Page 60 of Trace of Doubt
Sirens grew closer, and I prayed an ambulance was with them. Not sure I could handle anything happening to Aaron.
His phone lit up showing Isaac calling, and I released my pressure on Aaron’s wound long enough to press Speaker and answer.
“We’re about there. Any more problems?”
“Only my concern for Aaron.” My lungs were on fire. My head pounded. “Is an ambulance with you?”
“There’s two. Are you shot?”
“No.”
“You need medical help for the asthma.”
Instead of responding and using what little breath I had left, I collapsed over Aaron’s lanky body. He couldn’t die because of me.
I must have drifted into a fog because someone lifted me off Aaron and leaned me against the fridge. The person inserted amouthpiece in my mouth. No need for instructions. I sucked in blessed air, a mist with some kind of beta-agonists, probably albuterol. I swept my gaze over the four paramedics in the small kitchen. Two positioned Aaron onto a stretcher while a third balanced an IV pole. I had dozed while they worked on him.
“Are you okay now?” The female paramedic knelt beside me. “We can transport you to the hospital.”
I shook my head and held up five fingers indicating five more minutes. An ambulance left with Aaron. The siren screeched and faded into the distance. Nearly an hour later, the female paramedic removed the nebulizer tube and checked my vitals. The second paramedic jotted down notes.
“She shouldn’t be left alone for any length of time,” the female paramedic said to Isaac.
“I’ve talked to a doctor and picked up some meds.”
Too weak to respond to their conversation, I mouthed a thank-you to both paramedics, and they left.
Isaac sat on the floor beside me. He opened a Walmart bag. “Here you go. I phoned the FBI doc, and he obtained your medical records. You have the real deal here, two filled prescriptions. One is a reliever inhaler, and another is a corticosteroid for long term. If the reliever doesn’t work, your lips or nails turn blue, or you can’t speak or breathe, we’re headed to the hospital. He recommends you see a doctor when this is over.” He opened the prescriptions and showed me the healing mists.
“I’d like to hug you,” I said.
He frowned. “You already have but my wife will understand.”
“You’ve saved my life more than once.”
“Just doin’ my job.”
“Shouldn’t we follow the ambulances?”
“We’re staying right here. If you promise me you won’t move, I’ll talk to the law enforcement officers outside.”
“Go. I’m fine. This floor’s clean. I washed it, remember?” My intent to make light of the situation miserably failed.
“Want a pillow behind your back?”
“Yes, please.”
Isaac retrieved one from my bed, and I allowed the hum of the old fridge to soothe me. Exhaustion won out, and I drifted off to sleep.
The sound of the tank’s door squeaking prompted me to open my eyes. Isaac gave me a thin-lipped smile, a rarity in our hours together.
“Highway patrol officers are still here, but we’ve finished for the moment. Aaron’s being life-flighted to Houston.”
“Good. What about his family?”
“I talked to his wife, and she and their son are on their way to the hospital.”
“I prayed for him,” I said.
