The rain hit the pavement in torrents, mixing with the pooled gasoline that soaked into her clothes as she crawled on her hands and knees through the broken window of the overturned sedan. Oil, anti-freeze and God only knows what else mingled together and ran down the side of the broken vehicle, dripping on Camden Reece as she carefully made her way over the shattered glass and jagged metal framework that was once a five star crash test rated Toyota Camry.
“Cam!” she heard a mans voice yelling from somewhere on the other side of the road.
“I’m okay.” She called over her shoulder. That was more than could be said for the unresponsive teenager before her, suspended upside down by her seatbelt. There was blood everywhere, but Cam thought most of it was from the deer had gone through the windshield.
“Cam” Mark Hart had come around the wreckage, and was now right behind her. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the bright orange backboard he carried. “This scene isn’t stable. I’d really rather you didn’t go crawlin’ around all up in it.” He leaned the backboard carefully up against the car. Sliding the red trauma kit off his shoulder to the soaked ground, he began riffling though its contents, grumbling and swearing as he yanked the plastic wrap from the head bed and set up the backboard with straps and all its various accessories.
“Course it’s rainin’.” Mark ripped a c-collar out of its wrapper and assembled the chin rest. Handing it to Cam. She took it and placed it on the now only semi-unconscious teen.
“We’re gonna need some more hands to do this safely.” Cam said. Her shoulders were starting to burn from holding c-spine on the kid at that angle. Mark nodded, reaching for his Motorola, he turned and headed back toward the squad, disappearing around the back of the wreck in which she now sat, on her knees in gasoline and glass, her arms extended in front of her in a yoga like position. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on her breathing, trying to shut out the burning ach spreading from her shoulders and through that knot that resides in the groove along her scapula. Once the burning hit that old spot, it would spread quickly up her neck and into a full blown headache. As she worked her scapula back and forth, trying to loosen the muscle, the kid began to mumble and stir.
“Try not to move, okay?” Cam said in a reassuring and relaxed tone. “You’ve been in a little accident. You’re fine, but you need to keep you head still for me just to be safe.” The kid nodded that he understood. Cam rolled her eyes and spoke up louder, “Do not nod. I need you to hold your head and neck still, if you understand, you can say so, but don’t nod.” After ten years, the patience with patients was thin as gauze.