X-ray Chapter 4, part 3

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In the ambulance, Frank waited. Today he was in the driver's seat, so Ian climbed in shotgun. "I guess I tech today?" he asked.

Frank's reply was to drop the ambulance into gear and drive them down the block for coffee. Clearly, today was going to be a repeat of yesterday, Ian thought, at least where Frank was concerned. For a while he turned his partner's peevishness over his head. Should he say something to Frank? Would that make it worse? Did it have to do with his previous partner, Richards? Andy seemed to think so. And Andy seemed to have a good head on the shoulders.

Deciding the Frank's bitterness had to do with Richards felt like an accomplishment, but brought him no closer to a solution as to what he should do to improve things. He went over everything again. This was easy to do because there was very little: he was new, Frank was bitter, Richards was retired.

Further thought along these lines proved equally useless, and after a while Ian found his thoughts drifting back to the woman with the green eyes. How he allowed himself to say that?

The beeping of the MDT, and the radio at his hip coming to life rescued him from further ruminations: difficulty breathing, no BLS available. Frank switched on the lights and siren, and Ian closed his window; the siren was deafening.

"You can take this?" Frank asked over the roar of the engine.

"Yeah, I can take it," Ian said. Of course I can take it. In his mind he reviewed his treatment algorithms and meds.

"Good," said Frank. "This is it," he added several minutes later as he brought the ambulance up to the curb.

Out of the sidewalk Ian pulled the quote from the ambulance. Frank started to walk off towards the building unencumbered, but Ian wasn't about to shoulder all the equipment alone. "Take this," he said as he handed Frank the monitor, "and this," as he handed him the O2 duffel. Ian grabbed the ALS bag in the stair chair and headed up the steps of the building's stoop.

A panel of door bells took a half of one of the walls of the 3' x 3' outer lobby, but few of them were marked, and none of the more than bore the apartment number of their patient. Now what? Perhaps the door was unlocked? No, it was not. He was figuring the PTT button of his radio when Frank caught up and pressed every doorbell on the panel. A sick buzz filled the lobby, Ian pushed the door open, and they were in.

Ian rang for the elevator, and the doors ground open, discourse in the smell of stale urine. "Don't touch the walls," Frank said as he stepped in.

"Look out for the condom, there."

"At least they're practicing safe sex."

The doors ground closed in Ian looked at his partner. Frank and delivered the line in his usual slightly annoyed, slightly bored voice, and his face betrayed no emotion. Had he been joking? Ian couldn't tell. The doors ground open again in the stepped out.

Down the hall, knock on the door, the door swung open. 90° heat enveloped them. A feeble cry issued forth, male or female, Ian couldn't tell: "don't let the cat out!" The medics stepped in and closed the door.

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