After he examined Creed, the medic, named Kevin, had taken him away from the noisy gymnasium that was being staged to accommodate the rescue crews. He had led Creed and Bolo down a long hallway to a small locker room with a private shower and bath. Creed guessed it was normally used by the high school’s coaching staff.
He couldn’t shake the pressure from inside his head. His ears were ringing and if he moved too quickly he got dizzy enough to see stars. Kevin had barely left them when Creed had caved to his knees, emptying his stomach in the toilet. Bolo kept close the whole time, nudging Creed and allowing him to use the big dog’s back to help him get to his feet. Even now the dog kept so close his side touched Creed’s leg. Every once in a while he noticed Bolo looking up at him.
As soon as Creed felt he had his balance back, he knelt down again, only this time he ran his hands over Bolo. He let the water help him clean and examine the dog’s back, his legs, his neck and chest. Gradually Creed felt the dog relax his muscles, and he didn’t tense when his owner palpated his sides and belly.
Suddenly another wave of nausea washed over Creed and he stopped. Leaned his forehead against Bolo’s side and felt the dog’s muscles go rigid. Creed waited, head pounding, ears ringing. There was nothing more in his stomach to churn but acid. Bolo stood still, also waiting. Then the dog twisted his neck to look back at Creed. He didn’t move his body away, letting Creed continue to lean on him.
“I’m okay, buddy,” Creed told the dog, but he still didn’t move. Right now the slightest motion threatened to drop him. And Bolo seemed to know this.
He remembered the medic showing him his helmet. The back had cracked like an eggshell.
“You’re gonna feel like a truck hit you then backed up and ran over you,” Kevin had said to him.
He told Creed they could transport him to the nearest hospital to get X-rays, that he was almost certain Creed had a few broken ribs. Creed had refused the transport, but agreed to have Kevin wrap and treat him after he scraped the mud off.
He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. How long had he been on his knees, eyes closed, forehead nestled against Bolo? He hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t sensed anyone else’s presence.
“Mr. Creed?”
He heard Kevin’s voice but still didn’t move.
“You doing okay?”
The man was older than Creed, shorter but lean and muscular. Callused hands suggested he had another job—perhaps part-time—or a hobby that required other skills. He had been careful when he examined Creed earlier, experienced in knowing how much pressure he could get away with. But now he stood across the room, waiting for permission.
“Wishing the room would stop tilting.”
“Sure I can’t talk you into that ride to the med center in Clyde?”
As if he needed to prove it to himself as much as to Kevin, Creed pushed himself to his feet, holding on to Bolo with one hand and the wall with the other. He needed to catch his breath while he shut off the water and grabbed a towel.
“I’ll be okay. Just need some rest.”
He bent to dry off Bolo and bit his lip when the pain in his chest took him off guard.
“You have anyone who can keep an eye on you tonight?”
“This guy right here.”
Kevin didn’t look pleased. He was digging in his medical duffel, pulling out bandages, ready to work on Creed’s body again.
“How’s the dog doing? The one we dug up?” Creed asked, remembering he wasn’t the only patient in the ambulance back from the slide site.
“About as good as you. Battered but stubborn.”
“She gonna be okay?”
“I think so. She actually didn’t refuse to be taken to the animal hospital.”
“What’ll happen to her?” He remembered Vance saying that all the other passengers in the car they had pulled up out of the mud were already dead. Her entire family, gone.
“If there’s no other family or friends to take her, she’ll probably go to a shelter.”
“Can you do me a favor? If there’s no one else, would you make sure I get her?”
“Seriously?” Kevin looked up at him. “The rescue of that dog almost got you killed. You sure you want it?”
“It wasn’t her fault.” Finished with Bolo, he grabbed another towel for himself. “Can you do that for me?”
The guy shook his head like he still couldn’t believe Creed wanted the dog. He filled his hands with scissors and ACE bandage, but when he looked up again, Creed could see the hint of a smile when he said, “Sure, I can do that for you.”
19.
Newburgh Heights, Virginia
Maggie O’Dell grabbed the ringing cell phone off her nightstand. Eyes too bleary to see the caller ID. Instinct from too many late-night calls made her simply answer.
“This is O’Dell.”
“I woke you.”
The surprise in Benjamin Platt’s voice was warranted. O’Dell rarely slept more than a few hours a night, and even those were interrupted by nightmares. Some of which Ben had experienced firsthand. If she’d had her way earlier tonight, he would have been there beside her.