Her daughter, confused and worried, translates as Charvez takes notes on the hand of her plastic glove. The siren goes on with its urgent, repetitive cry. Charvez operates on adrenaline, wit, hot chocolate and insatiable curiosity. She has always been a child of the night, struggling through mornings, intrigued by the morbid, the alternative and the camaraderie that dusk invites. The job is physically and emotionally demanding.
Terrible things happen to really good people.
There has to be someone out there to take care of them. The next call of the night is a little closer to death. A calico cat looks on nonplussed from the top of the stairs. The siren roars again. BP 130 over 80.