Chapter 2
Buck was jogging down the sidewalk, one earbud in his ear while the other one hung loosely around his neck. His pace picked up with the tempo of the song and his breathing was labored.
He saw a car speeding down the street, coming towards his way. Buck shook his head. When would people ever learn? There was no use trying to get to a place faster if you ended up wrapped around a telephone pole.
And just like Buck feared, by trying to turn a corner at full speed, the car slid into oncoming traffic, causing a head-on collision.
Buck quickly took his cell phone out and called 9-1-1.
"9-1-1. What's your emergency?"
"I'm out for a run, and I've just witnessed a head-on collision between two cars. No one has gotten out of the car, so I don't know how serious the injuries are."
"And your address?"
He rattled it off. "I'm going to get closer to see if I can help get them out."
"Please sir, do not do that. There's no way of knowing what kind of danger there might be. Or what kind of injuries they might have. First responders are on the way. Please leave it to them."
It went against Buck's very nature to not help someone in need, but he forced himself to listen to the dispatcher. "Fine, I won't help."
Buck stood and watch as a fire engine with a big 118, along with an ambulance, sped down the street and stopped close to the crash. He nodded to himself as two paramedics got out with their bags. A man that wore the uniform of a captain got out of the fire truck and started barking orders. And then to Buck's surprise, Mr. Diaz got out along with another guy.
They all moved in sync to the two cars. The occupants still hadn't moved from inside.
Buck bit his tongue, hoping they were okay.
He watched as Mr. Diaz used a tool to pull a dented door open so he could get to the driver. Buck couldn't see from a distance, but he seemed to be talking softly to the driver, probably checking for a concussion.
The driver must have not had any injuries too serious because he was getting out, with the help of Mr. Diaz without calling for one of the paramedics or even a backboard.
Mr. Diaz passed the driver onto the female paramedic who began checking for minor injuries while the two firefighters moved to the other car.
This one seemed more serious. Mr. Diaz's partner called over the male medic, who brought a backboard.
Buck watched as the three of them worked diligently to get a neck brace fastened onto the driver's neck, and then to get the driver onto the backboard, before carting him off to the ambulance.
Mr. Diaz took the tool that was used to pry the doors open and began walking over to the fire truck with it. He looked up and their eyes met.
Buck waved.
Mr. Diaz's lips seemed to quirk in a little smile. He passed the tool off to his partner and said something to the captain before jogging over. "Hey, Buck. Fancy running into you here?" It was a statement, but it sounded like a question.
"I was jogging and saw the accident. I'm the one who called 9-1-1. I was surprised to see you, though."
"What? Do I not look like the first responder type?"
Buck blushed slightly. "It's not that. I've met some first responders. I'm kind of accident-prone. Actually, more than that. Trouble just seems to find me. And the ones I've met have been a bit full of themselves. You're so down-to-earth, so it never even crossed my mind."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was meant to be. So, you moved all of the way to Los Angeles from Texas to be a first responder? Don't they have those in Texas?"
"You moved all of the way to Los Angeles from Pennsylvania to be a pediatrician. Don't they have those in Pennsylvania?" Mr. Diaz volleyed right back.
"Touche." Buck nodded.
Mr. Diaz stared at him for a moment. "So, do you always jog around here?"
"I do different roads. It keeps my jogs more interesting when I change scenery."
"And you've never gotten lost?" Mr. Diaz asked with a laugh.
"I wouldn't say never," Buck hedged, "But I managed to find my way home."
"For some reason, I think I understand why you get into so much trouble that you know a lot of the city's first responders."
Buck shrugged. "It keeps life interesting." He looked over Mr. Diaz's shoulder and saw his team all watching them talk with varying expressions on their faces as the two paramedics got into the ambulance to take the victims to the hospital, and he wondered what this looked like to them. "You should go, Mr. Diaz. I think your team is waiting for you."
Mr. Diaz looked behind him. "I guess so." He faced Buck. "But one more thing. If you want, I wouldn't be opposed to you calling me Eddie."
Buck's heart picked up its tempo within his chest. "Okay, Eddie. Maybe I'll see you around."
"Hopefully, it won't be because you need 9-1-1."
Buck smiled and watched Eddie walk away, back to his team, where he would sure be fielding questions about how he knew some random bystander. He couldn't help but watch the way he walked. He sure looked good in his uniform.
