Both Vince's and my hands grab his arms, leaning him over so he can vomit out all the water he swallowed.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Sasha announces, ever the pragmatic, steady one. She takes the light with her.
Although it plunges us into darkness, I’m glad that I don’t have to see my friend’s blood-smeared face anymore.
“You fucking idiot,” Vince huffs gruffly, sinking down into the sand.
I can only nod quietly, shifting uneasily and pushing my hands into my hips to hide their shaking. Now that it’s all over, adrenaline slams into me full force. It’s ridiculous and stupid and completely useless now.
“I'm fine,” Olli rasps out. His voice is so hoarse it's like he scraped the words from the bottom of his lungs.
“What were you thinking?!” Vince and I say, practically in unison. It takes a moment until I realize that Vince was actually talking to me.
“What?” I blink, so taken aback that I forget about my tirade for Olli.
“Going down there? Alone? You’re lucky they didn’t beat you up as well!”
“What was I supposed to do? Wait until they were finished with him?”
“What if—”
“Yeah, Lind,” Olli croaks, and we both fall silent. A siren announces help, distant but approaching. “You gotta read at least three more books to be ready for two at once.”
I groan, shaking my head while Vince covers his laugh with a cough.In an unspoken agreement, we let the topic die, waiting in silence.
Flickering blue lights dart over our heads, interrupting the darkness.
“They're down there,” Sasha's voice sounds, moments before she and the stranger come back into view. This time, I recognize Mia, clinging to Sasha's arm with one hand and raising her phone up high with her other to illuminate the beach.
Two EMTs, their shapes strangely bulky because of their backpacks, trudge down the slope. One is wearing a baseball cap; both are chewing gum.
“Which one of you is Oliver? Or Linden? Your friend said you both needed help?”
“I'm Linden. This is Olliver.” I point, then shake my head. “I'm fine, though. I didn't get hurt.”
Both men assess me, then crowd around Olli.
“Are you drunk?”
I stare, blink, then frown. “He isn't hurt because he drank alcohol.” I'm too tired to mask my annoyance. Now that the adrenaline shakes have subsided, I might keel over any second.
“Yeah, we know. The girls told us all about it. Still have to know,” baseball cap says matter-of-factly as he's taking out a flashlight.
All three of us flinch at the sudden light.
“Did he vomit?”
“Mostly water,” Vince starts to answer, but Olli interrupts him.
“Is this really necessary? I'm awake. I'm talking. I can move.” He waves his hands.
“Cognitive function, alert and awake, mobility.” The flashlight is lowered as one EMT mutters to no one in particular. “Alright,we're going to get you back up so we can see a little more. Can you walk?”
“Yeah, okay,” Olli, Vince, and I all agree, unsure who was actually addressed. We don't pause to find out, but rather help Olli back on his feet, then carefully climb up the slope in a slow procession.
The parking lot is bathed in blue light, turning the curious bystanders who are hovering at the edges into ghostly figures. For a moment, I look around for Micah, but then stop myself, pulling my focus on steadying my friend to get to the ambulance.
A police car is parked next to the ambulance. A third EMT, a woman with short purple hair, is talking to Sasha while wrapping one of her hands in gauze. Mia is pressed against her side, Sasha's other arm firmly wrapped around her waist.
