open, swabbing Ivan’s chest, noting the enlarged veins in his neck, how the left side of his chest wasn’t responding even when he managed to take a breath.
Air would be being sucked out into the chest wall, building, building, so the lungs could no longer expand, so no more air could get in. He was hardly breathing at all, just sharp, tiny gasps that did nothing to alleviate the blue of his lips and the terror in his eyes.
They had to get the pressure off.
She pulled her hand away, leaving the path clear for Dom-but suddenly the cannula was in her hand.
‘You’re the emergency specialist,’ Dom snapped. ‘You go in.’
She didn’t argue. At one level she appreciated Dom’s hardheadedness. That morning he’d objected when she’d taken over his patient-and so he should. But now he was deferring to her specialist training, ego aside.
He was already moving on, fitting an oxygen mask, leaving her to what she had to do.
She positioned the needle with care but with speed, then pushed in with force. Deep within the chest.
Over the top of the sixth rib, in line with the axilla, into the thoracic cavity.
The air hissed out like a burst of steam under pressure.
She’d done this once before and then it had been too late. Please…
It wasn’t too late now. Ivan’s next breaths, miraculously, were slower, and his chest rose and fell. Rose and fell.
They’d done it.
Dom had fitted an oxygen mask over Ivan’s face. The man’s colour was improving already.
Blessed be Dom’s medical kit, Erin thought again, thankfully. He had four oxygen cylinders. Four!
‘You’ll have to restock oxygen before your football team goes diving again,’ she whispered, allowing herself a tiny release from tension as Ivan took another breath that actually worked, letting air into his chest and making his chest wall rise and fall almost normally.
They needed to get him to hospital, fast. He needed a chest tube and an underwater seal fitted until his lung had a chance to heal, but with the pressure off, the other lung could work and he should survive.
And they were no longer alone. There were suddenly vehicles everywhere. The cavalry had arrived-in force.
‘Hey,’ Dom said in a voice that was suddenly a bit unsteady. His hand was on Ivan’s shoulder. His words might be for him but he was looking at Erin. ‘We’ve done it. Well done. Ivan, you’re going to be okay, mate. We’ve sucked a ruddy great air pocket out of your chest. Or rather Doc Erin has. We’re bloody lucky to have her.’
And then, as Erin’s eyes filled unaccountably with tears, he went on to answer the unspoken questions in Ivan’s eyes. ‘Sharon and the kids are going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.’
Erin left him to it. She stumbled-her legs unaccountably weren’t working properly-over to the verge to do the same thing for Sharon.
‘Your husband and your kids will live.’
It could have been so much worse.
‘Where’s the driver of the kombi?’ someone demanded.
It was Graham-of course. He was wearing-of all things-a kilt. Later she’d discover that the local Highland band had been practicing. Everyone round them was wearing kilts. Her sense of unreality deepened. A nightmare, with kilts.
‘I couldn’t find him,’ Frank said. The farmer was still seated on the verge, one arm full of the little girl, the other holding the little boy’s mask in place. Erin put a hand on the little girl’s neck and felt her pulse. It was strong and steady.
‘I reckon she’s gone to sleep, Doc,’ Frank said, and Erin smiled-her first real smile for the evening. She left the little girl and turned her attention to Sharon’s leg. This would heal, she thought.
But Dom wasn’t relaxing. He was staring around, focusing on Graham’s question. ‘The kombi driver…Where the hell…?’
‘He wasn’t here when I got here, Doc,’ Frank said. ‘Swear to God. I heard the smash from the dairy. I was only a couple of minutes away but he was gone.’
The cab of the kombi was almost intact. Empty. Had he been thrown? Or…
‘I need to go,’ Dom said, urgently, as the scream of an approaching ambulance cut the night. ‘Erin, can you take over here? They’ll all have to be taken to Campbelltown or air ambulanced to Melbourne. I’ll leave that call to you. But everyone’s stablised.’
‘What’s wrong?’
He closed his eyes, briefly. She reached instinctively for his hand and he held it, hard. Only for a fraction of a second, though, as if needing strength before moving on.
‘I think this is Nathan’s dad’s van,’ he told her. ‘I have to go.’
There were two ambulances. The paramedics were competent officers accustomed to dealing with emergencies a long way from the city. Dom and Erin had done the hard stuff. They moved in, setting up drips, stemming bleeding, moving parents and children into the two vehicles, making sure they were stabilised.
Erin helped transfer them but they didn’t need her to go with them. She watched them leave, feeling ill, shattered at how fast an evening drive could come so close to tragedy. But…where was Dom?
‘Is there any sign the driver of the kombi was hurt?’ she asked, and Graham shook his head.
‘We don’t think so. The cab’s intact and there’s no blood, nor is there any sign he’s been thrown clear. It doesn’t tell you for sure he wasn’t hurt but…’ He shrugged. ‘No matter. The police will find him.’
Her concern grew. She had time now to stop and think through Dom’s reaction when he’d realised who the driver of the kombi was. She’d been caught up, focusing on Sharon’s leg when Dom had told her. Now she replayed his words-and remembered fear.
Why?
The man was a drug addict. Unpredictable. Unstable.
Nathan was afraid of him.
Unbidden, Dom’s words came back to her. ‘I take kids where there’s a problem-a reason they need closer supervision than foster-parents can give.’
Problems like Martin’s mother, intent on harm. Nathan’s father, arriving on Friday looking ready to do violence. Back here today. Why?
She stood and surveyed the whole crash scene in its entirety.
‘What do you reckon happened?’ she asked Graham, who looked like he was doing the same thing.
‘The cops have been looking at the tyre marks,’ Graham said. ‘It looks like the kombi driver was on the wrong side of the road. The cops are saying he didn’t even swerve. Ivan did all the work, trying to avoid him.’
‘Then the driver of the kombi…’ Her breath caught in fear. ‘Graham, can we leave others to finish here? I need to go back to Dom’s.’
She outlined her fears to Graham on the short drive, hoping she sounded worried for no reason, but Graham’s face confirmed what she was thinking.
‘He and Tansy take on the kids no one else will have,’ he said grimly. ‘Kids who’d otherwise go into juvenile detention, just to get the protection they need. But Dom can talk down the worst of them. I’ve seen him with a hopheaded father out of his brain with drugs and Dom just talked and talked, getting more and more boring till the guy’s eyes glazed over and the threat was past. Tansy, too.’
‘Tansy’s boring?’
‘She’s a ball-breaker,’ Graham said, and grinned. ‘I’d like to see any hophead get past our Tansy.’
It made her feel better-but not much. ‘Can we hurry?’
‘We’re already there,’ Graham said.
She was no longer listening. The moment the car stopped she was out, running toward the house, stumbling slightly in her stupid boots but still running.
He’d been there.
The front door was open. There was a hole smashed in the panelling. Splintered timber.
There were voices coming from the kitchen. Dom. Charles.
She bucketed through.
Tansy was sitting in front of the fire. There was blood spattered down the front of her gorgeous shawl. Charles was bathing her forehead, an expression on his face she’d never seen before.
