Page 98 of Shine: Sins of the Father
“My baby. I have to get my baby.”
He straightens and yells to someone, waving them over. “She’s got a baby in the car.”
A patrolman approaches, already talking on his radio and calling for an ambulance.
The man helps me out, and the officer goes to open Dylan’s door. It’s bent, and he can’t get it open, so he goes in through the passenger side I just exited and crawls back to get him.
A moment later, Dylan is in my arms. He’s crying, but I don’t see any visible injuries.
I cradle his head against my shoulder. “I’ve got you, baby boy. Mommy’s here.”
The officer reaches inside my car and hands me my purse.
“Thank you.” Pain radiates up my chest and side.
“Let’s get you out of the street. The paramedics will be here in a minute.”
We move to the far corner, and I see some people working on the driver of the car that hit me.
A woman who was driving the car that t-boned me comes to stand next to us.
“Are you okay? I tried to stop. It all happened so fast.”
“I think so. My chest and side hurt.”
“Mine too. It’s probably from the seatbelt strap.”
“I’m just worried about my baby. What happened? Do you know?”
“I heard one of the people say the driver is an older man. They think maybe he had a stroke or heart attack. He was passed out against the wheel, his foot still on the gas.”
Sirens fill the air, and a fire engine and two paramedics pull up.
Before I know it, Dylan and I are loaded in one and taken to the hospital.
“Can someone call my mom? My phone must still be in the car,” I ask the paramedic sitting near me in the rear of the vehicle.
He slips his phone out, and I rattle off the phone number. I wish I had Shine’s number memorized. He’s waiting for me, and I have no way to tell him unless I spill the beans to my parents.
When we arrive, we’re wheeled to the emergency bay immediately.
I’m not there long before my parents show up and are let back. When I see their concern, I burst into tears.
“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” my mother asks, rushing to me and taking my hand.
A doctor is examining Dylan, and Dylan is screaming. “He seems all right, but I’d like to send him down for some imaging. I want to make sure there are no internal injuries from the impact.”
“Oh, dear,” my mother says.
“We’ll give him mild sedation so we can get that done. Radiology should be up to get him soon. I’ll be back to check in with you afterward.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“It could be an hour or more, folks.”
My father nods. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, doctor,” my mother murmurs, then turns her attention to me. “What about you? Are you okay, Fiona?”
