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Author Topic: Line by Line  (Read 2233 times)

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Offline Happy an Nice

Re: Line by Line
« Reply #25 on: December 01, 2008, 10:29:36 PM »
The black sports car raced through the lanes of the freeway without a care for any other, weaving in and out of traffic.  It was barely missing the other cars, cutting them off as it's driver pressed several buttons on his cell phone frantically, waiting and listening to the annoying ringing, ringing.. C'mon, pick up he thought as he swerved to the right, causing his tires to screech. After what seemed like an eternity the phone clicked through, and a female voice answered. "This is Doctor Tim Robinson," He barks into the phone, "I need to have the E.R. readied. I have a female accident victim I am driving, E.T.A. Five minutes. Need a gurney and a crash cart on hand!" Up ahead not 500 yards an older model RV pulled onto the freeway from an on ramp, Tim slowed a bit and swerved over into the next lane to avoid the delay in his arrival.

However, he had pulled too hard on the wheel and his car began to fishtail, the back end breaking lose more and more as he tried to get it back under control; hoping not to end up in the E.R. himself. Finally regaining control, with cars on all sides of him blaring their horns and giving him not so eloquent hand signals, he took in a shaky breath and kept moving. He would not lose her now, they had been through too much.

"Don't you die on me," he yelled and reached his hand back to find hers.  It was on the floor, as he had suspected... the last thing that he needed was for it to have rolled under a seat, and remained there, not to be found again until it was too late to reattach it. He picked it up and looked at her red, slightly cracked fingernails, before setting it down on the passenger's seat next to him. While lingering on that hand he had missed the start of the lane for his exit, and had to violently cut off an SUV to get onto the ramp just in time.

It was important that he hit just the right exit... if he'd gong on the next one, he would have ended up in the financial district, when the hospital that he so desperately needed to get to was downtown. Luckily he got onto it, and was zipping down the road at well over the speed limit, gunning for the hospital with every molecule of fuel in his tank.

Tim was within sight of Memorial Hospital as he raced through the night, frantic to save her. As he sped into the semicircle drive of the Emergency Department, staff ran through the wide automatic doors to meet him. Nurses and doctors, gowned in trauma garb stood beside a white-sheeted flimsy metal gurney. He screeched to a jarring halt and jumped from the car. While quickly loading the victim onto the cart, one of the attendants caught a glimpse of her face, and cast Tim a deep look that screamed of confusion and disappointment. He shot back his own icy glare and barked to the team, "get her inside, let's go!"

As the team dashed up the stairs the attendant turned back to him. "We're going to need that," he said with a nod to the hand in Tim's. Tim growled his displeasure as he held fast to the ghostly white appendage, frail and delicate but for the ragged skin and bloody pulp at the site of detachment. With an agitated sigh and a roll of his eyes, the attendant gave up and followed the cart into the hospital entrance without another word. "Get an OR ready and a scrub team, Call down!" he shouted to the desk nurse; the handsome doctor joining the team tied a surgical cap on his head and fell in step with the small parade that pushed the gurney along the corridor.

Crossing himself, Tim looked at the hand and made his way into the hospital after the group, knowing there would be hell to pay inside when the identity of the women was discovered. He followed the menagerie, clutching the hand in his own as he had when it was warm and welcomed his grasp, until they reached the sterile barrier of the doors to the operating suite. Tapping at the window with his own hand, he held up hers and waited as an orderly opened the door, snatched it from his grip and moved back into the hustle of the operating room. He stood, looking pensively through the windows, clenching and unclenching his own fists.

Offline Kurzyk

Re: Line by Line
« Reply #26 on: December 02, 2008, 07:53:24 AM »
The black sports car raced through the lanes of the freeway without a care for any other, weaving in and out of traffic.  It was barely missing the other cars, cutting them off as it's driver pressed several buttons on his cell phone frantically, waiting and listening to the annoying ringing, ringing.. C'mon, pick up he thought as he swerved to the right, causing his tires to screech. After what seemed like an eternity the phone clicked through, and a female voice answered. "This is Doctor Tim Robinson," He barks into the phone, "I need to have the E.R. readied. I have a female accident victim I am driving, E.T.A. Five minutes. Need a gurney and a crash cart on hand!" Up ahead not 500 yards an older model RV pulled onto the freeway from an on ramp, Tim slowed a bit and swerved over into the next lane to avoid the delay in his arrival.

However, he had pulled too hard on the wheel and his car began to fishtail, the back end breaking lose more and more as he tried to get it back under control; hoping not to end up in the E.R. himself. Finally regaining control, with cars on all sides of him blaring their horns and giving him not so eloquent hand signals, he took in a shaky breath and kept moving. He would not lose her now, they had been through too much.

"Don't you die on me," he yelled and reached his hand back to find hers.  It was on the floor, as he had suspected... the last thing that he needed was for it to have rolled under a seat, and remained there, not to be found again until it was too late to reattach it. He picked it up and looked at her red, slightly cracked fingernails, before setting it down on the passenger's seat next to him. While lingering on that hand he had missed the start of the lane for his exit, and had to violently cut off an SUV to get onto the ramp just in time.

It was important that he hit just the right exit... if he'd gong on the next one, he would have ended up in the financial district, when the hospital that he so desperately needed to get to was downtown. Luckily he got onto it, and was zipping down the road at well over the speed limit, gunning for the hospital with every molecule of fuel in his tank.

Tim was within sight of Memorial Hospital as he raced through the night, frantic to save her. As he sped into the semicircle drive of the Emergency Department, staff ran through the wide automatic doors to meet him. Nurses and doctors, gowned in trauma garb stood beside a white-sheeted flimsy metal gurney. He screeched to a jarring halt and jumped from the car. While quickly loading the victim onto the cart, one of the attendants caught a glimpse of her face, and cast Tim a deep look that screamed of confusion and disappointment. He shot back his own icy glare and barked to the team, "get her inside, let's go!"

As the team dashed up the stairs the attendant turned back to him. "We're going to need that," he said with a nod to the hand in Tim's. Tim growled his displeasure as he held fast to the ghostly white appendage, frail and delicate but for the ragged skin and bloody pulp at the site of detachment. With an agitated sigh and a roll of his eyes, the attendant gave up and followed the cart into the hospital entrance without another word. "Get an OR ready and a scrub team, Call down!" he shouted to the desk nurse; the handsome doctor joining the team tied a surgical cap on his head and fell in step with the small parade that pushed the gurney along the corridor.

Crossing himself, Tim looked at the hand and made his way into the hospital after the group, knowing there would be hell to pay inside when the identity of the women was discovered. He followed the menagerie, clutching the hand in his own as he had when it was warm and welcomed his grasp, until they reached the sterile barrier of the doors to the operating suite. Tapping at the window with his own hand, he held up hers and waited as an orderly opened the door, snatched it from his grip and moved back into the hustle of the operating room. He stood, looking pensively through the windows, clenching and unclenching his own fists.

Bustling about with body parts was no uncommon sighting here at St Bartholomew's Hospital, and as the orderly sped into the packed room of scrubbed doctors and nurses...