Her top lip was busted so severely the inside was nearly inverted, swollen and twisted, looking like a wad of bubble gum was stuck to her teeth. David placed his hand under her head and turned her face toward him. “Shhh,” he said. Her head lolled away from him, and for a brief shock of a second, David feared her head would slip from his grasp and smack onto the limestone. The water slightly gurgling around them was pinkish, and colder now. He gently placed her head back onto the rocks; David paused only briefly before deciding on carrying her out of the falls and away from the water. He put an arm under her short legs and the other behind her neck and carefully rose, as if the earth might open up below them. David took measured, planned steps forward, inspecting the footholds so that each one was firm. The task seemed to help him gather his air, and as he placed the girl down, he made sure to set her in place like a doll, holding her torso to him so he could use one hand to shuck off his jacket. He wrapped it around her, eased her back, and folded her arms over, pulling the zipper up to her chin, which was blue-green, like turquoise, with another gash right in the center, red flesh filleted and parted.
David tried the phone again, but the bars were not there. He looked around and brushed his hair back, scooted up next to the girl. He placed two fingers at her pale throat; the heartbeat was faint. She rolled her head toward his touch and said, “Daddy.” The word brought the pang of anguish it does for all true fathers; he heard in it his own daughter’s voice as the girl sputtered with a cough and said again, “Daddy,” this time with a weak plea.
“It’s okay,” he told her, taking off his denim shirt and placing it over the jacket. “Honey, I don’t have any cell service out here.” His words seemed to calm her and she stopped moving her head from side to side. “I live a couple of miles away. I can run back and call 911 and I’ll run as fast as I can back here.” The girl was still, her breathing slow and barely perceptible. David stood up, then knelt again and leaned over her and whispered in her ear. “Hang on, honey. I promise I’ll be back.” He gently touched her cheek and turned around and started to run.
In just a white undershirt, David sprinted back along the worn path, calculating the time it would take. He could walk the distance in just over twenty minutes; sprinting, he might shave off a quarter of the time, plus a few more minutes because he’d be able to get a signal once into one of the open fields. He rounded the bend where the rock foundation jutted out, then up along the sagging fence line. Blackbirds floated from the trees and mourning doves exploded out of the taupe fescue in the ditch. His lungs burned, and his eyes watered from the wind in his face. David thought then of Samantha, living in Chicago, a pediatric nurse, her mother a nurse too, the two of them living their lives as if men only weakened them, which was probably true. Samantha had told him over and over that taking a yearly CPR and first-aid course was just as important as his insistence on recycling, but during her last visit he’d waved her off again, saying he’d get around to it. He could see Sam at the girl’s age, an awkward teenager, and the image of the little girl alone near Shanty Falls gave him more energy, and he pumped his arms and pushed the balls of his feet with force into the ground while his thighs ached and the image of the barns and the side of his house came into view in the distance. He stopped abruptly and pulled out his phone. The operator was clear and calm, the voice forgiving and hopeful. David swallowed and caught his breath. In one clean and concise rush he said, “I’m David Holzer. I live at 220 Pike Road, close to Shanty Falls. On my morning walk I found a girl. She’s hurt badly. Please send an ambulance right away.” The operator repeated the information and David confirmed it. “Hurry,” he said, “she’s lost a lot of blood.” He put the phone back in his pocket and took a deep breath.
It occurred to him he could get back to the girl more quickly.
He sprinted toward the barn the Price brothers owned. They kept three ATVs inside, under tarps, for some reason only using them in the fall. He yanked off the dark green canvas and saw the keyholes empty. He searched the walls and found three sets of keys on an old hay hook. He put all three in the ATV ignitions. It’d been years since he’d ridden a motorcycle in college, but after a couple of false starts he found reverse with his foot, and was out of the barn and hitting second gear. At the edge of the woods he used his cell to call 911 again. “Tell the paramedics and police there are two ATVs with keys in them in the barn.” The operator told him they’d sent along a sheriff’s SUV.
David zipped around the back of the farm and down the long stretch before the curvy footpath along the river bottom and caves. At the stone foundation, he stood slightly and kept driving, looking ahead, the smell of gas and oil somehow calming. His arms were cold and he said a short prayer in his head, asking that the girl be spared shock. He slowed down when he saw some movement, and something hard and cold froze in the center of his chest. As he shifted down to first gear, the ATV jerked and threw him forward a little, the wind now stronger and biting. He stopped completely and had to squint to make out a figure in the distance, shrouded some by low-lying bushes and several massive tree trunks that had fallen. He shut off the motor but kept his eyes on the person moving slowly in circles. “You there,” yelled David, and he slid his phone from his pocket and damned himself for not bringing along the rifle he used to scare off foxes from his set of four hens. The figure kept pacing in circles. The motor on the ATV ticked as it cooled, like an old clock. In the far distance, the sirens wailed and receded, came back a little louder each time. David thought about just sitting it out, but he’d told the girl, no, promised her he’d be back. He climbed off the ATV and stood next to it. The voice of the girl, and Samantha’s too, came rushing back into his mind. He heard them both calling him Daddy. David stepped forward and kept going, his stride long and heels thudding in the earth. “Hey, you there,” he said, and David pointed in the person’s direction. “Stay where you are,” he commanded. David sniffed in deeply as the person finally heard him and stiffened, but only momentarily, before waving his arms and starting to jog in David’s direction. “I said stay where you are!” David stopped too. At this distance, in the path, he could see the person was a young guy, barefoot but holding a pair of shoes like they might be precious or explosive. David stepped to the side of the path and could make out the girl’s pale skin, about forty feet behind the guy. In David’s absence she’d moved, still on her back, but legs positioned now as if preparing to do sit-ups, her feet planted on the cold ground, her knees shining like white saucers. “You know her?” asked David. The guy stood there like a surprised deer. “Tell me, son,” said David, as he took steps forward. “You hear the sirens as well as I do. Better let me know what’s happened here.” The guy held on to the shoes, dangling at his side. David was within ten feet now, and could see the kid was familiar; he’d seen the face, the wide brown eyes and full mouth; he’d seen that face from the shoulders up before, but he couldn’t place it. David stopped again. The sirens seemed to fade some now. “What’s happened?” asked David.