Page 3 of Searching Blind

“He’ll be okay,” Lucy replied, her hands never leaving his face. “He’s just a little loopy right now.”

“I’m right here, you know. And I’m not loopy, just...” He trailed off. Even he wasn’t sure what he was. Worn out? Shaken up?

“Concussed, most likely,” the woman suggested. “Do you know your name?”

“Sawyer Murphy.” It came out sounding more like a question than a statement of fact.

“Uh-huh. And who’s the president?”

“Probably some old guy that should’ve retired twenty years ago.”

The woman let out a deep belly laugh that echoed around the room. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. No doubt about it, you’re one tough son of a bitch.”

He looked toward her voice and wished he could put a face to it. He imagined a big, muscular woman who towered over everyone else, with laugh lines etched deep into her face and crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes from years of squinting against the harsh sunlight. “And you are?”

“Beatrice Carter. Friends call me Bea,” she said and held out a hand he couldn’t see.

After an awkward moment, Lucy guided his hand to meet Bea’s.

“Oh,” Bea said, sounding embarrassed. “Forgot about your blindness. My apologies.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, but the movement sent a hot wave of pain searing through his side. He clenched his jaw against it, but he knew they noticed.

Bea’s grip tightened on his hand. “You’re one hell of a stubborn man, aren’t you?”

“Been accused of it a time or two.”

“Good. We’re gonna need that stubbornness if we’re to get everybody safely off this mountain, ain’t that right, Ranger Harper?”

Lucy’s reply was slow in coming. “Yes, we will. All right,” she said like she’d made up her mind about something and drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to stitch you up, Sawyer. It’s going to hurt.”

“Hell,” he said with a lightness he didn’t feel. “You think a little needle will scare me?”

“No,” she admitted, and there was a softness there that made his heart stutter. “But it scares me.”

“Why?”

There was a beat of silence, and he had the feeling Lucy and Bea were exchanging a look.

Then Bea said softly, “I’ll go check in with the others,” and her heavy footsteps faded away.

“Why?” he repeated when Lucy still didn’t respond.

“Because... I owe you my life,” she finally confessed in a whisper.

“Luce—”

“No, listen. I do owe you my life, and instead of repaying that debt, it feels like every time we meet, I’m always putting yours in danger.”

“What debt?” His laugh was a small, pained sound in the quiet room. “And how are you putting me in danger? Did you force me to come up here looking for Pierce? No,” he said before she could respond. “And it’s not your fault my dumb ass decided to play hero and jump under a falling branch.”

“Still,” she protested. “I can’t help but feel?— “

“What? Responsible? Are you going to blame yourself for the earthquake next?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself for the rest of it?”

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