Page 128 of Look on the Bright Side

“Tell me what to do, Doc,” Dante said.

She looked into his dark eyes, suddenly feeling a lot better. “Always good to have a firefighter around,” she said. “Get that door off.”

The man made another choking noise. “Hang in there, buddy,” he said, putting the crowbar against the bent door frame. “She’s a doctor, and so’s my brother. We’re gonna get you out and fix you up.” He glanced at Lark. “We’ll need a helicopter for this guy. Anyone else?”

“Possible spleen or liver damage in the orange Subaru. Nothing else that seems life-threatening.”

“Can I help?” asked a middle-aged woman with short gray hair.

“Yes,” Lark said. “Call 911 and tell them we need a chopper, and then tie some cloth—a shirt or towel—to the orange Subaru and the gray Audi. The blue Tesla, too. That way, EMS will know who needs help first. If you can find some blankets or beach towels, we’ll be using the side of the road for triage.”

“On it.” The woman nodded and went off.

Dante was doing his best, but it was like trying to open a can with a spoon. She wished she could stabilize the driver’s neck, but they’d have to wait for EMS for a brace. She went to the other side of the cab. Not much room, given the damage to the car. Could she squeeze in there and do an emergency tracheotomy if he stopped breathing? She doubted Lorenzo would fit.

She boosted herself up and wriggled through the window, wincing as the bits of glass dug into her stomach. She made it through and knelt on the sliver of seat that wasn’t obscured by the mangled engine.

“Hang in there, sir,” she said. “Breathe with me, okay? Nice and calm, in and out. You’re doing great.”

He wasn’t. His breath was thick with blood and teeth, and there was possible soft tissue damage in his throat. His face was swollen, the lower part of it misaligned. She gently felt his neck for an obvious deformity, tenderness or swelling. Negative. No apparent head trauma, no bleeding from the scalp.

“You’re gonna be fine. Not what you had planned for today, but we’ve got this.” Her voice was calm and friendly, same as Howard Unger’s always was no matter what the situation.

The man gave another gurgle. It sounded thicker this time. The metal of the door screeched and gave a little, but not enough.

Lorenzo was back. “Got the water bottle.”

“Cut off four inches of the straw and sterilize it,” she said. “Dante, no pressure, but we’re losing his airway here.”

With a massive tug, he bent the door frame back, all the muscles in his arms straining. There was the bottom of his tattoo, the prayer. They’d need it today. The sun was hot. She was thirsty. Words from the other drivers and passengers floated to her—unfuckingbelievable, man, it’s okay, we’re safe, be brave, my dad is gonna be so mad.

The driver’s eyes were rolling, a sign that he was losing consciousness. “Stay with me, sir,” she said. “Hey! Look at me, okay? I’m Lark, did I tell you that? Like the little bird.” The memory of Justin calling her that flashed through her mind. Help us out here, Justin. We need everything we can get. “You’re gonna have a great story about this.” His eyes rolled again. “Sir! Sir? Stay awake, buddy. Look at me.”

He was unconscious. Make friends with death, Dr.Hanks had said.

Fuck that. She was an emergency room doctor. She was fighting back.

“He’s not breathing,” Lark said. “Lorenzo, hand me the box cutter.”

Then there was an unholy screech, and the door popped open.

“Is he stuck?” she asked. “Can we get him out?”

“I think so.” Dante bent and, somewhat miraculously, freed the guy’s legs. Lark held on to his head, Lorenzo slid his arms under the man’s back, and they eased him out of the car and onto the pavement. Both his lower legs were definitely broken, lying crookedly on the pavement.

“Want me to rig up a splint?” Dante asked.

“What’s the ETA on EMS?” she asked.

“Four minutes.”

“His legs can wait, then.”

“Got it,” said Dante. “I’ll go check on the others.”

The man’s face was a gory mess. His nose was smashed almost flat, and she could see his knocked-out teeth and blood in the back of his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” said someone. He was filming.

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