by Ford, Julie
John grabbed Josie’s arm and spun her around before she could reach them.
“Jocelyn, that bus is going to blow.”
Josie yanked her arm away. “There are people on that bus! We can’t just let them burn!” She and John stared at one another, locked in a battle of wills.
Denton reached the passengers who’d managed to stumble out and helped them away from danger, then sat them on the ground again. After checking their pulse, he asked them a few questions.
When he finished he looked up and agreed. “John’s right, Jocelyn. It’s too dangerous. The emergency workers will be here soon.”
Wimps! Josie spun back around and headed for the bus on her own. When she reached the back door, she turned to see John standing back, running his anxious fingers through his hair.
She switched on a flashlight, took a deep breath, and climbed into the smoky interior.
Inside, Josie could barely see through the smoke as she shone the flashlight over bodies, some stirring, some still, along with luggage that looked to have taken a few turns in the dryer. The inside of her nose and throat burned as she resisted inhaling the smoke. Her eyes began to water. When she felt something close weakly around her ankle, she pointed the light on her feet and saw a tiny hand reaching out to her.
With the small child in her arms, Josie stumbled over scattered belongings as she headed toward the dim lights of the jeeps. Outside, John rushed to the smoke-filled doorway and helped her over the threshold. He looked down at the bundle she was carrying. So did Josie. The girl’s eyes were closed, but she was coughing weakly—at least she was breathing.
Looking to be about the age of four, she had dark skin and black curls falling over her face and shoulders. When Josie met John’s gaze, recognition formed in his eyes, and she knew what he was thinking—Beth.
Taking the little girl from Josie and handing her over to Denton, John shouted, “We’ve got to get those people off that bus, now!”
“Hold on. Let me go in.” Denton had the girl on the ground. She was sitting up and a woman now exiting the bus on her own rushed over, taking the girl in her arms, repeating, “Mi Hija,” over and over.
“I can tell which ones we can help and which ones we can’t, to save time,” Denton said. Josie and John looked at him uneasily, the gravity of the situation now sinking in.
“Josie and I’ll go in and send the ones that are alive back out,” Denton said. “Ya’ll stay out here; move everyone away from the bus.” Denton turned to Josie. “You ready?”
“Yes,” she said, but inside her body quaked. While she didn’t want to go back in, she couldn’t just stand back and watch, hoping the emergency workers made it in time.
Back inside, the smoke had thinned. The passengers, mostly Hispanic-looking, but some Caribbean, stirred slowly as Denton checked for injuries the best he could. Josie’s heartbeat assaulted her ears while she tried unsuccessfully to steady her shaking hands.
One at a time, the passengers filed out, hobbling and moaning, some on their own, others being helped by Denton or herself. John and the others shuffled the survivors away from the bus and closer to the road.
“Go! Go!” Denton’s frantic voice was commanding as he exited the bus, holding a lifeless man by the shoulders. Josie had his feet. Laying him down on the ground, Denton tilted the man’s head back and leaned over, checking his airway.
“He’s not breathing.”
Pressing two fingers to his neck, he said, “No pulse.” Then, looking down at Josie, he asked, “You know CPR?”
Josie nodded her head. She knew it, but hadn’t ever used it. Positioning his hands on the man’s chest, he started counting off while Josie moved up to the man’s head, ready to administer breaths.
When Denton got to fifteen, Josie leaned down and gave the man two long breaths.
“A little harder, I don’t think his chest’s rising enough,” Denton said, starting compressions again.
After moving through three cycles of fifteen compressions and two breaths, Denton and Josie switched places. With his fingers to the man’s throat, Denton said, “A little harder, I can barely feel his pulse.” Josie responded by increasing her effort.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, while her arms and shoulder muscles ached from the compressions as she attempted to pump his heart. While Denton performed the breaths she pushed her sleeves up, knowing that CPR could only do so much. The man needed a defibrillator.
Come on, breathe!
After a few more cycles, they were both getting tired and ready to give up, but a woman, sitting off to the side, rocking and crying while fingering her rosary beads, kept them motivated. When Josie leaned down to administer two more breaths, miraculously, the man coughed up into her face, and Josie jumped back, falling onto the ground. Denton rolled the man over onto his side.
Two emergency vehicles, sirens blaring, finally made an appearance on the road.
Another small explosion erupted from the engine of the bus, and the flames moved to the front tires.
“Get everybody back!” John yelled, coming over to help Josie up from the ground. “Good work,” he complimented, smiling at her.
With everyone at a safe distance from the burning bus, Denton, Josie, John, and Patrick donned latex gloves from the first-aid kits and helped the paramedics clean wounds and bandage, while Amy and Andy handed out water bottles. Running on adrenaline now, Josie could feel her pulse beating against her throat as she knelt in the cold dark sand and pressed a blood-soaked piece of gauze firmly to the head of an old black man with a massive wound. The bleeding had stopped but the paramedic had asked Josie to keep applying pressure while he ran back to the ambulance for more supplies. A cool breeze whipped up from the ocean, chilling her moist skin and causing goose bumps to form on her bare legs and forearms.
“Please, you help me?” a little Caribbean woman, bandaged and waiting to be transported to the hospital, repeated again and again in broken English. But Josie couldn’t release the pressure she was holding on the man’s head. With everyone engaged in one task or another, she looked around for someone who could help.
“Trisha, can you come down here for a second and just hold this bandage?” Trisha and Lydia had been standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching.
“No—I’m not touching that man.” Trisha shook her head. Her tone sounded like Josie just asked her to do something disgusting. “I might catch something. You don’t know where that man’s been.”
“Put on some gloves.” Josie motioned over to the first-aid kit lying on the ground. “They’re in that red box.”
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” Trisha looked offended. “Why should I risk it? How do you know those gloves are giving you the protection you need?”
“I don’t. But if I don’t help, he could die.”
“That’s not my problem.”
* * * *
“Here, Jocelyn, I got it,” John said. Kneeling next to her, he pressed his gloved hand to the man’s head, allowing Josie to release hers.
“Thanks, I’m going to check on that lady. I’ll be right back,” she said.
Only a few feet away at the time, John had overheard the whole conversation. When Josie moved away, John looked up at Trisha. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he said, feeling as if he were speaking to a stranger.
Nostrils flaring and face flushed with embarrassment, she turned away from his disapproving eyes. He looked away as well. Suddenly, she was the most repulsive woman he’d ever seen.
Three more pops, and the whole front of the bus burst into flames, followed only seconds later by a blinding flash of light. The force of the explosion knocked everyone back. John and the others shielded their faces, watching helplessly as the engine exploded, shooting flames that reverberated through the entire bus. Metal, glass, and debris flew through the air.
Regaining his balance, John scanned the terrain to see if everyone was still all right. He looked around quickly when h
e realized he didn’t see Josie. A moment later the paramedic returned with his supplies, telling John he could release the pressure.
John got to his feet and yelled, “Jocelyn! Has anyone seen Jocelyn?” His voice was anxious, eyes straining to focus against the low light and smoke.
“The bus.” The old woman who’d been calling to Josie just minutes before was pointing at the bus. “My purse, my money, she back in bus.”
John moved over to her. “What are you saying? Jocelyn went back into the bus?”
“Bus, bus,” the woman kept repeating.
“No,” he whispered, gazing back at the inferno. John felt panic setting in, as he looked around again, and didn’t see her. “Andy, Denton, do you see Jocelyn?”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and started looking around. John could hear voices asking, “What’s going on?” Others saying, “Jocelyn’s missing; she went back into the bus.”
John’s breathing increased, moving deeper and faster, with every second that he searched the faces of the passengers and rescue workers, looking for his wife.
“Here! She’s over here!” Andy called out, kneeling next to something on the ground.
“Don’t move her.” Denton ran over, arriving at Josie’s side just before John.
Over Denton’s shoulder, John could see that Josie was lying face down and wasn’t moving. Her hoodie was torn from flying debris and splattered with blood. Denton knelt on the ground and checked her pulse before running his fingers down her vertebrae.
“She has a pulse, but it’s weak. Get a paramedic over here, now!”
“Is she going to be—” John dropped to his knees next to Josie. The sight of his wife’s motionless body covered in blood had choked off his air.
A paramedic rushed over and ordered John out of the way. “Let’s turn her over—you support her head,” he said, “real easy.” The medic and Denton slowly rolled Josie onto her back and the paramedic carefully applied a brace around her neck. Josie’s face was scratched and bloody, her palms were deeply scraped and bleeding. Beneath her chest, an old tattered purse was exposed now that they’d moved her. John picked it up and stared at the mangled handbag.
“Her pupils are responding, but her pulse is thready,” the paramedic told Denton. “She needs to get to the hospital, but all the ambulances are full,” he continued while pouring some saline over the wounds on her hands.
“We can drive her,” Patrick offered.
The others came over, encircling the scene, watching in worried anticipation as Denton and the medic worked on Josie’s limp body.
“Right.” John hopped up. “Can I move her?”
“No!” snapped the paramedic. “She could have a spinal injury.”
John wanted a second opinion. “Denton?”
“The reflexes in her hands and feet are responding, but that could simply mean her spinal cord’s okay. Doesn’t mean her column’s good.” He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “We shouldn’t move her without bracing her first.”
“We’ve already used the spinal boards,” said the paramedic.
John thought for a moment. He couldn’t just leave her out here waiting for another ambulance. Handing the woman’s purse over to Andy, he searched around for something to use to immobilize his wife. The paramedic eyed him, then said, “Pieces of wood, a car door—anything rigid and flat…flattish.” He began looking around, too.
Patrick worked it out. “The beach chairs!”
A few minutes later they’d contrived an arrangement of aluminum tubes and beach towels. Carefully Josie was dragged on to it and secured down. Denton and John hefted the makeshift stretcher and walked over to one of the jeeps. They arranged her on the back seat.
Patrick reached for the keys. “I’ll drive.”
“No!” John protested. He was desperate to get Josie to the hospital.
Amy blocked the driver’s side door. “John, don’t be ridiculous. Let Patrick drive. You’re in no condition.” She gave him a staid look. “Let Patrick drive. You keep an eye on Josie,” she persisted. “We’re not letting you drive. You’ll likely kill the both of you. Think about your kids, John.”
He hesitated at the thought of his children losing their mother and their father. Amy backed away. She nodded at Patrick.
Denton called out, “Keep your speed down and be careful! It might only take one bump to paralyze her!” He rushed off to see about helping the other victims.
Twisted around to the back of the jeep, John kept a hand on his unconscious wife. His chest constricted, pressing on his aching heart. John choked back tears of regret—but not for long. And, as the tears finally began to stream down his smoke-soiled cheeks, he whispered, “Stay with me.” He could barely see her face in the darkness. “You can’t leave me Jocelyn, not now,” he quietly begged.
Chapter 10
Some hours later, Josie struggled to keep her eyes open as John wheeled her through the front doors of the resort and into the lobby. Outside, the first signs of dawn lightly flickered in the eastern sky. For Josie, most of last night was a blur, with only faint memories of arriving at the hospital, and John yelling for someone to help. Then, when she woke, he was there again, smiling down at her, the rims of his eyes red with tears. What was it I wanted to say to him?
The dinging of the elevator doors brought Josie back to a little more wakefulness, and she realized that she must have fallen asleep again. Looking up at John, wheeling her chair down the hall, she asked, “Did that lady get her purse back?”
“Yes, Jocelyn, she did,” he said with a sigh.
“Did I ask that already?” Josie’s eyes were getting heavy again.
“About a dozen times, and we got everyone out all right too,” he said, but Josie’s eyes had already closed again.
* * * *
Inside the room, John closed and locked the door. Then, rubbing his tired face, he regarded Josie, thankfully still in one piece, while his mind replayed the events of the night before. After they’d arrived at the small island hospital, and Josie was rushed into an examining area, they had to literally drag him out when he refused to leave her side.
The last time he had taken his eyes off her, she was blown out of a bus.
A little while later, Denton had arrived with the first batch of victims from the accident and disappeared through the swinging double doors to help out with the injured and to check on Josie’s status.
When Denton re-emerged, dressed now in blue scrubs, the long night apparent on his face, he had told them that Josie sustained a minor concussion, a couple of slightly cracked and bruised ribs, some deep abrasions on her palms, and minor cuts and bruises. No spinal damage but a little whiplash from the force of the explosion.
“Can I see her?” John had felt desperate to see for himself that she was all right, that he hadn’t lost her.
“Sure, but I gave her a pretty strong sedative that’ll likely knock her out for a while. She’s sleeping for now. We want to keep her a couple more hours for observation because of the concussion, but then you can take her back to the resort, as long as you keep a close eye on her.”
“So, she’s going to be okay?”
“As far as I can tell.” Before heading back to his patients, Denton had put a hand on John’s shoulder and said, “You’re a lucky man. You take care of her. Hear me?”
* * * *
John took another look at Josie. Her feet and hands were dirty, her hair bloody and matted. With a sigh, he wheeled her chair into the bathroom. Then, seeing his own smoke-stained face and clothes in the mirror, he turned on the shower and undressed. After removing Josie’s hospital gown, he carefully slid his arms around her body, and then lifted her up to standing and into the shower.
Supporting his weak and extremely sleepy wife with one arm around her shoulders, John used the other to gently wash her body and hair the best he could. He shuddered when he felt the cuts on her scalp and back from the flying debris. As he moved his hands over her
body, he recalled fond memories of a time when he and Josie used to take every opportunity to shower together. Now, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her naked, or the last time he even wanted to.
To keep her close, John continued to hold Josie while he started on his own grimy self. With his head directly under the overhead water stream, rinsing shampoo out of his hair, he felt Josie nestle her cheek into his chest, while her arms tightend their weak grip around his waist. She mumbled quietly.
“What’s that, Jocelyn, did you say something?” John moved his head out from under the water and looked down at her.
“This is nice. We should do it more often,” Josie muttered absently, as if, she were talking in her sleep.
“We will,” John said, kissing the top of her head. “I promise…we will.” He planned to do a lot of things different from now on.
With both arms supporting her, John stayed in the shower, swaying softy as the warm easy water washed away what was left of the night before. When his own eyes became heavy, he helped her out of the shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and one around Josie, he dried her off and helped her dress in a tank top and panties, before she collapsed down onto the bed. Pulling the covers up, he tucked her in securely.
After slipping into a pair of boxer shorts, John climbed into bed next to his wife. He held his eyes open as long as possible, watching Josie’s chest rise and fall with each breath until his lids become heavy, and he too, drifted off to sleep.
In the eastern sky, the sun had risen, bringing with it the light and hope of a new day.
* * * *
The ringing of the phone roused John from a deep slumber with a start. Immediately, his focus turned to Josie. Seeing that she was still breathing, he lay back and allowed the phone go unanswered until it finally stopped. A few moments later, when the ringing started up again, he dragged himself up to sitting, and making his way over to Josie’s side and the phone, he stubbed his toe on the wheelchair in the process. Swearing and hopping on one foot, he shoved the wheelchair across the room, sending it to a crashing stop at the opposite wall. On the other end of the line, Carol was frantic.