My partner J and I are standing near the ambulance, doing paperwork, in the ambulance bay at a hospital. At least 10 shots ring out from less than 60 feet away. Another medic S, normally kind of a high-strung weirdo anyway, excitedly says, “Guys, let’s go inside!” J and I foolishly ignore her and instead crane our necks to check out the commotion. We don’t really see anything except for the cops who were already at the hospital running in that general direction, looking for the gunman. (Or is it gunperson?)
Finally after a minute or two, J and I wise up and head inside the hospital for the slightly more bulletproof walls. S is crouched down behind a crash cart INSIDE the hospital, clearly worried about the bullets whizzing by her head. She’s on the phone; to whom I have no idea.
“What’s she doing?” I ask S’s partner, who’s already rolling hiis eyes.
“Maybe she gets better reception there.”