A Special Kind Of Family

by Marion Lennox

  Dom was already working. They only had access on the left side. The door of the car had been hauled open. Dom was half in, working on whoever was closest.

  ‘I got the little girl out ’cos she was screaming,’ Frank called hopelessly from behind them. ‘I don’t know what-’

  ‘Just take care of her,’ Dom called. ‘It’s okay. We’ll deal with this.’

  It wasn’t okay.

  The woman closest to them was in her thirties or early forties. She was staring straight ahead, whimpering in shock and fear.

  ‘Sharon, hey, it’s okay, let’s get you out,’ Dom said and she turned her face a little.

  ‘D-Dom.’

  So Dom knew them. That made it…worse.

  A vicious gash ran down the side of Sharon’s head from just above her ear. She had the look of someone just returning from unconsciousness, Erin thought. Dom was mopping blood from around her mouth. Erin reached through from the front and took her wrist. Her pulse was thready and her complexion was sickly blue.

  ‘Does it hurt to breathe?’ Dom asked.

  ‘N-No.’

  They had to get her out to reach her partner. There was another child in the back seat.

  So much blood. Far too much blood.

  Erin wriggled in underneath Dom and slid her hands across the seat, feeling for any obstructions.

  ‘My hands are under her knees,’ Erin said curtly. ‘Seat belt undone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘On count of three, lift.’

  They lifted. Blessedly she came free.

  They worked as if they’d been trained together. Dom must have done the same emergency training she’d done, Erin thought appreciatively. They had Sharon away from the wreck in seconds, carrying her over to the verge to where Frank still stood helplessly holding the child.

  They laid her on the grass. Erin had been doing a lightning assessment as they’d moved her. The moment they had her down Dom was moving back to the wreck. Erin gave Sharon a moment more, checking vital signs.

  Her airway was clear. The gash on her head was bleeding but not gushing. They had her on her side so the blood was no longer running down her face.

  There were fractures, she thought, glancing at the woman’s leg, but she was breathing steadily and was conscious.

  There was no time to check for more.

  ‘Stay with her,’ she said to Frank. ‘Sit down beside her with the little girl.’ She took Sharon’s hand. ‘Sharon, Dom and I need to get everyone else out of the car. Frank will look after you and your daughter.’

  It was all she had time for. She was away, back to Dom.

  Dom had the little boy out of the car before she reached him. One look at him and she knew there was urgent need, but Dom was tugging the little boy past her.

  ‘See to his dad,’ he snapped to her. ‘I have Max. His dad’s name is Ivan and he’s in trouble.’

  So was the little boy. The child’s face was a mass of blood but Dom’s command had been urgent and unequivocal.

  Ivan, the boy’s father, was crumpled against the far side of the car. The steering-wheel was crushed against his chest. Even from here she could see the effort it was for him to breathe. His breathing came as short sharp gasps. His hand was on his chest, and he looked frantic.

  Triage.

  ‘No,’ she said, pulling back in fast decision. Ivan had to be pulled from the car before she could help him and it couldn’t be a lift. Because of the urgency it would have to be a messy pull, and she couldn’t do it. She lifted Max from Dom’s arms without waiting for him to respond. ‘Ivan can’t breathe and he needs your strength. Get him out of there. I’ll take over with Max. Breathing tubes?’

  ‘In the case.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’

  The little boy’s breath was bubbling as if he was breathing underwater. Something had smashed into his face. With the amount of blood in his mouth and nose, he was likely to drown.

  Moving fast, she laid him on the verge, close to his mother. His nose was broken, there were smashed teeth-the little boy would need reconstructive surgery. But that was for the future. For now all she could do was clear his mouth and throat, set him on his side, fit an oral airway and administer oxygen. Thank God for Dom’s equipment.

  Thank God for Dom.

  The little boy had gone past terror. He hadn’t enough strength left to fight her; he simply submitted.

  ‘You’ll be safe, Max,’ she told him. ‘You can breathe now, and I’m giving you something to stop it hurting. I’m popping a mask over your face to make it easier to breathe.’ She manoeuvred him so he was lying propped against his mother. Frank was still holding the little girl, looking more and more terrified by the minute.

  Where on earth was help?

  ‘Can you set the little girl down on the grass?’ she said to Frank, and then to Sharon, ‘Can you please hold your daughter’s hand? I need Frank to hold Max’s mask in place.’ Then, as no one moved, she lifted the little girl bodily from Frank’s grasp and set her down by her mother. Then she grabbed Frank’s big, weather-beaten hands, tugged him down so he was forced to crouch, and forcibly put his hand over Max’s mask.

  ‘Hold that,’ she ordered. ‘Don’t any of you move. Frank, if that mask moves…if Max looks like he’s not getting enough air, if there’s anything that scares you, then you yell loud enough to wake the dead and I’ll be back. But Dom needs me.’

  Dom did need her.

  He had Ivan out of the car but Ivan’s breathing was so shallow it was barely there.

  Erin took a moment to watch as Dom worked. Ivan’s chest was hardly moving-one side seemed totally still. Dom’s fingers were on his throat and he sent her a silent message with his eyes. She knew what it had to be. He’d have felt Ivan’s trachea, and found it pushed to one side.

  This had to be a tension pneumothorax. The symptoms fitted. He’d have broken ribs and a puncture to his lung, so air was escaping from his lung into his chest every time he breathed. The air couldn’t be exhaled. The pressure would be enough to collapse both lungs.

  Dominic had obviously already made the diagnosis. He was grabbing what he needed from his bag. He had a cannula between his teeth, still in its protective sterile casing, holding it while he ripped the side of Ivan’s shirt from neck to waist.

  She grabbed a sterile swab from the bag. Dom looked like he’d been going in without-there was no time for niceties here when the only imperative was to save the man’s life. But she moved like lightning, hauling the swab open, swabbing Ivan’s chest, noting the enlarged veins in his neck, how the left side of his chest wasn’t responding even when he managed to take a breath.

  Air would be being sucked out into the chest wall, building, building, so the lungs could no longer expand, so no more air could get in. He was hardly breathing at all, just sharp, tiny gasps that did nothing to alleviate the blue of his lips and the terror in his eyes.

  They had to get the pressure off.

  She pulled her hand away, leaving the path clear for Dom-but suddenly the cannula was in her hand.

  ‘You’re the emergency specialist,’ Dom snapped. ‘You go in.’

  She didn’t argue. At one level she appreciated Dom’s hardheadedness. That morning he’d objected when she’d taken over his patient-and so he should. But now he was deferring to her specialist training, ego aside.

  He was already moving on, fitting an oxygen mask, leaving her to what she had to do.

  She positioned the needle with care but with speed, then pushed in with force. Deep within the chest.

  Over the top of the sixth rib, in line with the axilla, into the thoracic cavity.

  The air hissed out like a burst of steam under pressure.

  She’d done this once before and then it had been too late. Please…

  It wasn’t too late now. Ivan’s next breaths, miraculously, were slower, and his chest rose and fell. Rose and fell.

  They’d done it.

  Dom had fitted an oxygen mask o
ver Ivan’s face. The man’s colour was improving already.

  Blessed be Dom’s medical kit, Erin thought again, thankfully. He had four oxygen cylinders. Four!

  ‘You’ll have to restock oxygen before your football team goes diving again,’ she whispered, allowing herself a tiny release from tension as Ivan took another breath that actually worked, letting air into his chest and making his chest wall rise and fall almost normally.

  They needed to get him to hospital, fast. He needed a chest tube and an underwater seal fitted until his lung had a chance to heal, but with the pressure off, the other lung could work and he should survive.

  And they were no longer alone. There were suddenly vehicles everywhere. The cavalry had arrived-in force.

  ‘Hey,’ Dom said in a voice that was suddenly a bit unsteady. His hand was on Ivan’s shoulder. His words might be for him but he was looking at Erin. ‘We’ve done it. Well done. Ivan, you’re going to be okay, mate. We’ve sucked a ruddy great air pocket out of your chest. Or rather Doc Erin has. We’re bloody lucky to have her.’

  And then, as Erin’s eyes filled unaccountably with tears, he went on to answer the unspoken questions in Ivan’s eyes. ‘Sharon and the kids are going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.’

  Erin left him to it. She stumbled-her legs unaccountably weren’t working properly-over to the verge to do the same thing for Sharon.

  ‘Your husband and your kids will live.’

  It could have been so much worse.

  ‘Where’s the driver of the kombi?’ someone demanded.

  It was Graham-of course. He was wearing-of all things-a kilt. Later she’d discover that the local Highland band had been practicing. Everyone round them was wearing kilts. Her sense of unreality deepened. A nightmare, with kilts.

  ‘I couldn’t find him,’ Frank said. The farmer was still seated on the verge, one arm full of the little girl, the other holding the little boy’s mask in place. Erin put a hand on the little girl’s neck and felt her pulse. It was strong and steady.

  ‘I reckon she’s gone to sleep, Doc,’ Frank said, and Erin smiled-her first real smile for the evening. She left the little girl and turned her attention to Sharon’s leg. This would heal, she thought.

  But Dom wasn’t relaxing. He was staring around, focusing on Graham’s question. ‘The kombi driver…Where the hell…?’

  ‘He wasn’t here when I got here, Doc,’ Frank said. ‘Swear to God. I heard the smash from the dairy. I was only a couple of minutes away but he was gone.’

  The cab of the kombi was almost intact. Empty. Had he been thrown? Or…

  ‘I need to go,’ Dom said, urgently, as the scream of an approaching ambulance cut the night. ‘Erin, can you take over here? They’ll all have to be taken to Campbelltown or air ambulanced to Melbourne. I’ll leave that call to you. But everyone’s stablised.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  He closed his eyes, briefly. She reached instinctively for his hand and he held it, hard. Only for a fraction of a second, though, as if needing strength before moving on.

  ‘I think this is Nathan’s dad’s van,’ he told her. ‘I have to go.’

  There were two ambulances. The paramedics were competent officers accustomed to dealing with emergencies a long way from the city. Dom and Erin had done the hard stuff. They moved in, setting up drips, stemming bleeding, moving parents and children into the two vehicles, making sure they were stabilised.

  Erin helped transfer them but they didn’t need her to go with them. She watched them leave, feeling ill, shattered at how fast an evening drive could come so close to tragedy. But…where was Dom?

  ‘Is there any sign the driver of the kombi was hurt?’ she asked, and Graham shook his head.

  ‘We don’t think so. The cab’s intact and there’s no blood, nor is there any sign he’s been thrown clear. It doesn’t tell you for sure he wasn’t hurt but…’ He shrugged. ‘No matter. The police will find him.’

  Her concern grew. She had time now to stop and think through Dom’s reaction when he’d realised who the driver of the kombi was. She’d been caught up, focusing on Sharon’s leg when Dom had told her. Now she replayed his words-and remembered fear.

  Why?

  The man was a drug addict. Unpredictable. Unstable.

  Nathan was afraid of him.

  Unbidden, Dom’s words came back to her. ‘I take kids where there’s a problem-a reason they need closer supervision than foster-parents can give.’

  Problems like Martin’s mother, intent on harm. Nathan’s father, arriving on Friday looking ready to do violence. Back here today. Why?

  She stood and surveyed the whole crash scene in its entirety.

  ‘What do you reckon happened?’ she asked Graham, who looked like he was doing the same thing.

  ‘The cops have been looking at the tyre marks,’ Graham said. ‘It looks like the kombi driver was on the wrong side of the road. The cops are saying he didn’t even swerve. Ivan did all the work, trying to avoid him.’

  ‘Then the driver of the kombi…’ Her breath caught in fear. ‘Graham, can we leave others to finish here? I need to go back to Dom’s.’

  She outlined her fears to Graham on the short drive, hoping she sounded worried for no reason, but Graham’s face confirmed what she was thinking.

  ‘He and Tansy take on the kids no one else will have,’ he said grimly. ‘Kids who’d otherwise go into juvenile detention, just to get the protection they need. But Dom can talk down the worst of them. I’ve seen him with a hopheaded father out of his brain with drugs and Dom just talked and talked, getting more and more boring till the guy’s eyes glazed over and the threat was past. Tansy, too.’

  ‘Tansy’s boring?’

  ‘She’s a ball-breaker,’ Graham said, and grinned. ‘I’d like to see any hophead get past our Tansy.’

  It made her feel better-but not much. ‘Can we hurry?’

  ‘We’re already there,’ Graham said.

  She was no longer listening. The moment the car stopped she was out, running toward the house, stumbling slightly in her stupid boots but still running.

  He’d been there.

  The front door was open. There was a hole smashed in the panelling. Splintered timber.

  There were voices coming from the kitchen. Dom. Charles.

  She bucketed through.

  Tansy was sitting in front of the fire. There was blood spattered down the front of her gorgeous shawl. Charles was bathing her forehead, an expression on his face she’d never seen before.

  Ruby was sitting on the opposite side of the fire. She had Martin on her knees, rocking him like a baby. ‘It’s okay,’ she was crooning. ‘He’s gone. You saw the police take him away. We’ll find Nathan.’

  Dom was standing with his back to the door, barking orders into his phone. As Erin entered he wheeled to face her. ‘Erin,’ he said blankly and then, as he saw Graham behind her, he said, ‘Graham, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.’

  ‘I dropped the phone on the road back at the crash,’ Graham said briskly. ‘Smashed. What’s up?’

  ‘I need help.’ He stared blankly at both of them and she couldn’t help it. Erin crossed the few steps separating them, she put her hands in his and held.

  Her Dom. He was, she thought. This man’s trouble was her trouble, whether he willed it or not.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘He came here,’ he said. ‘Nathan’s dad. Off his head with drugs. He’d heard about the fire-hell, there’s been no news over Easter so the local radio station played it as a major event. He must have crashed but he still came. He said his son wasn’t safe and he was taking him away. When Nathan said he didn’t want to go, he hit him. Tansy intervened and got hit herself.’

  ‘Oh, Tansy…’

  ‘But Charles helped,’ Tansy whispered. ‘Nathan broke free. He headed across the road into bushland. Charles managed to stop Michael going after him. A couple of cops on the way to the accident stopped
and lent a hand. They’ve arrested Michael and taken him away, but Nathan’s disappeared. He just ran straight into the bush.’

  ‘I’ve been into the bush as far as I dare,’ Dom said grimly. ‘I’ve yelled my lungs out.’ He turned to Graham, his face set and hard. ‘I need you mate,’ he told him. ‘I need everyone. I want him found.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  T HIS town was amazing. These people were amazing. The more Erin saw of them the more she wanted to be a part of this community.

  Last night half the town had been up to a fire. Now they were turning out to search for one little boy.

  She wasn’t allowed to help.

  ‘Your feet…you shouldn’t be walking on them at all, much less traipsing round the countryside looking for Nathan,’ Dom growled.

  Search parties seemed to be organising themselves, men and women dividing the district into grids, acting methodically and fast. Dom was desperate to be gone as well-he organised himself to lead the first search party but Graham wanted him close. He had to physically hold him back while he made him see sense.

  ‘So we find him,’ Graham told him. ‘Or we think we know where he is. The kid’s terrified. You need to be on call to go wherever we need, to stop him running.’

  ‘I can do that,’ Tansy ventured.

  ‘You can’t.’ It was Charles, and once again Erin had that flash of something she hadn’t seen from Charles.

  Charles had known Tansy for, what, four hours? Was there something in the water?

  ‘He knocked you out,’ Charles was saying. ‘You’re not doing anything until we get that head X-rayed.’

  ‘I can do the calling,’ Ruby said diffidently, but Dom shook his head. Grim but accepting.

  ‘No. Graham’s right,’ Dom said. ‘And so’s Charles. I’ll stay. Tansy needs an X-ray-if there’s a fracture and we miss it I’d never forgive myself and I want it done by someone more capable of reading results than me. Cracked ribs are one thing-neurology’s another. Can you take her to Campbelltown, Charles?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And Martin and I will keep the home fires burning,’ Ruby said. It was a platitude, said so serenely that it sounded right, and Erin saw in that moment why Dom was so grateful for Ruby’s care that he’d taken on fostering himself. She saw Dom nod and knew that somehow he’d been unaccountably comforted by this elderly little woman with her prosaic attitude to life.