Dearest Penguin People.
This is the beginning of Part II of Max and Sebastian. New characters are introduced, including my favorite. He will be familiar to those of you who have read my stand alone stories, Larry and Armadillo Annie. Consider this a prequel to those stories :)
When we left off in Chapter 8, hints were given of Max and Sebastian’s true natures and Sebastian learns that Max is in danger from an evil spirit named Buttercup.
If you are new to Max and Sebastian please click the link below…
As always a special thank you to P.Q. Rubin for the little penguin guy above…
Part II - CHAPTER NINE
Drizzle coated the ambulance windshield. Eve peered out into the gloom as wipers smeared the water droplets against the glass.
Dispatch crackled over the airwaves. “Two Twelve, move up in service, beginning of shift.”
Eve scanned the dreary parking lot, her partner nowhere in sight. She picked up the mic. “Two Twelve, delayed, medic getting supplies.”
The dispatcher cleared his throat with the angry rasp of a life-long smoker. Eve imagined the vein throbbing in his forehead as he bit back what he really wanted to say. Then, “Two Twelve expedite. Advise when in service. Code 3’s holding.”
The door to Dispatch, a small square building, catty-corner to the supply building, remained closed. If she waited much longer that door would open. She rested her chin on the steering wheel. “Come on, Fiona,” she whispered.
The supply door edged open and her partner inched out. She stood in the dark courtyard, shrouded in mist. It took everything in Eve to not hit the horn. After an excruciating moment, Fiona walked back inside.
Eve stomped across the lot. She found Fiona sitting on the supply counter. “We’ve got calls holding.”
It was obvious Fiona couldn’t give a rat’s ass. “I’m waiting for a new monitor,” she said.
“I’ve got one in the truck, it’s fine.”
“I want the new model; the old one sucks.”
“We’re getting slammed out there.”
Fiona exchanged a disgusted look with the supply clerk. He rolled his eyes back as he replaced batteries in the heart monitor with slow, deliberate movements.
A familiar tightness coiled in Eve’s neck and back. At this point she had enough knots in her shoulders to make a boy scout proud. She spoke into the radio, “Two Twelve in service.”
“Two Twelve, copy Code 3.”
“Two Twelve.” Eve left the building. She heard the slam of the monitor on the counter behind her.
“Two Twelve, copy Code 3, unknown medical at the city park on Fifth and Wisteria. FD on scene.”
“Two Twelve responding.” Eve was in the driver’s seat. Fiona threw the monitor in the back and slammed the door behind her.
“You’re not coming up front?” Eve asked.
No answer.
“Suit yourself.” Eve pulled out of the lot, lights flashing.
From the back she heard Fiona scanning the fire department channels. The low intonations of firefighter medics punctured the static.
“MVC on First and Tenth.”
A pause then an arrogant drawl, “Checckkk.”
Fiona continued to flip through the channels. Then a young medic’s voice, “Lieu, we’re on scene.” Then a brief hesitation before saying, “CBG.”
Dead, angry, air.
A mature voice broke through, his annoyance palpable. “Is Commercial there yet?”
“Negative, but they’re on the way.”
“Expedite.”
“Checckkk.”
The portable radio thumped against the back window. Fiona’s head poked through the partition, bringing the scent of cigarettes into the front cab. “This is your fault. He’s your patient.”
“Fine.”
“And I’m transporting him out of county so that we don’t see him again.”
Eve gripped the steering wheel. CBG. It was Larry. She’d already transported him twice this week and it was only Tuesday. Soon it would be three. Damn it.
She pulled up next to a fire rescue planted diagonally in the middle of the moon swept parking lot. Its flashers beat slow splashes of red against the pavement and then melted in the light rain. A police cruiser idled beside it with competing blue disco lights. As she got out, she saw Larry seated on the rescue tailgate, with the medics Sam and Todd, on each side of him. His light brown arms were clutched tightly across his thin chest as he rocked in place. He looked cold, understandable as he wore nothing but an adult diaper.
Sam beckoned her with a come-hither glove. He smiled; his teeth gleaming bright against the darkness of his skin. The other medic, a tall ginger named Todd, covered a yawn with a freckled hand.
Meanwhile, Officer Pratt stood in front of their patient, hands on her hips. “Okay Larry, explain yourself.”
He shrunk back against the fire rescue. “Believe me. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Then just who were you calling a bitch?”
“Not you,” he said. “I was talking to the dog at your feet.”
“Right.” A moment of angry silence followed. Officer Pratt pointed at the damp grass by her boots. “You’re saying she’s standing next to me right now?”
“Technically, she’s sniffing her behind.”
Officer Pratt’s eyes became narrow slits. “You’re saying an invisible dog is sitting next to me licking her butt?”
“I didn’t say licking. Please don’t give her any ideas.”
“So, when you were screaming ‘Die bitch die,’ you were talking to an apparition that only you can see?”
“Yes.”
“Who just conveniently appeared when I showed up.” Pratt’s voice was getting ominously low.
“Yes, now you understand.” Larry’s left eye began to twitch. “She just does it to get me in trouble.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a bitch, that’s why!” he screamed.
The firefighters started to giggle. Todd walked behind the truck, freckled hand over his mouth.
“I should just take you to jail, forget the ambulance.” Officer Pratt jangled a pair of cuffs in her hand.
“No, wait, I’m hurt.” Larry pointed at his big toe.
Eve peered down at it. The toe was purple and swollen. She shrugged. “It might be broken.”
Larry perked up. “Hey Eve.”
Eve ignored him and turned to Pratt. “What do you want to do?”
Pratt jangled the cuffs some more. “I hate to encourage him.”
“I know.”
“And even if it is broken, that’s no reason to go to the emergency room.”
Behind them, the front door of the ambulance slammed shut. Fiona had jumped into the driver’s seat.
Larry’s eyes pleaded with Eve. She felt her shoulder muscles tighten even more, pinching her neck. “But seeing invisible dogs is,” she said, hating herself.
“Yeah.” Pratt took her hand off the cuffs.
Another police cruiser drifted silently up to them; the window rolled down. A silver haired officer peered out. “Everything okay, here?” he asked Eve. Then he winked at Larry.
“It’s fine. He’s a frequent flyer.”
“Okey dokey.” The window rolled up and the cruiser glided away into the fog.
Officer Pratt and Sam exchanged looks, but Eve didn’t notice.
“Frequent flyer?” Larry said. “Then I should be getting a discount.”
Sam poked Larry in the shoulder. “That would imply that you’ve ever made a payment, dip wad.”
“Oh geez, let’s get this over with.” Eve headed toward the truck.
Pratt glared at Larry, hand on her holster. “You better go before I change my mind.”
Larry wasted no time and limped toward the ambulance with Sam close behind. Sam gave Eve the run sheet, the sparse information written in crude block printing.
“Here you go, hon.”
“Uh, huh.”
Sam began to leave and then turned around. “Who were you talking to back there?”
Her brow creased. “What do you mean?”
“When you brought up Larry being a frequent flyer.”
“I was talking to the other policeman.”
Larry shivered next to her. “I wouldn’t trust that one, Evie. Shifty eyes and all that. Can we get inside now? The rain is getting worse.”
Sam grimaced. “You know what? You two deserve each other.” He walked away.
“What did I do?”
“Don’t listen to him, Evie.” Larry clambered into the back of the ambulance. He reached into a small cabinet over the monitor and took out a spray bottle and a box of wipes.
“What are you doing?”
He sprayed down the rails on the stretcher and the wall cabinets beside it. “Just cleaning up a bit.”
“You’re getting worse; you know that, right?”
He lay down on the stretcher, hazel eyes pinned to the ceiling.
“You can sit on the bench seat.”
“I want the full treatment,” he said. “You have hand sanitizer? I know you do.”
Larry’s left eye developed a slight twitch, and his breathing came out in little hiccups. He was on the verge of a full-on conniption fit. Holding out on a bottle of $2.99 hand sanitizer wasn’t worth it. Silently, she handed him a small bottle of hand gel. He grabbed it, squeezed the contents into his palms, and rubbed them together with meticulous precision.
Eve studied his face. He was always strangely clean for a homeless person. “You know, you should probably reconsider your line of work.”
“Tell me about it.” Larry’s face softened into a smile. “Unlike the she beast up there,” he jerked his head toward the front of the ambulance, “sarcasm suits you.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Then she frowned. “Don’t you usually wear gloves?”
His expression caved. “Someone stole them.”
Wordlessly, she tossed him a pair of large blue nitrile gloves from a cabinet above his head, the relief in his eyes evident as he pulled them on. A familiar twinge yanked at her gut. How in the world could a homeless germaphobe survive? She put a thin paper sheet over him. “At least cover up. I’m seeing more than I want to.”
He shrugged. “Not my best look, I admit. But sometimes it’s good to change things up a little.”
“You want to be different? Then how about not calling for an ambulance every single day?”
“Hey, I didn’t go yesterday.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t feel well. The last place I want to be if I’m sick is in the emergency room.”
Eve cussed under her breath and let it go. She agreed with him.
Larry craned his head to get a better look at the run sheet in her hand. “That isn’t entirely true.”
“What isn’t?”
“Responded to forty-year-old black male.”
“You’re right, you’ve been forty forever. What’s your real age?”
“I’m timeless.”
“Right.”
“But, seriously, I’m not technically black.”
“I’m sorry. What should I write?”
“I’m a harmonious medley of every color. One day everyone will look like me.”
Eve set the paper down. “There’s only one problem with that.”
“Yes, my child?”
“I don’t have a bubble for that.” She showed him the color and ethnicity choices on the run report. “And don’t call me a child. What’s up with you tonight?”
“I say it as I see it.” Something else caught his eye. “What does this mean, CBG?” It was written in huge block letters in the narrative portion.
Eve’s face turned pink.
From the front seat they heard a thump on the dashboard. “It’s short for ‘Crazy Beagle Guy,’ dumbass!”
Larry pretended to be offended. “She’s not a beagle, she’s a,” here he paused and stared at his feet. He cocked his head; “A what?” he asked the space by his purple toe.
Eve followed his glance, seeing only that his toe had started to swell. She took out an ice pack. “You’re saying she’s in here right now?”
“Hush, I’m trying to hear.”
An unpleasant cackling drifted to them from the driver’s seat.
Larry looked up. “She’s a Shih Tzu.”
“Gesundheit.”
“Buttercup is not amused. She says she’s heard that one before.”
“Buttercup?”
“Yeah, it really doesn’t suit her.” He motioned toward the invisible dog. “She’s nasty. Something you’d find in a clogged drain, all hairy and slimy.” Then he gasped and sat up straight.
“Are you okay?” She held his wrist and felt his pulse race. She reached for the blood pressure cuff.
He gave Eve a pained smile. “How sweet, you’re going to take my blood pressure. No one else does.”
“I don’t do eyeball vitals.” She reached for her stethoscope, pumped up the cuff and let the air slowly creep out. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“It’s a little high today. Are you feeling any chest pain?”
“If by chest pain you mean the torment of having a hound of hell digging her claws into my nipples, then yes.”
A prickle of frost nipped the air. Eve shook it off. “Hey Fiona, I don’t like his BP. We should switch.”
“Hell no.”
“He might actually be sick.”
A nasty laugh from the front.
Eve bowed her head and grabbed her clipboard. There were some fights she couldn’t win. “Let’s do this right. How much have you had to drink tonight, Larry?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe because a demon dog is ripping off your nipples?”
“Fair enough. Two beers.”
Eve glared at him.
“What?”
“Every drunk I peel off the sidewalk tells me two beers.”
“And they’d be right.”
“How’s that?”
“Well,” he said. “The only beers that matter are the first and the last one. Everything in between doesn’t count.”
Laughter from the front seat.
“Oh, God,” Eve said. “You will be the death of me.”
He leaned forward. “I certainly hope not.”
Fiona called back to her, “You better call it in. We’re almost there.”
“But you said we were going out of county.”
“I changed my mind. Memorial has a five hour wait.”
Eve sighed. For some, the appeal of standing by an emergency room wall was too much of an opportunity to pass up. Medics knew there was no better motivation for a patient to get well than to lay on a stretcher for hours on end with nothing better to do than stare at the poor soul who brought you there. Patients with minor ailments eventually got tired of waiting and left. Or if they were stubborn, they would wait for that bed come hell or high water. Either way, your shift would be half-way over.
“Can’t we go somewhere else?” Eve asked.
“I’m pulling into the parking lot now.”
Larry sat up on the stretcher. “Buttercup wants to go to Memorial, too.”
“Of course, she does.”
Eve saw the lights of First Memorial Hospital through the rain-splattered windshield and reached for the hospital radio. At this point the night could only get better.
As a side note…none of this was written with AI and I kindly ask that no one use it for training purposes. Thank you :)
Love that two beers... only the first and last one count!
Wow!
You are saying an invisible dog is sitting next to me sniffing her butt? 😀 Please don't give her any ideas!
I am a harmonious medley of every color.
Shiva :)