Kept Moving III: Finale


Pic of the day, part i: Shikan Nakamura IV as Ishikawa Goemon, by Kunichika Toyohara

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These worst mornings with cold floors and hot windows and merciless light—the soul’s certainty that the day will have to be not traversed but sort of climbed, vertically, and then that going to sleep again at the end of it will be like falling, again, off something tall and sheer.

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

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Continued from Kept Moving II:

And then he fell unconscious.

And began to shake violently.

The EMT’s sprang to action to make sure he didn’t choke on his tongue.  “It’s a mild one, he’ll be fine in a minute.”  As he held on to the young man  to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

The wound on his left arm were still bleeding slightly, as was his head wounds.  After the wounds were cleaned the first EMT noted that the wound on his arm was very deep and was the same size as the change slot in a vending machine.  He joked with his buddy “He’ll prolly get a tattoo  just above it, marked “Insert Coin.”  The both laughed

The second EMT got to the job of putting pressure bandages on the wounds where he could as soon as the seizure stopped, which was a scant few seconds.  One of the two policemen walked up and began interrogating the people who had gathered around, and the second group of EMT’s from the second ambulance came over to assist, if they could.

The second policeman walked up to the EMT’s and the young man.  He said “How is he?”  The EMT said “He’ll live, but he’s a mess.  Broken leg, cut up all over, a concussion no doubt, just had a seizure.  He’s out like a light right now.  Wanted him awake so we could get some information from him.  Still don’t know if he was high before he got hit.”

Just then the young man’s eyes fluttered and opened.  He moaned as he put his hands to his face, felt a bandage on one side.  He pulled his hands away and looked at his blood covered hands.  A few seconds later the EMT put a bandage on the wound that wasn’t covered, and began with the police officer to ask questions.

Officer: “What’s your name?”

Bobby: “Bobby.  Bobby… Lane.”

EMT: “Where do you live Bobby?”

Bobby: “Down over on Metro..polit…  Eighty…Ffff…five… Metro…polit, upstairs … apar…ment”

Officer: “Anyone live there besides you?  Anyone we should contact?”

M..m..granma...”

Officer:”He’s slurring his words”  EMT: “He’s a mess. We gotta get him to Saint Vinny’s.”

Bobby fell unconscious for the second time.

Officer: “We’ll get the rest of his information en route.”  EMT: “Let’s get him on the stretcher and in the scream machine.”

Officer: “Scream machine?  Nice.  Think he’s a screamer?”  EMT:  We’ll find out.  Time to load him up”

———————————

The two Emt’s got the young man loaded onto the stretcher fairly easily, they bumped it once on the way onto the ambulance.  He had come to some moments before and barked out in pain as he was brought on to the Ambulance.

As the ambulance pulled away, it had to negotiate around the two police cars before it could make it through to get to the hospital.

As it rode down the street at speed with lights flashing and siren blaring with it’s injured occupant and two Emergency Medical Technicians, it ran a red light trying to get to the Hospital.

It was hit at 50 MPH by a speeding Pickup truck three blocks away from the scene of the accident, near the corner of  Coughlin and Metropolitan.  The truck was trying to get through the light before it turned red.

The driver of the pickup truck sustained several broken bones but survived.

Both EMT’s and it’s occupant were killed as the ambulance flipped on it’s side and careened into a warehouse across the street.  The driver was crushed to death in his cab as it slammed into the side of the warehouse.  The second EMT, who was working on young Bobby died almost instantly as the Pickup truck slammed into the side of the ambulance.  As did Bobby.

Bobby Lane was two blocks from home when he died.

The End.

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Pic of the day, part ii:  Spring Outing in a Villa, by Kunichika Toyohara

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Severity is in the eye of the sufferer, it says. Pain is pain.

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

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That’s it from here, America.  G’night.

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