Chapter Two Hailey #2
The man nods, already shrugging his daypack off his broad shoulders. “I have a basic climbing kit in my pack. I always carry it just in case.” He extracts equipment with lightning speed—carabiners, a compact harness, rope. All things I’ve used before and am somewhat familiar with.
“I’m Hailey,” I tell him as we move in tandem, preparing to make the ascent.
“Cole,” he responds, hands moving quickly to set up a makeshift rappelling system using a sturdy tree near the rock face.
His movements are precise, confident. He isn’t a hobbyist, he knows what he’s doing, and he’s calm as hell while everyone else is standing around, gawking at the guy on the rock.
Okay, maybe I’m not the only one wondering if he’s dead.
Above us, White Dress Chick has progressed from screaming to ugly crying. Sneaker Man is yelling, “Babe! How do we get down? Babe!”
“Jason!” I call up toward the ledge. “Jason, can you hear me?” A faint groan carries down to us, and I feel instant relief. The entire crowd behind us lets out a breath at once. When it comes to head injuries, conscious—even partially—is always preferable to unconscious.
Sometimes, “not dead” is a bigger victory than people realize.
“Don’t move,” I shout. “Don’t try to sit up, just stay still. I’m coming up to you.”
Cole has the rappelling system ready in record time. “I’ll go up first,” he says. “That way I can offer assistance on the climb if you need it.”
I nod, rolling up my sleeves. “I’ll be right behind you. I need to assess his injuries before anyone tries to move him.”
Cole climbs with smooth efficiency, using the natural features of the rock face with easy strength. I follow more carefully, focusing on secure handholds rather than speed. My heart is pounding, but not from fear. This is a familiar adrenaline rush.
The same one I get every time the ER bay doors crash open.
The rush of doing my job.
Once Cole reaches the overhang, he turns back toward me and extends a strong, calloused hand.
I take it and use his stability to rise higher, situating myself as close as I can without putting too much weight on the unstable ledge.
Cole is so close I can feel his warmth on my back, but his proximity gets pushed to the edge of my awareness when I take my first look at Jason.
He appears to be a man in his mid-twenties, slim build, his white skin gone paler with pain and shock.
There’s blood seeping from a laceration along his temple where his head hit the rock, and another ugly cut on his right forearm where his very expensive-looking leather jacket has torn open.
His right leg is bent at a concerning angle—something of an understatement, since I can see the bone protruding through what used to be a pair of pristine designer jeans.
Somehow—miraculously, idiotically—he’s still clutching his phone.
“Jason,” I say clearly, making eye contact even though he can barely focus on me. He’s going to need a shitload of narcotics to get through this. “My name is Hailey. I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you. Can you tell me where it hurts most?”
“My leg,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “And ribs. Can’t…breathe.”
His rapid, shallow breathing immediately stands out to me—possibly a punctured lung from rib fractures.
“Did Marisa get it?” he wheezes.
I blink. “What?”
“The shot. Did she… Did she get the shot before I—”
“Jason. Focus on me. Can you feel your fingers and toes?” I ask, watching closely for any hesitation in his response.
He wiggles his fingers right away but whimpers when he goes to move his feet. “Left foot…fine. Right…hurts like hell. Fuck.” His voice is strained, each word a short grunt.
“Don’t move it,” I instruct, then turn back to Cole. “We need to secure his neck and spine before we try to move him. I already know his leg is broken, but I’m mostly concerned about any internal injuries we can’t see right now.”
Cole nods, already removing his long-sleeve shirt to create a makeshift cervical collar, revealing a fitted black T-shirt beneath that does absolutely nothing to hide his muscular build.
The practical part of my brain registers that he knows general first aid, while the less professional part notices the way his muscles flex as he works.
I force myself to push that distracting thought aside, focusing on Jason and his vitals.
“Your pulse is strong,” I reassure him, fingers pressed to his wrist as he begins to shake from the start of an adrenaline crash. “Your breathing is a little labored, but you’re not turning blue, so that’s promising. Jason, is there any numbness or tingling in your arms or legs?”
“No,” he manages. “It just…hurts like hell.”
“The rescue team is about fifteen minutes out,” a high-pitched voice calls out from below. “They’re landing a helicopter nearby.”
I exchange glances with Cole. “It’s safer to wait for the proper equipment and more people to move him,” I say. “We just need to make sure this rock isn’t going to give out. No more weight on it than absolutely necessary.”
“Agreed,” he responds, then turns toward Jason. “Hailey and I are going to hang out with you until help arrives. They should be here soon, so hang tight. You’ll be on your way to the hospital before you know it.”
“Don’t… Don’t let her post it,” Jason mumbles.
“What?”
“Marisa. The video. Don’t let her post it.”
Cole and I make brief eye contact over Jason’s body. His mouth twitches, just barely. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral.
“We’ll do our best, Jason,” Cole says solemnly.
Working together, we carefully secure Jason’s neck with the improvised collar, then use climbing gear and first aid supplies to immobilize his injured leg as best we can.
The rescue team will switch everything out for the proper equipment once they’ve got him on stable ground.
They won’t be able to work on him up here. Not like this.
Throughout the process, Cole anticipates my needs remarkably well, handing me supplies before I can ask for them and providing steady support when I need another set of hands.
“You’ve done this before,” I observe during a quiet moment.
“Afghanistan,” Cole replies simply. “Two tours. You learn fast, or people die.”
The matter-of-fact statement explains why he’s handling this so well, yet I find a small piece of me hurting for the pain he must have witnessed—and likely experienced—himself.
“You’re doing great, Jason,” I tell him, watching his pupils as he stares at the sky, fighting to stay awake. “I know it hurts, but try to stay as still as possible.”
Jason gives me a tight smile, sweat beading on his forehead. I’m concerned about shock setting in. Cole seems to read my thoughts, removing a lightweight emergency blanket from his pack and carefully draping it over Jason’s torso.
“To keep him warm,” Cole says quietly.
He doesn’t have to tell me why. I already know it’s because his blood pressure is likely dropping and he’s becoming less stable with every passing minute.
We have no idea what’s going on beneath his skin.
At the very least, he’s got cracked ribs and a very broken leg.
If it’s as bad as I think it is, he likely has internal bleeding.
The next ten minutes pass in a routine of constant vital checks, reassurances to Jason, and preparations for the rescue team’s arrival.
In the brief lulls, I catch Cole observing not just Jason but everything around us—the condition of the climbing equipment, the rapidly expanding crowd below, the two influencers above still trying to figure out how to physically remove themselves from the top of a mountain.
His gaze is analytical but not cold. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s not just taking in details, but trying to memorize them.
We hear the rescue helicopter approach, and we wait patiently while they make their way to us. Cole quickly briefs them on the situation, using precise terminology that confirms his medical background.
Cole and I move to the side, easing pressure on the ledge while the paramedics move in. They carefully transfer Jason to a rescue basket designed for evacuation from this type of terrain. One of them, a woman I recognize from hospital drop-offs, gives me an appreciative nod.
“Nice work with the splint,” she says. “You work at Fort Collins?”
“ER doc,” I confirm, giving her a small smile. “Second-year resident.”
“I thought I recognized you. We’ve got him from here. You guys need help getting down?”
Cole and I exchange glances, silently confirming what I already know. “We’re good,” Cole answers for both of us.
As the rescue team begins the careful process of lowering Jason to where they can transfer him to an actual stretcher, Cole and I gather our scattered supplies. The adrenaline that carried me through the emergency is beginning to wear off, leaving the familiar post-crisis exhaustion in its wake.
“You were amazing,” Cole says, watching me through bright eyes as we prepare to descend.
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I reply, stuffing the remnants of my first aid kit back into my pack.
When I rise to my feet and sling my bag onto my back, my foot slips on a loose rock, and my entire body comes crashing down where Jason landed. Before the pain of my fall can fully register, the rock shifts below me, letting out a thunderous crack as it splits in two.
I sense more than see half the surface below me drop away. My body starts to slide in the same direction—toward open air—when a strong arm wraps around my torso, knocking the wind out of my lungs…but saving me.
I turn as quickly as I can, clawing to hold onto him as tightly as he’s got me. Cole’s scent envelops me as he pulls me into his hard chest. I hear the rock hit the ground below, exploding into countless pieces.
That would have been me.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel the stillness of the moment while my pounding heart slams a frantic rhythm. Cole’s grip around me is so firm I’m sure he can feel each of my heartbeats reverberate through his own chest.