The captain greeted the two policemen and they filled him in on how messed up Michael had been when they arrived. A crew member took notes while another one assessed Michael, taking his blood pressure and checking the reactiveness of his pupils. Tyler handed the bottle of medication to the fire captain and showed him the half-empty bottle of white wine.
“Looks like he took these together; it may explain his unconsciousness. The fireman read the label.
“This is Saloomen?” He gestured to Michael.
“No, that’s Michael Francis. Saloomen is his boyfriend. He seems to be missing and may be a suspect. That’s why we came, to question him,” Tyler replied. The fireman nodded and glanced back at Michael.
“His BP is 100/60, heart rate 120, temp. 99.1, respirations 10.” The other fireman scribbled the numbers down.
“Really low,” the captain said. “Start a heplock on the left and an IV on the right and get him on saline, wide open. We need to get some fluids into him, stat,” the captain instructed the paramedic. He picked up his radio and called in to the closest hospital, UCLA Medical Center, letting them know that they’d be there shortly. Two more firemen walked in pulling a stretcher. Once they finished getting Michael’s IV started, they hung a bag of saline and moved him onto the stretcher, belting him down. The captain threw the Xanax bottle into a plastic baggie and dropped it on the blanket that covered their patient. Michael began to revive as soon as the fluids were started.
“Whaaathefuuukz go een on?” he slurred.
“Mr. Francis,” the captain said in a booming voice. Michael turned toward the voice, a thick frown on his face, his eyes squinted.
“Whaaa? Whoooerryou?”
“Mr. Francis, do you know where you are? What did you take, Mr. Francis? Do you know what day it is?” Michael didn’t answer. Instead he moaned as he seemed to realize that another fireman was poking him with a needle, setting up a second IV, this one in the opposite hand.
“Owwww! Whaaaathe fuck?” Michael attempted to pull his arm away but the brawny fireman held it firm.
“I need to get this line into you, Mr. Francis,” he said. “Don’t fight me or it’s going to hurt.”
“Alreadyhurz youuuvampeyehhr.” Tyler put his hand over his mouth, hiding the broad grin. He noticed the other firemen wore similar expressions.
“Ya gotta love drunks and kids,” the fire captain muttered to one of his team mates. Cassidy chuckled. The captain grinned. “I love cases like this one. These people don’t know how stupid they look,” he said under his breath.
