End of Shift

It happened just as I was trying to clock out. The numbers teased me by appearing only in my mind and not making their way to my fingers. I couldn't find the correct buttons. Two four, seven...something. That's when it happened. That's when I needed to divert my attention to more pressing matters.
It must not have been real life. There would have been more blood.
Truth is, I was concerned that there wasn't more. The pale yellow bone protruding from her midsection seemed awkward, out of place, as if it had been used as a weapon to kill her. As if it didn't belong to her at all.
She'd been hit by a car, though, and cars don't attack with bones. They tend to maim by brute force of bumper. My theory just didn't pan out.
It was my job to first gather the towels used to apply pressure, and then to hold her slender, limber arms down so that she wouldn't dislodge the bone. I recognized her. She was Holly from Brit Lit. I'd never seen her outside the classroom. I smiled down at her, hoping she'd recognize me as a friendly face.
Alexis--calm, sweet, controlled Alexis--was wigging out. The other girl--the bystander--held towels over the ears. One of them had been ripped halfway off. The bystander moved it into place and then vocalized her fear that our poor victim might remember all this once she was stitched back together. She covered both the ears to minimize her misery. There seemed to be a lot of yelling. After that, there seemed to be a lot of screaming. I wondered if it would help at all.
Off to the side, in the corner of my eye, I could see the bright glow of an odd yellow light.
Not a white light.
Not a tunnel.
Not a life flashing by.
Just golden rays of light peeking through into our world from some other dimension, observing us, judging us, selecting us...