Finally he collapsed back onto the wet grass, certain they were out of harm’s way. Breathing heavily from the exertion, his shoulder burning, he threw his good arm over his face and wished they were home. A few moments and several deep breaths later, he sat up, favouring his good side. He gently re-crossed Ally’s arms over her abdomen and checked her pulse. It was there and she was breathing. Beyond that, he didn’t know.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. The screen was cracked but it still worked. With trembling fingers, he dialed 911. He gave their location and details to the emergency operator. There were three of them, plus the other car. No, he had no idea how many were in the other car or how badly they were hurt. He had checked Ally’s pulse but no, she hadn’t regained consciousness. The operator told him to keep her warm and immobile, and check her airway to make sure it was clear. She kept asking questions, trying to keep him talking while the emergency services arrived, but all it did was aggravate his already-fragile state of mind. He yelled at her to hurry the hell up and snapped the phone shut.
It wasn’t her fault, and he was sorry he yelled at her, but the desperation was overwhelming. He couldn’t do this by himself.
No cars had come along the road since the crash and the night was clear and crisp. He shivered slightly as the adrenaline wore off and shock began to set in. He stared down at Ally, silent and still. The weight of responsibility began to get uncomfortably heavy.
He peeled his jacket off, trying to keep his screaming shoulder immobile as much as possible, and gently tucked it around her, as Callum half-stumbled, half-jogged towards him.
“You shouldn’t have moved her,” he panted, collapsing down on the grass beside them, looking paler than before.
“I didn’t have any choice, the car’s leaking gas, I had to get her out of there.”
“Jesus.”
“What about the other car? Could you get to it?” he asked, his stomach knotted in fear.
Callum shook his head, lying down on his back. Jack glanced over at him, noticing for the first time that there was a trickle of blood stemming from a gash in his head. More blood, dark in the moonlight, matted his hair. “Callum?”
Callum rested his forearm over his face and shook his head. “I could only see the driver, I don’t think there were any passengers. I couldn’t reach him.” He shifted his hand away, peering up at Jack. “He’s a real mess… I think he’s dead.”
“Shit.”
He looked down at Ally, stroking her cheek gently. He checked her pulse and breathing again to reassure himself and prayed silently for the ambulance to appear. He checked Callum again. His eyes were closed and he reached over to shake him gently. “Hey – wake up. You have to stay awake okay?”
Callum’s eyes shot open and he blinked rapidly several times. “Sorry. Just so tired. My head’s killing me.”
Jack shook him again. “Come on, sit up. You hit your head, you gotta stay awake man, come on.”
Callum sat up slowly, leaning forward to hang his head between his knees.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Where the hell are the damn paramedics?” Jack muttered under his breath, smoothing hair away from Ally’s face as she lay, unmoving, in his lap.
The wait seemed tortuously long and he checked her breathing and her pulse again, tucking his jacket carefully around her, saying a prayer under his breath.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered. “I promise.”
The sun unceremoniously woke Callum early the next morning. The moment he sat up, he instantly regretted it. He ran a hand over his throbbing head and squinted into the morning sun streaming in through the living room window. Looking around him, he deduced that he had spent the night on Maggie’s couch. He peered towards the kitchen, where Maggie sat at the table.
She raised her mug with a sympathetic smile. “Coffee?”
He tried to nod but it felt as if the action would cause his head to separate from his shoulders. “Please.”
How did I end up here?
Slowly the details came back to him. He remembered calling Maggie after he left Ally’s, meeting her at Barney’s some time later. He told her about finding Ally’s car outside Jack’s house the night before, about confronting Jack after she had left, and about his conversation with Ally about it earlier. He was bordering on frantic by the time the third round of beers had been ordered. He remembered the conversation detouring onto the funeral, Tom and a kaleidoscope of other subjects that escaped him right now. The rest of the night was a blur.
He didn’t remember coming back here after Barney’s, and he sure as hell didn’t remember swallowing the small furry animal that appeared to have crawled into his mouth overnight and died there. Ditto the battalion of tiny miners who were trying to hack their way out of his skull from the inside. He rubbed his forehead again and reached up to take the mug of coffee that appeared in front of him, indicating the window with a wave of annoyance.
“Can you do something about that?”
He heard her tilting the blinds and risked opening his eyes again, enormously relieved when the morning sunlight no longer hit him squarely in the face.
“You might want these, too.”