“Get out of the way! I need room!” he shouted before practically dropping it on the floor. He began ripping it open.
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.
“I hope so,” I said. “Listen to me. I need you to call the emergency room at the hospital. They need to know that the patient has a serious head injury, possible internal bleeding, and compound fractures of the radius and ulna. Can you do that?”
By then, he’d freed the cot, revealing heavy plastic straps locking it into the closed position.
“Does anyone have scissors or a knife?” Claude shouted.
“Did you hear me, Claude? You need to call the emergency room. They need to be ready for her.”
“I got it. I have to call the hospital. She’s going to be okay, right?”
I repeated to him what I needed him to say.
“Yeah, okay.” He nodded. “I don’t know what happened.”
“For now let’s just take care of her, okay?”
Claude shouted to the others while pointing toward the cot. Again, I saw him reaching for his phone. “I need scissors or a knife to cut these straps.”
Someone I didn’t recognize stepped forward while whipping out a knife. With the press of a button, the blade flicked open; it wasn’t just a knife but a weapon, but who really cared? He used the blade to cut the plastic straps, and pushed the cot open, snapping it into place. He began to unfold the legs and I waved him off.
“It’ll be too tall if you open the legs. Just move the cot next to her, okay? I’m going to need some help gently moving her onto the cot, and then more help carrying her out to the car. I need as many hands as possible, so get close.”
People react in various ways during life-and-death moments. I’d seen people rise to the occasion or freeze in place, but the men at the Trading Post seemed to have collected their wits enough to know what needed to be done. The knife owner inched the cot into position; several others moved around her body.
“I’m going to keep her neck as steady as I can, in case there’s a spinal injury. The rest of you slide your hands under her. I doubt she weighs a hundred pounds, so she’s not going to be heavy. I’ll count down from three, and when I say lift, use a smooth, gentle motion while we move her onto the cot. The whole thing should take only a few seconds, okay? Does everyone understand?”
I made eye contact with each of them and saw them nod. “Once she’s on the cot, we’ll carry her out to the car. There aren’t good handles, so it might be kind of awkward, but she doesn’t weigh much, and there’s a lot of us. All right?”
Again, I saw them nod.
I called out the countdown and instructed them to lift. I kept her neck steady, and she was moved onto the cot without incident. A moment later, we began carrying her through the store. At the door, another man was waiting with an open umbrella, which he used to shield Callie from the downpour. The back hatch stood open.
With the downpour continuing, I had to shout to be heard. “I need someone to get inside the SUV and be ready to grab the cot as we load it, so there’s no extra jostling!”
A young man in his twenties hopped in, wedging between the driver and passenger seat, facing the rear. As a cohesive unit, we gently loaded the cot into the back, more smoothly than I’d imagined possible. I hopped up, kneeling, and hunched over beside her body. “Claude? Can you drive?”
Claude jumped behind the wheel as someone closed the back hatch. The cot had only inches to spare between the rear hatch and the seats up front. Callie remained unconscious, her breathing still shallow. Blood continued to drip from her ear. I checked her pupils again, and they were still reactive. I prayed we would get to the hospital on time.
“Do your best to keep the ride as smooth as possible,” I said to Claude as he started the engine.
A moment later, we were on the rain-drenched roads, but I barely noticed the drive. I kept my attention on Callie, wishing she’d wake, wishing she would move. Her arm continued to swell. I wanted Claude to drive faster, but in these conditions it was impossible. The SUV shook in the gusts; at times we slowed to a crawl while rolling through water that nearly reached the floorboards and splashed against the windows. I prayed that a neurologist would be waiting in the emergency room, and I wished that the local hospital were a trauma center. The nearest one—Vidant, in Greenville—was at least another hour distant in good weather; today, I doubted an ambulance could make it there at all. A helicopter was out of the question.