Читать книгу First Responder On Call - Melinda Di Lorenzo - Страница 14

The sirens he’d been counting on and the flashing lights that accompanied them became secondary. Remo raced over the puddle-drenched ground, desperate to free the child from inside the trunk.

The trunk. What in God’s name was he doing in there?

He brushed off the question as secondary, too. Something he could deal with later. He reached the rear end of the car just as the first emergency vehicle arrived. Vaguely, he noted that it was an ambulance. A good thing, because he would likely know whoever rode in it.

He stared at the tiny hand for a tenth of a second before deciding two things. One, he shouldn’t wait for anyone else, and two, he shouldn’t try to go in through the trunk itself. He dropped to his knees, stuck his own hands into the crack and pulled. At first, he met with resistance. Then the seat groaned. It creaked. And finally, it cracked and sprung forward. Soaking wet pieces of fabric and shards of plastic flew out, and a chunk of foam smacked Remo directly in the forehead, then stuck there. He brushed it away, straightened his glasses, then bent down. His breath burned at what he saw.

The little boy was splayed out on his back, his legs spread wide, the one arm flung near Remo, the other tucked up on his chest. He had his thumb jammed in his mouth, which hung slightly ajar, and his eyes were wide-open.

For a moment, Remo feared the worst. Then the boy—Xavier, he reminded himself—blinked slowly. He pulled his thumb from between his lips and reached out his arms. The needy gesture tugged at Remo’s heart, and without thinking it through, he bypassed protocol. He leaned deep into the trunk, slipped his hand under the kid, then scooped the boy to his chest.

“You’re okay, Xavier,” he said gently. “I’ve got you, kiddo.”

He pushed to his feet, spun, and just about smacked straight into one of the first responders. He recognized him immediately—a senior EMT known for his by-the-book standards. Of all colleagues, this man was his least favorite. The one he’d least want to run into, even under normal circumstance.

He forced himself to back up and nodded an acknowledgment. “Isaac.”

The older man blinked. “Remo?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Lucky coincidence.”

Isaac glanced down at Xavier. “What are you doing now?”

“Saving this kid’s life.” His voice was embarrassingly thick with emotion.

“You moved him?”

“Had to.”

Isaac’s eyes went from the boy’s small body to a spot over Remo’s shoulder to the shattered vehicle. He opened his mouth. Before he could speak, though, a thunderous rattle came from all around. Something popped. And from the corner of his eye, Remo spotted the source.

The electrical pole.

A crack as wide as his arm split the damned thing down the middle. Its two pieces shuddered, then tilted. One went backward, but the other came forward, and as they watched, it fell fast and hard. Straight into the car.

Remo wished he could feel smug. Instead, he just felt relieved. Maybe a bit stunned. He swung back to Isaac, but the other man didn’t acknowledge the fortuitous result of his rule breaking.

“Guess you moved the woman, too?” he asked.

“She would’ve been electrocuted otherwise.”

“Fine. What’s done is done. I’ll get a gurney over here so you can put the kid down.”

Xavier buried himself in Remo’s chest, his small hands gripping his shirt tightly.

“I don’t need a gurney. I’ll hold him in the back.”

Isaac blinked. “What?”

Remo shook his head, not buying the ignorant act for a second. “You heard me.”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “You want to keep ignoring protocol?”

“Done it twice in the last twenty minutes. Saved a woman and a kid. Think I’ll stick to my own rules for just a little while longer.”

“I’ll have to put it in the report.”

“Go for it.”

Isaac’s expression didn’t change, but the tightness in his jaw told Remo he was annoyed. The irritation rolled off him, and the seconds ticked by with neither of them backing down. Finally, the second EMT—a younger, part-time kid named Tyler—called out, breaking the tension that radiated through the air.

“Isaac! Need a hand over here, please!”

The older man twitched, then spun to offer his assistance. Remo didn’t bother to gloat. All he cared about was keeping his promise to Celia and making the kid feel safe. He stepped over to the ambulance, murmuring that Xavier’s mom would be fine, and explaining that he’d made sure himself that she’d be safe.

“It might be a little scary in the ambulance,” he said, “but it’s just science, and there’s nothing really scary about that, right?”

For the first time, Xavier pulled back and looked up into Remo’s face. His eyes were the same unusual shade of gray as Celia’s, and he had a smattering of freckles that matched hers, too. There was no doubt that the kid was her son.

“Science?” he repeated in a small, curious voice.

“Science,” Remo confirmed. “Do you like science?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too. Do you want me to take you inside so you can see?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. Let’s get in before they bring your mom around, okay?”

Xavier nodded, and Remo used his height—six foot four, and sometimes an inconvenience but right that second an advantage—to propel them up together.

“One,” he grunted. “Two.”

“Three!” added the little boy, quiet, but almost gleeful, too.

“Wow.” Remo put some extra awe into the exclamation.

“What?”

“You can count.”

“Yeah.”

“I dunno. Are you old enough to count?”

“I’m five!”

Remo suppressed a chuckle and let out a whistle instead. “Holy cow.”

“How old are you?” the boy asked.

“Old.”

“That’s not a number.”

“Maybe I’m so old that I don’t remember.”

“A hundred?”

“Hey, now. Do I look like I’m a hundred?”

Xavier leaned back and studied Remo’s face like he really had to think about it. “I dunno.”

Remo suppressed a grin. “Is my hair gray? Or falling out?”

“No.”

“Is my face wrinkly?”

The kid lifted a hand and pressed a finger to Remo’s forehead. “A little right here. The same kind of wrinkly my mom gets when she worries about me.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a worrier myself.”

“Do you have a boy like me at home, too?”

“’Fraid not.”

“How come?”

“Well. For starters, I don’t have a wife.”

“My mom doesn’t have a husband.”

Remo couldn’t quite block out a trickle of interest at the statement. “No?”

Xavier shook his head. “My dad isn’t in the picture.”

It had the ring of something oft-repeated, and this time, Remo couldn’t stop a smile. “Well. I guess that makes you the man of the house, hmm?”

“That’s what my mom says, too.”

“Glad she and I agree.”

The little boy’s gaze flicked toward the open doors at the back of the ambulance. “Is she okay?”

Remo considered the question and how to answer it. Over the course of his career, he’d learned more than a bit about how to read people. Some wanted a gloss-over. Others wanted the worst case scenario presented in black-and-white. A kid, though, was a bit of a curveball. Protectiveness was a reflex, spurred on by the solemn, needy gaze zeroed in on him. No dad in the picture. Celia could be all the boy had. But Remo’s own history made it hard to tell a lie. The kid didn’t deserve it. Especially not if things took a bad turn.

So he chose his words carefully. “She could be hurt, buddy. Car accidents are tricky. But those guys out there are experts. Do you know what that means?”

“Kinda.”

“Well, just in case, I’ll tell you, all right? It means they have lots of training for emergencies just like this one. They’re going to check her over really well before they load her up in here. Then they’re going to take her to the hospital, where they’ll check her over even more.”

“Can I watch?”

“At the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably not, kiddo. The doctors like to keep things pretty private while they’re doing their job. And the hospital’s like school—it’s full of rules and bossy grown-ups.”

Xavier’s face fell. “Oh.”

Remo gave his shoulder a squeeze. “But hey. There’s always pudding to sneak. And when they’re done, I’ll make sure you’re the first one to see your mom.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Sure I will. Unless you’d rather call someone else. Grandma, or a babysitter or something?”

The kid shook his head. “I’d rather be with you.”

“Then it’s settled. You and I will steal pudding, eat it until we feel sick, then check in on your mom.”

“My mom says stealing is wrong.”

A chuckle escaped. “All right then. We’ll ask the nurses if we can have some, and if they say yes then we’ll eat it.”

A smile cracked Xavier’s face. “I like chocolate best.”

“Me, too.”

“I think they’re bringing my mom in now.”

Remo turned his eyes to the door. Sure enough, Isaac and Tyler had the blonde woman on the stretcher, which they were wheeling closer.

“You good in there, Remo?” called the younger EMT.

“Yep. We’re ready for you.”

“All right. Up we come.”

With another reassuring squeeze, he tucked the kid in a little closer and gave his colleagues room to climb in.

* * *

Because of the ring, Celia was sure she was in a dream. It sat on her index finger, catching the light and sparkling in an unnatural way, especially considering all the darkness around her. But it wasn’t the unusual contrast that made her so sure. It was the fact that the ring was her own personal trick. Something she’d learned in therapy. A lucid-dream tool. She could see it. Feel it. And use it to protect herself from the onslaught of seemingly endless nightmares.

When the counselor had first introduced the idea—a subtle implant in the back of her mind—Celia hadn’t bought the idea that it would work. In fact, she’d assumed it wouldn’t. But on the third night after the initial subliminal suggestion had been given, she’d been tossed into the throes of the familiar, terrifying dream.

It was the same as always. The pause before she realized she had to run. Then her feet hitting the floor of the long, pitch-black corridor. Dread not just pooling in her gut, but overwhelming it and making her heart thunder so hard against her rib cage that it felt bruised. And of course, the fear was warranted. Because next came the furious growl from behind her. The bellowing of her name and the warning that she wouldn’t make it out alive. She didn’t have a name for who chased her—half man, half monster maybe. All she had was the belief that she would never break free. So she ran harder. But the effort lasted only a few seconds before she had no choice but to slow down. Under her aching ribs was something that forced her legs to cease their pumping. Something huge and cumbersome—an undeniably pregnant belly. Which startled her into stumbling and brought the man-monster so close that his self-satisfied laugh cast a breath over the back of her neck.

But on that day...she’d known it wasn’t real. And while she couldn’t force herself into consciousness, the knowledge made the experience just palatable enough. It would end. She would wake. Life would go on.

Just like it would at that moment.

So in her present-day dream, Celia lifted her hand for a second to stare down at the shimmering stone and glittering gold. She acknowledged it with a resigned nod, then moved on. And it happened. The run. The never-ending hallway. The man, the baby, and the laugh. But strangely, it didn’t end in the same way it always had. Instead of the sheer terror and the awareness that her time was up Celia normally experienced, a light appeared. And the light became a door.

Startled, Celia blinked at the newly added element. Then the chill-inducing laugh came again, and she realized that she might—for the first time ever—be able to escape it. As a contraction clutched at her abdomen, she stepped forward. The movement somehow brought the door closer to her, rather than the other way around. But she didn’t stop to question the phenomenon. She simply took advantage. She reached out her fingers, grasped the handle, turned it, and flung the door open.

On the other side was a man. He had dark hair and kind eyes. And he was beckoning to her, his palm turned up and his fingers crooked.

Celia didn’t even hesitate. Squeezing her eyes shut, she dived forward, swollen stomach and all, and let the strange man enfold her in a protective embrace. Behind her, the door slammed. She inhaled. His scent filled her nose. Clean and fresh, with no hint of cologne or aftershave. The smell was so real—so distinct—that Celia felt compelled to check again for the ring. And it was there.

But when she opened her eyes, her senses were assaulted by something else entirely.

Voices, churning all around her. Frantic, mechanical blinking. Over all that, the wail of a siren. And under it, a pervading disorientation and feeling of separation from reality.

“What...” The word came out as a cracked whisper, and she knew it couldn’t possibly be heard. She swallowed and tried again, willing her voice to be stronger. “What’s happening?”

A hand found hers. It wasn’t a grip she was acquainted with, but it was warm and strong and reassuring, and Celia clutched at it, glad for its solidity. For a blissful second she felt safe. And though she couldn’t pinpoint why, she was sure it was actually the safest she’d felt in a long time. Then an odd thing happened. There was a shift—like the person was adjusting to a better position—and a face came into view.

It’s him.

And it was him. The man from her dream. Only real. Celia was certain, because their clasped hands would’ve driven the ring into her palm.

She stared up at him, held transfixed by the incredible blueness of his eyes. They were azure. Stunning. And though Celia didn’t think she knew the man, there was still something familiar about his stare. She was so enraptured by his look that Celia nearly missed the fact that his mouth was moving.

She tried to focus on what he was saying, but it seemed to be a mumble of medical jargon. It distracted her.

Was the man a doctor? Was he her doctor? Was she hurt or sick?

Of course you’re hurt or sick, said a voice in her head. If you weren’t hurt or sick, you wouldn’t be in this ambulance.

The thought jerked her attention away from the man’s blue, blue eyes, and her gaze swept back and forth. It was true. There was a narrow strip of light on the metal roof, bright red medical bags and a variety of equipment hanging from the sides. She could feel a thin mattress under her back. An IV line ran directly into the hand not held by the stranger. And when she tipped her head back a little, she also saw a blue-clad leg that she was sure belonged to a paramedic.

But...why?

She swallowed. She had no idea how she’d gotten into the back of the ambulance. And now that she was thinking about it, she realized she couldn’t remember much of anything at all. Not what she was doing before she got to the spot where she was now. Not where she lived, or what she did for a living. She closed her eyes, trying to grasp at something from her past. Anything, really. But it seemed just out of reach.

It was so frustrating. So frightening. And Celia felt a need to do something about it.

She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. Her head spun. Badly. And the blue-eyed man’s palm slid from her hand to her shoulder, and his voice filled her ear.

“You have to lie back down,” he said gently.

For no good reason she could think of, Celia fought against the soft suggestion.

“Let me go,” she said. “I have to...”

Have to what? Oh, God. Why can’t I remember?

Her heart thudded even faster, and one of the machines in the ambulance chimed an alarm. Celia squeezed her eyes shut again and willed her pulse to slow. She had questions, and if she wanted answers, she needed to be calm. She needed calmness around her so that the blue-eyed man—another paramedic, maybe?—would answer them. She breathed out, counted to ten, then opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with that azure gaze again.

“Celia.”

He knows my name.

And it was good. It brought a very small, very recent memory to the surface. Him, holding her library card—with its distinct logo—in his hands. Her, not even knowing who she was until that moment. The wave of gratitude tempered her panic, but only momentarily. Because it no sooner washed over her than a tiny, worried voice cut through all of it, and it was the most familiar thing she’d heard, seen, or felt in what seemed like a decade.

“Mommy?”

Xavier.

She knew little else, but she knew her son. Five years old. Freckled face. Too much intense seriousness for such a little person. She loved to make him laugh. Loved it when he let go of that little frown of his and giggled so hard that he said his tummy hurt.

Celia dragged her eyes open and sought him out. There he was, his small frame tucked against the big one that belonged to the blue-eyed man. How she hadn’t noticed him first—or even sensed his presence—was beyond her. He looked scared. But undeniably safe.

And I have to keep him that way. I have to keep protecting him.

She didn’t know where the thoughts came from, but they were accompanied by another, dizzying rush of blood. It thumped through her body, up through her chest, and straight to her head. It wasn’t just fear; it was absolute terror.

The world swam. Celia desperately wanted to say something to her son. To reassure him that everything would be fine. But her mouth didn’t seem to be in a cooperative mood. And worse than that, her mind was slipping again, headed straight back toward the oblivion it’d just barely crawled out of before.

She blinked, trying to clear away the impinging blackness. It was impossible. But as she faded even further, she made a last-ditch effort to communicate by sending the blue-eyed man a look. A plea. And for a moment, she thought she failed. The man said something else—more indecipherable medical stuff. But then turned his attention to her son. And even though she couldn’t hear his words, Celia was sure that they were the right ones. Xavier’s eyes cleared. His tense little body relaxed. And then there was nothing.