Chapter 57
Jonah pulled into the mass of traffic on I-20. It was 7 P.M. and cars were still jammed bumper to bumper. He wanted to make it home before 7:30, but at this rate, it wasn’t going to happen. He pulled out his cell phone to call Faith.
“I’m sitting in traffic,” he said, trying to look around him to see what might be the hold up.
“A traffic update just came on the TV. There was a car accident a few minutes ago at Wesley Chapel. You may be stuck for a minute,” she said.
“I promised the kids I’d get home in time to watch that Disney Cruise special. Will you record it for me? We can do it tomorrow.”
He could hear her smiling through the phone. “I already put the recorder on.”
It was him who smiled now. “I swear you remember everything.”
“My job,” she said. “How was Amadi?”
Jonah’s mind instantly went back to the picture he had been trying to forget about for the last fifteen minutes. Amadi’s dropping heart rate. His mother’s desperate prayers to her God.
“How much longer do we have to wait, Doctor?” Her eyes were crimson from her tears.
Jonah cleared his throat before giving his wife his full attention again. “We’ve done everything we can, but the diuretics aren’t draining enough fluid. Pretty soon, his lungs are going to be so compromised that he won’t be a good candidate for a transplant. He’ll have to come off the list. He won’t last much longer.”
He heard Faith moan. “I’m so sorry. I know how much this kid means to you.”
Jonah felt tears burning the back of his eyes. “Occupational hazard. Look, I’m going to hang up. Traffic seems to have picked up a little.”
“See you soon.”
Jonah felt bad about the lie. Traffic hadn’t picked up. He just didn’t want to talk anymore. He was frustrated about Amadi, angry about Amadi, and scared for Amadi.
“God, I’ve got no one else to turn to. I know my mother and wife would be ashamed that I was praying this way, like you were the last resort instead of the best option, but I told Mrs. Lazarus that I would pray for her son.” Jonah barely recognized his own guttural tone. He cleared his throat. “So I’m praying. Please don’t let Amadi die. He’s a good kid, he’s smart, he has his whole life in front of him and . . . so Lord . . . God . . . please let him get a heart before it’s too late.” A lone tear fell down Jonah’s face. He struggled with the wave of emotions that overtook him. “I . . . guess this prayer isn’t really just about Amadi. I can’t stop thinking about what my mother said.”
If you want to see your brother again, you’d better get right with God.
“If there’s a chance that I could see Joshua again, then I need to try and do better about believing you care.” He stopped and looked out his window. The guy next to him was staring. Jonah put his hands on the steering wheel and pushed the gas to move his car ahead and out of his neighbor’s sight. That was embarrassing. Maybe he should save his prayers for the privacy of his office or bedroom.
After about five minutes, he came to the accident scene that had the road tied up. As he passed, he noticed a woman running back and forth in a desperate panic. There was only one ambulance on the scene, but there were three vehicles. One turned upside down. This is bad.
He could hear a helicopter overhead, probably an air dispatched paramedic, but it was in the distance. He wouldn’t normally get involved, but these people needed help. He pulled his car over to the side of the road and jumped out.
“My son is bleeding,” the woman yelled, grabbing Jonah’s hand as he got closer. He could tell she was African. He recognized some of the Swahili words she intermixed with English as she yelled in a fitful cry at the EMT.
“I’m a doctor,” Jonah said, rolling up his sleeves as he approached the EMT. “What can I do?”
Panicky eyes above a sweat drenched nose looked back at him. “Put pressure on this abdominal wound. The bleeding’s pretty heavy.” He jumped up and handed Jonah gloves and a fresh wad of gauze. “I’ll go check on her son.”
Jonah put on the gloves, got on his knees and applied pressure to a large gash just above the older gentleman’s groin. He was conscious, but badly shaken. Police sirens wailed, bringing traffic to a complete stop. Jonah felt a strong wind and looked up. The helicopter had touched down on the highway. Within seconds, four EMT’s, mega duffel bags and a stretcher in tow, were charging toward them.
“He needs to get to the hospital. I’ve applied pressure, and the bleeding won’t stop,” Jonah said, moving out of the way.
He searched for the woman who had been crying for her son. She was being pushed back by two of the EMT’s while the third leaned into the upside down vehicle. Jonah realized her son had to be trapped in the car. He removed the bloody gloves from his hand, rolled his shirt sleeves up higher and walked down into the grassy ditch.
“My son, please help my son,” the woman was crying. “He’s only sixteen years old, please help him!” Jonah noticed she had blood on her arm and shoulder.
He got on his knees next to the EMT whose name tag read Tim.
“How’s the abdominal wound?” Tim asked.
“Still bleeding. He’s being taken to the hospital,” Jonah responded, trying to look into the vehicle Tim was squatting near. “Is it bad?”
“Head injury. He’s unresponsive.” Tim wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “It’s bad.”
Jonah heard the loud wail of a fire truck arriving on the scene. He stood and stepped out of the way so the fireman carrying the “Jaws of Life” could reach the vehicle. He watched as they cut away at metal and rubber with deft swiftness. Within minutes, they had him on a stretcher.
Nearby, his mother was sobbing. One of the people who had gotten out of their cars was trying to calm her down.
What a horrible way to see your child, Jonah thought. He pulled one of his business cards from his wallet and stuck it in Tim’s shirt pocket.
“Just in case you need it.” He stepped back as they carried the teen boy to the waiting helicopter.
Jonah looked around at the rest of the scene. Everything seemed to be under control. He jogged back to his car. Once inside, he opened his glove compartment and reached for a handkerchief to wipe his hands and face. He was sweating, partly from the heat and partly from the adrenaline.
He turned the air conditioner on full blast and pulled out his cell phone to call Faith when his pager went off. Kimble. Fear clenched his heart as he dialed the number.
Jonah pulled out ahead of the other cars waiting and flagged down a police officer.
He took out his identification. “I need to get out of here. I have a medical emergency.”
The officer gave him instructions on how to get around the accident. Once he had cleared the ambulance, he moved through the space and used the shoulder of the road to get to the next exit. Amadi was crashing.