Chapter 55

The muted wail of the siren accompanied them as Fred did compressions and the paramedic talked to the doctor on the phone. As the paramedic hung up, "Stop compressions and let's check her."

Fred sat back and waited. After a moment, "We've got a pulse again, but who knows how long it will last this time." This had been the second cycle of her heart stopping, then restarting after compressions since they had left the scene of the accident a short while ago.

Toby, the paramedic, now that he had caught up on his medications, cleaned and bandaged several small cuts to the woman's arms and hands, then cleaned as much of her face as he could get to, but with her intubated, that wasn't much. The monitor continued to show an erratic heartbeat, but at least her heart was trying.

"Think she's going to make it?" Fred asked.

Toby looked at him. "We're not supposed to..."

"I'm a retired cop," Fred interrupted, "and before you start thinking I'm not old enough to retire, I'm a lot older than you think I am. I'm not going to run my mouth and spout off about anything you say. Now, what do you think about her chances?"

Toby sighed, "I think there's a good possibility she's been too long without oxygen to her brain. How long do you think it was until you got to her?"

Fred tried to stretch out his legs, but in the cramped space, it was almost impossible. "I've gone over and over that in my mind. Best I can figure is about four, maybe five minutes at the outside before I began breathing for her and Jessica started compressions."

"That's easily within a full-recovery time frame," the paramedic said, "but ... how long was she not breathing before that, and ... what stopped her heart to start with? Was it the wreck? But if it was an overdose, which I strongly suspect, then whatever she took might have truly ended her life, no matter how diligent you people were, or what I managed to do for her. CPR doesn't fix what's wrong, just maintains life until a doctor can, maybe ... take care of the problem. So the answer is: no way to tell yet. Nothing we can do except keep her body going until we get to the hospital, then leave it up to the ER doctor and the other personnel there. They have the equipment to find out what's going on."

Fred looked down at the young woman lying on the gurney. She appeared thin — frail. She was obviously braless under the too-tight stretch top and the skin-tight blue jeans, her long, possibly, dark red hair matted and caked in mud. The color was hard to tell under the circumstances.

"Yeah, about what I thought," Fred replied. "And it's a shame, too. Even with her hair screwed up like that and the muck on her, it's still obvious that she's a pretty girl."

"Got that right," Toby said. "Unfortunately, I've seen a lot of good-looking women hanging around dope houses. Most of them will do anything for another hit. Once they get on crack or some of the other hard stuff, they usually don't last long. AIDS, hepatitis, overdose, or something else usually kills them within a year or two."

"Yeah, I've seen it as well," Fred sighed. "They all think they can try a hit one time and then leave it alone. They're all wrong. They lose their jobs, homes, husbands, families ... everything. Eventually, their lives." There was silence from the two for a moment as they stared at the young woman, then, "Sorry to be dripping all over your ambulance."

Toby chuckled, finally having time to really look at the big man across from him. His pants, from the knees down, were caked in the black, evil-smelling mud of the swamp. His hair was sweat-soaked, and his shirt, wet as the rest of him, was torn down one side. The paramedic looked closer, then said, "Looks like something put a pretty good scratch down your side. We need to clean that up."

"Later," Fred said. "I'll have Carla take care of it. I got tangled in a bush just as we were coming off that bank with her."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm too frigin' wet to worry with it right now."

"Well, okay. Suit yourself, but I'll be glad to take care of it for you if you change your mind. Oh, and about the dripping; we're all dripping. Although, it does look like you have a good bit more mud on you than I do. And, trust me, I know how tiring CPR can be. Most people at an accident scene, either do nothing, go into hysterics, or do something stupid."

"Yeah, the women did a fine job," Fred agreed.

"And you?" the paramedic questioned.

"Wasn't my first rodeo," Fred chuckled. "Remember, I'm a retired cop. And speaking of that, with the way we look, I'll bet those nurses don't even offer us a cup of coffee when we get to the ER." He had made the remark as a joke, but was more than halfway serious.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Toby replied. "Muddy and wet, we still smell better than I did a couple of months ago when I brought a patient in, though. This farmer fell through the loft of his barn and landed in a cattle stall that needed mucking out really bad. He had a broken arm and leg, not to say anything about a severe concussion. By the time we had him stabilized and on the board, we were all covered in piss and cow shit. Then just as we started to take him out of the stall, my right foot went out from under me on the slick concrete. Screwed up my knee."

"How did you get him out of there if you were hurt, too?"

"Guy's brother got there about that time and took my end of the board. I hobbled to the rig and managed to take care of my patient on the way to the hospital. One of the security guards helped us get him out of the ambulance and into the hospital, but by then I couldn't even stand up. They brought out a wheelchair for me, and put me in a room next to my patient. That charge nurse was not pleased at us smelling up her ER, but other than grousing at me, she gave me excellent care. The nurses and doctors have been kidding me mercilessly ever since I've been back to work."

"How long were you off?"

"A month. I got by without an operation, but the therapy was a bitch. And ... my insurance paid only about seventy-five percent of the therapy costs. The hospital is supposed to make up the difference, but they haven't yet. Workmen's comp also screwed me out of some money," He broke off as he watched the monitor. "Crap, looks like she's bradying down again." (Heart rate slowing drastically.)

"I'll do it," Fred said as he readied himself for the compressions.

Fred watched the paramedic and the EMT hurriedly push the gurney through the emergency room doors before he turned toward the waiting room entrance. "Fred, we need to be with her," Brenda said in his mind.

Baby, it's not like when I was a cop. They won't let me go in there right now.

"They will if you tell them you're her brother. They'll let family see her as soon as they get her stable."

Baby, I seriously doubt they'll be able to get her stable. You heard what the paramedic said, Fred thought back to his dead wife.

"Fred, don't back down on this. I want you with her. You have to be there."

Baby, why do you say that? I can't do anything for her now.

"I ... don't know. I just know you have to be with her," Brenda insisted.

Inside, he found a seat in a corner of the waiting room and settled in, an impatient Brenda figuratively pacing in his mind. A few minutes later, a heavyset nurse about sixty, wearing a white uniform, walked into the room. Looking around, she spotted Fred and quickly walked over. He stood.

"Mr. Wilson, I presume, since you're the only one muddy and wet."

"Yeah," Fred said, "you got me."

"I think that swamp is the one that got you," she teased. "Anyway, I'm Cynthia Ellis, the charge nurse for the ER." She suddenly leaned forward a little and looked at his side. "We need to see to that. All that filth isn't good for that scratch. Might make something a lot more serious out of it if you don't get it taken care of."

"I'll get Carla to take care of it when she gets here," Fred said. He wasn't about to go into the ER for a scratch.

Ellis, apparently satisfied, went on, "Our paramedic says you're a retired cop, plus you saved Ms. Gordon's life, not to say anything about assisting Toby on the way here." When Fred hesitated for a second, she continued, "Oh, the deputy who worked the wreck called her name in to us from her driver's license."

"Well, I don't know about saving her life. If we did save her life, it was because of all our efforts, not just mine."

"Yeah, that's about what Toby said. Anyway, we'll get you cleaned up and into some fresh scrubs until your family gets here. If you will follow me, please," she finished, turning to walk out of the waiting room.

Shortly, they turned into a hallway and Fred put a hand lightly on Ellis' shoulder to halt her. "Uh, Ma'am, I need to talk to you." When Ellis stopped and turned to him, he looked her in the eye and said, "I can't give you the full reason right now, but I need to stay close to Ms. Gordon. How about you listing me as a relative: her brother?"

"Mr. Wilson, ever hear of HIPPA? Short and sweet is that I can't tell you a thing about the patient or let you stay with her without violating a law that has become quite popular for the feds to enforce ... I'm not risking my license this close to retirement."

"List me as her brother, then. I'm telling you I'm her brother. I'll sign anything you want me to."

"Look, Mr. Wilson, you told the cop and our paramedic that you were traveling and she passed you and wrecked. That you didn't know her..."

"Fred, don't you back down on this," Brenda said again in his mind. "You do whatever you have to, to stay with her."

"What say I sign your paperwork as the responsible party — her brother? If I'm paying for it, surely you can cut me a little slack."

"You're not her..."

"Let's get real here for a minute," Fred interrupted, his voice taking on a change the nurse had never quite heard before. "How many dope addicts do you know with insurance? The hospital is going to eat her costs, and I'm volunteering as her brother to assume them. Now, I surely appreciate your being so nice to me, and I don't want to make you mad at me, but I really need to stay with her as much as I can. I'd be willing to bet that your little hospital is struggling to make ends meet with the way our economy is right now. So why don't we strike us a deal? Scratch my back a little, and I'll scratch yours — within reason. I'm going to want an itemized bill when this is done. I'm far from being rich, but I can pay the hospital bill if you don't stick it to me too much. I'll pay insurance rates. Tell billing to not try to soak me with anything else."

They stood staring at each other. After a moment, "We need to get you cleaned up; after that, some paperwork. By then, we should know more about your sister's prognosis. I'll talk to billing; I can't guarantee anything."

"Just remember, it's a deal breaker, it's insurance rates for everything, or I pay nothing."

"I understand. I'll do what I can."

Jessica and Audrey had very quickly rinsed off in the RV shower while the deputy took several more pictures then got back into his car to write up his paperwork. Dressed, they joined Carla and waited. A little later, the deputy blipped his siren, and Carla tapped her horn in response. After all the excitement of the last minutes, the trip in to the hospital was boring and seemed longer than it was. When they finally saw the hospital a couple of blocks in front of them, Carla began to worry about a place to park. The facility was on the main road through town, but there were "No Parking" signs and yellow curbs for a block or so around the hospital. The front parking lot would never take the big RV and its tow.

The deputy slid his window down and put his arm out, motioning them to stop behind him. He stood partially up and yelled back to them to follow him to a parking place.

"He had better realize I can't back this thing up," Carla muttered as they turned right on the next street past the hospital. Following the patrol car to a back parking lot, Carla breathed a sigh of relief as the deputy turned in. When he motioned to an area, she pulled over and came to a halt. There were only a few larger vehicles back here, and the way the lot was situated, she could drive out the other side without having to even turn around. Downside: the hospital was more than a block away.

She pressed the button to open the door as the deputy got out of his car and approached. Jessica held a coke out to him as he stepped in.

"Thank you, Ma'am. That will go really good right now." He stopped to open the bottle, take a long drink and glance around at his surroundings. Then, "Wow. This place is great," he said, as he took in the luxury of the Tourmaster.

I wonder what their relationship is? he thought as he told Jessica thanks for the coke, striving manfully to keep his eyes away from her breasts. Whatever their relationship is with the guy that left in the ambulance with Toby, he's a lucky man.

"That's the back door to the hospital over there," he said, pointing through the front window. "It's mostly used by the employees, but we're pretty laid back around here. If anyone says anything to you, just tell them you had to park in the back lot because you're in an RV. I have to check with the ER doctor about the lady, anyway, so if you're ready, we can all go together. The place is confusing going in the back, since the ER is on the other side of the building, but there are signs you can follow."