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Authors: Jerry B. Jenkins
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uncle. Alfonso ducked out of the way at the last second, then deftly dove through the window of the car. Max followed, and as he got his torso in the window and pushed off the door handle with his foot—disappearing from sight—Florence heard Alfonso yell, “I’m safe in here! I’m safe!”
Florence was within fifty feet of them now. She hated to interrupt their fun, but it was time for at least Max and her to get inside and cool off with some ice cream. Maybe a Ranger could keep running around in this heat, but not them.
Then she heard the car start. “Hey!” she hollered. “No time for joy ridin’! Let’s go!”
“I’ll just run him around the block!” Alfonso said. “Be right back!”
“Make sure he’s buckled!”
As the big old sedan eased away from the curb, Alfonso called out, “Buckled in good!”
“He shouldn’t be in the front seat!”
“I’ll be careful! Have our ice cream ready!”
Boys.
Boone kept enough of his wits about him to know how important it was to stay on the good side of the EMTs. Haeley’s life was in their hands.
“We need to tend to the victim,” the man told him when Boone tried to pass along Dr. Sarangan’s number. “I can’t really talk to a doctor until we’ve got her on board.”
“Let me put him on speaker then,” Boone said, dialing.
As the doctor tried to walk them through the best procedure for keeping Haeley alive in transit, both EMTs kept saying, “Yes, sir; yes, doctor, we know; we know. Let us work.”
“I have full confidence in you,” Sarangan said. “I’ll meet you at Sinai.”
Boone found himself hovering, staring, straining to see any sign of life. Haeley looked ghastly. She had gone from pale to nearly translucent, and her lips were bluing. Her unseeing eyes never moved; she never blinked.
Boone also watched for the responses of the EMTs as they grimly squatted beside her, the man checking her vitals while the woman traded out the blood-logged towels for sterile pads. Both seemed to be trying to appear merely focused, but Boone could tell they were as sobered and shaken as everyone else. He saw them catch each other’s eyes, and he could tell they were not optimistic.
“You may not want to watch this, sir,” the woman said, as the other EMT brought a neck brace from the ambulance. “It will look strange.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Jack said. “He’s a cop.”
But the young woman was right. It did look weird for them to gingerly stabilize Haeley’s head while painstakingly applying the brace to keep her neck straight. The man took her long dark hair, now black and caked with blood, and held it free of the brace. He had to then change out even the latest supply of sterile pads collecting the blood.
“Hurry, please,” Boone said, trying to mask his dread.
“We need to get her to the ER fast,” the man said. “But we must not move her in any way that could make things worse.”
He jogged to the ambulance for the wood board and straps that would convey her to the gurney inside the vehicle. Readying her for transfer to the board seemed to take forever, but finally they seemed satisfied. “We’ll need some help,” the man said. “We’ll handle her from the shoulders up, but could you and you”—he pointed at Boone and Jack—“keep her legs absolutely in line with her body as we move her.”
The woman EMT cradled Haeley’s devastated head, gloved hands dripping, while the other worked his arm all the way under her shoulders. They directed Boone and Jack to each support her with one hand on her lower back and the other just below the knee. On a three count they moved her from the concrete to the board.
“Now please give us room.”
With one EMT at each end of the board, they lifted her to waist level and smoothly moved her through the back gate to the boxy truck, its back doors yawning. They slid the board directly onto a fixed gurney, and then the man climbed out, peeling off his gloves. He reached
Florence was within fifty feet of them now. She hated to interrupt their fun, but it was time for at least Max and her to get inside and cool off with some ice cream. Maybe a Ranger could keep running around in this heat, but not them.
Then she heard the car start. “Hey!” she hollered. “No time for joy ridin’! Let’s go!”
“I’ll just run him around the block!” Alfonso said. “Be right back!”
“Make sure he’s buckled!”
As the big old sedan eased away from the curb, Alfonso called out, “Buckled in good!”
“He shouldn’t be in the front seat!”
“I’ll be careful! Have our ice cream ready!”
Boys.
Boone kept enough of his wits about him to know how important it was to stay on the good side of the EMTs. Haeley’s life was in their hands.
“We need to tend to the victim,” the man told him when Boone tried to pass along Dr. Sarangan’s number. “I can’t really talk to a doctor until we’ve got her on board.”
“Let me put him on speaker then,” Boone said, dialing.
As the doctor tried to walk them through the best procedure for keeping Haeley alive in transit, both EMTs kept saying, “Yes, sir; yes, doctor, we know; we know. Let us work.”
“I have full confidence in you,” Sarangan said. “I’ll meet you at Sinai.”
Boone found himself hovering, staring, straining to see any sign of life. Haeley looked ghastly. She had gone from pale to nearly translucent, and her lips were bluing. Her unseeing eyes never moved; she never blinked.
Boone also watched for the responses of the EMTs as they grimly squatted beside her, the man checking her vitals while the woman traded out the blood-logged towels for sterile pads. Both seemed to be trying to appear merely focused, but Boone could tell they were as sobered and shaken as everyone else. He saw them catch each other’s eyes, and he could tell they were not optimistic.
“You may not want to watch this, sir,” the woman said, as the other EMT brought a neck brace from the ambulance. “It will look strange.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Jack said. “He’s a cop.”
But the young woman was right. It did look weird for them to gingerly stabilize Haeley’s head while painstakingly applying the brace to keep her neck straight. The man took her long dark hair, now black and caked with blood, and held it free of the brace. He had to then change out even the latest supply of sterile pads collecting the blood.
“Hurry, please,” Boone said, trying to mask his dread.
“We need to get her to the ER fast,” the man said. “But we must not move her in any way that could make things worse.”
He jogged to the ambulance for the wood board and straps that would convey her to the gurney inside the vehicle. Readying her for transfer to the board seemed to take forever, but finally they seemed satisfied. “We’ll need some help,” the man said. “We’ll handle her from the shoulders up, but could you and you”—he pointed at Boone and Jack—“keep her legs absolutely in line with her body as we move her.”
The woman EMT cradled Haeley’s devastated head, gloved hands dripping, while the other worked his arm all the way under her shoulders. They directed Boone and Jack to each support her with one hand on her lower back and the other just below the knee. On a three count they moved her from the concrete to the board.
“Now please give us room.”
With one EMT at each end of the board, they lifted her to waist level and smoothly moved her through the back gate to the boxy truck, its back doors yawning. They slid the board directly onto a fixed gurney, and then the man climbed out, peeling off his gloves. He reached
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