What is Mine
~ Seven ~

The three-man crew pulled up with a screech one hundred feet away from the smoldering wreckage. Normal procedure dictated that they position themselves a bit closer to the fire, but the firemen were hampered from doing so by the unmoving bloody human form lying just out of the fire's danger zone.

“Where is the-” The fireman did not get the chance to finish his impatient query. His head whipped around just in time to see the shiny new ambulance come around the bend on two wheels. “ He's gonna be our next victim ,” the fireman muttered beneath his breath. He did not bother to wait and chastise the young driver, but instead turned his attention to the smoldering automobile.

As the firemen tended to what remained of the fire, the two young paramedics turned their attention to the apparent lone survivor. Whoever phoned in the emergency call must have been the one to pull him to safety. There was absolutely no way that the injured man could have traveled to where he now lay. His injuries were too great.

He had not been thrown from the automobile, either. The man's broken body was too carefully arranged there on the roadside.

The two crews of emergency personnel worked efficiently on their respective concerns. The usual sense of urgency involved in these situations was not present. The burning car was already extinguished. And though the paramedics believed he would ultimately succumb to the severity of his injuries, their accident victim was for the moment stable.

“What are you doing?”

The cocky young driver looked over at his partner. “The guy has an identification card in his wallet,” he said.

“That's some kind of foreign language. You don't know how to read that!” his partner protested, peering over his shoulder at the foreign characters written on the small white square.

“I can read the numbers,” he sneered. “They are in American.”

His partner just shook his head. “Go ahead,” he said, in resignation. He had been a paramedic in the wealthy sprawling suburb long enough to know that the people there appreciated the extra consideration of an advance call. With the town located so close to the University system, the victims of their minor accidents were usually college professors looking for a bit of privacy with their underage students.

“Yes,” the driver put on his most soothing voice, “this is the Adams County paramedics. I'm sorry to inform you that there has been an accident and your number was found as a contact…We don't know, sir. We're unable to read the language it was written in…Well, he has dark blond hair and-…” The driver moved over to the ambulance and reached into a plastic container. “Yes, sir, there is some kind of medallion among his personal belongings…”

The other paramedic waited impatiently as his partner conversed on the phone. “Let's go,” he whispered harshly.

A sharp gesture from the young driver silenced his partner. He continued to listen intently to the words of the party on the other end of the call. “Yes, sir,” he snapped to attention, “I certainly will.”

The driver ended the call and stood shaking his head. “Guys,” he called out to the firemen, “you aren't gonna believe this.” He waited until the three men moved closer to he and his partner. “That number I called was some kind of European royalty.” He met their eyes with wonder. “He said that if we play our cards right, we will all be set for life.”