Page 127 of Last Girls Alive
“Yeah,” said Shane weakly.
“Someone’s here. They’re here to rescue us. Help! Help!” she yelled. “We’re here!” She waited but no one responded. “Help!” she yelled again.
“They can’t… hear us…”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you moved and try again. Okay? The important thing is that help is here.”
He nodded and exhaled an agonized breath.
Katie surveyed her area just like she would do if she was out in the mountains or studying the crime scene. Keeping her focus, she did a 360-degree slow circle. It was tight and there were a few obstructions, but she managed.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m being straight with you, okay? Don’t answer, just nod or squeeze my hand if you understand.”
He nodded.
“We’re in a small cubbyhole with only a tiny crack of letting air, which means we only have so much oxygen. But we’re fine for now, okay?”
A squeeze of her hand.
“Let me see if I can move this,” she said. Trying to push or pull the wood amounted to not moving or budging it at all. It was clear that Shane probably had a broken arm, and maybe a shoulder or collarbone too. She didn’t know how bad or if there were compound fractures.
She heard his ragged breathing.
“Shane, stay with me, okay?”
He barely squeezed her hand.
Katie leaned in and could see that he was fading and would be unconscious soon. She needed to find a way out—fast.
Dust trickled down, making the pocket of air heavy and difficult to breathe. Katie coughed and tried to clear her throat but it was becoming worse. She couldn’t stop coughing and suddenly felt woozy so she leaned back and closed her eyes.
* * *
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” called one of the deputy sheriffs. “I thought I heard something. Quiet!”
Everyone stopped working and listened. Silence, but that didn’t deter them as they kept working to pull wreckage away.
“Okay, let’s get Cisco working,” said McGaven to Chad.
“I can work him in a quadrant search. That’s probably the most efficient way in this type of setting.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Hey.”
Chad turned to face McGaven.
“She’s going to make it—if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Katie—she’s a fighter.”
Chad gave a weak smile and turned to hike over to the other side with Cisco. “Okay, buddy,” he said to the panting dog. “We’ve been here before.”
Cisco barked. It was clear that he sensed a heightened urgency.
Chad unclipped the leash. “Cisco, search. Find Katie. C’mon, boy.”
The dog barked again, spun two times and began systematically using his nose to find Katie in between boards, down in crevices, and across the top of piles. He became interested in a certain area, but moved on. The dog worked for about fifteen minutes and seemed tired. Chad stopped the dog and gave him some water.
“Good boy, good boy,” he said.
Cisco’s ears perked up, ears forward, and eyes intense. The black dog was like a statue as he strained his hearing. He began barking—incessantly barking. Some of the searchers stopped what they were doing and watched the dog.
