Page 104 of Embers in the Dark

“I can talk but it feels a little funny in the back of my throat,” he explains.

“Alright. What’s your name?” I ask.

“Noah,” he says.

“Hi, Noah,” I say. “Can you open your mouth for me so I can check for swelling?”

He does as I ask. “Good job. Your tongue doesn’t look swollen, which is good. Your eyes are pretty swollen, which probably feels uncomfortable, huh?”

He nods. “I’m just going to keep looking around your arms, neck, and head. I have to see where the hives are. Is that okay with you?”

He nods again. “If you start feeling anything else, just let me know.”

“Okay,” he answers.

“And my buddy, Clay, will be helping me out here.”

Clay introduces himself.

We start assessing him and taking note where the hives are. The nurse is giving her report to our captain, and I overhear that the sting was on a spot that may have been near an artery. From my experience, it could have simply hit the blood stream and I wonder if that accounts for why it spread so quickly. She got the stinger out quickly. But even so, if his allergy is severe, that could be why he had such a significant reaction.

“Were his parents called?” I ask.

“His mother was called,” the nurse tells me. “She works nearby. She should be here shortly.”

Even though Noah most likely can’t see me due to the swelling around his eyes, I still crouch down directly in front of him as if he could see me. “Noah, your mom’s been called, but you’ll have to take a trip to the hospital in our cool ambulance. Okay, bud?”

“I’m scared,” he says with such a small voice.

“I know, but you know what?” I say.

“What?” he asks.

“You get the cool lights on,” I tell him.

“Promise?” he asks, only slightly amused, his fear still at the forefront of his thoughts.

“Promise,” I tell him.

We start getting Noah onto the gurney and I talk to him the entire time so he’s not scared throughout the process. I’m about to walk away when he calls for me.

“Hunter, don’t go. I want my mommy.” His little hand reaches for me.

“It’s okay, buddy.” I grab his hand. “You’re in good hands.”

“Will you stay with me until she gets here?” he pleads.

“Oh, um.” Shoot. I look over for some help, but the guys are packing stuff up. His gurney isn’t moving just yet as they’re trying to facilitate moving the equipment onto the bottom of the gurney.

“Sure, I’ll walk with you. Let me just put my things under the gurney, okay?” I tell him.

“Okay.”

I bend over and start packing up some of my supplies when I hear a woman’s voice yell out.

“I’m here. Noah, Mommy’s here. Baby, I’m so sorry!” She sounds desperate.

But that’s not what has me shooting upright. She sounds familiar; it’s a voice I haven’t heard in years.

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