Editor’s note: “Still on scene” is a powerful, character-driven novel that follows two EMS professionals whose partnership is forged in the chaos of emergency calls and strengthened in the quiet moments between them. Set against the relentless backdrop of trauma bays, flashing lights and sleepless nights, the story explores the emotional toll first responders carry long after a call ends. Through heartbreak, humor and brother/sisterhood, the novel reveals that sometimes the hardest part of the job isn’t what happens on scene — it’s what follows you home. At its core, it is a tribute to those who stay when others step back.
The tones dropped at 02:17.
Thomas didn’t need to look at the clock. He felt it in his bones — that hollow, middle-of-the-night exhaustion that wrapped around your shoulders like wet canvas. The kind that made you question how many hours you’d slept this week and whether it even mattered anymore.
“Medic 4, respond priority one…”
Rose was already moving. She didn’t rush. She never rushed. She just flowed — boots on, radio clipped, hair pulled back in one clean motion. Thomas followed her out into the bay where the ambulance sat waiting under fluorescent lights that made everything look pale and tired.
“Chest pain. Fifty-eight-year-old male. Difficulty breathing,” dispatch finished.
Thomas climbed into the driver’s seat while Rose settled in back, reviewing the MDT notes. The engine turned over with a low growl, and they pulled into the dark street.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The city at that hour was quiet in a way that felt unnatural. Traffic lights blinked yellow over empty intersections. Storefronts sat dark and reflective. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked — sharp, lonely.
“You good?” Rose asked finally, her voice steady over the headset.
“Yeah,” Thomas replied. “Just tired.”
“Me too.”
That was the thing about this job. Tired wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just sleep. It was cumulative. It was every bad call that layered itself quietly under your skin until one day you realized you were carrying more than you remembered picking up.
They arrived to find the patient seated at the kitchen table, oxygen already hissing from a tank a neighbor had brought over. His wife hovered nearby, hands wringing the hem of her sweatshirt.
Rose moved first.
“Hi sir, I’m Rose. This is Thomas. We’re going to take care of you, okay?”
Her voice always changed on scene. It softened without losing authority. It steadied the air in the room.
Thomas began applying the cardiac monitor while Rose asked questions — onset, duration, history, medications. The man’s breathing was shallow, labored, each inhale sounding like it had to fight its way in.
ST elevation.
Thomas felt the shift immediately.
Rose saw it too.
“Okay,” she said gently, maintaining eye contact with the patient. “We’re going to move you to the stretcher and get you to the hospital quickly.”
Controlled urgency. That was the dance.
They worked in sync. IV established. Aspirin administered. Oxygen titrated. Thomas called in the STEMI alert while Rose reassured the wife that she could follow behind them.
In the back of the ambulance, sirens echoing through the narrow streets, Thomas watched the monitor while Rose monitored the patient’s airway and perfusion.
“You’re doing great,” she told the man, one hand steady on his shoulder as the vehicle swayed.
For a moment, it felt routine. Clean. Focused. Purposeful.
And then the patient grabbed Rose’s wrist.
“Don’t let me die,” he whispered.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud.
It was terrified.
Thomas felt it hit him somewhere deep in his chest.
Rose didn’t hesitate.
“We’re not,” she said firmly. “You’re not alone.”
They rolled into the ER bay under harsh lights and controlled chaos. Nurses descended. Report was given. The patient was transferred to the cath lab within minutes.
And then — just like that — it was over.
Thomas leaned against the side of the rig, staring at nothing.
“It’s like they hand it to you,” he said quietly. “Their fear. Their worst moment. And you just… take it.”
Rose nodded. “Some of it fades. Some of it stays. The trick is not letting it decide who you are.”
Later, lying on the narrow bunk in the dim light of the dorm room, Thomas stared at the ceiling. Sleep didn’t come easily anymore.
Because sometimes the hardest part of the call isn’t what happens under flashing lights. It’s what follows you home.
Excerpted with permission from “Still on scene,” by Jordan Busch, independently self-published in 2026, available for purchase at Amazon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jordan Busch is an emergency services professional and safety specialist with years of experience immersed in EMS, fire response and incident management. Drawing from firsthand exposure to the emotional and operational realities of life on the front lines, Busch writes character-driven stories that explore resilience, trauma and the unspoken bond shared among first responders. “Still on scene” is Busch’s debut novel, inspired by the quiet weight carried home after the sirens fade. Learn more at www.stillonscene.com.
