traffic as Clay neared the outskirts of Fireside. Embers Lane represented the two-mile mark, or thereabouts, to the city limits. He checked his watch. 10:45. Maybe after he got back to the station, he’d volunteer to make a lunch run. Anything to get back out of doors.
Rounding the first of two curves before the city limits sign, Clay spotted the deer lying in the middle of his lane. He braked and rolled off to the shoulder of the road, hitting his emergency lights before stepping out of the truck.
He checked the deer. It was dead. And it needed to be moved before it caused a wreck. Just when he’d decided to get his gloves from the truck and move it, he took particular notice of the skid marks. They were fresh, and ended on the side of the road where he’d parked his truck. He looked at the deer, but quickly decided it’d wait long enough to check the ravine. The vehicle that’d hit the deer had probably moved on down the road, but he needed to make sure that’s what happened. If a car or truck was down in the ravine, somebody was almost certainly hurt. Hopefully, not too badly.
On the other side of the truck, he saw the break in the fledgling trees lining the roadside. Moving in closer, he spotted the car about fifty feet down in the ravine, lying upside down.
Holy shit! He yanked open the passenger door and grabbed the radio mic. After talking to Chip at the station, he tossed the mic onto the seat and scaled the side of the hill like he’d been doing it all his life.
Clay dropped to the ground beside the upside-down sports car and peered inside. A woman. Blonde hair hung in her face, and she looked lifeless. The impact had shattered the windshield and windows. Clay reached inside and checked her neck for a pulse. It was there, and strong. She must’ve been knocked out during the rollover. Clay brushed her hair out of her face, checking for injuries. A few scrapes, nothing serious. Thank goodness. At least she wouldn’t have a disfigured face to contend with, on top of any other injuries she might have sustained.
She moaned and her eyes fluttered open. “What…?” she muttered, taking in her surroundings. “Somebody… help me, please…” Her words, spoken in a British accent, tapered off as her voice faded.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He used his charismatic voice, the one he’d quickly learned in college could charm the girls to do his bidding. This time he used it, hoping to keep her from going into shock. “I’m right here with you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“There was a deer.” She sounded scared. Rightfully so. “Did I hurt it?”
She was worried about the deer. Clay’s heart melted a little. “No. The deer’s fine,” he lied. “What’s your name?”
“Sara,” she said.
“Well, Sara, my name is Clay and I’m with the Fireside Fire and Rescue.” He kept the charm flowing, hoping it would do its job of calming her. She reached up, feeling for him. He wrapped his hand gently around hers. “My buddies are gonna be here real soon and we’re gonna get you out of here.”
“Am I going to die?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
He said, “Not if I can help it.” And she laughed a little. He told her, “You just hang on to me…and everything will be fine.”
Relief washed over Clay at the sound of the sirens approaching, but he remained cool and collected, for her sake. She needed to remain calm, and not drift off into shock.
C lay stood in front of his truck, staring in the direction where the ambulance had driven off. He hoped the girl would be okay. Maybe he’d go check on her later.
Troy Johnson, the rookie of the bunch, trudged up the hillside carrying a woman’s handbag. “Hey, Cap,” he said to Clay. “What do you want us to do with her purse?”
Clay waved him over and took the purse. “I’ll get it to her.” He looked at the bag, but didn’t open it. Instead, he looked back at Johnson. “Did you check her wallet for an
Rounding the first of two curves before the city limits sign, Clay spotted the deer lying in the middle of his lane. He braked and rolled off to the shoulder of the road, hitting his emergency lights before stepping out of the truck.
He checked the deer. It was dead. And it needed to be moved before it caused a wreck. Just when he’d decided to get his gloves from the truck and move it, he took particular notice of the skid marks. They were fresh, and ended on the side of the road where he’d parked his truck. He looked at the deer, but quickly decided it’d wait long enough to check the ravine. The vehicle that’d hit the deer had probably moved on down the road, but he needed to make sure that’s what happened. If a car or truck was down in the ravine, somebody was almost certainly hurt. Hopefully, not too badly.
On the other side of the truck, he saw the break in the fledgling trees lining the roadside. Moving in closer, he spotted the car about fifty feet down in the ravine, lying upside down.
Holy shit! He yanked open the passenger door and grabbed the radio mic. After talking to Chip at the station, he tossed the mic onto the seat and scaled the side of the hill like he’d been doing it all his life.
Clay dropped to the ground beside the upside-down sports car and peered inside. A woman. Blonde hair hung in her face, and she looked lifeless. The impact had shattered the windshield and windows. Clay reached inside and checked her neck for a pulse. It was there, and strong. She must’ve been knocked out during the rollover. Clay brushed her hair out of her face, checking for injuries. A few scrapes, nothing serious. Thank goodness. At least she wouldn’t have a disfigured face to contend with, on top of any other injuries she might have sustained.
She moaned and her eyes fluttered open. “What…?” she muttered, taking in her surroundings. “Somebody… help me, please…” Her words, spoken in a British accent, tapered off as her voice faded.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He used his charismatic voice, the one he’d quickly learned in college could charm the girls to do his bidding. This time he used it, hoping to keep her from going into shock. “I’m right here with you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“There was a deer.” She sounded scared. Rightfully so. “Did I hurt it?”
She was worried about the deer. Clay’s heart melted a little. “No. The deer’s fine,” he lied. “What’s your name?”
“Sara,” she said.
“Well, Sara, my name is Clay and I’m with the Fireside Fire and Rescue.” He kept the charm flowing, hoping it would do its job of calming her. She reached up, feeling for him. He wrapped his hand gently around hers. “My buddies are gonna be here real soon and we’re gonna get you out of here.”
“Am I going to die?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
He said, “Not if I can help it.” And she laughed a little. He told her, “You just hang on to me…and everything will be fine.”
Relief washed over Clay at the sound of the sirens approaching, but he remained cool and collected, for her sake. She needed to remain calm, and not drift off into shock.
C lay stood in front of his truck, staring in the direction where the ambulance had driven off. He hoped the girl would be okay. Maybe he’d go check on her later.
Troy Johnson, the rookie of the bunch, trudged up the hillside carrying a woman’s handbag. “Hey, Cap,” he said to Clay. “What do you want us to do with her purse?”
Clay waved him over and took the purse. “I’ll get it to her.” He looked at the bag, but didn’t open it. Instead, he looked back at Johnson. “Did you check her wallet for an
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