Page 24 of No Take Backs

Gem is waiting for me in the hall, wearing a knowing smile.

"Don't." I hold up a hand, stopping her before she can add any fuel to my embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah.” She walks away. "We're gonna get along great. I knew it as soon as I saw you."

She shows me where our bunkroom is, no bigger than the size of my bedroom at home, and I drop my bag on the unoccupied bed. "Thanks."

“Be ready to hit the ground running.” Gem taps the doorframe. "We've been ridiculously busy lately. Gotta be the full moon."

I nod, not bothering to do anything with my stuff.

I follow her back out and into the common area, where the guys are already sitting, but we don't stop there. Instead, Gem leads me through the firehouse and onto the deck.

"This is our rig." She motions to the only ambulance in the bay. "Shift change every twenty-four hours, and we have to make sure to do med-check and equipment before we hand it over."

Again, I nod but don't interrupt her. During my clinical hours, I learned everything she is telling me. But more than that, I learned that there's no such thing as going over things too often.

"I'm sure you've done this already. Hell, by the time I got my paramedic certs, I could do it blindfolded." Gem laughs before opening the back doors. "I don't care how things are organized, as long as I can get what I need easily and without complaint. I will say that I absolutely hate being in the back of the rig. I get carsick. But I'll do it if I have to. Do you have a problem with me driving?"

"No." I shake my head. "I'm the youngest of four kids. I never got a chance to ride shotgun. I don't get carsick, thankfully."

"Good."

Right as she shuts the doors, the alarm starts blaring.

"Attention Birch EMS. Please respond to 617 Maple Street for reports of an unknown person down. I repeat…" The dispatcher’s voice crackles through the speakers, but before the message can finish, we’re already moving. There’s a sense of urgency in the air, a palpable shift in energy as Gem leaps into the driver’s seat with practiced ease. I follow suit, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling up in record time. My mind is racing, running through all the possible scenarios we might encounter, but I push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"Told you," Gem says with a smile. "I hope you're an adrenaline junkie too."

I click the mic, not bothering to answer her over the raging of my blood through my veins. "Birch EMS responding."

As we race out of the bay and through downtown Birch, my heart continues to beat unsteadily against my ribs. Gem turns onto Maple less than three minutes later, and I start counting the houses and staring at the mailboxes.

"There it is." I point to a large white house.

She's barely thrown the ambulance into park before we have the doors open and our gear dragged out of the back.

On the front lawn stands a little boy, no older than ten or so, with a phone pressed to his ear.

"My mom won't get up." He coughs loudly. "And the candles we were using caught the curtains on fire." He coughs again, and my mind goes blank.

"What?" Gem takes control. "Did you say there's a fire inside, too?"

He nods, and she grabs the mic on her shoulder to get more help. Unsure of what I should be doing, I stare at the open front door of the house and wait to be told. If there is a fire inside, protocol is well-defined. We can't go in until the scene is clear. There isn't any smoke. Not yet at least. But the house we stand in front of is old, at least thirty if not forty years old. It isn't going to last long.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" The words catch in my throat, but I force them out. "Besides your mom. Where is your mom?"

"She's with my sister, in the bathroom."

As he speaks, the fire we haven't seen before flares to life.

"Shit." Gem groans loudly. "We can't go inside."

The boy starts crying, trying to get away from Gem, and that's when I realize she isn't talking to me. She is talking to the little boy.

"Don't worry," she goes on. "The firefighters are going to be here in just a minute. You can already hear them, can't you?"

"My sister," he cries. "My little sister. She’s only three."

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