Malcolm zigged and zagged around the slower vehicles and through four intersections, gaining speed as he went. His gloves let out wisps of smoke as he made a ninety degree turn and zeroed on the ship yards.
Malcom’s wheelchair shifted to a compressed position as he cleared the first mile, making it easier for him to maneuver and giving him more speed. The security shack at the dock had their traffic arm down, and Malcolm leaned his head to his knees as he zipped under the arm, startling the guard.
It took Malcolm a few turns to line up with the dock where Vanguard was located. A slippery grip and Malcolm’s chair slowed to thirty miles per hour. Squinting in the distance, he made out a section of missing dock. Malcolm pressed the levers on both sides of his chair two clicks, then waited until he was closer.
Just has he saw the leading edge of the gap, he pressed the release on his arm rest. Two skids below his wheelchair catapulted Malcolm into the air and his momentum carried him forward, over the sizable gap.
With a heavy slam, Malcolm and chair landed and kept rolling. A quick stroke of the wheels kept his speed.
Malcolm gritted his teeth and put his chin down an instant before he smashed through the double doors blocking his path.
Malcolm slowed to a stop and checked his wrist panel. “Hmmm…Almost there. On the second floor. Where is that ramp?”
Turning his head Malcolm found something close. He pushed at a good clip and aimed for the stairs. They were a straight run and tight. Tapping a button his an arm rest, Malcolm’s chair adjusted to an upright position. Moving with precision, the EMT pressed the levers again this time, seven clicks, and activated them just inches away from the first stair.
The skids sent Malcolm up and nearly to the top stair. With his arms a red blur, making his spokes a silver platter, Malcolm leaned back and let his tires do the work. They gripped the wooden surface of the steps and kept him moving the last four bumps to the landing.
“Made it!” Malcolm checked his wrist panel and saw the indicator for Vanguard. “Over there.” The speedy EMT rolled to a shape on the ground.
“Vanguard. I am EMT Forsyth and I am here to take you to a medical facility. Are you conscious?” A moan escaped the prone form as it rolled over.
Vanguard had bruises over his lower face, a gash across his chest, and his leg was bent at an odd angle.
Malcolm tapped the button on the side of his helmet. “This is EMT Forsyth. I am at Vanguard’s location. He has abrasion and an open wound along with a possible compound fracture of the leg. Beginning transport.”
Malcolm wheeled closer to the form. He turned around in his chair and opened several straps. He pulled two rigid boards and connected them. Next he unbuckled from his chair and flopped to the ground where he slid the board under his patient.
Malcolm crawled to his wheelchair and pulled three straps from the back and ran them under the board and connected them back to the chair. Squirming back into his seat, Malcolm tapped a button and the straps pulled Vanguard in closer, then vertical. Next Vanguard was attached to the wheelchair and secured in a standing position.
“Well, isn’t that a nice invention Mag Wheels?”
Malcolm’s head jerked in the direction of the voice. He spotted the dark green clad person easily.
“I’m an EMT doing my job. I don’t want trouble.” Malcolm clenched his teeth and gripped his arm rests causing his leather gloves to make a noise.
“Ahhh…Poor Mag Wheels doesn’t want trouble.” The green costumed man stepped closer. His dark goggles stared at Malcolm. “Too bad Mag Wheels. Trouble has found you.” The approaching man cracked his knuckles.
“You ain’t trouble Sprints. Never were, never will be.” Malcolm smirked and made a dismissive noise.
The green wearing man stomped a foot forward, put a deep frown on his face, and thrust a finger at the sitting EMT. “Mom said you aren’t supposed to call me that anymore!”