Page 65

That night, 4:21 a.m.

“She’s alive,” Emmy says into the radio, a little burst of joy inside her. “She’s alive.”

“I’ll head back to the huts to radio mainland,” Sam says.

Emmy gazes up at the sky. The cloud cover has dissipated, and she can see the constellations above her. It’s about an hour from dawn. If they hurry, they can get a helicopter here at sunrise. A blast of wind barrels off the ocean, nearly plowing Emmy over. The waves continue to thrash the coastline. If they’re this strong here, they are certainly insurmountable ten miles out in the ocean. There’s no way a boat or a helicopter is coming in this weather.

“Hold off for now,” Emmy says. “We need to move her ASAP. I’ll try to get her away from the water, but can you find a board, the emergency gear?”

They keep emergency medical equipment, warming blankets, and instant ice packets on the island, but Emmy can’t remember the last time they did inventory and restocked. Accidents don’t happen here. Until now. And it won’t merely be an accident if Cassie isn’t breathing. If Emmy can’t reestablish her breath.

Emmy reaches over to put her hand in front of Cassie’s mouth. Nothing. Not even a waft. She’s going to need to flip Cassie onto her back. That way, she can move the hair from Cassie’s face and have clearer access to the woman’s airway. Emmy begins to put her arm under Cassie’s neck but can already tell it won’t be enough support. There’s no way she alone can move the body without risking snapping Cassie’s neck.

As she’s debating her next move, fearing that even if she does get her turned over, she’ll have to do a jaw thrust, something she’d never performed before, she hears voices grow louder.

“Dave, stop.”

Dave. Dave Bent, Cassie’s husband. Emmy cannot let him see Cassie like this, cannot risk him touching her body, her life so fragile. One wrong shift could make her injuries fatal.

Emmy steps back over Cassie and positions herself in front of the body, protecting it as best she can. They don’t have time for this.

“Dave, stop,” another voice shouts. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“Cassie,” Dave screams, his voice getting louder as he approaches. “Cassie.”

When he mounts the large boulder and is in the cove, Emmy cautiously navigates toward him. In darkness, there’s no way he can see Cassie behind her. She needs to keep it that way.

“Sir, I need you to stay back. We’re going to take care of your wife. The best thing you can do right now is let us do our job.”

For the moment, there is no we. Sam is too far to help. And this has never been part of the job before.

As Emmy steadies herself on the wet rocks, salt water lashing her ankles, she waits to see what Dave will do. If he’ll dart toward his wife. If he’ll tackle Emmy when she tries to stop him. Instead, he falls to his knees and wails.

The other parents materialize around the boulder, freezing when they see Dave. The two doctors don’t move. Sofía bends down and wraps her arms around Dave. He leans into her, but she’s looking at Emmy, waiting for an update.

“She’s got a faint pulse at the carotid. Nothing at the left radial.” Emmy shines her light quickly behind her to indicate the body. “I haven’t been able to clear her airway yet. We need to turn her over.”

“Have you checked for internal bleeding?” one of the doctors asks. His light catches on Cassie’s hiking boot. He runs his flashlight up her legs and torso, illuminating individual sections of her unmoving body. “We need to check her torso for bruising.”

He walks toward her. Not to be left out, the other doctor follows. Emmy can’t tell them apart in the darkness.

“Careful,” Emmy says weakly as the men circumvent her and lean over Cassie. They don’t touch her. They just stare. Then one of the doctors angles away from her body and begins to vomit.

This springs Sofía to action. She leaves Dave crying into his hands and tiptoes over the slick rocks to Cassie. She bends down and puts her small flashlight in her mouth, holding it steady as she checks Cassie’s back, then her neck and mouth, before the wrist. It’s the same series of actions that Emmy performed. Only, in the right order. And Sofía is more efficient, her every movement more confident.

“I can’t feel anything through her hair.” Sofía says as she moves her hand in front of Cassie’s mouth. “We need to flip her.”

“Don’t you want to check all her extremities for a pulse?” the doctor who is not dry heaving says. “We need to make sure she’s got proper blood flow, see if we have to straighten any broken bones, so she doesn’t lose her limbs.”

Sofía squats, positioning herself behind Cassie’s head, impervious to the cold waves that splash up her legs. “Her hands won’t matter if she’s dead.”

The doctors turn to gauge whether Dave has heard this remark, but Dave is lost to all of them, curled up and muttering to himself about Cassie, how he can’t lose her. Sofía slips her arm beneath Cassie’s head, stabilizing her friend’s neck on her forearm. Emmy notices that she manages to do this without so much as shifting Cassie.

“Are you going to help me turn her?” Sofía snaps.

“I really don’t think we should move her,” one doctor says.

The other agrees. “I think we’ve had a little more training than you.”