The Serial Killer of Bush Street…Part 2

https://millieannelowe.wordpress.com/2014/06/07/the-serial-kil…-street-part-2/

Copyright 2014 MillieAnne Lowe, Orange County, California

I stood in the middle of Bush Street getting drenched in the heavy downpour. It was probably the worst rain in San Francisco for years. I argued with the EMTs to let me go with Mrs. Johnson to the hospital. “I don’t want her to wake up seeing strangers when she comes around,” I said

“Sorry, Miss. It’s regulations that you be a relative.”

The driver and the medic were about to close the ambulance doors and leave without me when a more officious EMT showed up and said, “I’ll okay it. Let her go along.”

“Okay, you’re the boss. But we gotta go now.”

The heavy rain blurred my vision, I couldn’t see clearly the man who reversed the situation for me. “Thanks. I don’t want her to be with strangers.”

He nodded in agreement and gave me a hand as I attempted the big step into the ambulance. Lucky for me, because my foot slipped on the wet metal step. I took off my high heels, hiked up my straight skirt, grabbed his hand, and made it onto the hard vinyl covered bench seat. The other EMT said, “Let’s get going!”

Then the stranger referred to as the Boss, said, “Miss, you’d better get yourself checked out.” He pointed at my knees. I looked down and saw the lines of a blood trailing down the runs in my nylons.

“Oh gosh, I don’t even feel that.”

“You will later. Have the medics patch you up. I’ll meet you at the hospital. He closed the doors and pounded on them twice. “Go!” he commanded.

Things were happening fast. I slid closer to Mrs. Johnson and held her hand with both of mine. I wanted her to know that someone she knew was there with her. I tried to smooth her thick grey hair back into place and discovered a bright pink gash across the right side of her hairline. “What happened here? I thought I had protected her head when she fell forward.”

“Your friend has been shot. Grazed. She should be okay. It wasn’t deep,” he said as he continued checking dials and equipment.

Fear crept into my mind that she might not make it. “Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson, it’s me, Hayley.” I spoke loudly to be heard over the sounds of the wailing siren.

“That’s good. Keep trying to get her attention,” said the EMT. He pumped the black bulb once again to get a read on her blood pressure.

“Mrs. Johnson, it’s Hayley. We’re going to the hospital. Can you hear me?” I waited and watched for her eyelids or lips to move. Her hand felt soft but cool to my touch. “Mrs. Johnson?” I tried again. “Everyone at the apartment building needs you to get well quick. We want to smell those delicious cookies baking again.” I blinked away my tears and felt them creating streaks down my face, but I didn’t want to let go of her hand.

Then her lips moved, but just a bit. The road we took had a few bumps. I wondered if the bump we just went over made it look like she was speaking.

Then I heard her weak voice. “Hay…lee. Hay…lee?”

“Yes, Mrs. Johnson,” I had my face close to her face now. “It’s Hayley.”

“Wa…wa…Watch,” and then she was still.”

I looked over at the EMT. “Is she going to be okay? Tell me, please,” I begged. “I’m her only closest friend. Is she going to be okay?” I screamed the last question.

“She’s hanging in there. Her blood pressure is very low.”

A squeeze of my hand and a quick few words shocked us both. “Hay..leee, watch out!”

Mrs. Johnson’s lips closed again and her head wobbled with one more bump in the road. The driver called back to us through a sliding window. “We’re here. Be ready with those vitals!”

Copyright 2014 MillieAnne Lowe, Orange County, California