AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She put on an old pair of shorts and a T-shirt which she didn’t mind getting dirty. She pulled her hair up, put her old ball cap on, and met everyone in the kitchen as they prepared to leave. She saw the dark circles under Caitlin’s eyes and knew that there had been no sleep for her.
“Come on, CayCay,” she said, grabbing her coffee mug. “Let’s slay ‘em today.”
But it seemed Saturday would be no more productive than Friday had been. At least they were located just off Ramp 43, and the north side might bring them a bit more luck.
Jenni tried to content herself with casting and re-baiting her hook on those occasions when she did get a nibble, but all in all, it was a very quiet morning on the beach. She was totally lost in thought when suddenly she heard, and then saw, a commotion a few stations away.
Jenni wasn’t sure but she thought she saw someone sprawled out on the sand. Men were hollering for help. Jenni didn’t wait to see or hear anymore. In a split second, she grabbed her bag and ran as fast as she could toward the gathering crowd. As she got closer, she could clearly see the figure of a man on the sand, his rod dropped at a strange angle beside him. People were standing around, but everyone seemed paralyzed.
Jenni went into autopilot. She threw her bag upside down as she got on her knees next to the man. She felt for a pulse on his neck and she listened for a breath. Nothing on both counts. She yelled to a bystander, “Call 9-1-1.”
“We have,” a voice said.
“Then tell them no pulse, no breath, and I’m starting compressions.”
Without hesitation, she began to compress the man’s chest. She was so grateful that the hot weather had meant he was shirtless, and that he fell on a place where the sand was more or less even and hard-packed.
She found the proper spot and then pushed down on him, arms straight, with all her strength, and felt his ribs crack under the pressure.
She began counting out loud to thirty, and then grabbed the pocket resuscitator that she always kept with her and gave two breaths.
Nothing.
She went through the cycle again.
Still nothing.
She knew she had to keep trying.
No one had stepped in to relieve her, so she had to assume she would be doing this on her own.
She was vaguely aware that someone was saying over and over again, “You have to save him. Please. Save him.”
But her concentration was on the count of the compressions and the breaths.
She thought of the songStayin’ Alive,and it helped her keep her rhythm.
She had finished the fourth set when she finally detected a faint pulse. She also heard sirens in the distance but coming closer. Rocking back on her heels, she said to the man who’d been screaming, “He has a pulse. Everyone please, stay away. Keep this area open for the ambulance.”
She kept checking on the victim’s breath and pulse to be sure they were still there. Both were faint but detectable.
It seemed like forever, but it had actually taken the rescue squad just ten minutes to get to them.
As the crew jumped from their vehicle, Jenni quickly told them the situation and how many sets she had done before she detected the pulse.
“OK. That’s excellent, we’ll take it from here,” a young woman said. She and her counterparts were moving the man quickly, and Jenni finally realized that it was a specialized team that worked the beaches. Likely this man would be transferred to an ambulance once they got off the sand.
“I think I cracked his ribs,” Jenni added as they worked to move him onto a stretcher and into the back of their vehicle.
“Better cracked ribs than the alternative,” a young man said. “He’ll be grateful to you in the long run.”
They packed up, and in seconds, they were gone.
The victim’s fishing teammates seemed in a daze as they too loaded up, apparently planning to follow the ambulance to the closest hospital in Nags Head, about an hour north. People were helping them throw their rods and equipment in the back of their truck.
Then, a man walked up to Jenni. She was fairly certain he was the one who’d been expressing absolute panic.
He was shaking, and his voice cracked as he said, “He’s m-m-my oldest brother. He’s Joe. I’m Frank. Frank Ritelli. Th-th-thank you. I can’t believe this. I can’t lose him. His family can’t lose him. I think you might have saved him. Oh, my God.”
