A/N: Shortest chapter in Kelmin history..
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Chapter 6: At First Glance
"You know, Roy, I have a feeling that this kind of thing is gonna happen more, and more, and more."
"What kind of thing did you have in mind specifically?"
"Hello? That run we just finished? I mean, there was no reason—no reason at all—why that lady needed an ambulance to the hospital. Sure, she needed to get there eventually, since those stitches were definitely infected, but in an ambulance?" Johnny shook his head. "I mean, it goes back to what I've been saying for a long time, about how this stuff takes us away from the real emergencies. People have no common sense. None at all. I mean, why do you think she called an ambulance, Roy?"
Roy kept his eyes on the road. "You wanna know what I think?"
"Well, I did just ask, so yeah, Roy, I do."
"I think she doesn't drive, and her insurance will pay for an ambulance, but not a cab."
Johnny pondered that hypothesis for a moment.
"Oh," he said.
"So it's not necessarily about common sense," Roy said. "At least not in this case. She's elderly, sick, isolated, can't drive, and doesn't have the money for a cab. But her insurance will pay for the ambulance, so that's what she does."
"Oh," Johnny said again. "I guess I never thought of it that way."
"Don't get me wrong," Roy said. "Even though the system is flawed in ways that make people do things like that because they don't feel like they have a choice, there are still plenty of people who work the system to their own advantage. Take for instance the—"
BEEP BEEP BEEP! "Squad 51, respond to 3374 Griffin Street, for a child in seizures. 3-3-7-4 Griffin Street, cross street Love. Time out 1457."
Roy and Johnny put on their helmets, Johnny's chin strap dangling as always. Roy flipped the lights and siren on, and they made a quick U-turn to head towards their call location. Three minutes later, they pulled in front of the house, leaving the driveway open for the ambulance. They grabbed their first-in equipment, and headed to the front door, which was immediately opened by a young woman.
"Please hurry! I don't know what happened—she just started jerking and twitching, and I was so scared!"
The woman led them to the living room, where a girl who appeared to be about two and a half was lying listlessly on the carpeted floor.
Johnny and Roy froze as they got their first glimpse of the child's face. Her unfocused eyes had deep, dark circles around them, making her eyes look like those of a raccoon.
"I'll go get the trauma box and a c-collar," Johnny said, turning on his heel and fleeing the room. He exited the home, and opened the compartment on the squad where they kept the items he unexpectedly needed. He leaned against the side of the squad to compose himself for a moment before returning to the home. He hadn't gotten a good look at any other injuries the child might have, but the raccoon eyes were a classic sign of a skull fracture, which could certainly account for the seizure activity. And the mother hadn't said a thing about the bruising. Not a word.
Johnny sighed and spun around, carrying his load of equipment with him. Their job was to take care of their patient; the cops and Child Protective services would undoubtedly do their best to take care of the rest of the problem. He entered the house again, hating what he knew he would see when he walked in the door.
Johnny froze as he re-entered the living room, and his jaw dropped.
The mother was holding the child, and Roy was smiling. The biophone was set up, and Roy had clearly already been in touch with Rampart.
"Ten-four, fifty-one. Transport when ready, and try to get that temperature down on your way."
Huh?
Johnny set his boxes of supplies down on the floor and approached slowly.
"Magic marker," Roy said. "She got hold of a purple marker, and colored circles around her eyes. And her belly button. And drew lines down each of her toes. Very artistic child."
Johnny stood there, jaw hanging open.
"Her temperature had just risen from 102 to 104," Roy continued. "So Dr. Early is fairly confident that it was a febrile seizure, but wants us to bring her in anyhow."
Johnny looked at the child again. At second glance, and from close up, it was completely obvious that the marks had nothing to do with trauma—except for possibly the shock of a lifetime when the mother discovered her toddler with the marker.
Flashing lights shone through the filmy living room curtains.
"There's the Mayfair rig," Roy said. "Why don't you go let them in, since you're not doing anything else right now."
Johnny nodded, and turned to head to the front door.
"He doesn't talk much, does he?" the woman asked.
"Ma'am, you have no idea," Roy said.
TBC
A/N 1: So many things are different now. We always wear our seatbelts on a response, but never our helmets (they are so heavy that sudden deceleration while wearing a modern helmet would really damage your neck). We often don't respond with lights and sirens; they always did. But people still call an ambulance to get a free ride to the hospital—and the system is broken in new and different ways. But one thing is still the same: what you see on your first glance might not be the right picture.
A/N 2: Inspired by real life. When I was three, I apparently had a great time with a marker, and then proceeded to pass out in a hypoglycemic episode. My mother was mortified to carry me into the ER in the hospital where my father worked, looking like someone had just pounded the living daylights out of me.