by Annie O'Neil
She glanced across at him. Jawline tight. Eyes trained on the road. No guesses as to what was going on in his head.
“This’ll be my first accident,” Kali said.
Brodie shot her a sharp look.
“Outside a clinic or a hospital, I mean,” she quickly qualified.
“You’ll be fine. A bit less equipment and no nurses to fetch things, but with the help of the fire crew—they’ve all got basic paramedic skills—you’ll be fine.”
He shot her another look, one exhibiting a bit more of the Brodie she knew off duty.
He gave her thigh a quick squeeze. “Sorry, Kali. My brother’s up in that mess, and he said he was fine but I have a bad feeling.”
“In what way?”
“He’s trained in mountain rescue—basic paramedic stuff—but he didn’t sound like he was doing anything. Normally he would’ve called while he was doing fifteen things as well as talking to me. One of those rare multitasking males.” He gave a weak smile. “Hold up—I think I see them up ahead.”
Kali nodded. She got it now.
Family.
The one thing you could never escape. They were woven into your cell structure.
* * *
Brodie pulled his four-by-four to an abrupt halt and scanned the scene. Not good. The opposite, in fact. He was out of the cab and crunching across ankle-deep snow toward the stationary vehicles in an instant.
“Callum?” His voice echoed against the hillsides, then was absorbed by the ever-thickening snow.
Kali appeared by his side, all but dwarfed by the large medical kit slung over her shoulder.
“Here.” He took a hold of the free strap. “I’ll take that. Can you grab the backboards off the roof? Callum!” he called again, his tension increasing.
The name reverberated from hillside to hillside, leaving only the hushed silence of snowfall.
He jogged to the logging truck, where there were huge lengths of freshly sawn trees splayed hither and yon, and climbed up to the cab. The driver was slumped over the wheel. Brodie yanked open the door and pressed his fingers to his pulse point. Thready. But he was alive.
“All right there, pal? Can you hear me?”
No answer. The driver’s airbag had deployed, bloodying his nose. He could’ve easily knocked his head on the side window and concussed himself.
“Here’s the backboard. Where do you want me?” Kali looked up at him from the roadside.
Brodie used the high step of the cab to scan the site. As his brother had described, there was a car twenty or so meters away at the edge of the loch, and one flipped onto the roadside just a few meters beyond.
He jumped down from the cab.
“Let’s do a quick assessment then board up whoever needs it. Get blankets to everyone. Callum!”
Nothing.
They ran toward the overturned vehicle and knelt at the windows.
A woman hung, suspended by her seat belt, looking absolutely terrified.
“Madam, are you all right?”
“My boy!” she screamed, hands pressed to the roof of the car. “Can you get my boy out? Billy! Are you all right, darling? Mummy’s just here.”
“Hello, in there.”
Brodie kept his voice calmer than he felt. The accident victims he could deal with. Not hearing from his brother... A sour tang of unease rose in his throat.
He saw the woman trying to release the catch on her seat belt. “I’m Dr. McClellan. We’ll help get you and your boy out of the car, but can you keep your seat belt on, please? Don’t try to undo it. You could hurt your neck. What’s your name?”
“Linda. Linda Brown. Billy—can you hear Mummy?”
Kali tried to pull the rear door open on the driver’s side, where a toddler was hanging from his child seat. “I can’t get it open!”
“The roof must’ve been crushed when the car flipped.” Brodie gave the door a tug as well, his foot braced against the body of the vehicle. No result. “Can you run down and check the other car while I get these two out?”
The whine of a siren filled the air. The fire department.
“Go on.” Brodie waved to Kali to get to the other car while he pulled out his window punch. “Linda, can you cover your face, please? I’m just going to break Billy’s window—all right?”
“What about Billy’s face?” the panicked mother asked.
“I’ll do my best—he should be all right, but we really need to be getting him out.”
He held the tool to the window and pressed. The glass shattered but remained intact. Brodie stuck the slim tool into a corner of the window to make a small hole, then tugged as much of the glass away from the boy’s face as he could. It fell away in a sheet, exactly where Brodie needed to kneel. He ran over to the backboard and tugged it into place by the window, grabbing his run bag as he did so.
He unzipped his medical kit and raked through the supplies, his fingers finding the neck braces by touch as he tried to find a pulse on the boy’s neck.
Yes!
Three out of three so far.
Where the hell was his brother?
“How is he? Is he all right?” called Linda.
“I’ve got him. He looks good on the outside, but we’ll have to wait and see if he’s sustained any internal injuries.”
Linda began to cry softly, a low stream of “No, no, no...” coming in an unrelenting flow.
Brodie rucked up the boy’s shirt. He could see the sharp red marks from the seat belt, but no swelling that would indicate internal bleeding. He’d need tests. X-rays. Everything he didn’t have here. The boy needed a proper hospital.
Had Callum called the air ambulance? Could it even fly in this weather? The snow had managed to thicken in the space of ten minutes, shrouding the surrounding mountains and hillsides in cloud.
C’mon, little brother. Throw me a sign you’re okay.
“Brodie?”
Johnny appeared by his side, kitted out from head to toe in his all-weather firefighting uniform. Brodie blinked and for an instant saw the young redhead he’d used to play footie with as a youngster. That young lad had been replaced by a man who was ready for action.
“Tell us what you need.”
Brodie quickly ran through instructions to get the truck driver out onto a backboard—but not before he’d had a neck brace applied. Then he’d need checks on internal bleeding, heart rate, blood pressure—the usual stats for an extraordinary situation.
“Can you help me get Billy’s mother out of the car so we can get the two of them into a warm vehicle?”
“On it, mate.”
Brodie looked toward the car by the loch and couldn’t see anyone around it. Where had Kali disappeared to?
He forced himself to be still for a moment, to crush the growing panic. He’d dealt with thousands of people fearing for their lives in Africa. He could do this.
“Brodie?” Johnny tapped his leg. “We’ve got this if you want to go down to the other car.”
“Thanks, pal. I’ll do that. Extra blankets and things are in the back of my four-by-four.”
Brodie took off at a jog, quickly ratcheting his pace up to a run when the details of the scene became clear. The front of the estate car was completely concertinaed. If anyone was alive in there it would be a miracle. He could hear barking. Dogs in the back? Had to be. There weren’t any running around free.
He reached the front of the car, a seventysomething woman inside. The crash’s first fatality.
The barking began again in earnest, as if the dogs sensed their owner had been killed. He made a mental note to ring the vet, see if he could come out as well.
He raced to the other side of the car. There was Kali, kneeling next to the mangled remains of a bicycle and...
/> Oh, no, no, no...
“Callum?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRODIE DROPPED TO his knees beside Kali, barely taking in the stream of information she was efficiently rattling off. Something about the car beginning to roll into the loch, Callum skidding on his bicycle in an attempt to get it behind the wheel to try and stop it, and not being able to unclip his bicycle shoes from the pedals before the car started rolling. Possible lacerations or puncture. Bones crushed.
His own observations took over as he absorbed the sight of his brother’s pale face and contorted torso, only just visible outside the edge of the vehicle. Limited to zero blood flow would be going to his legs. Muscle damage. Tissue damage. Possible paralysis. He’d seen worse. So much worse. But seeing Callum like this sent shock waves of hurt through him. Pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
He forced himself to swallow down the emotion before he spoke. “Hey, little brother.”
Callum, his head resting on a heat blanket Kali had put under him, tried to crane his neck to see Brodie better, despite the handlebars of his bicycle pinning his chest to the ground.
“Ach, no, Callum. Don’t move your head. Why isn’t he in a neck brace?” he snapped at Kali.
“He’s not complained of any neck pain,” Kali replied gently.
He knew the tone. The one he’d used with countless family members of patients. The one that said, You’re missing the big picture, so why don’t you take a big breath and—
“It’s his leg, Brodie. I’ve not administered anything for the pain yet. Until we see what’s going on under there it’ll be like working in the dark,” Kali stated simply. She pulled a phone out of her pocket and wiggled it in his eyeline. “Your Aunt Ailsa’s rung your brother’s phone here. She couldn’t get through to you. An air ambulance is on its way. There is only one that can risk it in this kind of weather.”
“How long?” Brodie wished he could take the bite out of his tone, but this was his brother they were talking about.
“Ten...maybe fifteen minutes?”
“Right.” He cursed up at the sky, then checked his watch. “I suppose they didn’t manage to stop the last ferry?”
“No.” Kali shook her head, putting up a hand to cut off Brodie’s reaction. “But Ailsa rang round and finally got hold of the captain. He’s going to drop everyone and come back with a couple of ambulances. Then he’ll make the trip back to the mainland.”
Brodie nodded, taking in the enormity of the gesture. These were islanders pulling together to help each other. Lives woven together in good and bad. This, he suddenly realized, was what island life was about. Being there. Each person doing what they could to enrich and strengthen the vital community.
Brodie gave Kali’s hand a quick squeeze. One that he hoped said, I know I’m being an ass, but help me get through this. He felt her squeeze back. It was all the sign he needed.
“All right, little brother...let’s take a look, eh?”
He shifted to his hands and knees, the snow sending the cold straight through his trousers. But that was nothing compared to what his little brother must be feeling, with half his body trapped underneath that car.
The scene was impossible to break down into simple components. Just a mesh of metal, bicycle wheels, winter clothes and his brother’s legs. Everything was indiscernible except the ever-increasing pain on his brother’s face.
He shook his head, trying to keep his expression light as he faced his brother. “What have you done, you numpty? Why didn’t you say you were in a bit of bother yourself when you rang?”
Brodie tried his best to keep his tone loving. Funny how anger and love wove together so tightly when a person was terrified.
“I wasn’t when I rang. I was freewheeling down the mountainside and saw it all happen. Got down as soon as I could, checked out everyone and then saw Ethel’s car going backwards toward the loch.”
“Ethel?”
“The woman driving this car.” He tried moving an arm to indicate the front of the vehicle, only to cry out in pain. “I—had—to—stop—it—” he panted.
“The world’s first human cribbing.” Brodie gave him an impressed smile. No need to point out the obvious flaws in the plan.
“I think my bike trail days might be on hold for a while. Always happens when I leave the refrigerator door open.” Callum laughed before another wince of pain took over.
Brodie shot a look at Kali. His brother was talking nonsense and—as man-childish as he was—he had never been a babbler.
He gave his brother’s arm a rub and felt Callum’s body beginning to be consumed by shivering. Could be the cold. Could be shock.
“Kali, have we got a couple more blankets?”
“You bet.” She nodded and ran back to the car to retrieve them.
“Callum. How are you feeling, mate? You still with me?”
Callum shut his eyes, but spoke with deliberation. “There weren’t any blocks out here, and I wasn’t going to let the dogs go into the loch to drown on top of everything...” His voice began to lose what little strength it had.
“You saved them, pal.”
He gave his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as his eyes traveled the length of his body to his leg, pinned beneath both his cycle and the back wheel of the estate car. Any number of things could be going wrong underneath that mess. If a spoke had jammed into his leg when the car had moved it might easily have pierced a posterior tibial or fibular artery.
“Talk me through what you feel.” Brodie’s eyes were on his brother.
“Done that.” His brother’s eyes flicked up in Kali’s direction. “Little to no sensation below the knee. Clear of injury other than a strain in the back from such a kickass move!” Callum finished, with a grin that rapidly shape-shifted into a grimace.
“Okay, superhero—we know you’re the coolest kid on the block. Any light-headedness?” Brodie’s tone was all business.
“Yeah—but there’s a blinkin’ car on top of me, bro. I’m hardly going to feel great.”
“Since when do you talk like one of the boys in the hood?” The words were out before he could stop them.
“Since when did you start caring?”
Callum shot. Callum scored.
“Blankets?”
Kali’s voice broke through the silence Brodie couldn’t fill. Her bustle of action—swiftly wrapping the specialized heat blankets around Callum’s torso—was a welcome cover for the surge of guilt threatening to drown Brodie. He was going to get his brother out of this, and he didn’t know how but he was also going to make things up to him. Some way. Somehow.
“Kali...” Brodie lowered his voice. “We need to get this car off him.”
“Absolutely. But I haven’t done a thorough check inside because I saw Callum first. And the car will definitely go into the loch if we pull him out right now. The car could be the only thing holding him together...” Kali countered, not unreasonably.
She was right. If Callum began to bleed out before they had proper medical supplies there, or a means to get him to an operating theater... The very thing that was threatening his life could be keeping him alive.
“Can you get the dogs?”
“What?” Brodie leaned in closer to hear his brother.
“The dogs...in the back of the car.”
Callum flicked a familiar pair of blue eyes toward the rear of the vehicle. Sometimes it was like looking in a mirror.
“On it.”
Brodie knew his brother would do anything to help an animal before a human. The man should’ve been a vet, but that would’ve meant he had to leave the island for five years’ training. And that was never going to happen.
He wouldn’t rest easy now unless he knew the dogs were sorted.
The back
of the car was undamaged, so the hatch top easily rose when Brodie unlatched it. Two enormous dogs leaped out of the vehicle, one landing with a sharp yelp. A broken leg? Brodie scanned the car for their leashes and easily found them, along with a bag of treats tucked into a side compartment. It was all precious time away from his brother, but Kali was there, assessing and treating him. He trusted her.
He tried unsuccessfully to get the dogs to sit... If the Newfoundlands would just play ball...
“Brodie?”
Kali’s voice stopped him in a near-successful attempt at getting the leashes onto the dogs.
“Could you bring the dogs over? Your brother wants to say hello.”
“I’m not the ruddy dog whisperer in the family,” he grumbled, and only just stopped his eyes from rolling. His brother was in serious trouble here. Time to quit playing the despairing older brother.
One limping, one resisting, Brodie finally managed to get the dogs over to his brother, where they immediately turned into entirely different beasts, licking Callum’s face, gently placing their paws on his shoulders as if petting him. These three weren’t strangers. They shared a warmer relationship than he did with his own brother, and the hit of shame was hard to shrug off.
But he had to do his best. There was an accident scene to sort. The air ambulance crew would need a situation report when and if they arrived. With the weather closing in they would be lucky. And Linda and her son would need some extra care, not to mention the truck driver. This car needed lifting and towing away from the loch, and the poor soul who was inside needed extracting.
“It’s Ethel.”
Kali was looking up at him. He shook his head, not understanding.
“Your brother says it’s Ethel Glenn inside. These are her dogs.”
His mind raced to connect the dots and in an instant he made the link. Ethel Glenn and her famous shortbread. The long-term widow had stayed up in the croft she and her husband had lived on long after his death some twenty years ago. The villagers went to her, instead of the other way round. She guarded that rickety old croft like an explorer staking a claim on an island full of treasure. Peat and stone. Impossible to make a living on. He’d never understood the draw.
