Chapter Eight
Sommer
Sommer jolted awake, grabbing at her phone and tapping the call open when she saw it was Abbie. “Jesus, what time is it?”
“Midnight.” Abbie didn’t sound like she was in crisis, but she was definitely wide awake at a time when she usually slept like the dead. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Swinging her legs out from under the covers, Sommer raked her nails over her head as she asked, “What’s going on?”
“Two kids went missing from the family trailer up on Sweet Gum Ridge. Search and Rescue is in the field, but temperatures are going to drop toward morning, and the kids probably only have their pajamas on. Wet with dew, cold, they’re at risk. One of them is a runner; she’s on the spectrum.”
“Are they checking all the area water spots?” Sommer was up and turning on lights, though she didn’t quite get why Abbie was calling her about this situation.
“The professionals are on it. I’m sure they have a checklist. Anyway, emergency services are reaching out to hiking clubs who have familiarity with the area.”
“Ours does. With Sweet Gum only an hour from here, we hike a bunch of those trails with some regularity. They could put us on one of them.”
“Exactly. They want the hiking clubs to take the trails, and the trained searchers are going to spread out and, I guess, search the areas between the trails. They have horse teams and dog teams, the whole shebang. They’re just trying to get skilled bodies out there looking fast. I’m heading up.
I don’t know how you’re doing after working fifteen hours straight. ”
“I can rally myself to save some kids,” Sommer said, heading to her wardrobe to pull out a set of trail clothes. “Are you already dressed? Can you come get me?”
“My car’s in the shop, remember? I’ve got Marna heading to my house. We can drive to yours. But from there, we’ll need to take your SUV. Marna says hers is making a weird noise. She doesn’t want to drive it on the highway in the middle of the night.”
“No problem, we’ll take mine. Is Jennifer coming?” Sommer asked, reaching for a pair of panties.
“Jen’s out of town for work.”
“That’s right, New Orleans. Okay, well, three can be helpful.”
“I’m sure there will be more from the club,” Abbie said. “I’m doing my part of the phone tree. You’re my last call.”
“I’m the roots of that tree, so no one to call. Lucky me. What kind of gear are you bringing?”
“Marna and I decided to bring our overnight packs just in case we’re out there for longer than expected.”
“Or we’re too damned tired to get back off the mountain.” Coffee would be a good next move, Sommer decided and started toward the kitchen.
“That’s entirely possible. Hey, Sommer, I hesitated to call you. You were on your feet all day. Are you going to be okay to do this?”
“I’ll be okay. I’m motivated.”
“Alright. Juice your phone. Bring a power bank.”
“Yup. Coffee first. Pants second. Then I’ll grab my pack and be waiting.”
Abbie lived a few minutes up the road, so Sommer would have to hustle.
After putting water in the microwave to heat, Sommer dragged her overnight pack from the closet and laid it on the kitchen table.
She pulled out all the components, filled the camel bag with water, then consulted her list to make sure everything she needed was clean and ready for use, and that she had fresh batteries in the front pockets.
She dumped espresso powder into the mug, gave it a stir, then added an ice cube so she could chug it while she checked the weather on Sweet Gum and dressed in layers.
And lastly, but most importantly, she put what she knew of her itinerary on a note on the kitchen table, took a picture of it, and sent it to her sister Sloane.
Pregnant with twins, Sloane guarded her sleep, so the text wouldn’t get to her until later that morning when the “do not disturb” would end.
The closest Sloane came to hiking was vicariously through Sommer. But she played the important role of emergency contact because Sommer knew that if she didn’t check in on time, Sloane would be dogged getting help headed her way.
That was one of the benefits of being a twin, and her soon-to-arrive nieces would inevitably have that same close connection with each other.
By the time Sommer was sitting on her couch, lacing up her boots, Abbie was parking on the street.
She checked that her front door was locked, then rounded to the back of her SUV to stow her bag. “Hey,” she called, lifting a hand to greet her friends. “The moon is so full, it’s going to make things a little easier,” Sommer observed, “even with the usual mountain mist.”
Abbie tipped her head back, looking at the wisps of clouds that created lace over the light.
When she tipped back down, her focus traveled over to the graveyard.
“Hey, I looked things up for you. I was right about the salt across the threshold.” She turned back to Sommer.
“And there’s a thing about putting a coin in your hand and sprinkling cinnamon. I wrote it all down for next time.”
“Thanks.”
Marna chucked her bag in the back hatch then tugged the keys from Sommer’s hand. “You’re resting. I’m driving.”
“Fine by me.” Sommer pulled the hatch down and moved to the back passenger seat so she could put her legs up. Laced up in her boots, her feet throbbed from being up and moving for so long. She’d take the boots off once they started driving.
The three were quiet as they drove out of the neighborhood, down the road, then up the ramp onto the highway.
At this hour, it was mostly populated with long-haul truckers heading west.
Abbie turned toward Marna. “You were both at work. How’d that go for you? Should I be the one driving?”
“I worked last night,” Marna said. “But full moons seem to last for three nights in a row.” Marna glanced around, then switched lanes.
“Okay, I’m not talking about a specific patient that might have come in last night,” Marna said, turning down the radio.
“But I did use a new technique that isn’t what you might call textbook, though it worked well enough on a night when we were slammed. ”
“Full moons are the worst for unusual patients and the best for ingenuity,” Sommer said, balling up her jacket to use as a pillow.
“Your hospital was busy tonight, too?” Marna asked.
“I was only there until ten, but it was a madhouse.” Sommer shifted around until she found a comfortable position with the jacket wadded between her neck and the window. “Tell me about your new technique.”
Marna glanced at Sommer in the rearview mirror. “Imagine a widow of a certain age. Said hypothetical woman was feeling lonely and decided she might try to pleasure herself with an oiled banana.”
“Haven’t we all had nights of quiet desperation?” Abbie asked, shifting in her seat so she was looking at Marna.
“Possibly, but I would counsel anyone attempting to indulge in a pleasure banana that they never peel it first.”
“No!” Sommer gasped.
“Hypothetically,” Marna said.
“What did the attending say?”
“All the doctors were elbow deep in people’s intestines.
Surgery was backed up for hours, if not days.
The waiting room was full to overflowing.
I’m telling you it’s not one night of full moon, it’s three.
There were no more chairs, and people were spreading their jackets on the floor, lying in fetal position.
This hypothetical patient was lucky to get a room.
And she only got a room because of the privacy of her situation. Hypothetically.”
“Let’s say that got called in for a preauthorization. What do you think would happen?” Abbie asked.
“I don’t know.” Sommer grimaced. “Is there a code for banana extraction?”
“That’s not what happened,” Marna said. “What happened was my hypothetical lady started to wheeze and clutch her chest. She said if I didn’t get it out, she was going to have a heart attack, so if I were actually living through this scenario, I would corner a doctor and come up with a plan.”
Did Sommer want to ask? Yes, yes, she did. “And the plan was?”
“To put her heels in stirrups—”
“Nope,” Abbie said with both hands waving through the air, “Stop. I don’t want to hear. I hate being friends with one nurse, but somehow, I’m friends with three.”
“Put your fingers in your ears. Sommer might need this someday.” Marna slowed as the traffic in front of her braked. “Heels in stirrups, use a rubber-coated baby food spoon. Work in small bits.”
Sommer was imagining her friend hard at work from the foot of the bed.
And it was unusual, sure, but Sommer had done worse.
There was the homeless guy who came in falling-down drunk with a leg covered in maggots.
It had been her job to get him all cleaned up.
And that had taken some spine-stiffening self-talk to get herself through.
In the end, the maggots were a blessing because they’d debrided his wounds, which were clean as a whistle. At first, from the smell, she was sure he had a case of gangrene, and he’d lose his leg. Surprise, surprise, he didn’t need surgery at all, just fresh bandaging and a round of antibiotics.
“Under the circumstances,” Marna said, “with the night going the way it was, that was the least problematic of our cases, just not something I’d learned in nursing school.”
“That’s unimaginable.” Abbie crossed her arms over her eyes. “I shan’t imagine it. I shall close my eyes and scrub that image from my cranium.”
“You go, girl,” Marna laughed. “Don’t miss any of the folds. That goop can hide pretty well, and then it would start to decompose and ferment and with it come all kinds of infections.”
“Stop,” Abbie said. “I don’t know why I listen to your hospital stories.”
“Not a story,” Marna corrected as she pressed down on the gas pedal as the lane picked up speed, “a hypothetical with a possibly useful technique, you know, for when push comes to shove.”
“I’d imagine that push did come to shove, but that’s when things fell apart,” Sommer said with a grin.