child’s doll was lying on the verge, looking like a small, dreadful corpse.
A guy in khaki overalls and boots bigger than Erin’s was holding a little girl in his arms. The child was sobbing uncontrollably, screaming for her mother.
‘That’s Frank, the farmer who called us,’ Dom said. ‘Hell, we’ll need some local help as well. Ring Graham.’
He hit the brakes and was out of the car, clicking onto a number and tossing her his phone before Erin could respond.
Okay. First things first, follow orders, but there was no way she was calmly sitting in the car making phone calls. She was out of the car as well, running toward the wreck as Dom hauled gear out of the trunk.
‘Car smash, two miles out of town past Dom’s place,’ she snapped as Graham answered. ‘Dom and I are here. We’ve called the ambulance but we need more help.’
‘I’ll have the boys there in minutes,’ Graham said, and Erin thought fleetingly, The man’s been up all night and here he was, helping out again. Local communities at their best. But then she stopped thinking. She was at the wreck now, and what she saw…
It was a family sedan. The van was higher than the sedan and the front of the sedan was wedged right under the van’s chassis.
Dom was already working. They only had access on the left side. The door of the car had been hauled open. Dom was half in, working on whoever was closest.
‘I got the little girl out ’cos she was screaming,’ Frank called hopelessly from behind them. ‘I don’t know what-’
‘Just take care of her,’ Dom called. ‘It’s okay. We’ll deal with this.’
It wasn’t okay.
The woman closest to them was in her thirties or early forties. She was staring straight ahead, whimpering in shock and fear.
‘Sharon, hey, it’s okay, let’s get you out,’ Dom said and she turned her face a little.
‘D-Dom.’
So Dom knew them. That made it…worse.
A vicious gash ran down the side of Sharon’s head from just above her ear. She had the look of someone just returning from unconsciousness, Erin thought. Dom was mopping blood from around her mouth. Erin reached through from the front and took her wrist. Her pulse was thready and her complexion was sickly blue.
‘Does it hurt to breathe?’ Dom asked.
‘N-No.’
They had to get her out to reach her partner. There was another child in the back seat.
So much blood. Far too much blood.
Erin wriggled in underneath Dom and slid her hands across the seat, feeling for any obstructions.
‘My hands are under her knees,’ Erin said curtly. ‘Seat belt undone?’
‘Yes.’
‘On count of three, lift.’
They lifted. Blessedly she came free.
They worked as if they’d been trained together. Dom must have done the same emergency training she’d done, Erin thought appreciatively. They had Sharon away from the wreck in seconds, carrying her over to the verge to where Frank still stood helplessly holding the child.
They laid her on the grass. Erin had been doing a lightning assessment as they’d moved her. The moment they had her down Dom was moving back to the wreck. Erin gave Sharon a moment more, checking vital signs.
Her airway was clear. The gash on her head was bleeding but not gushing. They had her on her side so the blood was no longer running down her face.
There were fractures, she thought, glancing at the woman’s leg, but she was breathing steadily and was conscious.
There was no time to check for more.
‘Stay with her,’ she said to Frank. ‘Sit down beside her with the little girl.’ She took Sharon’s hand. ‘Sharon, Dom and I need to get everyone else out of the car. Frank will look after you and your daughter.’
It was all she had time for. She was away, back to Dom.
Dom had the little boy out of the car before she reached him. One look at him and she knew there was urgent need, but Dom was tugging the little boy past her.
‘See to his dad,’ he snapped to her. ‘I have Max. His dad’s name is Ivan and he’s in trouble.’
So was the little boy. The child’s face was a mass of blood but Dom’s command had been urgent and unequivocal.
Ivan, the boy’s father, was crumpled against the far side of the car. The steering-wheel was crushed against his chest. Even from here she could see the effort it was for him to breathe. His breathing came as short sharp gasps. His hand was on his chest, and he looked frantic.
Triage.
‘No,’ she said, pulling back in fast decision. Ivan had to be pulled from the car before she could help him and it couldn’t be a lift. Because of the urgency it would have to be a messy pull, and she couldn’t do it. She lifted Max from Dom’s arms without waiting for him to respond. ‘Ivan can’t breathe and he needs your strength. Get him out of there. I’ll take over with Max. Breathing tubes?’
‘In the case.’
‘Thank God for that.’
The little boy’s breath was bubbling as if he was breathing underwater. Something had smashed into his face. With the amount of blood in his mouth and nose, he was likely to drown.
Moving fast, she laid him on the verge, close to his mother. His nose was broken, there were smashed teeth- the little boy would need reconstructive surgery. But that was for the future. For now all she could do was clear his mouth and throat, set him on his side, fit an oral airway and administer oxygen. Thank God for Dom’s equipment.
Thank God for Dom.
The little boy had gone past terror. He hadn’t enough strength left to fight her; he simply submitted.
‘You’ll be safe, Max,’ she told him. ‘You can breathe now, and I’m giving you something to stop it hurting. I’m popping a mask over your face to make it easier to breathe.’ She manoeuvred him so he was lying propped against his mother. Frank was still holding the little girl, looking more and more terrified by the minute.
Where on earth was help?
‘Can you set the little girl down on the grass?’ she said to Frank, and then to Sharon, ‘Can you please hold your daughter’s hand? I need Frank to hold Max’s mask in place.’ Then, as no one moved, she lifted the little girl bodily from Frank’s grasp and set her down by her mother. Then she grabbed Frank’s big, weather-beaten hands, tugged him down so he was forced to crouch, and forcibly put his hand over Max’s mask.
‘Hold that,’ she ordered. ‘Don’t any of you move. Frank, if that mask moves…if Max looks like he’s not getting enough air, if there’s anything that scares you, then you yell loud enough to wake the dead and I’ll be back. But Dom needs me.’
Dom did need her.
He had Ivan out of the car but Ivan’s breathing was so shallow it was barely there.
Erin took a moment to watch as Dom worked. Ivan’s chest was hardly moving-one side seemed totally still. Dom’s fingers were on his throat and he sent her a silent message with his eyes. She knew what it had to be. He’d have felt Ivan’s trachea, and found it pushed to one side.
This had to be a tension pneumothorax. The symptoms fitted. He’d have broken ribs and a puncture to his lung, so air was escaping from his lung into his chest every time he breathed. The air couldn’t be exhaled. The pressure would be enough to collapse both lungs.
Dominic had obviously already made the diagnosis. He was grabbing what he needed from his bag. He had a cannula between his teeth, still in its protective sterile casing, holding it while he ripped the side of Ivan’s shirt from neck to waist.
She grabbed a sterile swab from the bag. Dom looked like he’d been going in without-there was no time for niceties here when the only imperative was to save the man’s life. But she moved like lightning, hauling the swab
