Page 46 of Dr. Alaska
Time to go. He placed the backboard in the cargo bed.
“Hop in.” He pointed for Lee to climb on top of the flat backboard. When he dropped the EMS bag in front of her, she drew her knees up to fit. “Ready?” he hollered.
“Yes.” The word whipped away in the wind, but he saw her mittened thumbs-up.
Stepping on the runners and gripping the handle bow, he pulled the claw and called out, “Kenai. Ready. Hike!” They lurched forward as all five dogs eagerly lunged into their harnesses, and the sled began sliding over the snowy path.
Lee grabbed the top rail of the cargo bed. This trip was not how he wanted to introduce her to the joy of dogsledding. Normally, he tempered the dogs’ speed, but not today. A short trip to the scene of an emergency meant that after a five-minute moderate warm-up trot, he would let his dogs run at a quicker pace. Through the whipping wind, he peered down at Lee. She had buried her head in the circle of her arms propped on her bent knees. They raced across the meadow and beyond.
Within twenty minutes, snowmachines and men standing nearby appeared from the swirl of blowing snow and low white daylight that made everything flat and colorless.
“Whoa!” he yelled, and Kenai slowed down to a walk.
The team followed suit, then stopped at his command, yapping and puffing in the cold air before lying down in furry napping lumps.
After dropping the snow claw, Mav hefted the EMS bag onto his shoulder and hurried over to assess the situation. Lee, the front of her hat, coat hood, and neck gaiter all rimed with snow, clambered out of the cargo bed right behind him, hauling the backboard with her.
Five upright snowmachines were parked in a line on the side of the trail. The sixth snowmachine rested upside down with Nick lying on the ground nearby. His helmet had been removed. At a quick glance, Mav didn’t notice scratches or dents on the headgear.
“How are you, Nick?” Mav began his assessment.
Nick heaved in big breaths, moaning when he moved. “Not great. It’s my leg.”
Airway and breathing? Yes. Mav yanked off his glove and checked Nick’s carotid pulse. Regular and strong.
His primary assessment did not show any overt deformities, but unstable joints and occult injuries weren’t always obvious. Also, one injury could distract from other serious problems. In the cold temperatures, he couldn’t fully expose Nick for a more thorough evaluation. He had Nick wiggle his feet and hands and answer a few questions. Pupils were equal and reactive. Neurologic status grossly intact without deficits. That was good news.
Kneeling, he pressed his bare hands against Nick’s body from head to toe, reaching under his back to palpate the back and spine. When he got to the right leg, Nick yelled.
“Can you get the SAM splint?” he asked Lee.
She knelt and unzipped the EMS bag, digging until she found the moldable splint.
“Did anyone see anything? How fast were you all going?” he asked.
“No idea. The snowmobile must have malfunctioned. You’re liable for this, you know,” Randy sneered. The other men shrugged and shook their heads.
Mav gritted his teeth. “I need to know mechanism of injury. Speed. Direction. Obstacles. Did you hit something, Nick? How did you land on the ground?”
Nick squinted up at Randy then back to Mav. “Not sure. Wasn’t supposed to happen like this—”
“What he means,” Randy interrupted, “is that the throttle got stuck and the machine threw him off right before hitting the tree.” He spat into the snow. “Shoddy vehicle maintenance. Unsafe trail conditions. You should have never let us go out this afternoon.”
What the hell?
At that moment, Mav envisioned his entire business going up in proverbial smoke. Didn’t matter that the men had signed numerous waivers of liability, promising to take responsibility for damage to the vehicles and any personal injuries. Didn’t matter that Mav had warned them about the weather issues this afternoon. The customer’s perception became their reality, and Randy had decided that this whole thing was somehow Mav’s fault.
His business’s reputation would be ruined. No income meant no mortgage payments.
No mortgage payments meant that he was going to lose his family property. Right here with this accident.
Mav pushed back a queasy churning in his gut. Later. He’d deal with the fallout later. Right now, he had to help Nick.
He turned to Lee. “Mechanism of injury, moderate-speed crash without loss of consciousness. Spine precautions before immobilizing his leg.”
She nodded with an unreadable expression due to her hood, sunglasses, and gaiter protecting her face against the wind-driven snow. She positioned the board next to Nick and scooted behind him to provide in-line neck support. As Mav secured the leg splint, Lee murmured questions to Nick as a way to continue monitoring his breathing and cognitive status.
“Let’s logroll,” he said to Lee.
