Good Samaritan


The lighting was harsh against the cool black leather of the chairs. They sat connected against a smooth stone wall, empty and waiting. It wouldn’t be long before someone came to warm them- it was getting close to midnight. As the old adage says…nothing good can come of such a late hour.

Almost as if they’d been summoned, a slumped figure was dragged through the double glass doors by a hulking man dressed head to toe in gray. A shock of red hair popped from below his hoodie as he snapped his head around, searching for someone- anyone who could help him. “I need a doctor!” he screamed, before grunting under the weight of the body he was carrying. They were both covered in blood. The read headed man didn’t think that any of the blood was his, but there was so much. The sting of pain in his chest, the lack of air in his lungs- it could be from over exertion or a wound. He wasn’t certain.

A nurse poked her head through the emergency entrance doors and her eyes widened. “Get a gurney!” she screamed back into the hallway, her words echoing off the walls. In an instant, everything was alive- nurses in scrubs and doctors in lab coats raced into the lobby, each of their voices straining to be heard over their neighbor as hurried hands took the limp body and placed it on a gurney before turning their attention back to the Good Samaritan.

“What happened?”

“How long has he been unconscious?”

“How do you know him?”

“Is he allergic to anything?”

Dazed, the red head stumbled backwards and ran his freckled hands through his hair, pushing his gray hood back and smearing his already red hair with tinges of rusted brown blood. His? That of the boy? He wasn’t sure. Unnerved, he reached behind him, his hand searching for a hard surface- it came to rest on the back of a black leather chair, which he sank into gratefully before laying his face in his hands- nothing good ever happened after midnight.


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