style="font-size:15px;"> Loc nodded.
‘Good. Wiggle your toes.’
The young man tried and yelped in pain.
Tom picked up the shears from his emergency kit and cut Loc’s jeans straight up on both sides, and started examining his legs. His right leg was at a distorted angle.
My father pushed me down a flight of stairs fracturing every bone in my leg.
Bec’s voice crowded in on his thoughts. He forced it away as his guilt flared. He’d hurt her badly but he’d had no other choice. It was either hurt her now or hurt her even more later. He couldn’t give her false hope.
He could only offer her friendship. She wanted more than that. But his energies belonged to Vietnam, and finding his mother.
All through the ceremony he’d felt her large, expressive eyes on him. He’d wanted to hide, knowing she could see more than he’d ever revealed to anyone. This callout had been a relief for both of them, breaking up an excruciating situation.
‘You’ve broken one of the bones in your right leg. I’m going to tie your leg to a board and then we’ll carry you to the vehicle.’ He wished he had a Donway splint but all he had was a backboard and some crêpe bandages.
Loc started to shiver, his shoulders shuddering as shock set in.
Tom sighed as he strapped Loc’s leg to the board. The poor guy would be in agony travelling over the rough roads. He couldn’t give him anything for pain because he didn’t want to mask any symptoms of a head injury or a slow bleed into his brain. He didn’t even have any dry clothing for the poor guy. Or himself.
‘OK, we need to carry Loc to the four-wheel-drive.’ Tom stood up and instructed the men, demonstrating how two of them could make a chair with their hands. ‘I will support his leg.’
Rumbling thunder sounded again. A niggling sense of unease rolled through him. ‘on my count.’
Loc groaned as they carried him to the vehicle. Mud stuck to Tom’s shoes, clawing at the soles, sucking at his feet and making walking difficult. They loaded him into back of the truck and Tom inserted an intravenous drip.
‘We can go now,’ he called out to the driver as he taped the drip into place, hanging the bag from the coat hanger clip. ‘Take it easy, though.’
The windscreen wipers could barely keep the rain at bay. Visibility was poor. The truck skidded and slid as they edged toward the village.
It was the longest twenty minutes of Tom’s life but finally they came off the mountain and into the village. They transferred Loc into the waiting ambulance. Tom walked toward the front of the vehicle and was about to swing up into the front seat when he heard a frantic voice calling, ‘Bác s
He turned to see a woman running toward him.
‘You must see my daughter. She is very sick.’
Tom leaned through the open door, back toward the ambulance officer. ‘I need to see this patient. Can you wait?’
Worry lines creased the man’s forehead. ‘The roads are bad, we should go now.’
The woman tugged his arm. ‘She needs a doctor.’
Torn, Tom flicked open his phone. He had a signal. ‘You take Loc to hospital. If I need you back, I’ll ring.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ The driver started the ignition and slowly turned toward the main road.
Tom followed the woman toward the back of the village where the houses nestled against the base of the mountain. He struggled to walk against the gale-force winds, keeping his head down against the rain. Water covered his feet.
The deep rumbling he’d heard halfway up the mountain when he’d been treating Loc sounded louder.
Sounded longer.
Suddenly it didn’t sound anything like thunder. It sounded more like the roar of crashing boulders and cracking tree trunks.
The water that covered the track changed, getting higher and thicker.
Mud.
Moving mud.
His head shot up. The rain-saturated soil was giving way. A wall of mud was rushing down the mountain toward them, bringing everything in its path along with it.
His heart pounded against his chest. Move to higher ground. He grabbed the woman by the arm. ‘Mudslide.’
She pulled against him. ‘My daughter.’
Her hand slipped out of his wet grasp as the wave of mud rolled against him, hitting him at waist height and pushing him off balance.
He heard her scream as a tree trunk hit her, pushing her under. No!
Keep upright.
Trees, boulders, mud and sand swept down in a thunderous roar, swirling around him, knocking his feet out from under him.
Instructions from white-water rafting boomed in his head. Feet first. Protect your head.
With superhuman strength he pushed himself around so his feet were facing down the mountain. Mud sucked at him, threatening to suffocate him. Keep your head up.
Mud reached his chin. He could taste it on his lips.
Death by drowning in mud.
Terror consumed him as every survival instinct kicked in.
I’m here and I love you. Bec’s soft, determined voice called to him. Take a chance with me.
Visions of his parents flashed through his mind, their love for him vivid on their faces.
You’ve been blessed, Tom Bracken.
He caught sight of a coconut palm.
Do not die.
One chance. He had one chance if he could get to the tree. One chance if the tree was sturdy enough to withstand the mudflow.
You’ve woven a dream around a family you wanted to find.
He couldn’t die. He had real people who loved him.
The people who had made him the man he was. People he’d foolishly turned his back on in his quest.
He had Bec. He needed Bec. He wanted a chance with her.
He loved her.
By hell, he was going to live and tell her.
Using his arms and feet, he tried to move against the tide, praying the mud would carry him into the tree, not past it.
