Lori Avocato - Dead On Arrival

And damn but I didn’t even shift in my seat.

The ambulance ride went smoothly with Buzz Lightyear driving, considering Virginia vacillated from crying to wiping her nails, to chanting and stripper maneuvers. Occasionally she’d say an Our Father, which, I might add, she did damn well for a Jewish girl-except for saying “who aren’t in heaven” instead of “who art in heaven.” I had to wonder what that said about her beliefs.

Dano seemed to ignore her while he wrote on his daily run sheet, but did occasionally stick the nasal cannula back in her nose so she got her oxygen.

I leaned back to rest and contemplate my job.

Suddenly she bolted up on the stretcher.

“Get down, Virginia, before you get hurt,” Dano ordered. “What the hell are you doing, anyway?”

She leaned toward him, “I’m waiting for the Immaculate Conception.”

I bit back a smile and said a quick prayer for some type of mental-health recovery for the girl. How the heck did a Jewish girl even know about that?

“Fine. Good. Lie back down,” Dano said, barely looking up from his clipboard.

She lay down. “I’m a virgin, you know.”

Dano and I looked at each other. “Of course you are,” he said, in what I thought a very professional tone.

He’d almost convinced me.

Virginia remained still.

Amazingly enough, riding in the back of an ambulance wasn’t anywhere near as motion sickness inducing with Buzz Lightyear driving. “How sad about Payne,” I said to Dano. Not sure where that came from-other than the fact that I needed to pump him for fraud info. Being stuck back here with self-proclaimed Virgin Virginia seemed like an opportune time, since she wasn’t in critical condition or requiring us to be working on her en route.

“Sad. Yeah, but not surprising.”

Bingo. Had to be a “Bingo” with that statement. “Not surprising?”

Dano never looked up. “Come on, Pauline, I’m sure an intelligent woman like yourself has figured out that Payne Sterling was a weirdo and not well liked. Not only was Payne nuts, he was hated.”

“By?”

Dano started to open his mouth, and before I could move, Virgin Virginia was trying to stand up on the stretcher.

“Oh!” I shouted.

“Get down!” ordered Dano, who looked as if he was trying to get up, the clipboard still at his chest. In seconds, Virginia was on top of said clipboard-and said Dano.

The way she straddled him said she was not a virgin.

Dano tried to struggle free, but Virginia had long nails, which she dug into the back of his neck.

“Aye!” he shouted. “A little help here, Nightingale!”

I started to get up to help. Suddenly a sharp pain centered on my abdomen, sending me sailing back toward the wall, down the side of the bench and into the corner of the ambulance, only to realize Virginia’s leg had been aimed straight at me. The drug-crazed vixen had kicked me!

Now the pain came from the back of my head, and stars danced around both Dano and the proclaimed virgin.

He kept trying to get her off, but she was like Velcro, the way she kept sticking to him, all the while her nightie bunching up around her thighs from what I could see with my blurry vision. Nausea sped up my throat from the smack on my head, and I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

“You all right, Pauline?” Dano shouted, as he tried to break Virginia’s death grip on his neck.

“Mentally ill people are very strong,” was all I could manage.

Dano turned toward the window to the driver’s area. He couldn’t reach it, but leaned over far enough to kick it with his black boot.

Jagger swung around, his eyes wide open, while he shoved the glass to the side. “What the hell. Dude, cut it out! Pauline? Stop the ambulance! Dano, cool it! Help Pauline!”

Virginia yelled, “He’s mine!”

And Jagger countered with, “Trust me, I don’t want him.”

Dano growled. “Get her the hell off of me, but don’t piss her off. Those nails are lethal.”

Buzz must have been confused, but we all sloshed about as he pulled over to the side of the road. My head throbbed like the dickens and my vision hadn’t cleared.

I tried to take a few deep breaths and leaned to the side when suddenly the back doors opened-and I landed in Jagger’s arms.

“Jesus, Pauline!” He held me for a few seconds. “Get her off of Dano,” Jagger ordered a very confused-looking Buzz.

In a few minutes, I was sitting on the bench with an ice pack on the back of my head. The virgin was nestled all snug in her stretcher-with restraints to hold her in place, after ER called in the “problem” and got orders from the ER doc-and Jagger was sitting next to me.

I vaguely remember he and Dano arguing about who would sit in the back for the rest of the ride.

I smiled at Jagger, squinted from the pain, and looked at Virginia, who grinned at me and said, “He left me. Aren’t there eight ways to leave your lover? Eight?”

Eight? Eight?

Was that coincidence or something to do with the threat against me and my case?

Because Robotman had used that exact word.

Dano ordered me to sit in a wheelchair and Jagger pushed me into the ER following the stretcher containing Virginia, who was now chanting in tongues.

“She banged her head,” he said to a male nurse who hurried over to me.

“Hi, I’m a nurse here. Ted. Ted Grosch. How you feeling?”

“How do I look?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Gorgeous.”

I laughed, grabbed my forehead and said, “Ouch.”

Jagger stepped forward. “Come on, buddy. Cat-scan her or MRI her or something. Could be internal bleeding.”

Ted paused and glared at him. “You a doctor?”

Jagger ignored the dig and said, “Do something fast!”

This time I had to chuckle, no matter how much it hurt.

In a short time, Ted had me in the exam room (who wouldn’t, with Jagger standing guard?), seen by the doc and off for a scan, which-thank the good Lord-came back negative. Once the doctor pronounced me just bruised with a prize-winning egg-sized bump, I was released.

When I was rolled out to the waiting room, I smiled-to myself, since it hurt less than the real thing. There sat Buzz, wiping at the spot on his shirt. I think Virginia had spit on his sparklingly crisp top. ER Dano leaned against the wall with his eyes shut, but opened them when Ted said my name, and Jagger, who looked the worst for wear, straightened up.

“What a pathetic-looking crew,” I said.

Dano stood up and grabbed Buzz by the shoulder. “Back to work. She’s all restocked.”

I knew he meant the ambulance was restocked with supplies from the ER but he didn’t go out with Buzz. Oh, no. There seemed to begin a challenge between him and Jagger as to who would sit in the back-to watch me.

How cute.

In a few minutes I was sitting on the bench next to ER Dano.

Hmm. Jagger seemed to have lost his grip on that one. I guessed Dano was king in his ambulance, and no one, not even the mysterious, infamous Jagger, could knock him off his throne.

Did that mean Dano had a stake in the company? He had been there a very long time. Being so burned out, one would think he’d have quit and moved on in life to something less stressful.

I leaned back, shut my eyes and sighed.

“What?” I heard him say.

I opened one eyelid. “Hmm?”

“You made a sound.” He leaned forward as if expecting me to pass out.

“Oh. I’m fine.” I sighed again, just on principle. “It just feels good to be all right. My head is better.” It really hurt like hell, but if I told him, he’d probably insist I lie down on the stretcher or something.

Dano leaned back again. “Good. Good.”