GOODBYE STRANGERS

A cluttered, dark room. The smell of cheap weed. A withered old woman sitting in a heap of trash, staring out into space, her whole family milling around her. There was something playing on the radio, too, but it was too quiet to make out the words.

It was early in the morning. How early, Squid wasn't sure. But early enough that the street lights were still the main source of light coming through the cracked windows, and there were still crusties in her eyes. Early enough that even if this was the most awesome call in the world, it wouldn't be very fun.

They were well past, "what happened?" and "when did this start?" The call-taker- a son or nephew or brother or husband, or whatever he was to her- had filled them in before they'd made the climb to the dingy third floor apartment. It had started two hours ago, and they believed that she had, "smoked too much weed and overdosed."

"This is bullshit," Squid had thought at the time. Then she said it out loud. She tried to contain herself because she was in front of the patient's family and because she didn't want to look bad in front of Doctor Isaac, but she just couldn't hold it in. "I see bullshit, I say bullshit! I'm sorry!"

Looking at the old lady from the door, sitting atop her pile of trash, there was a weird feeling in Squid's stomach. She didn't look really sick. She looked high. She glanced at her partners, Isaac and Bayen, for reassurance.

"Squid, Bayen, why don't you got on and get some vital signs? I'm going to take a minute here with the family," said Doctor Isaac. The two silently followed his directive and made their way to the patient's side. Squid let out a loud grunt as she knelt down, and threw the cardiac monitor and jump bag on the floor. The jump bag and all its contents made a fantastic crashing noise, like a sack full of cutlery. The monitor landed on its corner and punched through the rotting floorboards, lodging itself there. Bayen gave her the side eye.

"Careful with the monitor, dumbass. And don't kneel on the floor when you can squat," said Bayen. Squid stuck her tongue out at him in response, which he ignored. He waved at Doctor Isaac. "Want us to get a 12 lead?"

"That's affirmative! And get a blood-glucose too, please."

Bayen occupied himself exposing the patient's chest and placing the suction cup electrodes on her exposed skin. "Just gonna lift your shirt a bit here. I'll be quick," he muttered. When Bayen lifted her breast, he revealed a layer of gunk and crust. The patient made no indication that she heard or felt him at all. She didn't seem to be hearing, or seeing, anything that they were doing. The family continued to stand over them, watching with silent concern.

Squid unzipped the jump bag and removed a cuff and stethoscope and fumbled around with the cuff to get it around the patient's arm. She was tiny; a child sized cuff would've fit her better. She inflated the cuff up to 180 and put the stethoscope in the crook of the patient's arm.

"Dios Mio!" she said. The patient's pulse was strong, slow, and instantly audible. She readjusted her stethoscope and squeezed the cuff up until the noise disappeared- so tight that you could hear the velcro threatening to rip off- then slowly released the air from the bladder again. She had a hard time telling exactly when the pulse started pounding in her ears again, but the needle began jumping on the dial at around the 220 mark. And boy was it jumping! She hung her stethoscope around her neck and let the rest of the air out. "Hey, uh, Bay-man…"

As she looked up to finish her sentence, she saw the glowing green rhythm on the black screen of the heart monitor. An ugly, slow rhythm. 38 beats per minute. With each beat, the spike after the main complex- the "T Wave," Doctor Isaac had called it, was upside down and it was HUGE. It was so big and so warped that she couldn't even make out the different waves in the rhythm at first. She swallowed hard. The colors of the room suddenly became sharper, more vivid.

Bayen grabbed the patient by her shoulder and shook her. "You in there ma'am? Ma'am, are you in there? Hey guys, what's her name?"

The patient didn't react at all. She didn't slump over, but she didn't react either. There was something wrong with her eyes, Squid realized- one of them was bigger than the other. Way bigger. The pupil of her right eye was blown all the way up like she was high on jet or something, the other was normal sized. Her face looked a little weird too. It almost looked like she was wearing her face as a mask. She was definitely having a stroke. "Whitney? Alright, Whitney, can you hear us?"

Squid sidled up next to Bayen. She searched through the annals of her mind for something smart to say. She was pressed for time, but there had to be something worthwhile in there, something to add to the situation that Bayen hadn't already figured out, and which Doctor Isaac couldn't tell from across the room.

"Bayen, dude, she's fucked up," said Squid, after careful consideration. Bayen nodded solemnly.

"That's a hell of an insight Squid. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bay-man."

The heart monitor printer clicked and whirred as the strip printed out. Doctor Isaac squinted through his glasses to get a good look at it, then crinkled it up and shoved it into his coat pocket. He cleared his throat solemnly. The three clinicians locked gazes.

"She's light. Let's just get the family to help us carry her downstairs," said Bayen, addressing the elephant in the room. Squid gave him a nudge and a smile.

"What, you can't do a little rescue carry action? Not big and strong enough to throw meemaw over your shoulder? Don't tell me you can't carry her when you've got me bogged down with fifty pounds of gear." Bayen didn't dignify that with a response. He nodded one last time at everyone to make sure the plan was understood, then let Doctor Isaac stand up to address the family.

"Alrighty- we've done some tests, and it appears to be that Whitney is having an emergency. Can't say we know exactly what's going on-"

"Is Grandma gonna die?" asked this cute little girl, probably half Squid's age. There were like five kids tucked in amongst the teenagers and grown ups all crammed into this dirty apartment. Straight up generations on display. Sad stuff. Isaac was caught completely off guard.

"I… I mean. Like I said, we don't-"

"We're going to take your Grandma to a hospital where she's going to get the best care in the Mojave. This is a serious emergency but we're going to do everything we can for her," said Bayen, swooping in to rescue Doctor Isaac from himself. Isaac took a deep breath and nodded along.

"Right. Now, we need your help to get'er down these stairs safely. You ought to stick around afterwards, too. She's very sick- I'm sure she'd be happy to have family by her side."

Squid stood out of the way with all the kids as the able bodied people each grabbed one of " Whitney" 's limbs and started moving her down the stairs like an awkward piece of furniture. Some of the kids were crying, others were watching with bewilderment. Some clearly didn't know what was going on at all. One of them was tugging at Squid's shirt.

Squid could hear the song on the radio more clearly now. It was still quiet, but she could pick out all the notes now. It was kind of catchy. Before she broke through the crowd of kids and chased her squad down the stairs, she caught a few of the words:

Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane.

Will we ever meet again?

Noontime, noontime. Nothing of note. No lunch break either. Straight to another call. And then another. Now Squid and Bayen stood in the middle of the street, looking like morons as they stood with their stretcher and jump bag and no one to use it on. Their patient, a fresh corpse, hung from its neck out the window of a concrete ruin across the street. She had a big cardboard sign tied to her chest that said "YOUR GONE BEFORE YOU KNOW YOUR GONE." Most people gave them a wide berth, put off by the grim silhouette, but some tired souls just walked right under the dead lady like it was nothing. Some people were even drawn to it. ' You wanna see a dead body?' type of thing.

"I wonder how they stole her shoes," asked Squid. Bayen shrugged.

"Probably a stick with a hook. Someone my height could do it pretty easily."

That really irked Squid. She waved her "staff" at Bayen, a piece of rebar she'd found on the last call and which she'd been brandishing ever since. "Silence," she said. Bayen looked offended.

"Excuse me?"

"Silence! I wasn't speaking to you. I was merely thinking." Squid reached up on her tippie-toes to poke the dead lady's foot with her staff. She could only barely reach, but the body still moved when she poked it. It was fun in a ghoulish way. It was like poking a pinata.

Bayen snatched her staff away from her, rendering her powerless. Squid gasped. "What- What the hell Bay-man!? You wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick!"

"Oh yes I would!" Bayen looked away to hide a smile as he threw the staff away, but he wasn't fooling Squid. And as far as Squid was concerned that was victory. If she said enough stupid bullcrap she could make anyone break. Squid scurried to grab her staff, and Bayen didn't bother to stop her. "I keep telling you, you can do whatever vile shit you want off the clock! But when you're wearing that badge, you can't be like… poking womens' corpses and stuff. It makes us look bad."

Re-armed with her staff, Squid approached behind Bayen. "Okay, well, can I poke dumb jerks?" she asked and gave him a quick jab in the thigh, before returning to his side. He shrugged.

"It's discretionary."

"Fuck is discretionary?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what that word means, I know you do." Squid raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, you got me. Dumb jerk."

They both stared at the corpse a while longer. Squid tapped her staff against the hollow metal frame of the stretcher, which made a fun and musical sound. Eventually, she hopped up onto the stretcher and leaned against the jump bag like it was a seat cushion. The crowd continued to pass by in awkward non-acknowledgement. "You think this chick really hung herself? Or you think maybe someone stiffed her?"

Bayen almost laughed at the idea. "Well, if they were trying to make a big statement, I don't get it! And if they were trying to cover up the murder that would be… a lot more effort than just stuffing her body in a dumpster. And I mean, look at her," He pointed at the skin on the woman's arms and hands. Her veins were a weird shade of bluish-green, and even though she was young her deathly gray skin was covered in black and brown tumors and splotches. "She's clearly a local, too, so the only investigation would be from the Kings."

"Yeah. She's reppin' those mutant genes." Squid scratched at her own arm. She had the same weird veins, (though they stood out less against her brown skin) and she also had an abundance of moles and marks. "Maybe that's why she killed herself. All these pretty NCR squatters were making her feel bad about her gross body."

Bayen chuckled at the sheer absurdity of Squid's insult. "Wowwww. You just won't give her a break. How would you like it if it was you hanging up there, getting poked and insulted by your own neighbor?" Before giving Squid a chance to answer, he began to pace around. He was eyeing the building now, looking for the easiest way up. "Back to the subject at hand, this place is falling apart. I'm guessing she used those stairs to get up there, but there's a huge section missing. How do you think she got up?"

Squid took a look at the dilapidated building. She took a careful step through the open doorway and onto the crumbling steps.

"Careful," said Bayen. Squid waved him off.

"I'm being careful!" She peeked further inside. It was really dusty inside. The hanged woman had definitely gone this way, there were fresh footprints on the floor and handprints in the dust on the wall. Right at the first bend of the concrete staircase, a whole section was missing, with small chunks scattered all over the first floor and even out the doorway. It looked like the rest might come down after it if you so much as blew on it too hard.

"I'm not going up there," said Squid.

"Good, because I'm not letting you go up there," said Bayen. He was carrying the jump bag under his arm like it was a purse, and watching Squid from the doorway like she was might jump to her death at any moment. "Lets just go back outside, okay?"

Outside, standing under the corpse again, they were still no closer to getting her down. Still no closer to a lunch break . Squid's stomach was growling, begging for this call to be over, and yet their prospects were getting bleaker and bleaker. Squid jumped up and tried to grab her by the foot a couple times, but the effort was halfhearted; she wasn't a hoop-ball player. She knew didn't have the vertical jump to pull that kinda stunt.

"What we need is an A frame ladder," said Bayen, after watching a few of Squid's embarrassing hops. "Or really any tall object we can stand on. It doesn't even need to be that tall. Just tall enough that I can get up there and manipulate the rope to slide it off her neck, or cut it if it won't come off."

"When was the last time you saw a portable A-frame ladder, Bay-Man?" asked Squid. Bayen sighed.

"I haven't seen a portable A-frame ladder lately, Squid. I was just spitballing." He checked his watch. "We've been here for a while now. Do you have any better ideas? Because this is getting ridiculous."

"Well… We don't have a ladder, but I could like, stand on your shoulders and cut through the noose. I'm not even joking, I think that might work," suggested Squid. The two looked around at the crowd passing by, then quickly and silently washed their hands of the idea. Even with how desperate the situation was getting, that was a step too far.

"You know what I think we should do?" said Bayen.

"What?"

"I think we should clear the scene and go get lunch, and let someone else figure it out. We're medics. Not coroners."

Squid perked up. "Wait, really? No joke? You're not messing with me? We're actually just going to say screw it and go get food?"

"Yep. You need a break. I need a break. And walking away is definitely less embarrassing to the organization than publicly injuring or humiliating ourselves doing a job that no one asked us to do."

In an instant, Squid's frustration washed away. She didn't even care about the corpse hanging over her. Now that Bayen had brought up lunch it was all she could think about. In the back of her mind, there was a bit of guilt, too, that washed away. Bayen was on her side. Bayen understood. That felt amazing. She could've hugged him.

"By the way, do you remember what the radio song was?" asked Squid, as they set out towards the East gate Gecko-taco stand. Bayen looked over his shoulder.

"Huh?"

"The one that was playing on that first call. It was like 'hm hm hm hmm. Hm hm hmmM. Hm hm hm hm, hM hM hmmMMmM.' Do you remember what it was?"

Bayen squinted really hard. He ground his teeth a little bit. You could almost hear the computer terminal startup scroll playing as he searched through the databases of his mind. He unsquinted. "Nothing is ringing a bell. Sorry."

Squid shrugged. Oh well. They were still getting tacos. That was the important thing.

It was another cramped apartment. They were starting to blend together. The stairway was narrow, the ceiling was low. Bayen and Marwan were ducking on their way up. The heavy bags and heart monitor knocked against the walls on the way up, rattling all the way. It was so musty. It smelled so bad. And it was dark. Every few steps Squid would get tripped up.

On the way up people peeked their heads out from inside their rooms to look at them. They mumbled and pointed. The shining eyes in their warped faces glittered in the flickering light of the dim hallways. The walls were covered in graffiti. Every floor on the grim march up the stairway had at least one giant, gaping hole in it, like it might swallow you up and drag you straight to hell. It was like a nightmare. She just wanted it to end.

Breakfast hadn't happened. Lunch hadn't happened. Now Squid was missing dinner for this, but she was out of energy to complain. She just stared dead ahead and forced her body to keep moving. The stairs were steep and her body was small. Everyone else was climbing the steps, she was scaling them. Her legs started to ache and the equipment began to weigh heavy on her shoulders. It felt like it would never end.

"Just up here! Come on, just up here!" The caller ushered them inside. They filed one by one through the doorway, knocking their elbows and bags on the corners, and leaving the door hung half open behind them. The smell had changed to that of baked tatoes. There was some smoke in the air, but someone had opened up the window to let it out- a gentle breeze blew through the decrepit apartment, and the afternoon sun outside shone through the moth-bitten curtains to bathe everything in a warm golden light. There was a tube television with a holotape in it, playing a cowboy movie. It was like going from hell to limbo.

"He's- oh my god, please help him! He's even worse! Oh god, look at him!"

The patient was a fat old man and he looked awful. He was lying slumped over in his chair, across from the television, with vomit all over his shirt and pants. His dinner plate was scattered all over the floor. His arms were raised to his chest, and they were twitching rhythmically. His skin was gray. His chest was still. The crew rolled into the room, and Squid threw all the equipment down on the floor beside him. She rummaged around in the bag.

"I'll get vitals if you start bagging," said Squid unenthusiastically. Marwan stopped her.

"I am not sure we need them." He jammed his finger up against the patient's throat. The patient was gasping like a dying fish, his blue lips pursed up. His eyes were rolling around in the back of his head. After a few seconds, Marwan shook his head. "He has no pulse- these are death spasms. Start compressions."

The caller cried out in distress and retreated to the corner of the room, sobbing to himself and pulling at his hair as they dragged the patient's limp body onto the ground. His body made fleshy thud that shook the ancient floorboards. Bayen jumped on the patient's chest and started pumping. Squid rubbed her eyes.

"Guess I'm bagging," she muttered. She pulled the bag-valve-mask from out of the jump bag and sealed the cracked rubber mask around the patient's lard. As soon as Bayen gave her a chance, she gave a couple quick breaths. The valve made a horrible farting noise and the patient's chest didn't rise at all. She didn't say anything at first, but she looked at Bayen to make sure she wasn't going crazy. Bayen gave her a swift nod of acknowledgment as he banged out his next round of compressions.

"Remember, EC clamp. I don't think you're getting a good seal," he said. Squid shook her head.

"Seals good. I'm just getting shit compliance. Look!" She squeezed the bag two more times. It made that same flatulent noise. Marwan, who had been cutting the patient's shirt off, placing the monitoring electrodes and fishing around for a jugular IV, slapped Squid in the shoulder. He looked irritated.

"You would not know compliance if it bit you in your ass! Switch me places and tape off my IV."

The two switched places. Squid did as she was told, but she was really more focused on Marwan because she wanted to be vindicated. And she was- he squeezed the bag as hard as he could, and the patient's belly pulsed, then a bunch of chunky brown vomit spilled out into his throat and splattered against the inside of the mask. Bayen, ever the neutral party, didn't say anything. He just got back to compressing.

"I friggin' told you," said Squid, as they switched back. Marwan glared at her. He was reaching into the advanced life support bag.

"There is more to this. I think he has something stuck in there. Grab the suction, start sucking that vomit out of his airway, and I will try to remove the blockage."

"Should I hold compressions?" Asked Bayen. Marwan shook his head.

"No. Keep going until you cannot." He pointed at Squid, who was groping around for the suction device, then at the jump bag. He looked stern. "The suction is in the pocket with the blue tape. You should know that."

"Oh my god!" Squid slammed her fist against the monitor. "Shut the fuck up Marwan! I know!" She pulled out the suction, which was just a giant syringe with a rubber nasal airway stuck on the end, and started pulling the vomit out of the guy's mouth as Bayen splashed it around with his compressions. "It's not working, its too chunky. I swear, it's all day with this…"

Marwan had a pair of forceps now. He moved Squid out of the way, tilted the patient's head back, and peered down into their maw. He gave the forceps a few snaps before advancing them down into the throat. A vein stood out on Marwan's balding head as he fished deeper and deeper. His skin turned rosy, and sweat began to accumulate.

"Are you sure you don't want me to hold compressions for a sec? We're overdue for a rhythm check anyways" said Bayen. He seemed totally unbothered by the unexpected workout. Marwan huffed at him.

"No, no… keep going!" He twisted the forceps around, and shifted his weight to the side. Squid and Bayen gave each other a look. 'He's not going to get it, ' they said, with no words at all. Squid squirted her suction device out on the floor, and put her hand on Marwan's back.

"Hey Marwan, maybe-"

"I got it." Marwan raised the offending morcel up into the air. It was a giant, unchewed chunk of tatoe. Squid was suddenly reminded of the delicious smell in the air, and all the food on the floor. Marwan threw the throat-potato on the ground and Squid eyed the original half eaten food on the floor with a hungry, jealous look. At this point in the day, even that was looking appetizing. Suddenly food was all she could think about.

"Squid, finish suctioning what you can and resume bagging. I will check his pulse and rhythm in 30 compressions." Marwan pre-charged the defibrillator and put his fingers on the patient's carotid artery, where he'd taken the pulse before. The defibrillator made an obnoxious beeping noise that drowned out the cowboy movie on the TV. It gave Squid a headache. The vomit was still too thick for the suction device, and it didn't help that Bayen was splashing it around with his compressions. She scooped out what she could with her bare fingers, and then shook them off in disgust.

"Alright! Pulse check!" Said Bayen, jumping back off the chest. His skin was a little red and sweaty.

"I feel no pulse… oh." All eyes turned to the monitor. The screen displayed a course, wiggly line. Bayen leapt to grab the defibrillator paddles and slammed them against the patient's chest without so much as a 'clear!' The fat old man's body jerked violently. All his muscles spasmed at once. Immediately, Marwan hopped on the chest and started compressing. Squid put the mask back on his face and waited.

The patient was holding his arms up like a t-rex again, like he had been at the beginning, and his eyes were half open, rolling back in his head. Squid noticed, and wondered if maybe they'd gotten a pulse, but she didn't particularly care. He still looked awful, and he hadn't gotten any oxygen for a while. This probably wasn't a win either way.

Squid's knees hurt from kneeling. Her back hurt from bending over. Her head was pounding. She hated all the stupid noise- the beeping monitor, the cowboy movie, the incessant sobbing from the caller in the corner. It felt like it would never end. She kept squeezing the bag, staring at his chest and belly flopping up and down, watching the vomit spill out the edges of his mouth. He gurgled every time she squeezed.

Eventually Marwan swapped places with Bayen on the chest. He grabbed something out of his bag and moved Squid out of the way. "I should have done this immediately," he said, laryngoscope in one hand and endotracheal tube in the other. He missed the intubation and pulled back on the first pass, but nailed it on the second. With the tube in place, they didn't even have to pause any more, so Squid let herself zone out completely and fall into rhythm. She just squeezed her bag and stared into space. Images of street tacos and gecko kebabs flitted through her aching head.

"Pulse check… what do you feel?" Grunted Marwan. He had taken back over for Bayen once he got the tube, for some reason. Bayen clicked the button to pre charge the defib and put his finger on the pulse. When the compressions stopped, and the rhythm read clear, he nodded.

"He's got a good strong pulse, and it matches the number on the monitor. And look, he's moving his legs…" Sure enough, the patient was slowly moving his legs up towards his chest. His mouth twitched around the endotracheal tube, and his eyes remained rolled back in his head, eyelids flitting. Bayen was smiling. Not much, but a little. "I've never gotten a pulse back Before."

"Me neither," said Squid. She tried to smile, but it just wasn't happening. She smiled like a stroke victim, all lopsided, and went back to bagging. "How are we getting him out of here? Besides pushing his lard ass down the stairs, I don't have any ideas."

"Wait, oh my god, you're saying he's alive? I can help you carry him!" said the caller, running to join in on the huddle. Squid wanted to yell at him to be quiet or to go away, but she couldn't even muster up the energy to be mean. Bayen waved him back.

"Negatory! Sorry, the four of us are not getting him safely downstairs. You can help by hitting that call button again and telling them we need more hands. Or if you have some strong friends who live here, get them!"

The caller ran off down the stairs. The patient started choking and gagging on the tube. He was moaning now, and flicking his arms in the general direction of his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Marwan reached into the advanced life support bag to draw up a vial of morphine, and shot it into the patient's jugular IV. There was a bag of saline lying on the floor and someone had spiked it, but no one had plugged it into the IV or hung it on anything yet. The smell of baked tatoes was entirely gone now, replaced with the underlying smell of shit, mold and vomit. The wind had gone still.

Overwhelmed by the hopelessness and gravity of the situation, Squid just kept squeezing her bag. The patient was breathing a little, but not very well, so she timed out his breaths and boosted each one like Doctor Usanagi had taught her. The patient still looked like death. He might die right here on the floor before they could figure out how to get him downstairs, or on the long and dangerous way down. What was even their plan for managing him in the narrow hallway while carrying him down?

This was never going to end. This was just going to keep going forever. When they were finally done with this smelly, dark and disgusting shithole, they'd barely have time to restock. Then before they could eat, it would be another dark and disgusting shithole, and then another. And another. And they'd never save anyone for real…

Squid stared out the window. She wondered how the pavement felt, seventy feet below.

At the end of the day- well, at the end of night, things weren't so bad. Squid was finally eating a real, hot meal, sitting on a curbside with Bayen and drinking Sarsaparilla. Normally such an awful day would've killed her appetite but today she was making up for three missed meals. She was wolfing that shit down, that gecko taco goodness, like it was going to bring her dead mama back. Her hands were covered in disgusting grease and it made her so happy.

Squid set her Taco down on her leg for a minute. She was relaxed, she was relaxing, listening to the static on the Follower's radio channel and letting the worries of the day blow away into the warm summer night. But there was still something off. All the pieces were in place for a good night and yet she knew that if she finished her food, said goodnight to Bayen right now, and went to bed, she'd be up tossing and turning all night.

Squid picked up her taco again, and took another bite. It was delicious. It was heartwarming bliss. She'd spent all day trying to get that meal in, and that quest was now fulfilled in the best way possible. But the taco wasn't enough.

"Hey Bay-Man?" Her heart fluttered a little bit. She didn't expect it to be this hard. "Can I ask you about some heavy stuff?"

Taco still clenched firmly in his hands, Bayen turned to look at Squid. He had a bewildered expression, like he'd just spotted someone reeling up to throw something at his head. "Um," he said. He took a deep breath in through his nose. "Yeah. Yeah, of course Squid. Wanna talk about a call?"

Squid shrugged. "Its not just one call. But on that last one, you know, I'm out here bagging and stuff. It should be exciting, right? but my head's not in the game. I wasn't thinking about it all- I'm still not," said Squid. She pointed at her meal. "I saw the forbidden throat-potato, and the food on the floor. And it made me think about this taco, and how I was gonna get it. I swear, its all I could think about."

Bayen laughed. "That's nothing. You were tired and hungry, man. Don't beat yourself up for being a little bit 'out of it'. Marwan was just being a dick because he was focused. He can get a little spicy when he's in that mode," said Bayen. Squid ground her teeth.

"No. That's still not… ugh!" Squid took her shirt collar in her hand and buried her face in it. She took a deep breath, then peaked back out. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that my feelings were just like, turned off. Completely. I was living it but I wasn't feeling it. I didn't care about the old lady either, or the hanged girl, or anyone else today. I was just thinking about how tired and hungry I was all day frickin' long. When we got a pulse back, and you were happy, I just wasn't. Not even a little bit. I didn't feel anything."

Bayen leaned back to take all of that in. He wasn't expecting that, clearly. His mouth hung open, but no words came out for a few seconds as the gears in his head spun round and round. "Well," he said, eventually, "I know how you feel. You know what it means to be desensitized?"

"Yeah! Well, sorta. I'm just saying like, I used to hurt, right? I was so messed up when that pregnant girl died. Remember that? It wasn't even that long ago. I thought I was gonna go crazy, I had nightmares of that happening to me. But today was full of sad stuff and I don't even remember half of it now. And I literally don't care at all. Like, honestly, I don't want to know what happens to that guy, if he gets discharged from the ICU or not." Squid picked at her grimy yellow fingernails. They were bitten down to the very edges. For the first time in the conversation, Squid looked into Bayen's eyes. He looked like he was ashamed. "Is something wrong with me, Bayen?"

"No. Nothing is wrong with you." Bayen placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward, like he was letting her in on a big secret. He glanced back to make sure no one was listening, and spoke sort of quietly. "So look, I'm not really a… feelings guy. But this happens to all of us. If we got sad about every dead patient and worried about every uncertainty, we would go crazy. We'd end up like miss-cardboard-sign from earlier, hanging from a window. So we gotta build up barriers, we have to numb ourselves a little bit. But our brain already does that for us. Our brain knows what it can and can't handle. That's what desentization is, and dissociation. That's cool, right?"

Squid nodded uncertainly. "Right."

"You have to accept it. It doesn't always work, so be grateful when it does. You don't want to bring the sad stuff home with you. That's like bringing your dirty clothes into bed with you when you went into a house with bed bugs. Being able to just totally blur that stuff out while you're on scene, and not feel anything afterwards, is amazing. Do you feel me?"

"I feel you."

He gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder. "Right on. I know it feels bad that you don't feel bad, but I promise, you're in good company. Welcome to the club." He took a swig of sarsaparilla. "Mm. How old are you again?"

"Almost thirteen," said Squid. Bayen shook his head.

"Yikes. You're way too young to have your brain hurt like this. You should be out playing with the other kids, or reading a book-"

"I do read books! I'm hooked on the book!"

"Alright. Well, my other point stands, I don't see you playing with other kids."

"That's cause I don't like the other kids."

"Maybe you should get to know them."

"Maybe Freeside should get cooler kids."

Bayen rubbed his head with his palm. "Squid, we're getting way off track here. What I was trying to say is that, even though this is all normal, you do need to be careful. Some of the stuff you were saying sounds like stuff that people say when they've let it get too far, and they've gotten burnt out. You can't let that happen to you," he said. Squid had a visceral response to that. She might have actually convulsed a little.

"Well what the hell do I do instead!? I gotta do something so you guys keep me around! You know I hate staying at Tata's place," said Squid, on edge once more. Bayen gestured for her to calm down, like she was a dog or something.

"Hey. I know this feels like home for you. I know you love spending time with us at Fort Mormon, and you know we care about you too. You're one of us at this point."

"Don't say that," said Squid, almost before he could finish. Bayen continued.

"But this first response stuff, you don't have to prove anything by going on all these calls non-stop. You're a twelve year old girl. You're here to learn, not work. If you stop responding to these calls, other people will notice, and someone will pick up. The system won't collapse. No one will be mad at you. No one will blame you." He took a deep breath. He was really trying right now. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she wasn't having it. "You work so hard and I'm so proud of you for that. But you gotta limit yourself. No one should be getting burnt out at 12."

Squid's heart stood still. "You're proud of me?" she asked. Bayen smiled warmly.

"Of course I'm proud. I know I seem like a jerk sometimes, but you're doing amazing. You have a strong clinical instinct and you're always trying to learn."

Squid scratched her chin. "That's kinda gay Bayen," she said, after a few seconds of quiet contemplation. Bayen might have actually gasped before he jabbed her with his elbow and started laughing. "Are you gay? Cause it's alright if you're gay. We're cool with that sort of thing in Freeside."

"Alrighttttt. Screw you. Conversation over. Maybe there is something wrong with you after all."

The two went back to work on their tacos. But before they could take another bite, the emergency tones on the radio went off, and the crackly voice of Doctor Alvarez broke through the static. Squid's heart dropped.

'Clark Count Dispatch to Freeside EMS… we've got a priority 3 BLS call, patient called for themselves. 27 year old female, states that her, uh, vagina is burning and she cannot walk-'

Bayen switched the channel. The dispatch information washed away, and was replaced by pre-war jams. "We're out of service for tonight. Someone else can deal with that." He raised his Sarsparilla as if to cheers. "Here's to surviving this stupid job."

They clinked, and polished off what was left of their sodas. Their tacos were almost finished too. While Squid prepared to finally put hers out of its misery, she realized that she'd heard the song on the radio before, and recently. It tugged at her soul in a familiar way.

Goodbye Stranger, it's been nice;

Hope you find your paradise!

Tried to see your point of view,

Hope your dreams will all come true

Squid nearly jumped off the curb as she pointed at the radio. "That's the one! That's the song!" she cried. Bayen coughed.

"What?" he asked, through a mouthful of taco. Squid gave the radio a few energetic slaps and turned up the volume.

"The song I was trying to find, the one that was playing earlier. That's it! Do you know what it's called?" Bayen shook his head. "Whatever, I'll figure it out later. Man, that's awesome!" Squid laid back in the dead grass and stared up at the starry sky. For the first time that day, she felt real, genuine warmth in heart. She couldn't help but grin. "At least one good thing came out of all this."

Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane,

Will we ever meet again?

Feel no sorrow, feel no shame.

Come tomorrow, feel no pain…