Dead Beat Dates & Deities - Goddess of Tornado Alley Series Book One

Chapter Three

It wasn't the first time Frank had been to All Saints Hospital. It was the first time she'd arrived in an ambulance, its siren screaming and red and blue lights emanating from the top like an arcade game. She'd never been strapped to a bodyboard before either, or had her head encased in a neck brace while the front of her reeked of regurgitated refried beans and tequila. She was convinced that she could have lived a very long and happy life without any of these experiences. On a scale of one to ten, this day was quickly sinking lower and lower into the negative digits. Unfortunately, it looked as though there were several hours left of it to endure.

"Where do you live?"

Frank felt the cuff around her arm tighten as the medic squeezed the black bulb in his large fist. "Here. In Sparrow," she answered. Her throat felt scratchy and her stomach was still unsettled.

"Where do you work?"

"Central Savings and Loan."

"What do you do there?"

Frank blinked her eyes and realized how exhausted she was. All she wanted to do was climb into the footed pajamas she'd never admit to owning before cuddling up in front of the television with an endless supply of The Nanny and Full House reruns. If those weren't available, she knew she would settle for a hot bath and a toothbrush.

"Are you hitting on me?" she asked the medic. "Because now that I'm seeing you right side up it's obvious that you're something special to look at. Honestly, though, I've had a really crappy day, and I'm not feeling well at all." I'm not smelling so good either, she thought, wondering how much they would charge her for throwing up on the neck brace they'd confined her to.

The paramedic squinted at the reading and pulled the cuff from her arm with the loud ripping of Velcro. Frank shuddered as the sound vibrated between her ears. There was an intense throbbing in her temples and her right eyelid felt gooey and wet. It was getting harder to close that eye and her lashes were matted into spikes. "Just keeping you alert, Ms. Reed. I believe you've got yourself a concussion and I don't want you nodding off. This doesn't seem right," he muttered the last part to himself and fastened the cuff a little tighter this time. "How old are you?"

Frank sighed. She thought about lying but couldn't summon the strength. "Twenty-nine. But not by much."

"Is your blood pressure usually this high?"

"Um, I don't know," she answered. The last time her blood pressure had been checked she'd been at the gynecologist. If it hadn't been high during that appointment, it should have been. Pelvic exams sucked. At least the clinical kind did, suffered while wearing a thin cloth gown with your feet hiked up in the air by a pair of cold stirrups.

"ETA, two minutes," the driver and second paramedic called from the front seat.

The cuff squeezed again, and the siren blared on as they made their way to the ambulance bay at the front of the hospital.

"So, what do you do there at the bank?"

Frank closed her eyes and focused on not throwing up a second time. "I'm a commercial loan officer."

"Sounds interesting."

She did a mental eye roll. "Sure it does."

Frank felt the tires bump up a small curb, and the absence of the siren as they pulled beneath the overhang was nearly deafening in its silence. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop there was another flutter of activity. Frank felt disoriented as the gurney was lifted out into the chilly night air. Metal legs beneath her dropped down with a decisive clunk and the bay doors of the ambulance were slammed shut.