Out of Control by Richard Reece Read Free Book Online Page B

him with a damp towel and wiped away some of the blood. I got down next to him and said, “Dad! Can you hear me?” But he didn’t move.
    At some point I began hearing sirens in the distance, and before long paramedics were bent over him, attaching wires and pushing open his eyelids to check his pupils.
    â€œI’m his son,” I said to one of the medics. “How is he?”
    â€œHis heart and breathing are good,” he said. “He’s got a head injury, pretty obviously. No telling how serious. We need to get him to the hospital.”
    â€œI’ll follow you,” I said.
    â€œI’ll go with you,” someone said. I looked around. It was Pop Mancini.
    â€œMe too,” Nellie said.
    They put Dad on a gurney and wheeled him out to the ambulance in the parking lot. With their siren screaming, they pulled out into traffic with the three of us right behind.
    â€œI can’t believe this,” I said. “What if I killed him?”
    â€œDon’t start down that road, Trip,” Pop said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
    â€œYeah,” Nellie chimed in, “it was an accident. It could have hit anyone. Or no one.”
    I pulled into the emergency room entrance behind the ambulance. “You can get out here,” Pop said. “We’ll park the car and find you.”
    I jumped out and almost ran into a blonde woman with a microphone. Behind her was a guy with a video camera. “KLAS Channel 8,” she said. “Is Julio Costas in that ambulance? What happened? Is it true he’s in a coma?”
    They were wheeling Dad into the hospital when the KTNV truck pulled up. I just followed the gurney, ignoring voices behind calling, “Mr. Costas! Wait!”
    Wait is what I would do for the next six hours.

CHAPTER 18
    P op and Nellie caught up with me in the waiting room.
    â€œSo this is what it’s like to be a celebrity!” Nellie said. “There were cops at the door to keep the TV guys from crashing the hospital.”
    A half hour later Lisa came through the doors. “Hey, Trip,” she said and gave me a hug. “How are you doing?”
    â€œI guess the question is ‘How is
he
doing?’” I said.
    â€œNot to me,” Lisa shot back and put an arm on my shoulder.
    We had probably been there about two hours when a guy in blue scrubs with blood all over them came out of the ER. His nametag said
Chris Williams, M.D.,
and underneath that
Neurosurgery
.
    â€œCostas?” he said, looking around. I waved.
    â€œIs Julio Costas your father?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œI’m Dr. Williams. The EMT said your father was hit by a baseball, right?”
    I nodded.
    â€œHe’s still unconscious, but his vital signs are good. We x-rayed his skull, and he doesn’t seem to have any fractures. So right now he’s up in radiology getting a CT scan, so we’ll know what’s happening with his brain. I’ll check back as soon as I have something more to tell you. Okay?”
    â€œYeah. Thanks. Is he going to live?”
    â€œSo far I don’t see why not. What we’d be worried about is any bleeding or swelling in his brain. The CT will give us a lot more information.”
    After another hour I finally said, “Guys, Lisa, this could be a long time. You don’t have to. . .”
    They just looked at me and shook their heads. “Forget it,” Lisa said.
    Â 
    . . .
    Around hour four Dr. Williams reappeared. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “This place is crazy tonight. The CT scan on your father was negative. He probably has a concussion, but with rest he’ll be better in a while as long as he takes it easy.”
    â€œSo he’s conscious?”
    â€œGetting there. He’s coming to very slowly.”
    â€œCan I see him?”
    The doctor looked at his watch. “Give him about two more hours. He’s in a private room and