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Spinning around, I could see the difference in Lea instantly. Grabbing my backpack from the floor, I found my stethoscope. Putting it on, I pressed the circular end to her back.
“Okay. We need to move her, but there’s a chance she’s broken her back, damaged her neck… well, we have no idea, so we need to move fast, but moving her as little as possible.”
“What… how?”
“I’m going to stabilize her neck, Lenny, you’re going to put your hands under her shoulders and we’re going to ease her forward. When her hips are out, we’ll stop and you two put your hands under her stomach and her knee and we’re going to lift her to the floor.” Her breathing grew shallower as I spoke. “We need to move fast, but carefully. Once she’s flat on the floor, we need to roll her.”
My palms were sweaty and my heart raced as I battled to keep my memories from making this impossible. I slipped my hand under her cheek, my other one stabilizing her, as I whispered a silent prayer.
“Lenny, on three, ease her forward slowly. One, two, three.” He pulled her until her hips were clear and then Fox and Dawson stepped in, helping to move her until she was on the ground. “Right, each of you, press one hand to her back and the other to her arm, hip, thigh… whatever you can reach and again, on three, we roll her slowly. We can’t break her.”
Once she was on her back, I listened to her chest again, hoping what I’d heard had been wrong, but there it was, the telltale sounds that made my PTSD past come railing back like a rocket, smashing through my years of experience.
“I’m sorry, Sugar. I can’t do this,” I whispered, not even realizing anyone could hear me.
“Can’t do what?” Dawson asked.
“I can’t help her? Lenny, call the paramedics again. Check how long they will be.”
Lenny moved away to make the call, and I stared down at Lea, watching the life ebb from her body.
“Can’t do what, Marshall? Do not freak out on me now. Talk to me. To us,” Dawson demanded.
I looked between them, hating seeing the pain that was etched into their faces. “She has a tension pneumothorax. Basically, air is collecting in her chest and her lung has collapsed. She’s struggling to breathe. I need to drain the air so there is space for her lung to re-inflate.”
“How the fuck are you going to do that? You’re a bodyguard, not a doctor.”
Lenny appeared. “They are clearing the road so they can get the helicopter to land, plus there is another major incident that was ongoing, so they are still at least five mins away.”
“What the fuck?” My anxiety was all consuming but something else kicked in… instinct, memory, fear of losing something I’d found in such a chaotic way… I didn’t know what, but I knew I couldn’t stand there and watch her die. However, my past was standing in my way like an impenetrable wall. “Call Matt. Now.” I turned to Fox. “Did you find any alcohol?”
He nodded over to the side, where there were a couple of bottles of clear spirits.
“Grab me one. I need a knife. A penknife will do. Dawson?”
“On it.” He handed me his phone.
“Be quick. She doesn’t have long.”
“Marshall?” Matt’s voice echoed out of the speakerphone.
“Lea’s had an accident. There’s been a really bad crash. She can’t breathe. I don’t think I can do this… not again.”
He didn’t even pause before he replied. “Marshall, you will help her. You will let your training take over. You know what you’re doing. Save her. Do not overthink this. Do you hear me?”
“What if—”
“No. If you do nothing, then her death is on you. Help her, give her a chance. Whatever happens, Marshallyou tried. Do your job.”
“Understood.”
I hung up just as Dawson and Fox ran back, bringing me what I needed. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a pair of scissors, cutting open her top. Her breaths were shallow, sounding almost painful.
Grabbing a thin plastic tube from my bag next, I handed it to Fox. “Cover the knife in the alcohol and then one end of this.”
I heard the glugging noise as he sterilized the knife before handing it to me. Pressing my fingers to her ribs, her breathing now minimal, I found her second intercostal space and lined the knife up at a 90-degree angle. My hand shook, tears filled my eyes, my head bowed. “I can’t,” I whispered, not sure who I was talking to. “We should wait for the ambulance.”
“Do we have that long?” Dawson asked, and I could only shake my head. She had a minute or two, if that. Her life was in my shaking hands and I couldn’t get past my fear. A hand stroked my jaw, causing me to look to the side to find Dawson and Fox crouched beside me. Fox placed his hand on my shoulder as Dawson leaned his forehead against mine.
