A half hour later, the bike squealed to a stop in front of the ER entrance. “Annie? You still with me?”
She didn’t respond.
“Annie?” Shea reached back and shook her. “Annie, wake up.”
The girl slumped to the side. Only the tied windbreaker sleeves kept her from falling to the pavement. Shea honked the bike’s horn. Two Cortes County EMTs in navy blue T-shirts rushed through the automatic sliding doors. Terrance ran behind them carrying a small cooler.
“You need some help?” asked one of the EMTs, a young Hispanic man whose name, L. Cruz, was stitched on the shirt. Cruz grabbed Annie from the left, while his partner, a woman with V. Liu stitched on her shirt, held her up from the other side.
“Her ear’s been cut off and she’s running a fever.” Shea untied the windbreaker’s sleeves.
“I go
