Page 151 of We Are Just Us

One of the paramedics turned. “Family?”

“He’s my—” The words came out strangled. “I’m his—please.” Tears streamed down his face.

The paramedic looked at Rory’s unconscious form, then back at Kieran.

“Get in. Stay out of the way.”

Kieran climbed in. Sat on the bench. The doors slammed shut.

And then they were moving.

The ambulance lurched forward, siren wailing. Kieran gripped the edge of the bench, watching the paramedics work.

One was checking Rory’s vitals again. Blood pressure cuff. Pulse oximeter. The machines were beeping, numbers Kieran didn’t understand flashing on screens.

The other was on the radio. “Male, approximately 38 years old, surfing accident, possible head trauma, non-responsive at scene, GCS of 8—”

Kieran didn’t know what GCS meant. Didn’t know what any of this meant.

All he knew was that Rory wasn’t waking up.

“Rory,” Kieran heard himself say. “Rory, come on. Wake up. Please wake up.”

The paramedic closest to him glanced over. “Does he have any medical conditions we should know about? Allergies? Medications?”

“I don’t—I don’t think so. He’s healthy. He’s—” Kieran’s voice cracked. “He surfs all the time. He’s strong. He’s—”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s helpful.”

A paramedic was working at Rory’s arm now. Needle. Tape. Clear tubing. Rory didn’t move. Didn’t wake up. Didn’t do anything.

Kieran stared at his face. At the face he’d woken up next to this morning. The face that had smiled when Kieran gave him the necklace. The face that had looked so calm, so focused, paddling out to the final heat.

“Is he going to be okay?” Kieran asked. His voice sounded small. Childlike.

The paramedic didn’t look up from what he was doing. “We’re doing everything we can.”

That wasn’t an answer.

Kieran’s hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking.

He wanted to reach out, to find Rory’s hand and hold on, but the space was a chaotic tangle of wires and plastic tubes. Every time he flinched forward, a paramedic shifted, blocking his line of sight.

Paralyzed by the terrifying certainty that if he moved a single inch he’d be kicked out of the rig, Kieran just sat there.

Completely useless. Forced to watch.

The ambulance took a corner fast. Kieran had to brace himself.

“How much longer?” the first paramedic asked.

“Three minutes,” the driver responded.

Three minutes. That was all. Three minutes to the hospital.

Kieran stared at Rory. Willing him to move. To open his eyes. To say anything.

But he didn’t.