They Disappeared

62

Manhattan, New York City

After crossing the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge, the white EMS ambulance moved southbound on FDR Drive.

A marked NYPD patrol car and a marked NYPD van followed a few car lengths away but close by.

All three vehicles maintained the posted limit. None were using sirens, or emergency lights. There was nothing out of the ordinary as they traveled deeper into Manhattan along the parkway that paralleled the East River.

Traffic was moderate to medium.

Inside the ambulance, the radio’s volume had been turned low as it chattered with dispatches. The two paramedics were clean shaven. Their uniforms were new, crisp blue with the six-pointed Star of Life patches. The coiled cord of the medical radio’s microphone knocked gently against its base. The shelf of trauma supplies holding the IV bags, gloves and defibrillator rattled softly as the vehicle swayed. The stretcher was secured to the antiskid floor and emitted low squeak-creaks from time to time.

The “patient,” Sarah Griffin, had been strapped firmly to the stretcher.

An oxygen mask, covering her face and mouth, was affixed tightly to her head. Tears rolled from her eyes, leaving tracks.

Sensing a terrible end was upon her, she prayed for Cole and Jeff.

If any authority needed to check the ambulance, something highly unlikely, they’d find nothing unusual with this patient transfer, unless they looked closely.

Unable to move, Sarah stared at the ceiling.

Expertly taped at strategic points, she saw rivers of braided colored wiring that flowed throughout the interior of the entire ambulance.