out of here?’
Callum nodded. ‘Get me a basket stretcher,’ he shouted to one of his colleagues. He gestured his head to the side as the stretcher was passed down. She stared at the orange two-piece contraption, watching while he took a few seconds to slot the pins into place and assemble it. It had curved sides, handholds, adjustable patient restraints and a lifting bridle.
‘This is the only way we’ll get the casualties back up the steep embankment. Jump back up, Jess, we need as much room as we can to manipulate this into place.’ A pair of strong arms reached down through the window towards her and she grabbed them willingly. It pained her to leave the little boy’s side, but there wasn’t time for egos or arguments here.
The cold air hit her again as she came back out into the open. If she’d thought standing in the icy water had been bad, it was nothing compared to the wind-chill factor. Her teeth started chattering.
‘How…many more patients?’ she asked the firefighter next to her.
‘We’ve extricated all the adults. There’s another two kids stuck behind the front seat, but their injuries are minor and they’re not in contact with the water. We’ll get to them next.’
‘Has someone looked them over?’
He nodded. ‘Your nurse and one of the paramedics. They had another kid who was submerged. She’ll be in the ambulance ahead of you. We’ve just radioed in.’
The minibus gave another little lurch as the currents buffeted it. ‘This thing had better not roll,’ came the mumble from next to her.
Jess wobbled, trying to gain her balance. She hadn’t even considered the possibility of the bus rolling. That would be a nightmare. There was a tug around her waist, and she looked to the side of the riverbank where one of the rope crew was taking up some of the slack in her line. The stretcher started to emerge through the window. At last. Maybe she’d get a better look at Marcus out here.
Callum’s shoulders appeared. He was easing the stretcher up gently, guiding it into the arms of his colleagues.
The minibus lurched again. Callum disappeared back down into the depths of the minibus with a thud and a matching expletive. The firefighter next to her struggled to steady the weight in his arms, the stretcher twisting and its edge catching her side-on.
She teetered at the edge of the bus, losing her footing on the slippery side.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. She felt herself fall backwards, her arms reaching out in front of her. The firefighter who’d knocked her with the stretcher had panic written all over his face. There was a fleeting second as he struggled to decide whether to decide to grab her or maintain his hold on the stretcher.
What was it that knocked the air from her lungs? The impact of hitting the water? Or the icy water instantly closing over her head? Her reaction was instantaneous, sucking inwards in panic, instead of holding her breath.
The layers of clothes were weighing her down, as were her shoes. She tried to reach for the surface. The water hadn’t been that deep, had it? She was choking. Trying to suck in air that wasn’t there—only murky water. Then the overwhelming feeling of panic started to take over.
CALLUM HIT THE bottom of the river-filled minibus with a thud, the icy water doing nothing to slow the impact. What little part of him had remained dry was now soaked to the skin.
There was a splash outside, followed by some panicked shouts. Callum was instantly swept with a feeling of dread. The jolt had been a big one. Please, don’t let them have dropped the stretcher.
He was on his feet in seconds, his arms grabbing at the window edge above him and pulling himself up onto the side of the bus.
The stretcher was steady, the child safe and being passed along the line. The crew around him, however, was panicking.
‘Where’s her line? Wasn’t she wearing a line?’
Oh, no. His head flicked from side to side, searching frantically for any sign of Jess. She was the only female river-side. Everyone else was safely ashore. They could only be talking about her.
‘Can you see her? Can anyone see her?’
Callum didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. He saw where the outstretched fingers were pointing and jumped straight into the Clyde.
The water closed around his chest, leaving him up to his neck with barely a toehold on the river’s bed. Even after the water in the minibus, being fully submerged in the fast-flowing Clyde was a shock to the system. Every part of his body seemed to react at once. Everything went on full alert, hairs on end, trying to pull heat back into his centre.
He looked around him, shouting at the guys still on top of the bus. ‘Where? Here?’ He pointed to the riverbank. ‘Tell them to pull in her line!’
The Clyde was murky and grey and several pieces of ice, broken from the river’s edge, floated past.
He swept his arms around under the water. He couldn’t see a thing. Not even a flash of the bright green jumpsuit she’d been wearing. The water wasn’t too deep as he was on tiptoe. But he was a good foot taller than Jess, with a lot more bulk and muscle. Even he could feel the hidden currents pulling at his weight.
Every man working on the minibus had been wearing a line—except him. He took a few seconds to follow the lines from the riverbank to the bus, until he located the one that led directly into the river.
The firefighters on the bank were having the same problem. It took a few moments of frantic scrambling to ascertain which line belonged to Jess. They started to reel it in and Callum waded through the water towards it.
There! A flash of green as she was tugged nearer the surface.
He grabbed, lifting her whole body with one arm, raising her head and chest above the water’s surface.
For the briefest second there was nothing, just the paler-than-pale face.
Then she coughed and spluttered, and was promptly sick into the river. He fastened one arm around her chest, pulling her back towards him, supporting her weight and lifting his other arm to signal to the crew to stop pulling in her line.
‘I’ve got you, Jess. It’s okay.’ He whispered the words calmly in her ear. The cold wasn’t bothering him now. There was no heat coming from her body, but he could feel the rise and fall of her chest under his hands. He could feel her breathe.
Relief. That was the sensation sweeping through him. Pure and utter relief.
He always felt like this after a rescue. It was as if the anxiety and stomach-clenching that had been an essential part of his momentum and drive to keep going just left him all at once. More often than that, after a rescue he would go home and sleep soundly for ten hours, all his energy expended. Building reserves for the next day so he could do it all again.
Even Drew understood. And on those nights his little body would climb into bed next to his father and cuddle in, his little back tucked against Callum’s chest—just
