"I don't know, Frank, the call just said a one-car accident off Route 22. It's just our dumb luck we were on call tonight." The EMT continued checking over the equipment stacked in the back of the moving ambulance.
"Dumb is right," Frank snorted. "Ten bucks says it's some stupid kid who had a few too many." His partner didn't respond. "Joe, are we on?" The ambulance slowed, and Joe was staring out the window. Frank crossed to the other side to see what had his partner transfixed. "Oh, crap."
The car was on fire. The driver's side door looked as if it had burst open on impact, and members of the volunteer fire department were standing as far back as they could and still drench the flames with water from the pumper truck. The EMTs grabbed what they needed for an initial search and ran out. Frank found the captain and yelled, "Anyone in there, Mike?"
The captain shook his head. "Driver must have gotten out. Windshield's still intact. Whoever he is, he's lucky. Be burned alive if he'd gotten stuck." Frank could just make out the words over the combined noise of the fire and the hoses. "I'm not sure how long we have. Fire's close to the gas tank. Find him quick."
Joe had already started searching the brush in the immediate area. Frank joined him, shining a flashlight through the leaves and branches. Seconds stretched into minutes, then Joe grabbed Frank's arm, pointing the beam a little further to the left. "Frank, there." The circle of light came to rest on a hand. The two burst into action, Joe moving to the victim and Frank sprinting back to the ambulance for a stretcher.
Joe cleared away as much of the brush as he could and gulped when he got his first look at the driver. "Holy Mother of... it's a kid!"
"Ten bucks," Frank yelled as he guided the stretcher to the location.
"No, Frank, a kid kid," Joe yelled back. "Can't be more than sixteen. Probably doesn't even have a license yet." He checked the boy's vital signs. "Has a pulse, though. Lucky kid."
The captain ran over. "Get him out as fast as you can. The fire's gone too far. Car's gonna blow."
They strapped the boy to the stretcher and ran to the ambulance.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Patient's a white male juvenile, about sixteen years of age. No ID. Bruises over fifty percent of his body, four inch laceration over the right temple. Probable concussion, most likely severe – he's still unconscious," Frank said into the radio. "Vitals are..." He continued updating the hospital while Joe monitored the boy.
"Wonder what the kid was doing out there?" Joe muttered to himself. He gently pushed up the kid's eyelids, checked his pupils with a flashlight, and was relieved to see them respond appropriately. Under the bruises and the dirt the boy looked well cared for. The clothes he wore were reasonably new, although the jeans now had rips in both knees, and the blue polo was in shreds. His dark, curly hair looked like it had been cut recently.
As Joe cleaned the gash on the boy's forehead, the kid's eyes fluttered open. "What happened?" he asked. "Where am I?"
"It's okay, kid," Joe replied, waving to get Frank's attention. "We're taking you to the hospital. You were in an accident. Do you remember how you got in the car?" The boy stared at him with glassy eyes, clearly not comprehending what Joe was saying to him.
Frank put the radio down and came over. "Son, can you tell us your name?"
The boy blinked, trying to focus. "Jeff," he finally said. "Jeffrey Jones."
"Good, Jeff," Frank encouraged. "Can you tell us your address? Or your phone number?"
For a moment Jeff looked confused, then gave them an address and phone number in Manhattan.
"Okay, Jeff," Joe said. "Can we contact your parents at that number?" He was surprised to see the boy's eyes fill with tears. Jeff started to shake his head but stopped almost immediately, wincing with pain. "Jeff, you all right?"
"Folks are dead," Jeff breathed out. "Aunt Elizabeth." His eyes were losing focus.
"Stay with us son," Frank encouraged. "How old are you, Jeff?"
Jeff's eyes moved to Frank's face. "Eleven." The word sounded slurred. Joe looked from Jeff to Frank and shook his head. "No way," he mouthed.
Frank's eyebrows raised. "Eleven? Okay. Can you tell me what year it is?" He glanced at his partner.
"Eighty-two," Jeff whispered. Then his expression went slack and his eyes closed as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Joe and Frank stared at each other. "Did I say lucky?" Joe asked. "Kid's lost four years." He nodded to the radio. "You better warn the hospital, so they'll know what to expect."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The nurses woke Jeff up every hour on the hour. They checked his vital signs, asked him simple questions, and helped him drink or get to the bathroom if he needed to. Light hurt his eyes, so they left the room in semi-darkness as much as possible. Jeff woke up on his own a few minutes before the tenth visit – or was it the eleventh? He had lost count. He waited, but this time no one came. This was a problem as he needed to use the bathroom and wasn't sure he should be walking around without help. Until now, he hadn't been alert enough to ask what was wrong with him. He was a little surprised Aunt Elizabeth hadn't yet arrived to scold him for wasting her time, but he supposed the doctors had kept her away for now. He also wondered how he had gotten there and, more importantly, how quickly he could leave. Being in the hospital reminded him too much of the last time he had been in one, after the crash that killed his parents. He rubbed his eyes and tried to think of something else. Aunt Elizabeth could be coming any minute, and she didn't do well with his emotions.
Fortunately, his physical needs soon took precedence over everything else. He pushed the call button next to his bed. No response. He turned his head gently from side to side. The only pain he felt came from the stitches his fingers could feel in his forehead, so he slipped out of the bed and headed stealthily to the bathroom. Once there, he flipped on the light, did what he needed to, and washed his hands. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and froze, his blood running cold.
The on-duty nurses were leaving the emergency in the room three doors down when they heard Jeffrey yelling. The nurse who got to his room first found him pressed against the wall farthest from the mirror, his eyes wide and his breath coming in short gasps. She gently pulled him out of the bathroom and guided him back to the bed. "Shhh. It's all right, Jeffrey. It's all right. We're going to do our best to find out what happened to you." She rocked him back and forth in her arms until his breathing slowed, then turned to the younger nurse standing stock-still next to the bed, a shocked expression on her face. "Mary, go get Dr. Parker. Now." She brushed the curls from Jeff's forehead. "Tell that man if he's not here in five minutes, he will have me to deal with. Drag him here if you need to." The younger nurse sprinted out of the room, yelling "I'll be right back with him, Karen!" and ran down the hall. Then Karen went back to stroking Jeffrey's head and whispering to him what words of comfort that she could.
