Page 34 of Desperate Creed

Creed dived back to his knees, pulling and snapping branches. He crawled and shoved his body forward, ignoring the sharp pokes and scrapes. He didn’t stop until he could touch the car seat. The muddy, leather back faced him, but he knew Grace had made her way around to the front. All he could see was the tip of her tail, and it was wagging.

From behind and above him, Creed heard Norwich and Sykes trying to lift and break the branches. He elbowed up through the pine needles until finally he could reach over the car seat. A thin stream of sunshine allowed him to see the baby still strapped in. The child was caked in mud. Grace had licked clean the eyes and nose and mouth, and now she’d moved her tongue-bath to the left ear. The baby didn’t cry. Outside of the whimpers and sniffles, it kicked its feet out. Tiny little hands fluttered. Grace tolerated the grabs and tugs and just kept licking.

Creed pulled the entire car seat, baby included, out from under the fallen pine trees. He draped his body to shield the child from being poked or whipped by twigs and needles. He felt the stabs in his back, scrapes across his arms and pinecones digging into his knees. By the time he made it out from underneath, the child was crying, more like screaming. Grace skipped alongside, desperate to settle the little tyke.

Sheriff Norwich and Trooper Sykes stood by to help, but now the desperate little hands clung to the front of Creed’s shirt. Instead of trying to pry the child’s hands free, he asked the others to disengage the car seat’s straps. The baby grabbed fistfuls of Creed’s T-shirt and held on tighter, burying its mud-caked head against his chest.

Sweat dripped down Creed’s face, but instead of wiping at it he kept both hands on the baby. He rested his chin on top of the matted hair. Twigs and needles poked at him. As soon as the straps fell away he wrapped his arms around the child. Then he kneeled down, so Grace would stop trying to climb his leg. Her nuzzles and licks almost instantly stopped the baby’s crying.

“My God,” he heard Sheriff Norwich behind him. “How is it possible?”

“Can you guys check for injuries?” Creed asked.

He glanced up at the law enforcement officers who appeared paralyzed by the discovery. He didn’t want to pull the child away and start the crying again. So instead, he sat back on his haunches and tried to run his fingers over one limb at a time.

Trooper Sykes knelt beside them. He started at the top, running careful fingers through the plastered waves of feathery hair, checking the baby’s head.

Grace weighted her front paws up on Creed’s thigh, supervising both him and Sykes. She was panting, her tongue hanging out and too far to the side.

Creed looked up at Norwich and asked, “Could you get us some water?” He gestured to his daypack.

She jerked into action. “Of course.”

She fumbled with the zipper. He could feel her hands rummaging through the pack. Only then did Creed realize how discombobulated the sheriff was.

“There’s a collapsible dish in there, too. For Grace.”

While Sykes continued his slow and careful examination, Norwich opened and spilled water for Grace. At first the dog didn’t want to be distracted from her guard post, but thirst changed her mind. Norwich held the bowl while Grace lapped up the water. The baby pulled away from Creed to watch.

“You want some, too?” Creed asked. “Are you thirsty?”

The baby’s eyes met Creed’s for the first time, and he was pleased to see they were focused, tracking and interested. He also noticed the baby’s ears were packed with mud. Grace hadn’t had a chance to clean them out entirely. Gently, he tugged a plug of dirt out of one.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked, again, and this time the child wiggled at the sound of his voice.

Norwich squatted beside them with the water bottle, still tentative as if trying to figure it out.

“You’re really good with babies,” she said.

He caught himself before telling her there wasn’t much difference between babies and puppies. Not everyone appreciated that comparison.

Norwich awkwardly adjusted the bottle bringing it to the baby’s lips, again, revealing how uncomfortable she was. She tipped it just enough for a small sip. Then another and another. Between Grace and the baby, they emptied the bottle. The little dog nosed Sheriff Norwich, wanting to take back her spot.

“Okay, okay, I’m moving,” Norwich told Grace. She joked about getting out of the dog’s way, but Creed knew the woman was glad to resume her distance.

“How old do you think?” he asked Sykes who had moved in front of Creed. Compared to Norwich, there was no hesitation.

“Not quite a year.” Trooper Sykes ran his hands softly over the baby’s legs, taking his time to feel for broken bones or wounds hidden by the mud. “My guess is ten or eleven months. I radioed for help earlier,” he said in a low, calm voice. “Paramedics are headed back. They’ll have IVs if necessary, but he doesn’t look too dehydrated. I’m glad he drank some on his own.”

“The pine trees provided shelter and shade,” Creed said. He glanced around to check on Norwich and saw her examining the car seat. “It’s almost as if they fell after he landed there.” He knew when he told the story to Hannah later she would claim it was a miracle. It would be hard to disagree with her.

“Wait a minute. You said he? It’s a boy?”

“Yeah, it’s a boy.” Sykes sat back on his heels and turned his head away. “And his diaper’s full.”

“Hey, your diaper would be full, too, if you flew three hundred feet in a car seat.”

Sykes laughed, and the baby jerked his focus away from Creed and Grace to look for the sound.