Sarah Grayson, Chapter 2






Neil dragged himself up the stairs to the apartment he shared with his cousin, Mark. He opened the door and threw his bag down. He was hungry and made his way to the kitchen.

The place was quiet; he assumed that Mark was still asleep. Neil opened the refrigerator door. It was dark inside; no one had bothered to replace the light bulb. He grabbed a carton of milk, smelled it, then took a swig from the box. Yep, sour. He closed the box, put it back in the fridge, and grabbed the orange juice instead.

Neil carried the orange juice to the counter and grabbed a glass from the sink. Holding it up to the light, he saw that it was somewhat clean, so he poured his juice in it and went to the living room.

He sat on a milk crate and looked around. Framed pictures of Mark’s prized photography lined the walls. Some were truly spectacular. There were huge, blazing fires, and amazing rescues. Beyond a doubt, Mark was an artist.

One of the photographs caught his eye. Neil stood, glass in hand, and walked over to a picture in the corner. It was a photograph of a paramedic kneeling in front of a child, both covered in soot. The little boy had reached out his hand to touch the medic’s face. It was a very poignant image.

“How’d your first day go?” Mark asked, walking into the room, shirtless and toweling his hair.

“Fine. I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Nah, I have to go in at ten.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. So, who’s your preceptor?”

Neil pointed at the photograph, “Sarah Grayson.”

“You dog! No way!” Mark said, snapping the towel at his cousin.

Neil dodged, almost spilling his juice. He downed it quickly.

“Yeah. Sarah Grayson.”

“Man, she’s hot.”

“I know. I could barely think straight.”

“When are you going to ask her out?”

“Who says I’m going to ask her out?”

Mark gave him a knowing smile. “Trust me. Every guy who joins the service, the department, or the force ends up asking Sarah out. Everyone.” He fell back onto the couch. “The only problem is getting her to go with you.”

“I overheard her turn down a guy yesterday afternoon.”

“Yeah. Everyone asks her out, and every time she says no.”

“Why? Is she…”

“No. She’s not a lesbian, but several of the other single girls are. She just doesn’t date. No one knows why, though we have our suspicions.”

Neil returned to the milk crate. “Oh?”

“She lives with her brother. He’s a cop. I think he doesn’t want her to date.”

“Sarah listens to him? She sounded like she could stand up to anyone.”

“She can, but she’s fiercely loyal, too. I think she won’t do anything her brother doesn’t like. You’ll hear all kinds of rumors, though.”

“Like what?”

“Like tales of incest and things like that. I don’t believe it, but people will talk.”

“Did you ask her out?”

“Oh, yeah. First chance I got. Turned me down flat.”

Neil laughed.

“You’ll see.” Mark said, grabbing his uniform shirt and pulling it over his head. “I’ll give you a week. You’ll ask her out by then.”

Neil stood, “Why ask her out when I can spend every shift alone with her? It’s like getting a date every three days.”

“Except you’re working. Trust me—a week.”





Sarah turned her car into the driveway and parked. Getting out of the car, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and closed the car door with her hip. She walked quickly up the sidewalk to the large Victorian house and climbed the stairs to the porch. Oh, for a shower and a soft bed! A glint of metal caught her eye. Several beer cans lay on the floor under the porch swing. Sarah stopped short. All was quiet. Slowly, she walked over to the cans and gathered them up. Facing the door, she inhaled deeply, then closed her eyes and walked inside.





Neil looked forward to his next shift on Thursday. He arrived a few minutes early at the station, and he and Sarah sat down at the table in the main room to study for the map test. Sarah had laid out one large map and two map books. She would give him a location and a time of day, and he would tell her the best way to get to that place.

Sarah pointed to the cross street he had given her, “No, can’t go that way. There is a school zone there, and they would just be letting out at the end of the day.”

“But you can’t go over here,” he said, pointing to the book, “because there is a construction zone.”

“That’s right. You have to go all the way—“

Tones blared. Firefighters scrambled.

Immediately, Sarah piled all of the books up.

“Unit 3, dispatch.”

Sarah nodded to Neil. He spoke into his radio, “Three.”

“Code 3 to Plantation and Green. Signal 4. Possibly trauma alert.”

Sarah was already trotting to the ambulance.

“10-4.” Neil said and put his radio back in his belt. He hurried after Sarah.

She had the truck started and the driver’s side door open for him; she was on the passenger side.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! It’s all the way out in the county.” she called.

He swung himself into the seat and slammed the door closed, sliding the truck into gear. Sarah flipped on the lights and siren, and Neil eased the truck into traffic.

“Alright, what’s a signal 4?” she yelled over the siren.

“Car wreck.”

“Trauma alert?” she asked, as they accelerated on the highway.

“Really bad stuff.”

“You got it. Okay, pass that fire truck.”

“What do you mean, pass the fire truck?”

“I mean go around it.”

“Can I do that?”

“They’re carrying a thousand gallons of water; we aren’t.”

“Oh,” he said and shrugged, and passed the fire truck. Sarah handed him a pair of gloves that he quickly learned to put on while driving.

They soon arrived on scene, well before the fire truck. Volunteer firefighters had already arrived and redirected traffic. Sarah and Neil caught a view of the mangled car.

“Aw, man. Gotta hate that,” Sarah said. Neil slipped the ambulance in park. Sarah jumped out. “Driver assists the passenger.”

Skid marks and torn grass made it easy to see where the car had been. The car was on its top, wheels in the air. The front end was wrapped around a tree and all of the windows were broken. Sarah bent over and looked in the window. The driver was the only passenger; he was still strapped in, upside down. She stepped back, as the firefighters arrived, and let them work. The firefighters quickly began extricating the patient. They immobilized the car as best they could.

“Hey, Sarah!” called a bunker-gear clad firefighter.

“Yeah?”

“You think you could climb in there and hold c-spine and do assessment?”

“Um…” Sarah said, eyeing the passenger side window, “I think so.”

“Okay. Come here.”

“Neil!” Sarah called. He turned toward her. “I’m going in. Go ahead and call for Life Flight.”

As the firefighters started the hydraulic cutter, Sarah threw a blanket into the car through the passenger side window. It covered the broken glass and metal shards. She got down on her stomach and crawled on her elbows through the window. Inside, there was barely enough room for her to crouch on her knees.

The patient was before her, still suspended by his seat belt. His hair hung down and blood dripped from his ears, nose, and mouth. The smell filled the thick air of the car. Sarah reached out her gloved hands and grasped the man’s neck and the top of his shoulders. She quickly assessed his breathing and circulation.

“Alright! I’ve got c-spine!” she yelled. “Can I get oxygen?”

“Not right now. There’s not enough room.” she heard someone call.

The firefighters began to cut away the driver’s side door. Sarah closed her eyes and braced herself as best she could in the cramped conditions. The noise was tremendous; it rattled her entire body. The vibrations caused more blood to pour from the patient’s mouth. Sarah controlled her stomach as it oozed over her arms and shirt. Soon, the door was peeled away and the noise stopped.

“Hand me a KED!” she called. One of them handed her the extrication device.

Jeremy walked over to assist with the extrication. He leaned into the car and took over c-spine while Sarah maneuvered the stabilization device into position.

“Alright.” Sarah said. Both she and Jeremy continued to support the patient.

“Bob! Get the backboard and stretcher!” he yelled.

“And the seatbelt cutter.” Sarah reminded him.

“And the seatbelt cutter!” he yelled.

Bob arrived with the equipment. Sarah took the seatbelt knife and sliced the belt. Bob and Jeremy carefully pulled the patient onto the backboard. The beat of rotor wings could be heard as Sarah crawled out of the car. She quickly oriented herself and began working on the patient. She gave orders to the firefighters; Neil started an IV. Soon, the flight crew trotted over, took report, and wheeled the patient away.

As the helicopter lifted off, Neil looked admirably at his partner. She stood next to him and he realized that she was covered in blood and grime.

“Sarah, you’re really messed up.”

She turned to him, “What?”

“Your shirt, your pants. You’re filthy. There’s crud in your hair, too.”

Sarah looked down at her uniform sweatshirt. “Oh. I guess you’re right. I wonder what the infection control officer would say. I’ve gotta get out of this shirt, at least.”

The firefighters were cleaning up the scene and talking to the police officers. Sarah walked over to the side of the ambulance, sheltered from the street. She stripped off her sweatshirt, carefully pulling it over her head and ponytail. Sarah examined her long-sleeved white t-shirt she had worn underneath. It was wet in spots, but not nearly as dirty as the sweatshirt. She threw her sweatshirt into the back of the ambulance and slammed the door.

“You got all the stuff?” she asked Neil.

“Yeah, I already put the jump kit back. I think everything else went with the chopper.”

“Okay, let’s head back to the station. I need a shower.”





At the station, Sarah threw her sweatshirt in the washer, grabbed a new uniform from the supply cabinet, and, bag in hand, headed for the shower. She flipped on the light and closed the door, locking it tightly. She double-checked the lock. Tossing her bag on the floor, she leaned into the shower and turned on the hot water spray. It would take a while to warm up.

Sarah pulled out her ponytail holder and ran her fingers through her hair. Gingerly, she pulled her t-shirt off and dropped it. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her chest was splotched with yellow and purple marks. She ran her hand over the bruises. They didn’t hurt so much anymore. Lifting her left arm, she saw four circular bruises in a slightly curved pattern. Her wrists were encircled in purple. Sarah felt tears welling in her eyes. She took a deep breath to stop them, squared her shoulders and lifted her head high.

Steam quickly fogged the mirror.

END CHAPTER TWO

Chapter 3

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