\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be fine.\u201d John said.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cYour voice of reason is more aggravating than anything that could come out of my mouth. You know that right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n It was only when Otto finished his mindless rant did either of them begin to hear the static. It was a sound that both men had become all-too familiar with. It represented not just a call to action but also an escape from bliss for the two EMT\u2019s. It was a sound that seemed to reside in the back of their heads, whether it be when they\u2019re returning home or just starting their patrol. However, there was something different about this transmission.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cWh- -co -t, wash-t-\u201d it staggered.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cRepeat that please.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201c-t code two o- 7th o- Washington-\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cRoger\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n The small percentage of the voice that was decipherable was not one that either man was familiar with. It was a low and raspy voice, one that did not align with the voice of their usual dispatch. Otto, begrudgingly walked out of the door with a look of frustration plastered across his face, leaving Jolly\u2019s with his stomach as empty as it was when he entered. John followed behind him, however it was an expression of confusion that was left on his smooth dark complexion.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The pouring rain hadn\u2019t subsided as they attempted to speed to the ambulance. Water splashing up from puddles up to their waste as they ran. While it was only a code two the feeling of urgency never left the confines of their minds, even in situations not formally categorized as urgent both men felt as if they owed it to themselves to act with urgency. Their ankles trudged through the partially flooded parking lot as they finally climbed into the front seat. If it wasn\u2019t for the underlying feeling of underlying sense of urgency that plagued their mind then it would have been an interesting view to take in, the torrential downpour upon a sea of empty asphalt. However, they could not see very far, for the extent of their vision didn\u2019t expand beyond the light that was emitted from the restaurant\u2019s window. It was an odd sight, their once casual demeanor almost unrecognizable. A once informal and playful relationship now seemed to be nothing but pure, unaltering, professionalism. Only Otto\u2019s shifted expression was able to pull John out of his entranced-like state of focus.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat? “He finally said.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cI remember that address John. The one on Washington, remember? The abandoned one on the corner. The one that looks like it’s on its last leg.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cOh yea, the one that looks like the roof is about to cave in.\u201dJohn chimed in, remembering the address that more vividly now.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe it finally did,\u201d Otto said. \u201cI bet some dumb kids just snuck in at the wrong time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s fine, Cops will give us a rundown.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The rain continued to pick up, what was once just a heavy rainstorm had now morphed into anything that either man had ever seen. It was as if water was being manually poured upon the windshield of the ambulance. Otto turned to John, watching his hand grip the steering wheel. The deep gray color of the highway with its faded white lines did not alter, mile after mile they rode. However, there was suddenly, without warning, a drastic shift in the road. Not in the way that it was painted, or the direction that the highway was going, but a thing, this thing standing there, a figure in a downpour of not just rain, but fear.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Just a small disclaimer today I’m logging a part two to a story that I wrote two weeks ago so just keep that in mind.\u00a0 :))) \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cI hate winter, it\u2019s 6pm and we\u2019re going to have to patrol in pitch black night. Driving through this goddamn storm is going to be hard enough.\u201d … Continue reading “Part Two”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":90,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18424"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/90"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18424"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18424\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18473,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18424\/revisions\/18473"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18424"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18424"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18424"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}<\/p>\n
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