Into the Night

{New} Ch. 4 : Examinations

Calla didn't bother to pay attention to the world around him. The ambulance drove with him in the back seat and he couldn't help but if it would crash as well. In the back of his mind he wished it did.

He stared at the phone that had died minutes prior. At first he only wanted to check the time, but then there was something overwhelmingly soothing about the blinking red dot. It warned him it was about to die. If only everyone else in his life could be so considerate.

Though that raised a myriad of questions that boggled the patient.

What if the paramedic needed to call an ambulance? If an ambulance crashed who would they call? Is there an ambulance set aside for that sole purpose or do they just call like a normal citizen to see if the other ambulance isn't busy so that they can receive aide? If so would he have to make a judgment call based on the Hippocratic oath on whether or not receive aide instead of the other accident?

He doubted that he would ever get the answers to his questions.

He doubted that he'd ever ask the questions.

"My phone died," Calla mumbled for the dozenth time.

"Uh huh," the emergency medical technician (EMT), replied while continuing to swipe through his phone.

They had almost made it to Fairfax, the people on the greyhound bus. They were maybe ten minutes away. If the driver had refueled faster, or maybe if he drove just a little faster, he'd be at his aunt's house while texting a cute guy he had met. Instead he was covered in filth and he was coming into town in the back of ambulance.

"She was supposed to pick me up at the bus station, four hours ago," he said stronger than his mumbling.

The paramedic's face perked up. He moved next to him, amidst stray water bottles and granola wrappers. Dirty shirts were crumbled and stuffed in any compartment that would fit it. Being in-between housing during a divorce can make a man creative.

"You've snapped out of it."

Out of what?

"Excuse me?"

He scooted closer to him, but his coffee-stained breath made him scoot back.

"You've been in shock for the past twelve minutes. The only thing you've been saying is your phone died," he explained. "You were saying something about a woman picking you up?"

"Yeah, my aunt. She was supposed to meet me at the bus station. I don't know Fairfax well enough to be wandering it at night."

Paramedic Joe shone a light in his eyes to check dilation. The patient thought it was to be a complete dick. Fifty-fifty chance, really. He put the flashlight away and continued the conversation as if he didn't blind the poor guy.

"What brings you to Fairfax?"

"The bus crashes and nosy paramedics," he began to snap, but stopped himself. It hit upon a nerve. One that he didn't know existed. "And I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Yes, he did. It wasn't a sudden affliction. He didn't need to be covered in mud and blood, to be cold. Charlie's phone felt hot in his hands as he broke eye contact with the EMT. His thumbs smudged the screen and sweat slid down his neck.

"Keep your apology. It's none of my business. However it would probably be a good idea to contact your aunt. It's such a small town, it's likely that I've seen her at church or something."

Of course, he thought to himself.

That makes sense.

"Her name is Lillian Rutherford. She has really long black hair, about waist length. It's usually kept loosely braided. She's about five feet three inches-"