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“Yeah,” I managed.
“Good lass. You hurt?” Davey asked, already working with Callum to find the best way to haul Finn out.
I shook my head. “No, but Finn – my... my partner – he’s been shot. Don’t know where. Not his head or chest though, I don’t think. He’s not breathing, though, and he’s cuffed behind his back; the keys are somewhere on that bastard there.” I nodded in the direction of Michael’s skewered corpse and stifled another sob. Any falling apart would have to wait until later; right now there was work to be done.
“It’s alright, we can take a look at that once you’re both on dry land,” Davey said as he got himself into the best position above us, using a ridiculously calm tone that suggested he dealt with late-night harbourside shootings on a weekly basis. “Do you have a name?”
“I’m Lilith,” I said. “Lilith Bresson.”
“Oh. That Lilith?” Davey asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, that Lilith.”
“Blimey. Right then Lilith, we’re going to crack on and get your fella out of the water. We’ll be as gentle as we can under the circumstances but right now the most important thing is speed, so it might not look like the most graceful manoeuvre in the world.”
Davey and Callum got their hands under Finn’s armpits and hauled him onto the quay, then Davey held me by my wrists and lifted me out to join him. As soon as I was out of the water I tried to turn to look at the two dead men, but Davey reached out and gently turned me to face him. “No. Don’t look at them, They don’t matter now. We’ve got work to do with the living, alright?” he said, and wrapped me in his fleece-lined waterproof jacket, instantly engulfing me in warmth, before kneeling at Finn’s side to feel for a pulse at his neck.
He looked up at me. “Do you know how to do CPR?” he asked, whilst unbuttoning the plaid shirt that he’d been wearing under his coat. Underneath that was a faded ‘Return of the Jedi’ t-shirt that looked like it was an original from the film’s release back in the 1980s.
I nodded. “Did it a few times on my mother.” I refused to think about why he was asking that, or what the consequences might be if I failed this time; I told myself that right now I’d been given a task that needed all my focus, and I knew from experience that I was competent at it. There was no space left for imagining the countless self-indulgent scenarios that might otherwise overwhelm me.
“Good,” Davey said. “So, you’ll remember – one hundred compressions a minute, two breaths after every thirty and if he pukes, get your face out of the way quick, yeah? If you can concentrate on that, I’ll keep an eye on this gunshot wound and see if I can get the bleeding to stop. It’s going to need me to keep constant pressure on it.” He nodded down to where he held his wadded shirt firmly to Finn’s stomach.
As he dealt with Finn he also continued to give his son his orders. “Cal, I need you to bring me the bolt-cutters for these handcuffs – they're hanging on the back wall next to the hand saws – our sleeping bags, some towels, a couple of those battery lanterns and the first aid kit. Get the big one we take on the boat. Oh, and a couple of bottles of water and my flask of tea, alright?”
“How am I meant to carry all that in one go?” Callum asked.
“Use the fishing trolley, son,” Davey calmly replied as he bent Finn’s legs at the knees and positioned his feet flat on the ground. “You can get the contents of our house in that thing, yeah?”
“On it!” Callum yelled as he ran back to their hut.
I shut out the rest of the world and got to work. From the times I had dragged my mother back to consciousness and the final dreadful time that it no longer worked I’d learnt that CPR, when done correctly, was brutal, exhausting, and fucking awful. I knitted my hands together and began the compressions, and when I heard Finn’s sternum creak I knew I could still do it right.
“Don’t suppose you know what he was shot with?” Davey asked as I continued thumping down hard into Finn’s chest. “Doesn’t matter if you’re not sure, like – it's just useful to get as much info as we can to the paramedics as soon as they get here.”
My teeth were chattering so hard it was difficult to speak, partly from the cold and partly from the ridiculous amount of adrenaline flooding my system. “Glock 17, second generation I think? Can’t be sure... Um, that means the bullet was probably a 9mm Parabellum...”
“Well, I was aiming for ‘was it a shotgun or a handgun?’ but that’s definitely a lot more useful,” Davey said. “Time for the breaths now.”
So I tilted Finn’s beautiful head back, pinched his nose, and placed my mouth over his. His skin felt as cold as death as I gave him my breath, and I could only hope that it was from the chill of the water. I had kissed this man every day for nearly a year now and I knew every contour of his face, but I couldn’t tell whether the breath he returned in a soft sigh was his or mine. I started on the next thirty compressions and at the end of them Callum ran back with the bolt cutters.
“Good lad,” Davey said. “Now give us a hand to roll him on his side for a sec, and you get in with the cutters. Quick as you like.” It took Callum no more than a second to cut through Finn’s handcuffs and then I got straight back to work, made a little easier now that Finn’s spine was flat against the stone.
During the next set of compressions I finally found the courage to ask, “How bad?”
“Could be worse,” Davey replied, which wasn’t the answer I was expecting.
“Really?” I even managed a huff of laughter.
“Yeah, really. I know it looks messy, but he’s been hit just under the ribs; the bullet’s gone in through the upper left abdomen and although there’s plenty of blood, if it had hit an artery we’d already have lost him. I’d put a bottle of Jameson’s on all this red stuff coming from his spleen. I mean, don’t get me wrong; it’s nasty and it’s going to hurt like hell, but it’s survivable. Next set of breaths. You’re doing a great job.”
Survivable. I held onto that word like a talisman as my mouth met Finn’s once more.
As I finished the first breath I heard the distant sirens of the emergency services, and at the very corner of my vision I could just about make out the bright blue lights that began to punctuate the darkness.
As I finished the second breath Finn gave a great gurgling cough, and filthy water and vomit erupted from his mouth and nose.
Survivable.
