12. Chapter 12
twelve
J ulian flung the chainsaw aside, his left arm crushed against his stomach.
“W-what is it? What happened?” Annie jumped to his side as he doubled over.
Julian’s knees buckled. “Kickback,” he ground out. “Hand. Blade.” He shut his eyes tight like he was holding back another scream.
She whipped off her jacket so quickly her phone flew out of her pocket. Julian gladly wrapped his hand up, winding the fabric around his forearm and fist. She didn’t see the blood, looking away, but when she turned back, Julian’s face had gone from red to an ashen green.
The blood ran from Annie’s face as the severity of the situation clicked. "How bad?" she asked, bracing for the answer, dreading the worst. “Oh, God, did you lose your fingers?”
He shook his head. "Fingers okay. Still a hand. For now." His wide eyes were filled with stifled agony, much like a leaking dam holding back a heavy lake. As he looked into her eyes, Annie could see the worry lurking behind them. He needed a hospital immediately.
“I-I’ll go get my car,” she said, helping Julian to his feet and supporting his weight as she led him to the front steps of his cabin. He swayed a few times, but stayed upright. "I'll be right back. Hang in there." She felt a twinge of panic as she got him sitting down.
Julian’s gaze was distant and somewhat feral. "Okay."
The sound of Annie’s heavy breathing filled the air, accompanied by the distant chirp of birds and the gravel crunching beneath her boots.
As Annie bolted for Molly’s cabin, she couldn’t shake the fear that Julian might pass out or go into shock at any moment.
If that happened, she wouldn’t be able to move him.
Trembling, she got her car and pulled it up as close to Julian as she dared. She helped Julian into the passenger seat. Buckled him in. Once behind the wheel, panting, she went to the next step.
“Directions. Yes,” she muttered to herself. Crap. Her phone, which was what she usually used for maps, was still outside. “One sec.”
How much blood is he losing? Seeing Julian’s blood was unavoidable as she reached down for her phone, the bright red violently striking against the muted tones of the ground.
Her hand brushed a wet blade of grass, leaving a red tint on her finger.
A wave of nausea pinched her stomach. She swiped the blood off onto her pants.
Back in the car, Julian had reclined the chair all the way back. Annie channeled her nervous energy into her bouncing leg. She struggled to search for a hospital, her fingers barely working. "Is Clemency Medical Clinic okay?"
Julian didn't answer as he stared forward.
"Are we going to Clemency?"
"Yes, yes. That's great." Julian winced.
Gravel spit out from under her tires as she got onto the main driveway. "I'll get you down the mountain, okay? E-everything’ll be better once you see a doctor."
Julian nodded and closed his eyes .
Annie’s stomach twisted. She could only imagine the pain he was in. And for that matter, would he still have a hand after all this? She thought she was going to be sick.
No, no. No time for that. He needs you.
He needed her to concentrate. He needed her to get him help quickly. His whole livelihood was at stake.
Steeling herself, she drove.
Julian’s palm burned.
Annie drove them out of town, just past Eureka.
The force of Annie slamming on the breaks in the emergency patient bay at the hospital jostled him in his seat.
She flung off her seatbelt and dashed to the passenger door.
He was careful not to lean his full weight on her as they shuffled inside the austere, white and tan building.
“Name?” asked the reception nurse. She was about his parents’ age with thick black glasses. She eyed the jacket hiding his arm.
“Julian Lincoln.”
“Insurance card. I.D.”
“Ma’am, he’s cut open and bleeding,” Annie snapped. “And can he please get a wheelchair?”
The next few minutes were a bit of a blur.
Julian struggled to keep up, between the nurse saying they were out of wheelchairs at the moment, and ordering Annie to move her car immediately.
Annie helped him to a waiting room chair so he could be triaged while she parked.
He thought he heard her mutter something meant for the nurse under her breath .
Julian rubbed the upper half of his left arm, hugging it closer and closer to his body. He was glad that Annie’s coat was black. Surely it was ruined from all the blood that had—
Don’t think about blood. For a second, the fluorescent lights in the room took on a disturbing sharp shade of electric green.
When she returned, Annie helped him pull his insurance and I.D. from his wallet. He was glad he hadn’t lost the habit of carrying it, considering how rarely he interacted with anyone on the mountain in the middle of the week.
The reception nurse handed Annie a clipboard with a pen attached to a string of yellow yarn.
“Here. I’ll do the writing,” she said.
Grateful but irritated, he followed along and supplied his answers before she even had the chance to ask for them. The fact that there were no supremely embarrassing questions was a relief. And although he trusted Annie, it made him uncomfortable that she was learning so much about him.
“I would’ve thought you were younger, Julian.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Late twenties. Early thirties at the most.”
Julian had turned thirty-seven around Thanksgiving. “I’m not old.”
Annie cracked a smile while she filled in his reason for visit. Her penmanship was curly and curvy. “I’m twenty-seven... by the way. But my birthday is in a few months.” She continued to fill out the chart. When she was done, she returned it to the front desk, and handed him back his cards.
Julian closed his eyes. A doctor would be with him in a few minutes.
“The last time I was in a hospital,” Annie said, “was because I tripped on a gopher hole at soccer practice. I missed the season. ”
"Yeah?" Was she trying to distract him? He tried to keep the pain out of his voice, but he ended up sounding sarcastic, which wasn't his intention. He swallowed thickly. "The last time I was a patient in a hospital, my mom was doing all the leg work."
Annie giggled.
It was a fib, of course, but her laugh helped. He liked it when she laughed.
“I hated soccer, but my mom wanted me out of the house,” Annie continued. “I wanted to stay home so I could write and watch cook shows. I wished for practice to be canceled every day. I guess I got my wish. They even went to the Championships without me and everything. I wasn’t a sports kid.”
"I was a sports kid," Julian admitted.
"I would've thought you were one of the quiet kids who kept to himself."
That wasn’t too far from the truth. On a visceral level, he didn’t click with his teammates, but the last thing he wanted was to be at home.
The jocks and cheerleaders could also be counted on if you needed a favor, and they always knew where the parties were going to be.
Teachers also seemed happier to be around the sports kids than the non-athletes.
“I loved it, but any excuse for me to cut class. I’d rather work with my hands than my head,” he replied, perhaps with more honesty than he wanted.
Pain must be loosening up these lips. “I’m normally better with both. ”
“Today just wasn’t your day,” she replied sympathetically. Annie looked like she wanted to ask him more questions, but a blonde-haired nurse called him before she had the chance.
“Julian Lincoln?” A young nurse in flower scrubs walked up with a wheelchair. Apparently someone had found one.
He stood up to move, and immediately was hit with a wave of dizziness. Annie stood up, and he nearly bumped into her before he plunked back down into his chair .
“Easy, easy.” The nurse and Annie helped Julian into the wheelchair. “Here, we’ll wheel you back and get you stitched and cleaned up, Mr. Lincoln.” The nurse turned to Annie. “Are you family?”
Annie shook her head. “I drove him here.”
“She’s unrelated,” Julian answered.
"You'll have to wait here, miss," the nurse said as her fingers brushed Julian's shoulder.
"I'll wait for you," Annie said, clasping her hands. "How long do you think?" she asked the nurse.
"We'll know more once we've assessed the damage. And the doctor’s busy." The nurse spun him around effortlessly.
Julian looked over his shoulder at Annie. She waved back at him.
Once they were behind a set of swinging doors, the nurse said, "Your name sounds familiar. Did you go to South Fork High School? Well, good chance you probably did if you ended up in our ward. But your name sounds familiar."
"Yeah, I went there." He stared forward.
"I’m Dee Croft and — well, I hope that name means anything…?"
Now he remembered. She’d been in the class below his. A band kid… but he didn't recall much else. "You played... pep band?"
"Yeah! Trumpet. I loved watching the games. You were great! When you guys went to State it was amazing. You got a scholarship, didn't ya?"
"I wish."
“Well, that’s too bad. You deserved one.”
Dee wheeled him through an open doorway and closed the door behind them.
She put on gloves. “Let’s have a looksee real quick before I help you onto the bed.
..” She tenderly moved his arm away from his chest and dug through the folds of the coat.
She pulled the ruined coat away and laid it on the floor.
He looked up at the ceiling and winced as she turned his hand over. It felt like he’d stuffed his hand into a beehive lined with stinging nettles and rose thorns.
“You did a good job applying pressure. Want me to tell you what I see?”
He didn’t want to hear it, but his hands were his livelihood.
“I don’t have to tell you.”
He sighed. “No. Tell me.”
“So… what exactly happened?”
“Took the kickback of a saw blade straight to the palm.” It had happened incredibly fast, but the image of his hand falling on the teeth of the chain was burned into his brain. “Hand slipped off the handle.”