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Tears began streaming down the woman’s cheeks. “Our son, he’s almost four.” A hard sob caught in the woman’s throat. “He’s lost so much already.”
Amber’s heart clutched and she knew she had to get away. Heading to the group around the man near death, she hoped they would send her away, but knew she had to offer. Amber angled herself and glanced over Red’s shoulder, then wondered if running away would send Kristy into a tizzy. On the pavement, a woman was holding either side of the man’s head. His long hair only on the right side of his head. The left side of his face was bloodied and peppered with road debris. Not to the point of fully skinned, but if he hadn’t had a thick head of hair his scalp would have been fully visible.
“Lil Bit can’t see this,” Red said under his breath. “He’s got a blown pupil, but he’s responding to stimulus.”
Amber nodded in understanding as a man dark as midnight came back around the semi and approached the group and stated, “Hollywood called an air ambulance, I think he said they’d be coming from Billings. With the highway down on our side, we just need to keep people off the passing lane on the other side of the road. I sent the prospects to handle that.”
“What about oncoming, Onyx?” Red asked.
“Mountain and the semi driver are using his emergency kit to stop traffic best they can.” The man then looked at her. “He’s also trying to keep people away.”
“She’s a nurse,” Red said. “Lil’ Bit stable?”
“She doesn’t need to go by air, but she can’t have civilian transport. I wish I could give her ten of morphine. Her mind is blocking the pain now, but that can’t last.”
“You can give her two,” Red said then opened a kit he had beside him and passed Amber a preloaded syringe. “Have Cass hold her, she won’t want it, but I agree, she’s gonna need it.”
Amber dug in her own first aid kit and retrieved an alcohol wipe. The whole thing made her nervous, but when she glanced at Lil’ Bit, she saw it. Skin paling and sweat beading on her forehead. “I’ve got some pain meds—”
“No,” Kristy replied through gritted teeth. “Tell me what’s going on with Baldy.”
“We have air in route, his going to go to Billings,” Amber said keeping Kristy’s eyes locked on hers, so she wouldn’t be watching Amber ready the syringe. “He’s got a lot of scrapes and he’s unconscious.”
“No,” Kristy sobbed, closing her eyes and tears streamed over her cheeks.
“Can I take your coat to keep him warm?”
Kristy shucked off the leather without haste and passed it to her.
Amber then gave it to Onyx who questioned her with his eyes. Amber took the opening and stroked along the now bare arm, first with hand along Kristy’s arm, then snuck the alcohol prep over her bicep. “He’s responding to stimulus, legs moving so he’s not paralyzed.”
She’d learned the way to angle a needle to avoid pain. Too many years giving vaccinations to babies, but morphine was a thick drug and there was no way she wasn’t feeling the sting of it.
Surprisingly, the woman barely noticed.
Amber continued to give reassuring words before removing the needle and recapping. Not sure exactly what do to in the situation with the empty. Either way she needed to check the others and on her kids. It may have only been about five minutes, but attention spans was what worried her. “I’ll check on the rest,” she said passing the man who had a patch that said Casanova on his leather coat the syringe.
“Thank you,” a young woman with tawny colored skin said as she wrapped her arm around Kristy and held her close. Gently petting her hair.
Returning to the other side of the semi, she saw a man and woman trying to gather themselves and take stock of the situation. Snatching off her gloves, she tossed them into the ditch. Bloodied from Kristy’s leg, she didn’t want to contaminate anyone. Glancing down the road, she saw the kids were in the van, but moving around. Thank God, she had her keys. Double pressing the lock button made the horn honk and her son sat back down in his seat.
“Hi, my name is Amber and I’m a nurse. Let me see what I can do to help,” she said while approaching the couple.
They gave her a quick once over as if scanning her for possible threats.
“They call me Shark and this is Lyna. I think were okay.”
“Let me be the judge of that. You both have head injuries.” Amber opened the first aid kit, gloved up, and grabbed gauze. “Here, hold this to your head, ” Amber told Shark. “It’s bleeding pretty bad, and you definitely need stitches.”
She then scanned Lyna.
Her alabaster skin was marred by a large gash in her chin.
Reaching for more gauze, Amber placed a pad on her chin. “Hold this tight. You look like you’ll need stitches too.”
“Oh great, just what I need. I won’t be able to go on stage for weeks,” Lyna whined.
Amber wondered what she meant, but didn’t take too much time to think about it. She stood.
