Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 71015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Once the gloves were securely in place, I started to the furthest car, the one that hit the light pole.
Within an instant, I knew the guy was dead.
His head was at an unnatural angle, mostly because it was halfway sticking out of the windshield, but that was neither here nor there.
I checked the pulse for good measure, and my assumptions were validated moments after.
I found a blanket in the back seat, grimacing when I realized it was a child’s, but nonetheless covered the body up and went to the next car, replacing my gloves as I went.
Seeing Kettle at one car, and Sebastian at the other, I went to the final one to find a young male teen stooped over the steering wheel, unconscious.
The assessment of his injuries were immediate as soon as I saw him.
The wound at his head was bleeding, but not detrimentally. He had multiple abrasions from broken glass, and bruising starting on his face from when the airbag deployed.
The hazy powder hanging in the air was also a byproduct of the airbag, making it difficult to breathe.
The young male’s pulse was steady and sure, as I felt it before placing him into a C-collar to immobilize his spine.
He woke when the ambulance arrived on scene, the sharp bonk-bonk of the sirens jolting him rudely awake.
“You’re all right,” I said calmly, placing my hands on the boy’s head. “You’ve been in an accident. Can you tell me where you are?”
“C-car,” he rasped. “Driving h-home from s-school.”
“Good boy. What’s your name?” I asked softly.
“B-bond,” he grated.
“Bond?” I asked, clarifying that I’d heard him correctly.
“James. J-James Bon-nd,” he confirmed.
I let that sit for a moment, and then let out a small laugh. “James Bond? Are you for real?” I asked.
He gave me a small smile. “D-damn s-straight.”
“My name’s Torren. It’s nice to meet you, James Bond. Although I wish it was under different circumstances,” I said lightly, trying to keep his mind off of what was going on around him.
From behind me, I could hear the Jaws-of-Life starting up, knowing that someone was most likely in worse condition than the boy.
Being in an accident was scary. Everything seemed heightened due to the adrenaline coursing through their systems. Sounds were louder. Pain was sharper and more severe. Smells were stronger.
It was my job to keep them calm, though.
I was in their shoes once, and I’d made a promise that I’d do the same as the man that’d done that for me all those years ago.
I chuckled and backed up as Dallas and Corbin, the ambulance crew for today’s shift, walked up with the gurney and back board.
“James Bond, fellas. He’s A&O times three. Lateral cut above his right eye, bruising evident on the face from the airbag. Vitals are good from what I can tell,” I informed the two men.
They both nodded, and took over, getting the boy out of the car expertly and transferring him over to the backboard quickly and efficiently.
I left them to their duties, going over to Sebastian who was half in-half out of a tiny little Minnie Cooper.
The car was totaled, no doubt about it.
The front end was so smashed that it was flat in the front. The motor and front end were spewed around the large light pole, along with the contents of the car, which was the most surprising.
“Are those…condoms?” I asked in surprise.
Kettle, who’d joined the festivities at the small car, snorted. “He’s a drug rep. He was delivering condoms to a local clinic with the company’s logo on them.”
My brows rose. “I thought they only delivered pens and shit.”
“Apparently,” Sebastian said as he backed out of the window. “They do condoms and pens. What a combination. Who would’ve thought?
I snorted and started to reply, but my voice was drowned out by the sound of Jaws starting back up, finally popping the door loose enough to work the Halligan into the small gap.
With quick, short jerks, Kettle worked the door loose and finally opened it, allowing even more condoms to flow out of the opened door and onto the concrete.
“What the hell? Did you have these in a bag that exploded or something?” Kettle muttered under his breath.
The woman who was driving was red as an apple. Not because she was hurt, or in pain, but because she was embarrassed. “I couldn’t help it. My boss tells me what to deliver and where. I just do what he says.”
I snorted and started to clean up the scene, brushing the glass into one large pile, picking up pieces of cars and staying out of the cops’ way as they measured and took pictures.
Four hours later, we were finally getting back to the station.
Our dinner that’d been cooking in the oven now resembled something close to gelatin instead of the casserole that it had started out to be before we’d had to stop cooking it halfway through.
I sat down and threw my hands up over my head. “Fuck. I’m hungry.”
Kettle took the recliner in front of me and switched on the Saint’s game. “Pizza, bitches.”
“No. We had pizza for lunch. I want Chinese,” Sebastian said as he took a seat.
“Chinese doesn’t deliver,” I noted.
“Or we could,” the bell rang at the front walk and I groaned, not wanting to get up in the slightest. “Hey Dallas, could you go get that?”
Dallas and Corbin had been back for going on an hour now. It was their duty to get it since they’d been sitting the longest.
“Fuck off,” Dallas muttered from his spot on the other recliner.
His hat covered his face, and he moved not a muscle. “You’re such a douche,” I groaned as I got up and made my way to the front door.
Painfully, might I add.
I was getting fucking old. Although, thirty three wasn’t that old, it wasn’t that young, either.
The things I could do ten years ago…hell even five years ago, wasn’t so easy now.
Like working a call and bending over constantly. That shit was for the birds.
The doorbell rang again, jolting me forward. “Hold your horses,” I yelled, walking as fast as my sore knees allowed.