Read Online Life Support by Robert Whitlow - Free Book Online Page A

to the hospital. You need to see a doctor yourself.”
    At the mention of a ride in the back of the police car, Rena shrank back. This was a trick. The grotesque looking detective wanted to put her in the back of the vehicle and take her to jail. The thought of involuntary confinement in any form prompted another wave of nausea. She put her hand over her mouth.
    â€œAre you going to get sick again?” Porter asked.
    Rena closed her eyes to shield them from the detective’s gaze. She knew that the wrong expression on her face could be her downfall. There was something disturbing about the detective. His eyes, especially the left one beneath the scar, seemed to be probing for something, attempting to look within her. She struggled to shake her fear.
    â€œCould someone drive my car?” she asked. “I can lie down in the backseat.”
    The detective paused then turned toward the deputy who was standing outside the patrol car, talking on the radio.
    â€œI’m going to drive her vehicle!” Porter yelled. “See if the ambulance can meet us at Henderson’s Store.”
    Rena moved shakily to the rear door. The detective reached out to steady her. It took every ounce of Rena’s will power not to snatch her arm away from the detective’s grasp. He opened the door for her, and she slid into the backseat and lay down. The deputy in the patrol car turned on the siren and took off in the lead.
    Porter followed at a fast pace down the gravel road. Rena bounced up and down as she lay on her back. She looked out the opposite window. In some places the limbs of trees met and turned the gravel road into a green tunnel. She began to feel better but didn’t sit up. She wanted to avoid any encounters with the detective’s eyes looking at her in the rearview mirror. Eye contact could encourage conversation, and conversation could lead to questions. Too many questions could become interrogation, and interrogation could lead to a murder charge. She kept her mouth shut and rehearsed her lines.
    The sound of the tires on the gravel road suddenly stopped. They had reached a paved highway. Still following the wailing siren of the patrol car, they sped at a much faster speed for a few more minutes and then pulled off the roadway and stopped. Porter turned in his seat.
    â€œAn ambulance will be here in a couple of minutes.”
    Rena sat up.
    â€œWhich hospital are they taking me to?”
    â€œMitchell Regional. It’s our local hospital. If they can’t handle a situation, a patient is sent to Greenville.”
    Rena took a tissue from a small box on the seat beside her. She wasn’t crying, but dabbing a tissue to her eye would be a good gesture. She made sure the detective saw her.
    â€œAnd my husband? Where will they take him?”
    â€œHe will go to Mitchell Regional, too.”
    Rena wanted to force a tear but nothing came. Crying on cue had never been her strong suit. She quickly tried to think of something sad but nothing came to mind that could produce a tear. Her bad memories were wells of anger not sorrow. She was spared further conversation when a red-and-white ambulance turned into the parking lot. Two medical workers rushed out of the vehicle. Though she didn’t need assistance, Rena decided it wouldn’t look right to experience a miraculous recovery. She let herself be led slowly to the ambulance where she lay down on a stretcher in the back. The EMTs scurried around her, poking, prodding, and checking her vital signs.
    Giles Porter’s face appeared. “I’ll see you at the hospital.”
    Rena closed her eyes.
    The ride to the hospital took fifteen minutes. Rena didn’t see or hear any sign of the helicopter when they rolled her into the emergency room entrance. She had an IV in her arm, and an orderly whisked her into a treatment room. A handsome young physician shone a light in her eyes and carefully moved her arms and legs. Rena dutifully