Page 7 of Stalkers Anonymous

I nod, rolling up my sleeves. “I’ll be right behind you. I need to assess his injuries before anyone tries to move him.”

Cole climbs with smooth efficiency, using the natural features of the rock face with easy strength. I follow more carefully, focusing on secure handholds rather than speed. My heart is pounding, but not from fear. This is a familiar adrenaline rush.

The same one I get every time the ER bay doors crash open.

The rush of doing my job.

Once Cole reaches the overhang, he turns back toward me and extends a strong, calloused hand. I take it and use his stability to rise higher, situating myself as close as I can without putting too much weight on the unstable ledge. Cole is so close I can feel his warmth on my back, but his proximity gets pushed to the edge of my awareness when I take my first look at Jason.

He appears to be a man in his mid-twenties, slim build, his white skin gone paler with pain and shock. There’s blood seeping from a laceration along his temple where his head hit the rock, and another ugly cut on his right forearm where his very expensive-looking leather jacket has torn open. His right leg is bent at a concerning angle—something of an understatement, since I can see the bone protruding through what used to be a pair of pristine designer jeans.

Somehow—miraculously, idiotically—he’s still clutching his phone.

“Jason,” I say clearly, making eye contact even though he can barely focus on me. He’s going to need a shitload of narcotics to get through this. “My name is Hailey. I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you. Can you tell me where it hurts most?”

“My leg,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “And ribs. Can’t…breathe.”

His rapid, shallow breathing immediately stands out to me—possibly a punctured lung from rib fractures.

“Did Marisa get it?” he wheezes.

I blink. “What?”

“The shot. Did she… Did she get the shot before I—”

“Jason. Focus on me. Can you feel your fingers and toes?” I ask, watching closely for any hesitation in his response.

He wiggles his fingers right away but whimpers when he goes to move his feet. “Left foot…fine. Right…hurts like hell. Fuck.” His voice is strained, each word a short grunt.

“Don’t move it,” I instruct, then turn back to Cole. “We need to secure his neck and spine before we try to move him. I already know his leg is broken, but I’m mostly concerned about any internal injuries we can’t see right now.”

Cole nods, already removing his long-sleeve shirt to create a makeshift cervical collar, revealing a fitted black T-shirt beneath that does absolutely nothing to hide his muscular build. The practical part of my brain registers that he knows general first aid, while the less professional part notices the way his muscles flex as he works. I force myself to push that distracting thought aside, focusing on Jason and his vitals.

“Your pulse is strong,” I reassure him, fingers pressed to his wrist as he begins to shake from the start of an adrenaline crash. “Your breathing is a little labored, but you’re not turning blue, so that’s promising. Jason, is there any numbness or tingling in your arms or legs?”

“No,” he manages. “It just…hurts like hell.”

“The rescue team is about fifteen minutes out,” a high-pitched voice calls out from below. “They’re landing a helicopter nearby.”

I exchange glances with Cole. “It’s safer to wait for the proper equipment and more people to move him,” I say. “We just need to make sure this rock isn’t going to give out. No more weight on it than absolutely necessary.”

“Agreed,” he responds, then turns toward Jason. “Hailey and I are going to hang out with you until help arrives. They should be here soon, so hang tight. You’ll be on your way to the hospital before you know it.”

“Don’t… Don’t let her post it,” Jason mumbles.

“What?”

“Marisa. The video. Don’t let her post it.”

Cole and I make brief eye contact over Jason’s body. His mouth twitches, just barely. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral.

“We’ll do our best, Jason,” Cole says solemnly.

Working together, we carefully secure Jason’s neck with the improvised collar, then use climbing gear and first aid supplies to immobilize his injured leg as best we can. The rescue team will switch everything out for the proper equipment once they’ve got him on stable ground. They won’t be able to work on him up here. Not like this.

Throughout the process, Cole anticipates my needs remarkably well, handing me supplies before I can ask for them and providing steady support when I need another set of hands.

“You’ve done this before,” I observe during a quiet moment.