by Mark Green
* *
I glanced around the empty streets as we trundled out of town. It was early, and we had a long journey ahead, but I felt much more comfortable this time around, despite our previous vow to fly out. Bozzer had been right, no planes left the previous day and although it wasn’t raining at the moment, the lady in the Amazonas office thought it would take two or three days to clear the backlog of stranded travellers.
My eyes rested on Angel and for the thousandth time I wished we could have the intimacy of eye contact, so that we could really know how we felt about each other. I found myself smiling as I recalled how she ended up with red hair, and how different she looked. But no less lovely.
I turned back to face out of the side window, but saw Madge looking at me - caught in the act. I smiled sheepishly and she winked at me. Was that a green light? Or was the wink just to encourage me not to do a runner now Angel was up the duff?
* *
Looking out of the window, through the rain, I was quite relieved Angel couldn’t see the state of the road, I’d forgotten how perilous the bus journey had been. The ‘road’, no more than a gravel track clinging to the side of spectacular jungle-clad mountains was notorious. Sheer drops without any crash barriers plunged away at almost every hairpin. Wreckage far below was worryingly frequent, perhaps I was more aware of our mortality now Angel was with child...
I flinched as a pick-up truck loomed from behind a blind corner. We crawled past at walking pace, wing mirror to wing mirror. My nerves were not handling this journey particularly well...
* *
Angel
Although quicker than the bus, it was still a long journey. We stopped a couple of times for food and loo breaks, but not for long. Our driver, Pedro, sounded like a young lad of maybe nineteen or twenty and he spoke pretty good English.
Conversation inside the jeep had died off an hour or so ago, as we’d exhausted all discussion about how we’d met our ‘other halves’ and where we were in life. Tiredness now took over and we sat in companionable silence.
* *
I asked JC what time it was and worked out we’d been on the road for just under nine hours, which meant we were well over half way. We were making good time according to the driver, who had his foot down all the way. Although driving fast and slightly erratically at times, I was assured that he was doing a good job of avoiding the traffic coming the other way. I had someone else to consider now. It’s a strange feeling when your sometimes reckless outlook on life is pulled up sharp.
I smiled to myself, instinctively rubbing my belly, worry and excitement creeping into my thoughts. Suddenly I felt the jeep swerve and jolt violently to the left, it bounced up, slamming back down on the gravel road, before sweeping hard right, careering out of control…
* *
JC
Jesus Christ!! We hit the verge then swerved to avoid an oncoming minibus. My face spun forwards as the packed bus filled the jeep’s windscreen. I barely had time to yell “HOLD ON!!!” before we smashed into the front quarter. Then we spun backwards into the steep verge, trees breaking as we rolled onto our side, part of the roof caving in, crashing to a stop.
* *
“Bloody hell, everyone all right?!” I shouted, my eyes darting around the inside of the jeep. Because I’d been stretched out across the bench seat I was fortunate to have landed on my feet when we’d tipped over. Adrenaline surged through my system, I had a few scratches but I was okay.
Angel!!
“Guys! Are you okay? Talk to me!” I shouted, climbing over my seat, finding Angel’s limp body pinning Madge to the side of the jeep.
“I’m alright mate, driver don’t look good, but I can see his chest moving. What about Madge?!” Bozzer shouted, scrabbling to release himself under the weight of the driver, who was slumped awkwardly across him.
“Madge! Talk to me!”
It was one of those moments of clarity where you slow yourself down and force yourself to think logically, desperately trying to set panic aside. Bozzer was talking, which meant for now he was okay.
“Bozzer, can you kick the windscreen out? If you can, get out and get the door above us open!”
“Madge!”
“Mate, get a grip! Your best chance of getting her out is to get yourself free first.”
I looked at him, shaking his head, his breathing all over the place. I realised shock was kicking in, sapping his energy. I turned back to the girls, weighing up the best way of getting to them, then shouted over my shoulder at Bozzer.
“Bozzer! Kick that bloody windscreen out! Get angry, hate it! Come on you worthless criminal descendant!”
BANG! BANG!
That did it, he was good and mad now. I climbed over the seat and took a look at the girls. Although I could smell petrol, there was no immediate danger, I prayed the rain would wash it away. I carefully ran my hands over each body, checking vital signs, feeling for damage. Were they still breathing? Broken bones? Bleeding?
Up front Bozzer was yelling all sorts of obscenities as he kicked the shit out of the glass, but it was working, he was nearly free. I stared down at Angel, my heart pounding, feeling myself start to lock up, shock hitting me hard.
“You trying to touch me up JC? Bit forward for a first date,” Angel mumbled, her eyelids flickering open as she came round.
“Jesus, don’t do that to me! Where does it hurt, can you move? Be careful of Madge…”
As far as I could tell she had no major injuries. There were cuts and grazes, but it was the baby I was most worried about, a reaction that surprised me. There was another crash up front and with a euphoric yell, Bozzer kicked the windscreen clear and scrabbled out onto the road.
“Must have cracked my head…” said Angel.
Together we untangled her from Madge, who was out cold. I heard Bozzer climbing over the jeep and saw his wild eyes appear at the side window above us. He crouched over the door and tried to heave it open.
“Fucking door’s jammed mate!” he shouted.
“Okay. Hang on a moment, let’s check Madge out first...”
“I’ll find a rock, smash the glass from the outside,” said Bozzer, glancing around, his face red with blood that was washing down his face with the pounding rain. He looked like something out of a horror film. By this time Angel had managed to turn and support herself and was slowly examining Madge by touch.
“She can’t be moved JC, not yet. She’s got some damage here, I can feel blood. I need time to examine her. And if we take her outside she’ll freeze in this rain.”
“Okay, we’ll clear the boot and get you some room to work,” I said, completely deferring to her knowledge. It didn’t even enter my head that I had to look out for her, her blindness was no longer an issue.
I heard Bozzer climb back onto the jeep and saw his rain and blood soaked wild-eyed face appear at the window above. He didn’t even shout out a warning, he was completely focused.
WHACK!
“Shut your eyes Angel!” I yelled as Bozzer smashed the rock down again, raining fragments of glass into the jeep. Then Bozzer's feet dropped in through the open window.
“Madge!”
Bozzer was all but elbowing me out of the way, but I grabbed him before he could move her.
“Mate, pass that luggage from the boot forwards to me, I’ll throw it through the window…”
“No! She’s coming out the window, we’ve gotta get her out…”
Bozzer tried to get to Madge again, so I increased my grip on him.
“Bozzer, listen to me. Think! We’re not on a cliff edge here, there is no immediate danger, but if we move her too soon we could do more damage. I know you don’t want her in a wheelchair so listen to me. Pass me the luggage, kick that back screen out so we can move her quickly and easily when we need to, but let Angel do her job — she’s a nurse, okay!”
Bozzer struggled to get free.
“She’s fucking blind!”
That was it. My own adrenaline pushe
d me over the edge. I clenched my fingers around his windpipe and squeezed hard, pulling his face close to mine.
“Listen you colonial fuckwit, THINK! Do you have any medical training? NO! We have a trained nurse here, she can tell us what to do. Give Madge a chance. Do your job and clear that luggage. NOW!”
I stared into his eyes, waiting until I saw the small nod of acknowledgement. I eased my grip and pushed him towards the boot.
“Let’s go! Chuck the bags back to me, we need to work together.”
Bozzer climbed over into the boot and started heaving bags to me, which I tossed out the open window above. If nothing else, distracting Bozzer allowed Angel the time to finish examining Madge unhindered. We cleared the last bag and Bozzer set to work kicking the rear windscreen out. I eased myself down to Angel.
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s damaged her pelvis, there’s bleeding from the side of her head and she has some sort of neck injury. Her airway was blocked, but she’s breathing on her own now. If we’re careful and we all support her we can lay her out. I need lots of clothing to make a bed.”
“Right. How you doing?”
“A few bumps, but okay. Poor Madge took the brunt of it.”
“Okay.”
I climbed over into the boot to help Bozzer.
“Ready? Together mate.”
We kicked the last of the glass out and I dragged Bozzer out onto the muddy road, rain lashing down, instantly soaking me.
“Mate, go through our bags, grab any clothing, make a bed for Madge. You heard Angel, she’s breathing on her own, she has a fighting chance. Okay?”
“Yeah, no problem, mate, I’m sorry I lost it back there…”
“That’s okay. Go!”
I ran back to the front of the jeep, pausing to glance back down the road where the minibus lay on its side. I could see movement, people were starting to climb out and in the distance headlights were approaching through the rain. I turned away and climbed through the open windscreen. Pedro was slumped down in the footwell, blood seeping from his face.
“How’s the driver?” said Angel, calm yet assertive.
“Not good, blood everywhere…”
“It always looks worse than it is. Find the source, get some pressure on it, and try not to move him in the process.”
“Okay,” I said, glancing back, pleased to see Bozzer’s legs running back and forth to the jeep as he lay out clothing in the boot. I looked back at the driver and shouted out to Bozzer.
“Mate, I need a tee shirt or something!”
I didn’t hear a reply, but in less than ten seconds Bozzer appeared, handing me two tee shirts, then disappeared again. I began mopping up the blood on the driver, searching for the source. He had a nasty gash from behind his ear to his forehead, but he was breathing. I folded along the length of the tee shirt and tied it around his forehead, tight enough to put pressure on the wound. I checked his body for other injuries. His arm seemed a bit banged up, but thankfully I found nothing else.
“Ready when you are JC,” said Angel.
Leaving Pedro for a moment, I dashed back to the boot, where Bozzer had finished laying out a bed of our clothing. Under Angel’s instructions, Bozzer and I positioned ourselves so we could hold Madge’s head and pelvis as we carefully eased her back into the boot and lay her out on her side on the bed of clothing. Angel checked her over as I tied clothing together to form a neck brace.
“Bozzer, she’s stable, breathing on her own, just unconscious. Stay here, support her neck. If she comes round don’t let her move. We need to check Pedro again. Was there another vehicle involved?” said Angel.
“Yes. Hundred yards back down the road,” I said.
“Okay. We need to help them too,” said Angel. I helped her to climb out into the rain, which seemed to be easing a bit.
“You’re doing a fantastic job Angel,” I said, squeezing her hand as I guided her fingers onto Pedro’s limp body.
“You too.”
I watched her check Pedro over, in awe of her skill. In a bizarre split second flashback, I wondered if the chance to regain some of her sight was really possible and not Pete’s I want you back bullshit.
“His arm’s broken, the one he’s lying on. Can you lift him while I hold his head? Let’s straighten his arm in a splint and then check out the minibus. Ready?”
We worked together, lifting and turning the driver who fortunately wasn’t too heavy. It was awkward to get the leverage in such a cramped space.
“We need a splint. A branch, something like that. And a strap from one of our rucksacks.”
I heard Angel call to Bozzer to check in with him too. I had a quick scout around outside, found what I needed and returned to the jeep. I helped Angel patch up Pedro, then we left the jeep. Angel gave Bozzer strict instructions not to let anyone move Madge.
“Thanks. Sorry I insulted you…” Bozzer called out as we left the jeep.
Angel and I ran hand in hand as fast as our bruised bones would allow towards the crumpled minibus.
* *
Angel
They say it’s like riding a bike, you never forget your medical training. Only this time I didn’t have my own visual assessment, I had to rely on JC’s observations and answers to my questions. We worked together at the minibus, assisting and instructing the local helpers with my medical knowledge, helped by JC’s hand signals and our pigeon Spanish.
I’ve no idea how long we worked for, stabilising, bandaging, trying to help these poor victims, but it must have been several hours. We kept running back to the jeep every twenty minutes or so, checking in on Madge and the driver. By the time help finally arrived, we were completely exhausted. But of course this being Bolivia, help didn’t come in the form of half a dozen fire engines, ambulances and police. It was all very basic.
Apparently car and truck wrecks littered the side of the road between La Paz and Rurrenabaque, good job I couldn’t see any of that on the journey into the jungle, or we’d have been flying out, no matter how long we’d had to wait.
From what we could gather, the minibus that would normally seat eleven, had fifteen adults and three children crammed into it. The driver had been playing cards on the dashboard with his brother. There’d been an argument, causing the driver to veer across the road and smash into us. Pedro had done an amazing job to avoid a full head-on collision. The driver of the minibus had taken the brunt of the impact and was dead when we got to him; the injuries described to me by JC were horrific. A mother and her eight year old daughter sitting immediately behind the driver had terrible injuries. Even with the help of other passengers we couldn’t get them both out of the wreckage in time and the mother died at the scene. The young girl fared better, being shielded from the worst of the crash by her mum; she had a deep cut to her thigh, a broken leg and some injuries to her face. But being smaller, she was pulled out in time for JC to get pressure on the wounds to stop her bleeding to death.
I have no idea how the word got through to the ‘emergency services’ about the crash, but as they started to arrive, JC pulled me away from the minibus and we trudged wearily through the mud back to the jeep. I crawled into the boot and checked Madge’s vital signs. She’d been awake for a while now, but luckily Bozzer had done his job and stopped her from moving. I’d been able to ask her where it hurt and established that she had a fractured pelvis and serious whiplash. We’d all been extremely lucky. The jeep’s solid construction had saved our lives. Pedro had a broken arm, concussion and a head wound. He’d come round whilst we were at the minibus and had climbed out of the jeep to come and help us. He was amazing, acting as an interpreter to those less seriously injured and flagging down other traffic to come and help pull people out of the mangled wreckage.
* *
JC
As help arrived, we handed over the casualties with Angel running through the injuries and Pedro translating. Once we’d sorted out all of the minibus people, we met back at the jeep to help wi
th Madge. Under instruction from Angel, we carefully lifted her out of the jeep, holding her flat. Once she was safely clear, fifteen or so Bolivians heaved the jeep upright. I remember standing there in disbelief as they rolled it back on four wheels and it was started up.
“Good for many more miles, yes?” said Pedro.
My jaw dropped in disbelief. We watched as the jeep was cleared of glass, loaded up with our sopping wet gear, and driven round to face towards La Paz. We carefully returned Madge to the back with Bozzer by her side and the rest of us climbed in. Pedro sat up front next to me whilst I drove. Angel kept vigil beside Madge all the way to La Paz. It was a long journey as we were doing no more than twenty miles an hour on Angel’s strict instructions.
Once on the road, shock really hit home. I think privately Angel was very worried about Madge, but she didn’t want to let on to Bozzer. It had been enough of a job for her to persuade him that a slower speed was essential. The potholes in the road were bone-jarring and hitting them would speed up any internal bleeding.
I don’t know how long we drove for, but by the time we pulled up at the hospital in La Paz my head was pounding with exhaustion, my mouth was parched and I felt weak.
It may have been my imagination, but Angel seemed to be checking Madge over a lot more frequently. There was an urgency in her manner, concern in her body language.
“How’s she doing?” said Bozzer.
Angel didn’t reply. I helped her out of the way as two doctors and a nurse arrived.
We all stood back as we watched the doctors go to work on Madge. I told Angel what I could see and she fired questions at Pedro and the medical team, an edge to her voice. I heard a word that I recognised, only because it was accompanied by a senior looking doctor rubbing his index finger and thumb together as he spoke. I saw the look on Bozzer's face and shuddered as it was translated and repeated.
“Insurance.”
Bozzer said nothing. He looked completely spaced out as Pedro explained the doctors needed to see a copy of their travel insurance. Running a hospital in Bolivia is an expensive business.
