Page 101 of Prove You Wrong

‘Hey, Nate.’ The dispatcher’s voice is serious. ‘It’s a category one. We need a transfer between Princess Regal Hospital and Oldton Park General.’

‘No problem. Consider it done.’

They hand over some more details and sign off with a ‘Ride safe.’

Having already grabbed my helmet, I give Scott a wave as I head for the door. He knows the deal when I’m on call. Watching me from the pub doorway, his face is grim, one hand raised. He hates it when I ride in the dark.

I’d intended to tell him my news tonight, something huge that only Chunk knows, but that’ll have to wait.

I ride over to the storage garage to swap my Kawi for the Blood Bike branded BMW RT. The garage is quite close to Oldton Park General, my local hospital, which means less time spent fucking around and more time for the job.

Completing the safety checks, I have everything I need, including a torch and a spill kit in the top box. Thank fuck in the five years I’ve been volunteering for blood bikes, I’ve never needed to usethat.

I’d signed up as a way to try and buy back some good karma, settle some dues with the health service, maybe even get some credit. I’d never anticipated the community who’d embrace me or the feeling of fucking purpose I’d get. Being involved with blood bikes has helped save me as much as I’ve helped them.

With a hi-vis jacket over my leathers, I’m ready.

The journey to Princess Regal, a large city hospital just under an hour away, is uneventful apart from a legion of screaming ambulances on the other side of the road heading to where I’d just come from. Something must have gone down. Prickles domino along my spine.

I cruise at the speed limit. Seeing such a convoy of emergency responders has had a sobering effect, and I can’t explain why I feel kind of twitchy.

An unexpected call comes in via the comms set in my helmet.

‘Everything okay?’ I ask, concern furrowing my forehead. Sometimes they call with a diversion, but not when I’m already on an urgent job.

‘Just a courtesy to say we have another category one — ’

My eyes flick to the time on my sat nav screen. ‘I’m concerned on time for that one. This is already going to be tight.’

‘Same pick up point, same destination.’ The dispatcher’s voice crackles. ‘Just to advise you there will be two handovers.’

‘Two. Understood. Thanks.’

The night’s getting busier and I have a sinking feeling it’s not going to slow down.

The crew at The Princess Regal Hospital are pros, and soon, the paperwork is handled and I’ve stowed whatever’s in the bags safely, one in each pannier. We never usually know what we might be carrying, it could be anything from medication to tissue samples.

Now it’s back to Oldton Park General to make the delivery. Clock’s ticking.

I’m allowed to park in the drop off zone right by the entrance, which is a relief as the car park seems to be heaving. There’s a weird vibe around the place.

A person from Theatres is waiting for me in reception, bouncing on their toes. They grab their parcel and sign the appropriate slip, before leaving in a flash with a thanks thrown back over their shoulder. Holding my yellow copy of the paperwork, a little buzz flares in my chest, knowing what I’ve done may have helped save a life.

Next, to drop off the other package to the surgical unit. I take the quickest route to the ward, sprinting the stairs two at a time as I know the lift is slow.

A nurse with a familiar face greets me. Although I don’t know his name, I must have delivered stuff to him before.

As he signs for the package, he says, ‘Thanks, man. This is a relief you got it here so quickly.’

‘No problem.’ I pass him his copy of the paperwork. ‘What’s the deal out there tonight? Full moon or something?’

‘Didn’t you hear about it on the news?’

‘I don’t listen to anything when I’m riding. What’s going on?’

‘A&E is heaving. Multivehicle pile up. Helluva mess.’ He shakes his head.‘Word is it’s ten teens, all local. Three walked away. Two were airlifted off to I don’t know where. The rest handled here. Had to send one of our team down as an extra pair of hands.’

My mind flicks to the parade of ambulances I’d passed earlier and a sick feeling gnaws in my stomach.

---