barked into it. “Got a kid in bad shape.”
Denny stuck the clipboard in front of the paramedic. “Says here to take him to St. Peter’s. Dr. Green-way.”
“That’s where his brother is,” Telda added. “Doreen told me all about it. She was worried this
sne aimost sent tor an ambulance this afternoon. Said he’s been slipping away all day. I should’ve been more careful.”
The stretcher arrived with two more paramedics.
- Mark was quickly laid on it and covered with a blanket. A strap was placed across his thighs and another on his
- chest. His eyes never opened, but he managed to keep the thumb in his mouth.
And he managed to emit the painful, monotonous groan that frightened the paramedics and sped the stretcher along. It rolled quickly past the front station, and into an elevator.
“You ever seen this before?” one paramedic mumbled under his breath to the other.
“Not that I recall.”
“He’s burning up.”
“The skin is normally cool and clammy with shock. I’ve never seen this.”
“Yeah. Maybe traumatic shock is different. Check out that thumb.”
“Is this the kid the mob’s after?”
“Yeah. Front page today and yesterday.”
“I guess he’s gone over the edge.”
The elevator stopped, and they pushed the stretcher hurriedly through a series of short hallways, all busy and filled with the usual Friday night madness of city jail. A set of double doors flew open, and they were at the ambulance.
The ride to St. Peter’s took less than ten minutes, half as long as the wait once they arrived. Three other ambulances were in the process of depositing their occupants. St. Peter’s received the vast majority of Memphis knife wounds, gunshot victims, beaten wives, and mangled bodies from weekend car wrecks. The pace
was hectic twenty-four hours a day, but from sunset Friday until late Sunday, the place was in chaos.
They rolled him through the bay and onto the white-tiled floors, where the stretcher stopped and the paramedics waited and filled out forms. A small army of nurses and doctors scrambled around a new patient and all yelled at the same time. People ran in every direction. A half dozen cops milled about. Three more stretchers were parked haphazardly in the wide hallway.
A nurse ventured by, stopped for a second, and asked the paramedics, “What is it?” One of them handed her a form.
“So he’s not bleeding,” she said, as if nothing mattered except flowing blood.
“No. Looks like stress or shock or something. Runs in the family.”
“He can wait. Roll him to Intake. I’ll be back in a minute.” And she was off.
They wove the stretcher through heavy traffic, and stopped in a small room off the main hallway. The forms were presented to another nurse, who scribbled something without looking at Mark. “Where’s Dr. Greenway?” she asked the paramedics.
They looked at each other, and shrugged at the nurse.
“You haven’t called him?” she asked.
“Well, no.”
“Well, no,” she repeated to herself, and rolled her eyes. What a couple of dumbasses. “Look, this is a war zone, okay. We’re talking blood and guts. We’ve lost two people in that hallway right there in the past thirty minutes. Psychiatric emergencies do not get top priority around here.”
iuu want us to shoot him?” one of them said, nodding at Mark, and this really pissed her off.
“No. I want you to leave. I’ll take care of him, but you guys just get the hell out of here.”
“You signed the forms, lady. He’s all yours.” They smiled at her, and headed for the door.
“Is there a policeman with him?” she asked.
“Nope. He’s just a juvenile.” They were gone.
Mark managed to roll onto his left side and bring his knees to his chest. The straps were not tight. His eyes opened slightly. A black man was lying across three chairs in one corner of the room. An empty stretcher with blood on the sheets was by a green door next to a water fountain. The nurse answered the phone, said a few words, and left the room. Mark quickly unhooked the straps and jumped to the floor. There was no crime in walking around. He was a nut case now, so what if she caught him on his feet.
The forms she’d been holding were on the counter. He grabbed them, and pushed the stretcher through the green door, which led to a cramped corridor with small rooms on both sides. He abandoned the stretcher and threw the forms in a garbage can. The exit signs led to a door with a window in it. It opened into the madhouse of