“Come here,” she says, and pulls him forward.
She’s on the old trail again. Her feet dig easily into the snowy earth, but she almost trips on a bank of snow when she catches sight of Jay, curled in half and throwing up the contents of his stomach several feet away from where Colin’s body lies.
Colin’s lips are blue, and when she gets closer, she can see that his eyes are open, but hollow and staring straight up at the heavy gray sky. His chest rises and falls in shallow pants, but when he hears her feet crunching across the ice, he turns his head to her and tries to smile. His breathing grows more ragged; his eyes roll closed.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Jay screams, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and stumbling to Colin, shoving Lucy out of the way. “I just got him back, Lucy. Stay away from him!”
Jay’s eyes are squeezed shut. He refuses to look at her. “What happened, Jay? Why is he so bad?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he mumbles. “It’s not working.” Still, he keeps his eyes down, frantically shoving hand warmers under the blankets and against Colin’s cold skin.
Dread trickles along her arms. “Are you afraid of me?” “When he comes back, you look f**king terrifying,” he says, voice shaking in the cold. He points without looking. “Grab that bag; it has gloves.”
She walks to the bag numbly, Jay’s words echoing over and over. He’s said it before: When he comes back, you look terrifying.
It’s the same reaction Joe had when he fell through his porch. He told Colin she looked like a demon. Lucy feels the high of her time with Colin underwater begin to evaporate.
“Here,” she says, carefully handing Jay the gloves. “What can I do? Is he going to be okay?” Her voice is so flat, sounds so indifferent. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to get rid of the image of Colin in front of her, smiling up into the sun right before he slipped away.
“He’s been under for more than an hour, Lucy! He’s nonresponsive with a pulse of thirty. Thirty! His normal resting pulse is sixty-four. Do you even know what that means? He might die!”
“Just let me closer; he’ll be better when I’m there.” She’s so sure of it that at first she doesn’t register that when she puts her hand on his arm, the small monitor at his side lets out a steady, flat beep.
“Lucy!” Jay gasps, pulling at her arm and staring where his hand wraps firmly around her flesh. “Go away. Go away. Go away,” he whispers over and over. She realizes she was completely wrong when she assumed a silent Jay is a panicked Jay. This Jay is panicked, and he’s unable to stop whispering to himself. He’s a rubber band pulled taut, about to snap.
“Let’s get him to the dorm,” she says. “I think I can help you carry him. I feel so strong.”
“No. Don’t touch him again. I don’t think you’re helping.”
“Of course I’m helping. Jay, we have to get him out of here. You can’t carry him alone!”
Sirens wail in the distance, and Jay meets her eyes, apology and fear and anger and fresh tears brimming inside. “I called nine-one-one. I didn’t know what else to do.”
The ambulance crunches along the trail, coming to a skidding stop. Paramedics burst from every door, rushing to Colin’s body, pulling away the blankets and heat pads, checking his vitals. They wrap him in some type of bag and pepper Jay with questions. How did he go in? How long was he under? Has he said anything? Jay answers, wooden. No one even looks at Lucy.
She watches as the two men lift Colin onto a stretcher. His hand reaches out weakly, and she waves.
“I’ll meet you there.” Somehow, she thinks. Her thoughts grow panicked and jumbled as the ambulance starts up, beeping loudly in the echoing quiet of the lake as it backs down the trail. How can she possibly follow him?
She runs toward the school, and in the distance, sees Joe and Dot begin jogging to the parking lot. Brake lights flash on a shiny blue pickup truck as Joe unlocks the doors with a remote.
Without thinking, Lucy sprints to the truck, crouching behind the back gate. Just as the two passengers shut their doors, Lucy throws her body over the side, into the open bed.
Gravel spits up behind them as they peel out of the lot, chasing the ambulance down the dirt road leading out of the school.
It’s only when they pass through the iron gates that Lucy realizes she hasn’t been bounced back to the trail. Ahead of them, the ambulance wails down the two-lane highway.
But why now? What’s changed? She looks up to the flashing lights down the road, to where her heart lies, strapped into the back of an ambulance. Where you go, I go, she thinks.
Always.
“Eighteen-year-old male, severe hypothermia. BP ninety over fifty-four. Current temp is ninety-four point eight, respiratory rate fourteen. Lactated ringers pushed at one hundred fifty milliliters an hour. EKG stable with normal sinus rhythm. Chest X ray results are here for your review. Blood work was sent to the lab for stat processing.”
Lucy pushes her way into the corner about ten feet from where a physician is looking down at Colin’s chart while one of the paramedic ticks off the vitals. Lucy has managed to walk into the triage area without anyone saying a single word to her.
The attending physician listens to the account of the scene: The kids were playing on the lake, Colin went in, they had equipment to revive him, and it seemed intentional.
“Isn’t this the kid they were talking about on the news? Around Christmas?”
“Colin Novak. From Saint O’s.”
“Yeah.” The doctor gently pushes hair off of Colin’s forehead. “That’s him.”
Lucy turns as they wheel him away and through two wide doors. She wanders the halls until she can’t take the beeping and antiseptic smell and chatting nurses. She’s glad for them that the stress of the ER becomes as tolerable as with any other job, but their conversation about the recently passed Valentine’s day is too far removed from the updates on Colin she wants to be hearing. She wants news about him blared through the intercom.
She wishes she were a ghost like on television, only as solid as a hologram. She’d be able to walk through walls and into any room, peek her head through and watch the color return to Colin’s skin.
On her seventh circuit of the halls, she peers into the family waiting room. Jay is gone, but Dot remains and stares, unseeing, out of a large window that overlooks the parking lot. There’s no one here to comfort her, and there’s no one here to comfort Lucy. She steps into the dark, silent room, ready to share her loneliness.
Dot is so lost in her misery that she doesn’t even look up when Lucy walks in. She simply stares down at the book she clearly isn’t even reading. Lucy wants to talk to her, to explain what happened and assure her that Colin is okay and they’ve almost got this whole mystery figured out, but the words turn into dust in her throat. Instead, she sits down on a couch in a dark corner and waits.
Over the next twenty minutes Dot asks the receptionist to let her see Colin four times, paces the room seven times, sits and stares at her book the rest of the time, but never once does she turn the page.
Dot is tall —some might even describe her as formidable—with surprisingly young skin and hair that has been left alone; silver dominates the deep brown. It’s bundled back in a messy ponytail, exposing her large blue eyes. Even with her striking physical presence, Lucy can tell Dot feels small. Helpless. She’s a mass of constant movement and anxiety.
And then Dot stills. Her hands freeze midway up her thigh as she’s rubbing them worriedly, and she turns to look at Lucy. To her horror, in Dot’s face Lucy sees a mixture of understanding and fear.
“I remember you, you know.” Her soft voice carries a bite of accusation. “You’re the girl I saw in the dining room, covered in dirt.” She lifts a shaking hand and pushes a loose thread of hair behind her ear. “But I remember you from before that too.”
Lucy feels the layers to the statement and looks away before nodding, unable to face the worry and accusation she can see in every line of Dot’s expression.
Many minutes pass before Dot speaks again. “Say your name.”
She’s on the old trail again. Her feet dig easily into the snowy earth, but she almost trips on a bank of snow when she catches sight of Jay, curled in half and throwing up the contents of his stomach several feet away from where Colin’s body lies.
Colin’s lips are blue, and when she gets closer, she can see that his eyes are open, but hollow and staring straight up at the heavy gray sky. His chest rises and falls in shallow pants, but when he hears her feet crunching across the ice, he turns his head to her and tries to smile. His breathing grows more ragged; his eyes roll closed.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Jay screams, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and stumbling to Colin, shoving Lucy out of the way. “I just got him back, Lucy. Stay away from him!”
Jay’s eyes are squeezed shut. He refuses to look at her. “What happened, Jay? Why is he so bad?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he mumbles. “It’s not working.” Still, he keeps his eyes down, frantically shoving hand warmers under the blankets and against Colin’s cold skin.
Dread trickles along her arms. “Are you afraid of me?” “When he comes back, you look f**king terrifying,” he says, voice shaking in the cold. He points without looking. “Grab that bag; it has gloves.”
She walks to the bag numbly, Jay’s words echoing over and over. He’s said it before: When he comes back, you look terrifying.
It’s the same reaction Joe had when he fell through his porch. He told Colin she looked like a demon. Lucy feels the high of her time with Colin underwater begin to evaporate.
“Here,” she says, carefully handing Jay the gloves. “What can I do? Is he going to be okay?” Her voice is so flat, sounds so indifferent. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to get rid of the image of Colin in front of her, smiling up into the sun right before he slipped away.
“He’s been under for more than an hour, Lucy! He’s nonresponsive with a pulse of thirty. Thirty! His normal resting pulse is sixty-four. Do you even know what that means? He might die!”
“Just let me closer; he’ll be better when I’m there.” She’s so sure of it that at first she doesn’t register that when she puts her hand on his arm, the small monitor at his side lets out a steady, flat beep.
“Lucy!” Jay gasps, pulling at her arm and staring where his hand wraps firmly around her flesh. “Go away. Go away. Go away,” he whispers over and over. She realizes she was completely wrong when she assumed a silent Jay is a panicked Jay. This Jay is panicked, and he’s unable to stop whispering to himself. He’s a rubber band pulled taut, about to snap.
“Let’s get him to the dorm,” she says. “I think I can help you carry him. I feel so strong.”
“No. Don’t touch him again. I don’t think you’re helping.”
“Of course I’m helping. Jay, we have to get him out of here. You can’t carry him alone!”
Sirens wail in the distance, and Jay meets her eyes, apology and fear and anger and fresh tears brimming inside. “I called nine-one-one. I didn’t know what else to do.”
The ambulance crunches along the trail, coming to a skidding stop. Paramedics burst from every door, rushing to Colin’s body, pulling away the blankets and heat pads, checking his vitals. They wrap him in some type of bag and pepper Jay with questions. How did he go in? How long was he under? Has he said anything? Jay answers, wooden. No one even looks at Lucy.
She watches as the two men lift Colin onto a stretcher. His hand reaches out weakly, and she waves.
“I’ll meet you there.” Somehow, she thinks. Her thoughts grow panicked and jumbled as the ambulance starts up, beeping loudly in the echoing quiet of the lake as it backs down the trail. How can she possibly follow him?
She runs toward the school, and in the distance, sees Joe and Dot begin jogging to the parking lot. Brake lights flash on a shiny blue pickup truck as Joe unlocks the doors with a remote.
Without thinking, Lucy sprints to the truck, crouching behind the back gate. Just as the two passengers shut their doors, Lucy throws her body over the side, into the open bed.
Gravel spits up behind them as they peel out of the lot, chasing the ambulance down the dirt road leading out of the school.
It’s only when they pass through the iron gates that Lucy realizes she hasn’t been bounced back to the trail. Ahead of them, the ambulance wails down the two-lane highway.
But why now? What’s changed? She looks up to the flashing lights down the road, to where her heart lies, strapped into the back of an ambulance. Where you go, I go, she thinks.
Always.
“Eighteen-year-old male, severe hypothermia. BP ninety over fifty-four. Current temp is ninety-four point eight, respiratory rate fourteen. Lactated ringers pushed at one hundred fifty milliliters an hour. EKG stable with normal sinus rhythm. Chest X ray results are here for your review. Blood work was sent to the lab for stat processing.”
Lucy pushes her way into the corner about ten feet from where a physician is looking down at Colin’s chart while one of the paramedic ticks off the vitals. Lucy has managed to walk into the triage area without anyone saying a single word to her.
The attending physician listens to the account of the scene: The kids were playing on the lake, Colin went in, they had equipment to revive him, and it seemed intentional.
“Isn’t this the kid they were talking about on the news? Around Christmas?”
“Colin Novak. From Saint O’s.”
“Yeah.” The doctor gently pushes hair off of Colin’s forehead. “That’s him.”
Lucy turns as they wheel him away and through two wide doors. She wanders the halls until she can’t take the beeping and antiseptic smell and chatting nurses. She’s glad for them that the stress of the ER becomes as tolerable as with any other job, but their conversation about the recently passed Valentine’s day is too far removed from the updates on Colin she wants to be hearing. She wants news about him blared through the intercom.
She wishes she were a ghost like on television, only as solid as a hologram. She’d be able to walk through walls and into any room, peek her head through and watch the color return to Colin’s skin.
On her seventh circuit of the halls, she peers into the family waiting room. Jay is gone, but Dot remains and stares, unseeing, out of a large window that overlooks the parking lot. There’s no one here to comfort her, and there’s no one here to comfort Lucy. She steps into the dark, silent room, ready to share her loneliness.
Dot is so lost in her misery that she doesn’t even look up when Lucy walks in. She simply stares down at the book she clearly isn’t even reading. Lucy wants to talk to her, to explain what happened and assure her that Colin is okay and they’ve almost got this whole mystery figured out, but the words turn into dust in her throat. Instead, she sits down on a couch in a dark corner and waits.
Over the next twenty minutes Dot asks the receptionist to let her see Colin four times, paces the room seven times, sits and stares at her book the rest of the time, but never once does she turn the page.
Dot is tall —some might even describe her as formidable—with surprisingly young skin and hair that has been left alone; silver dominates the deep brown. It’s bundled back in a messy ponytail, exposing her large blue eyes. Even with her striking physical presence, Lucy can tell Dot feels small. Helpless. She’s a mass of constant movement and anxiety.
And then Dot stills. Her hands freeze midway up her thigh as she’s rubbing them worriedly, and she turns to look at Lucy. To her horror, in Dot’s face Lucy sees a mixture of understanding and fear.
“I remember you, you know.” Her soft voice carries a bite of accusation. “You’re the girl I saw in the dining room, covered in dirt.” She lifts a shaking hand and pushes a loose thread of hair behind her ear. “But I remember you from before that too.”
Lucy feels the layers to the statement and looks away before nodding, unable to face the worry and accusation she can see in every line of Dot’s expression.
Many minutes pass before Dot speaks again. “Say your name.”
