Chapter Fourteen
Spencer
“Isee them!”
It takes everything in me not to smack my hand over Salem’s mouth. This marks our fourth week working the rig together, and as her mentor or trainer or whatever they call it nowadays, I have to say…she has mastered the art of pointing out the obvious.
A woman just a few inches taller than Mac, holding her phone in one hand and a dogless leash in the other, is waving us over. Just a few feet from her is the victim we were called in to assist.
As a professional, I will act accordingly and refrain from telling Salem that I’m not so old that I can’t see ten feet in front of me.
“Scene looks clear, let’s go in.” She unbuckles her seatbelt just as I give the order and put the bus in park, lights still flashing and bouncing off the underbelly of the bridge.
It’s a common spot for the homeless of our city and I hate that so many of them are veterans that have succumbed to living in the streets.
“Watch your step, Spence, there’s glass on the ground.” She’s right, and protocol dictates that we warn our partners about any threat that comes our way.
“Got it.” Salem runs to the back of the bus to grab the appropriate first aid while I rush to the man lying on the ground, his head at an odd angle and one arm extended out from beneath his layers of blankets.
“I found him like this. My dog ran away and I’m just…oh my God, is he dead?” Most people will never see a dead body in a raw environment like this one and I can understand the woman’s freak out. It’s a normal reaction but she needs to stay back so I can do my job.
“Sir, can you hear me?” I assess if the bearded man can hear as I slap on my gloves, then squeeze his wrist to see if he responds to touch.
No on both accounts. “Ma’am, could you step back, please?
We don’t know if there are any dangers here, like needles or more broken glass.
” As soon as I say the word needles, she scurries back, her phone gripped to her chest and eyes wide with horror. “Did you see anything or anyone?”
“N-n-no. I just walked up here looking for my dog and he was lying there.” I nod to the woman and snatch the bag my partner holds out.
“What do you see, Salem?” I’m training her, she needs to have quick reflexes.
“He looks cold and dirty. Track marks on his arms and head lolled to the side, mouth open. A small pool of vomit, foamy and pale, which means he hasn’t eaten in a while. His chest doesn’t seem to be rising and falling from my position.” Good. Her observational skills aren’t all that bad then.
“Okay, check his breathing. I’ll look for a pulse.”
Salem goes into immediate action, her fingers at the carotid artery first, then her ear at his mouth while she observes the movement of his chest. At first sight and from afar, it could seem like he’s not breathing, but when we get closer and do a thorough assessment, we get real data.
“Breathing’s shallow.” Salem runs her gloved fingers along the track marks, counting the holes and looking for new ones. We can’t know for sure why he’s like this, but our job is to get him to the hospital alive.
“Pulse is weak but it’s there,” I tell her, getting the oxygen out and placing the bag-valve mask on his face.
I run back to the rig and pull out the stretcher as Salem talks to the patient.
“You’re okay, sir. Just keep breathing.”
By the time I get back, his eyes aren’t wide open but they’re not completely closed either, just tiny slits of pupils peeking out. It’s not perfect but it’s enough for now.
Losing a patient is never good for the soul.
“Ready?” I ask.
Salem nods as she grips the end of the stretcher, and I roll our big guy to the side so we can slip the board beneath him.
I’ve been hesitant with the naloxone, and when he convulses and leans up and to the side, I’m grateful for my hesitation.
“Oh, gosh!” The look on Salem’s face when he projectile vomits all over her front would be comical if it weren’t for the fact that this man is clearly regaining his strength and becoming more and more alert, and that means he’s thirty seconds away from a freak out.
Most homeless people do not want to go to the hospital for many reasons. Mainly, they don’t want the stuff they’re leaving behind to be stolen, but also, they don’t have insurance.
Thankfully, the closest ER is public and they’ll take care of him and call the VA to see if he’s part of their community.
Cleaning him up as best I can, I strap him in and we roll him, quickly, to the bus.
“I’ll drive, you keep him alive.” Also, I don’t want her getting puke all over the front seat of the rig. It’ll smell like stomach acid for weeks.
Switching on the sirens, I give a quick glance out the side mirrors before making a U-turn and speeding my way through the light traffic and straight to the hospital.
My phone rings but I ignore it, only glancing at the screen to see it’s Mac. She’s well aware that if I don’t answer it’s because I’m driving or on a call. I’ll get back to her once we’ve dropped off our patient.
I know why she’s calling.
After yesterday’s picnic at the beach fiasco, I drove home and pretended to spend quality time with my cat.
Except all I could think about was the satisfied look on Grinder’s face, not to mention his cock out and proud.
And because the universe hates me, the sun chose that very moment to point its accusing ray on his dick, all wet from Parker’s mouth.
How do I know that tidbit of information?
This is Grinder. Of course he admitted to it when Sledge almost beat him to a pulp before trying to drown him. Parker even jumped on her brother’s back trying to save her…boyfriend? Are they a thing now?
Needless to say, the flirting will end. I don’t play with other people’s toys.
And I like Parker. She’s cool and honest. I know that in Grinder’s perfect world the three of us would be fucking, but…
ew. The only time vaginas don’t make me want to dry heave is when I’m delivering a baby.
And that’s only happened once. Clearly, I won’t be choosing gynecology as my specialty, although I’ll have to do a rotation there for a while.
By the time I went to bed, the psycho cat sleeping on the farthest end of the bed from my side, I’d made my decision. Friends. We’ll all be friends. And if they have a thing going on, good for them. It’s not like Grinder could ever commit and it’s not my job to change him.
Nope.
I’d rather be alone with my heart intact than with someone who has an expiration date.
Banging on the partition pulls me out of my thoughts.
“He’s coding! What’s our ETA?”
“Two minutes. Do everything you can, Salem, I’ll speed up!”
“Fuck!”
I can see the hospital from here but there are two lights before I can make it and if these fuckers don’t move, it’ll literally be the difference between life and death. What about lights and sirens do people not understand?
I’m rounding the curve at the entrance of the ER when Salem yells out that our patient is stable and I can breathe all over again.
I jump out of my seat and run to the back, opening both doors just as three doctors join me with their stretcher.
“Male, late forties, early fifties, found unresponsive at the scene. Shallow breathing, weak pulse. Track marks visible on his arms. Foamy, clear vomit found at the scene. Vomited again when he regained consciousness.” I pause, looking at Salem, who’s running along with me as they rush him to an ER bed. This is her part.
“He went into cardiac arrest on arrival. No pulse, no breathing, but came back with cardiac massage.” She rattles off the man’s latest vitals and as I watch her, I have a moment of pride. She was alone in the back and she did a great job. Our patient is alive and that’s all that counts.
“Thanks, guys. We’ll take it from here. Good job!” I grin down at Salem and notice she’s crying.
“Welcome to the roller coaster. You did great!” My words have the desired effect because she straightens her spine and looks up at me with a wobbly smile.
“Yeah, we got him here alive, and that’s all that matters.” She repeats my words back to me, ones I’ve said over and over since the first day she got to the station.
I guess I’m a good teacher after all.
“Damn, Holt, that paella is fucking lit!” I grin up at my colleague and firefighter, Bryson, from the station.
After Ryan—who had an unhealthy obsession with Mac and a tendency of working with criminals—was fired, Bryson put in his papers asking for this house.
Except for the Ryan drama, it’s always been in high demand.
“Thanks. The secret’s in not overloading it so the ingredients have the space to shine.” I don’t know why I’m giving him the speech but I’m fucking exhausted. After a twenty-hour shift that, thankfully, kept my mind busy the whole time, I’m too tired for a filter.
“Well, whatever it was, it worked. Thanks for sharing, man.”
My smile is real because the compliment sounds sincere. Everyone here is so used to my cooking that no one even mentions it anymore. Guess this is the advantage of having new blood at the station.
“You’re welcome.”
Bryson shakes his head and hooks his thumb over his shoulder as he backs away. “I’ll be on my way.”
I frown at the weird attitude, but I’m distracted from my confusion as Salem skips in. Actually…skips. Ah, to be young and flexible.
“I’m off to sleep, my bed has been calling my name ever since our last call.” I grin up at her as she yawns big and wide and I can feel the stretch of my lips over my teeth and yup…her yawn has gone viral.
“Rest well and I’ll see you on Wednesday.” The regular twelve-hour shift team has arrived and I’m ready to head out by the time I remember I have to call Mac back.
Fishing out my phone, I lean against my locker and close my eyes.
“It’s about lickin’ time!” Oh, good God, she needs to stop with the fake cursing. Isn’t it all about the intent?
“Gross.”
“What’s gross?”