Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,10

the driver’s-side door. I shine the light through the window and can see a woman lying on her side. Her eyes are closed. Shit! I know enough that I shouldn’t try to move her. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and dial for help. It takes me three tries, as my hands are trembling and wet from the rain.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s been an accident,” I scream over the pounding rain. “I’m just off Anderson Drive, in Jackson’s curves.”

“Sir, are you hurt?”

“No, not me. I saw headlights, so I stopped. There’s a woman trapped.” I know I’m probably not making any sense, but my head is too jumbled. I need to help her.

“Stay with her, help is on the way. I have a team en route, less than five minutes out.”

“What can I do?” I plead with her.

I’m crushing the phone to my ear so I can hear her. The rain makes it an almost impossible feat. “Just hold tight, help is on the way. Do not try to move her unless you feel she’s in grave danger,” she yells over the line, cool as a fucking cucumber. I guess that’s why she’s in that position.

After what I’m sure is the longest five minutes of my entire life, I hear the sirens. “They’re here,” I tell the operator.

“Good, please remember to allow them to do their job.”

What the hell? Is this chick for real? “Got it,” I say and end the call. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I wave my arms in the air. “Over here!” I call out. The two paramedics carefully slide their way down the hill, carrying a board. Just as they reach me, a fire truck and a sheriff pull off to the side of the road. The cavalry has arrived.

Thank goodness. I hope this woman is okay.

“Sir, are you hurt?”

“No, I was driving by and saw the headlights. I’ve been here a little over five minutes. I didn’t touch the car, just shined my light through the window. The woman behind the wheel seems to be unconscious. From what I can tell, she’s the only passenger. I was afraid to move her or the car,” I ramble over the roar of the rain, still falling in buckets from the sky.

“You did good,” he yells back.

I step back out of the way and let them go to work. My phone vibrates in my pocket.

Stephanie.

She’s just going to have to wait.

I stay rooted to the spot on the hillside just in case they need another hand. I watch as the firemen join us and survey the car, assessing the risk while they nod and use hand signals. They must say that all is safe, because they immediately get to work on trying to pry the door open. The paramedics are close by, waiting to get to their patient.

I don’t move a muscle; I stand in my spot, soaking wet and wait to see if she’s okay. I wish I could have done more. I make a vow to at least get my CPR certification. What could I have really done if she were awake, or if I had to try and drag her out of the car if there was more imminent danger?

My phone vibrates again, and I continue to ignore it.

My eyes are glued to the scene in front of me. I watch as the door—which will only open a fraction—is cut away from the car. The firemen are working carefully yet diligently. As soon as the door is removed, one of the men picks it up and throws it toward the rear of the car. I’m sure they’re operating on pure adrenaline; it’s their job to get to her as quickly as possible. You see this in the movies, hear about it on the news, but to be here and witness the determination and dedication these men and women have is awe-inspiring.

The paramedics swoop in and check on the driver. I see now that one of them is in the passenger seat. I guess that door opened just fine. Everyone works together assessing the situation. When they yell for the stretcher, my heartbeat accelerates. Is she going to be okay? Can they get her out? Do they have to cut her out? A million questions are running through my head, but I still keep my eyes glued to the car. To her. I need to see that she’s okay.

Minutes, hours—I’ve lost track of time. It’s not until I see them