance into the emergency department and race down the hall to a trauma room.

The trauma team was waiting. The patient was transferred from the EMS stretcher onto the trauma room gurney and surrounded by gowned trauma specialists.

Sharma, Cook, and Robson stepped out of the way.

A nurse handed Robson the patient’s wallet.

“I’ll start cleaning and restocking the ambulance.” Sharma gathered their equipment.

“I’ll be right there,” Cook said.

“Yeah, sure.” Sharma rolled the EMS stretcher with their blood-stained equipment toward the ambulance bay.

“Are you going to help him?” Robson asked.

Cook grinned. “Sure. As soon as I get my report done and I’m sure you want a witness statement from me.”

“That I do,” Robson said. “I need to make a phone call and check out this guy. I’ll