The Omega Ambulance Service, Part 1

I’ll spare you the details, but after a long and convoluted process, I found myself once again at Jay’s Bar… this time at ten o’clock in the morning, and with all the doors locked. Michele set me at a table with four seasoned and very serious men, filled our water glasses, then vanished into his back room.

We all know who you are,” one of the men said, “so you don’t have to bother introducing yourself.” He followed by introducing the others to me, but I’ll leave all the names out of this.

The maniacs in government don’t listen to anyone, anymore, and now they’re trying to cut a lot of us, and our people, out of medical care. We want nothing to do with their vaccine, whatever it really is, and so we’re making a business that fixes their medical rationing.”

He went on to explain their plan: They bought an ambulance company and are staffing it with EMTs and nurses who will be friendly toward them. Essentially they’re hiring the people who’ve been fired for not taking the vax. They’re hiring doctors too, who will be consulting with the ambulance crews and joining them on calls as required.

And so, when someone in their network of friends needs a doctor, they’ll call for the ambulance and get an old-fashioned house call, accompanied by clinic on wheels.

The name of the service was the Omega Ambulance Service, and its motto was, We bring the hospital to the patient. They had three units already rolling, and four more being outfitted.

That’s a brilliant hack,” I said.

Hack?” one of them asked.

Sorry, that’s computer jargon. I mean that it’s an innovative and effective solution to the problem.”

The man smiled. “Our kids came up with it,” he said.

Smart kids,” I offered back.

Now,” the first man went on, “we need you for two things: First, to tell us how to do this without the Feds knowing, and secondly, as an arbitrator if there are problems.”

I thought about it for a minute. I’ve known guys in their line of work for a long time, but I’ve made a point of not doing business with them. This, however was a different situation; the powers that be are literally condemning people to death, and are so insanely arrogant that they think they’re righteous for doing it. Desperate times make for strange partnerships, I thought.

And so I ran everything through my mind a few times and satisfied myself that it was necessary. Then I went on to address my concerns: “Okay,” I said, “I see this as necessary and so I’ll work with you. But I have a few things I need.”

They all nodded and waited for me to continue.

Allow me, please, to start with the sensitive bit… and I mean no accusation or offense by this; I merely want to make my position clear. And what I need is this: Violence is off the table for anything pertaining to these arrangements. I don’t do business under those conditions. Period.

Next, I’m half-retired and I have other things to do; so I’m not going to get involved in petty fights: ‘His people used too much gas, or took too long at a pick-up.’ Those things are for your people to work out themselves.”

Then I paused and look at each of them intensely. “We can’t be dragged into trivial things,” I said… I almost pleaded… “Our health, the health of our families, and our ability to live independent lives are all at stake. The system has gone apeshit and we won’t survive it if we get caught up in petty crap.”

I stopped and waited. One by one, each said that he agreed.

One last thing: I’m not young anymore and as I say, I have other things to do. Once this is running, I’ll hand it off to someone else.”

Again they all agreed. I knew they’d call on me for emergencies after my cut-off date, but I wasn’t going to agree to that in advance.

What do you want out of this?” One of the quieter men asked me.

I smiled. “I want a doctor when I need one or if someone in my family needs one, without having to satisfy some political officer… that and one of you can pick up my check when we meet.”

With that they all laughed and we more or less concluded.

I’ll have a meeting with their kids in a few days – one from each of the older men – and go through all the details of the operation. It should be interesting.

More then.

     * As regular readers know, stories set in Jay’s Bar are fictional.


Paul Rosenberg