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“Seems like a nice call to round out our shift together,” Evan mentioned to Violet, adjusting the collar of his sweater, “Concerned neighbour called about her neighbour Lillian, says she fell last night, didn’t want to go to the hospital, but can’t get out of bed now. We knock, we clear, and then I am taking you out for dinner, Violet Mikami.”
Violet smiled as they pulled up to the address and she climbed out of the rig, “You sure do miss the field, don’t you, Chief? You know we have many floaters, as well as firefighters, happy to pull double duty. You didn’t have to ride along as my floater?”
“Lucky for me that I’m Chief, and I can do pretty much anything, including taking rides with my paramedics to do some evaluations in the field.”
“Right, and you just happened to ask for this paramedic?” she laughed, gesturing to herself.
“Well, yes. And remember, I don’t need a reason. But yeah, paperwork is going to say evaluations,” he smiled, walking up the driveway of the eloquent home, the stair chair in his hand.
Violet reached for the doorbell, ringing as well as knocking, announcing themselves, when an all too familiar sound for anyone living in the city echoed, and Violet instinctively crouched, eyes trying to locate where the shot had come from.
She looked to Evan had stood, but unlike her, he didn’t duck, no – he jerked violently against the pillar on the porch, a mist of red now sprayed across the front door and window to Lillian’s flat, before collapsing onto the ground, tumbling down the stairs, groaning in pain with every step he tumbled down.
“Evan!” she went after him, as another shot rang out and landed in the other pillar, just inches from Violet’s head.
She, too, rolled down the steps, landing beside Evan, yelling at him to move as she tried to hide behind the hedge about a metre or so behind her, but she froze when she noticed he couldn’t heed her warning – he was on his back, eyes wide, hands clutching at the base of his neck.
Blood – bright, arterial red – pulsed in between his fingers, soaking his shirt.
“Violet,” he gasped out.
No. Please, no.
Not him.
No.
Not this injury.
She knelt down, trying to drag him away, but the ping of further bullets only proved that that method was too slow.
There had to be a quicker way, and there was.
Please, don’t let this kill Evan faster.
She ducked low, repeating the moves she had Stella drill into her as she asked the Lieutenant to give her some training in techniques she used – never know when they’ll be useful, right? – and rolled Evan onto her back, ordering him to keep pressure on his own wound, at least until they were out of the line of fire.
The ambulance was a no-go – they’d be running back into the line of the fire, and be sitting ducks.
He was heavy, but her adrenaline gave her the strength to get the two of them around the far side of the house, the gunfire now subsiding.
They couldn’t reach them here.
She slid Evan back onto the ground just as his own hand fell limply from where the bullet had hit him, and she felt all the blood from her own face drain away.
The bullet had hit him in one of the worst places it could have – the hollow divot just above the collarbone, and from all that blood, his artery was compromised, most probably severed.
“Vi…” he gurgled, the panic in his face no mystery, his rapid breathing raising her own heart rate.
“Gonna stop the bleed,” she told him, grabbing a trauma pad from the singular bag that had managed to make it to safety with the two of them, and shoving it against the gap.
It soaked through before she even had time to locate something to hold the pad down.
If you don’t get this bleed under control now, he will die.
He will die in your hands.
“Stay with me, Evan, keep those eyes open,” she asked him, realising she had to go for the nuclear option. She was going to have to find the compromised artery and pinch it off.
She leaned over him, her face just inches from his, his ragged breathing catching the stray hairs fanning her face, “Evan, this is going to hurt a lot. But I…”
“Do it,” she gave her permission, sluggishly grabbing onto the sleeve of the arm closest to him.
Violet didn’t wait any longer as she tossed the bloodied dressing aside and dug in with her gloved index and middle fingers straight into the wound.
Evan let out a blood curling scream that tore right though her soul, his body bucking underneath her.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “but I need you to try to stay still.”
She had to stop the bleeding.
Now or never.
She grunted as she explored the wound some more with her fingers, before she was sure she located the troublesome vessel, and pinned it hard against his blood.
It worked! It worked!
The flood of blood halted, and she breathed out a sigh of relief as Evan whimpered underneath her, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.
“I got it,” she informed him as she finally keyed her radio with her free hand, her fingers solidly in his wound, no matter how much he shifted in pain.
“Mayday! Mayday! This is Ambo 61 to main, we’re pinned down at the address of our last call. Shots fired from distance. Paramedic down!”
Static, before the ever calm voice of the dispatcher responded, informing her that additional resources were four minutes out.
Four minutes.
A lot could happen in four minutes.
She’d seen people bleed out in seconds.
He will not bleed out.
“Violet,” Evan weakly squeezed her free hand, and she lowered her face, temples touching, the tears she tried to keep at bay now threatening to escape.
She reached out for his wrist, noting how slow his heart rate was now.
“Eyes open, Chief, eyes open,” she said, and he jerked them open, still evidently in pain with every breath.
“Hand…” he said, and she noted him trying to grab weakly at her free hand again.
She moved her hand closer and let him squeeze it weakly again, murmuring something else.
“What was that?” she asked, hovering over his face again, trying to catch what else he was saying, but when he didn’t respond, she looked back up to see his eyes closed, no response to her voice.
He’s not dead, just out cold, she had to remind her terrified self, her free hand glued to his wrist, feeling his faint, but steady, pulse still beating.
You did all you could, Violet.
He’s going to be okay.
Keep the faith.