“This is CRT-42. We’ve got an MVA enroute to Tacoma-12. Multiple traumas. Vitals unstable. Probable internal bleeding from ruptured spleen. Uploading scan data now.” Max kept up the pressure on the woman’s chest, trying to stop some of the bleeding while the other EMT reported and transmitted details to dispatch. Another busy night on the streets, thought the DocWagon™ veteran as the ambulance raced through the Seattle night.

“Roger, CRT-42”, came the reply from dispatch. “Tacoma-12 has a trauma team standing by. Be aware that we also have a Stroke Code inbound from the Sound. The reception bay is going to be busy.”

“Copy that, dispatch. We’ll try not to run anyone over”

His partner turned back from the monitors to look Max in the eye. “This one’s ghoul bait, Max”, he said, shaking his head.

The older EMT glanced at the woman’s face. She was pale, sure. And her breathing was shallow. But there was something there. Something that told the veteran medic that she had some fight left. Something to live for. “Not this time, Rocky.”, he said with conviction. “She’s going to damn well make it.”

The vehicle’s tires squealed as they rounded the fence and skidded to a stop in the clinic’s ambulance bay. The place was chaos as the hydrofoil team scrambled to get their patient into the triage area while other medical staff waited to receive CRT-42’s patient.

Doc Sampson took command of the stretcher, commandeering three of the six EMT’s that had just emerged from the service elevator with a body-bag on a gurney. “You three, help take this patient into the surgical suite, now”, she commanded, waving for the other three men to get out of the way.

Max was just coming down off the adrenaline high when he noticed the other three men loading the body bag and gurney into his vehicle. None of them were regular Tacoma-12 staff, but they looked familiar, even if he couldn’t place them. One of them noticed his questioning look and shouted, “Urgent transfer to the Tacoma-5 clinic. We’ll have it back in ten minutes.”

Too tired to argue, and happy to take a break, Max waved them off and headed to the SoyKaf machine. He looked up as Rocky wandered back from the main clinic.

“Hey. Doc thinks she’s going to make it. Looks like you were right.”

The veteran paramedic nodded with satisfaction and took a sip from his cup.

“Ummm, Max? Where’s our ambulance?”