Misty came to sit with her and I walked over to Cal, peeled off my exam gloves and threw them in the trash. Then I put my hands on my hips and looked up. Cal was very large indeed. My eyes came to about his mid-chest level and I stared up at him and stomped my foot. "Your turn now," I said, poking my finger into his chest. "Let's get you cleaned up. No arguments."
Cal's face melted into a sheepish grin and he shook his head. Then he straightened and saluted me. "Whatever you say, Major."
I hooked my arm through his and led him into the adjacent examination room. "It's Captain, and I'm retired, smartass."
Cal popped up on the gurney and I went to the sink to scrub my hands again. "Where did you find her this time?"
Cal sighed. "She got as far as the park at the end of her street. Scared a couple of teenagers making out under the slide and they called 911."
"Good thing," I said. I gripped Cal's chin with my fingers and tilted his head so I could get a better look. "Does that hurt?"
He had three long scratches along his left cheek. The deepest one at the center oozed fresh blood. I didn't think he'd need stitches but that one might leave a scar.
"Who's riding tonight?" he said, hissing as I tilted his head the other way.
"Dr. Endicott's here," I answered. "You're lucky. Brancheau's on vacation until next week."
Cal nodded. Dr. Brancheau treated everyone in the E.R., including EMTs like Cal, like something he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. It didn't help matters that Cal was now dating Brancheau's ex-girlfriend, one of the first-year interns. This place really was a night-time soap opera. Except there were no McDreamys. Plenty of McNastys and McWhat-Was-I-Thinkings though.
My gut clenched at the memory of my own recent bout of bad judgment. My cell phone kept vibrating in my pocket because of it. Last night, after a particularly busy shift and too much beer, I'd engaged in some very "fourth or fifth date behavior" on my second date with Chris the pharmacist. I hadn't drawn up the courage to call him back yet.
"Great." Cal hissed again. For a very large man, he was also a bit of a baby. I patted him on the stomach.
"Endicott's one bed over last I checked, I'll send him in next. I'm guessing he could probably be persuaded to just use a little glue. Bright side, chicks dig scars. Think how tough this will make you seem."
Cal rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Help me make up a better story."
"What?" I backed toward the door and spread my hands wide. "I wouldn't dream of letting everyone know you got taken down by a little old lady."
"Shhh! Have mercy on me, Olander!"
I laughed and turned on my heel. I stole a glance at the clock above the nurse's hub, something I try never to do. I worked nightside seven to sevens. It was just past midnight now. We'd been slow all evening but it was a full moon. I knew it wouldn't last.
"Endicott still down in 3?" I called over to Joleen, my roommate and partner in crime at the desk. She had a phone in her ear. She tucked a loose strand of her nut brown hair back into her ponytail holder, nodded, and pointed across the hall. Just then, the ambulance bay doors opened and two uniformed officers came in. They each had an arm around a skinny, craggily faced man who dragged his feet between them. He looked up, his eyes glassy and a stream of spittle hanging from the corner of his mouth. He wore a gray t-shirt that had probably been white at one time. There was a flash of recognition when he saw me, then his eyes went out of focus again.
One of the officers, Tom Gleason, I knew well. We'd both been working the same basic shift for the better part of five years. I also knew this particular patient well.
"Tommy Boy!" I clutched my hand to my heart with one hand as I hit the button to open the security doors to let them in. "It's not even my birthday and you bring me presents?" I grabbed a wheelchair and slid it over to them.
"Yep," Gleason said. "Fast Eddie here said he just couldn't get enough of your sweet face, Ava."
"Be still my heart." Gleason and his partner, a rookie who looked about fifteen with bright red hair and a deer-in-headlights expression, unhooked themselves from Eddie and gently plopped him into the chair.
I put on a new pair of gloves and crouched down to Eddie's eye level. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Eddie."
With a jerking motion, Eddie pulled up his chin. For a split second, he locked eyes with me, then his went out of focus yet again and his head lolled to the side. He reeked of bourbon and sweat and his skin was practically iridescent yellow.
I put a hand on Eddie's knee and peered down, trying to get him to look at me again. Eddie was in end-stage liver failure. Like Mrs. Pulaski, we'd do the best we could for him, but he'd no doubt end up back here before the month was out ... if he lived that long. We got two versions of him depending on how epic his current bender was. He was either belligerent or abusive to everyone he encountered, or like he was now, docile and barely able to stand. Docile Eddie was harder to bring around.
"Wanna go best two out of three?" A voice came from behind me.
I straightened. Gleason whistled and shook his head.
"Aren't we up to about seven out of nine?" I said, turning to Dr. Mark Endicott. He was in his mid-thirties like me, buff with a thick head of sandy hair and had a natural curve to his mouth that gave him a constant smirk. I'd been telling him for the better part of a year he ought to grow a mustache so the patients didn't think he was just being an asshole.
He had just returned from his own tour in Afghanistan with a Medevac unit. We never talked about it, he and I, but I could always tell when a patient here sparked some memory for him. He got quiet. Took extra time. Disappeared into the linen closet at the end of the hall. And he knew when I was having a rough time too. I'm the one who showed him how to pick the lock on the linen closet.
Endicott bent low and shined a light in Eddie's eyes. Misty came around and wheeled Eddie into an open exam room. We really were dead so far. The waiting room was cleared out. I usually found that an ominous sign.
"I'll take .20. That's one and a half," Endicott said as Misty pulled back the curtain.
"You doing Price is Right rules?" Gleason asked. "Maybe I should get in on this. You still play for Diet Cokes. Put me down for .10."
I shook my head. "Sucker bets, both of you," I said. "We play for caramel lattes at this level. And its .320 or I'm buying for the whole E.R."
Misty walked by laughing. "I can't believe you guys still take Ava on. She's kicked your ass so many times."
"What are you guessing?" The rookie cop finally spoke up.
"BACs, blood alcohol content," Gleason answered. "Nurse Ava here is kind of a legend at the numbers."
"Aw," I said. "You flatter me, Gleason. Venti. That's twenty ounces. Don't forget."
He shook his head as I turned. "Doc," I said. "Cal Sanders is over in Exam Two. He's got a nasty scratch on his cheek."
"Girlfriend troubles?"
I looked across the hall; from the edge of his gurney, Cal pointed his finger at me in warning. His reputation seemed to be entirely within my control.
"Uh huh," I said, raising my voice so he could hear. "Yeah. Let's just say he got attacked by a cougar. Make sure you give him a rabies shot."
Cal shook his head and smacked his forehead with his palm.
"Heads up!" Joleen shouted from the desk. She pulled the phone away from her ear again. "Wrong way driver on I-5. Took out a church van. First group is about five minutes out! At least four criticals including an amputation on the scene."
Full moon. Empty waiting room. I knew it was a bad omen.
And Joleen had it wrong. The first ambulance pulled in not two minutes after she took the call. The first patient, a twenty-year-old white male, had coded on the way over and a young EMT ran alongside the gurney trying to keep up chest compressions. The victim looked gray and as soon as I got to him, I pulled the girl off him and leapt up to straddle him. This kid was going fast and it might already be too late to do any good. The EMT was young, blonde, fresh faced and looked scared out of her mind. I had half a thought to introduce her to Gleason's new partner when the dust settled. She better get over her own deer-in-headlights look quick. I put the odds at less than fifty percent that she was going to last. As it was, she reminded me of someone. A little like seeing a ghost and for a moment, I didn't know what it was. Then it hit me.
She was me. I was this girl not so very long ago. She was cutting her teeth in the back of a rig hurtling down the interstate. I cut mine on a sand-swept battlefield near Baghdad. In spite of all the chaos, I couldn't help smiling to myself. I could think of about five army doctors who sized me up the same way when they met me. Maybe there was hope for this one too.
"Rookie!" I shouted as two nurses took the gurney with me and the victim on it at a run.
She looked up, shaking. "You did good. Go do more of it!"
Her smile faltered and she smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. I saw Endicott shake his head as I rolled by.
The kid on the gurney didn't make it. After they code, they usually don't. It's not like it is in the movies. That was the bad news. The good news was that everyone else in that church van looked like they would make it. Out of twelve people, that wasn't a bad outcome. The driver died too but somehow that seemed like justice.