Danger Zone (File One of The First Responders Files)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Not a surprise this is the second longest chapter of the story thus far at 13.3K words. I would have been very disappointed in myself otherwise. And I am far from disappointed.

Sylvie and Eddie work for their lives, their family rushes to find them, and it all comes to a head at the Sun & Salt. And when the dust settles in the end . . . well. Let's just say, I think I've written the definition of an "emotional rollercoaster."

Enjoy the conclusion and aftermath of "Bad Call!"

***

Eddie's knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove their ambulance down the streets of Austin, the man keeping his gun subtly aimed at him. He pulled into the Sun & Salt, and he quickly parked and climbed out of the ambulance. He opened the back doors, and Sylvie waited for him to climb inside before she jumped out. "I'll get the key."

Eddie watched her find one of the stone animal statues by the kitchen and pick it up, then gently shake the key. He heard a faint rattle, then the spare key to the kitchen dropped into her hand. "Clever," the man narrowed his eyes.

Sylvie ignored him as she opened the door, and Eddie smothered a grin as he carried their victim inside. "As soon as he's down, Eddie, start a line of saline," she ordered. "I'll get his shirt off."

"Copy," Eddie nodded, carefully setting their victim down before searching through his bag.

The woman remained by the victim's side as the man searched the kitchen, making sure it was empty. He paused by one of the walls, and he made a surprised sound. "Cute touch," he remarked, causing Sylvie and Eddie to look over. He was examining handprints from paint on the walls, and Eddie tensed, recognizing those prints. After all, the hands' owners had wanted to do hand painting with Christopher to get some decorations on their new fridge. "Your kids?"

Both paramedics remained silent, not wanting to give anything away. "Got something to lose," the woman sneered with a smirk. "That's good."

Eddie scowled, looking at Sylvie as she went to work on the victim's shirt. "Realmente estoy empezando a odiar a esta perra," he grumbled.

"Tú y yo las dos, Eddie," Sylvie mumbled in reply. Eddie blinked in surprise, and Sylvie gave him a small smile. "Cruz."

"Makes sense," Eddie conceded, then blinked as Sylvie pulled the victim's shirt away. "Cap, his chest," he pointed.

"I see it," she sighed, slinging her stethoscope off her shoulders and putting it on.

"What?" the man frowned, walking over. "What is it?"

"You see how your friend's sides aren't rising evenly?" Sylvie pointed as she checked the victim's chest.

"His lung collapsed?" the man guessed.

"Worse," Sylvie shook her head. "You hear that slushing sound?" The man nodded suspiciously. "It's called a hemopneumothorax."

"In American," the woman narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

"His chest cavity is filling with blood," Sylvie deadpanned as if she was talking about an incoming rain shower. "He needs a tube in his chest to drain it."

"So do that!" the man ordered.

"You called 9-1-1 for paramedics, so you got paramedics," Eddie snapped. "We're not surgeons. We don't have the equipment for that kind of a procedure!"

"Well, if he wants us to do this, then we'll improvise," Sylvie folded her arms. "But we need equipment from the rig first."

The man scoffed, but Sylvie raised an eyebrow, standing her ground. Eddie's eyes flicked back and forth between the two as if he was watching a tennis match, and he smirked when the man growled. "Go with her," he ordered, and the woman nodded, stepping away to point her gun at Sylvie. "Be quick."