Twelve bikers blocked both lanes of Route 9, stopping the ambulance that was carrying a seven-year-old boy named Danny. He was in the back with his mother, appearing very ill with gray skin and blue lips as a paramedic was trying to provide him with air using a bag. Danny’s appendix had burst earlier that afternoon, and a doctor at the local clinic estimated he had about an hour to reach the children’s hospital in Harlan, which was fifty minutes away, especially in a thunderstorm. The ambulance was moving quickly, sirens blaring, while heavy rain pounded the roof. The driver took sharp turns, causing the mother to brace herself against the stretcher. Suddenly, the brakes locked, throwing her against the cabinets. Looking out the windshield, she noticed a line of Harleys parked sideways across the road with their engines running. Men in leather jackets stood in the rain with their arms out, blocking the way. The driver honked the horn, but no one moved. Frantic, she opened the back doors and ran toward the bikers, shouting that her son was dying and that they were putting him at risk. She reached out to one of them, an elderly man with a white beard who did not push her away. Instead, he told her to trust him.
Despite her anger and desperation, she hesitated as the paramedic shouted that Danny’s blood pressure was dropping, and the beeping from the monitor picked up pace. She almost struck the old man, but he caught her wrist and pointed down the road. He informed her that they had just come from that direction, revealing that the bridge over Miller Creek had washed out roughly twenty minutes earlier. He spoke about how one of his own friends was lost in the incident. She looked past him and saw flashlight beams moving through the rain, where men were gathered at the edge of the road where the asphalt ended. The sound of rushing water confirmed the bridge was indeed gone. If the bikers hadn’t blocked the road, they would have hit the gap at high speed.
The ambulance driver, named Ed, joined her and confirmed the situation, expressing frustration that dispatch hadn’t provided any information about the bridge. The biker explained that they had reported it, but no one had set up a barricade yet, so they had become the barricade. The paramedic, Carla, shouted from the back, urging Ed to find another route to Harlan as time was running out. Ed realized that the detour would take an hour and a half through Corbin and the interstate, which was too long for Danny. The old biker then suggested an alternate route called Old Quarry Road, which would save them time. However, Ed warned that the road was steep and made of gravel and that the ambulance might get stuck in the rain. The biker assured him they would help push the ambulance and guide the way, stating he was experienced with the road. The mother now knew the biker’s name was Walt.
What would you do in this situation?
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Source: bikersbyte.com, by David Hog