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Jason Shane shivered, pulled his parka tighter, and took off toward the accident scene. It was only two blocks from the Shane residence, down Needham Street to Farmer Road and across Claiborne, but the pain in his hip had him hobbling. He was almost there though; an ambulance and a police car sat at the corner, both straddling the curb.
Despite the October evening chill, Jason’s blond hair had matted with sweat. He gulped in the damp air and crossed Claiborne, where Emily’s bicycle lay crumpled at the base of a power pole. Two paramedics huddled over a stretcher on the sidewalk, Buddy Tarbutton, the responding police officer, a few paces away.
Tarbutton glanced up and nodded hello.
Before Jason could respond, the clatter of a woman's shoes emerged from the night, followed by a large man's flat footfalls.
“Oh, Jason,” Wanda Claxton wailed, “I’m so sorry. We were just walking out the door for our bridge night when we heard the collision. We called the paramedics. They had just left a false alarm on the way to Athens, and they came right here.”
“Thanks,” said Jason.
“Honey, honey,” husband Jack said, “she’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
Jason gave the couple a weak smile, stumbled ahead to the paramedics, and identified himself.
“Pulse is dropping,” one said, looking up. “Heartbeat irregular.”
They had strapped ten-year-old Emily to a long, polished board that had been placed on the stretcher, covered her with a doubled-over wool blanket. Blood had matted her long, blonde hair to a now misshapen face.
“How bad is it?" Jason asked.
“Both legs are broken,” said the second paramedic. "Looks like internal bleeding. The car really slammed her, must've hit her head on.”
“I think she was coming down Farmer Road and the car T-boned the bike,” said Tarbutton. He looked to Jason. “Dance class night, right?”
Jason swallowed. “Yeah. Dance class.”
“She’s in shock, shows all the signs of a severe concussion,” the second paramedic said. “Maybe brain damage.”
Jason blinked, unable to digest all this. “Will she live?”
“She’s alive,” the second paramedic said, “but I can’t say for how long.”
The first paramedic pressed one of Emily’s eyelids open, then the other. “Pupils not responding.” He glanced to Jason. “Sir, she isn’t responding at all. We need to get her to a hospital ASAP.”
Jason took a deep breath. “I’m her uncle. I live with the family, but they’re not home yet.” He looked away. The ambulance’s revolving light spun ethereal red ribbons across the scene. “Take her to Humana Hospital, in Lawrenceville.”
“You got it,” the second paramedic said. “You know her blood type?”
“A positive,” said Jason.
“Good, easy to find.” The paramedic stood. “You going to meet us at there?”
“Her parents will be home soon, I need to tell them. Just tell the hospital people she’s a Shane, from Hope. They know us there. They’ll take care of her.”
The two paramedics lifted the stretcher and slid Emily into the ambulance. Wanda and Jack Claxton turned, heads bowed, and plodded away. The first paramedic climbed into the ambulance’s rear and shut the doors. The second one dashed to the cab.
“I have to file a report,” Buddy Tarbutton said. “Hit and run cases like this, we report ‘em to the State Patrol. Can you come by later and give us a statement?”
“Yeah,” said Jason, “sure.” He swayed, took a step, lurched.
Tarbutton caught him, steadied him. “Jason, we’ll catch 'em.”
"I know."
The policeman patted him on the shoulder, turned and strode toward his car.
Jason bent and retched.
The ambulance flounced from the curb and sped west, Tarbutton's police cruiser following. Within seconds, the ambulance’s loopy light and the police car's urgent wail dissolved in the gathering night fog.

Just realized I took these entries out of order. Whoops! Another great submission - I'm a fan!

Here's the link: http://everystoryhasachapterone.tumbl...

Thanks, Mary! Great to have you post these chapters, and doubly glad that you count yourself a fan.