The Rainbow Maker's Tale (19 page)

Barely able to speak through my
clenched teeth, I managed to utter: “once I get you higher, you can
grab onto the ledge with your good arm.”

Cassie nodded: a single, small
movement.

It was enough for me and I
pulled as hard as I could, trying lever myself backwards using the
flat rock beneath me to drag her higher.

On the first attempt Cassie
barely moved. My arms scraped across the rock edge, ripping the
material of my day-suit even more and tearing into my flesh.
Ignoring the new burst of pain, I pushed myself onto my knees and
found that this position gave me greater purchase and allowed my
leg muscles to help me lift so it wasn’t all in my arms. Digging
in, I heaved even harder. This time Cassie rose several centimetres
higher.

From then on my eyes never left
Cassie’s face: I watched her fighting to remain conscious; holding
back the screams that I could only imagine were threatening to
burst out of her body. As her fingers passed above the edge of the
rock for the first time, she reached upwards with her left arm and
found a handhold on the rock lip. Her knuckles turned blue-white as
her fingers gripped, claw-like around the edge of the plateau.

Once again Cassie’s eyes found
mine and I nodded to let her know I was ready. It would take both
of us to do this now. Sucking in a deep breath I tugged firmly on
her arm. At the same time she pulled hard against the rock, her
left hand levering her body upwards. With Cassie helping me, my
actions became much more effective and she shot forwards, her
scream of determination blending with my own exhausted grunt. As
her shoulders and upper body re-appeared I took hold of her left
arm and pulled her nearer, getting a grip on the back of her
day-suit. With one last tug, I stood up, hauling Cassie’s legs to
safety as I went. A second later I staggered to the side and
dropped to my knees.

Cassie’s small body lay
motionless beside me. If it were not for the low, shallow breaths
dragging into her chest every now and then I would have thought she
was dead. She was unconscious.

A single trickle of blood
seeped from a wound buried in her hairline and ran across her
temple onto her cheek. Her arms were worse: the normally pale skin
now looked a sickly green-white beneath the large smears of blood.
Amongst the red were darker, black patches where she had been torn
by deep scratches and cuts.

I felt numb and sick and
helpless. A random part of me also felt grateful, for the physical
enhancements I made a few weeks ago. Without them I wouldn’t have
caught Cassie, or been able to pull her to safety. Without the
benefit of pain suppression, I might have dropped her… Perhaps, I
also reacted faster than I would have done before…? There were many
questions, but no clear answers. They would have to wait.

A short while later – seconds
or a minute at most although it felt much longer – the shock faded.
Another burst of adrenaline kicked through my system and spurred me
into action. I was not hurt, although the muscles in my shoulders
and arms burned from their recent exertion, and so I moved quickly,
beginning an examination of Cassie’s injuries.

Check the head wound first,
then look for any bleeding
.

I tried to remain calm and
remember the emergency training I’d taken at The Clinic.

Without moving her, I gingerly
probed the gash beneath Cassie’s hair, lifting the blood-red matted
strands away so I could see properly. I tried not to inhale the
coppery smell that overpowered the citrus fragrance I’d noticed
earlier. Seeing the blood of someone I cared about, seeping out of
their damaged body was so much worse than practising on strangers.
My hands were bathed in red and the sight of it made me sick.

Shaking my head, I attempted to
focus. The abrasion was still bleeding, but did not look deep. I
wondered vaguely whether Cassie had banged into the underside of
the rock shelf as she fell… I moved on without really trying to
answer my own question. Around the edges of the cut, the thin layer
of flesh that stretched across Cassie’s skull was already swelling
and I knew she would have a painful lump. Thankfully, it did not
look too serious and I was sure it was not the reason she had
blacked out.

I glanced towards Cassie’s
right arm. It was angled oddly away from her body, the forearm
pointing upwards. I was positive it was dislocated.

De ja vu
.

A similar image of another
girl, in this same park flashed before my eyes. There was no blood
on that girl, but the unnatural position of the limbs was almost
identical.

“Cassie?” I asked softly,
hoping for, but not anticipating, a response. I got what I expected
and continued my examination. “Please Cassie – if you can hear my
voice…Cassie, please show me if you can hear me…”

I’m so sorry I brought you
here…this is all my fault…

“…not your fault.”

It was just a whisper: words
uttered on a breath of air, but I was sure I’d heard them. My gaze
snapped to Cassie’s face, but her eyes were still closed, her lips
frozen. Had she spoken to me? Had she answered? It sounded like she
said
“not your fault.”

“Cassie?”

There was no response. Her
breathing was becoming more regular, though. At least I thought it
was, perhaps it was hope colouring my assessment more positively,
as there was still no obvious movement from her.

Ripping away a clean piece of
fabric from the back of my ruined clinic-suit I pressed it against
some of the darkest patches on Cassie’s arms, soaking away the
blood to try and see how bad the damage was. The cuts were messy
and still bleeding, but none of them looked deep enough for
stitches. A couple of them were long gashes and I tore away more
fabric to wrap around them to slow the blood flow.

It was not good that she was
still unconscious – how long had it been now…three minutes…five? I
couldn’t tell and felt panic welling up as my mind started running
through the possible extent of her injuries: paralysis, coma, brain
damage…

I shouldn’t have brought you
here…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…

Pressing my fingers lightly to
the side of her neck into the hollow below her jaw-line I searched
for a pulse. It was light and irregular.

Please be OK…it’s all my
fault…I’m sorry…

“Cassie? Can you hear me –
Cassie?” I implored, my voice louder than before.

“…I’m trying…stop being
sorry”

This time I saw her lips
moving. Cassie
was
muttering. Her words might be slurring
together, barely discernable, but she was definitely talking.
Telling me to stop being sorry. Had I actually said that aloud?

“Cassie…Cassie?” I was becoming
desperate – I wanted to take hold of her shoulders and shake her to
wakefulness, to prove that she was alive, but I couldn’t do that.
She looked so fragile and broken already; she would probably fall
apart.

Can you even hear me?
I
pleaded, moving my lips closer to her ears. “Cassie?”
I’m
sorry…I need you to come back…

A sigh passed through her lips.
At first I thought it was just her shallow breathing still, but
then it was followed by a light groan. “I’m coming…I’m coming…”

What was she saying? It sounded
as if she was dreaming, rather than responding to my voice. Her
words didn’t really make sense. I was sure she’d said
I’m
coming
. But, I hadn’t asked her to come back…I’d only wished
it, only thought it.

“Cassie,” I leaned closer
still, searching for more signs. Her eyelids flickered but remained
closed as though she was struggling to fight off unconsciousness,
but trying hard. Her eyelashes fluttered – more forcefully this
time.

“Cassie – can you hear me?”

More movement: she was coming
round. A loud groan creaked out of her throat, as she became aware
of the pain. “Shhhhh,” I stroked the hair gently away from her face
trying to soothe her. In the next moment Cassie’s eyes blinked
rapidly, suddenly opening wide and then closing quickly against the
shock of the daylight.

“It hurts,” she whispered, her
voice cracking over the words

The sound of her voice! My
chest flooded with relief.

“Cassie! Thank goodness!!” I
shouted the words realising, too late, how close I was to her ear
and half-deafening her.

“Too loud,” she complained
weakly, her eyes still closed. When she opened them – squinting
into the light – I felt her gaze searching for me and leaned close
once more, trying to shield her from the brightness. Cassie
examined me thoroughly as though
I
was the injured person,
before shutting her eyes again, grimacing as if it hurt her just to
move that small part of her body.

“You look awful,” she
muttered.

I laughed – half-bitter,
half-relieved. Apart from the relief, which filled me like oxygen,
I felt empty – completely drained – now the adrenaline was leaving
my body.

“You know, you don’t look so
great yourself right now.” I tried to put her at ease, but the joke
fell flat. My eyes were burning with tears of shock and happiness,
but I was determined not let them fall. What would she think of me
if I cried?

Then – to my disbelief and
horror – Cassie started trying to roll over.

“Can you help me up?” she
asked, her voice sounding more normal every time she spoke.

“Hold on a minute, don’t move,”
I reached forward, pulling her gently back. “We need to make sure
you don’t do any more damage. Your shoulder is a real mess.” There
was only one sensible option and I knew it. “We’ll have to get you
to The Clinic to get everything checked over. The one in the Red
Zone is closest, so we could go there…” That was going to be a
difficult conversation: how to explain where we’d been without a
lot of unwanted questions. But that didn’t matter – I’d have to
deal with the consequences later – Cassie needed treatment.

I was surprised when she shook
her head. “That’s not a good idea. There’ll be lots of questions
and they’ll contact our parents. It’s not worth it.”

“What do you suggest?” I argued
back immediately, ignoring the fact I’d just been thinking exactly
the same thing.

I knew I shouldn’t be angry
with Cassie – I wasn’t really – I just felt useless. It wasn’t like
I had any ideas of my own, but the events of the last few minutes
had left me an absolute wreck. I tried again.

“You can’t walk around with a
dislocated shoulder – I think people will notice.” It wasn’t my
best attempt: I came off sounding more sarcastic than
concerned.

“You can do it,” Cassie
said.

For a moment or two I had no
idea what her words actually meant.
Did she want me to go for
help and bring them back here?

Then I realised what she was
saying. She wanted
me
to realign her shoulder. The shock of
that idea had barely registered with me, but she was already
talking again.

“You’ve done your first couple
of modules in the Emergency Medicine rotation.”

I was incredulous. Cassie spoke
as if she was asking me to take a look at a splinter in her finger.
“Are you kidding?!” There were just no other words for how stupid
an idea it was. “Your shoulder could be broken, not dislocated, or
even both! I can’t do that – I could hurt you even more!”

“You just pulled me over the
edge of cliff!” she retorted with a scoff, “I’m sure you can do
this. Joel and I did the basic training for Field Medicine on the
second day of our rotation.”

Yeah, well – I’m sure Joel
would be the perfect person for this situation…

I shook my head to silence the
jealous voice because it wasn’t helping. There was being brave and
there was just plain stupid. I might be feeling shell-shocked from
everything that had happened in the last few minutes, but I was
pretty sure that what Cassie was suggesting was the latter of those
two things.

“Two days of Field Medicine
training does not quite match up with a clinic full of equipment
and trained Medics.” I didn’t bother disguising my feelings.
Perhaps I spoke more harshly because – despite my words – a small
part of me agreed with Cassie’s motives for trying to keep this a
secret.

Of course, Cassie was right: we
would get into a lot of trouble for coming here, no matter how good
an excuse we found for how she got injured. The scanner at the park
entrance would have logged us coming inside and so even if we lied
about where Cassie had gotten hurt, they would still probably
investigate here. I had too much history in this place; literally
too many
secrets
buried in the park, to risk losing it. But
those secrets were my reasons – not hers.

Why was she so concerned with
being examined properly?

“You can do it,” Cassie
insisted, interrupting my thoughts and searching my face until she
found my eyes and fixed me in an unwavering, emerald spotlight. If
nothing else, her determination was persuasive. “You
can
do
this,” she repeated, as though sensing I might waiver if she was
convincing enough.

Pushing aside my own selfish
concerns – as well as the questions I had about what had happened
when Cassie was unconscious – I paused to consider her request.
Could
I do this?

Self-doubt was not something I
was too familiar with – conceited I know – but I’d always just
seemed to know what I was good at, and been able to sense where my
limits lay. If we were in The Clinic and it was someone else, I’d
probably be jumping at the chance to test my skills. This was
different. We didn’t have the luxury of diagnosis equipment,
medicines or experienced teachers to help. And it was Cassie. The
thought of doing this – doing anything that might hurt her – made
me feel physically sick.

Before I made my decision I
needed to know that Cassie understood what she was asking me to do.
“What if it’s not just dislocated?” My voice lost some of its
conviction as Cassie was already brushing off my protest before I’d
finished speaking. Maybe I could appeal to her practical side… “You
should have a bone scan and some pain relief before anything is
done. I don’t even like the idea of moving you from here in the
first place – maybe I should just go and call for an emergency
team?”