Megan Callahan’s hands shook as she pressed a clean handkerchief against the bl:ee:ding forehead of the elderly woman lying on the sidewalk. The cold concrete in downtown Chicago dug into her knees, yet that discomfort meant nothing compared to the interview she was supposed to attend across town.
She had one real shot at Saint Aurora Medical Center, and she could feel it slipping away with every passing minute. Still, she kept her voice steady as she leaned closer to the injured stranger.
“Ma’am, can you hear me, please stay with me and look at me.”
The woman blinked slowly, her pale blue eyes unfocused and confused. Her tailored wool coat, the kind Megan had only seen in store windows along Michigan Avenue, was streaked with dust from the brick wall she had collapsed beside.
“I do not remember what happened,” the woman whispered.
“You are going to be okay,” Megan replied gently. “An ambulance is on the way and they will take good care of you.”
Harper, Megan’s seven year old daughter, clung tightly to her mother’s arm, her wide eyes filled with fear and urgency. She tugged at the sleeve of Megan’s carefully ironed navy uniform.
“Mom, the lady at the hospital said you cannot be late.”