Page 193 of Colt

I shrugged. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” I grabbed my bag and threw open my door, muttering how crazy I must be to give up this opportunity.

As I walked up the sidewalk, past the waiting cars, I went into my bag and grabbed an elastic hair tie, pulling my dark brown hair up into a messy bun, My boots were low-heeled and comfortable, allowing me to walk quickly toward the scene of the accident, which was looking more gnarly the closer I got.

There were two vehicles involved. One was a truck with the entire hood stoved in. The engine was hissing and steaming through the hood, the metal crushed like paper. The other car was a smaller red Ford, overturned from the impact of the crash. A child’s cry filled the air and my heart plummeted.

I went to the truck first, purely because it would be easier and quicker to assess the damage, and I could then get on with trying to help the occupants of the car. My heart stabbed in my chest at the sound of a siren, which I estimated was still a good couple of minutes away.

“Looks like it’s down to you, Freya,” I mumbled to myself as I approached the big, black truck, reaching up to open the door before hauling myself up to the driver’s seat and looking inside.

I estimated the driver to be in his fifties. He was starting to come around from being knocked out. The airbag had been deployed and had kept him upright in his seat with his head lolling back.

“Hey,” I murmured. “I’m Freya. I’m just gonna check your vitals. Is that okay?” My fingers pressed against the pulse on his neck, which luckily beat strong and steady, though it was slightly fast, much to be expected after a car accident.

After ascertaining the man wasn’t in immediate danger, I jumped back down to the ground and headed for the overturned car. I fell to my knees on the approach, assessing the situation.

A woman was trapped among the wreckage, unconscious. My stare swept through the car and was met with big brown eyes, as a young girl, around six- or seven-years-old peered at me, shocked, from her car seat in the back.

“Hey! I’m Freya,” I called to her as I checked the woman’s pulse. “Does it hurt anywhere, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, tears rolling down her face. “Can you help my mommy?” she cried.

“I can’t move her yet,” I explained, injecting my voice with confidence I didn’t necessarily feel. “There’s an ambulance on its way though, and the nice doctor will help her.”

“But she won’t wake up,” the girl whispered.

“Her pulse is strong, honey,” I assured her as the siren sounded again, louder this time. “Your Mom’s alive, and as long as she’s got a heartbeat, we’ve got something to work with. Can you keep talking to her while I speak to the man in the ambulance?”

She nodded her head furiously.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt anywhere?” I checked again, trying to work out how I could get into the back to check her vitals.

“My hand hurts a little, but I’m okay,” she told me as the siren sounded again and I caught blue lights flashing from the corner of my eye.

“The ambulance is here.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll go talk to them and come straight back, okay?” I got to my feet and hurried over to the paramedics who were exiting the LSV and taking stock of the situation.

“Who are you?” one of them asked me.

“I’m Freya Stone,” I relayed hurriedly. “I’m a med school graduate, headed into my first year as an intern. I’ve had some field experience. We’ve got three RTA victims. One male in his fifties in the truck. Two females, one adult, one child in the overturned vehicle over there. Child’s coherent, says her hand hurts. She’s trapped in the back in a child seat. Adult woman, the child’s mother, is unconscious, but her vitals are steady. I haven’t moved anyone.”

One of the medics got on his radio, requesting a fire crew with cutting equipment and another ambulance. “You wanna hang around?” the other EMT asked. “We may need an assist until another rig gets here.”

Checking my watch, my heart sunk when I saw my interview was meant to start in five minutes. I’d miss it even if I didn’t assist here and I didn’t want to leave the victims, at least until I knew they’d be okay.

Crushing disappointment clogged inside my throat, but I cleared it, and nodded to the EMT. “Of course.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, looking me up and down. “You look a little young to have graduated med school.”

“Freya,” I murmured, looking around the scene and smiling wryly.

I’d just willingly thrown away my dream job. There was no way Doctor Locke would see me now. He probably had a day full of interviewing candidates. Why the hell would he hire a girl who couldn’t even make it to her appointment on time?

And as I hurried to the truck to check on the driver, I resigned myself to the fact that I’d screwed it up, but I also knew I couldn’t have walked by and not helped. I had dreams, sure, but I also had a calling, and to leave someone suffering would have screwed with my head.

My conscience wouldn’t allow it.

“His BP’s dropping again,” Harry the EMT yelled as we rushed the stretcher toward the ER.

The cacophony of blaring sirens and shouts filled the air around us, drowning out any sense of calm I may have had.

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