Chapter Five
By The Chronicler
Location: San Francisco General Hospital
Time: 11:03 PST (2:03 EST) Tuesday, December 21 33:27 remaining
"You'd of been amazed on how they pulled that little pumper out of what was left of that kid!" the medic chattered on as he handed Big Norse yet another set of forms to sign. "Who ever put a kid on the back of a bike in this weather anyhow? You know what we call motor bike riders around here, don't ya?"
"Sure you'll tell me." Norse mumbled, barely scanning the form before signing it.
"Organ donors!" he barked out a laugh like it was funny that people were killing themselves for a ride on a Harley. He grinned at her and winked. "'Course, that works out pretty good for you, eh?"
"Depends." Norse mumbled handing the forms back.
"Depends on what?"
"Depends on whether or not you've got a bike." She didn't wait for answer, before grabbing the cooler and heading out the door.
Hotrod leaned against the Beast. Seeing her come, he tapped his watch. "Took us a total of 15 minutes to get here. And what... 58 minutes doing paper work?"
"And learning all about why there's so many malpractice suits in California." Norse mumbled. "Do me a favor: anything happens to me here, just shovel me into the back and wait until we get back home before calling EMS."
Hotrod smiled at the idea of shoveling the blond anywhere. "Be hell on the back seats." he pointed out.
Big Norse glared at him before shoving the medical cooler at him, then heading around the front of hummer to the driver's side.
As she climbed in, Hotrod secured the cooler in the back seat. "Such a little box caring such a little thing that'll make such a big difference." he mumbled when he squeezed into the passenger's seat.
"Tis the way of things." Big Norse answered as she steered the Beast out of the parking lot and out on to the road. "15 minutes here, 15 back right?"
"You'd think." Hotrod had been with the BB team long enough to know what should be and what was was far too often far too different to make a bet on anything.
Snow was an odd thing on the California coast, nearly unheard of in San Francisco. And heavy snow... Never. But here it was, coming down like it was competing with Denmark in the dead of winter. The steep hills and basic design of the city just wasn't put together with snow in mind. Snow in San Francisco meant only one thing: car accidents.
They were almost to their destination when the red tail lights of the sleek, worthless-in-the snow corvette in front of them began to swerve.
Big Norse barely had time to slam on the brakes as the little car twisted across the road in front of them. The all terrain vehicle with its go-everywhere tires squealed to a stop mere breaths from slamming into the corvette. Norse slammed forward against the steering wheel, momentarily knocking the air out of her lungs.
Hotrod braced himself with a hand against the dash, saving himself from slamming forward. "Norse?" he asked after a moment, reaching out and pushing her back in her seat. When she looked at him, assuring him that she was alright, he asked "You sure you don't want me to drive?"
Big Norse threw him a glare, then kicked open her door and climbed out. "We better check on the driver."
Grumbling at having to go out into the icy snow once again, Hotrod followed. He moved around the front of the hummer and checked for any damage while Norse moved to the car to check on its occupants.
There wasn't enough room between the hummer and the driver's side of the car, so Big Norse went to the passenger's side and tried to see through the tinted windows. "Hey! You alright in there?" There was no answer. She knocked on the window. "Hello? Can you hear me?" She tried the door, but it was locked. "Hey! You awake? Are you hurt? Open the door." Once again, no answer. She was beginning to get worried. "Hotrod! Get over here!"
Noting the urgency in her tone, the bulky man hurried to her side. "What's wrong?"
Before she could answer, the tires of the corvette spun, kicking snow up at them. Jerking away, it knocked Norse to the ground. She threw her arms up to protect herself as the car squealed away.
"What the hell..." Hotrod started, but he was drowned out by their hummer's engine roaring as it sped passed them and after the corvette.
Stunned, the two BBs were silent for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened.
Then, Big Norse leaped to her feet. "No! No way did this just happen! Not to me! Not to you! This did not happen!" she yelled. "We did not just get ripped off!"
Hotrod tugged his parka tighter around himself.
She spun around, scanning the area. She smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Oh god! The heart!" she groaned. She threw her head back and yelled at the world in general "I HATE CALIFORNIA!"
Hotrod held a go-phone out to her. "I'll call the cops. You call Rawhide."
Big Norse glanced at the go-phone. "Flip you for it?"
"Sure. Got a quarter?" Hotrod asked patting himself down. "My wallet just got stolen with the Beast."
