Focused, I push the patient’s blouse up, insert the IV line, hook up the life-saving infusion and count the seconds. For barely a minute the car stays still, then it tilts further.
‘Damn it, Jaden, get the hell out of there!’ Nyla’s voice drills into my eardrum.
One more minute.
The woman needs another minute for the infusion to take effect.
The next jolt runs through the car. We slump to the left, the vehicle held up only by the right side mirror that’s caught on a rock.
Damn it.
Metal grinds.
I set the infusion bag on the woman’s stomach.
The side mirror is slowly giving way.
With both arms I wrap around the woman’s upper body and, together with the infusion bag, haul her over the center console onto the passenger seat with me.
The car lurches.
Stones break off the rock and plunge into the depths.
The woman pressed tightly against me, I push off from the seat – and save us both through the open car door, out onto the rocky ledge.
Nyla’s sharp scream pierces the air. The car swerves downward before my eyes, I cling to the rock, the woman clutched tightly in my arms.
Then it goes quiet.
My heart is pounding. The patient moans softly, her head resting on my shoulder. I see the IV bag dangling beside her legs, quickly grab it and check it for damage.
It survived the jump. Just like the tube. The cannula has shifted, but that can be corrected.
Thank God.
‘Get him up!’ I hear Nyla plead, fractions of a second later I see her above me at the edge of the cliff. Deep concern dominates her face. ‘Are you okay?’
I exhale shakily. ‘We’re fine. Get us up, I’ll secure the patient.’
‘Okay, slowly reel in the winch,’ someone yells. A loud beeping fills the air. Then we’re pulled upward.
We’ve barely got solid ground under our feet when Nyla’s expression shifts from worried to pissed off.
‘Damn it, that was close, you could have died, do you get that?’ she yells.
Crystal clear. And that’s exactly why I can’t answer now. Especially not when she’s looking at me like that and stirring up even more chaos inside me than there already is.
‘Patient unconscious on arrival. Suspected severe hypoglycemia. Blood sugar at 38 mg/dl.’ I present the case in a matter-of-fact tone and am glad I can at least manage that much.
Nyla pushes the gurney over to me. ‘That was way too reckless.’
I know. ‘Forty percent glucose IV. was administered, patient is now showing initial response. Repeat blood sugarmeasurement required,’ I say anyway, because I can’t deal with it myself. Carefully, I lift the still-dazed woman onto the gurney.
Nyla’s stunned gaze meets mine, but this time she stays silent. In the background I see the woman’s passenger running toward us. Hair flying, cheeks wet with tears, her expression shocked.
For the blink of an eye my gaze lingers on her, and even that is too much. On top of that, I can feel the adrenaline ebbing inside me. I want to hold on to it, but it still leaves me—and once again it takes something with it that belongs to me.
The high. The trance. The being far, far away.