Saving the Dead (8 page)

“Oof!” grunted Roger.

With the speed that came from years of practice, the two partners flowed together to subdue the belligerent man.  Drifts held down Roger’s arms and pinned down his chest with one knee as Ramirez tied his flailing wrist with the roll of gauze.  Justin moved to restrain his knees.

The blonde man looked horrified.  “You’re tying him down?”

“Yes.” Ramirez answered flatly.

He’s a human being for God’s sake!  You can’t treat him like that!” the blonde man shouted indignantly.

His friend began to quietly distance himself from the situation.

“Get the fuck off of me!” shouted Roger.

“This isn’t right!  You shouldn’t do this!”

Drifts pulled the seatbelt taut over the drunk man’s legs. “He’s falling down drunk, belligerent and bleeding.  What would you suggest . . . sir? Leave him in the forest to die?”

The blonde man squared his shoulders. “You can try speaking kindly to him!  He’s a person, after all.”

Now that their patient was secured Drifts gave the other man the full weight of his stare. “Well ‘sir’, we tried our pleases and thank yous, and gosh darn it to heck, wouldn’t you know it, those didn’t work.”

The bystander stood up indignantly. “I don’t appreciate your tone!”

“And I don’t appreciate you telling me how to do my job!” Drifts countered.

“What is wrong with you people?” demanded the blonde man.

Drifts arched an eyebrow. “You people?”

“You ambulance drivers are supposed to care!  Not bully the downtrodden.  You shouldn’t treat this man so cruelly because he’s . . . he’s down on his luck.  If you treated him with kindness and respect, he would respond with the same attitude.”

Below them, Roger began to scream incoherently.

Drifts squared his shoulders. “Now look!”  He stopped what was bound to be an eloquent and colorful response as Ramirez placed a hand on his shoulder. 

The older medic stepped between them. “Sam, if this gentleman thinks that he can help calm Roger down, we should let him try.”  He looked at the blonde man. “Would you like to try and speak to him sir?”

“Really?” said the bystander.

“Really?” said Drifts.

Ramirez waved him forward. “Be my guest.”

“Um, okay,” said the blonde man.  He stepped up and knelt by Roger.  He placed his hand on Roger’s arm in what he no doubt thought was a therapeutic touch.

Roger thought differently and tried to jerk his arm free. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

The man yanked his hand back. “It’s okay.  It’s okay,” he said in a tone he obviously believed was soothing.

Behind him, Drifts made a gagging expression.

Oblivious, the bystander continued, “My name is Tony.  I’m a friend.  I want to help you.  These men are ambulance drivers.”

Drifts’s expression sobered with a clenched jaw, and Ramirez smirked.  Justin noticed the exchange and looked at the older medic questioningly.

Ramirez murmured into his ear, “Sam hates being called an ambulance driver.”

Justin nodded then asked in an equally low tone, “Why?”

“You should ask him later.”

Tony frowned at their quiet exchange but, he pressed on. “They want to help you.  You’re badly injured and need stitches.  That’s why they want to take you to the hospital.”  He looked at the EMS personnel smugly. “There if you treat someone with respect they will respond in kind.”

Roger focused on him. “I remember you.”

He smiled down at him. “Yes, I’m Tony.”

“Yeah!  It is you!  You were laying bent over on the table I was going to sleep on.”

“What?” Tony’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah!  That other man,” he said pointing at Tony’s friend who was now standing back by the minivan. “He was fucking you up the asshole!  You were moaning like a bitch!”

Tony stammered, “Sir . . . I”

Roger tried to jerk himself away. “Get away from me, you motherfucking faggot!”

Tony switched his gaze from Roger to his companion, then to Ramirez, to Justin, and finally to Drifts who was trying unsuccessfully to restrain himself from laughing.

“I said get away from me, you fucking queer!” shouted Roger as he spat directly in Tony’s face. 

The bystander recoiled in revulsion. “He just spat on me!”

“Hmm, imagine that,” said Drifts.

Tony clenched his fists. “That piece of shit spat on me!”

Ramirez stepped back between him and his offending patient. “Justin?”

“Yes?”

“Roger here looks like he’s having a hard time breathing.  Could you put an oxygen mask on his face?”

“On it!” said the student.

Still chuckling, Drifts said, “Here kid, I’ll help you with that.”

They grabbed an oxygen mask out of a pouch in the back of the stretcher’s headrest and quickly put it on the thrashing man’s face.

“No!  Get this fucking shit off of me!” Roger screamed.

Ramirez fished a piece of gauze out of another pouch of the medical bag and handed it to Tony asking, “Is there anything else you’d like to say, or can we take care of our patient?”

Tony lowered his eyes. “No.”

Ramirez nodded. “Thank you for help.  You and your friend have a good night.”

With that, he turned his back on the other man and proceeded to load their patient into Triple-Three.

Drifts hopped into the cab. “That guy was a fucking asshole.”

Ramirez grunted.

“Where too, partner?” Drifts asked.

Ramirez shrugged with a smile, “You tell me.  You’re the ambulance driver.”

Drifts glared at him through the rearview mirror. “Hardy fucking har har!”

Chapter Four

A Light in the Darkness

“Not him again!”

“Come on, Gloria!  We both know how much you missed Roger here.”

Gloria, a full-figured nurse switched her gaze between Roger and Drifts.  It was hard to figure out which she found more deplorable.

“Hey, Gloria, how’s the night been?” asked Ramirez.

Her face brightened considerably as she looked at the paramedic. “Hey Leo!  Whew, I tell you it has been a doozy.  With the gang war going on we’ve been running a knife and club special.  We’ve already had five shootings, two stabbings and a lady with her face beaten with a hammer.”

“Any salvageable?”

“Two of the shootings and one of the stabbings were pretty superficial, but the second stabbing nicked the femoral artery.  He was starting to turn as the medics brought him in.  The thing damn near bit one of our new grads.  We had to put a drill into one of traumas when they coded.  The other two are in the ICU and OR.  I wouldn’t place strong odds on either’s outcome.  Did you guys deal with any of these rampant shootings?” she asked.

“No!” Drifts shook his head, “We did have a cardiac arrest that turned and bit her crazy knife-wielding daughter.”

Gloria’s eyes went wide. “That was you?  I heard the zombie bit her whole family before you guys had put her down.”

Ramirez shook his head. “Just the one daughter and the one zombie mother.”

Gloria smiled as shook her head. “So what’s Roger been up to today?”

“We don’t know specifically,” said Ramirez. “We found him in the woods pretty intoxicated.  He has two lacerations and has been pretty feisty with us.”

Gloria pointed at the oxygen mask. “What’s with that?  Is he having trouble breathing?”

Ramirez shook his head. “No, it’s just a precaution.  He spat on a bystander.”

“Well that’s no bueno.”  She leaned closer. “Hey!  Mr. Greenwood, if these gentlemen untie you, do you think you can cooperate and scooch over onto this bed right here?”

Roger spat, and his sputum stuck to the oxygen mask’s plastic shield. “Fuck you, cunt!”

“Hey!” Ramirez shouted at him.  Drifts snarled, “You mother-”

Gloria waved them to silence and turned to smile at Roger.  It wasn’t a very friendly smile. “Mr. Greenwood, that wasn’t very friendly.  Now listen to me, pumpkin.  Your night can go one of two ways.  You can cooperate with us and I will get you a warm blanket and a turkey sandwich for your kind behavior.  Or . . .” her tone changed ever so slightly, “you could be a dick, and we will revisit the merits of a Foley catheter.  Is that understood?”

Roger’s bleary eyes bulged as he processed what she had said.  He slowly nodded.

Gloria smiled at the crew. “Go ahead and cut him free, boys.  I think Roger and I have reached an understanding.”

Drifts looked at her in awe. “I think you might have just become my hero.”

“Why did he get so afraid?” Justin asked, breaking his silence after staying out of the way like a good little ride-along.

Ramirez glanced up from his report. “What do you mean?”

Justin was looking at him in earnest. “Mr. Greenwood.  He looked afraid there for a moment in the woods.  Right after you mentioned . . .”

Ramirez nodded. “The hot-drill.” 

“Yeah, that.  Why did he get so scared?” asked Justin.

“Roger has been on the streets a long time.  He was there back after the outbreak when we started to do 911 calls again.  I’m sorry to say that he has reason to be afraid.”

“He does?” Justin’s eyes went wide. “Why?”

“People were more dangerous then, and less compassionate.  As a general rule we medics were not much different.  Many of us chose this field because our previous experience in the outbreak made us better at battlefield dressing.  Some because they were great scouters and could think on their feet.  But compassion?  That didn’t always translate so well.

“You saw how that man Tony reacted when Roger spat on him.  He was just a typical guy justifiably ready to beat up Roger, who generally probably deserved it.  Take that the next step, and you have guys with a survival mindset who are charged with aiding someone like Roger.”  He shook his head.  “It did not go over so well.  In the beginning days, it wasn’t unheard of for a frequent flyer who was in perfect health one night to be hot-drilled the next call because they had ‘turned.’”

Justin’s eyes went wide. “They did?”

“Yeah, and somewhere along the way, I think it became almost common practice for some medics.  This methodology almost caused another outbreak, because people were afraid to call us.  It was not among our brightest moments.”

“Did you . . .”

“Have anything to do with it. No.  I was one of the few people who had done the job before the outbreak. I knew what I was getting myself into.  I came back to this field because I wanted to help, not to kill the ones I didn’t think were worth it.”  He shook his head. “I stopped a partner trying it once. He wanted to hot-drill this one piece of work who was belligerent and high as a kite.

“I brought the medic up on charges, but they were dismissed for lack of evidence.  It was my word against his.  Deep down, I don’t think anyone wanted to admit that this was going on. In the end, the guy who tried to use the drill was murdered on a call.  Witness said he was trying to hot-drill a drunk man when his wife shot him.  It was a wakeup call everyone needed.  It wasn’t long after that the company started weeding out the ones who used their hot-drills a little too frequently.”

“Whoa.”

“Things are better now.  We have to provide more evidence on why we have used our hot-drill.   This helps us to discourage medics who get a little too enthusiastic with their hot-drill.” said Ramirez.

“Wow.  I had no idea.”

Ramirez shrugged. “Very few do.”

The driver-side door opened and Drifts jumped in. “All right, bitches lets go find a post and maybe get some grub.  I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting fucking hungry!”

“I thought you packed your lunch?” Ramirez asked.

“Oh I did.  My lunchbox had leftovers from this Italian place I went to last night and several snacks.”

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Ramirez.

“Nothing whatsoever, except for the small fact I left it at home on my kitchen counter,” Drifts.

Ramirez said, “That might put a damper on things.”

“You think?”

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something.” Justin said.

“Uh oh.” Drifts smirked. “What knowledge can I impart to you, my young lad?  Do you need to know where babies come from? Because my birds and bees talk is probably more X-rated than your pa would have given you.”