Post by tully on Oct 24, 2012 23:16:44 GMT -8
[style=text-align:center; font-family:courier; font-size:10px;]ext. hope hospital - late afternoon, april four[/style]
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:420px;][style=text-align:justify; font-family:verdana; font-size:10px; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px;]A wan California sun lit up Hope's ambulance bay, casting slanted afternoon shadows beside the two parked vehicles. Leaning against the one furthest from the building and the security cameras, Tully palmed a crumpled B&H pack out of his back pocket and tapped out a busted cigarette. It was a slow day: mid-week, the usual emergency ward stocking-fillers of drunks and stupid kids was at a low ebb. The paramedics had brought in a motorcyclist who'd lost a fight with the freeway earlier in the morning, but they were stabilized for now, and the kids in the car that had almost taken them out had been treated for shock and released. He lit his cigarette with a shitty plastic bic after only six attempts to get the disposable to ignite, and he tossed the empty lighter into the trees across from him. It rustled on the way into the foliage and he took a long drag from his cigarette, breathing out slow blue smoke. He could faintly hear sirens in the distance, coming his way rapidly. He'd done his share of ambulance work in London – and here in his big black Buick, although those were two iterations of the same thing that almost had nothing to do with each other. He leaned his head back against the ambulance and breathed out slow as the sirens got closer. He could smoke fast enough, but even he couldn't get through one in the time it took for a wailing ambulance to come from hearing range to unloading range. Tully flicked his cigarette to the concrete just as the ambulance came into view and checked his watch. He ground the smoke out under his heel, raising a hand to shield his eyes and watch the vehicle approach. He hadn't been paged to come prep for surgery, so they hadn't radioed in that they would need him. He moved aside as the ambulance backed up into place. The emergency entrance doors swung open to admit a rush of activity. Tully watched the gurney pop out the back of the ambulance, paramedics rushing the patient into the hospital. The heavy doors swung shut behind them. Tully checked his watch again. Less than a minute of frenzied activity and then the excitement was over. He crossed to the front of the ambulance and rested a hand on the door to speak to the driver. Heart attack, older male. Collapsed in a nearby mall. The Irishman nodded, going for a new cigarette. He offered one to the driver, who shook his head and declined. Tully patted the side of the ambulance as it pulled out to make room, and then he remembered that he had no lighter. He tucked the smoke behind his ear and started walking to the front of the hospital to buy or bum a new one. The sun hit the white and blue of Hope Hospital hard, gleaming on the windows of the emergency ward and intensive care. There would be smokers outside the hospital doors. There always were; how far away just depended on how clear the no smoking signs were. Hospitals weren't good places to be without something to steady your nerves – or your hands. [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:50px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/BbZ6i.png);][atrb=vAlign,top] |