Jessie flipped through a few pictures on her phone. Most were recent and didn’t contain any images of her sister. But the further she dug, the more she found. All of them were full of life, love.
Now all she had was Monica’s voice on a cell phone.
Jessie called it again, listened to Monica’s voice. The pain in her chest threatened to explode.
She sucked in her lower lip to keep from crying out at the unfairness of anything bad befalling her sister.
Wait.
“Kiki?” Jessie called to the near empty house. Only Reynard’s wife was in the home. Their children had left with a grandparent the day before. Kiki remained behind.
Jessie jumped to her feet in search of the other woman. She found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a crutch under her arm. “Kiki?”
Kiki turned around. “Did you hear something?” she asked, hopeful.
“No. But… what is Trent’s phone number? His cell number?”
Kiki told her the number and Jessie punched in the numbers. The phone went directly to voice mail. No ring.
Jessie dialed Monica’s again. Several rings, then voice mail.
“Her phone is on… still charged.”
“What?” Kiki limped slowly toward Jessie.
“Monica’s phone rings before the voice mail picks up. That means it’s working. And if it’s working maybe the cell company can narrow down where it is.”
Kiki’s eyes grew wide.
The skin on Jessie’s arms prickled with promise. Hope.
Her next call was to Jack.
“Hey, darlin’.” His voice was flat.
“Her cell phone is still working,” she said without a hello.
“What?”
“Monica’s cell still rings before her voice mail kicks in. It’s still charged.”
She met silence on the phone. “Jack?”
“Yeah, wait… are you sure it rings?”
“I’ve called a half dozen times. It rings five times then goes to voice mail.”
“Oh, damn.”
“I’m calling the service provider now.”
For the first time in days, Jessie had hope.
Monica didn’t finish the protein bar before she fell back to sleep.
Trent watched the rise and fall of her chest and prayed for the first time in years. They needed to get out of there… soon. He tried to keep her cool, changing her heat-soaked clothes with cooler ones soaked in the rainwater that dripped from above.
Every so often, he heard something above. He called out each time but didn’t hear anything in response.
When he realized that Monica no longer woke up when he yelled, gut-wrenching fear sank into his blood. He shook her awake twice, and was met with glassy eyes and her saying she wanted to sleep.
At least he understood her. That had to count for something.
As dusk fell on their fourth night, he attempted to turn on his phone only to find the device completely dark.
Hunger took the place of hope, and he sat next to Monica, and placed her head in his lap.
She didn’t wake.
Unable to stay behind at the house any longer, Jessie wore a raincoat and joined her husband. The cell phone company narrowed the phone to a few mile radius. The news came right as the sun set.
Ginger trotted alongside them as they walked along a forgotten road. Reynard had taken the Fairchilds on another road that led to a southern beach. The search and rescue team, Dr. Eddy among them, curled under their rain gear, using flashlights to guide them, and searched for any clue. The rain came in steady sheets now, making the search even more unbearable.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Jack protested.
“You’ve already said that, cowboy. Let it go,” she snapped at him.
She knew Jack was just trying to protect her.
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” she said softly.
He grasped her hand in his as they used the flashlights to light their way.
The radio on one of the firemen’s hips squawked. “Team one?”
“This is team one,” the man said.
“We’ve found the car.”
Jessie froze. Everyone stopped walking. Monica?
The man on the radio gave them directions to their location. Then the man said. “No sign of them yet. We’ve spread out.”
Gaylord, who’d surprised her in his quest to find Monica, was quick to jog alongside the rest of them as they ran toward the second team.
Jessie ran to the Jeep when it came into sight. There were dogs sniffing around the car and walking in different directions.
Reynard was first to talk. “Her phone is plugged in.”
Jessie glanced inside and then turned a three-sixty. “Where could they have gone?”
“They’re searching the shore below. The lagoon is secluded here.”
“Monica?” Jessie yelled at the top of her voice.
Ginger barked.
Somewhere in the dark forest, she heard search and rescue calling out Trent’s and Monica’s names.
Jason walked up to them, his breath short as if he’d run. “The beach is empty. Not even a shoe.”
“They have to be here somewhere,” Jack said.
Ginger barked again, excited over all the activity.
Jessie pet the wet fur of Trent’s dog, and fell behind Jack and the others as they spread out and called to the dark.
Trent jerked awake. His heart beat too fast, his head ached with a throbbing pain so intense his back teeth felt as if a tiny colony of ants had taken up residency and were chewing away at the enamel one layer at a time.
Monica slept in his lap, her body shaking with the fever that violently racked her body.
He stroked Monica’s hair, kissed her hot forehead. “Hang in there, angel.”
As he let his eyes drift closed, again… he heard it.
His body stiffened, he tilted his head to the side. Rain dripped from above and had been all night.
This time when the noise came, he knew what it came from. “Here!” He yelled as he moved Monica’s head from his lap with careful ease. Her head rolled to the side. The pitch black of the cave didn’t allow Trent to see if Monica opened her eyes. “Here! We’re in here!”
He heard a bark. On his hand and knees, he crawled in the direction of the falling water. When he splashed into the pool, he stood and filled the cave with a sharp whistle.
The barking continued, faster… closer.
His stiff hands fisted. “Monica? Monica… someone’s here.”
She didn’t respond.
“Here! Help!” He whistled again, longer, louder. “Help!”
“Trent? Trent?”
He wanted to weep. They’d been found. “In here!”
“Trent?” The voice didn’t sound familiar, but soon there were others.
“Monica?”
“She’s in here.”
Dirt from above rained on him, as did the glow of a flashlight. “Watch out. There’s a hole.”
“Everyone stop,” he heard someone yell. “Back up.”
“Monica? Monica are you in there?” The voice was female and frantic.
“She’s here,” Trent yelled back. “We’re both inside a cave.”
There were shouts of joy followed by the familiar bark of Ginger.
“Monica?”
Trent took a few steps away from the pool, careful he didn’t trip over Monica as he hurried to her side.
“Monica?” The woman’s voice started to edge toward panic.
“She’s here.”
“Why isn’t she answering?”
He hesitated. “She’s sick.” Really fucking sick.
“Trent, it’s Jason.” Hearing his brother’s voice was music to his ears. “Glen and I are here.”
“I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice.”
Rocks from above fell again. Trent leaned over Monica’s frame to keep any from falling on top of her.
“Everyone back! Mitch, tie me off. We have no idea how stable this ground is.”
Trent envisioned the chaos above him. Couldn’t help but wonder how long it was going to take to get them out of there. But holy hell they were going to make it out. Alive.
“Trent, my name is Radar. How far down are you?”
“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.
Another man was lowered into the cave and pushed Trent away from Monica’s side. The only thing he could do was stand by and watch as they worked on her. They started an IV and cut off the bandage on her leg. From the box, they removed gauze, tape… and proceeded to place a quick bandage over her wound. They wrapped something else around her leg, immobilizing it.
“Trent?”
Trent shoved around the medic to see Monica’s eyes open and search for him.
“I’m here.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m here.”
She smiled and looked between the men. The guys working on her tried to talk to her, but she didn’t say anything else before closing her eyes.
Between the three of them, they managed to get her in the basket and secured. Trent looked around the room, and then remembered the request for water. He filled a water bottle and secured it inside Monica’s backpack, which he placed beside her.
He stroked her head again, and then she was being lifted into the air.
Trent held his breath until he knew she was safely aboveground.
“You’re next.”
It took another fifteen minutes for the rope to lower back down to ground level. And by the time Trent made it out, Monica had already been whisked away.
Chapter Eighteen
There came a point where life merged with death in a tug-of-war and the body in between could do nothing but grab a bowl of popcorn and watch. On one hand, death held a peaceful blanket of nothing left but an aching feeling that something was left out of place, something extremely important that needed to be done. On the other hand, there were the clawing nails of pain and anguish that instinctively you knew needed to be felt, to be triumphed over, in order to experience one more day.
That one day would be worth the struggle.
Images floated above Monica’s thin layer of consciousness. Trent smiled above her, his face lit up by the glow of his cell phone. He kissed her, told her they were going to be OK. Then she was floating, and the ceiling of the cave floated toward her and panic set deep inside of her. I’m not done, she yelled at whoever
listened.
Faces floated around her, of those who she worked with and beside, her sister, her brother-in-law… strangers.
Where’s Trent?
The image of him inside the cave, alone, welled up inside her. “He’s in there. Help him.”
Then the water from the giant wave overtook everything and she couldn’t catch her breath.
She fought to find the surface.
Jessie held her sister’s hand throughout the flight. Not once did Monica wake long enough to utter one word that she was OK.
Walt flew with them to Florida where a team was waiting.
Jack kept telling her Monica would be all right. That she wouldn’t allow anything as simple as a broken leg to get the best of her.
“Monica’s tough,” Jack told her.
From Monica’s bedside, Walt chimed in, “We don’t call her the Ice Queen for nothing.”
“Ice Queen doesn’t sound flattering.”
“She’s tough, Jessie,” Walt told her. “She’s going to be all right.”
Yet there was a hint of doubt behind Walt’s eyes.
The private jet didn’t hold the necessary equipment to hold a gurney in place, so they improvised with what they had. The basket that had brought Monica to the surface was strapped into the couch of the plane. They secured an oxygen tank that helped deliver what Monica needed. Dr. Klein had met Walt at the airport with necessary medicine. Even to Jessie, Monica appeared as if she were sleeping and not struggling.
Yet when the constant beep of the monitor that displayed her sister’s heart rate to the doctor slowed, Walt adjusted something… appeared frazzled. When Monica started to lose the contents of her stomach, the good doctor turned white.
Walt tried to hide his unease and mumbled under his breath, cursing the fact that he didn’t have enough of what he needed to make everything perfect for his patient. His friend.
They landed in Miami. A medevac team met them and helicoptered Monica and Walt to the hospital.
When Jessie and Jack arrived at the hospital much later, they were ushered into a private waiting room for the longest hour of Jessie’s life.
Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) Page 16