The red light envelopes me in its glow and then fades out to circle the night sky. My eyes are transfixed as it loops around again and again. The bus is jerking me back and forth as it races through the streets and I am feeling nauseous. Still I am entranced by that red light. There is a commotion around me. Medics are speaking around me but I can't make out what they are saying. Their voices are hollow, empty sounding. They are handing things back and forth across but I have lost my glasses and all I can see are blurry figures hovering around me. Bile is rising in my throat and I try to catch the paramedic's attention but I can't move; I can't make a sound. A moment later I have the sour taste of vomit on my tongue and begin to gag as it trickles back down my throat. I try to cry out again but I only choke. The red light seems to be slowing and my eyelids are getting heavy. Someone leans in close to me and shouts something that I can't understand. It sounds like Fin, but I can barely see him. I try to tell him that I can't understand him but all that comes out is a desperate gurgle. I can't seem to keep my eyes open and he shakes me hard.
"John! Stay with me! Hey he's choking here!" There is another face in front of me and a set of fingers in my mouth. This can't be sanitary. There is a tube placed in my mouth and there is a sensation of suction; when it is removed I can breathe again. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, even voices. "Hang in there partner," Fin tells me. Except it sounds more like 'phaaaaaardneeeeeer'. It's almost comical and I want to tell him how funny he sounds. I try to laugh but it isn't laughter that comes out. The tears sting as they slide down my cheeks and I am a little embarrassed. I am trying to remember how I ended up in the back of an ambulance but everything is fuzzy. I wonder how bad off I am, or where I have been hit but all I feel is cold. "Take it easy man. We're almost there." I try to move again but my limbs seem heavy. I concentrate and try to focus on Fin.
"I can't feel anything," I manage to croak, "I can't move." I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Fin…."
"It's alright John. They gave you morphine and you're strapped to a gurney. You're going to be fine. Just hang on." I want to ask him what happened but I am having trouble catching my breath. This catches the attention of the paramedics and they slip an oxygen mask over my face before I have a chance to try and get answers. I want to know what happened. I want to know where she is. I need to know that she is safe; I promised that I would keep her safe.
Fin stays beside my stretcher as I am wheeled into the emergency room and he is trying to ease my anxiety. His furrowed brow and tight lips are betraying his words of encouragement though and I am unconvinced. I am being jostled around as my gurney is rushed down a long hallway and it has made me nauseous again. I am wheeled into the trauma bay and as I am lifted onto the table I catch sight of my legs. They are covered in blood and charred skin. What remains of my pants is plastered to them like paper mache. What the hell happened? I try to remember but everything is hazy; this damn morphine. Fin must catch the look on my face because he lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder and tells me that they are not as bad as they look. I can catch bits and pieces of what the doctors are saying. Something about smoke inhalation, third degree; I hear one of them say that I am going into shock. Shock, now there is an understatement. I look up at Fin and despite his reassurances his face is twisted with worry. He is glancing back and forth between me and the next trauma bay and I can hear some kind of commotion over there. Is she over there? Is she alright? I need to know if she is alright. I have vomited again and the mask is making me choke again. Fin looks down and before a nurse ushers him out of the room he tells me that they are doing everything that they can for her. Everything they can? God, what the hell happened? There is a searing pain in my legs and I try to see what is happening, but my neck is braced. My limbs jerk against the restraints uncontrollably and I cry out. The mask is muffling the sound and I try in vain to catch the attention of the medical team. Why won't anyone tell me what is going on? Tears stream down my cheeks, as I cry out again, the pain worse not then before. My eyes shoot open but all I see is white. I am finding it hard to catch my breath and my heart is racing. It catches the attention of the doctor and a moment later the nurse adjusts my IV. I am very cold and the room is fading away. I struggle to keep my eyes open and catch sight of Fin peering in through the window. He is looking increasingly worried as his eyes dart back and forth between me and the next trauma bay. I try to concentrate; to keep my eyes open but my eyelids won't cooperate. The light is beginning to fade and I am no longer cold. I can hear the medical staff moving around me but it feels like they are increasingly farther away. I am fading into the dark and as I give in to it I feel warmer. In fact I am suddenly feeling rather comfortable and my breathing becomes less labored. I feel a presence, as if someone is standing next to me. "Sleep," a man's voice tells me, in a soft but authoritative tone. It's comforting and oddly familiar. I keep trying to place it but my mind is hazy and I can't concentrate. "It's time to sleep. Rest now." The voice fades away and I sink into the darkness