Not Quite Enough(50)

“We’re at sea level. There was an opening to the cave on the shore. It collapsed with the last quake.”
“OK. I’m dropping a flashlight down.”
“There’s a pool of water directly under the opening.”
“Got it. One, two, three.” The light hit the ground and lit the cavern. Trent grabbed the light, focused it first on Monica. She moaned, but didn’t wake.
He shone his light toward the opening. “Is there a doctor with you?”
“Yes. Dr. Eddy is with us. We need to set up to bring you out. It’s going to take some time.”
Trent watched as another tremor shook Monica’s body. “Listen, Radar.” He thought of the woman above calling out for Monica. “I need to talk to that doctor. And ah, is that Monica’s sister up there?”
“Yeah. The Morrisons are here. I pushed them back. There’s no telling how stable the ground is up here.”
“I need to talk to the doctor. Monica… she’s not well,” he said again.
“Hold on.”
Trent soaked one of Monica’s shirts and placed it over her head as he waited for the doctor to draw near. “Monica,” he whispered. “We’re going to be OK. They found us.”
“Trent,” she said his name without waking.
A few minutes later, Radar lowered a two-way radio in a basket and told him Dr. Eddy had the other end.
“Damn good to hear your voice,” Walt said.
“You have no idea.”
“Talk to me. How’s Monica?”
“She’s burning up. When the opening collapsed, her right leg was trapped under the rock.”
“Is she still trapped?”
“No. We managed to free her, but her leg is jacked up.”
“Bleeding?”
“Not anymore.”
“Is her foot cold?”
Trent touched her foot. “No. It’s warm.” Hot actually.
“What about where she’s cut? Do you see bone?”
Trent had slid her pants off earlier but kept the wound covered. “No. But it’s bright red, swollen. It’s obviously broken.”
“Above the knee or below?”
“Below.”
“OK. Can you wake her?”
He tried again.
She opened her eyes. “Sleep,” she managed to say.
“She opens her eyes,” Trent reported. “Don’t think she’s aware of what’s going on.”
Walt must have kept his hand on the radio because Trent heard every frantic demand on the other side. “Morrison,” Walt yelled.
“Yeah,” Trent heard Jack Morrison’s voice.
“We’re going to need to get Monica to a hospital as soon as she’s out of there. Get a call to Dr. Klein, have him meet me at the airport.”
The radio turned off, but not before Trent heard the panic in Walt’s voice.
Since when did emergency physicians panic?
“Trent, you there?”
“I’m here.”
“They’re setting up ropes and a retrieving basket for Monica. What have you been eating, drinking?”
He fumbled with the radio, felt his fingers stiffen. “Monica had protein bars, some bagged food. We ran out of bottled water two days ago and have been drinking from the pool. Seems fresh enough.”
“Not salty?”
“Tastes like dirt, not salt.”
“No vomiting, GI issues, cramping?”
“No.”
“What about you? Do you feel sick?”
Trent kept a hand on Monica as he spoke. “Headache, a little stiff, but otherwise fine.” For a guy who’s been stuck in a cave for nearly five days, he was perfect.
“Listen, Trent. When they bring up Monica, fill one of those bottles with the water you’ve been drinking, and send it with her.”
Trent’s gaze fell on the pool. “You think it’s contaminated?”
“Won’t know until I have a lab test it.”
Someone above Trent shouted.
“I’m giving the radio back to Radar.”
Radar told him to watch for the basket that would carry Monica out. They were going to test the ground with lighter equipment first, and then lower one of the medics down.
Trent felt helpless as the minutes ticked in painfully slow motion. When the basket finally breached the opening of the cave, he caught it and unlatched the hook. He fisted his hand a few times and dragged it to Monica’s side. Next came a tackle box.
This time Trent couldn’t blow off the stiffness in his fingers. Maybe I’m not so great. He rubbed the back of his neck and watched the rope elevate above him.
Finally, a man dangled above the hole. They lowered him slowly. A few rocks trickled down to splash in the pool. Trent stayed by Monica’s side, talking to her although she didn’t respond with anything other than a moan.
The medic slid out of his harness and moved to Monica’s side. “I’m Miller,” he introduced himself.
“Trent.”
Miller took a quick look at Monica and said, “Damn, Queenie, what the hell happened to you?”
“Queenie?”
“Nickname. Some of us came from California to help search.” As he spoke, he removed one of those blood pressure things and a stethoscope. Miller ducked into his work and spoke into his radio. “Walt?”
“Talk to me,” Walt said on the other end.
“Blood pressure is 170 over 92, pulse 130, respirations 34.” He rattled off her skin color, and several other things that Trent wasn’t sure of their meaning. Miller attempted to wake Monica up, only to see her eyes open but then close.