Rescue - By Anita Shreve Page 0,73

Rowan. The medic yells for the backboard. For the first time, Webster sees that Rowan is in her bra and underpants.

“For God’s sakes, Koenig, cover her.”

Koenig lays a warming blanket over her. Tommy is crying, his own briefs soaking wet. Webster twists his head to see a pair of medics from yet another rig performing CPR on another girl. Unresponsive. Her skin already going gray, even in the artificial light. A cop next to the medics is asking questions and taking names. Above them, under the full moon, the branches sway. The light plays with the dark water.

“Get this kid a blanket,” Webster yells, pointing at Tommy. “What happened?” he asks the boy.

“Rowan and Kerry were daring each other to climb onto the tree limb there, and another guy was egging them on.” Webster notices that Tommy doesn’t say the name. “Rowan had been drinking, and I was begging her not to go. I was actually holding her back. She shook me off and started climbing. I took off my clothes just in case. And then she fell, and she must have hit her head beneath the water, because I could see right away that something wasn’t right. I went in after her.”

“Who went in after the other girl?”

“The guy who was egging them on.”

“You brought Rowan to the edge. You did the CPR.”

Tommy nods.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Boy Scouts. Years ago.”

“The protocol has changed, but you probably saved her life,” Webster says.

Koenig is doing the sternal rub and getting nothing.

Rowan. Wake up, honey.

“Probie, call it in,” Koenig yells. “We’re going to need an airlift.”

“Seventeen-year-old unresponsive female needs airlift to Burlington,” the probie says into his radio. “Head trauma resulting from fall onto rocky ledge. Suspected fractured dislocated right shoulder. Pupils equal and reactive. ETOH. Respirations ten. BP one ten over sixty-four. Not responsive to pain. And we’ll need an ETA and rendezvous point for the airlift.”

The probie helps Koenig perform the logroll in order to put Rowan onto the backboard. Koenig attaches the orange head blocks at either side of her forehead and chin with Velcro. In the shiny blanket, she looks like a mummy from a strange world.

“We’re taking her to the track at the high school,” the probie says to Koenig. “The flight medics will prepare her for an airlift.”

Webster turns and vomits. He knows what an airlift means.

A cop takes his arm. “You OK?”

“I’m fine,” Webster says, standing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m riding with her,” he says to Koenig.

“I’m treating,” Koenig reminds him.

“Do another sternal.”

“She’s not responding.”

“Do it anyway.”

Koenig gives it everything he has.

“Was that a moan?” Webster asks.

“I didn’t hear a moan.”

Webster holds Rowan’s hand as the rig speeds to the high school, the building his daughter so recently left. He massages her fingers, then just holds her hand, as if it were a lifeline: she giving the life to him, because without her…

Webster feels Rowan’s hand stiffen just as she begins to seize. Webster has seen seizures dozens of times, but the adrenaline shoots through to his fingertips. Koenig is already at work. Two milligrams of Ativan IV to quell the seizure. Webster’s heart rate increases with Rowan’s shaking. A seizure is never a good sign.

Webster watches as the seizure subsides. The last thing a medic wants to do is to give an alcohol-depressed patient Ativan, but it has to be done. Webster and Koenig don’t say a word. Webster fingers the hair away from his daughter’s face.

He thinks about the procedures that await Rowan before the airlift. The Seven Ps. Prepare: get all the equipment ready, none of which Webster wants to think about. Preoxygenate for five minutes. Premedicate: 1.5 milligrams per kilogram of weight of lidocaine two minutes before intubation. Paralyze: the medics will paralyze Rowan for the duration of the trip to Burlington so that she won’t seize on them. The idea of his daughter being medically paralyzed makes Webster want to scream.

Pass the tube. Proof of placement. Postplacement care.

The fire department sent all of its engines to set up a landing zone. Webster squeezes Rowan’s hand. It’s good to talk to an unconscious patient. According to some, Rowan might be able to hear what’s happening around her even if she can’t respond.

“So, Rowan, honey,” Webster says. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re at the high school track so a helicopter can land. The helicopter is going to take you to a very good hospital in Burlington. In fact, it’s the university hospital. Ironic, huh? You’re