Two other paramedics catch up to me with the gurney and thankfully, it’s two of my own men. I can work well with any paramedic, but the group of men I’ve trained and worked side-by-side with run like a well-oiled machine.
“Patrick, get the backboard ready,” I tell the one closest to me as I climb up onto the top of the car and carefully ease myself down inside and crouch on the center console, checking her pulse while Brad rattles off her BP from behind me.
Her pulse is weak, but it’s there, thank God. There is no fucking way I’m going back to my fucking truck without news that Finnley is alive.
Brad has done everything he was supposed to, her IV lines are in place, oxygen mask is pressed against her nose and mouth and the brace is wrapped firmly around her neck. I use my pocketknife to saw through her seatbelt as Patrick climbs up the rear of the car with the backboard. When the seatbelt comes loose, I hold her body steady so Patrick can slide the backboard down behind her through the open roof of the car. I turn my body so my back is pressed up against the dashboard as Brad slides almost fully inside the vehicle from the passenger side, places Finnley’s IV bags on the passenger seat and helps us secure her to the backboard. Patrick calls for assistance and I hear the clamor of feet as a few more people climb onto the car. On the count of three, I hold Finnley’s legs and help Brad lift her while Patrick and everyone else pulls her up and out of her seat as gently as possible. Once we’ve got her resting on the tops of the seats, I help push her body the rest of the way up the backboard so her legs aren’t dangling off and secure the straps around them, as well. Brad slides back out of the passenger side window and runs around to help everyone else move her the rest of the way off of the car as I climb out of the top with her IV bags.
Once we get her secured to the gurney, we take off running, me holding the IV bags above her as Patrick and Brad push the bed through the wreckage and other vehicles. Collin is waiting for us by the open back of the ambulance, and I shoot him a dirty look as we stop and flip the latches to collapse the legs of the gurney. I watch as he quickly leans over Finnley, smoothing her bloody hair off her face, full on sobbing when he gets his first good look at her. My anger that he didn’t wait in my truck quickly fades when I see how important it was for him to see her. Even though she looks really bad, I know it helps for him to see that she’s still breathing.
“You gotta move, man. We need to get her to the hospital STAT,” I tell him as we fold the gurney down and lift it inside. Patrick and Brad jump inside and immediately start working on her, taking her blood pressure and checking her vitals.
Slamming the doors closed, I pound on the back end. The siren wails and the ambulance takes off at top speed.
“Come on, let’s get to my truck,” I tell him as I grab onto his arm and help him walk.
We have to walk back through the accident site as we go, and I try to get Collin to look anywhere but at Finnley’s car, but it’s no use. His feet come to a halt like they’re filled with cement when we get right next to her car.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh, my God,” he sobs, running his hands through his hair over and over as he stares at the wreckage.
“It just looks bad because they had to take the roof off,” I tell him stupidly. Shit, he’s used the Jaws of Life enough times in his life as a fireman and he’s seen what an accident that bad does to the people inside.
A cop who is assessing the damage to all the vehicles and checking the road for skid marks walks in front of us and crouches down to look under Finnley’s car.
“Any ideas on how this happened?” I ask him as he makes notes on a pad, hoping he can give Collin some peace of mind before we head to the hospital.
“Can’t really confirm anything until the vehicles are cleared,” he mutters over his shoulder.
“Best estimated guess. My fiancé was in this car,” Collin growls angrily.
The cop sighs, standing up to face us. “The driver of this one definitely caused the accident. Based on the noticeably absent skid marks, I’d say she ran right the red light without even tapping the breaks and the blue one over there t-boned her. I already spoke to the woman who was driving the third vehicle. She saw the accident happen, but was too close behind the guy driving this one to stop fast enough. Her car was the only one that left skid marks as she tried to slow down, but she still slammed into his back end.”
I thank the guy for the information and pull a zombie-like Collin to my truck as quickly as possible. As we head towards the hospital, I try calling Phina to give her a heads-up, but the call goes right to voicemail. I hope to God she’s holed up in her office instead of taking blood today. If she gets called down to the ER when Finnley comes in, she’s going to be a complete mess. Flipping the switch on my dashboard to turn on the emergency light bar on top of my work truck, I hit the gas and fly through every red light and intersection to get us to the hospital as fast as I can while Collin keeps his eyes closed and his head in his hands the entire way, most likely praying. If I were a religious man, I’d be doing some praying right about now, too. I try calling Jackson to tell him to keep Phina away from the ER until I can get there, but that call also goes to voicemail. I angrily throw my phone against the dashboard, cursing everyone who has a cell phone but never bothers to answer it.
Too many thoughts are running through my head and I don’t like any of them. Finnley is a good driver. How in the hell could she just run a light? Phina and I are being watched like hawks, so her father can’t get anywhere near us. What if it pissed him off enough that he decided to transfer his obsession over to someone else she cares about?