Page 118 of One Step Too Far

Kisses. Slobbery. Wet. Panting in my face. The world’s worst breath.

A voice. “Shhh, don’t move, don’t speak. We got you.”

I try to say Miguel’s name. I struggle for Scott, Neil, Bob. I think my lips move.

More kisses across my cheeks, sloppy wet.

“Daisy, stop that!”

Then I fling out my arms and discover a warm, furry form. A fresh tongue bath. I don’t mind one bit.

“It’s okay, Frankie. Just relax.”

Luciana is here, too. I clutch her hand.

Miggy, Neil, Scott, Bob. I try so hard to speak the names. Maybe I succeed. It’s hard to know.

I’m moving. Lifted from the ground, carried through space. My shoulder screams; my entire body aches. But I grab onto the pain, hold it close, relish the sensation of still being alive.

“How is he?” Another voice.

“We need immediate evac.”

A sound overhead. The thunder of rotor blades. Chopper.

Our rescue. At last.

—

Lights. Too bright. I open my eyes, then shut them.

Surroundings. Too white. I glance, then look away.

Sounds. Too loud. I hear, then burrow down.

Miggy. Neil, Scott, Bob.

Miggy. Neil, Scott, Bob.

Names I keep thinking. Names I keep saying.

Names I’ll never forget.

—

When I next open my eyes, I find myself in a narrow space, surrounded by white curtains. I’m clearly in a hospital bed and attached to a variety of beeping objects. I have a dim memory of my last medical emergency and instinctively try to rub my shoulder. My hand has too many lines sprouting from it to move.

“You’re awake.”

I blink my eyes a few more times and discover Luciana standing in front of me.

I try to croak out my litany of names, but my throat is too dry.

She seems to understand, pouring me a cup of water, then bringing the straw to my lips. I have to take several long sips before I feel the moisture return to my mouth.

“Miguel?”

“Made it out of surgery. They think they got most of the internal bleeding. He’s listed in critical. Another day or two and hopefully we’ll know more.”

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