Tara stopped a short distance behind the mangled car and turned on her flashers. Med bag in hand, she scrambled through the snow toward the little black car. The front end was crumpled in a V around the pole, its hood bent up like a tent. The air bags had deployed.
Tara’s heart pounded at the thought of what she might find. The driver was the only occupant. His window was down a few inches. “Sir.” She rapped on the glass, tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge. “Sir, can you hear me?” Adrenaline fired a round in her gut. She jerked the handle again. It was either locked or jammed from the impact. To her relief, he turned and looked at her. Tara sucked in a breath. It was Bo. His eyes were glassy. “Bo, unlock the doors.”
“My leg,” he moaned. Then his head lolled back and his eyes closed.
Tara banged on the glass. “Bo, unlock the car so I can help you.” He didn’t respond. She couldn’t see his leg through the window. Tara dropped her bag and went in search of something to break it with. Plodding through the deep snow in her street shoes, she lost her balance and crashed to her knees. In the rush to help, she’d forgotten her coat. The thin fabric of her scrubs was no match for the cold.
Tara spotted what looked like the top of a good-sized rock and dug it up. The rough, frozen surface bit her exposed fingers, making them burn. She lugged it to the passenger side of Bo’s car and held it up high, bringing it down at an angle she hoped would get the job done without hitting Bo. It bounced off and sank into the snow. Precious seconds were slipping away. Her heart kicked up a notch and she dug picked up the rock again, the snow biting her fingers like fiery teeth. She raised it once more, higher this time, slammed it down harder. Bits of glass shot everywhere and the rock landed on the floor of the car.
“Bo, can you hear me?” Tara reached in and hit the unlock button. “Bo, it’s Tara. I’m going to help you.” She slogged around to his side, keeping one hand on the car for balance. She pulled the door handle but it opened a crack. Planting both feet, she yanked with all her might. The door gave way, protesting with a loud creak. She landed on her backside, grateful for the snow that padded her fall. She clambered to Bo’s side and stroked his cheek. “Bo, wake up.” His head was back, eyes closed. “Bo, can you hear me?”
His eyelids fluttered. “My leg,” he gritted.
Tara moved so she could see. His lower right leg was skewed, bent where there was no joint. Considering where the brake pedal was in relation to where it should be, she wasn’t surprised. He’d probably had his foot pressed hard on the brake at the moment of impact and the bones in his leg had crumpled just like the frame of the car. A crimson pool collected on the floor beneath his trousers. Oh no! Her stomach heaved so she took several deep breaths in an effort to stay in control. Then her training kicked in. A,B,C—airway, breathing, circulation. His airway was clear, breathing stable. But the cold and the blood loss could screw that up in a hurry. Circulation was the priority.
“Bo, where’s your cell phone?”
“Briefcase.”
His coherent answer gave Tara a shot of encouragement. She spotted his briefcase on the floor in front of the passenger seat and warred over what to do first. Getting the bleeding under control was paramount, but she had to summon help. They were a long way from the nearest trauma center.
“Unhook my seatbelt,” he rasped.
“I can’t do that.” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry, but you’re safer if we leave it on in case you have a spinal cord injury.” The car was too scrunched for her to reach his phone without leaning on him. “Do you know what just happened?”
“Fell. Asleep.” Each word came with great effort.
Tara got down on one knee and lifted his pant leg a few inches. Bo’s hands fisted and he groaned. Blood flowed freely from a compound fracture. He could be headed for hypovolemic shock. “Bo, I have to find your phone, then I’ll take care of your leg.” She skidded over the icy ground to the passenger side and rifled through his briefcase. She found the phone and dialed 911 on her way back around.
Once help was on the way, she shoved the phone onto the dash and got to her knees, pulling blunt-tipped scissors and a rubber tourniquet from her bag. “Bo, an ambulance is on the way. I’m going to look at your leg. Stay awake for me.” Tara leaned in and carefully cut a line up his right pant leg.
“No!” Bo writhed.
The pain in his cry nearly undid her. “I have to control the bleeding.”
His left leg was in the way, making the task difficult, but there was no room to move it in the cramped space. Tara cut a T in the pant leg just below his knee and carefully parted the fabric. White bone jutted through torn pink flesh in the middle of his shin. Red muscle bulged where there should be skin. Tara drew back, leaned toward the rear tire, and threw up.
She wiped her mouth on her shoulder. “Stay awake for me, Bo.” She moved close again and lifted his thigh so she could get the tourniquet around it.
“Oh, God!” Bo’s fist connected with her right cheek.
Tara pitched backward, banging her head on the door. She rubbed the spot, sucked in a lungful of air and got to her knees. “Bo, I have to get this around your leg.” She cringed as she lifted his thigh again, gently pushing one end of the rubber strip underneath. He cursed, but didn’t strike her again. Tara cinched it tight. In addition to fire pulsing through her cheek and involuntary tears streaming from her right eye, she was cold. Too cold. Her whole body shook. More worrisome was that Bo’s temperature must be dropping as well.
“I’ll be right back.” Tara closed his door most of the way and quickly retraced her steps to Old Blue. Shivering uncontrollably, she donned her coat, zipped it to her chin and yanked an old quilt from the trunk. When she returned, Bo’s breathing was coming shallow and fast. He was in shock. Fear and frustration surged inside her. “Bo, I brought you a blanket. We need to get you warmed up. Stay awake for me.” She tucked it tightly around him and his breathing intensified.
“Bo.” Tara patted the sides of his face, noticing the blood on her hands for the first time. She castigated herself for forgetting sterile gloves. She wiped the blood on her coat. His eyes remained closed and she patted some more. “Wake up for me, Bo.” Nothing. Whispering a desperate prayer, she pulled the blanket away from his chest and rubbed his sternum with her knuckles. He stirred, looked at her. “Okay. Good. Keep your eyes open, Bo. I need you to take slow, deep breaths. Like this.” She got close to his face. His eyes stayed on hers and he did as she said. His breathing stabilized and Tara gave him an encouraging smile. “Good job. Focus on taking deep breaths.” The knots in her stomach loosened a bit. “It shouldn’t be much longer.” She prayed it was true as she tucked the quilt around his shoulders.
“Bo, follow my hand with your eyes.” She moved her hand back and forth slowly in front of his face. His eyes tracked and the pupils were dilated normally. Tara crouched and pulled up the blanket. “I need to check your leg.”
“Oh!” He stiffened.
Tara flinched. The bleeding appeared to be under control. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Hang in there.” It felt like forever since she’d called for help. She realized she hadn’t asked about other injuries. What kind of nurse was she going to be? “Bo, do you hurt anywhere besides your leg?”
His eyelids fluttered. “Face.”
There was a mark on the bridge of his nose. “I think the airbag got you. Were you going to Reno?” Sirens wailed in the distance and Tara’s stomach began to unclench.
“Tara. My meeting.”
“I’m afraid you’re not going to make it.”
“Have to.”
Needles of pain shot through her legs and into her feet. She tried to get up, but her legs didn’t work. She wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from kneeling in the tight space. “Bo, do you hear the sirens? You should be out of here soon.” Tara sagged with relief when a fire truck pulled up behind them. It parked at an angle blocking the outer lane. The crew jumped out and ran her direction.
“Are you hurt?” A firefighter knelt beside her.
“No. I stopped to help. He’s got an open fracture on his lower right leg. I put a tourniquet above the knee about ten minutes ago. Maybe fifteen. He lost a lot of blood. My legs aren’t working. Will you move me somewhere?”
“Sure.” He picked her up. “Do you want me to take you to the ambulance?” One had just pulled up beside them.
“No. Just set me down somewhere and help him.” The needles in her legs intensified. She clamped her eyes shut and stifled a groan.
He turned to a crew member. “Ryan, take a look at his leg. He’s got an open fracture on the right tib. She applied a tourniquet ten to fifteen ago.” To Tara he said, “You’re freezing. You need to get warm.”
Tara opened her eyes. “T—take me to my car. P—please.” Painful tremors wracked her whole body.
“That one?”
“Mmm hmm.”
He headed that way. “Does that thing have a working heater?”
Unable to speak, she only nodded.
He opened the door and set her inside. Tara started Old Blue and cranked up the heat.
“What happened to your cheek?”
“I n—need to shut the d—door.” It was becoming hard to breathe.
He reached in and put his hand near the vent, which was already blowing hot air. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” He closed the door and hurried away.
Hot air flowed in. After several minutes, Tara’s chills—and the pain that came with them—began to subside. The fireman jogged back with something in his hand. He opened her door and handed her a pack of wet wipes. Tara eyed her bloody hands. Her stomach churned. She gulped some fresh air. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s stable. They’re about ready to roll.”
Tara’s heart ached for Bo. She pulled out a wipe from the container and began cleaning dried blood from between her fingers. Her stomach lurched. She leaned out the door and got sick again. Fortunately, the fireman hopped out of range.
“Sorry.” Tara wiped her mouth and wondered again if nursing was really for her. She swallowed, bile burning her throat. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over her. Her color must have changed because he quickly reclined her seat.
“I’ll clean up your hands. Lay back and rest a bit.”
Tara complied, but the spot where her head hit the door hurt when she leaned on it. “Ouch!”
“What’s wrong?”
Tara cradled the back of her head. “He hit my cheek when I lifted his leg to get the tourniquet under it. I fell back against the door.”
“You said you weren’t hurt.” He checked her pupils.
“I forgot.”
“Forgot? How hard were you hit?”
“Hard enough to make it hurt.” All these questions were making her cranky. She had to get to school.
“Do you have a headache?”
“No,” she lied. She’d deal with it later. “I think it’s the blood. I got sick when I looked at his leg, too. This is humiliating.”
He chuckled. “You got the job done.” He passed her a bottle of water. “This might help. Give me your hand.”
Closing her eyes, Tara did so. She angled her head so the swollen lump on the back didn’t come in contact with the headrest and drank some water. Had she gutted it out for three-and-a-half years for nothing?
“I’m Landon,” he said.
“I’m Tara.”
“You’re wearing scrubs and you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m in nursing school. I finally got over the needle thing. And blood hasn’t been a problem in clinicals. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“An open fracture isn’t just blood. And being alone in the freezing cold with no one to back you up isn’t easy. This is the front line. It’s different out here.” He finished cleaning her hand and picked up the other one.
“I hope you’re right. I only have one more semester.” And a small mountain of student debt she had no idea how she’d pay off if things fell apart.
“Nice work on the window and getting his door open. Made our job easy.”
Tara gazed up at him. “Except you’re here giving me a manicure.” She wasn’t about to tell him what she did for a living. “You’ll probably never live this down if your buddies find out.”
He laughed. “Is this your first hot scene?”
“Can’t you tell? Forgot my gloves.” She gave an embarrassed smile. “I know the driver. We met a few days ago.”
“No kidding? Well, you did everything right. With that injury, he’s lucky you were the one behind him.” He set her hand in her lap. “All done.”
Tara glanced at her watch. Her test started in forty minutes. Even if she could get there, she may not be able to think. If she scored below seventy-three percent, her next semester was blown. Given the circumstances, her instructor would probably let her reschedule. But after all the studying and stress—including stealing her car back from Sal—she had to try.