Page 129 of Ten Day Affair
The shock paddles charge, and everyone steps back except me. I keep compressions until the last second.
"Clear."
His body jolts. The monitor flat lines for a heartbeat, then beeps back to life. Steady rhythm and a strong pulse come to life.
"There we go."
I'm breathing hard, wiping sweat from my foreheadwith the back of my wrist. The room is too bright suddenly, too real.
Tracy strips off her gloves and tosses them at the trash bin near my feet.
"Nice catch. You just saved his ass."
It's not exactly a compliment, but it's not nothing either. A small crack in the wall between us.
Later, O'Brien passes me in the hallway.
"Good instincts, Taylor." She doesn't stop or make eye contact, just says it as she walks by.
That's it. No fanfare, no celebration. But something loosens in my chest anyway. It's like I can breathe deeply for the first time in days.
In the bathroom, I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Blood on my left cheek that isn't mine smears across it. Long strands of hair fall out of its ponytail. I may look like hell, but I feel useful, needed, even, for the first time since I got here.
"Guess I don't suck today."
The words bounce off the empty walls.
After rounds, I need to find the records room for a patient file. Somehow, I end up in the rear hospital lot instead. The GPS on my phone gave up three hallways ago.
Great. Lost again.
The lot stretches behind the main building, filled with dumpsters and forgotten equipment. A storage shed sits crooked against the back fence, and tucked beside it is something that stops me cold.
It's an old medical van. The white paint is peeling like sunburned skin, and the tires are flat against the cracked asphalt. The logo on the side is so faded I can barely make out the words.
Mobile Clinic
"That thing hasn't run in two years. Such a shame."
I jump and spin around. An older Black man in maintenance coveralls stands behind me, keys jangling from his belt. His name tag reads Leon.
"Sorry, I was looking for records and got turned around."
"No problem, honey. You're new, right? I'm Leon."
He reaches his large palm out, and I follow suit to shake his weathered hand.
"Sam. What was this van for?"
Leon's face shifts, something wistful crossing his features. He walks closer, running his palm over the faded hood.
"Outreach program. We used to drive through East Point every Friday. It was a hospital-on-wheels type deal."
I crouch beside the van door, my fingers trailing over the peeling paint. The metal is warm from the sun.
"People actually used this?"
"Hell yeah. We used to pack this thing full of medical supplies. Blood pressure checks, diabetes monitoring, and basic care. Now, folks come here too late. It was a damn shame to lose it."
