2. Chapter Two
Chapter two
Three months ago…
T his storm is relentless, and I’m nearly spent after only twelve hours on shift. Swanson expertly maneuvers the truck while the rest of us prepare for the next call, a kitchen fire that the owner already extinguished, but they’re concerned they didn’t do it correctly. I sigh, frustrated that people don’t learn basic fire prevention anymore. Still, it’s better than another car accident.
“Engine 27, reroute to Tucker Street. Deer versus car, car has flipped several times, one unconscious and badly injured occupant, paramedics en route.”
Never mind. Another car accident it is.
“Ready for another extraction, Gray?” Swanson glances in the rearview mirror and makes a right turn to take us in the opposite direction. We’re still the closest to the accident scene, so it’s likely we’ll reach it before the ambulance.
“Yes, sir,” I say and try not to think about what we might find. Rollover accidents in this kind of weather rarely have good endings.
“There’ve been a lot of deer versus car on that road lately. This one is the third this week,” Kempler says. The truck sways and rumbles down the road, passing cars who barely pull off on the side of the road. If it were their loved one in a death spiral, they’d probably move faster.
“Not a lot we can do about it,” Swanson says. “Looks like it’s only another half mile up the road. Lots of cars up there.”
“This isn’t the first rollover though. Wonder if we went to city council if we’d have any sway. Try to get some better fencing put up to detour the deer somewhere safer to cross,” Kempler adds. He’s got big dreams, but not even the eight foot fences keep the deer off this road.
“Nah, the fences down around the turn don’t do any good. I don’t know what can be done, especially if the county won’t release more funding. Refocus and get ready. There’s a show,” Swanson says and pulls the truck to a stop beside a nearly crushed sedan.
“Gray, see what it looks like from the front end. Kempler, check the doors. Paramedics should be here in three minutes. Might as well assess and see what we can do.” Swanson pushes his door open and starts barking orders at the dozen or so people surrounding the flipped car. Once they’re out of the way, Kempler and I get to work.
I crouch down and settle on the road in front of what used to be a windshield and nod at an older man. He clutches a woman’s hand. “She passed out about two minutes before you got here. I can’t wake her up,” he admits.
“Got ya. Was she vocal before she passed out?” I ask while encouraging him to scoot out of the area so I can get a better look at her and what we will need to do to extract her from the wreckage.
“She was. Said a sentence or two. I know she was scared, but I don’t know much else.”
“All right, I’m going to need you to scoot out so I can check her out,” I say.
“But you’re not a paramedic,” he argues. It’s not unusual for people to feel defensive over a victim when they’ve spent a lot of time trying to make sure they’re okay and comforting them while they wait for first responders to arrive. His protectiveness is normal, fatherly even.
“We’re trained EMTs as well, sir. I assure you, I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s okay, but I need to assess her so we can figure out how to get her out of the car, all right?” I try to be calm and use an even tone, but every part of me wants to push this guy out of the way so I can do my job. I understand where he’s coming from, but at the same time, he’s wasting valuable minutes this woman probably can’t spare.
Finally, he relents and lets me slide into the small space he occupied. It’s difficult with my turnout gear on, but I don’t have a choice. The woman is covered with blood, though it all appears to be coming from her hands and arms rather than her head or chest area.
I pull my flashlight free and try to see where the blood ends and she begins, but when the beam crosses her face and her eyes whip open, I startle. She gasps and her eyes dart around until they meet mine again.
And my whole life, all twenty-nine years of it, flashes before my eyes because if not for this woman, I wouldn’t have had the last fifteen.
Tallulah Whitmore’s terrified gaze latches on to me, and it’s exactly the same as it was the day she saved my life. When I woke up, her bright blue eyes were the first thing I saw.
“Ten bucks says you can’t do a double backflip off the high board,” Jackson said. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and his grin puffed his freckled cheeks.
There were two things I knew for sure. One, there was no way I could do a double backflip, let alone from the high board into the Olympic-sized pool our neighborhood shared with two others. And two, even if I did, it wouldn’t be pretty and the aftermath would be painful if we got caught.
“You know what my mother said,” I reminded him.
“She’s not here, and you’re a chicken. Admit it, the real reason April broke up with you was because—”
“You don’t know anything,” I said and swam to the edge of the pool. Now I had to do it. I had to prove that I was just as brave as Mark St. James, the guy April dumped me for. Okay, so it might have been a little bit because of my inability to walk on the wild side, to be daring, to be adventurous, but I had enough respect for my life and my parents to abide by their wishes.
Still, a guy could only take so much teasing, and from his best friend no less. Water streamed from my trunks as I walked to the other side of the pool and toward the ladder.
“Cai, I was kidding. You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Jackson said. His tone had a distinct waver, something like fear, but I was already halfway up the ladder. I wasn’t about to change my mind and look stupid.
Once I reached the high board, I shook out my arms and legs in a pathetic attempt to focus. Fear tickled the back of my neck, but I wouldn’t let it stop me. Lots of people, even guys my age, jumped from the high board all the time. I could do it too…or die trying.
“Cai, I mean it!” Jackson shouted. He was climbing out of the pool when I made the final commitment. “Get down from there!”
I stepped to the edge, prepared to work through the logistics of such a jump, when I slipped. Trying to right myself only made it worse, and before I knew it, I fell over the edge and whacked my head on the board. My vision blurred as my body took a freefall toward the water. The last thing I remembered was Jackson’s frantic scream and darkness sweeping in from all directions.
Then I woke up to his sister’s blue gaze filled with tears. From inside the clubhouse, she’d seen me fall and hit my head. When her brother forgot everything about how to handle an emergency, she stepped up and saved my life. If she hadn’t leaped into the pool and dragged me out, I would have drowned. She performed CPR and warmed me up while we waited for my parents to arrive. I got grounded for the rest of summer break after that…and I never looked at Tallulah Whitmore the same way again.
I shake my head. My childhood friend is trapped in an overturned car, covered with blood, and she’s scared to death. Though I shouldn’t, I pull my helmet off and lean in close so she can see me better.
“It’s okay, Tallulah. It’s me, Caius. You’re going to be okay. I promise, and I’m not going anywhere until you get into an ambulance, okay?”
“Cai?” she whispers, but her eyes still bore into mine as if she’s not quite sure I am who I say I am.
I slide my fingers between hers. They’re slick with blood but I manage to squeeze them anyway. “Yeah, it’s me.”
She takes a deep breath and her eyes flutter closed again.
“Wake up, beautiful. I can’t have you in and out of consciousness, okay?”
She chuckles, though I am certain it takes a lot of work, judging by her wince. “I’m not. I’m tired, but I’m awake. I’m relieved.” Her eyes lock on mine once more. “Still on that old nickname, are we?”
I grin and adjust so the pressure is off of her neck. “Yep. You’re still beautiful as ever. Seems to fit.”
“Mmm,” she hums but no matter how much I move my hand or squeeze, she doesn’t clasp the fingers of her left hand with mine.
“Do you feel my hand?” I ask and slide it up her left arm. Someone has already bandaged her hand and wrist, but it’s bled through.
“Barely. My hand is numb. I feel it a bit more at the elbow.” It’s hard to tell if her worried tone stems from fear or knowledge of what the issue might be. As if reading my mind, she adds, “I feel everything else. It isn’t spinal as far as I can tell. I think something was lacerated in my wrist.”
Last I heard, she became a surgeon. We lost track of one another during college, but there’s no ill will. Those things happen sometimes, but if she is a doctor, then she knows the deep cuts on her hands, wrists, and forearm could mean some severe nerve damage.
I glance over my shoulder. “The ambulance just pulled up. My guys are working to get the doors pried open, but we’re probably going to need to get the car on its side, stabilize it, then cut it open.”
“You said you wouldn’t leave me. Cai, I’m—”
“I won’t. I won’t, Whits. I’ll be here. I only need to step away for a minute when they roll it, but I promise I’ll be right back in here with you when it’s stabilized. Who else are you going to trust to lift you out?” I give her that childish grin again, knowing it’ll put her at ease. She gives me a nod and takes a deep breath. I brush the bloody hair from her face and pinch her cheek like I used to. “I’ve got you.”
“Gray, we need…” Swanson pauses, takes in our clasped hands and my show of affection. “Do…Do you know her?”
“Yeah. We were childhood friends.” I give him the look that says it’ll take an army to get me off of this call, which is standard protocol when someone we know is injured.
He licks his lips and relents without a word. “All right. The thing is too smashed to turn without putting her in further danger. We’re gonna cut the side off.” Swanson hands me a blanket to cover Tallulah with to protect her from sparks and debris, along with a protective neck brace, then he’s off to issue more orders.
“Here, I’m going to wrap this around you and try to position you so you won’t feel the shaking as much when they cut the car. And you know what this is, yeah?” I show her the neck brace.
“Yeah. All good,” she says and lets me wrap it around her neck.
“Now, just lean on me.” Without further instruction, she presses her body against mine as best she can, considering she’s still stuck in the seat upside down. I wrap my arms around her to further support her body and hold her as still as I can while my friends chop her car to pieces.
The guys get to work and she presses harder against me. Rubbing her arm under the blanket is the only thing I can think to do to ease her worries, but there’s no way around it. She’s in a terrifying situation. Soon enough, the door comes off the driver’s side along with the windshield framing. It’s a large hole now, but we still have to maneuver her out without injuring her further.
“Okay, you’ll have to hold on to me so you don’t fall when they cut the belt.” I wrap my arms tighter around her upper body while Kempler supports her hips. One of the other guys cuts the belt and Kempler supports the weight of her lower body long enough for me to maneuver her into a better position. Then we ease her out to a waiting paramedic.
“Got it from here,” the paramedic says and immediately starts looking over her patient. It isn’t until the paramedic makes eye contact with Tallulah, that she realizes who is on her stretcher. The woman’s eyes go wide and she gasps. “Dr. Whitmore? Dr. Whitmore, oh my goodness!”
“Mmm,” Tallulah hums, exhausted. She reaches for me and tries to grab my hand, but she can’t force her fingers to wrap around my wrist. I take hers in mine and step closer. “Stay with me. Please.” Her voice trembles and her lip quivers. “Please stay with me.”
I glance at Swanson, who nods. “Go ahead. We’ve got this under control. We’ll swing by and pick you up after we get this mess cleared.”
The paramedic in charge, now over her initial shock, instructs the others what to do and where to go. Once Tulip is in the back of the ambulance, the paramedic inserts an intravenous catheter in her arm and begins fluids and pain medications. A plethora of questions follows, along with some medical jargon I can’t decipher, but the two seem to understand one another.
All the while, I hold Tulip’s hand. Just like she held mine while my parents tore into me for disobeying them and diving off the high board. Our friendship skipped about ten years, but here we are. Together. In the back of an ambulance once again.