25. Carly
Carly
M y throat burns from breathing in smoke at the warehouse.
I desperately want to chug down glass after glass of water but the nurse made it clear that the oxygen mask covering my nose and mouth wasn’t to be moved.
It’s pumping my body with a high concentration of oxygen and that’s the highest priority.
The hospital room has four beds. Taj is next to me and two of the much younger kids are asleep across from us. Taj is in and out of sleep himself, but he stirs and I glance over at him.
‘You okay?’ I ask, the sound muffled through my mask, but he hears me and grunts in response.
Taj pulls down his mask and I glance at the door assuming the nurses have some sort of oxygen mask sixth sense and will come here soon to tell him off.
‘Carly, I’m scared.’
The whole time we were in the warehouse, Taj was my rock. Despite being younger than me, he’d been there longer and had a calming effect on me. Hearing him sound vulnerable now makes my heart ache. ‘You’re safe now. We’re okay.’
Taj closes his eyes for a moment before looking back at me. ‘What if they’ve given up on me? Moved away? Had a funeral? Moved on?’
Now, I pull my own mask down to make sure Taj hears me clearly. ‘There’s not a chance your parents have stopped looking for you and moved on. Not a chance. You told me what your family is like and it sounds like they’d be the types to do everything they could to bring you home.’
‘It’s been more than three months though.’
I nod. ‘I know.’ And I smile. ‘It’s going to be a beautiful reunion.’
‘Masks on please,’ a nurse reminds us, cutting off our conversation. Taj smiles back at me before fixing his mask back in place.
The police officers warned us our families could take some time to get to us.
For those of us old enough to give our names and addresses, it would likely be sooner, provided we hadn’t been moved interstate.
But the poor young children who don’t know their last names or addresses would have to wait longer as the police look through missing persons records.
A few hours after I arrive in the hospital though, a nurse helps me into a wheelchair, hooks my oxygen onto the side and wheels me out of the room.
I don’t know where she’s taking me and I begin pulling at the mask, worrying there is something wrong with me and they haven’t told me.
The nurse must sense my panic and places a firm hand on my shoulder. She leans down to me and says, ‘I didn’t want to bring your family to your room when it could be a while before the other kids see theirs.’
I gasp, bringing a hand to my chest. My family. They’re already here.
The nurse wheels me into what looks like a small lounge area. She makes sure my tubes are all in place still and then leaves. Moments later, my parents walk in and my eyes fill with tears.
I can’t help the loud, shoulder heaving sobs that escape me. There were moments in the warehouse when I thought I’d never see them again. Each day, I’d add a tally mark and lose more hope that I’d ever be found.
Mum and Dad run over to me, they’re both crying too. Mum bends down and wraps her arms around my neck while Dad buries his face into the top of my head.
We stay like that, in an embrace for several minutes, before the machine connected to my mask begins beeping. Mum and Dad pull away and the nurse rushes back in to check on me.
She pulls at the tubes and the beeping stops. ‘All good. Must have blocked the tube for a moment.’
‘We’re sorry,’ Mum says, and Dad rubs her back.
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’m still breathing.’
Dad’s face breaks into a wide, watery smile. ‘Our Carly is still in there.’
‘Darling,’ Mum says, sitting in a chair next to me and taking my hand. She strokes it gently and the warm touch is better than anything I’ve ever felt. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Okay, I guess. My chest hurts a bit and I know I look pretty bad right now but I’m okay.’
‘You’ve been through a lot. There’s a fair bit of recovery ahead of us but you’re strong. Always have been.’
I nod, knowing it’s going to be a long time before life is normal again, if it ever really goes back to normal.
Will I catch up on all my school work? Will my friends still want to hang out with me after everything that’s happened or will they start acting all weird?
Will I ever get back on the soccer pitch?
But the main thing weighing on me is will Iris be okay?
Another sob rips through me and Mum startles. ‘What happened?’ she asks. ‘Does something hurt?’
I take a deep breath through my mask, trying to calm the tears. ‘No, no, I’m fine. I’m just worried about Iris.’
‘Iris. I’ve heard that name. Who is she?’ Dad asks.
‘She helped save us all. And then they took her.’
Dad gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m sure the police are doing everything they can to bring her home. And then we will thank her for bringing you back to us.’
I hope he’s right. Knowing Iris sacrificed herself for me and the others, I’m not sure I could live with the guilt if she doesn’t make it home.