Read Online To Hell in a Handbasket by Beth Groundwater - Free Book Online Page B

would remain unconscious.
    Gently, Claire pulled away one side of his open jacket to examine his torso, which had borne the brunt of the initial impact. Blood soaked his T-shirt. Not good.
    She ran her trembling gloved hands along his scalp and behind his neck, being careful not to move his head. Her gloves came away blood free. At least he didn’t have an open head wound.
    â€œHere.” Judy held out his hat. She must have recovered it from the street.
    â€œGood thinking, honey.” Claire grabbed the hat and perched it gently on top of his head to keep him warm.
    Step three. Call. She heard Roger giving directions on the phone . Good. “Tell them he’s breathing, but unconscious and bleeding from multiple injuries.”
    Roger relayed the information.
    Step four. Care. What the hell can I do? His life is pouring out of him onto the ground. Claire rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand and took a deep breath. Focus. You can do something. Must try to stop the bleeding. Claire’s gaze lit on the young woman at the side of the road, still wringing her apron. “Get some towels, cloths, whatever you have that I can use to stop the bleeding.”
    As the young woman ran to the crepe stand, Claire said to Judy, “Go with her. Bring back whatever you find.”
    Claire shucked her jacket and laid it on Boyd’s chest. She had to keep him as warm as possible, or he would go into shock. She looked up at Roger. “Give me your coat.”
    He took it off and handed it to her, then returned the phone to his ear.
    She placed Roger’s coat on Boyd’s legs. Gingerly, to avoid jostling his pelvis, she slid one side of the coat under his lower legs to protect them from the cold ground. Boyd’s own coat would provide a layer of protection for his back.
    Judy and the crepe worker returned with arms full of towels and paper napkins. Judy dropped to her knees next to her mother.
    Claire lifted her coat and Boyd’s T-shirt. A jagged red cut slashed across half his stomach.
    Oh, God. Claire’s stomach lurched. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and willed it back down to where it belonged.
    Judy sucked in a breath and turned away.
    The crepe worker dumped her armload of towels and stepped back, eyes wide with horror.
    Claire knew the young woman would bolt if she let her. She stared down the crepe worker and forced her voice to be stern. “Don’t leave. I need your apron.”
    Slowly, the young woman moved her hands behind her back to untie the strings.
    Claire pulled a towel from Judy’s pile, folded it, and pressed it on the wound. She peered at Judy. “Another one.”
    Keeping her gaze averted from Boyd, Judy folded a towel and handed it to Claire.
    Good girl, you’re hanging in there. Claire slipped the second towel over the first, now blood-soaked, towel and pressed her gloved hand down again. “Now the apron.”
    Judy reached up for the apron held out by the crepe worker and tried to hand it to Claire.
    Claire shook her head. “No, you have to slide it under his back, without moving him at all, so we can tie it around his stomach and keep pressure on this wound.”
    When Judy hesitated, Claire said firmly, “Now.”
    With trembling hands, Judy slid one side of the apron under the hollow of Boyd’s lower back and gently pulled from the other side to bring it up and around.
    â€œNow tie it tight. I’ll slide my hand out of the way.”
    Judy did as she was told.
    â€œGood job, honey.” Claire turned her attention to Boyd’s pelvis. It didn’t seem to be bleeding as badly as the cut on his stomach, and pressing on the broken bones might make things worse.
    The siren of an approaching ambulance interrupted her thoughts. Thank God. No more decisions.
    Two emergency medical technicians ran over with a stretcher. As they hooked up a heart-rate monitor, IV, and oxygen to Boyd, Claire briefed them on what she had