Saving the Dead (4 page)

“That’s an interesting question,” said Ramirez. “You know there’s an old EMS proverb that says that we all get into this profession to save the world, but in less than a year, we don’t believe that the world is worth saving.

“What we do is not easy.  The world that we work in is dark and terrifying, and that’s without factoring in the walking dead.  We operate on humanity’s frontline.  We come in contact with people in their darkest hours and those who’ve succumbed to their darker natures.   I learned a long time ago to never underestimate mankind’s capacity for ignorance and cruelty.   We witness what depths people will go when they are in the throes of fear, rage, ignorance, and pain.  There’s a price for looking at the animal that lurks beneath humanity’s civilized face.  Once you see it you’re often changed in superficial and fundamental ways.

“Our purpose is in the struggle.  We remind people of order in the chaos, of hope in the fear.  We help those who deserve it as well as those who do not. We bring light to a world of darkness simply because it’s needed.”     

Ramirez looked at Justin. “You’re a good man, Justin.  You’ve kept your head where others would have failed, maybe even died.  You have potential, that much I can see, but you don’t have to do this.  Rule number three.  You can be done, no harm, no foul, no judgment.”

“I don’t know if I can handle this.  How can I tell?” asked Justin.

Ramirez shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing.  None of us knows what the next call will bring.”

Chapter Two

Labor Pains

“John just stopped with spare uniforms.”

Drifts tossed a bag at Justin. “Here’s one for you too, kid.  Unless you want to wear a paper gown all fucking night.  Come to think of it, that would be an interesting conversation piece for our patients.  Yeah!”  A wicked smile spread on Drifts face. “Okay, give me back that bag.”

Justin clutched the bag. “No.  No, I’m good.”

Drifts’s grin broadened. “You’re learning.  Good.”

Justin looked down at the bag. “So no one will mind if I go out dressed like you guys?”

“Aw hell, kid.  We won’t tell them if you don’t.  Just wear your glow-in-the-dark student vest over it, and you’ll be just fine.”

Ramirez stepped out of the bathroom stall tucking his shirt into his new pants.  He looked at the younger man, “Are you sure, Justin?”

“Sure, he’s fucking sure!” interjected Drifts. “He’s got some fucking stones on him.  That’s better than some of the walking meat sacks who’ve stepped onto our rig.”

“But . . . I didn’t do anything against that lady zombie in the apartment.”

“The hell you didn’t!  You helped us restrain that crazy bitch!  Besides that scenario was scary as fuck!  For a moment there, I thought we were all going to be motherfucking happy meals!  The fact that you didn’t shit your pants tells me plenty!”  Drifts looked at his partner. “Remember that kid last year who actually pissed himself?”

Ramirez nodded, “I do.  To be fair he did almost get bitten by that homeless man.”

“I wonder what happened to him,” Drifts mused.

“He’s in culinary school, doing quite well.  He’s getting married next summer.”

“Really?  How the hell do you know all of this, Leo?”

“He sent a postcard a few months back through the company.  He thanked me for saving his life.”

Drifts snorted. “All you did was prevent some drunk bastard from taking a fucking nip out of him.  Hey, why didn’t I get one from him?”

“Well. Sam, he didn’t like you very much.  He thought you were, and I quote ‘belligerent and mean.”

“Huh.” Drifts processed that for a moment. “Well, he was a pussy anyways, so who gives a fuck?  Come on boys, get those uniforms on.  We don’t want Big John’s panties in a wad.  If you two need me.  I’ll be down the hall.  There’s a perky nursing student with a perfect heart-shaped ass that needs my attention.”

“Don’t give her an STD,” said Leo.

Drifts’s glare could have melted steel. “Hardy fucking har har.  Shut up and get your clothes on!”

Suddenly their pagers beeped as their radios squawked, “Triple-Three, we need to pull you out of the hospital for a code three abdominal pain!”

“Damn it!” growled Drifts.

“Go ahead and head out to the truck, Sam.  Justin and I will be there in a minute,” said Ramirez.

“You got it!”

Drifts keyed his mic, his radio voice was smooth as silk. “Triple-Three on the way to the truck; we’ll alert you when we are en route.”  He released the key. “Fuckers!”

Justin scrambled to put the uniform on.  He had his new pants halfway up before he realized he pulled them on backwards.

Ramirez, without looking up from tying his boot laces said, “Easy kid.  Slow is smooth.  Smooth is fast.  We’ll get to the call when we get there.  Just concentrate on putting your clothes on right so it’s not a problem later.”

Justin flushed. “Okay.”

Minutes later once their new clothes were on correctly Ramirez took his place in the ambulance, along with Justin in his fluorescent student traffic vest.  Drifts put Triple-Three into drive and keyed the console mic. “Triple-Three en route.”

Dispatch came back on the radio. “Acknowledged Triple-Three.  You’re responding to Thirty-Ninth and O’Bannon at the Sunrise Mobile Home Park lot seven hundred and twelve for an abdominal pain code three.”

“Oh brother.” sighed Drifts, “I can feel my IQ dropping by just mentioning that pit of fucking idiocy.” He keyed the mic and his voice transformed into his pleasant tone. “Responding to Sunrise, that bastion of hope, on a code three abdominal pain.”

“The dispatch sup is going to probably take issue with you for that,” said Ramirez.

“Larry?  Nah! He’s a pushover.  Besides, I enjoy our conversations.”

“Um, excuse me why aren’t you driving with your lights and sirens on?” asked Justin.

“On a code three abdominal pain, not fucking likely!” responded Drifts.

“Code three?”

“A code three emergency call that doesn’t require a lights and siren response,” said Ramirez. “We have three levels.  Dispatch questions the caller to see what is going on and determines their level of acuity.  Code ones are the biggest emergencies, heart attacks, shortness of breath, gunshot wounds to vital areas.  Those get priority because there is a higher potentiality for harm.  Therefore lights and sirens.  Code two most car accidents without significant damage showing, extremity injuries. Things that have a potential to kill you, but not as likely.

Drifts interjected as he pulled up to a red light, “Yeah and code threes are not life threatening.  Here’s some of the code three calls I’ve responded to. Things like a cold for two weeks, sunburn, a hang nail, and a fucking flea bite!”

Justin looked skeptical. “Really?”

Ramirez shrugged.  “I once responded to a code three for a man with an itchy eyebrow.  He said it was better after he scratched it, but insisted on going to the hospital to be checked out.”

“So we are responding to a nonemergency emergency call?”

“Ding ding ding!  The student gets it right!” exclaimed Drifts, “What I don’t understand is why the hell they couldn’t have pulled us from the hospital for a real call.  Maybe something really exciting like a shooting.”

The radio squawked, “Unit Three-Five-Four respond to the corner of Webb and Cinader for a shooting.  Police en route!”

“Hot damn we’re just down the street from that call!” cried Drifts.  He snatched up the mic, “Dispatch, Triple-Three is at Thirty-Fifth and Bloom.”

“Hold on Triple-Three; Three-Fifty-Four, what’s your location?”

“Three-Fifty-Four, on scene.”

“Three-Fifty-Four staged for P.D.  Triple-Three, continue onto your call.

“Staged my ass!  I bet Dave and Roy are still picking their ass at post.  Damn. I thought for sure we were in for something awesome!”

Ramirez looked up from his map book at his partner. “Sam, we did just run a code, fight her knife wielding daughter, and take out a zombie all in one call.  How much more excitement do you want?”

“I know.  I know.  I just think we should have a motherfucking service announcement on what’s an emergency and what’s not!”

“But wait,” chimed in Justin, “couldn’t the stomach pain be something serious like appendicitis or abdominal aneurysm?”

Drifts looked at him sourly through the rearview mirror. “I don’t remember giving the student permission to break into my fucking rant with his oh-so-knowledgeable interjections.”

Justin flushed and dropped eye contact.

Ramirez smiled. “He’s just joking, Justin.  Don’t take him too seriously.”

“No I’m not!”

“Besides” Ramirez continued, “he has a point.  It is possible.”

Drifts rolled his eyes. “Of course, it’s fucking possible!  It’s also possible for the Pope to convert to Hinduism, but it’s not bloody likely.  No, these assholes we are seeing have probably had abdominal pain for a fucking month, or they’re F-O-S.”

Justin looked at Ramirez confused, “F.O.S.?”

“He means they’re constipated.” Ramirez explained.

“Constipated?  Oh!  F.O.S., I get it now.  Wait, people call 911 for that too?”

“Yes,” sighed Ramirez.

“You’re damn right they do!” snapped Drifts.

As they drove down a winding street, the scenery began to change.  The houses gave way to a series of apartment complexes.  Then the apartments became less and less frequent as the ratio of trees and foliage began to multiply.  There were lone house and trailers interspersed down the road.  Many of the homes had broken down vehicles in various states of disrepair in their yards.  The brush overtook most of the cars, and the crew could see the glow of animal eyes peering from within the metal husks.  Many of these homes were in varying states of disrepair.  The dilapidated homes had sagging roofs, boarded up windows, and missing doors. 

The ambulance approached a large road sign with peeling paint and crackling neon lights proclaiming it to be:

unri Mo ile Ho   Park

“Hey Justin, if we pass any of your kin you be sure to let us know, ya hear!” Drifts drawled.

Justin smirked despite himself.

As Drifts pulled the ambulance in he said, “Hey Leo, keep an eye out for any For Sale signs.  I’m looking to move my meth lab to a new location, and this looks like prime real estate.”

Ramirez snorted. “What happened to your crack house operation?”

“Oh that?  I still dabble, but it’s gotten so much harder since my crack whores unionized.  I was going to switch to meth because I heard the cost to my overhead would be so much less.” 

“Are you guys always like this?” asked Justin.

“Yes.  Sam here is quite the entrepreneur.  He is always looking for new ways to improve his business,” Ramirez responded.

“No fucking way!” Drifts nodded at the man sitting on a rocker on his porch just in a pair of filthy tighty-whitey underwear strumming on a banjo.  He looked at his partner. “You can’t make this shit up!”

Ramirez smiled and hummed the opening bar of dueling banjos.  Justin looked at the normally sober man with open shock.  Drifts grinned at his partner and whistled it back.  The two partners continued their musical banter as they drove, only pausing here and there for Ramirez to guide his partner in with the map book.  After a few minutes they stopped their rig front of lot seven hundred twelve.

“Oh, what the fuck is this?” growled Drifts.  He sighed heavily as he picked up the consoles mic. “Unit Triple-Three on scene.”

“On scene.”

The source of Drifts’s reaction was a large group of unkempt people standing directly before the trailer in question. 

Drifts looked over at his partner. “I think they might have a full set of teeth between them all.”

Ramirez shrugged. “Probably not.”

They stepped out of their vehicle and Drifts ignored the group as he grabbed the stretcher.  Justin stepped out with the medical bag slung over his shoulder and helped Drifts pull the stretcher out.

Ramirez took point on the crowd analyzing them as they approached.  The men mostly shirtless, although a few had wife-beater tank tops on.  The women also wore wife-beaters and muumuus, but none of them appeared to have bras on, “Hello.  Did someone here call 911?