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(Not much "action" in this one, FYI)
 
 

I hadn't even finished warming up when the accident happened... probably hadn't run much more than a quarter-mile when I heard the slam behind me, so I stopped and turned.
A car was off the road, less than a hundred meters away. Another one had tried to hang a U-turn, but the right front fender was crunched. A guy got out and reefed it away from the tire. He was wobbly - aw shit, I thought, that clown is shitfaced.
Hoping to catch his license plate number, I hightailed it in that direction. The guy getting away saw me and tried to hurry. He had to be drunk.
I saw his plate as he raced off. While I was still sure of what I'd just seen, I scratched three numbers and three letters into my arm with my thumbnail, underlining the digit that I wasn't entirely sure about...
The driver of the car that got hit looked like he was hurt. Apparently he'd picked off a mailbox - out on Jennings? Some kind of a post. That would've have been enough to stop the car, I thought. When I got to his window, that mystery cleared right up.

The car was fifteen or twenty years old, but the plastic under the steering column had shattered. A big chunk had speared him on the inner thigh, about halfway up. Serious bleeding, there. Too bad he had shorts on, instead of jeans...
"Hey," I snapped at him. "Yo, dude."
Grimacing, he looked in my direction... tugging on a cigarette he must've lit right before the other car hit his. He nodded wearily.
"I'm an EMT," I told him, carefully and clearly. "Used to work on an ambulance. You're bleeding quite a bit. Right leg. That big artery."
"Yeee... yeah," he groaned.
"Can I get in the car, through the door on the other side?"
"Paramedic?"
"Junior paramedic," I said, grinning.
"C'mon in."
"Does the door work?"
He squinted at it. "It used to."
"Okay. Sit tight." I loped around the back-end of the car, and let myself in. His phone was still on the dash - cigarettes and lighter, too. That seemed weird, considering he sideswiped the little pole.
"Ow," he hissed.
"Relax. Try to relax," I ordered him, eyeing the bloody leg. "I'm Tico. Tico. What's your name?"
"Saul. I'm... so dizzy."

From how much blood was on his leg and the floor, I thought applying pressure couldn't wait. Somebody else might have called in the accident already. I wondered if pressure above the cut would be enough, since the impaled object might have been blocking more blood loss. It was a clean wedge that didn't appear to be cracked, just deep enough to hit his femoral artery. He was too pale. Well, all I could do was try, whether the ambulance could get there real soon or not. I snapped my fingers at him.
"Listen," I said. "You're weak because you're bleeding. A big artery is cut. I've got to push in, higher up on your leg. If this wasn't important, to do right now, I wouldn't touch you. Pressure points... work. Do you understand?"
He groaned out smoke again, and nodded. "Huh... hurry."
When I started to push, he hissed - and turned away from me. That just about finished what he'd started by moving around, and the plastic wedge eased further out. I nodded - and pulled on it. Oh, yeah... another eighth of an inch and it was free, no cracked pieces, no hooked end. There wasn't a lot of blood following it out, so apparently it hadn't cut the artery through-and-through. I used my other hand to press gently on the wound.
He started to growl nice and loud, studying what I was doing - and let out a sigh. Nodded.
"Better?"
"I... shit, yeah."
"We need an ambulance," I said, "Saul - the bleeding is slower now. After I call the cops, I'll need to push down more. That won't be nice, but it won't be for long, I hope. Gotta keep the blood in you."
"Do it," he said.
"Wanna smoke?" somebody else offered.
"Yeah," I chuckled - and then remembered nobody else was... well, was apparently there yet.
Three incredibly weird things happened, one right after the other.

The poor guy's cigarettes moved. I saw the pack lift up and scoot toward me, as if it was in somebody's hand. One smoke slid out, and came to my lips. My right wrist was grabbed, and some invisible hand set my palm on the bloody cut.
And then - it wasn't even a complete surprise, by that point - the phone on the dash floated toward his window.

"Hold on!" I yelled, making the cigarette bounce. I had to be imagining this shit - later, I'd surely figure out why I wasn't seeing whoever grabbed the phone, and fed me a smoke.
"It has a mind of its own," Saul sorta whispered to me.
"He doesn't need to go to the hospital," the same voice said. It sounded like a big guy, maybe around my age.
"Hassler," the injured guy groaned.
"Wait!" I snapped at the phone. "This is the wrong artery to bust open. He has to get it sewn up." The other smoker and I looked at each other.
A disposable lighter came and served me up. Magic. No hands. Well, huh.
"He doesn't have insurance," the invisible "helper" said quietly. "Health insurance."
"This is serious," I said, nodding toward the cut as I took another drag. At least the pressure I was adding above and on the injury was slowing the bleed a good bit. "Saul. What day is it? Day or date?"
"It's... Thursday. May f-fifteen."
"Good." I thought it was the sixteenth, but he got the day of the week right. Prompt response. "What city and state are we in?"
"Las kuh... Cruces. Ow. N-M."
"Alright!" Also correct. I thought we could hang in there. I looked at the phone again. "He's lost a lot of blood. Needs fluids now. Give me the phone, dammit."
"Shit..."
"Hass," Saul said, "he sounds like he means it."
"I could get a med here, uh, soon."
Looking at Saul, I rolled my eyes - and took a good, long drag.

The phone clicked. Four times, altogether. I was glad to see it was "dialing" 911.
"Yes. It's gotta happen," I nodded.
"You better know what you're talking about."
"He sounds like he does," Saul sighed.
"Too much blood," I said to him, keeping it quiet. "Almost none leaking out now, which is good, so -"
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" a woman's voice said - from the phone.
"Hi," the mysterious guy said. "My dude's been hit - by a drunk driver. Bleeding pretty bad. Thigh. I got... pressure on his leg."
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Jennings. Uh, eastbound. Right side of the road, just off it, and we're maybe half a click past the big auto parts store." I watched another cigarette float to Saul's mouth, and the old one was smoothly pressed against the end of it. Very weird things, today.
"Okay. Jennings Boulevard - past Gear-up? Behind you, or in front of you?"
"Yeah," Saul sighed.
"Yes. It's behind us. I'm a paramedic, and I was running by. But I smoke -"
"No," I whispered. "EMT."
"EMT," Saul chuckled.
"I mean, I'm an EMT," the phantom said. "Sorry."
"No problem. How much blood is out?"
I looked at the floor again. "Uh... three pints? At least." That was repeated by the mysterious guy - but more firmly. "I think," I whispered.
"Hold on," the 911 lady said, "I'm about to get confirmation."
"Asshole," the invisible guy said - right next to my ear - "I could've gotten him to a med I know in about five minutes."
"How? The engine died," I whispered, "and maybe it won't start right back up."
After a pause, the phone faced me again. An invisible hand swiped me across the side of the head.
"Hey -"
"Hello?" the woman said.
"Still here," our helpful phantom drawled.
"The ambulance is about a mile-and-a-half away. E.T.A. is three minutes. Keep applying pressure. They can start an I.V. if it's needed right away."
"Much appreciated," the unseen guy said. "It's a blue Ridermate, just off the road."
"Number-one lane," I whispered.
"North side."
"Blue Ridermate," she confirmed. "Hang on."
I mouthed "Thank you" - and the phantom chuckled a few times. It sounded... calm. The phone flew alongside me.

"Last drag, for now," and there was a slight pull - around my cigarette. I caught on, and sucked on that baby. "He can keep his."
"Why?"
"You're the do-gooder. Who runs," and the voice laughed at me. "Caved in, and got him a smoke lit. The fucker begged for one. Couldn't reach 'em himself. Told you to help yourself, too. " It chuckled. "I shoulda given this howler a joint."
"Oooooh." Saul seemed to be agreeing.
His bangs moved over - as if somebody was making that move to reassure him. "Some do-gooder we got here, huh? Caving in - no, making you smoke."
"Make me? That's your thing!" the poor kid barked, smirking away.
"Oh, you're gonna get it," the phantom promised.
"Like I don't get it already."
"Uh," I asked him, "what the hell?"
He started to talk, but his lower jaw moved up - as if it was being held closed.
"You're gonna get filled in," the hovering voice teased... closer to my head again, but loud enough for Saul to hear too. "Oh, man. If you actually saved this dirtbag's life, I'm... gonna owe you."
"Damn," Saul hissed, moving his now-released jaw around. "Don't... reward him, asshole. Not the usual way."
The phantom laughed.
"What do I need to know?" I asked Saul.
He opened his mouth, apparently trying to figure out where to start -
"And it's here. Ambulance," Hassler boomed.
"Such a smartass," the other guy groaned.

They got Saul on oxygen and D5W right away... power-taped the wound, and tightened a pad on a cinch-strap that applied pressure about an inch higher than I'd been doing it, right on the artery.
The other paramedic was a Hispanic woman, not much older than Saul. When she handed me some big hand sanitizer wipes, I also got a pitch about blood-borne diseases, and that it was really on me to confirm that Saul didn't have anything bad.

The cops ordered a tow truck, and talked to Saul first.
I waited behind the kid's car - and found the cigarettes in my sock. The lighter was there too. Thanks, Hass-whatever, I thought, lighting one up. What a bad example for the other runners, and the kids.
When the cop ambled over to get my version of events, I didn't even get so much as a funny look when I lit up another smoke right away. He was in no hurry, and I took that to be a good sign about how Saul was doing. He cussed quietly when I told him I hadn't seen the bangup, and asked me that same thing about three different ways. Making sure.
"I didn't catch his last name," I said, looking at where he laid in the ambulance.
"Get over there and ask him," the cop said. "Don't take the cigarette in there."
Nodding, I took a drag and approached. Saul saw me coming, so I nodded. A paramedic next to him frowned at me, so I stopped walking. "Where are you taking him?"
"North Metro," the guy said.
"They gonna want to admit him?"
"Probably not," the woman said, alongside me. She was heading toward her partner. "Good timing," she whispered. "Femoral artery. The pressure. Seriously."
"Glad I was close by." Saul was looking at me, so I grinned.
"Hey," Saul said.
"Hey, back. I owe you some smokes. If you want I could pick you up, at the hospital, and get you home."
"Yeah. Alright. Thanks."
"I need your name?"
"Saul Dyson. With a Y."
"Tico Larrones," I said clearly, patting my chest. "See you soon."
"He did good," the paramedic told him, with a little grin.
"I guess so."
I waved, and stepped away. When the cop looked up from his digipad, I pointed at my own chest. "You got my info, right? Need me any more right now?"
He thought it over, and shook his head. "Glad to get that perp's plate," he said, gesturing at my arm. "A lawyer might check on your... EMT license."
"Expired."
"Don't matter. Good thing you were close enough."
"Yeah, that's not a good artery to cut. I'm gonna go home, clean up, and go to the hospital. Pick that dude up when he's sewn back together."
"Okay." Then the cop's radio beeped and squawked, and he reached for it - vaguely shoo'ing me away with one hand.
I looked back at the ambulance, but the back doors were closed. My house was west, and I was already aimed that way. Two more streets.

Stashing the cigarette butt with the other ones I'd already stuck in the pack... made it too easy, so I got myself another one fired up.
"Tico loves to smoke too."
Dammit, there was no one anywhere near me. Why was that guy a fuckin' phantom? Saul said "it," not "he," I reminded myself... wondering if I'd hit my head or something. "Uh-huh."
"Were you serious, back there? Gonna go to the hospital and get Saul home?" It was sticking with me right then, whether I wanted it to or not.
"Didn't go far, huh?" Not that you're real, or anything... but there was no good reason to argue with a hallucination.
An invisible fist popped me on the tricep.
"Shit. Yeah, I meant that. They're probably gonna discharge him, after a few stitches. My truck's that way." I gestured down the street.
"I guess you were the right guy, in the right place."
"Uh-oh," I said. Parking my cigarette between my lips, I felt the punched spot. No real damage, but I hoped to discourage any more male-bonding bullshit.
"How far away is your crash-pad?"
"You heard me give the cops my address."
Sassy laughter. "So I already know."
I shrugged, and took a long drag as I walked. There was no additional reply coming, so I cocked my head back. "So, uh, what are you?"
"I'm Hassler," it boasted.
"The one and only."
"Yeeee-up."
"You sound like an ordinary guy," and I wished I'd just kept my mouth shut, "Strike that. It wasn't meant as an insult. To you."
I got another arm-punch, but it was less fierce. "Good recovery. I'll let it slide."
"Ah. But the word... 'phantom' occurred to me earlier."
"That works," it decided.
"Yeah." I was having the most elaborate daydream I could remember. There was no doubt in my mind that I'd snap out of it, or learn a lot more about it real soon. I managed to keep from saying anything so tempting, though, and brought the cigarette up again.

I turned up my driveway...
"You can't do better than this?" it teased.
"Fuck you. Don't talk yet," I muttered quietly. "We're almost inside."
Low chuckling came from right over me as I unlocked the front door.
As soon as I shut it, the laughter got a little rowdy. "Now we're talkin'," it teased. "Expensive gaming units."
"I gotta entertain myself."
"So, so wrong, Tico. My man. Just you wait."
"Like I got a choice?"
"Smart li'l fucker. Hee hee hee."
Nothing seemed safe to say, so I shook my head a little. "After I wash up, I'll go there and wait for him. That was my plan."
"I'll ride there with you. Saul's gonna need a nurse - no, make that an aide."
"Lucky Saul," I muttered.
"Just... you... wait."
That was a little intriguing, true enough, but I shivered too. As I walked to the bathroom, Hassler laughed at me. It was probably a good thing that it was so happy.

Stalling for time didn't seem like a profitable move. I pulled clean clothes on, lit another cigarette and eased my way back into the living room.

Sneaky laughter. "Well, because I'm such a cool... phantom, I'll let Saul fill you in first. My pal's really needin' a smoke, right about now, since they don't let you howlers do that inside -"
"Howlers." I had to groan.
"Easy, there. Not like... howls of pain. Mindblowing pleasure, Tico."
"Aw, fuck, I'm good now, thanks. If Saul is into that, you guys can have it."
"No, he'd run like the wind - but I'm faster," the smartass voice said, proud as anything.
I actually considered sprinting for the door, myself. It seemed much more likely that this sassy magician would get to my truck well before I did.
"Eee-eeasy," it commanded.
"Like I got a choice," I admitted, eating smoke.
"Saul knows how it is. You might be a good influence on each other. I'd better get you guys a carton of smokes pretty soon. A case of decent beer -"
"Fuc-cck. Good influence," I drawled, opening the door.

North Metro was five or six miles away. Hass didn't say anything. I was waiting to turn left on Jennings, smokin' nervously. "Ain't like you to be so quiet."
"I like... the element of surprise." The pack of cigarettes flew up to the dash, from the seat, and then it came back - between my legs.
"Boo," I sighed.
Easy cackling. "Let's get him."
"When they're done. They're at least gonna want another bag of... salt-and-sugar water in him. Probably a local anesthetic, but -"
"English. I ain't you."
I fought not to sigh real loud. "The docs won't knock him out. That's my guess. So they can fix his artery. He'll probably be sent home."
"Oooooh."
"I bet they tell him not to drink tonight. Painkillers, antibiotics -"
"But he can get baked," it shot back.
"Get me out of here," I pretended to whine. "You."
"Not a chance. You've done enough running."
I finished a drag, and shook my head. "But I'm a smoker."
"Bad animal. Maybe a life-saver?"
"Stop it," I sighed, turning right on Apache.
"You need more tats."
I looked at the rear-view mirror, repeating those words to myself. "Saul has a few. Did you talk him into that ink? All up and down his arms?"
Sneaky chuckling.

It asked me a few basic questions about myself, as we came to Northline. The hospital was in sight.
"We can't talk in the waiting room," I said.
"You can't smoke in there, either."
That reminded me of something... "Was Saul high? When he got hit? He seems, well, clear, but they'll probably pop him for DWI if they tested for that."
"Uh... No. Whew! Not since this morning. I was gonna get him good n' stoned when he got home."
"Alright, then." I pulled into the parking lot.

Hass laid low when I was asking for news. There weren't too many people in the waiting room, so I had high hopes.
The nurse went in the back, and came out again after about three minutes. Saul needed that liter of D5W too, but they were done otherwise. They'd test his blood soon, and then he could go.
That called for another smoke. I got well away from the doors, readied the lighter -
Hands squeezed my sides.
Turning and walking faster didn't get Hass to let go of me.
"I'm awful grateful," it teased.
And the fuckin' fingertips scootched between my lower ribs.
I barely managed to grab the cigarette before I started to whine. Couldn't see any hands there -
"Let it out," the sneaky bastard demanded. "Laugh for me."
Shaking my head, I erupted - one of those long, wet fights not to bark crazy laughter. It ended the way they usually do.
"Aaaah haw haw huh huh huh hah!" My knees were weak.
"Thaaaat's it," Hass boasted, holding me up so I didn't drop.
"No no nnnn-naaah hah haaaa-aaah huh hhh-huh."

sep2020