Angela headed to her shift with a light step and a sparkle in her eyes. What else could she do, since she madly loved her job? Her colleagues teased her, saying that Angela lived in the clouds. How could someone be so devoted to a profession with so much responsibility and such a poor salary? But for her, it was not just a job — it was a passion. And she had no intention of changing anything.
She loved rushing to the toughest calls, seeing glimmers of hope in the eyes of those waiting for her help, saving even those who seemed beyond rescue. She had brilliantly completed her training course, and many predicted a dazzling career for her in large clinics. However, after practicing in ambulance service, Angela realized: this was exactly where she belonged. For seven years now, she had been giving herself fully to her work.
She was so absorbed in her work that she hardly had time for a personal life. Nor did she particularly want one. Her past, connected with family, had left too much pain.
— “Angelочка, it’s time for your shift!” — The grandmothers at the entrance always greeted her warmly. She never passed by without at least nodding.
— “Hello, girls. Yes, back to work again!”
One of the old ladies shook her head. Again on the night shift.
— “Why don’t you have any men among you who could work at night? You always have to deal with sick, drunk, and even aggressive people.”
— “What difference does it make? They’re all patients. Well, I have to go. Thank you. Just take care of yourselves.”
— “Alright, run along, dear. Just take care of yourself.”
Angela headed to the bus stop, and the grandmothers began to discuss her among themselves.
— “Poor girl, isn’t it? Others would have long since hated doctors, but she chose this profession herself.”
— “That’s exactly why she chose it — to reduce the number of bad medics like the ones she had. Remember how her mother didn’t get help in time?”
— “Of course, we remember! That girl went through a lot of sorrow. And her father was a real monster. How did she even grow up to be such a person?”
— “Yeah, fate… Her parents died in a drunken fight. And what about him now? Do you know anything?”
— “No, where would we? Maybe he’s gone too. With a character like that…”
Angela roughly guessed what the old ladies whispered about when they saw her. That was their nature — to recall the past a little, to gossip. But they meant no harm, it was just their custom.
Angela jumped out of the minibus, waved to the driver — a young guy who always looked at her with some sadness but never dared to get acquainted. She was inside the cabin; he was behind the wheel. He smiled and waved back.
— “Angela, how great that you came early! The chief doctor was looking for you.”
— “Great, thanks. I’ll check in now.”
Stepan Vladimirovich met her with joy, like family.
— “Angela, Angelочка Vasilyevna, have a seat. I feel, Stepan Vladimirovich, you want something from me. Otherwise, why would you be so happy to see me?”
Stepan Vladimirovich always treated her almost like a grandfather to his granddaughter. Although at first they often argued — he could not accept the modern treatment methods Angela proposed.
Once a serious conflict flared between them, and Stepan Vladimirovich lost his temper:
— “Who do you think you are, little one?! Trying to teach me? Get out! You’re fired!”
His words brought Angela to tears. She went outside, and her colleagues ran after her, urging her to stay. They assured her that Stepan was not a bad man, just overly hot-tempered.
And then, as if fate decided to intervene, a terrible car accident happened right opposite the ambulance station. Two cars collided at high speed. Four people were inside, all in critical condition. Their rescue required lightning-fast action. Before loading the injured into the ambulance, it was necessary to stabilize their condition at least a little. One of them had stopped breathing.
Stepan Vladimirovich tried with all his might to revive him, but unsuccessfully. Then Angela decisively pushed him aside. He tried to interfere, saying she had no right to use such a method, that it was illegal and no one did it that way. But Angela restarted the injured man’s heart. True, she seemed to burn out inside herself.
When all the injured were delivered to the hospital, they sat outside for a long time together. Stepan Vladimirovich, who had been fighting for human lives for more than thirty years, now talked with Angela, sometimes silent, then speaking again. Since then, they became true friends. And Stepan started doing what he never had before: he began listening to Angela’s advice.
— “Angela, you are right as always. I understand, this goes against all the rules. It’s not allowed, you might not withstand it, but on the other hand, if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
— “Stepan Vladimirovich, stop beating around the bush!”
— “Angela, three of my paramedics caught a nasty flu. Tomorrow there simply won’t be anyone to work the shift. I know you’re coming off a night shift, but can you stay at least half a day longer? After lunch, Valentina Sergeevna will cover.”
— “Stepan Vladimirovich, why make it so complicated? You know I won’t refuse. There’s nothing to do at home. I didn’t even get a cat so it wouldn’t get lonely.”
— “Angela, if the shift is too hard, if you get tired, be sure to say so, okay?”
— “Alright, agreed.”
The night turned out surprisingly lively. A tramp stabbed another tramp, a wife greeted her husband with a rolling pin. Only the calculations failed — the shot hit the wrong place. By morning, there was an incident worthy of an anecdote. The husband came home not at eight, as usual, but at five in the morning. And at home, his “darling” was not alone — with her lover. The man was apparently a hunter because there was buckshot in the cartridge belt. The lovers were alive, but doctors would now have to extract the buckshot.
Just before the shift change, everything quieted down — a typical situation. People gathered to go to work, schools, kindergartens, no time to think about ailments. Those who had been out all night were already asleep, and those who woke up awaited alcohol shops to open. So in the mornings, there was usually an hour or two of relative calm. Everyone gathered at the station, drinking coffee and joking.
— “Brigade on a call!”
The doctors exchanged surprised looks. Who had gotten sick right now, during their rightful free time? A fresh brigade went out, including those who stayed late from the night shift. However, they returned quickly.
— “Where were you? Finished so fast?”
— “You won’t believe it, in the morgue.”
Angela choked. Now they even call there?
— “Exactly. A lady came to pick up her husband. Apparently, he was an important person or just a rich man. Paparazzi gathered near the morgue, and she needed to play her role properly.”
— “Play a role?” Angela was surprised.
— “Exactly. She’s perfectly healthy. Even her pulse is normal. But for the newspaper material, she had to fit the image.”
Angela shook her head. Times were really strange — even death was made into a show.
— “Here you are absolutely right, Angela. I think this won’t be her last call today. If journalists were at the morgue, there will definitely be some at the cemetery. If anything, I’m ready. We just need to create the appearance of work.”
— “Are you really helping her?”
— “You bet! For such a reward, I’d even dance the polka-butterfly.”
The doctor showed several large bills.
— “Oh, how cleverly she slipped them into her pocket — I didn’t even notice!”
Everyone in the break room burst out laughing.
— “Well, luck is clearly smiling on you today. By evening you’ll collect enough for a new car!”
Still laughing, they heard the dispatchers’ phones come alive. Not a quarter of an hour passed before the station emptied. Angela’s call came exactly at eleven.
— “Angela, central cemetery. The caretaker will meet and guide you there. Looks like they’re burying someone well off.”
Angela immediately recalled the morning incident with her colleagues. She was sure: it was that same woman.
— “Alright, let’s go, take a look at the grieving widow.”
The driver smirked.
— “You think it’s her?”
— “I’m sure. Such coincidences just don’t happen.”
The funeral was lavish. Angela immediately noticed the expensive coffin, many fresh flowers, a crowd of people and photographers, and the “grieving” widow who whispered too actively with a man right next to the coffin. Glancing briefly at the deceased, she turned to the woman.
— “Are you feeling unwell?”
And then the widow seemed to snap out of her role. Quickly looking at the man, she hissed:
— “Finish here quickly, time is pressing!”
After that, folding her hands, she began to sag. The man in a strict suit, probably a notary or family representative, managed to catch her and seat her on a chair. Angela grimaced — everything was exactly as she suspected. The widow felt perfectly fine. Whispering to the medics:
— “Give me a pill, and you’re free to go,”
she almost laughed.
Angela was angry. Now, while she wastes time on this farce, someone truly in need might be left without help. Throwing away the offered money, she loudly slammed her medical bag shut and prepared to leave.
But something caught her attention. Not just something — someone. The one lying in the coffin. When the man next to the widow ordered to close the coffin, two workers moved to carry out the command. But Angela couldn’t take her eyes off the deceased’s face. Something seemed strange. She carefully touched his cheek. Cold, but not the cold of death. Just cold, as when a person has not moved for a long time or has frozen.
— “Stop!” Her hand rose. The workers froze, and photographers started actively capturing what was happening.
— “What’s going on? Why are you disturbing the funeral?” The widow ran up.
Angela pretended not to hear. She took out her phone and called Stepan Vladimirovich.
— “I need urgent answers. Remember how you told me about your friend in Africa who was almost buried alive? All the signs were there then. Looks like we have a living corpse here.”
The widow recoiled and looked amazed at her companion.
— “What the hell are you standing there for? Command, bury him! I’m paying you for the job!”
The workers looked at each other.
— “No, boss, if the doctor says he’s alive, we won’t take the sin on our souls.”
The man tried to grab the lid himself, but then the driver ran out of the car with a crowbar in his hands. Apparently, Stepan Vladimirovich had already explained the situation to him. Journalists followed him. They formed a tight ring, not allowing the widow or her companion to come closer.
Silence. Angela carefully checked the pulse millimeter by millimeter. Impossible. It was impossible that she was wrong. There it was! It was!
— “Quick, get him into the car, quickly!”
The pulse was so weak and barely noticeable that there was almost no hope for successful rescue.
Angela addressed the journalists:
— “Please, I don’t have time. Call the police, detain them. And tell them the autopsy was not done either, though now it’s unavoidable.”
All the way to the hospital, she was in touch with Stepan Vladimirovich, who consulted with a toxin expert. Angela followed every instruction without questions. Every second counted.
When they howled up to the clinic, where medics were already waiting, the man’s pulse became noticeably stronger. Angela leaned over him, whispering:
— “Do you hear me? You just have to survive, you have to.”
Did the man’s eyelashes twitch in response? Now all that was left was to wait.
Tired, Angela later sat in Stepan Vladimirovich’s office. He placed a mug of strong tea and a huge sandwich in front of her. Noticing her surprised look, he explained:
— “Lidia stopped by and strictly ordered to feed you.”
Angela smiled. Lidia was Stepan Vladimirovich’s wife, who immediately took Angela as her own daughter.
— “Well, not really. Just the shift was special.”
— “Yeah, that’s not something you meet every day. Your ‘corpse’ has little chance. After all, a night in the fridge is no joke. Although maybe that saved him. The poison didn’t have time to fully dissolve and absorb.”
The phone on the table rang. Angela froze with the sandwich halfway to her mouth, and Stepan Vladimirovich picked up.
— “Yes? What?!” His face brightened, then broke into a wide smile. “Well, for such news, I’m ready to splurge on cognac!”
He hung up and turned to Angela. She barely held back from shouting:
— “Well?!”
— “See… Maybe you really were born under a special star? Your ‘godson’ was revived! Of course, he has a long recovery ahead, but he will not only live but be aware!”
Angela almost jumped over puddles after a short summer rain while heading to the bus stop. A minibus arrived. The young driver looked surprised — he usually didn’t drive passengers at this time. But Angela, smiling, opened the door next to him.
— “May I?”
The guy responded with a toothy smile.
— “You know you may.”
Angela sat down and turned to him.
— “My name is Angela.”
— “And mine is Viktor. Looks like I’m the happiest person today. I already thought I’d never talk to you except through the rearview mirror.”
Angela laughed. If only he knew how happy she felt at that moment.
And a year later, the entire shift gathered to see Angela off on maternity leave. Everyone’s eyes were slightly moist with joy.
