by Jamie Davis
She pointed to the screen. “Click the EMS-U tab at the top of the report window.” Dean did so and looked at the series of check boxes and drop-down menus as well as a short narrative section. Brynne continued. “That’s where we put the Unusual information from our call. In this case, I selected ‘lycan-Wolf’ from the drop-down menu. That’s it. Everything else can be written or marked in the regular electronic report. We responded to a call for a diabetic patient with altered mental status. The patient was agitated, and while physically restraining him, we administered glucagon IM to treat the problem. The patient signed a transport refusal, and we returned to the station. It’s simple as that. We usually don’t even stray from protocol very far, if at all.”
Dean turned and looked up at Brynne as she stood behind him. “About that, I thought we were under the same protocols as the rest of the district units.”
“We are,” she said. “It’s just that the medical director - who is, by the way, in on the secret - has given us permission to step outside of protocol for normal humans when necessary. We can call for a medical consult if we need it. If we do venture outside of protocol, we’d better have a good reason, and we have to document it in the EMS-U tab.” Brynne smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t happen that often.”
“Should I assume the ‘U’ in ‘EMS-U’ stands for ‘Unusual’?” Dean asked.
“Yes,” Brynne replied. “We’re officially in the Emergency Medical Services - Unusual Division.”
She walked over to the other side of the long desk, slid open a drawer and pulled out what looked like a squirt bottle of blue or black ink, a stencil and small paint roller. “I didn’t get a chance to do this when you first got here since that call came in so quickly. Most Unusuals can see into the infrared and UV spectrums. Because of that, we mark ourselves so they can see that we are one of the good guys and they can let their guard down with us. This is a special UV/IR dye that is like permanent marker. It will be invisible to us unless we look under a backlight or with night vision goggles. It wears off after four days or so, so you’ll have to do this again when you start each new shift rotation.”
She squirted some of the dark ink on the small paint roller. “Hold out your hands, palm down.” Dean hesitated. “Don’t worry, this stuff is harmless. It’s just like the stamps they use at nightclubs and amusement parks to mark you so you can come back in after you leave.” He held out his hands as she had asked and she placed the stencil with the same shape as his shoulder patch on the back of his right hand. She rolled the ink over the stencil. It felt cold to the touch. The ink was dark blue at first but faded as it dried. Brynne repeated the process with the back of his left hand.
“So you do this every four days?” He asked.
“Most of us opt for the permanent alternative,” she said as she returned the ink, stencil and roller to the desk drawer and returned with what looked like a standard flashlight. She clicked it on and shined the purplish glow of a black light on his hands. He could see the stencil outlined on the backs of his hands in a faint blue color. It disappeared when she took the light away. She shined the black light on the back of her left hand. Dean saw the same outline as his but the lines looked thicker and more substantial. “This is a tattoo you can get if you want. It’s done at a special place where Unusuals get their ink. I’d wait until you think you’ll last here, though. This job’s not for everyone.”
She put the light back in the drawer with the rest of the stencil supplies and closed it. “Let me finish up my run report and send it off to HQ. You can go out and start washing the bugs off the ambulance. There’s soap, sponges and a bucket in the metal cabinet between the med dispenser and the sink.” Dean got up and Brynne sat down at the computer again.
“And make sure you do a good job. The chief likes us to keep the units clean, inside and out!”
When Dean returned from washing the ambulance, there was someone else in the squad room. He was about six feet tall, dark-haired and dressed all in black with black jeans, shirt and a black blazer.
“Dean this is my friend James,” she said. “He dropped by to say ‘hi.’”
James extended his hand and Dean took it in a firm grip. The hipster’s hand was cold despite the warm temperature outside and in the office. He was struck by the intensity of the man’s gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean,” James intoned with a slight southern drawl. “I hope Brynne has been nice to you on your first day. I know she has a habit of snapping at people, especially in tense situations.”
“Uh, she’s been great.” Dean said. “First days on the job are always a bit tense, right? She’s showing me the ropes.”
“Oh, she likes ropes.” James said with a laugh, dodging as Brynne launched a semi playful punch at his midsection.
“Hey,” she said. “I have to work with this guy.”
“Sorry my darling,” James said. “I was just making a joke. Maybe all that experience with knots is because you dated a boy scout when you were younger.”
Brynne laughed. “Like I would ever be caught dead dating a boy scout.”
“True,” James responded. “They’re not your type, are they?”
Brynne dropped a few ice cubes in the cup and poured in a diet soda. She looked up at Dean, “Did you finish cleaning the unit?”
“Yes, I also put the stuff away in the cabinet and shut the bay door.” Dean said. “Is there anything else that needs doing right now?”
“Not really,” she said. “We’ve got the rest of the shift to pick up the squad room, vacuum and make sure the bunks are made up with fresh sheets. Why don’t you take some time and do some research - watch one of the DVDs on the TV or do some reading? I’m going to walk James out. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Ok,” Dean said. “It was a pleasure meeting you, James.”
“Oh, the pleasure was all mine.” James said with what might be called a grin. “Brynne so loves breaking in new guys. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when I see her next. We’ll no doubt meet again. Until then…”
“Sure,” Dean said, “I guess I’ll see you sometime soon.” He watched the strange guy turn and gracefully leave the room. He’d always thought hipsters were a bit strange, but this guy had weird written all over him.
Dean heard the door close as the two of them went outside. He picked up one of the Grimm’s Fairy Tale books and sat in the recliner. It looked 50 years old - maybe older - but was well taken care of.
He started to leaf through the pages and noticed there were handwritten notes in the margins. They were in different colored blue and black inks and the variation in the handwriting suggested they had been written by multiple people. There were comments like ‘Clearly Mister Grimm never dated a witch,’ or ‘Don’t turn your back on a vampire, ever!’ He put the book down and looked at others on the bookshelf. There was Greek and Roman mythology, stories from India and the Far East, and several copies of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. There was even a book on Native American folk tales. “What have I gotten myself into?” he said quietly to himself. That was becoming his mantra.
He looked up as the outside door opened and Brynne came back in. She nodded. “You’re doing some research, I see.”
“It’s easy with all this material,” Dean answered. “But I don’t know the best place to begin. I never realized how many different stories and cultural tales there are out there.”
“Just start with one and work your way to the next,” she said. “You just pick a starting point. Some books you will like more than others. Don’t forget to devote time to reviewing your medical stuff, too. It’s also important. With you just out of school most of that stuff is still pretty fresh, but you’re a professional now, and staying current is your responsibility.”
“That’s what my instructor used to say,” Dean said.
“Who’d you have?” Brynne asked.
“Mike Farver,” Dean answered. “Do you know him?”
“You might say that,” Brynne c
huckled. “He was my first preceptor here at Station-U before he moved on to the Academy. I should have figured he would have had something to do with sending me a rookie to break in.”
“He told me to keep an open mind and listen to you.”
“Well, I guess you’d better then,” Brynne said. “I’m going into the bunkroom to catch a little sleep. The doors are locked. Make sure you leave the lights on if you decide to bunk out for a while, too. They’re on motion sensors so they’ll shut off on their own.”
Dean watched her as she headed down the hallway to the bunkroom, then turned back to the bookshelf. Peering at one of the copies of Dracula, a dark-haired, pale-faced man with fangs looked back at him from the cover. It reminded him of the guy who was, apparently, his partner’s boyfriend. He leaned back in the recliner and began to read the story he’d always thought of as fiction. Perhaps not.
3
The remainder of that first night was uneventful and Dean eventually fell asleep reading the Bram Stoker novel. He was awakened by the sound of Brynne’s voice from across the squad room. He jerked his head up, quickly wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth.
“Wake up probie," she said. “Man, I’m glad you didn’t come back to the bunkrooms. I would have heard you through the walls. You snore like a freight train.” She was seated at the computer in one of the swivel chairs. “The guys from the next shift will be here soon. Run out to the ambulance bay and make sure everything is straightened up in the back of the unit. I know we didn’t have any calls after that first one, but it’s always a good idea to leave the station in the condition you’d want it left for you.”
“Got it,” Dean said, jumping up. He stretched briefly then headed out to the bay after a quick bathroom break to throw some water on his face. Everything looked just as he’d left it, but he found a soda can in the cup holder of the cab. He dumped the contents out in the sink and put the can in the recycling bin. In the back of the ambulance he emptied the trash and put a fresh red hazmat bag in the can and replaced it.
He closed the doors to the ambulance, washed his hands, and walked back to the squad room door. He heard voices as he opened it. Walking in, he saw two paramedics named Bill and Lynne. They were chatting with Brynne. Bill was about five foot ten, balding and a little thick around the middle. He also looked to be around fifty years old – older than most people in this profession.
“I see you didn’t break the new guy, Brynne,” Bill said as Dean walked in.
“He’s not a complete incompetent,” Brynne said with a grin. “Mike sent him to us, so he’s got some promise.”
Lynne, seated in one of the two desk chairs, pulled off her glasses, and pushed a lock of curly blonde hair out of her face. It was clear to Dean she was at least fifteen years younger than her partner. She folded the newspaper she had been reading. “How is old Mike these days? He was one of the first EMS-U medics in Elk City you know.”
“He’s fine, I guess,” Dean said with a shrug. “He was our primary instructor in the paramedic program. I always enjoyed his lectures. Listening to him was easy because he made the information seem real. He always had a story to go with the material and that helped us make sense of what we were supposed to be learning.”
“It’s too bad there were so many stories he couldn’t tell,” Brynne said with a conspiratorial grin.
“So true,” Lynne agreed.
“Well, if he sent you to us, we should at least give you the benefit of the doubt,” Bill said. “He pioneered this program with Doc Spirelli years ago. Until then, the Unusuals had to take care of themselves and make do with back alley medicine. The powers-that-be have always known about them, but didn’t care to provide any kind of special services. Doc Spirelli over at Elk City Medical Center changed that when he started up this unit with Mike.”
“Did Mike run the calls all by himself at first?” Dean asked.
“In the beginning, yes,” Bill replied. “He had a chase car. Word got out quickly with the Unusuals that there were people in the medical community who felt they had a right to equal care and wouldn’t out them. After about a year, Doc got funding from somewhere to put a full time “special needs” ambulance on the street. Now, there are six of us in the full-time rotation and about four more who pull some shifts part-time to fill in as needed.”
Lynne jumped in. “When are you going to retire, Bill? You’ve been doing this almost as long as Mike has.”
“I don’t know,” Bill said. “I guess I’ll stop when I feel like I can’t make a difference anymore. I like the work, I like the patients, and I like helping people. Hell, there are worse ways you can spend your time.”
“Anything interesting last night?” Lynne asked. “Anything we need to be aware of?”
“Bob Jackson had another diabetic lycan episode last night,” Brynne said shaking her head.
“What’s that, the third or fourth time this month?” Lynne asked.
“Fourth, I think,” Bill said. He looked at Dean. “Well, that’s a good way to see what we deal with, eh?”
“It was certainly eye opening,” Dean said. “I wasn’t sure who – or what – Brynne was struggling with at first. As if the first shift isn’t disconcerting enough ….”
“You should’ve seen him fumbling with the glucagon,” Brynne said, laughing. “I’m wrestling this slobbering, drooling lycan in mid-change and he’s shaking like a leaf in a January wind trying to get the needle on the syringe. It was priceless.”
Bill clapped the newbie on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, kid. You should’ve seen Brynne on her first call. She couldn’t talk for a half hour afterward. She just kept saying ‘They’re real! All of them, they’re real’.” Bill laughed. “She’d just found out that not only were her childhood nightmares real, but now those creatures of the night were her patients.” He nodded toward Brynne. “Look at her now. This is all second nature to her. Dean, you would be wise to follow her lead. Brynne has the intuition it takes to do this job, and I would guess you do too.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Dean said. “At least I know it won’t be routine.”
“All right,” Brynne said. “That’s enough. I don’t need you guys telling my probie any more stories about me or artificially inflating his opinion of me. I can do that by myself. Come on Dean, I’ll walk you out so these two won’t keep you here all day. We have to be back in twelve.”
Dean waved goodbye and followed Brynne out to the parking lot. The morning sun was just coming up over the warehouses and buildings surrounding them. She headed to her car, pulling her keys out of her purse as she went. “See you tonight, Dean,” she said over her shoulder as she pressed the remote to unlock the doors. “You got lucky last night. It’s not usually that quiet. I expect we’ll be busier tonight. Make sure you are here a few minutes early so we can make sure Bill and Lynne can leave on time.” He heard the engine of the little silver Nissan sedan fire up.
Dean got in his pickup and caught the image of his eyes in the rearview mirror. He stared back at his reflection and just shook his head. What had he gotten himself into – or more appropriately, what had Mike gotten him into? As odd as this all seemed, part of him realized it was a compliment being chosen for this unique position. What had Bill said about intuition? He sighed. It was his growly stomach rather than his intuition that told him he hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours.
He stopped to pick up a box of donuts at the mini-mart around the corner from his apartment. It was a routine morning as people got their coffee and paid for gas at the counter. That’s when he realized that last night changed how he saw the world. Were any of the people Unusuals? How would he even know? He looked up at a pretty young woman in her twenties staring at him. Actually, she was staring at the hand clutching the box of donuts. She smiled, brushed her long brunette hair away from her eyes, nodded, then turned and left. He watched her get into her red sports car by the gas pumps and pull away.
The clerk called him with a level
of impatience in her voice that suggested he didn’t hear her call him the first time. He snapped his head around and muttered an apology as he put the box of donuts on the counter to be scanned. As he did, he looked at his hand. Of course. The young woman could see the stenciled stamp that Brynne had put there last night. He had just met an Unusual. He quickly paid the clerk for the donuts and headed out to his pickup, suddenly self-conscious of the invisible marks on his hand. He looked around as he walked to his truck. Who else was around him that could see the mark? What kind of creatures were they? The world was suddenly a very different place.
Dean climbed back into his truck and drove around the block to his apartment. Parking on the street, he headed up the outside stairs of a detached garage next to a single-family home on a side street. His place was above the garage owned by Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, a nice retired couple. They liked having a paramedic living on the premises. He also got a break on rent for doing odd jobs around the place for them. That reminded him, he needed to mow the lawn in the next day or so.
He unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and went inside. At least home was the same, he thought to himself. Unless there was a ghost lurking around somewhere, he was alone with his thoughts. He put the TV on the morning news to catch up on what was happening around Elk City. He sat on the sofa, kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the battered coffee table. Grabbing a glazed donut out of the box, he zoned out to the familiar voice of the female news anchor droning on about something or other.
He’d become a paramedic to get into the action. Based on the single call of the first night with Brynne, he knew he was in for some unique encounters. Maybe his patients wouldn’t be the typical gunshot victims seen by crews in other central city stations, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the population of patients he would be seeing. He had always liked a challenge and there was certainly a challenge in dealing with patients out of myth and legend. He rubbed absently at the back of his hand where his invisible stamp was located. His grandmother had always said to be careful what you wish for. You might just get it. He dozed off thinking about her prophetic words.