Page 6 of Confined Space

"Calm down. Here are the paramedics now," JoAnna says. She moves away, but I can still hear her voice.

"He ran the stop sign and plowed into the passenger side. Her left arm appears twisted. She has a head injury. There’s a baby in a car seat in the back middle. Her name is Coral, and she said the baby’s name is Archer." I can't hear what else is said as she must have moved away.

"Hello, I'm Lieutenant Murphy. My team and I are going to get you out of there. Is your name Coral?" a deep voice says as a shadow falls over the windshield. The man is extremely tall and completely outfitted in firefighter gear. He's got a strong jaw surrounded by a scruffy beard and mustache. I can't see much more of him through the shattered windshield.

"Yes." I nod but stop when pain shoots through my body.

"Don't move, please. Do you know what day of the week it is and where you are?"

I know he's only asking these questions to make sure I'm not too concussed.

"It's Friday, and I was getting ready to pull into my son's daycare before I headed to work. I'm in Prominence Point."

"Good. Is there anyone I can have the officer call for you?”

"No, there is no one."

I don't want to worry Georgia, so I don't give her info. Plus, I can’t think of her number right now, and I'm not sure where my phone is. Last I saw it, it was on the passenger seat.

"What about your son's father? I'm sure he'll want to make sure he's okay. Or a boyfriend?" He pushes.

"There is no one." Why does everyone assume it can't just be Archer and me?

"Okay, sorry, ma'am. My mom, JoAnna, was able to reach into the back and give the little guy his pacifier, but he's going to start getting upset if he thinks you’re upset. Plus, the loud noises are going to bother him if we can't get him out without using the cutter. I need you to remain calm. Okay?”

"Please just make sure he's okay," I beg him.

"Let me get a paramedic to see if they can reach for him after the car is stabilized."

"Please hurry."

* * *

Rowdy

I take in the scene when we pull up. My mom moves away from the driver’s side that is pressed into a large metal light pole. The large truck that hit the car is empty. There’s no one in the driver’s seat and the door is sitting open, the engine still running.

"Someone check the status on that pole. Grigg, you're going to cut the battery cables. Remember from the side because the shocks in the bumpers didn't deploy and they still could. Johns, you and Palin will chuck the vehicle." I give orders before I jump out and walk over to my mom. She gives me the rundown of the driver and infant in the car. I pull her away so I can question her more without scaring the woman.

"Did you see the other driver?" I look around, trying to see if they are sitting on the curb.

"He ran off when I stopped my car and got out. Rowdy, he didn't stop. He just plowed right into her. Poor thing is so scared for her baby."

"Thanks, Ma. I'll take it from here. You need to back off now."

"But, Rowdy, she's so scared, and she's just a child herself."

"Ma, I know you're worried, but me and my guys have got this. Go over there and wait for an officer to come interview you." I gently turn her body away from the scene and direct her to sit on the curb out of the scene area.

When I walk up to the front of the car, I notice that my team has already started chucking the tires with cribbing to keep it stabilized. The battery has been disconnected and the airbags didn't deploy. The car model is a bit older, but it should be equipped with airbags on the driver and passenger sides, and I'd bet my whole Marvel Funko collection they are first generation ones.

"Okay, team, we have live airbags. Be careful," I instruct.

Stepping to what's left of the front corner panel by the pole, I lean over and look through the spider-webbed windshield. A pair of bright-blue eyes filled with fear stare back at me, causing something in my chest to pull. Her hair is pulled back, but some wisps have escaped. Her bangs are thick and hang across her forehead with blood drying in them. There’s more blood on her face. She is trying to stay still, but the tears rolling down her face tell me how scared and hurt she is. How her motherly instinct to get to her baby is fighting with her too.

I go through introducing myself, trying to keep her calm. When she keeps pointing out her fear for her child, I reassure her. She's so little. She can't be more than eighteen. I ask her if the police can call anyone for her, and she responds with a firm no. When I ask about the baby's father or a boyfriend, she gets a spark in her eye that kind of turns me on. I don't want to pop a woody in my bunker gear over an underage girl. I didn't have to ask about the boyfriend, but I wanted to know. Fuck, maybe I should give up this self-proclaimed sabbatical and get laid if this teenager is turning me on.

"Please tell me, is my son okay? Just take care of my son," she begs, her voice cracking. Her full lips look pillowy soft, and I shake my head to get back in the game.

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