Chapter 1: The beginning of the end

“Ring!!!!!”

The alarm buzzed incessantly, vibrations reverberating across the soft wood, beating its tattoo into Adam’s skull.

Adam opened his eyes, then closed them again, exhausted.

It was 4am. And his day would start before the world even blinked. He put on his blue uniform, labelled ‘Paramedic’ in bright red on his front, and made two coffees before leaving his apartment. Adam got on his bike and began cycling to Malabar Hospital.

The world seemed oddly quiet – but then again his only companions at 4am were usually truckers carrying the lifeblood of the nation, or insane Energiser bunnies bopping up and down the sidewalk. He liked it though – the world was truly his starry oyster in the dark – well the almost-dark subject to the wilful glare of streetlights.

15 minutes later, he arrived.

4:30am.

Adam waved to the emergency nurses as he walked into the A&E. He was a favourite with the gals in blue - dark haired and serious, but with a smile that lit up the room. He only had eyes for one girl though – Emily.

He grinned at her and a cup of coffee appeared in his hand.

‘Thirsty?’

Emily smirked. ‘Don’t you know it. It’s been a busy night – we’ve had 5 Cat 1’s, and 2 resus’ going on in the bay right now. We’re getting a few more calls as we speak. But yes – I am thirsty... ‘

Emily was a slim brunette who packed a punch – both literally and figuratively. She was a single mother who had struggled for a long time when she got pregnant as a teenager, but managed to go to nursing school and now was a formidable force to be reckoned with in the A&E. 5’4, with curves that twined all the way up wide hips, a small waist and a killer bosom, Emily’s eyes always seemed to glisten with mirth – Adam could never tell if she was laughing at him, or with him. He didn’t mind though.

‘In that case - how about a drink tonight once I get off my shift? I have the day off tomorrow so I won’t need to sleep early.’

Emily smiled sweetly, baring her fangs. ‘I’d love to – Jessica will be out with her friends tonight so I’ll be all alone. I’ll be glad to have something

.’

Adam blushed, much to his chagrin.

‘It’s a deal.’

And his day began.

His first call was an old grandmother who had fallen whilst cooking dinner, resulting in a long lie with rhabdomyolysis, probably a broken hip and in shock. She’d only been discovered when the cleaner had come in the morning. A relatively easy job – fluids, back to hospital.

7am.

The next call was for an old man who was spiking a fever and was unresponsive to his family. Known history of emphysema and recurrent exacerbations – likely worsening infection. But these days, with COVID-19 – these patients were much harder to transport – geared up in full PPE, gown, mask, goggles. Space invaders indeed.

Jacob, his burly partner, drove, whilst Adam navigated. The radio was crackling with some Dua Lipa contrasted by the flashing blue-red sirens. Adam couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. He knew a great place to take Emily – perfect mojitos, and great jazz.

‘Mate – focus on the road! Where am I going next!’

‘Sorry – take a right in 2km! We can go down the middle of the highway for this one – it’ll be faster.’

Swerving around, the ambulance finally made it to their destination. They got out of the ambulance and suited up with PPE. The house was old and run down, red brick giving way to moss giving way to the encroaching lawn. Wild indeed.

They knocked on the door. No response. That was weird. You don’t call an ambulance and then disappear. Not unless you’re unconscious.

‘Mr Jones! Mrs Jones! Are you in there?’

Still no response. Adam looked at Jacob, nodded, and brought out the ‘battering ram’ designed exactly for these circumstances.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

The lock gave way, and the door swung open in tatters. It was dark and musty inside. And ... a faint smell of something else. Something not quite right.

They strode in, flicking on their headlights. It was sweaty work in their blue gowns.

‘We’re the paramedics! Here to help – let us know where you are!’

Still nothing.

Adam turned the corner into the living room, filtering dusty light through the curtains, with a red tint. Blood. He looked down and gasped.

‘Fuck.’

What he presumed was Mr Smith was lying on the carpet, his head bashed in, eyes pearly white like they were glossed over with cataracts, teeth stained with nicotine and ... blood? No carotid pulse, signs of breathing. Was this a hitjob? Blood was leaking from his head, oozing coagulated-like; slow; steady. He had been dead for awhile.

‘Jacob – we need to call the police.’

‘Jacob?’

Adam suddenly felt on high alert. What if the killer was still here?

‘Adam! Over here! In the bedroom!’

Adam headed towards Jacob’s voice, to find an old woman clutching a signed baseball bat. She was splattered with blood, lying on the floor.

‘She’s burning up – I think she’s got a fever. Maybe delirious. Airway intact, resp rate a bit up, tachycardic. Unresponsive – pupils are fixed and dilated. We need to move her now.’