This is part three of a nine part series I will be publishing over the next several weeks. Please comment, question, critique, and criticize. With your help, I hope to work this into a successful story.
Lights and Sirens
Sally walked up sunny 17th Street. She saw a flashing fire truck and an open ambulance parked square on the street in front of the Johnson’s house. They were wheeling Mr. Johnson out when Sally walked past. She could see his face; he wasn’t dead. Mrs. Johnson wasn’t home yet. There was no blood on the blue blanket, which covered him chin to toe, strapped across his body in three places: chest, hips, knees.
“What’s the matter?” Sally asked Mr. Johnson.
“He’s had a slight heart attack,” replied one of the paramedics. Sally took Mr. Johnson by the hand.
“Commercials say you should take an aspirin,” Sally offered.
“They gave me one, Sally,” answered Mr. Johnson, in a weak voice.
“You’ll feel better soon,” Sally reassured him. “Mrs. J’ll be there to take care of you.”
Mr. Johnson shook his head and closed his eyes.
“We’ve radioed. She’s left already,” said the same talkative paramedic. They lifted Mr. Johnson into the ambulance.
“Oh man,” Sally whined, “and you guys don’t have cell phones.”
The paramedics closed the back doors and walked to the front. Sally stood in the Johnson’s yard and watched as the fire truck turned to return to the station and ambulance wailed onto Main Street for the one mile drive to Mercy Medical Center.
To Be Continued…