Dawson told Wendy what happened to Dad. She then got him to report the condition of his father’s leg and head. Finally, he described the cellar and the lack of stairs.

‘Excellent,’ said Wendy. ‘The first thing you’ll need to do is stop the bleeding. Do you have a medical chest?’

‘Um … what’s a medical chest?’ asked Dawson.

‘It is a supply of medicines and emergency medical equipment kept in remote locations,’ explained Wendy. ‘It is okay if you don’t have one, I just needed to check. What about a first-aid kit?’

‘Yeah,’ said Dawson, reaching for the bag.

‘Do you have dressing and bandages in the first-aid kit?’

‘Yep.’ Dawson pulled out what he needed. ‘I’ll have to put the phone down while I do this.’

‘You do that,’ said Wendy. ‘I will be waiting.’

Dawson placed the phone on the ground and picked up the dressing. ‘You ready?’ he asked Dad.

‘Go for it,’ Dad answered.

Dawson carefully applied the dressing to the wound. Dad’s face tensed and his hands balled up into fists. Holding the dressing in place, Dawson reached for the bandage.

‘It’s okay.’ Dad took a long, deep breath, bracing himself. ‘You’ll need to press on it … and bandage it up securely to stop the bleeding.’

Dawson held his breath, worried about hurting Dad, then pressed a little more firmly. Dad gasped and went white. Dawson fumbled a little as he tried to work quickly. He wrapped the bandage around Dad’s leg, tying it off firmly, but not too tightly.

Dad was still looking very pale and beads of sweat glistened on his brow. His breathing had become loud and ragged.

Dawson exhaled slowly and picked up the phone again. His hand was trembling, so he grasped the phone with both hands to keep it steady. ‘Done.’

‘Excellent,’ said Wendy. ‘The next step will be to make your father a little more comfortable. Do you have any ice?’

‘Yes,’ Dawson answered, thinking back to their campsite. ‘We’ve got lots in our esky.’ He saw Burt, who was in the doorway above, look down at the mention of ice. Gwen had left earlier, while he was talking to Wendy.

‘Excellent. You will need to get some for the swelling on your father’s leg,’ Wendy continued, as if reading from an instruction manual. ‘But do not put the ice on straightaway. You will need to wrap it up in something – a towel or a shirt, even a bag. It is best not to place the ice directly onto the skin.’

‘Okay, but the ice is back at the campground, so it’ll take me a while to go and get it,’ said Dawson.

‘You do that,’ replied Wendy. ‘I will be right here waiting.’

‘Don’t worry about the ice,’ called Burt from above. ‘We’ve got some. I’ll get it now so you can stay with your dad.’

‘Thanks,’ said Dawson, relieved.

As Burt left, Dawson spoke into the phone again. ‘Burt’s gone to get the ice, so I can still talk.’

‘Excellent,’ said Wendy. ‘How is your father holding up? Is he still conscious?’

‘Yes.’

‘Excellent. Are there any other physical signs of trauma?’ asked Wendy. ‘Is he shaking or shivering? Any vomiting or nausea? Sensitivity to light? Is he having trouble focusing or understanding what you’re saying? Anything at all?’

‘Um.’ Dawson looked at Dad. ‘He’s looking very pale. And he’s kinda sweaty. And, his breathing is sort of loud and, um, fast.’

‘Headache,’ groaned Dad. ‘Helluva … headache.’

‘He says he’s got a headache.’

‘Hmm,’ said Wendy. ‘He might have some mild shock or concussion. Not surprising given all he has been through. Additionally, the pain will be making it difficult for him. Have you got anything to put under his head to make him more comfortable?’

‘Not really,’ said Dawson. ‘But I can get something.’

‘That would be helpful,’ said Wendy. ‘If you can raise his injured leg, that will reduce the blood flow to the wound. And if the leg is raised higher than his head, it will also get more blood to his brain. That will help with his paleness.’

‘Here’s the ice,’ said Burt, reappearing in the doorway.

‘The ice is here,’ said Dawson into the speaker. ‘I’m going to put the phone down.’

‘You do that,’ answered Wendy. ‘I will be waiting.’

Dawson placed the phone on the ground, noting how often Wendy used the same careful phrases. She must give out advice like this a lot, he thought. She really knows what she’s talking about. ‘Thanks,’ he said, reaching to get the ice, which Burt had wrapped in an old stained tea towel. ‘I don’t suppose you’d have a couple of cushions, too, for Dad?’

‘Can do,’ said Burt, turning around and heading off again.

Dawson held the ice to Dad’s knee. Dad took a sudden, sharp breath.

‘Sorry,’ said Dawson.

‘It’s okay,’ gasped Dad.

Dawson went for the phone, but Burt had already returned with two cushions – a big firm one and a smaller flat one.

Dawson placed the flatter cushion under Dad’s head. He raised Dad’s injured leg as carefully and gently as he could, but it still made him cry out. Quickly, he slipped the other cushion under it. Dad let out a long breath as his leg was lowered.

Dawson then held the ice pack against Dad’s knee and used his free hand to pick up the phone. ‘I’ve got a pillow under his head and another under his leg. And I’m holding the ice pack on his knee,’ he said to Wendy.

‘Excellent,’ said Wendy. ‘Now, I will explain to you what will happen.’

‘Sure,’ Dawson answered.

‘There is an ambulance about to leave from Marree, about fifty-five kilometres away. It should get to you within the hour. There will be a nurse who can treat your father on the scene. And the ambulance driver can help get your father out of the cellar.

‘Once he is in the ambulance, he will be driven to the Leigh Creek Aerodrome. That is about seventy kilometres to the south of you. The trip should take about an hour. One of you can travel in the ambulance with your father. But I understand that there are two other children.’

‘Yes,’ replied Dawson, biting at his lip. ‘My sisters.’

‘The people who own the satellite phone,’ continued Wendy, ‘would they be able to drive your sisters to the aerodrome?’

‘Hang on, I’ll ask.’ Dawson looked up at Burt pleadingly. ‘Can you take us to Leigh Creek with the ambulance?’

‘Of course,’ called Burt.

‘Okay,’ said Dawson into the phone. ‘They can do that.’

‘Excellent. There will be a Flying Doctors aeroplane waiting there to take your dad to the Royal Adelaide Hospital.’

‘What about us?’ asked Dawson, anxiety creeping into his voice.

‘There will be room on the plane for one other person. And we will assist with working something out for the other children. Do not worry. We will take care of all of you.’

‘Thanks,’ said Dawson, feeling reassured.

‘Now,’ said Wendy, ‘can I please speak to the owner of the telephone again?’

Dawson passed the phone up to Burt, who moved off as he talked to Wendy, and came back to sit with Dad.

Dawson drew in a long breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. His hands were still shaking.

‘You did well, son,’ rasped Dad. ‘Real well.’

Dawson noticed how tired and strained Dad’s voice sounded, and hoped that the ambulance would get there quickly.