Ambulance (Part 1)
The piercing siren grew louder as it approached, like a sharp knife tearing through the night, and finally came to a stop at the emergency exit entrance on the side of the IRS Seattle office building, accompanied by a screeching sound of brakes.
Red and blue lights flashed wildly on the gray-white building's exterior, shattering the silence of the night. Two ambulances from "Saint Di'an Medical Center" arrived one after the other, their doors suddenly flung open with a "whoosh."
Several emergency medical personnel in dark blue uniforms quickly jumped out of the vehicle and dragged two wheeled stretchers out of the compartment. Their expressions were solemn, but their movements were swift and efficient, clearly familiar with this type of emergency medical call. Leading the group was a male paramedic in his forties with frameless Glasses and a calm demeanor. He held a walkie-talkie and strode towards Karl Miller, who was already waiting at the door, his face pale, and several panicked IRS guards.
"How are the wounded?" the male paramedic asked quickly, his gaze sweeping over Karl and the guards' still-shaken faces.
"Two! Two seriously injured! One with a stab wound to the neck and massive bleeding! The other with a head injury and skull fracture! Quick! Inside! Basement level two!" Karl's voice was hoarse and urgent. He was incoherent, and his hand pointing inside the building was still trembling slightly uncontrollably. The blood on his face hadn't been wiped clean, and his clothes were splattered with dark red stains. He looked utterly disheveled.
"Lead the way!" The male paramedic waved to his colleagues without saying a word. The emergency team immediately pushed the stretcher, following Karl and the guard, through the brightly lit but oppressive lobby, and rushed towards the elevator leading to the underground level.
The elevator descended. The cramped space was filled with the smells of disinfectant, blood, and the suppressed breathing of the crowd. Karl leaned against the cold wall, his hands clenched tightly, his knuckles white. The hellish scene in the interrogation room replayed in his mind—the blood gushing from Tony's neck, the dull thud of Zhao Zhiyong hitting the corner of the table, and those lifeless eyes with an eerie curve... His stomach churned, and he forcibly suppressed the urge to vomit.
"Bite."
The elevator doors opened on the second basement level. A cold, musty smell of air rushed in. More IRS agents and administrative staff who had rushed to the scene had already gathered in the corridor, their faces filled with shock, unease, and bewilderment. Upon seeing the paramedics, they automatically made way for them.
Karl led the rescue team into standard interrogation room B at the end of the corridor. The door was open, and the scene inside was horrifying.
Tony Rodriguez lay on his side, a small pool of semi-congealed dark red blood pooling beneath him. His face was deathly pale, his eyes tightly closed, and his breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible. The sharp protrusion of the bloodstained handcuff chain was still deeply embedded in his flesh on the side of his neck, the surrounding blood already turning black. An IRS medical medic was pressing thick gauze around the wound with trembling hands, but it was clearly to no avail; blood continued to slowly seep out.
Not far away, Zhao Zhiyong was curled up beside a table, with bloodstains beneath him. The wound on his forehead was gruesome and exposed, revealing white bone fragments. His eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, and a calm yet eerie "smile" was frozen on his face. He was no longer breathing.
"My God..." Even experienced paramedics gasped at the sight.
"Prioritize those with vital signs!" The lead male paramedic made a swift judgment, his voice calm and powerful, instantly quelling the panic at the scene. He knelt down beside Tony and quickly checked his carotid pulse and breathing.
"Extremely weak pulse, shallow and rapid breathing, hemorrhagic shock!" he reported quickly, while taking specialized hemostatic forceps, pressure bandages, and an indwelling IV catheter from his first-aid kit. "Prepare to establish two intravenous lines and begin rapid fluid resuscitation! Do not move the foreign object in the neck! Stabilize the position and prepare a cervical collar and spinal board!"
His two paramedics immediately sprang into action, skillfully cutting open Tony's shirt to expose his chest. They then began disinfecting, puncturing, and securing the indwelling needle, connecting the bag of saline solution and blood plasma substitute. Another paramedic carefully placed a neck brace around Tony's neck, and together with another IRS agent, very slowly and steadily moved Tony's body onto the spinal plate and secured it.
The entire process was tense and orderly, yet carried a chilling efficiency. The paramedics' faces showed little emotion, only focus and rapid assessment. When the lead male paramedic applied emergency pressure bandage to Tony's neck wound, his technique was exceptionally steady and precise, effectively compressing the bleeding point without touching the fatal handcuff chain.
"What about this one?" A younger paramedic looked at Zhao Zhiyong beside him.
The male paramedic, without looking up, spoke rapidly, "Check vital signs: pupils, pulse, breathing. If none are present, confirm death, mark the body, and wait for the forensic pathologist. Save the living first!"
The young paramedic immediately knelt down next to Zhao Zhiyong, opened his eyelids, checked his pupils for light reflex with a flashlight (no), felt his carotid artery (no pulse), and listened to his breathing (no).
"Pupils fixed and dilated, no carotid pulse, no spontaneous breathing. Clinically dead," the young paramedic reported, his voice steady.
"Mark him. Put him on the stretcher too, and take him to the hospital for confirmation." The male paramedic gave a brief order. Even if clinical death is confirmed, the procedure still requires him to be taken to the hospital for a doctor's final pronouncement.
Soon, the two critically wounded (one near death, the other already dead) were carefully but quickly transferred to stretchers and covered with thin blankets. Tony's stretcher, connected to an IV drip bag, was the first to be wheeled out of the interrogation room with the help of paramedics. Zhao Zhiyong's stretcher followed closely behind.
"I'll go with the ambulance!" Karl said to the male paramedic, his voice still unsteady. He had to go, firstly as an investigator at the scene, and secondly... he couldn't let Tony and Zhao Zhiyong out of his sight, especially Zhao Zhiyong. Although he looked dead, what if...
"Sure, but don't get in our way." The male paramedic glanced at him, nodded, and didn't ask any further questions.
A group of people pushed the stretcher, under the watchful eyes of countless people, through the corridor, into the elevator, back to the first floor, and rushed out of the building's side door.
The night wind was biting, and the red and blue lights were still glaring. Two stretchers were pushed into the back of two ambulances. In the ambulance where Tony was, besides the paramedics, only Karl and another relatively calm young agent whom he had designated squeezed in by the back door. In the ambulance where Zhao Zhiyong was, he was accompanied by another IRS agent and a paramedic.
The car door slammed shut, shutting out the outside world. The engine roared, and the siren wailed again as the two ambulances sped into the darkness, heading towards the "Saint Di'an Medical Center."
Inside the carriage, the space was cramped but brightly lit. A stretcher was fixed to rails on the floor. Tony lay on it, his face ashen, with thick pressure bandages wrapped around his neck, but thin streaks of blood were still seeping out.
Two paramedics, one on each side, closely monitored his vital signs on the monitor—his heart rate was extremely weak and erratic, and his blood pressure was alarmingly low. The lead male paramedic (who can now be called "Medic A") was kneeling beside the stretcher, adjusting the IV drip rate, and occasionally pressing Tony's carotid artery to assess his pulse.
Another younger paramedic (Medic B) sat on a folding chair inside the vehicle, tidying up used equipment and discarded packaging.
Karl and the young agent squeezed into the front of the carriage, near the driver's compartment partition, gripping the handrails tightly, their bodies swaying with the vehicle's bumps. Karl's eyes were fixed on Tony on the stretcher, occasionally glancing at the rear window of the carriage—through the glass, he could see the roof lights of the ambulance behind them flashing.
Time ticked by amidst the wailing sirens and the jolting of the vehicle. Every second felt incredibly long. Karl's heart was still pounding. The horrific scene in the interrogation room, the blood gushing from Tony's neck, and the image of Zhao Zhiyong crashing into the corner of the table played on a recurring nightmare in his mind. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
He forced himself to calm down and began to think about the next steps: sealing off the scene, notifying superiors, writing a report, dealing with the internal investigation... and Tony, he had to survive! If Tony died, things would escalate completely... and Zhao Zhiyong, was he really dead? That eerie calm...
Just as Karl was in a state of confusion, Medic A suddenly made a move that caught Karl's attention.
Medic A took a prepared syringe from the first-aid kit, filled with a pale yellow liquid. He skillfully flicked off the needle cap, expelled the air, then pulled up Tony's other arm that wasn't receiving an IV, located the vein in the elbow crease, disinfected it, inserted the needle, and injected the medication. The entire procedure was completed smoothly and efficiently.
This is normal; it could be a cardiac stimulant, a blood pressure regulator, or other emergency medication. Karl didn't think much of it.
But then, Medic A gave Medic B a wink. Medic B nodded, took out a syringe, and walked toward the young agent next to Karl.
"You need to calm down, buddy. You look terrible," said Medic B in a calm tone, even with a hint of professional concern.
The young detective was indeed still shaken; he paused for a moment, then instinctively reached out his arm.
Medic B also efficiently disinfected, inserted the needle, and administered the medication. As the medication was injected into the vein, the young detective relaxed slightly, his tense nerves seemed to ease a bit, and his eyes became somewhat dazed.
That... that seems to make sense? Seeing the young agent relax, Karl felt a slight tension ease in his own heart. Perhaps he needed a little more...
Just then, after treating Tony, Medic A stood up and turned to Karl. He was holding another syringe that had already been prepared.
"Detective, you're in a bad state too. A little sedative will help you calm down and handle what's coming next." Medic A's voice was calm, carrying a convincing sense of professionalism. He approached Karl, and under the light, his eyes behind his Glasses were calm and unwavering.
Karl stared at the syringe, the needle gleaming coldly. He really needed to calm down; he felt his brain was about to explode from a jumble of chaotic thoughts and fears. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and extended his arm.
Medic A's movements remained steady. The sterile cotton ball wiped the skin, bringing a cool touch. The needle tip approached...
In that very instant!
Like a flash of Karl, a detail he had overlooked, an anomaly that his brain had automatically filtered out under extreme panic and pressure, suddenly sprang to his attention with crystal clarity!
Just now, when Medic A administered the intravenous injection to Tony, the technique—the angle of needle insertion, the posture of holding the needle, the steady and precise force of the wrist when pushing the medication—was not the kind of cautious or hesitant technique commonly seen by emergency responders or nurses in ordinary hospitals. It was an extremely crisp, decisive, and even mechanically precise and efficient technique! More like... more like the movements he had seen before in military hospitals or during certain special training sessions, when battlefield medics established emergency intravenous access for wounded soldiers in high-pressure, noisy, and dangerous environments! Fast, accurate, and steady, without any unnecessary frills, everything aimed at speed and effectiveness!
Even highly trained paramedics in ordinary ambulances, when faced with a terminally injured patient suffering from massive bleeding in the carotid artery area, might inevitably exhibit a subtle tension or caution while operating in the bumpy moving vehicle. But Medic A was not like that. Every movement he made was frighteningly calm and precise, as if it had been programmed a thousand times.
Furthermore, the way he glanced at Medic B just now, and the smooth way Medic B administered the injection to the young agent... it was all too smooth, so smooth that it didn't seem like handling an emergency, but rather like... executing some predetermined procedure?
A chill, like a cold, venomous snake, instantly coiled around Karl's heart, freezing his outstretched arm in mid-air!
He abruptly raised his head, staring intently at the face of Medic A, who was so close to him. Under the light, the other person's composed face, with its frameless Glasses, suddenly appeared unfamiliar and dangerous to him!
Behind the Glasses, the calm eyes now seemed unfathomable, like two pools of cold, stagnant water. There was none of the urgency or gravity expected of a paramedic facing a critically injured person; only a deep, professional... indifference?
Something's not right!
Karl's heart pounded wildly, almost shattering his chest! He wanted to pull his arm back, to question, to warn!
But it was too late.