Open Heart: Second Year {On Halt}

Chapter 25- Withering Heights

A series of unfortunate arrangements ended up putting me in same ambulance where Dr. Wilcock was musing. He regarded me as I took the corner place as far away possible in the vehicle. The only sunshine was Sienna who also shared the ride. Two nurses duly without any context sat on same seat with the physician, who rather busied himself on his tablet—scrolling horridly over the poor device. Apollo knew what he was doing there.

The nurses whispered among themselves, hands firmly on emergency roller kits. Technically, more than half of the ambulance space was filled with field equipment. Sienna and I stayed silent, perky for each other's company as we left Edenbrook to the site of accident.

While working inside the building, my nerves wouldn't be fraying like they did now. This was the moment I condemned. The waiting. Waiting for whatever was waiting for you on the other end. The expanse of time when your heart would be beating like mile long torrents from Niagara Falls with heebie-jeebies. My thoughts never stayed focused during such situations— overthinking rose to its peak and scrambled everything in my brain. Sometimes, my thoughts would be spread in hundreds of directions with no direct connection to the assignment I was heading for. It was difficult to talk to somebody during this which was why; the ambulance was flagrant silent as cogitation danced.

I knew the streets were busy since we were traversing at a ridiculous slow pace than expected, especially when there was a MVC on an interstate. Boston's traffic was proving to be a bitch for situations like this and since Edenbrook was one of nearest hospitals—the pressure upon us was tremendous, and I felt for the driver who tried his best to cut through shortcuts to take us there.

What say, Charlotte? Do we need to rendition some of the population?

Finally, bypassing the last traffic post—fifteen minutes after we left Edenbrook, we reached the site. Delay happened because of distance and traffic, but the moment the vehicle stopped, Dr. Wilcock threw his tablet on the seat and flung himself outside like a white blur, barging out from door with a loud bang. One of the nurses cursed and followed him, leaving the other to drag the equipments. Sienna and I shared a look, before joining outside as well.

But the moment we stepped into open air— blood skyrocketed to my ears in a nervous fizzle, changing the anticipation into panic.

"What the hell?!" Sienna muttered, almost stumbling into me in shock.

I shared her conviction, "Regarde cette destruction!"

As a doctor, you have to suck up to everything being told to you, accept everything which has been thrust into your direction with utmost confidence and make sure that nobody realizes the way butterflies would be dying in your stomach. But heedless of the training and every advice being given to you, if you actually saw what I was seeing— whole box of wax would fall into cracks.

I don't know whether I was supposed to move and drag Sienna along or just for a moment, huddle in some corner to take a deep breath. In front of me was perhaps one of the most catastrophic accidents I've ever witnessed in whole twenty-two years of my survival.

The noises reached my ears first— an incisive cacophony of police sirens, fire trucks and ambulances and then horns of multiple vehicles, near and far away. A lot car alarms were blaring, ignored, because they were totaled into a position where silencing them would be really difficult. MVC was a small word to describe because since my foot was placed in a land which had elevation, I could see the wreck which had launched itself in the whole interstate. The highway was completely covered with debris of vehicles and concrete and people, supporting beams dangerously close to being hit by vehicles or cut off due to the fires burning.