The boy’s eyes fluttered closed. “I feel weird. Swimmy.”
“That’s nothing to worry about. You’re going to be just fine.” Sean placed his hands above the wound and pressed, steady and reassuring. “Élise?”
“Yes.” She wanted to do something, but she felt helpless. Useless. Just as she had when Walter had had his heart attack. Every part of her was shaking, her hands, her knees— “What can I do? Tell me and I will do it.” Just don’t let him die, don’t let him die.
“There’s a first-aid kit in the top of my pack. I need it. And then call Jackson.”
“There’s no signal.” The boy’s father was frantic, his face gray. “I’ve already tried.”
Fumbling, Élise found the first-aid kit and pulled it out.
“Is that my blood on the ground?” Sam’s voice was wobbly and faint. “It looks like a lot.”
Élise was silently in agreement with Sam. It was a whole lot of blood. More than she’d ever seen in her life.
“It’s nothing.” Sean’s voice was steady and reassuring. “A small amount of blood can make a whole lot of mess. Haven’t you ever got blood on your T-shirt? Man, that stuff spreads everywhere.” He gestured for Élise to open the pack. “There’s plenty more where that came from, don’t you worry.”
“Mom will be mad at me for getting it on my jacket.”
“She’s not going to be mad. She’s just going to be pleased you’re okay.”
Sam’s eyes were wide and desperate. “I feel sort of numb and everything is far away.”
“I’m right here, Sam, and you’re going to be fine. I’m right here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Cool.” His voice was faint. “You save lives all the time, right?”
Sean’s expression didn’t change. “All the time. All in a day’s work. You don’t need to worry.”
“I didn’t see the rock.”
“Happens to the best of us, buddy. Get Tyler to take his shirt off for you one day. There’s a story to go with every scar. It’s going to give you something to boast about when you’re back at school. Impress the girls.” His fingers were slippery with Sam’s blood but he didn’t release his grip. “Élise, use those scissors to cut off his trousers.”
She picked up the scissors and worked through the soaked fabric, cutting through the mud and leaves that had stuck to the boy’s clothes, all the time aware of the father’s anguish as he tried again and again to get a signal.
“The phone is useless
.” He held it above his head and waved it around desperately. “Nothing. Christ, don’t let him die, don’t let him die—”
Élise saw fear flare in the little boy’s eyes and knew he’d heard.
“No one is going to die.” Icy-calm, Sean gestured with his head. “Try farther down the path, toward the waterfall. It’s patchy, but I’ve been lucky there before. Go.”
Sam’s father hesitated, clearly torn between leaving his son and making that all-important phone call.
“I don’t want to leave him.”
“We’re fine here. Trust me.”
Élise swallowed. She trusted him. Right at that moment if he’d told her to jump off a cliff, she would have jumped without question. And Sam’s dad clearly felt the same way because he seemed to pull himself together.
Responding to the authority in Sean’s voice, he nodded. “I’ll—I’ll be back in just a minute, Sam. You just hang in there. Dr. O’Neil has you safe. He’s going to fix you up. You’re going to be fine, son. Just fine.” It was obvious he didn’t believe it and looking at the volume of blood and the blue tinge to the little boy’s lips, Élise wasn’t sure she believed it, either. But she believed Sean was doing everything that could be done, and if he had any doubts, he wasn’t showing them.
“Open the sterile pads. All of them. And then give me your scarf.” His instructions were clear and concise but she stared at him, panic clouding her thinking. All she could concentrate on was how there was so much blood for a very little boy. How could he possibly survive it?
“My scarf?”
“I’m going to need a bandage. Maybe a tourniquet.” His tone cut through her panic. “Do it.”