Out in the bay, the two men collapsed the stretcher and loaded it into the ambulance. Frank pulled a waterproof jacket from his bag, grabbed the empty oxygen cylinder and the half-empty IV kit and started walking back to the station, obviously intending to restock. Ian circled back to the driver's seat, happy to be free of his partner for even a few minutes. If Frank and Richards' had been good friends, he could understand Frank's unhappiness at Richards' leaving. "But that doesn't mean he should take it out on me," he said aloud, and as he did, he heard a tap at the window.
A man stood there, a tall, thin man in the city medic uniform that sported twin bars on each collar tab. Several pieces of fruit cocktail clustered above his name plate: Ian noticed two red and white save awards and a blue and pink baby delivery award, plus several others he couldn't identify. Pullings read his nameplate. Ian rolled down his window.
The captain held up a radio by its belt and holster. "You dropped this when you got back in," he said.
Ian shook his head "wasn't me."
The captain continued to hold up the radio. "Mr. Steele, all EMTs and medics are required to have a radio on them at all times. Do you have a portable radio?"
Ian flushed. He did not, and admitted it. He went on to apologize, but the captain cut him off. "You dropped this getting into the bus. I don't know if you picked up this morning from the tour one driver, or if she left it for you in the office, but you dropped it. They're fragile things. Please take more care in the future."
Ian took the radio that opened his door and climbed out of the ambulance to strapped belt on. As he finished he heard the passenger-side door open and close, and, turning, he saw Frank and his seat. "Lunch," said Frank, "now." Ian turned back to the captain to think him, but the captain was gone, so he started the ambulance and set his thoughts on lunch.
Frank gave Ian directions to a deli, where he ordered sandwich: "Turkey on rye; lettuce, tomato, mayo, and mustard," and bought a bottle of iced tea. As he watched the assembly of his sandwich, he pulled out his cell phone to call Sara, but the thought of talking to his girlfriend in front of Frank dissuaded him. Of talking to anyone, really, he thought as he paid the counterman.
Ian followed Frank back to the ambulance with his sandwich in one hand and his drink in the other. Frank said something indistinct into his shoulder mic, and he climbed back into the ambulance. Ian turned the ignition key, waited for the wait-to-start light to go out, and started the engine. Using only his developing sense of the neighborhood he brought them back to their post, but Frank said nothing.
An hour a half later they returned to the station, handed the keys and radios off to tour III and signed over their narcotics. Frank vanished without a word. Ian shouldered his bag, signed out (his timecard didn't exist yet) and trudged back to his car. There, he found, stuck to the windshield, a bright orange gift from the City of New Gotham: a parking ticket, in celebration of his first day of work.
[END OF CHAPTER]
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