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the rain had soaked, and then began to work on her. Lois’ wet neck gave the female paramedic trouble as she searched for a sign of a beating heart. As the crowd waited without speech, and without thought, the female paramedic finally spoke.
    “I feel a faint pulse!” she exclaimed.
     The older paramedic positioned a suctioning device on Lois’s mouth and began to squeeze in and out, attempting to pull out the water sloshing around inside her lungs. He worked vigorously, as he knew the right amount of pressure and positioning that would expel the water. Suddenly, water oozed from Lois’ mouth. Her breathing resumed, albeit faint and muffled.
    “That’s a good sign, but I don’t know if she’s going to make it,” explained the brother paramedic.
    His sister looked at the two men covered in mud from their climb up the hill. “Are you guys okay?”
    “Yeah, I’ll be alright,” the fireman responded.
    Bill was physically and mentally exhausted. He wanted to explain how he had taken a swan dive face first off the bridge, and then swam a hundred yards carrying the woman. He didn’t, and simply replied, “I’ll live.”
    The aged paramedic looked at the wreckage on the bridge blocking traffic and realized that traveling through the air or water was their only option. He yelled to his colleagues, “The bridge is impassable! It’s a drive, but we’ve got to get her to Southern General Hospital!”
    “More help is on the way. Thank you, guys,” the female paramedic said to the two saviors.
    They watched as the paramedics positioned Lois’ unconscious body into the back of the ambulance. Her sexy dress was torn and a mixture of mud and blood covered her once radiating skin. The older paramedic jumped into the driver’s seat and punched the gas pedal. He pointed the vehicle’s nose back the way it had come.
    Police cars, motorists, and ambulances flurried around the war zone on both sides of the burning wreckage. Nothing or no one was protected from the all-encroaching rain, which seemed to intensify with the lights and sirens. There was no way for anyone to use the bridge as it was intended, to cross the raging body of water. Since the only other detour was a fifteen mile drive east to the other bridge, the ambulances were forced to return to one of the city’s two major hospitals—one in the north-end, the other in the south-end. While the turmoil-filled area bustled with activity, two of these ambulances raced at similar speeds, were commanded by similarly experienced drivers, and held a respective member of the Belkin family. The major difference between these two speeding vehicles, however, was not that they held different unconscious occupants; it was the fact they traveled in opposite directions, moving farther and farther apart with each passing second. Just as the scorched photograph inside the remains of Roger’s SUV was torn down the middle, separating the couple, both now faced a much greater separation.
     
     
     
    5
     
     
    The sound of a heartbeat monitor filled the softly lit hospital room at Saint Peters North Hospital. The beats were slow and rhythmic and filled sixty seconds with precisely fifty-eight. Roger lay motionless on the soft bed, dressed only in a blue gown. Sensors were plugged into his body and a heavy bandage was wrapped tightly around his head. He entered the modern hospital exactly thirty-two minutes after the moment of impact and was treated by some of the city’s top emergency room doctors. Saint Peters North was the most modern hospital in the city and was tall and wide enough to provide most patients with a private room—a fact that led many individuals to request the state-of-the-art facility for a hospital stay. Of course, Roger didn’t have a choice; he was brought to Saint Peters North because it was the only option from the impassable bridge.
    At nearly four p.m. the next day, like clockwork, two nurses entered to check on Roger’s condition. Melissa was new to