FaaS snippet six

[gilascave]

It turned out his estimate was going to be off - way off. Bosco had counted on a short wait in the ER before they ever got around to reducing the dislocation. But "short wait" turned out to not take into account a four-car meeting of drunken minds, or the two gangs who'd decided to carve their initials in each other's hides.

The ER was swarming with people when they wheeled him in. Civilians, kids dressed up as gang members, uniformed personnel - not just the medics, either. Bosco looked around, counting the cops - it looked like they might out-number the paramedics, by a third.

"Don't even." Kim pushed him back down, and Bosco looked up at her.

"I was just -"

"Uh-huh. You're on the wounded list and I don't mean 'walking wounded'."

Bosco didn't dignify the inferred accusation with a reply. They'd been met by a nurse, coming in, but so far none of the doctors had even glanced their way. Bobby was rattling off medical information to the woman, who was looking around and nodding.

He added another half hour to his time to get home estimate.

"Put him here for now," he heard the nurse say, and they slid the gurney up against the wall.

Bosco knew better than to ask them what they were doing - he could see the chaos that was spilling out of the examining and treatments rooms. Even the waiting area was packed with people who might or might not be injured - yelling loudly enough to make it not matter, because if they cops already over there didn't get the two gangs separated, they'd all be sporting more bruises and worse.

"Lay back down," Kim said. He looked up at her and realised that he'd half-sat up again. She was watching the nearest waiting room, a worried frown on her face.

"Hey, if they're not ready for me, I might as well-" Bosco began, lightly.

She gave him a glare that said she was not amused, nor was she buying it. Bosco just grinned. Kim pointed at him like he was her six year old son. "Stay there!" Then she began walking towards the waiting room, and Caffey fell in at her side, with one backwards glance at Bosco, which said nothing he could read. They hadn't said anything moire about Bosco's 'date' on the ride in, and Bosco was pretty sure Bobby was going to wait a couple days, then pretend to forget about it.

He watched them walk into the waiting area. What they thought they were going to accomplish, Bosco didn't know. But maybe just the presence of two more uniforms would be enough to tip the tide of what was brewing over there.

Bosco settled himself back down on the gurney, but turned his head to watch the hall, both ways. In one direction, the waiting room filled with teenage delinquents, two cops, two paramedics, and half a dozen civilians who probably just wanted to get out of there. The other direction were the treatment areas - all packed to the gills. Bosco could hear the doctors and nurses yelling at each other, moving around like someone had rehearsed this a hundred times and was just now getting all the motions right. That was the only way Bosco could explain how nobody seemed to run into each other, now matter how much they were carrying, or looking in every direction except the one they were going.

Maybe five hours til he got home.

He lay there for what seemed like only five minutes before Yokas came by. She stopped beside the gurney, and looked down with a half-amused smile. "Too far down the triage, eh?"

He smirked, but didn't answer.

"You need anything?"

"Nah. Paper, maybe. Magazine, if they leave me here much longer."

Yokas gave him a surprised look. "You read?" Her teasing tone was half-distracted, though; Bosco could see her glancing towards the treatment rooms where the noise level had been steadily rising.

"Very funny." Bosco glanced that way again, himself. There was a cop down there, looked like Mercy Johnson. Looked like he had his hands full, too.

"I'm gonna go-" Yokas said, already moving that way before finishing her sentence, or even waiting for a reply. Bosco watched her hurry down the hallway and step up to Johnson's side, not seeming to do or say anything beyond helping glare down the guys inside the room.

One room down. Five more to go. Bosco looked around again. The place looked like it was about to explode. He knew better - it didn't quite have that feel, the un-named tension that picked at your nerve endings right before things went totally crazy. This was still just swirling, ready to dissipate into nothingness as quickly as turn the corner into full-blown insanity.

Bosco sat up again, pulling the gurney belts open and swinging his legs over the side. His arm was still strapped down, but he was able to work the ends of the strap free with his good hand. One more pull and he had it off.

His arm was hanging at an angle he'd never quite seen it at, before. Bosco looked around and he saw Simcox, one of the newer rookies on the beat. Bosco called him over.

The kid looked about eighteen - Bosco gave himself a mental kick, the voice in his head he really didn't need to hear starting in about kids too young to be wearing uniforms for real. He wasn't that old, no matter how he might feel, some nights.

"Yes, Boscarelli?" Simcox said, managing not to stammer. Bosco gave him a point for the achievement.

"I need your help with this. Take a hold of my wrist, like this-" He brought his hand up, holding onto the wrist with his good hand.

Simcox gave him a dubious look. The kid might be brighter than he looked, Bosco realised. But then he took a hold of Bosco's wrist, gingerly.

"OK, now, hold tight. Tight as you can."

"Um-" Simcox obviously had no idea what he was being asked to do. But he was tightening his grip, and Bosco ignored the question he was trying to ask.

"Hold tight. Tight as you can," Bosco repeated, putting his good hand on Simcox' shoulder, waiting until the second Simcox had tightened his grip as much as he was going to. Tight enough - and Bosco let go and took a step back, then quickly as he could spun around, yanking his arm backwards.

He could feel the snap of the joint going back into place.

"What the fu-" Simcox dropped his wrist and jumped backwards. "What did you--"

"Thanks, kid." Bosco clapped him on the back. "Let's go see if we can calm things down in there, huh?" He nodded towards the back section of the ER, where the gang members didn't seem to have any cops around to threaten to make their broken ribs seem like nothing worth whining about.

Simcox didn't look totally convinced he wanted to go anywhere - but he fell into step beside Bosco, and they headed back into the fray.