Chapter 7
Tad McClane was getting the hang of this paramedic job: drug OD, drug OD, old person injury, shooting: repeat. He might as well throw out all the rest of his notes. It's a pity because he had been really looking forward to treating his first platypus sting (treat with heat, not cold). Why anyone thought it necessary to include platypus stings in his paramedic course was still a complete mystery to him, but he was mighty keen to show off his knowledge. Right now, his monotreme venom dreams would have to wait: it was time for tonight's shooting.
Ned backed the ambulance into the driveway next to a car that looked like it was straight out of Hazard County. The house appeared deserted but Tad knew this was just an illusion – they had been briefed on the way: witness down, power out, use extreme caution. Tad grabbed a flashlight and a box of medical equipment and climbed out of the van. There was an unusual smell in the air – like something burning.
An eerily illuminated face met him, gun raised. "Agent DiNozzo," it rasped by way of introduction. "We could have a sniper out here." The face scanned the area professionally before continuing. "The patient is in the basement but once you have him, we might need a quick getaway."
Tad went around to the back of the ambulance and hoisted the rear door open. Momentarily he marveled at the interior space of these new vehicles. Some of their training cars had been cramped but this one had a stretcher and an extra side bed. He reached for the stretcher.
"Leave it," his boss instructed. "It's only a leg. We'll be quicker carrying him out once he's splinted."
"Won't that be painful?"
"Not as painful as a gunshot wound to the head."
"Well, technically, that's not so pain…".
Tad deferred to his boss and the two paramedics followed the agent to the front door of the darkened house. Once inside, DiNozzo led them down a set of rickety wooden stairs to where their patient lay, watched over by an older man.
It wasn't until he was face to face with his patient that Tad finally realized the reason for his persistent, nagging de ja vu: these people were all from the autopsy room. It was even the same patient.
"This really isn't your week, is it?" he joked splinting the injured limb.
"You have no idea," the patient grimaced.
"Where are the lights, DiNozzo?" demanded the older man.
"Probie says they've been taken out somewhere further up the line. He's back helping Ziva search the house."
Tad finished his work and waited while his boss did a quick inspection by gloomy light.
"I'll do," was the verdict. "Let's get out of here."
The two paramedics lifted Jimmy and carried him carefully up the stairs in almost complete silence. Their two escort agents lit the way, holding their guns alertly. Against all Tad's expectation, they made it to the ambulance without the slightest hint of danger.
"That was too easy," muttered the old guy.
Just what Tad didn't need: a pessimist.
Working only by dull flashlight, the paramedics eased their patient into the ambulance and strapped him in. Tad climbed in beside him and perched on the bed opposite leaning forward so that he could keep an eye on his charge.
"Let's go," said his boss gruffly.
As the rear door slammed shut, Tad turned his attention to his patient who was taking his ordeal fairly well, all things considered.
"Hi," he started. "I'm Tad. We didn't have a chance to introduce ourselves last time."
"Last time?"
"Autopsy – when you bashed your head."
"Really! I don't remember you but there was a lot going on that night." There was a pause. "Jimmy," he said finally. "Jimmy Palmer."
Ned started the engine up and Tad felt himself finally relax. Whatever was out there was going to stay out there. He'd feel even better when they were out of the driveway and on the road.
Then suddenly there was a gun at his head. At the other end there was a wild-eyed unshaven man.
"No mistakes this time," the man growled, his malevolent stare focused squarely on Jimmy.
Tad did not stop to think. Before he knew it, he had ripped his shiny new gun from his ankle holster and fired: fired where was another matter. All three men ducked as the renegade bullet ricochet around the interior. The ambulance screeched to a halt throwing Tad and the less impetuous gun welding occupant to the floor.
"Everyone OK?"
Tad looked up to see the back door open and four guns trained on them – the original agents were now accompanied by two more.
"I think the paramedic just shot me," Jimmy grunted.
Tad was relieved when two of the agents climbed in and dragged their assailant away. The guy was looking a little shocked – possibly from the gun shot or the fall to the floor – maybe he should just check him over. Tad never got the chance, however, because by that time his boss had jumped into the back of the ambulance and was giving him a steely gaze.
"Just a graze on the arm," said Ned, checking Jimmy over.
Then he turned to Tad. "You shot the patient?"
"I didn't know bullets bounce so much."
"This isn't going to look good on your probationary report."
Jimmy fell into an overstuffed chair beside Ducky's hospital bed, his crutches clattering to the floor. He was stiff and sore but at least his head had stopped hurting.
"Elegantly done, Mr Palmer," said Ducky with only a hint of sarcasm.
Sitting up in his hospital bed, Ducky was looking frail yet focused. The worst was clearly over and yet Jimmy could not help but be reminded of the man's advancing age.
"I'm just glad to be alive," said Jimmy.
"Yes you certainly have had a baptism of fire, if you'll pardon the pun. Do you have your exam results yet?"
"Not yet."
"Well, I have," Ducky confided. "You passed with flying colors, my boy. Always pays to have friends on the board."
"Really!"
"You should have no problem running the place in my absence."
"When will you be back at work?"
"After all that's happened, Jordon and I thought we might do a wee bit of touring around the Highlands."
"Touring?"
"Yes, well my lecturing duties don't commence until university or rather college starts again. I think we have time for a little holiday. You know, I haven't had a decent holiday for as long as I can remember. What with mother and this job, there never seemed the time. For once in my life I feel like I've earned the right to a break."
"You're coming back, right?'
"That depends entirely on the quality of the fairways and the abundance of trout, Mr Palmer."
"But I'm not doing this all by myself," said Jimmy.
"You don't think after the past few days you could handle anything?"
"After the past few days, I need a break myself. These have been the worst few days of my life."
"What, just because you've been stalked by a crazed gunman, knocked out, broken your leg and shot by a paramedic?"
"Pretty much."
"Worse than doing exams?"
Jimmy paused to consider. "Nope," he finally conceded, "nothing is worse than exams."
THE END
PS: My recent first aid course included a section on platypus stings. Yes I'm Australian but I have never met anyone who has seen a platypus in the wild.
P.P.S. Just wanted to clarify the ME stuff after Miss_Barbara asked on NFA.
According to US state laws, you must have a medical degree plus at least 4 years ME residency to become an ME. To become a medical examiner's assistant you must be a certified doctor (something Jimmy is not). In Probie, as Miss_Barbara rightly points out, Ducky states that you "don't need a degree to become a medical examiner." Actually, in the US you do, but not to be a coroner. I suspect the writers mixed that up. Of course where Ducky's from, according to wikipedia 'Scotland has no system of Coronial investigation.'
P.P.P.S. Breath easy everyone: Ducky didn't say that. According to the Probie transcript, he said coroner not ME:
ABBY: I think I'm ready for the next big step.
DUCKY: And what's that?
ABBY: Assisting in an autopsy.
JIMMY: Oh, yeah, right!
DUCKY: Actually, Mister Palmer, a medical degree is not required even to be a coroner.
That'll teach me not to check quotes.