d he says “Where is one? You see a sign before for one?” and she shakes her head. “We could be driving around looking for one till she really dies. Right now let me just see. Maybe a police car will come and they’ll get an ambulance here quicker,” and listens against her chest around where he thinks her heart is. Nothing. Listens to other places where her heart could be. Parts her lips with his fingers, ear on her mouth. Thinks he feels something, breath, wet. Maybe it’s the blood again and he isn’t feeling anything like breath, or can’t hear it and closes his eyes and concentrates but there’s nothing, no breath, sound, gurgle. Wipes his ear where it felt wet and looks at it; was blood. Parts her lips and sticks his ear inside her mouth far as he can get it. Cars zip by, what sounds like a big truck. “Shut the noise,” he shouts, “shut the fuck up,” and Margo says “I’m not saying anything, I’m quiet,” and he says “The cars, trucks. Shh, I’m listening, I have to listen,” and sticks his ear back in, closes his eyes and holds his breath. Nothing. His ear out, lets her lips close, kisses them. They’re not warm, they’re not cold. That wasn’t why he kissed them but feels them again, kisses them. Same thing but colder than lips usually are he thinks. “Oh my God, help, someone help, we need help.” “Breathe into her,” Margo says. “What?” “Breathe into her. They do that; it could help.” “Oh fuck, I forgot,” and pounds his head with his fists and she says “Daddy, please, breathe into her. Down and up like I’ve seen, down and up,” and he says “I know how, I think, but nothing’s going to work, I know it,” and lays her on the floor and breathes into her mouth, comes up and takes a deeper breath and breathes into her, twice more, listens, nothing. “More, more, those times aren’t enough,” she says and he breathes into her, takes a deep breath, breathes into her, deep breath, eight more times till it’s ten, listens at her mouth and chest. “Go out, I’ll continue,” he says. “Flag down a car. That’s with your arms,” waving. “Stop one. Stop a lot. Maybe one will have a doctor.” “I still think we should go to a hospital, look for one.” “We will but first do what I say. We just need help. Now go.” She opens the door to the ditch side, starts to step out, he yells “No, don’t, you can get killed, the cars. What am I doing? Stay with your sister. She starts moving, yell for me.” He goes out, flags car after car. None stop or slow down. “I have to do this quickly,” he yells at the next few cars, “so someone stop. I got to get back to helping her — Margo, can you breathe into her?” he yells. Her head pops up; what was she doing? “If you can, do.” “What?” “Breathe into Julie, into her, you saw me. Anything might help — Stop,” he yells at a car that just passed in the slow lane. “My kid’s been shot,” pointing to his car, thinking the driver might be looking back in his mirrors. “Stop, stop, she’s dying, I need help,” running into the middle of the slow lane, looking at a car way off coming in it and then to the one that passed. “She may be dead. Please, please.” Other cars and trucks in all four lanes. One that was in the slow lane moves into the nearest middle lane when it gets about two hundred feet from him and the driver points to his own head and then him with the motion “You’re nuts.” He was going to stay there till it was about fifty feet away. He stays a few feet into the slow lane yelling. Most people look, several honk, some point, a little girl waves back at him, a few seem to say to each other “You see that?” a couple of them signal with their faces and hands “Sorry, can’t stop,” a motorcyclist goes past in the fast lane but never seems to see or hear him. “My daughter, my little girl, stop, I’m not kidding,” pointing to his car, front door open. “She’s shot, hurt, maniacs on the road, she was shot by a maniac.” Makes his hand into a gun and shoots it at his car. “Like this, a gun, don’t you hear?” All the cars in the slow lane go into the middle ones to pass him. “Shot, maybe killed, my kid, over there. Oh fuck it.” Starts running back to his car when he sees a car’s stopped about a hundred feet past him, now driving in reverse on the shoulder till it’s right in front of his. “What’s up?” the driver says from the window, “something the matter I can help?” a kid, around eighteen. “My daughter, in there, she’s shot. Some guys from another car. I think she’s dying or dead. I’m going crazy what to do.” “Better get her to a hospital fast. There’s one a few miles from here. Next exit. No, exit after that. What the heck’s the exit number? I know it, every day, and now I have to forget? But one of the next three exits for sure. They’re all one quick after the other, the first about five miles from here. There’s a big blue H sign with an arrow on it by the exit sign you’re to get off. Follow it to the hospital, there’ll be other H’s, a mile, no more than two from it.” “Please get out and stop other cars. I’ve got to get back to her. Maybe one will have a doctor. They’ll see our two cars here and think something’s wrong and stop.” “Put your emergency flashers on, that’s a signal,” putting on his. “And let me see her,” getting out. “I don’t know anything but I think I can tell if she’s too far gone.” “No, just go, even to call nine-one-one. Get an ambulance here; you know where we are. My other kid will wave down cars while I keep the shot one breathing. They’ll stop for a kid waving.” “Daddy,” Margo yells, “you have to come here. She’s changing colors and didn’t feel right when I touched her.” He drops to the ground and pounds it and screams “Oh my God, please don’t, You got to do something.” “You really better get her to the hospital,” the man shaking his shoulder. “That’s the quickest. They can pull her back even when she’s dead a minute. I’ll lead you.” “Right,” and he jumps up and gets in his car, man runs to his, and he says “Margo, buckle up,” looks back, Julie’s where he left her, man’s honking, wants to go. “She didn’t get up, did she? — make a move, a sound, nothing like that?” and Margo says “I don’t think so but I wasn’t always looking — what about her strange color? She’s not dead, is she?” and he says “She’s the same, no new colors, alive, only hurt, she’ll be fine, fine,” but doesn’t remember seeing. Just there, that’s all he recalls, on the floor, same spot, eyes closed, too peaceful, maybe with some new blood on her. “It’s smelling back here, Daddy.” Blood; has to go back to help her, stuff it up, get her breathing, keep her, he means. Man’s honking and pulls out. “Okay, okay — my keys, oh no,” and looks for them above the dashboard, feels his pockets, screams “My keys, where are they, why am I always losing things?” in the ignition, turns the key and there’s this ripping sound from it, ignition was still on and he says “Oh my darling, my darling, and I could’ve killed them both,” crying. Man honks and he screams “I can’t take it, I want to kill myself,” and follows the car into the slow lane and along the highway. “Daddy, you’re not going to crash us, are you?” and he thinks, “Oh I wish that was Julie saying that,” and says “No no, it’s just I feel so bad,” and she says “Me too — your lights on like that man’s?” and he puts the flashers on and says “How’s Julie doing? Some movement, anything with the eyes?” and she says “The same. I can’t look at her anymore, Daddy, I can’t,” and he says “Just tell me if you see any part of her move or breathe. I don’t know what to do. What should I? Go back and breathe into her, try and stop her cuts?” and she says “You’re doing right, Daddy, the hospital. They’ll do it better, they know how.” “Faster,” he yells out the window to the man, “go faster,” for the man’s only doing fifty-five, then sixty and then fifty-five again and keeps turning around to see if he’s still behind him. “I’m here, what do you think? just use the mirrors, you fucking idiot, don’t waste your time turning around to me and cutting your speed,” and honks and honks, gets very close as if to say speed up or move over, but the man looks back again and looks alarmed when he sees how close the cars are and waves for him to get farther back and he waves for the man to go faster, faster and yells “Faster, faster,” and the man speeds up to sixty and stays there. “Jerk, fucking schmuck, move, move,” and sees a sign for the next exit one mile ahead, no H on it, maybe it’ll be on the exit sign, but the man isn’t signaling right, maybe he never does when he’s changing lanes or leaving one for an exit, lots of drivers don’t, but it’d be a signal to him that this exit’s the one they get off. They approach the exit and the man passes it and soon after it is another sign for an exit a half mile ahead, H on it and he signals left and skirts around the man and speeds up and the man honks and tries keeping up with him and he gets off, doesn’t look back to see if the man’s behind, maybe he should because maybe the man’s trying to tell him that this is the wrong hospital, the next one which might be off one of the next two exits might be the right one for emergencies, looks in the rearview but man’s not there, no no, there couldn’t be two hospitals so close or the chances of it are very small in what seems like such an unpopulated area and besides that the man would have said something about it before they took off, or even if the man just realized it it’s too late and this hospital will have doctors and stuff to help and going fast as he can he follows the H signs and then Hospital signs and sees the hospital, it’s a large one so will probably have an Emergency and goes down its road and looks for a sign saying emergency, “Margo, look for a sign that says emergency,” he yells, “e-m-e-r — you know how to spell it. Is Julie all right, everything back there okay?” and she says nothing and he sees the sign and then the emergency entrance and parks in front, “There’s Emergency,” she says and he says “I know,” and honks and honks and nobody comes out or is around and he yells “What do I have to do, go in to get you? — this is an emergency, I’m honking emergency,” and looks in back, Margo’s crying, “Oh this is so tough for you, darling, I know,” Julie in the same place, “Julie, my love, Julie, how are you? Please be well. We’re here, getting help, dear, help,” and gets out of the car, says into the back “Stay put, both of you, I’ll fetch them,” and runs in thinking “‘Fetch,’ what a dumb word, how could I have used it?” and yells to a man behind a window in Reception “Emergency, emergency, my daughter’s been shot, someone, someone, I almost know it’s too late but help me, help her,” and a nurse charges through the double doors next to the reception window toward him and just as she’s about to say something he grabs her arms and shouts “Where were you? Why wasn’t someone outside? Get a doctor, breathing equipment, something to stop the blood, she’s in the car outside, dark gray one, charcoal,” and runs back out and into the backseat and sits her up and breathes into her, comes up, breathes into her, lips are cold but that can be just that she’s very hurt, the opposite somehow of a temperature from an infection or cold where the body’s doing something he doesn’t understand because of the hole in her and loss of blood. Breathes into her, listens, nothing, but he might not be hearing, where’s Margo? “Margo,” he yells, “Margo.” “I’m in front. I couldn’t stay. Is that all right? Did I do wrong?” She’s so sticky and limp, back, wrist, forehead, cold all over, she’s dead, has to be, the purple coloring and film, there’d be some life sign, eyes, he opens one, it looks dead, he didn’t act fast enough to save her, just should’ve kept breathing into her with Margo waving for help on the shoulder till someone came. Or taken her outside the car and breathed into her there so other cars would see and stop. Didn’t do what he should’ve done on the road to get away from the men which would have been what? Swerved more, tried earlier to dart into the median strip and then gone north on it, got off sooner onto the shoulder and immediately driven in reverse. Moment he knew she was shot, without even going in back, should’ve raced down the highway till he saw a sign for a hospital — just should’ve believed one would come. If only they’d stopped at the rest stop twenty miles or so back as Julie had asked him to instead of his insisting on getting home soon as they can, eager to get their things away and dinner prepared so he could read the mail and newspaper over a drink. She didn’t have to go to the bathroom — he asked her — she just wanted water, maybe a soda, she said, “No soda,” he said, “and water you can get at home.” Margo wanted something to drink too but also didn’t have to make. If only one of them had wanted to go to the bathroom badly, just said that, even lied they did and then got water or asked for soda there, he would have stopped. If only he’d wanted to pee, but really had to, was about to explode or felt it coming, or twenty miles or so back he’d been so tired that he needed a break and cup of coffee, he would have stopped and never have come up against those men or probably not. But don’t get sick over it. He can still help, who knows? and breathes into her, listens to her mouth, nose and chest. Stop kidding yourself, there’s nothing there and hasn’t been for minutes, she’s dead, that’s all, but you’re not a doctor, you don’t know, so she might not be, but she’s already started what’s got to be an impossible-to-change change, he can see and feel it, so she’s dead. “Oh God, she’s dead,” he thinks, and bursts out crying and cries hysterically and Margo leans over the seat and rubs his back and says “This is very sad, Daddy, I don’t know what to do either.” Hospital people are there now, may have been there awhile, all the doors open, nurses, doctors, aides, equipment, with so many people and stuff they’ll be certain to help her, each of them has that competent look and this is the country, not the city, where people are eager to help and do their job well and no one’s on the run, and someone says, pulling his arm, “Please come out, sir,” and he thinks “That’s a good sign,” the relaxed voice and calm look and pleasant manner, just by looking at her they can tell things aren’t as bad as he thought and maybe not even an emergency and he says “Wait, I have to put her down first,” but she’s not in his arms, not even in the car now, he must have put her down, or dropped her, God forbid, or handed her to someone or they took her away from him, even out of his arms, without him even knowing it, so what does that say? A bad sign, but he’s not sure. And where is she? He’s escorted out, Margo’s already out, and he’s looking around for Julie, best place he bets is on the ground and he looks down and doesn’t see her and up and sees a crowd of hospital people whisking a wheeled stretcher toward the emergency doors, her feet sticking out or rather her shoes and little socks and a bit of her legs, then they’re through the doors which fly open, second set of doors which fly open and they’re gone, he can’t see them and he yells “Julie,” and a man, probably a doctor because he’s in white, says “She’s in the treatment room, we’re trying to revive her, just tell me quick, is she allergic to anything?” “I don’t think so, I don’t know, my wife knows all that.” “How long ago would you say she was shot?” “Half hour or so, I think, twenty minutes, longer, twenty-five, maybe more.” “Was any other harm or blow done to her, knife, head injury in the car?” “No, it was from another car, guy with a gun on the highway, we didn’t crash but I did come to a quick stop and she might have hit her head against the back of the front seat, but minor, minor compared to the gunshot.” “Anything else about her medical history, can’t clot, prone to seizures, any severe recurring illnesses, is she on any drug now, anything to do with the heart, congenital, recent operations, like that?” “Not that I know of, healthy, normal, colds,