can't... he's not gonna make it if we don't go.”
Dee felt like time stopped. She knew if she ran the man wouldn’t chase her far. He couldn’t leave his wife alone. Dee could get away. But if she ran away this woman and her baby would probably die.
She didn’t even have to think about it. Dee wasn’t about to leave them.
She opened the passenger door. “Come on, get in.”
The woman pulled herself up into the passenger seat and sat there panting, lips slightly apart. Dee wished she had some water to give her, and wondered at herself, wanting to help the people that were stealing her truck.
Another contraction gripped her hard, and Dee shut the door for her. When it ended, she heard the woman whisper, “I’m sorry,” through the window.
Dee didn’t answer. There were no words for this situation.
The man was done filling the tank and he slid behind the wheel. It was now or never. She showed him the key and said, “Can I at least ride in with you?”
He pulled the gun out and she thought he’d probably never pointed it at a person before today.
“Give me the key.”
She wondered if he could really shoot her. His hand shook but the look in his eyes was steely.
Probably.
She handed him the key through the open passenger window.
“Once I get them home I’ll bring you the truck back. Up to Doc. Kerns’ place, right?”
Dee nodded.
“Honey?” The man used a different tone to address his wife. “It's gonna be okay. God sent us this truck so we could get you to town in time. Just hang on.”
He closed his eyes as he put the key into the ignition. Dee saw his lips form a simple prayer of thanks as the engine roared to life. He put the truck into gear, and his eyes met hers as he turned toward town. There was no apology in them, just the desperate look of a man afraid for the lives of his wife and unborn child.
She watched as her food supply vanished down the road in a cloud of dust.
Dee's first reaction was to walk straight to the clinic and get the truck back. It was at least twelve miles though, and she didn't think she could get there before dark. They desperately needed the food but she needed her Grandpa alive even more. She was worried sick that he'd overdo it if she wasn't there to look after him. Without him, she knew she didn't stand a chance.
A terrifying scene met her eyes when she got back to the farm. The cows had broken through a section of fence and were roaming freely in the road. Out in the pasture she heard Jasper barking and saw Grandpa's bent form.
“Grandpa!” she yelled, and ran toward him. She got there just as he collapsed to the ground.
“Oh no, no, no,” she moaned and sank to her knees next to his still form. “Grandpa, you can’t leave me. You’re all I have.” Dee felt panic rising at the thought of being alone. First her brother left, then her parents. Even Mason. But not Grandpa. She refused to let him go.
Dee turned him over and felt for a pulse. It had been over two years since she'd taken a basic first aid class and at the time she was focused on learning how to help a choking child, not performing CPR. She frantically tried to remember what she knew about heart attacks.
There was no pulse in his neck or chest so Dee positioned her hands over his heart and began to pump. After a few compressions she remembered she was supposed to be counting. “One and two and three and four,” she counted in a singsong rhythm. When she got to twenty-three she remembered she needed to give breaths too. Not too late, she told herself and pinched his nose closed and breathed into his mouth. She distinctly remembered how the manikin’s chest had moved with the breaths. Grandpa's hadn't. She knew there was a trick to it, what was it?
Dee started the next set of compressions, counting aloud and thinking. “ABC,” she said aloud, when it hit her. “Airway, breathing, and compressions.” She tilted her grandpa's head back so his chin was pointing to the sky and
Dee felt like time stopped. She knew if she ran the man wouldn’t chase her far. He couldn’t leave his wife alone. Dee could get away. But if she ran away this woman and her baby would probably die.
She didn’t even have to think about it. Dee wasn’t about to leave them.
She opened the passenger door. “Come on, get in.”
The woman pulled herself up into the passenger seat and sat there panting, lips slightly apart. Dee wished she had some water to give her, and wondered at herself, wanting to help the people that were stealing her truck.
Another contraction gripped her hard, and Dee shut the door for her. When it ended, she heard the woman whisper, “I’m sorry,” through the window.
Dee didn’t answer. There were no words for this situation.
The man was done filling the tank and he slid behind the wheel. It was now or never. She showed him the key and said, “Can I at least ride in with you?”
He pulled the gun out and she thought he’d probably never pointed it at a person before today.
“Give me the key.”
She wondered if he could really shoot her. His hand shook but the look in his eyes was steely.
Probably.
She handed him the key through the open passenger window.
“Once I get them home I’ll bring you the truck back. Up to Doc. Kerns’ place, right?”
Dee nodded.
“Honey?” The man used a different tone to address his wife. “It's gonna be okay. God sent us this truck so we could get you to town in time. Just hang on.”
He closed his eyes as he put the key into the ignition. Dee saw his lips form a simple prayer of thanks as the engine roared to life. He put the truck into gear, and his eyes met hers as he turned toward town. There was no apology in them, just the desperate look of a man afraid for the lives of his wife and unborn child.
She watched as her food supply vanished down the road in a cloud of dust.
Dee's first reaction was to walk straight to the clinic and get the truck back. It was at least twelve miles though, and she didn't think she could get there before dark. They desperately needed the food but she needed her Grandpa alive even more. She was worried sick that he'd overdo it if she wasn't there to look after him. Without him, she knew she didn't stand a chance.
A terrifying scene met her eyes when she got back to the farm. The cows had broken through a section of fence and were roaming freely in the road. Out in the pasture she heard Jasper barking and saw Grandpa's bent form.
“Grandpa!” she yelled, and ran toward him. She got there just as he collapsed to the ground.
“Oh no, no, no,” she moaned and sank to her knees next to his still form. “Grandpa, you can’t leave me. You’re all I have.” Dee felt panic rising at the thought of being alone. First her brother left, then her parents. Even Mason. But not Grandpa. She refused to let him go.
Dee turned him over and felt for a pulse. It had been over two years since she'd taken a basic first aid class and at the time she was focused on learning how to help a choking child, not performing CPR. She frantically tried to remember what she knew about heart attacks.
There was no pulse in his neck or chest so Dee positioned her hands over his heart and began to pump. After a few compressions she remembered she was supposed to be counting. “One and two and three and four,” she counted in a singsong rhythm. When she got to twenty-three she remembered she needed to give breaths too. Not too late, she told herself and pinched his nose closed and breathed into his mouth. She distinctly remembered how the manikin’s chest had moved with the breaths. Grandpa's hadn't. She knew there was a trick to it, what was it?
Dee started the next set of compressions, counting aloud and thinking. “ABC,” she said aloud, when it hit her. “Airway, breathing, and compressions.” She tilted her grandpa's head back so his chin was pointing to the sky and
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