Page 68 of The Woodcarver's Model
“Fuck. He’s got the crew rifle from the back of the truck,” Marco said.
“Ricky, are you crazy? Put that thing down,” yelled Frank, who was now white with fear.
“You’ve screwed this up from the start, Frank. Now it’s time to let a real man deal with it.”
Rob later remembered what happened next as happening in slow motion and almost absolute silence. Only key sounds seemed to register. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark shape moving silently through the brush to his left. No one else seemed to see it. All eyes were on the boy.
“I said move it. Now!” Ricky yelled.
Everyone stood in silence.
The dark figure moved on, seemingly unconcerned or unaware of what was happening around it as it continued through the woods. There was a crack of brittle wood. Rob saw Ricky’s eyes move to the same spot he was looking at. It was then that Rob recognised the shape for what it was—Mitch!
“Bear!” yelled Ricky. “Bear!” he screamed as he raised his rifle.
“No,” yelled Rob as he dove between Mitch and the gun. Time almost stopped. The sound of the explosion of the gun. The searing pain. He heard Maggie scream as he hit the ground. Rob could taste the soil in his mouth. That was the last thing he remembered as things went black.
No one saw the figure in the woods which ran back into the bush at the sound of the gunshot.
* * * *
Sheila recognised the spray of arterial blood from Rob’s thigh before he hit the ground.
“Somebody get me a first-aid kit,” she yelled as she ran to Rob. “Now!”
She placed her thumbs on both sides of the wound and pressed hard. The wound kept leaking blood, and lots of it. The bullet must have nicked the femoral artery. If it had severed it, there would be even more blood, if that was possible. She shifted her thumbs and the blood flow lessened. There. The bleeding subsided, but she couldn’t keep the pressure up for long. She needed—
“Eric! Get your ass over here.”
Eric pushed his way through the crowd that had formed around Rob. Philippe, with the crew’s first-aid kit, followed in his wake.
“Everybody back up and give us room,” Eric yelled, then knelt beside Sheila. “Holy shit,” he muttered.
Sheila looked him in the eye and whispered, “Keep it together.” She knew that everyone around them was scared. She had to maintain control. In a loud enough voice so all could hear, she firmly said, “Eric, you’re gonna have to use those muscles of yours. Put your thumbs on the outside of mine and push down like I am.”
Eric hesitated.
“Just do as I’m doing and he’ll be just fine.”
Eric mimicked her position.
“Okay. I’m going to remove my thumbs and you slide your two thumbs closer together like I had them.” Eric did as he was told and the transfer went perfectly. “Okay. You’re good. Let me know if you need a break.”
Sheila wrapped the leg as best she could and indicated that Eric needed to keep the pressure on.
Eric’s muscles trembled as he tried to save Rob’s life. His T-shirt darkened with sweat.
Sheila stood. She could hear Ricky at the back of the crowd say, “It was a bear! Did you see it?”
“Bear? I haven’t seen a bear on this island for thirty years,” Sheila said. “We need to get him to a hospital now. Any ideas?”
“We could use the ferry, but I don’t think it’ll be fast enough,” said Frances, her voice breaking as she held back her tears.
“We’re going to have to get him to Nanaimo. Their hospital is the closest with a trauma centre.”
Maggie yelled at Frank, “You—does your truck have a radio?”
“Yeah. Wait…there’s a chopper on its way here for a tour. It could fly him there. What’s the nearest spot one could touch down?”
