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The Jensens? I have no clue who they are. Mitch and Abby always address their guests and patients by their first names. Mitch said they live by the river. Does that mean someone is drowning? Then why the crash? A landslide?
It seems only seconds before Mitch pulls into the driveway of a bungalow with a red roof. A woman with a baby on her hip and an expression of alarm on her face rushes to greet him.
“Mitch!”
“What happened, Grace?” he asks her as he hops out of the truck.
“The tree house in the back collapsed. The kids…”
Mitch doesn’t wait to hear more. He runs towards the back of the house. I follow him. I know I’m probably not welcome, but I might be needed. And I can’t just sit inside a truck when there’s danger and panic hanging in the air.
Strange, I think as I run down the path as fast as I can with my recent injuries, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I feel like I’ve been in this situation before.
Stay in the van.
The voice in my head comes out of nowhere. A memory? I can’t come up with a face to match it. Or a name.
I push it aside with a frown. Now isn’t the time to be remembering things. There are people in danger. Children. I have to help Mitch save them.
Finally, I see the tree house. Or at least, what used to be a tree house. It’s just a messy pile of logs now, more like a pyre. A few men are scrambling to get every piece off to save the children trapped underneath. So far, I can see two of them. The women are tending to the crying children with scrapes and bruises, the lucky ones who must have managed to jump off before the tree house fell apart.
Mitch rushes over to help. I start to follow him but stop when I catch something shiny from the corner of my eye – a golden ribbon tangled in a bush on the slope leading down to…
My eyes grow wide. The river! A little girl must have fallen into it!
As I make my way down in haste, I glance at the river. I can’t see the bottom, so it must be more than two feet deep. The current doesn’t look like it’s moving that fast, but that could be only on the surface. What if the little girl has already been swept away? What if she’s already…?
Suddenly, I hear a splash. It’s only for a second, but I see a hand emerge from the water.
I run. Without taking any of my clothes off, I jump into the river. It’s deeper than I thought, the water reaching up to my chest. I start to swim in the direction of where I saw the girl’s hand. The current threatens to carry me off. My clothes weigh me down. But my body pushes forward, my arms and legs seemingly moving on their own.
I guess I’m a good swimmer.
Eventually, I see the girl. Her dress looks like it got caught on a branch wedged between two rocks. Maybe that’s a good thing. Now I just need to get her free and bring her out of the water.
My chest starts to ache from holding my breath. As I struggle to take the dress off the girl, my side, the side where my ribs got broken and have just healed, begins to hurt. Still, I continue.
I can’t afford to stop even for a moment while this girl’s life is in the balance. Every second counts.
I rip off another button.
Come on.
Just when I feel like my lungs are about to burst, the dress finally comes off. I peel it off the little girl and carry her to the surface. As my lungs suck in air, I feel like a corpse that’s been brought back to life.
Now, I just have to make sure this little girl experiences the same miracle.
I bring her to the bank and set her down on the grass. Then I place my ear next to her mouth and nose to check if I can hear her breathing. Nothing. I tilt her head back and check her mouth for any obstruction. None. I press my fingers against her carotid. No pulse, either. Time to do CPR.
I start with the chest compressions and then breathe into her mouth. When there isn’t any improvement, I do it again. Halfway through the second round of chest compressions, I hear voices from above.
“Hey! It’s Maggie!”
“Who’s that boy with her?”
“What the hell does he think he’s doing?”
“Someone get Mitch in here!”
I ignore them and continue pressing down on the girl’s chest.
Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.
I give her two more breaths. Still nothing.
“Antonio!” I hear Mitch as he comes down.
I start a third round of chest compressions.
One. Two. Three. Four…
