The Missing Link by Erica Pensini - HTML preview

PLEASE NOTE: This is an HTML preview only and some elements such as links or page numbers may be incorrect.
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.

Chapter 17

I open my eyes to the sound of screaming sirens, lying in what I reckon is an ambulance. A young girl is sitting beside my stretcher, she smiles and says something I don’t understand.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Dutch…”, I tell her, and my voice echoes oddly in my ears

“My name is Anne”, she starts, “You are ok”

“My shoulder hurts”, I say in return to her comment

“Don’t worry, we will help you. What is your name?”, she asks

“Iris Meyers”, I say without lying, and bite my tongue right after

But then if these people are legitimate paramedics I must disclose my real identity, no?

All of a sudden it strikes me that I will have to pay for whatever medical care I receive. I curse myself for not seeing the bloody car come my way.

“Are you American?”, she asks

“Yes”, I say, and close my eyes

I don’t want to think now, although I know I can’t afford lowering my guard.

“What will you do to me when we reach the hospital?”, I ask without opening my eyes

“X-rays will be the first thing. A man was there when you fell, you crossed with a red light. Then you saw a car was coming, you saved yourself when the driver was at the throw of a stone”, she said

I open my eyes, smiling at the way she phrased the sentence. It feels good to smile.

“So I didn’t actually get hit. I think I remember, I just tripped on a pole and passed out”, I tell myself out loud, relieved at the realization that I’ll probably be able to walk out of the hospital soon

“Yes, I think you lost conscience because you were scared. The man said you were running very fast”, the girl says

“Yes, I was running very fast…”

“Were you late?”, she asks

I am not sure if she just wants to keep me talking to prevent me from falling asleep or if her questions have meaning for her, but before I can reply the ambulance slows down and comes to a halt.

“We bring you out”, Anne tells me with her Dutch accent, as two big blonds open the door and jump up the van to carry my stretcher inside the hospital.

A fine rain is starting to fall, I am just realizing this as I stare at the sky from my stretcher, face up.

Strange as it might seem, I feel suddenly at ease, grateful to be here, grateful that someone’s pushing me somewhere while I lie under a blanket and a wet sky.

I’m good for now, and good for now seems as great as it can ever get.