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Doc cautiously touched Cueball’s head. A large gash above his left eyebrow needed stitches, but otherwise he didn’t look half bad, given the circumstances. “Could’ve been worse,” he finally said. “I’ll patch you up when we get to the lodge.”
They moved closer to the edge, and Hawk whistled low. “Shit, looks like the truck rolled a few times. The windshield’s shattered.”
Peering through the rain, Doc caught sight of the truck bashed against a fallen tree. One wrong move and both would fall down the side of the mountain to a rocky fate below.
Hawk hooked up the winch to the truck, then tied the rope around his waist. “I’ll check on Snoop and the kids.”
“We got your back, brother,” he said, grateful Cueball took over manning the winch. It freed him up to help Hawk with the kids.
Hawk carefully slid down the embankment, mud clinging to him by the time he reached the red truck. He spoke with Snoopy, their words drowned out by the storm overhead. Doc stood patiently at the top, ready to move when he was called. He’d packed extra medical supplies in his bag, always prepared for the worst. The local ambulance was on its way but wouldn’t get there in time if someone needed immediate assistance.
Finally, Hawk opened the passenger door, and a small body scurried out before the door closed again. He whistled and tugged on the rope. Slowly the winch started to wind, Hawk carefully walking up the side of the slippery slope.
When he was closer, Doc saw the issue. The child nestled against Hawk’s chest wasn’t moving. Doc grabbed the rope and met Hawk halfway.
“Snoop said he ate one of the granola bars in the truck and started blowing up like a balloon. I think it’s an allergic reaction,” Hawk relayed, handing off the boy no older than three.
Working fast, Doc checked for a pulse and hurried back up the muddy incline while Hawk stayed behind. Reaching the top, he settled the boy on the ground and immediately grabbed an EpiPen.
“C’mon, little guy,” he urged, jabbing the pen in the boy’s leg. Rain dripped down his face, blurring his vision.
Finally the boy gasped a lungful of air, and Doc sighed with relief.
“Hey, buddy,” he said softly. “You’re gonna be all right. Let’s get you in the truck, okay?”
The child’s bright blue eyes shone back at him with a mixture of panic and uncertainty. He didn’t utter a word, merely nodded his understanding.
Once Doc stabilized the youngster in the truck, he returned to the real issue at hand. Mud slid down the hill at rapid speed now, and Snoopy’s truck creaked with movement. Jumping into the middle of the problem, he raced down to the truck and helped Hawk secure the winch.
“Hit it!” Hawk called amid a thunderclap.
The winch groaned at the heavy load, and he started to panic when Snoopy’s truck barely moved. “Try the engine again.”
Snoopy cranked the key, but only sputtering echoed among the raindrops. “Shit!”
Doc exchanged a worried glance with Hawk. If they couldn’t get the truck back on the road soon, the mudslide would take it down the mountain instead. Snoopy kept trying, but the only sound that came from the truck was the biker’s cursing.
Waving to Hawk, he waited until the other man neared. “We gotta evacuate them or they’re not making it to breakfast.”
Hawk’s eyes snapped between the truck and the steep incline. “We can’t unhitch the truck or it’ll slip.”
“Then we need Cueball to keep the winch on and we’ll take the kids up one at a time.”
“All right, let’s do it.” Thunder boomed overhead, and Hawk wiped rain from his brow. “And fast. I don’t like how this night’s going. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“Same, brother, same.” Doc took the first child and scaled the slope, keeping a steady grip on the winch’s rope. Once he safely handed off the little girl to Cueball, he met Hawk halfway up with a boy in his arms.
Ten minutes later, Hawk was on the last run, and Doc patted the truck hood. “You’re up, Snoop.” He frowned when the man didn’t respond. Rounding the truck, he checked for a pulse and gritted his teeth when a weak one met him. He opened the door and immediately saw the issue. After the truck rolled, a piece of the dash broke, and a shard stuck in Snoopy’s leg. Blood dripped down the chair and pooled on the rubber mats below.
“Fuck.” Doc reached over and grabbed a towel from the passenger side, then followed the blood to its origin wound. He swore again at the recognizable femoral artery. Medical training surged in his mind. Untreated femoral injuries could lead to death, and he wasn’t about ready to let that happen on his watch.
He rummaged through the glovebox and found a box of bullets.This’ll work.Fixing it wouldn’t happen then and there, but he could plug the bleeding until the ambulance arrived. Moving fast, he whipped out his knife and cut the jeans around the wound. The plastic sticking in Snoopy’s leg was plugging the artery and limiting blood loss, but it needed to be removed in order to get him out of the truck.
He broke open the bullets and poured them in the empty box. Recalling his emergency training, he searched the cab for a lighter. “Of all days to forget your light,” he muttered, checking Snoopy’s pockets only to come up empty.
Stepping away from the truck, he whistled and waved at Hawk to help him. Within a few minutes, the two were ready for the cauterization.
“And you’re sure this’ll work?” Hawk asked, hands ready to pry the shard out of Snoopy’s leg.
