Machiavelli

Well, it’s been a quiet day and in fact I am quite fucking bored. The searing summer heat in Western Australia can put the city of Perth in a coma sometimes. We’re parked up at McDonald's sitting in the aircon waiting for something, anything, to happen. Outside, the heat waves rising off the tarmac are bending light. My partner Andy, his stomach full of processed goodness, is nodding in and out of sleep. The hypnotic hum of the engine isn’t helping him keep the eyelids open. When the revs rise due to the aircon kicking back in he stirs. We don’t play music on days like this. It causes too many arguments. I am alert and full of nervous energy. I just want to people watch but only the brave or the fucking foolish cart about on foot in this heat.

The couple of glass pipes I smoked earlier have staved off any need for me to have any food or a nap. They weren’t big hits though. I can’t be rocking up like an extra from Mad Max should we get a call. Andy has refrained today; he has a lot more common sense than me for the most part. Professionalism too. In fact, everyone in the Ambulance Service does. I am not well liked by my colleagues, and most people in general, due the way I go about my business. The results speak for themselves though. Not one person have I fucking lost in that van. Four years, not one, and I have attended every type of call out you can imagine. From the most fucking mundane to the most extreme crazy blood-soaked shit, you have seen. It’s fucking unheard of. What happens to them at the hospital is none of my concern. I get them there alive.

I gather up the packaging Andy has left strewn about my foot well. The fucking greasy smell from the paper bags turn my already knotted stomach. I climb out of the van, the heat blasts like a hairdryer in my face, and head across the carpark to dump the rubbish. I wonder if the McDonald's corporation knows how much drug taking they facilitate with their car parks. When I started out it was the place to fucking be. Macca’s car park for a fucking cone and then inside for a bite. The sun has hit like a laser beam and turned this short walk to the bin into a sweaty affair.

I hear the blast of our horn and turn to see Andy has started the lights too. Woo. Here we go. The pipes have really hit home and now I’m fucking raring for action. I run across, jump in and we are off. I am already pissing with sweat. I hit the button for the siren and get the radio going. The “Ghostbusters” theme starts and the two of us are cracking up as we tear through the traffic.

My excitement for the call fades fast. No mass car pile-up, no bikie gang war or insane ice head in a stabbing frenzy at a train station. Male, 45, Chest pains, pain and tingles shooting down his left arm. I just know it’s going to be some slovenly dick who's done fuck all to warrant saving. If he does survive, (and let's be honest with me on the case he will) he will no doubt ever change his ways. One of those guys. The cunts air con is probably after breaking, and he can’t hack the 40-degree heat, so he called 000 in a fucking panic.

Sure, as fuck, I’m not wrong. The house is a fucking pit. We are left in by the cunts wife and instantly get hit by the smell of cigarettes and stale sweat. She doesn’t say much, just points to the room he is in. Old mate is on the floor in between the TV and a manky worn-out couch, His sweaty imprint was dark, almost black, compared to the rest of the fucking charming sun faded brown. We quickly tend to him even though the smell in the house makes me want to puke.

We get him stabilized and onto the gurney and push him out to the van. He is now wheezing and crying. Fucking great.

“Please don’t let me die, I’m not ready to go” sobs the slob

“You’ll be fine mate” I tell him while packing him away.

“Don’t worry madam we will take good care of him and get him back to you.” Andy says to his wife, who has declined to ride in the ambo. There is a look in her eyes that says, “Don’t let him come back.”

I give her a nod and jump in the back with old mate. Couldn’t really blame her for that look. I start imagining her cleaning the house straight away. Opening windows and stripping the rotten cushion covers off the couch. A smile on her face as she tries to cleanse the place of the smells and stains that have also soaked into her depressed downtrodden soul. For her fucking sake I hope the cunt kicks it after we drop him off. . . because it’s not gonna happen on the way there. His sobbing is making me cringe. I just want to tell the fucker to shut the fuck up and dope him to the eyeballs. Apparently, that type of behaviour is frowned upon in our respectable profession.

We have no need to rush too much, so Andy isn’t punching it through the traffic. The siren is drowning out this crying cunt. Thank fuck. I drop a “you’ll be fine mate; you are in good hands” every now and again in the hope some form of reassurance will shut him up. I feel us slowing down which usually means traffic or a junction or something because I know we are a bit away from the hospital yet. Then fucking BANG. I’m knocked to the fucking floor and shit is flying everywhere.

What the fuck was that?” I roar out.

We both jump out to see what the fuck happened. Wouldn’t you fucking know it. Woman fucking driver has only gone and T-boned us. I’m about to begin roaring at her but Andy shuts that down quick smart. She is fucking bawling crying. Of course she fucking is. Andy tries to calm her down and see if she is OK while I inspect the damage. There’s fuck all. She didn’t hit us that hard. Some superficial damage. Suspension may be a small bit off kilter but nothing that couldn’t be checked out later. I stick my head in the back. Old fucking stinky is still crying. Good. He’s alive. In a bit more shock after the hit but still alive.

“Oi Andy mate, let’s fucking roll”

He looks at me in disbelief.

“What? No. We have to report this. We’ll get another bus out here and take him. We can’t leave the scene of an accident”

A fucking crowd is gathering and are acting the good Samaritans. Fucking old duck is still bawling into her deflated airbag and I can feel my blood boiling. I’m ready to melt through the already blistering tarmac.

“Fuck that. Let’s go. We’ll tell the cops it was an emergency. I’ll fucking drive so it doesn’t upset that precious fucking conscience of yours you soft cock.”

He’s a bit shocked but I see him quickly resign himself to the fact that I’m fucking going. I slam the back doors and hop into the pilot seat. People in the crowd are shouting at us to stop. I roll down the window.

“Fuck off mate, a man’s life is in the fucking balance here.”

“And what about this woman?” one of them shouts back.

“She’s fucking fine, nothing a Kleenex won’t fix.”

With that we fuck off. The van doesn’t feel right as we cruise along. The back left feels bumpy and there's a loud knocking noise. We sustained some damage alright. Fuck it, she’ll be right. The traffic parts way before us and I pick up speed. My teeth are grinding a bit now. The fucking knocking starts to worsen but I am 100% focused on the task at hand. I am getting this cunt in the back to the hospital. I get up another 10 kph or so and then she starts to shake violently.

“What the fuck? Slow the fuck down Paulie.” comes a shout from the back.

I can hear all our shit being thrown around the place back there too. I keep her charging. We’re not far now. With that there is a huge fucking bang, and we drop on that back left side. She pulls all over the place. The sound of metal scraping on the road drowns out Andy’s roaring. I watch as a wheel bounces past us, over the middle parting, across the two lanes on the other side of the road and into some bushes of some house on the far side. Thank fuck for that. That fucking thing could have wiped out some poor family on the way home from a great day out. All laughing, joking and happy. Then BOOSH! Obliterated by a high velocity projectile let loose by my stubbornness and insane need to get my job done. A need that has been intensified by the narcotics. I’m roaring laughing like some nut job from a movie. There is a massive shower of sparks filling my wing mirror.

More blue flashing lights and sirens are added into the mix. I’m not fucking stopping though. The noise is fucking deafening. Sirens, scraping metal, Andy’s angry screams and of course my maniacal laughter. Still, I can’t fucking hear old mate crying anymore. I power on to the hospital. We are nearly there. Out to my left I see an unmarked police car. It’s my old friend Det. Maher pointing at me to pull over (We’ve had a few run-ins down the years). Part of the Irish diaspora here in Oz. Fucking crooked as they come. I think all those Irish cunts are to be honest. We are only a couple hundred metres from the ER, so I shoot him a glance and shake my head in subordination.

People come running out, phones in hand, as we pull up. We probably sound like a bunch of terrorists carrying out an attack or something. Funny how many people fucking run out to see. Imagine that was the case. People offering themselves up for target practice so they can get a video for whatever fucking social platform they are using. That shit sickens me.

We come to a grinding halt outside the E.R. I hear Andy crash to the floor again.

“You FUCK!”

“Ah fucking settle down mate.” I shout back as I’m unbuckling my belt and jumping out.

The scene is chaotic. There’s doctors, nurses and security guards all at the front door in disbelief. Patients outside for a smoke in their fucking dressing gowns standing with their mouths open, their ciggies falling to the ground. (Can you fucking believe that? Wearing a dressing gown in this fucking heat?) Everyone starts shouting. I don’t know is it at us or are they just in a fucking panic. Smoke is pouring off the back left side of the ambulance, the speed bumps on the way in did the final job on the axle. The cops charge in behind us, sirens fucking blaring. They jump out and start shouting too. I just want everyone to shut the fuck up so we can get this cunt out of the back and inside the hospital. That’ll be my 100% patient survival rate intact. Oh, how some of the cunts in the Ambo service would love to see that fall.

We pull the patient out and the nurses come and take the wailing idiot away from us for his own safety. We are about to follow them in when Andy stops short, turns and pins me against the side of the vehicle. His hand is pushing on my chest hard making breathing difficult.

“What the fuck are you playing at cunt? You are gonna kill us or some innocent fucker the way you are carrying on.”

“Mate. . . calm the fuck down. We did our job and did it in extenuating circumstances. Now get the fuck inside and give our report”

There’s a nurse at the door calling for us. He pauses and stares into my dilated eyes. The pressure on my chest eases. He smirks and then heads inside. This will probably go on to become one of his favourite pub stories, the cheeky cunt. I step around the vehicle with the rest of the crowd to survey the damage when I’m pinned to the thing again. By the throat this time. It’s Maher.

“I’ve had enough of your fucking renegade ways pal” he says through gritted teeth in that thick farmer accent of his. (Well, that's what an Irish cohort of mine informed me he sounds like, they all just sound like angry cunts talking gibberish to me). His pasty white skin has turned bright red. So much so I think his mop of curly hair is going to go up in flames.

“Look mate, I was just doing my job.”

My throat is closing fast but I manage to gasp out. . .

“We probably saved that cunts life”

“You are out of control, and you are going to get someone killed”.

“And we wouldn’t want to go killing people. . . would we detective?”

He releases his grip and gets right up in my face.

“You need to stop smoking that shit.”

I bite my tongue, for once, but he knows I have some fucking dirt on him. That’s a tale for another day though.

“There will be charges coming your way over this you hear?” he says loudly so that he is heard around the place while stepping back from me.

“Loud and clear Det. Maher.”

“Fucking put him in the back of the car.” He directs his officers.

Some of the crowd start booing and shouting at the police as they pull me away.

“I’m just trying to save some lives ya fucking dogs.” I shout out as they push my head down into the back seat. The crowd continues to berate them as we pull off.

I sit in silence, gazing out the window, as we cruise along. My two escorts are laughing and joking and trying to talk to me about what just transpired but I am remaining tight lipped. I’m just letting the rush of what happened subside. Fact of the matter is I’m fucking pissed no-one has acknowledged I got that man to the hospital alive. The cop in the passenger seat swings around to face me.

“Paulie mate, you need to stop smoking that shit.”

I just look at him.

“Seriously mate, you can’t get off while you are doing that job. You are bit of a fucking hero; we all know that. And fuck knows what you and Maher have going on, it always seems to get you out of trouble. I’d rather not know though to be fucking honest mate, but you are out of control at times. That shit today was madness. Someone could have gotten killed.”

I lean forward to reply.

“You wanna know what gets me off? This job does mate. More than anything you can put in a pipe, needle or up my fucking nose. The wilder and crazier the shit we come across the better. Now if that was your old man in the back today who else in this city would you want in that Ambo with him? Pose yourself that fucking question.”

He says nothing and sits back around. He and the driver catch each other with a glance and sigh.

“You’re fucked cunt.” The cop driving says

“Let’s get you home.”