Page 72 of Wreckage of Us
Finally, paramedics rush in and push me out of the way.
“He was shot at very close range,” I inform them right away, feeling so proud of how calm my voice sounds. I only had one brief stint in the ER when I first started nursing school, and I had to pass some tests, so I remember the basics.
“How long ago?” one of them asks without looking at me. He already has an IV started while the other paramedic is cutting Dylan’s sweatshirt right down the middle.
“Uh, maybe five minutes,” I say once I am over the shock of seeing the hole in Dylan’s chest. It actually doesn’t look so bad now that I see it. I’m starting to hope that it’s one of those where they bleed worse than they actually are.
“Hey,” I jump in place when Jessica raises her voice behind me. “Don’t move, asshole." I turn to look just in time to see her lifting her foot to kick Snake in the balls. He moans in pain, and she kicks him again. “Asshole,” she mutters. “You better not move until the police tells you that you can. I still have the skillet with me.” She lifts it off the floor for good measure.
I wish I could laugh because that shit is funny. Police officers rush in from all sides just then, guns pointed at everyone.
“Put your hands up,” a couple of them yell, and we all comply. Well, Jessica has to put the skillet down first.
There’s a bit of commotion as they try to figure out who the players are. I let Arlene and Jessica explain the situation, with a comment here and there from Malone. I am too distracted to care though. I need to know that the man I love will be okay.
“Alright, on three,” one of the paramedics announces. They are getting ready to transfer Dylan on a stretcher. When that’s done, they adjust the IV bag, then lift the stretcher up so they can roll it to the ambulance that’s parked in my driveway.
“Is anyone going with him?” the other one asks, looking at me in question.
“I, uh, I…” I try again, then look at Arlene. I really don’t have any legal right to be with Dylan. I can’t make any life altering decisions when it comes to his care.
“Go with him,” she tells me. “Malone and I will follow after we’re done here,” she looks around at the scene. Both Bricks and Snake are surrounded by paramedics and police officers. Neither one of the two is moving. I can only hope that between me and Jessica, we literally beat them to death.
I turn around and jog lightly to the ambulance where they already got the stretcher with Dylan strapped to it loaded. One of the paramedics helps me get up there with him, doors slam shut, and off we go.
“Vitals are weak,” I comment when I take a look at the monitor.
“You know about this stuff?” the paramedic asks in surprise.
“I’m a nurse,” I shrug and pick up Dylan’s hand. Touching his skin helps to ease my anxiety. I need him to be okay. I can’t imagine him not being around anymore, not meeting our child…
“You got this, baby,” I murmur to him over and over with one eye on the monitor.
All of a sudden, the machine starts beeping out of control.
“Oh shit,” I almost yell, but let go of his hand and push myself out of the way so the paramedic has room to move around.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “He’s seizing. Stay back!”
I watch helplessly as Dylan’s large body convulses on the stretcher. The paramedic turns him gently on his side, then looks at his watch to time it. It feels like it’s taking forever until it all stops, but now the machine is beeping again.
“His oxygen levels are low,” the paramedic calls out to the driver.
“Two minutes out,” the driver yells back, focused on his driving which is bumpy to say the least.
When I don’t think I can take much more, we finally pull in at the hospital. Ironically, it is the one where I work. When I’m not on a leave of absence that is.
Since they called ahead, an entire team of doctors and nurses rush out of the building, pulling the stretcher out and running with it back inside. I hurry up to keep up with them, not bothering to pay attention too much.
“Wow, that’s quite the commotion,” Ronnie, the nurse at the reception desk takes me in. “You okay?”
“I… I… I…” Damn all this stuttering to hell and back. Why is it happening to me? I take a deep breath to calm down, then try again. “I’m okay,” I finally say. “My boyfriend though…” I point toward the swinging doors where they went with him.
“He’s got Dr. Nolan,” Ronnie informs me. “You know he’s good.”
“Yeah, he’s good.” I press a hand to my chest and pray that Oliver can handle this shit storm we brought to his door.
“Go on in the back and sit there,” Ronnie moves his head toward the sliding doors where only staff is allowed.
