The Sky We Seek (Love and Other Dreams #2)

Chapter 6

Noah

Lost in thought, I gaze out of the window. The dense mist behind the glass doesn’t bode well. It stretches through the dense pine forest in front of the mountain rescue center, creeps up to the tree line, and merges with the rain-laden clouds that veil the peaks of the surrounding mountains.

"What a day," Anita sighs as she steps beside me, handing me a steaming cup of coffee. "It’s time for summer to kick in."

With an approving grunt, I take the cup from her and take a sip.

She leans against my desk, her search and rescue uniform pants creasing. "Are you bored yet?" she asks with an encouraging smile.

"Boredom is good." If it’s quiet here at the center, at least no one is in danger.

She scrutinizes me for a moment, and I immediately feel uncomfortable. I shift back and forth on my desk chair but can’t find a comfortable position. "Hmm," she eventually says, absentmindedly blowing on the hot liquid in her cup. "Tell me..."

Quickly, I raise my hand. Whatever question she has, I certainly won’t answer it just to fuel the gossip in the village. No, thank you. I’ve had more than enough of such experiences .

"Work calls," I turn to the screen, which still has the inventory list open. The other three monitors on my desk display a map of the area, the emergency call portal, and the internal communication program. "Thanks for the coffee."

In my peripheral vision, I see Anita’s bewildered expression. She brushes her tousled curls away from her face but keeps leaning against my desk. She’s probably searching for words.

She’d better leave it. Because there aren’t any.

For safety’s sake, I pretend that the orders for bandages and office supplies demand my full attention. I type article names and quantities into the list with so much determination that the clicking of the keyboard fills the silence between us.

"It was nice chatting with you," Anita murmurs and finally turns away.

Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief. Today is my first day back at work, and so far, I’ve managed to avoid all my colleagues. Martin brought me up to speed without deviating from the topic for even a second. And without looking me in the eye. My presence made him uncomfortable, but at least he didn’t pretend. And as long as I can keep the others at bay like I just did with Anita, everything will be fine.

So what else do we need?

Gauze bandages, fingertip bandages, and compresses. I survey all the products in the online shop. Among this supplier's offerings, I spot a range in an elegant gold-and-black design.

Elina would love these. And those subtly sparkling plasters as well.

Inevitably, I imagine her sticking one on her finger even though she’s not even injured while batting her eyelashes.

At that very moment, the emergency phone rings. I jerk upright and clumsily reach for the headset. Now, my full concentration is required.

"Mountain Rescue, Semmtal Emergency Center," I say while simultaneously creating a new entry in the emergency portal.

The first thing I hear is the loud pattering of rain.

"Help! We need help!" The woman’s voice sounds strained. Her breath is labored. In the background, another woman screams in agony.

"Where are you located?" My gaze shifts to the screen displaying the map. I activate the GPS signal tracker, which should be able to trace the call, but I can’t pinpoint their position.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." The woman on the other end of the line bursts into a fit of sobs. "She’s bleeding. Everywhere!"

The caller is clearly on the verge of a panic attack.

"I want you to take a long, deep breath for me. Can you do that?" I try to sound composed, even though my own pulse quickens. Then I audibly exhale, hoping she can hear it.

It’s meant to encourage her to do the same, and indeed, a few seconds later, I can hear her quivering breath ebb and flow.

"Very good. And now, tell me your name," I continue in a soft voice. At the same time, I alert the paramedics through our internal communication system, placing them on standby.

"Miri." She sniffs heavily. "She’s going to die," she whispers, her voice choked .

Her tone sends a shiver down my spine. The hairs on my forearms stand on end, and I swallow hard. I mustn’t let anything show. My voice is her lifeline. I’m the only thing standing between her and her panic.

"Hi, I’m Noah, and I’m going to help you. But you also need to do something small for me, Miri. It’s important," I say in a gentle tone.

"What?" she barely whispers into the phone.

"Take your phone off your ear and switch on the speaker function." Although I sound like nothing can shake me, I feel a cold sweat coating my back.

There’s a crackling sound on the line, then suddenly, I hear the raindrops pounding on the ground three times louder. The tortured whimpering of the woman in the background has also increased in volume.

"You did great, Miri. And now, activate the location service on your phone." My index finger hovers nervously over the computer mouse. In emergency situations, people can be overwhelmed by even the simplest instructions. "That’s the button with the little arrow," I add. Then I refresh the map view on my screen.

Once again. And again.

There!

They’re in the Hermatal Gorge behind the steep cliff where sport climbers go.

Immediately, I send the coordinates to the internal communication system. "Thank you, Miri. A team is already on their way to you."

Instead of responding, she starts sobbing. She can barely catch her breath, her crying is so intense. Through the center's floor-to-ceiling windows, I see my colleagues in their red-and-yellow uniforms rushing to the helicopter in the courtyard. The rotor blades start spinning. The rumbling grows louder until the helicopter finally takes off.

The flight to the accident site will take about five minutes. That’s only three hundred seconds, but they can make the difference between life and death.

"Let's take care of your friend now," I say gently into the phone. I know I'm demanding a lot from her in this situation, but there’s no other way.

Miri doesn’t respond. And suddenly, it’s quiet in the background as well. Only the sound of rain remains.

"Please go to her." My throat tightens, but right now, that’s the least of my concerns. "Are you there?"

"Mm-hmm," she says, followed by a heavy breath.

"Are her eyes open?" My hand instinctively clenches into a fist. I count the seconds of silence between us.

"I think she’s dead." She sounds so matter-of-fact now as if her mind has detached itself from her body to help her cope with what she’s experiencing.

"Place your fingers on the side of her neck," I firmly instruct her.

"I can’t do it," she replies, tortured.

I force a smile because supposedly you sound different when you smile. "I believe in you, Miri. If anyone can do it, it’s you."

She sobs like a baby crying herself to sleep. But soon, I hear rustling. It sounds like performance fabric rubbing against each other. She’s probably kneeling now. She’s right next to her friend.

"Do you feel a pulse?" I press my lips together anxiously .

Nothing but her rapid breaths can be heard.

I cover the microphone of my headset, releasing the built-up air in my lungs with a single forceful exhale. This is a nightmare. She’s so far away from me, and all I have are words to help her. "Talk to me, Miri."

"N-no pulse."

No.

Please, no.

With trembling fingers, I add the information to the emergency form. If her heart isn’t beating, she’s not breathing either. My colleagues need to have the defibrillator and a resuscitation mask ready.

"You’re doing great," I tell her while checking the helicopter's position on my map.

It should arrive any moment. Thank God.

"Please look around, Miri. Do you see any brightly colored items? Maybe a backpack or a jacket? We need something that can easily be spotted through the heavy rain." I do my best not to pressure her even though I know how crucial it would be for her to find something.

I receive no response. "The rain cover of my backpack. It’s neon yellow," she says finally.

Perfect. "Please take it off."

"But then our things will get wet." Her irrational reaction is another indication that she’s in severe shock.

I note her condition in the emergency card as well. The risk is high that she'll collapse when my colleagues arrive. "We’ll take care of that later. Please take off the rain cover now."

A plastic-like rustling reaches my ear. It lasts for a long time, too long. Miri has surely lost control over her fingers. "What now? "

She’s hardly asked her question when I hear the steady rumbling of the helicopter rotor in the background.

"Look up. Do you see the chopper?"

The noise grows louder. It’s probably already in her field of vision, yet she doesn't say anything. "Miri? Are you still there?"

No response.

Dammit. She must have passed out. I quickly type the information into our communication portal. I also add neon yellow backpack cover on the ground because that’s still the best clue I can give my colleagues now.

The noise on the other end of the line grows louder. I have to distance my headset from my ears. The rotor noise almost drowns out the voices of my colleagues, but not fully.

There’s Peter. And Martin too. Jakob announces that he’ll take care of Miri. Nina loudly demands more space. She’s probably unpacking the defibrillator.

I close my eyes and hold my breath.

"And clear!" Nina shouts at the top of her lungs.

In my mind, I visualize what is happening at this moment. Martin removes the resuscitation mask from the patient’s face, and Peter stops examining her limbs and raises his hands.

A split second later, the electric shock surges through the woman. Her chest rises and then falls back down. Someone checks her pulse.

It becomes quiet.

"Okay, we’ve got her." Peter’s voice ultimately gives the all clear.

With a heavy groan, I slump back into the chair. My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. My stomach feels so constricted that I don’t believe I'll ever eat again.

"Everything is fine. She made it," I tell myself. I repeat these words incessantly until my breathing normalizes.

Then I push myself up and walk to the restroom, where I vomit until only bile comes up.