MOMMA MIA
by ardavenport
- - - Part 2
The squad pulled up to the accident scene, siren winding down. They stopped behind the black Chevy, its left front rammed into a telephone pole on the narrow one-way street. There was a large truck, the trailer sitting diagonally across the street but it did not appear to be damaged. A Sheriff's deputy, Stan Whitmore, walked up to them as they got out.
"Looks like this guy tried to get around the truck as he was pulling out." Whitmore pointed toward a driveway at the back of a large white-painted building. "And he didn't quite make it. The left side door is bent, but you can get in on the right. The guy's unconscious over the steering wheel. We didn't want to move him until you got here. We've already called an ambulance."
Roy took out the biophone. "Is the truck driver hurt?"
Stan shook his head. "No. We just took his statement. And he rig's wedged in on this street until we get this car out of here. Tow truck's on the way."
They all looked as Engine Fifty-One turned onto the street a few blocks away, siren blaring.
Roy and Johnny went to the car. They did not smell any gasoline. Opening the front passenger door, Johnny slid in next to the driver, slumped over the bloody steering wheel. The shatter pattern on the windshield plainly showed where his head had impacted. Johnny ran hin fingers down his neck, under the long dingy blond hair and collar of the blue and gray plaid shirt.
"He's got a pulse." Strong and steady. "Sir? Sir?" He spoke loudly, his head level with the driver's. The Engine siren cut out as it stopped behind the squad. Roy called out to them.
"Mmmmmmmmm."
"Sir? Sir?"
"Uuuuh-mmmmmmm." He shifted his leg and raised and hand.
"Sir, please don't move." Johnny put his hand on the back of the victim's head. "Sir, you've been in an auto accident. Sir, can you hear me?"
"Mmmmm, wha, what, happin?"
"Sir, you've been in an auto accident. I need to know where you're hurt. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"
"Mmmmmmm, wha, wha, who'r'you?" His head moved weakly under Johnny's hand.
"Sir, I'm a paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department. I need you to keep still. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"
"Mmmmm, ma head."
"Your head? Are you hurt anywhere else? Did you hurt your neck?" Johnny's hand moved from his head to his neck, then lightly touching his shoulders. No other obvious injuries.
"Mmmmmm, uuummmm, nooo."
"All right, I'm going to lean you back slowly, here." He eased the man's head back. Blood had soaked his hair, run down his face. He looked maybe twenty-five, no more than thirty. His eyes blinked open. Johnny pushed his hands down. "Now, I've gotta ask you to keep still. Don't touch your face, you've got a cut here." Taking his pen light out, he shined it in the man's eyes. They responded to the light but the left pupil was larger than the right. He reached for the BP cuff that Roy had left on the seat for him.
By the Engine, Roy finished filling in the others on what they had. They could get the victim, but they would need help getting him onto the back board. Captain Stanley and Chet Kelly jogged to the car with Roy while Marco Lopez double-checked it for any gas leeks. Johnny was taking the man's vital signs. Roy opened the biophone and called the hospital.
The man's name was Chuck Gilroy. He had a few bruises but the head injury seemed to be the only major thing. It was serious, but his vitals were stable. With Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez helping, they carefully lowered him onto the backboard and eased him out of the car. After the ambulance arrived, Captain Stanley made Engine Fifty-One available.
They were loading Chuck onto the ambulance stretcher when an older man called out from the sidewalk.
"Chuck? What's going on?"
Both paramedics turned to look his way, Johnny holding up the IV bag. He looked like he was in his late fifties with short gray hair and wrinkled face, wearing off white pants, dark shirt, pale gray cloth jacket. And a fishing hat.
"What happened? What did you do, Chuck?"
Chuck groaned. "Ooooooh, noooo."
"Sir, do you know him? Are you a friend?"
The man squinted back up at Roy. "Damn right. I'm his uncle. I told him to let me out a half a mile ago. Told him I'd rather walk than ride in that car with him. He was driving like a manic." He smugly sneered at the wreck, smashed into the telephone pole. "Looks like things didn't go so good after all. Mmm, hmm."
Chuck groaned again. Johnny looked at him carefully, but it didn't look like it was physical pain that was bothering him now.
"Well, Sir, you can ride with him up front in the ambulance to the hospital." Roy put a hand on his shoulder and steered him in that direction.
"I guess I better do that. Have to call my sister and tell her what a damn fool her son is."
Chuck groaned again as they loaded him into the ambulance.
- - - End Part 2