Unless someone gave him a ride.
“Old Man?!” I shouted, making my way into the hallway. “You fall asleep?”
I hoped that he didn’t get one of the men from the VFW to take him to the doctor. Short of my father, none of them could see well enough to tell a traffic signal’s color until they were in the middle of the intersection.
I pushed open his bedroom door. “You fall asleep, Old—"
My heart stopped. He was in a pile on the floor beside his unmade bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.
“God damn it, Hap,” I rushed across the room. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
I knelt at his side and felt for a pulse. Although it was faint, he had one. His skin was hot to the touch and pale in color.
I hoisted him over my shoulder. As I rushed toward the door, I dialed 911 on my cell phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My father’s unconscious and he’s got a high fever. Where’s the closest hospital?” I huffed.
“Has he been exposed to anyone who’s tested positive—”
“Where’s the closest fucking hospital?!” I bellowed. “I haven’t got time for your bullshit.”
“Sir, I’ll need you to answer a few—”
“I’m at 648 Wichita Avenue and I’m loading him in my car now. Where’s the closest hospital?”
I opened the back door of my SUV. My phone clattered across the drive. I slid Hap onto the seat, situated him, and shut the back door.
After retrieving my phone, I got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I pressed the navigation button on the steering wheel and spoke into the car’s interior. “Drive to the nearest hospital.”
The vehicle’s navigation system responded. “Drive to the nearest hospital, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Driving to Scripps Mercy Hospital, 4077 5th Avenue, San Diego, California. Please turn right on Wichita Avenue.”
I backed out of the driveway, shifted into gear, and stomped the gas pedal. The supercharged V-8 engine shot the SUV down the street like a rocket.
“Stay with me, Old Man,” I said, searching for his reflection in the rearview mirror. “We’ll be there before you know it. This fucker’s a lot faster than the old Cadillac of yours, that’s for sure.”
The vehicles phone rang.
I pressed the steering control and answered it. “Rourke.”
“This is the 911 operator. We were cut off.”
“I’m taking him to Scripps Mercy on 5th. Tell them I’m en route. Ten minutes. Less than ten. If someone tries to pull me over, I’m not stopping.”
“Is the person in question male or female?”
“Male.”
“Age?”
“Seventy-five.”
“Does he have a pulse?”
“Yes, it’s faint.”
“Any known health issues or concerns?”
“None.”
“Allergies?”
“None.”
“Has he been exposed to anyone who has tested positive for COVID-19?”
“He hasn’t been exposed to anyone. He’s been home, alone, for two weeks.”
“Your name?”
“Rourke. Romeo, Oscar, Uniform, Romeo, Kilo, Echo.”
“Hold please…”
A faint voice could still be heard. “This is SD County Sherriff dispatch, I have one en route, ETA 11:13, high fever, faint pulse, no known exposure to COVID-19.”
The voice became more prominent. “Rourke, Scripps is asking that you reroute to—”
“Reroute? I’m not rerouting to anywhere.” Luckily the freeway was nearly empty. Traveling at 120 miles an hour, I changed lanes to keep from hitting an Amazon delivery truck. “I’m goddamned near there, right now.”
“Sir, the hospital’s ICU is nearly at capacity with COVID-19 patients. If he hasn’t had exposure to anyone with COVID-19, they’re asking—”
I pressed the button on the steering wheel to hang up the call. “Go fuck yourself.”
I drifted from the fast lane to the exit lane, still traveling in excess of 120 miles an hour.
“Rourke, are you still with me?”
“I told you to go fuck yourself,” I snarled. I pressed the button again. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Mister Rourke, Mercy is asking that you redirect to—”
“I’m not going anywhere else, asshole.” The hospital was just off the Cabrillo Freeway, within eyesight. “I can see the hospital,” I declared. “Have them outside at the emergency room entrance.”
“Hold please…”
I heard mumbling, and then he returned. “They’ll be beneath the awning with a stretcher. You won’t be able to enter the facility, Mister Rourke. It’s on lockdown.”
I took the Washington Street exit at over 100 miles an hour, and then immediately took a right on 5th. The hospital was 300 yards away.
“He’s not a fucking dog,” I said, pointing the front of the vehicle toward the hospital’s entrance. I stomped the gas pedal. “I’m not dropping him off.”
“Sir, visitors are prohibited from—”
“I’m not a fucking visitor,” I snapped. “I’m the only family this man has.”
I careened over the curb and screeched to a stop beneath the emergency room awning, right beside where two men wearing hazmat suits and full Personal Protective Equipment stood.
Between them was a stretcher.
I rolled down the window. “He’s in the back.”
They loaded him onto the gurney and began taking his vitals. As one of the two men wheeled him into the hospital, the other pointed an electronic thermometer at my forehead.
“Stand still,” he said.
“I’m going with him,” I argued.
“You’re not going anywhere until I take your temperature,” he said. He paused, looked at the device’s screen, and then gave me a nod. “Ninety-eight-point-eight.”
I burst through the door and rushed toward the man who was wheeling my father down the corridor.
Two armed guards stepped in front of me. Both were wearing respirators. “Sorry,” one of them said. “No one is allowed beyond—”
“That’s my father,” I barked, pointing toward the rapidly disappearing gurney. “I’m going where he goes.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” the second one stated. “No one is allowed beyond the lobby.”
I had news for him. Neither of them was big enough to stop me. Armed or not, they weren’t going to intimidate me into leaving my father.
I cleared my throat. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. That’s my father.”
“Sir,” he said, raising the tone of his voice an octave. “If you venture beyond the lobby you will be arrested.” He placed his hand beside his weapon. “This hospital is on lockdown. For your, and for everyone else’s protection.”
I glanced at his hand. I met his cold gaze. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. My protection?”
“Believe me,” he responded. “It’s for your own safety. We’ve got the entire ICU filled with infected.”