Lydia was half-sprawled across the passenger seat.Blood soaked her shirt, matted in her hair, and pooled into the footwell.It was too much blood.
Her chest barely rose, with shallow, stuttering gasps, like each one might be her last.
Finn checked her pulse.‘Brodie.Open the back of the troopy.Now.’
Finn slid an arm under Lydia’s legs and lifted her off the seat.She was limp as if boneless.
‘Clear out the ropes, unroll that spare swag in the back for me to lay Lydia down,’ he barked out to Brodie.‘Then grab the towels off the line.We need to slow down the bleeding.’
Brodie limped into motion, wrenching open the troopy’s rear door with his good arm.He half-fell into the back, dragging the ropes aside and unrolling the mattress, to limp away for the threadbare towels waving from the verandah.
Finn laid Lydia down in the back.‘Hang in there, Lydia.It’s going to be okay.’
She let out a small, pitiful sound like a whimper that didn’t reach her throat.
Brodie returned, clutching a bundle of old towels.‘Here, Finn.’The wince on his face gave him away.His left arm hung low, while more blood trickled steadily from a gash at his temple.The kid was barely on his feet, but he was still trying.
Finn didn’t waste time in the race against the clock as each pump of Lydia’s heartbeat was slowing down.
‘Get in.Keep pressure here.’He guided Brodie’s trembling hand over the worst of Lydia’s wounds, just below her ribs that had to be broken, with signs of internal bleeding.‘Don’t let go, you hear me?You let go, she bleeds out.’
Brodie’s eyes widened as tears and sweat streaked through the dirt and blood covering his face.
Finn ripped another towel into strips and wrapped a strip tight around Brodie’s head to stem the bleeding from the deep gash.He then fashioned a makeshift sling for that wrecked arm.
The kid cried out, biting down hard on the pain as Finn secured his arm.
‘I’m so sorry, Finn.It—’
‘Mate, tell me on the way.Just get in, hold onto her tightly, and both of you stay with me.’He slammed the back door shut, leapt into the driver’s seat, and gunned the engine before peeling off in a cloud of red dust.
The troopy tore down the dirt road, gravel spraying out from behind the tyres, as the engine howled through every gear.
Finn flicked on the radio sitting on his dashboard and barked into the mic.‘This is Sergeant Wilde on route to Elsie Creek Hospital.Two patients—one critical.ETA ten minutes.Have a trauma team on standby.Over.’
Comms got the message.
He tossed the radio aside, then slapped the magnet-mounted LED light onto the roof—red and blue strobes bright enough to scatter kangaroos for miles.The siren was already screaming under the dash, just a few short bursts to clear any other critters thinking about crossing the road, because this was an express ride to town.
He glanced in the rear-view mirror.‘What the hell happened, Brodie?You should’ve gone to the hospital.’
‘I wanted to.I was going to—’
‘It was my idea.’Lydia’s voice was barely more than a breath.
Finn almost missed it and turned off the siren.But he left the red and blue strobe lights flashing against the gum trees, painting twisted trunks in bursts of colour, casting long, jumping shadows across the dirt.On a deserted outback road, it looked like the bush itself was pulsing with alarm.
Again, he checked the mirror.
Lydia was staring up at the troopy ceiling, her mouth moving with effort.‘I was giving Brodie a driving lesson.’
Brodie was barely sixteen and had yet to get his driver’s permit.
‘Where?’
‘Back road.Doing a fence check,’ answered Brodie.‘That’s when we saw them loading cattle.’
‘Who?’
