Page 15 of In Sheets of Rain

The sound of an ambulance approaching, lights and siren on, didn’t calm me.

Didn’t these people know how close to death these two boys had come?

What if there’d been more than two? What if we’d had to place them all in a circle, centred around their heads, like a drug riddled star on the wet grass as the clouds finally released their load and rain poured down all around us?

I blinked through the water as the backup crew came racing over with stretchers and another O2bottle. A second bag-mask. My hands shook. My knees were caked in mud. An ache had started up between my shoulder blades and we hadn’t even had to do CPR.

“I’ve got this one, Ky,” Simon said. He was crewing the e-car tonight. I was on the LSU—life support unit—with Ted.

“OK,” I said, and shifted my attention to the patient who was now Ted’s and my sole focus.

I counted the squeezes of the bag-mask, trying to keep them slow and steady like my partner was slow and steady no matter what. Ted checked the lines, checked both patients one last time, and then directed our stretcher back to the LSU with unequalled calm.

Nothing was said as we raced towards the hospital. Nothing was said as we handed over a still unconscious teenager and Simon handed over his matching patient in Resus. Nothing was said as we headed out of ED and restocked the truck.

Nothing was said as the LSU got a second callout.

Nothing was said.

By the time the next job was over, nothing needed to be said.

The heavens rained down all round us. Bucket loads of water that washed the streets clean. The air smelled better. Auckland City shook itself and preened.

And it wasn't until much later that I realised the rain looked slightly red. Not brake-lights red. Rubies. A dark ruby red.

It wasn’t until much later after that, that realised the ruby red looked a lot like blood.