22. Carly
Carly
I ’m frozen. Shock has taken hold. Some of the other kids are screaming and crying.
The bodies of our captors lie lifeless in the warehouse with us.
The sound of sirens gets closer, and a loud moaning sound snaps me from my shock.
It’s Brent. I rush over to him, still scared of the man I knew as Eddie.
He’s lying on his back, blood pooling around him from the gunshot he took to the stomach.
I attempt to find a pulse, but I don’t know what I’m doing.
My health teacher taught us how to find our own pulse in class last year, but hunger and fear are forcing out any knowledge I retained from the lesson. Brent groans again.
I swallow back the lump in my throat and pray I don’t vomit and make this disaster worse.
‘Is he dead?’
I glance up to see Taj.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Have you checked his pulse?’
My cheeks flush. ‘No, I don’t remember how to.’
‘I do, well did, Nippers back home. I know some First Aid.’
The sirens grow closer.
‘Let me check,’ he adds, and I move out of the way.
Taj presses two fingers to Brent’s neck, below his jaw. ‘It’s faint but it’s there.’
My shoulders sag with relief. Iris will be glad to know her friend is okay, for now. Oh my God, Iris . I’d forgotten she’d been taken away. I’ve been caught up in the moment here with Brent.
There’s a loud bang from the front of the warehouse and smoke begins pouring through the gap under the door.
Taj and I stand and move closer to the entrance of the warehouse and the heat hits us when we’re about a metre away.
‘Fire,’ I say quietly. ‘Everyone move to the back,’ I yell. ‘Taj, help me drag Brent.’