Page 349 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“He’s not waking up—he’s not—” I can’t stop shaking.
“They got this.” Levi pulls me further back as the EMTs drop beside Hart.
I stumble into him, legs dead, heart louder than the music had been.
Flashlights. Zippers. Bags thrown open. Gloved hands on his face. His neck. His wrist.
“Unconscious.”
“No response.”
“We’ve got a pulse.”
They’re moving fast.
Too fast.
I can’t follow it.
One of them tilts his head, carefully. Another slips something under his neck. A brace. White, stiff. Locked in place.
“Stabilize.”
“Possible head injury.”
“Watch his airway.”
He doesn’t move.
Not even a twitch.
They slide a flat, stiff board under him and begin strapping him down.
Chest. Legs. Forehead. Taped. Secured.
“Let’s go.”
“Call it in.”
“He’s stable enough to move.”
His boots thud as they lift him.
His arms hang heavy.
They carry him toward the tent opening.
59: ON THE EDGE OF SILENCE
JADE
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I DON’T REMEMBER the ride. Not who was driving or who was in the back seat.
I remember gripping my phone so hard my fingers went numb.
Not to text anyone.
