Night shift (Part two)
Sam took another cigarette from the “Lucky Strike” package. He held it between his blooded fingers, waiting for the police to arrive. With his other hand he kept opening and closing the top of the metal Zippo. Click! Clack! When he heard the sirens nearing, he placed the cigarette between his lips and lid it.
24 hours earlier
John stretched his back and shoulders feeling relief. He and Sam had been “patrolling” around town for a fortnight now. It was like Hell had broken loose these past few days – gunshots, motorcycle accident, hit and runs, alcohol poisoning, overdose. The list kept going.
Sam had given John more space, leaving him to take the lead and proceed as he thinks is best. Sam helped when John needed his assistance, but other than that he just drove the ambulance. John was thankful for that trust and opportunity to work at his best again. He felt like he was doing something useful once more.
Sure, some of the emergency cases didn’t make it through. There were a few patients John lost in the everlasting embrace of darkness and soon enough he found out he can’t remember their faces.
His mind was so occupied with grim thoughts over the week that he completely forgot about the strange dispatcher call for a non-existing address.
“One black coffee, two sugars” Sam handed him a cup of coffee, the steam still rising, writhing like a ghostly white snake. He took a sip and felt energy fill him.
“Thanks. Gosh, I think I could sleep for a month”
“You’ll sleep when you’re dead. Besides you did a good job this week”
“Dispatcher to team 3. There’s been a domestic violence call. The police are already there and have arrested the guy but his wife doesn’t want to go to the hospital. The address is near you. Mind checking it?”
Sam took the radio from the ambulance.
“Dispatch, Sam speaking. No prob., just give us the coordinates”
The police were still there when they arrived. A woman with a broken nose was sitting on the stairs in front of the building, a blanket wrapped around her.
Sam walked over to her, while John stayed with the ambulance.
“Ma’am may I take a look?”
“Bastard. Hitting a woman.”
A police officer, name tag Sanchez stood next to John.
“Mhm” mumbled John.
“Hey, we’ll be taking this scum back to jail, so mind taking this? Some medical records your hospital wanted on a patient, former prisoner of ours”
Sanchez handed John a brown file.
John got back in the ambulance and flipped open the record while waiting for Sam. His eyes widened.
Inside it was one piece of paper, on it only three words written
“Sanctum needs more”.
John took a snapshot of it on his phone. He then closed the file and left it on the empty seat.
There it was again, the mysterious street, included in an even more mysterious message. Something was going on and the police were involved too.
To be continued…