"Sam!" the guy shouted. "This is it!"
Sam followed, but he wasn't sure this WAS it. How could it be? They'd been waiting for this for hours, for days even. How could it be?
"Get the nebulizer," he said. "And be quick."
Sam could never remember what the nebulizer was or what it was for. He didn't think it had anything to do with the surrender, but he didn't really know and so didn't like to say.
"Got it," he said, handing a doohicky over to the ambulance driver.
"Thanks, man," he said, not even looking. The guy was intent on the victim. There was blood. Sam didn't like to look and so wasn't sure where it was coming from or if it were serious. Not that he could tell even if he had seen.
"Hand me the gauze," the driver said.
Gauze. Sam knew about gauze. That's what his mother used on the burn he got from dropping a pan of bacon grease on his arm.
"Here you go," he said, handing over the stuff.
"Damn it!" said the driver, "we lost him!"
There was a clatter of machines and a slow hiss like the life going out of something.
Sam was always at the wrong place at the wrong time. All he wanted was a ride.