Page 58 of Protecting What's Mine
Here, eighteen hundred feet in the air, she was confident in her abilities and herself. Much more so than in the little exam room staring down a case of sinusitis and getting-to-know-yous.
“EMTs say there’s some trouble on the ground. Belligerent, drunk passenger. They’re trying to get the patient on a spine board,” Sally warned matter-of-factly through the headset.
Mack glanced at Bubba. His hulking frame was crammed in the corner, triple-checking the plasma inventory. “You ever work as a bouncer, Bubba?” she asked him.
“Always wanted to.”
“This might be your chance if the guys on the ground need a hand.”
“Yippie-ki-yay.”
THEY WEREon the ground less than a minute later in a grassy green pasture. The land’s inhabitants, a dozen cows, crowded against the pretty-as-a-picture white fence several hundred yards away from the flying invader.
Mack could see the rescue vehicles and mangled wreckage of a pickup truck wrapped around the stalwart base of an oak tree on the other side of the country road.
“Let’s give ’em a hand,” she said, grabbing her med kit.
She and Bubba climbed down and ran low across the grass. They took the four feet of fence in stride. Mack scrambled over it like she was back in basic training. Bubba hopped it like a cowboy. Together, they made a beeline for the crowd of paramedics crouched around a prone victim.
Almost every accident scene had the same players. The fire department was there working on clean-up. Witnesses, most likely the farmer’s family, clustered around a big, dusty truck in the field near the scene. A handful of other spectators out for an evening cruise were pulled off on the side of the road watching. A police cruiser was just pulling up to the scene.
And there was Linc. He was in gear and set up as incident command, throwing her a smug smile and a little salute.
She nodded her acknowledgement and elbowed her way into the circle. They were up against a low guard rail. On the other side, the road gave way to a steep, ten-foot drop-off down to a creek.
“What have we got, guys?”
“Female. Twenty-five. Head versus steering wheel. Unconscious. Possible neck and spine injuries. Witnesses say the idiot pulled her out of the car.”
“Fuck.” Mack was succinct.
“Yep,” the female paramedic on her right agreed.
“Get off my girlfriend!” The man, still practically a kid, was stinking drunk…and quite possibly high on something. He was missing a canine tooth and had inch-wide holes in his ear lobes. His ball cap had seen better days fifteen years ago. Skinny and mean.
Mack had dealt with enough of his type to know that addressing him wasn’t worth it.
He tried to push his way into the circle, but Bubba hauled him back out. One of Linc’s crew stepped in to help.
“Stay over there, man. The sheriff needs a word,” Bubba said, pointing at Sheriff Ty Adler as the man approached.
“Fuck!” the drunk screamed, unhinged. “Fuck me!”
Mack ignored him. They ran through the patient’s vitals while stemming the flow of blood from her head wound. She had blonde hair turning pink at the roots.
She picked up pieces of the story while assessing injuries. Fighting with drunk boyfriend. Boyfriend grabbed the wheel and put them head-on into the tree. No airbags.
Another avoidable disaster. That pissed her off.
“Let’s get her on the board, guys. We gotta get her out of here. On three,” Mack ordered.
“I’m tellin’ ya. Leave ’er alone!” Skinny screeched.
“I’m gonna need you to calm down, son,” the sheriff insisted.
Mack slipped around to the patient’s other side, putting her back to the guardrail.
“One. Two. Three.” In unison, they team-lifted the girl and slid her carefully onto the board.
