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The Chaperones

Page 73

by Amy Meyerson

That night, 4:40 a.m.

“On the count of three, we’re going to roll her over and get her on the board,” Sofía instructs as Sam and the two doctors crouch into position. Dave stands, but Sofía holds out her hand. “Dave, I want you to stay back. The best thing you can do right now is shine some light on us so we can see.”

Sofía readjusts her arm beneath Cassie’s neck to keep it immobilized as they flip her.

“One.” Sofía counts as the men shift into position. “Two.” Dave holds a light steady on them. Even with his flashlight and the doctors’ headlamps, Cassie continues to be cloaked in darkness. “Three.”

Swiftly, they rotate her over and place her on the wooden bed.

The two doctors angle their hands under the board, and they begin to carry her away from the water.

“Stop,” Sofía shouts when they are a few feet inland. “Let me establish a breath and straighten her arm before we take her any farther.”

Carefully, they bring the board to the ground. Sofía kneels and shines a light on Cassie’s face, to determine if there’s something blocking her friend’s airway, whether she’ll need to do a jaw thrust. Hair mummies Cassie’s features. It’s so saturated with blood, it no longer looks auburn. Slowly, Sofía peels it away, strand by strand. Beyond Cassie’s broken nose, Sofía doesn’t know what injuries lie beneath that mask of hair.

“Shit,” she says as blood starts to seep from Cassie’s forehead. She’s opened a laceration. Cassie is losing heat along with the blood, but Sofía can’t worry about that right now. She needs to focus on the airway, the breath. At the moment, the blood trickling down her forehead to her nose is little more than a distraction.

The men hover around Sofía, waiting. They remain surprisingly quiet. As she pulls the last strand off Cassie’s face, she silently prays, now that Cassie’s mouth is unobscured, her breath will recover.

“Cas—” Dave says, running toward her. Andrew blocks him. “Can she hear us?”

Sofía finds her flashlight, steadied between her knees, and shines it at Cassie. She gasps at the sight of the blood-covered face, distorted but fully visible now that the hair has been moved.

“It’s not Cassie,” she says.