Foolish Mortals

Chapter 10

ves-tige

vestij

noun

a trace of something that is disappearing or no longer exists

synonyms: remnant, relic, echo, fragment, indication, sign, residue, reminder, legacy

"Okay, hold her neck still."

"She's struggling, hold down her leg."

"Possible concussion, heavy bruising to the face and throat."

The words began filtering in. Was I underwater? It felt like I was floating, the world shifting around me, sounds muffled. Someone was shining a bright light in my eyes. Or was it the sun? No, I felt sure it was nighttime...

"Regaining consciousness."

My ears were clearing up as I came back to myself. I took stock for a long moment as my eyes fluttered open. I was on a stretcher. One paramedic on each side, jostling me towards the back of an ambulance.

"Devon," I croaked.

"Please stay still, Miss. Can you answer a few questions for us?" The older paramedic, a guy with nice eyes, leaned over me a little too close.

"Robbie." I desperately craned around, trying to find my friends.

"Miss, stay still, you are perfectly safe." The man continued talking in a soothing tone as they reached the back of the ambulance.

"Wait." I panicked for a moment, dragging in deep breaths through my rough throat. It felt impossible to speak, but I knew I had to. "No hospital."

"Miss, I'm afraid we have to take you to the hospital, you may have a concussion."

"No!" I lashed out, but found my legs pinned down by the strong arms of the younger paramedic. I tried to calm down. "No. Listen. No hospital. I'm fine."

"Miss, you were unconscious when we arrived on the scene," the guy said, getting impatient now.

"Been drinking. A lot. Think I passed out."

There was a long pause, and they set the stretcher down in the back of the ambulance.

"Please," I said in quiet desperation. It just came out like a whisper of air, but they heard.

The older guy finally sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck. "Fine. But we need to examine you before we release you. And the two guys with you are already on their way to the hospital."

"Are they... Okay?" The image of Devon smacking into the wall flashed through my head.

"They'll go through more tests at the hospital, but they looked okay. You all three got off lucky, just a few ugly bruises." The guy was more relaxed now that I was talking and coherent. "Cops are on their way, you can give 'em a statement."

"Thanks."

"Lay back and let us take a look at you," he said kindly. I heard him muttering something about dumb kids with no insurance as his hands moved over my body, testing my joints and limbs, pressing bruises to ensure there were no breaks.

"Tell me if you feel a sudden increase in pain, any problems with vision or hearing," the younger man at the foot of the stretcher said. As they worked, I heard sirens approaching closer and closer, and I winced as they echoed too loud in my fuzzy head. Two cops in full uniform swung their car, still shrilling and flashing lights, into the mouth of the alleyway, and the siren shut off with a chirp. They approached the ambulance, and I watched them come, struggling with my blurred memories. I knew what I'd seen. But it didn't make any sense. Would the cops even believe me? Probably not.