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No one noticed the young woman as she frantically ran down the streaked gray sidewalk, searching for a pay phone. Across the street, she spotted a secondhand bookstore. Hannah quickly crossed the street, forgetting to look before she did so. A yellow taxi screeched to a halt, narrowly missing Hannah. The driver stuck his head out and yelled at her in a language she did not understand.

"Sorry!" Hannah called back. She opened the bookstore door and ran to the counter. "May I use your phone? It's an emergency!" she hurriedly asked an old man sitting by the cash register. The old man looked up sleepily.

"Just so as it's not long distance," he replied grumpily. Hannah nodded as she grabbed the telephone receiver. Her fingers trembled as she dialed 911. To her disbelief, the number was busy.

"Please, God, make them answer!" she urgently pleaded. The old man opened his eyes again, curiously observing her anguish as one would passively watch television. Hannah's heart pounded loudly in her ears. The sound reminded her that with every passing moment, the stoplight panhandler lost more blood. "Don't let him die, God!" she prayed outloud. After what seemed to Hannah to be an eternity, a voice answered.

"This is 911 emergency. How may I help you?" asked a woman's voice. For a moment, Hannah's tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.

"Please get an ambulance to the corner of Jefferson and Madison right away! There's a man in the alley... he's lost a lot of blood!" Hannah pleaded frantically.

"Stay calm. An ambulance is on it's way," the woman's voice assured.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Hannah. The emergency dispatcher asked who she was, and then hung up when the sirens were within hearing distance. Hannah dashed out of the bookstore, heedless of the oncoming traffic, and stood at the entrance of the alley. An ambulance pulled up beside the curb, it's red lights flashing.

"Over here!" she called. Two men jumped out of the ambulance and followed Hannah down the alley. She watched as they unwound the limp arms of the stoplight panhandler.

"It's a knife wound," she heard one of the men say. When a policeman tapped Hannah on the shoulder, she jumped.

"Were you the one who called 911?" he asked.

"Yes, I was," replied Hannah, nervously.

"Did you know him?" the policeman asked, pointing at the limp form being lifted onto a stretcher.

"No."

"How did you find the body?" he asked. Hannah felt faint. The walls of the alley began to spin around her.

"I was walking..." she began. Suddenly, everything became black.

"[She] that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the LORD; and that which [she] hath given will He pay [her] again."
~ Proverbs 19:17 ~

end of chapter

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