As chance would have it

It started, as these things do, innocently enough. Betsy Ramone, aged 6, dashed into the street to retrieve her ball. The street was busy; what with being the Christopher Columbus highway, but not too busy to deter her.

Four hours later, paramedics were still extricating bodies from the wreckage. Anneke van de Kamp, a young émigré working as a model, and her husband Hugo, a stockbroker who still couldn't believe his luck, were declared dead on the scene. Three teenaged cheerleaders, their fingers painted in the hues of their team, were taken home by police officers. Those milling around the three-car pile-up came to the conclusion that it was only Lucas Grey, seated at point of impact and now slumped onto the sidewalk, who should be taken to hospital.

"He's lucky to still be alive," a paramedic remarked to a journalist from the community paper. "And he's lucky to be going to a great hospital."

Another paramedic, rummaging through the remains of the glove compartment, retrieved a wallet and flipped it open. "Maybe," she said, "his luck is about to run dry."

"I'm going to need a doctor!" The paramedic yelled, wheeling the gurney through the doors of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

"In the emergency room of a hospital?" A man, his jaw dappled with stubble, enquired. "Good God, woman, are you insane?"

"Shut up, House," Dr. Alyson Cameron said amiably. "What happened?"

"Car accident. Nearest point of impact. Nothing major broken. Suffering from extensive blood loss."

"Hook him to a drip and let's go," House said.

"Can't," the paramedic said laconically. "He has a card in his wallet stating he's a Jehovah's Witness."

"So you're asking me to save a man's life without allowing the one thing that would save him?" House stiffly bent down to stare at Lucas Grey's face. "Are you going to litigate when I save you? I should hope so. I haven't been sued in a while. The judge is starting to give my parking spot at the Courthouse away."

"No," Cameron stated.

House glanced at her. "Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"This man made that choice while being of sound mind. He is perfectly entitled to refuse any medical help we care to give. And I will not let either one of you give him a blood transfusion without his permission."

"Well," the paramedic said carefully, "the card is rather old and faded. He might have changed his mind since."

"And left the card in his wallet?" Cameron argued. "I think not."

House took the proffered wallet from the paramedic and flipped it open. "Ah, yet another example of how awful the pictures on drivers licences invariably are. You could hardly believe this is the same guy. And since I have reasonably cause to doubt this man's devotion to his faith, I'm going to ask for a bag of blood now."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"The point's moot," the paramedic interrupted.

"Because I'm right," House said gleefully.

"No," the paramedic said, "because the patient is dead."

House looked at Cameron in mock horror. "Now look what you've done."

Before Cameron could reply, an uniformed police officer strolled in. "This the car accident victim?" she asked.

"Yes," Cameron said.

"Drove a black Mercedes with purple dice from the rearview mirror?"

"Yip," the paramedic affirmed.

"Still alive?"

"Nope," House said.

"Good. Saves me the hassle of having to arrest him." Officer De Salinas said and, seeing their confused faces, added, "he was driving a stolen vehicle. That wallet belongs to someone else."