Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
The end is near. I think there are only three chapters left.
SAM
I stared at my phone, not paying attention to the hum of conversation buzzing around me.
There was a game on the TV, and one of the guys was talking about some girl he'd met over the weekend.
I hadn't heard from Mercedes since we'd gotten back, and damn, it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to call her.
The fact I had to fight it so hard, sort of ticked me off, but I'd done a lot of thinking over the last three days, and me resisting calling her, spoke volumes.
I cared about her...really cared about her.
What I felt for her, went beyond what I'd felt for other girls, that had been in my life.
Even before the trip to the cabin, I looked forward to seeing her, to getting on each other's nerves. To watch her cheeks flush with amusement and to hear her husky laugh.
And now, I wanted to feel her lips graze mine and to hear the soft sounds she made, when I pleased her...to just be around her and have a thousand tomorrows with her.
These kinds of feelings had a name. I knew that.
I didn't know how long I'd felt this way, or what woke me up to realize it, but none of that really mattered. Nothing was going to change that. It's just the way I'm wired internally.
Once I felt something or made a decision, I stuck to it. The end.
And I'd made the decision to let her come to me. And as much as it killed me, I was sticking to it.
There was something going on with her and I had a feeling it didn't have anything to do with the anxiety attack she'd had.
I wanted to be there for her, but she had to let me be there. I couldn't force it. Shit never turned out well when you did it that way.
But the shit she'd said, about her not being worth it?
It made it so damn hard to stay away, because, how in the hell would I prove to her, that she was very much worth it, by staying away from her?
"Yo, Evans?"
My head snapped up. My colleague Jeff was standing a few feet from me, arms crossed over the gray company shirt.
"What?"
"Just making sure you're alive over there." He grinned. "You've been staring at your phone, like it's the hottest chick in this city."
I rolled my eyes, as I slipped my phone into my pocket and then sat back, stretching out my legs.
"The phone's more interesting than anything you've got to say."
Jeff laughed.
"You wound me, man. Freaking wound..."
Static crackled across the speakers, a second, before dispatcher's voice echoed through the fire hall.
"Single motor vehicle accident with possible entrapment. EMT en route. Company 10 responding. Company 70 on standby."
The voice rattled off the location of the accident and I stiffened.
The TV was muted and all conversation lulled, as our company moved to standby.
If they were going to call out more than one company, it means the accident had left a mess behind.
Company 10 was obviously going to handle the entrapment. We'd cover traffic if necessary.
"Shit," muttered Jeff, as he dropped into the seat beside mine. "I hate accidents with entrapment."
Very rarely did an accident involving entrapment, end with the person walking out on their own two legs.
I nodded, as another guy roamed into the room, pulling up his turnouts. I already had mine on.
And all on duty moved out to the truck and waited for further instructions. We were ready to roll out, if dispatch moved us out of standby.
The room was relatively silent as we waited to hear more.
A handful of minutes passed and then,
"Entrapment confirmed. Company 10 is beginning extraction methods," Dispatch announced, the voice monotone. "EMS on scene. Patient is unresponsive. Medevac 1 on standby. Company 70 remain on standby."
Shit! I scrubbed my hand across my jaw. Calling on an air ambulance to move to standby, wasn't uncommon if there was entrapment, if the patient was unresponsive, or if they couldn't get to the patient, to assess the full extent of the injuries.
I exchanged a look with Jeff, and figured he was remembering the last extraction we'd done. It had been a kid and that call...yeah...that call hadn't ended well.
No one had walked away from it.
"Patient is out of vehicle...Priority 1," Dispatch said.
"Fuck!" I said, closing my eyes.
Priority 1 meant there was basically a heartbeat...one code above Priority 0...which, in other words, was a DRT...Dead Right There.
Another voice crackled out and then dispatch confirmed,
"Patient is Priority 1. EMT on scene have stabilized for transport. Medevac 1 off standby."
"That's good," murmured Jeff.
I nodded again and waited.
If they were able to stabilize the person enough to transport via an ambulance, it was a good sign.
Then again, it could also mean, calling in the helicopter, wasn't going to do shit in the long run.
Eventually, we were called off standby and the accident scene ended up being cleared by the other company.
We got a call for a fire alarm at an apartment building, that turned out to be a false alarm, and then we headed out to grab a bite.
Once we returned back to the fire hall, one of the EMTs from another company, swung by to drop off something to one of the other guys.
I was barely paying attention, when I heard Jeff ask,
"You were on that accident call earlier, weren't you?"
The EMT inclined his head.
"Which one? I swear to God, that's all I've responded to tonight."
"The Priority 1 call," Jeff explained. "How'd that turn out?"
"Oh. The one out on 495? Man, they had a hell of a time getting the side off, to get her out of that damn car," the medic said. "We took her to Holy Cross. She had head injuries. Most likely internal ones. When we dropped her off, her pupils were still non-responsive."
I pulled out my phone, thumbing through my contacts.
"Strangest damn thing." the medic continued. "There was paint and summer sausage in the car. Weird combination."
Jeff snorted.
"That is weird. Was the patient young or old?"
"Early twenties, I think. State Police were handling the notification. Pretty girl. Face a little busted up from the airbag. Damn shame."
He rolled his shoulders, working out a kink.
"There was no missing the smell of alcohol on her," he finished.
Icy fingers trailed down my spine. There was no other way to explain it.
It's the same feeling, when people say, it feels like someone's walking over their grave.
My thumb stilled over my phone.
"What kind of car was it?" I asked.
The medic glanced in my direction.
"A Lexus. A dark gray or black one."
'No. No way.'
Those icy fingers fisted in my gut. For a moment, I couldn't move, and then I was standing, my finger hitting Mercedes' contact.
I walked away from the group, ignoring Jeff calling out my name.
Mercedes' phone rang until voicemail picked up.
Could be a coincidence?
It was late, so I called again.
No answer.
I called once more, this time leaving a message, telling her to call me.
My heart started racing as I turned around. The guys were staring at me.
"What...what did she look like?"
"I don't know," the medic said, frowning. "She was cute and..."
"What was the color of her hair?" I shouted.
Jeff rose.
"Evans, you okay?"
I stalked to the medic, my hand tightening around my phone.
"What was the color of her hair?"
The medic's eyes widened.
"It was dark and there was blood, but I think it was red in some parts."
The floor shifted under my feet.
My heart stopped in my chest.
I said something to them, I don't even remember what I said, but I turned and walked outside.
I called an older lady I knew, who was working in dispatch.
"Joyce?" I said, my voice hoarse. "It's Sam."
"Hey, sweetie, what's going on?" she asked.
"I...I need you to do me a favor, okay? I know it's asking a lot, but please. There was a call tonight. A single accident out on 495. A Priority 1 patient," I said. "Have they identified the passenger yet?"
"I believe so."
"What was her name?"
Joyce didn't answer immediately.
"Sweetie, you know I can't give out that kind of info."
I screwed my eyes shut and forced myself to take a deep, slow breath., as I paced in front of the open bay doors.
Jeff was nearby, but I couldn't pay attention to him.
"I know. I hate having to ask you this, but I think it's someone I know...someone I care about."
"Shit," muttered Jeff.
Joyce made a soft sound.
"Oh gosh, let me...let me see what I can find out. Okay? Can you wait for a moment?"
"Yes," I whispered.
That moment was the longest fucking stretch of time in my life, and I prayed during those moments.
'Please don't be Mercedes. Please.'
That's all I could think.
"You still there, Sam?" Joyce returned. "I just talked to the trooper. Next of kin has been notified, so I feel okay with telling you who it was. Her name is Mercedes Jones. She's..."
"God. It's her." I bent over at the waist. "It's her."
"Oh no, sweetie, I'm sorry..."
Joyce's voice faded out.
I didn't remember hanging up the phone, but suddenly Jeff was there, placing his hand on my shoulder.
I straightened and looked at him.
"Go," he said, before I could say a word. "Get out of here and let me know when you can, okay?"
I didn't wait. I sprinted across the parking lot and headed straight for my truck.
It was way passed visiting hours, when I showed up at Holy Cross, and it took a couple of minutes to find a nurse who knew me, and told me where to go, but warned, I wouldn't be allowed to see her.
She was in the Intensive care unit, just recently moved out of surgery.
Surgery.
As I rode the elevator up, I kept telling myself that it could still be a mistake. It had to be one. It couldn't be her. There was no way. It couldn't be her. She would never get behind the wheel of a car after drinking. It couldn't be her.
The doors opened and I stepped out into the quiet hall.
The nurses at the end didn't pay much attention to me, as I wheeled a right.
Maybe, it was because of my uniform, I didn't care. I just hurried down the chilled hall, looking above the windowless doors.
I came to the end and turned left.
My feet stopped, as if I'd stepped in cement.
Halfway down the hall, there was an older couple talking to a middle-aged doctor.
The man was tall, black hair, brown skin and the woman was shorter...much shorter, with familiar curves and familiar red highlights in her hair.
Both were upset as the doc reached out, clamping his hand on the man's shoulder.
I couldn't hear what was being said, but the doctor spoke again, and the woman's face crumpled, as she placed her hand over her mouth.
The hall spun, and I stumbled against the wall.
My gaze traveled to the room beyond them. The door opened and a nurse stepped out.
All I could see was a curtain and a hand...a brown, small hand and it wasn't moving.
I pressed the palm of my hand against my chest, as the door drifted shut.
Footsteps pounded up the hall, and I looked, recognizing the man, who was only about a year older than Mercedes...her brother, Roderick.
He didn't even see me as he rushed passed, his flip-flops smacking like cracks of thunder.
I leaned against the wall as it hit me...as it really slammed into me. Mercedes was in that room. And she was seriously hurt.
There was no point in hoping, there was some kind of mistake. It was her. And I couldn't do a damn thing to help her.
Pain lit up my chest, like someone had planted a fist in it.
My feet gave out and I slid down the wall, my ass hitting the floor.
I dropped my arms over my knees and just stared ahead.
It was her.
It was Mercedes.
Stay safe!