Bare Feet

Chapter 3

          Maxine didn't answer, just stared ahead. Kate waited for a response, and when she said nothing she started again.

          "Maxine, I'd like to take you to the hospital. Is that okay? Can I take you there, and have your parents meet us?" She didn't answer, didn't say a word, but stood up averting her eyes. "Is that a yes? Your teacher can come if you'd like." She nodded and then followed the officer out to her patrol car, Mr. Bryson trailing behind her.

          Kate knew the young woman was in shock, she certainly would have been too. Her lack of comprehension of what was happening, had happened, worried her and she figured it needed attention. There was obvious trauma, seeing the caged doors of her cruiser she had frozen in her tracks before her teacher motioned her to the front, and got himself into the back.

          How much, and to what extent, she had no idea. Not being a medical professional, she wasn't sure if the cause was psychological or physical, but decided the risk wasn't worth it. Thinking of her parent's reaction when they got the call that there long lost daughter had been found, only to arrive and have had her die from some brain bleed, was too much guilt. Not to mention, the poor thing was going to have to be scraped from head to toe for evidence.

          Protocol required her to call ambulatory services, but she didn't want to frighten her more. She already seemed out of her skin, cut off from reality. She updated the dispatcher as vaguely as possible and headed to Mercy West Hospital, the car ride wickedly quiet.

          She remembered the first tragic silence she had witnessed on the job. There was a call in for assistance, at a thirteen story apartment complex. A woman was standing at the time, one officer trying to talk her down, the other updating the dispatcher every thirty to forty five seconds.

          It was mid December, far too cold to be outside without socks, mittens, a hat and a warm lined jacket, and yet there she was. The officer on the scene was worried about hypothermia, but obviously she hadn't planned to be outside long enough to get even frostbite.

          She had stage IV cancer, terminal, no husband and no job. She was listening to the reports over the scanner; speeding towards the woman who's only decision to get off the roof was by passing thirteen floors on the way down.

          And then, abruptly, the frequent thirty second updates seized. She pulled over to the shoulder of the road, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her, impatiently waiting to hear.

          The adrenaline pumping through her veins went cold when the next message came through twenty minutes later. They were notifying next of kin.

          Listening to the radio transmissions between paramedics and officers in the field and their dispatchers became a frequent part of her job. She was used to hearing about stabbings, home invasions, robberies, and vehicle pileups. It was the magnitude of domestic violence calls, abductions, and suicides that sent chills through her.

          Heat rose up her neck as she remembered the fight with her husband earlier that morning. She knew now it had been a mistake to marry him, to marry at all. He had too many expectations that she couldn't possible meet without sacrificing what was most important to her, her career.

          She had no understanding for how he could expect her to give it up, give up helping and serving her community. Her loyalties were set; if he had a problem with that he could go find a new wife for all she cared.

          Pulling up alongside the hospitals parking house meter, she leaned out through her window reaching for the time stamp. She parked on the uppermost level, and the three of them exited the car together. Stretching out her limbs, she readjusted her belt and led the way to the hospital entrance, holding the door open.