Sierra’s hands shook as she leaned back between the seats to see what else Beau had in his truck. Unsurprisingly, there was a large first-aid kit in the duffle bag he’d mentioned earlier. She grabbed it and hopped out.
Beau’s head jerked up as she ran toward him.
“Get back in the truck,” he shouted.
She ignored his latest order and used her shoe to sweep a spot relatively clear of glass before getting on her knees beside the gunman across from Beau. The man’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving. But his chest was rising and falling. He was breathing, but appeared to be unconscious.
“It’s not safe,” Beau hissed at her. “These guys could have backup on the way.”
“Then, I’ll have to be fast.” She threw open the kit and grabbed some gauze packets, ripping them open and shoving Beau’s hands away so she could take over.
He didn’t try to stop her again. Instead, he yanked out his pistol and held it down by his side as he looked around.
“What did Collier say?” he asked.
“Nothing. I couldn’t get the call to go through. No service.”
“I’ve never had problems with cell service on this road.”
“I couldn’t get a call out. And I know how to use a phone.”
“Maybe there are sunspots or something interfering with the signal. We’ll have to take him with us to get medical help.”
“If I can’t get this bleeding stopped he won’t make it.” Sierra tore open a fresh pack of gauze and pressed it down over the blood-soaked ones, applying pressure again.
“Do you have a phone on you?” Beau asked. “Maybe we have service here on the road.”
“Here, press down while I get it out.”
He took over while she slid her phone out of her pants pocket. Beau told her the number, and she tried it, then shook her head. “Nothing.” She held her phone out. “Try yourself, if you want.”
“No need. I trust you. These bandages are soaked through.”
She checked the first-aid kit. “The rest are too small. We need something bigger, thicker.”
“Take over.” He lifted his hands, and she immediately covered the bloody gauze with her own hands, desperately trying to stanch the flow of blood that kept oozing down the man’s sides.
A moment later, a wadded up shirt dropped down on top of her hands. She glanced up, expecting to see a shirtless Beau. But she quickly realized it wasn’t his shirt. He was folding up a knife and putting it away next to one of the dead men, whose bullet-riddled chest was now minus a shirt. Beau had cut it off him.
She grabbed it and placed it over the bandages before pressing down again.
Beneath her, the man moaned.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know this must hurt. We have to stop the bleeding.”
The man didn’t respond, no doubt slipping back into unconsciousness, which was probably for the better.
“What do we do now?” she asked when Beau dropped down across from her again.
“We’ll have to load him into the truck and take him to Stella’s B and B. She’s a retired nurse. We don’t have any doctors in town. But I’ve seen her save people against tremendous odds.Another change I made this year was to keep more emergency supplies stocked at her place. We don’t have blood, but she can pump up his blood volume with an IV.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to take him to the hospital in Chattanooga? He definitely needs a transfusion. And we’re closer to Chattanooga now than Mystic Lake.”
“It’s a risk either way. We’re only fifteen or twenty minutes from the city limits. But it’s another thirty or forty minutes after that by car to the hospital, and that’s only if there’s no traffic, which pretty much never happens. We’re only about thirty-five minutes total from the B and B. If Stella can stabilize him, we can fly him to the hospital in the town’s medevac chopper.”
“The town doesn’t have a doctor but you have a chopper?”
“Donation from a wealthy resident. We need to tie that shirt down tight to keep the pressure on when we move him. He’s fairly thin. I can probably tie more shirts around him in a tight knot to keep that one in place. Maybe even use a belt as a tourniquet of sorts to tighten it down. Are you doing okay? Do you need me to take over?”
