Life Saver *editing*

How to save a life

I'm in the middle of editing the end of this chapter. I know that right now the end of this and the start of chapter three don't make sense together, but I'm working on it. Bare with me. I'm editing as fast as I can.

Chapter 2 - How to save a life

'I would've stayed up with you all night, had I known how to save a life.'

A kilometer drive and a half later I've dropped off Kelly and am on my way to our little town's famous beach. Thankfully I always carry a pair of spare bathers and a lifeguard uniform in the trunk of my car, so I don't have to stop by home. I pull into the carpark and slip out of the small car. An easterly breeze blows from the beach and sends my hair flying in all directions. Ducking into the dingy changing rooms, I quickly pull on my uniform and shove my other stuff into my beach bag. I entered as Daisy Fairfields just another teenage beach go-er, but when I come out, I'm a noble, respected lifeguard. Funny how a uniform changes perspective so much. As I dash down the long winding sand path and towards the shore, I smile at people and tell them to "Stay safe" and "Keep in between the flags."

When I spot the familiar red and yellow flags, blowing in the easterly wind, I feel right at home. Gavin runs up to me as I catch my breath. I'm unusually puffed out today. I turn and stare back down the path. I can still see the carpark. Just. Maybe I'm getting a cold, that run is usually nothing for me.

"My favourite guard is here." Gavin smiles at me. "Thanks for coming."

"It's my pleasure." I puff.  "Where do you want me?" I look around at the swams of people in and out of the water.

"Would you mind going to the far southern side?" I nod. "That's is why you're my favourite." He grins and pats my shoulder. I turn around and begin jogging along the white sand and towards the end of the beach.

The southern beach is less crowded than where I was before, but there are more rips here and the rocky cliffs can be a danger to swimmers too. I make myself comfortable next to a small beach shack, filled with surf boards, towels and first aid kits. An easily seen, fluro yellow board rests at my feet (incase of a drowning swimmer). I try to estimate exactly how long it would take me to grab it and sprint to the water, to pass the time. I estimate 30 seconds, maybe less if I'm quick. Some surfers are catching large waves over out near the cliffs. I watch them celebrate their surfing successes through my binoculars. The late afternoon sun blares down on me and I have to blink a couple times to stay awake.

Sometime later, one of the more confident surfers tries to catch a huge incoming wave but he misjudges it, hesitates and as he stands up, the wave knocks him off his surfboard. His head smashes into the side of the fiberglass board...

My mouth drops open. My breathing hitches. I can do nothing but stare as his body plunges into the deep blue water. Water he might never come out of.

Seconds later I've leapt up from my spot on the sand, thrown my binoculars in no which direction, grabbed my rescue board and am running at full pace towards the shore. As soon as the water reaches my knees I dive onto the board and propel forward. My legs kick at a rapid pace and my arms swing wildly through the current. Out here on the water I feel confident. I feel in control. My whole body is pumping. My heart beat races. In my mind the other surfers are gone. It's just me and him. The drowning surfer, sinking. I see the his body start to go under. He's lost his fight with consciousness and he's going to lose a hell of a lot more if I don't move faster.

I make my body work harder. Time is ticking. I am reaching out for the man before I'm even at arms distance. It's only when I reach him, that I realise I've been holding my breath. I take a huge gulping mouthful of air and accidently fill my mouth half with salty water. I cough and splatter as I pull the man's heavy body onto my board. I allow myself a quick glace at his injury now he's above the water's surface. I can see blood coming from a cut on his head. It runs down into the water all around us. Staining the water a diluted red. Blood covers my hands as I quickly try to position him properly and turn the board around. I yell for the other surfers to come into shore, but don't wait for a response; I'm already on a wave back to the beach.

I drag the man quickly and roughly onto the sand. I pray he hasn't got a spinal injury or the like.

When we are out of the water, I kneel next to him and press two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. I don't hear anything. I pound at his chest. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Then I blow. Footsteps come from the water and crowd around me. They exchange brief words I don't listen to as I rapidly push air into the unconscious surfer's lungs. God damn it, Breath!

"Call an ambulance." I scream at the surfers. "Do... something!" I can't stand them all just watching me. Tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision. Please don't die. I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm not a religious person, but it seems appropriate to pray now. Please! This life is in my hands. I can't lose him. I won't. I've never seen anyone die before, nor has anyone close to me ever past. Death isn't something I consider. It's not something I want to think about.

My watery eyes blink open, suddenly, pulling me from my reverie. The surfer still lays next to me, unmoving, and my arms still pound at his chest, but he's not responding.

The longer he's not breathing, the less his chance of living. I keep pushing and forcing oxygen into his airways. It's hard to tell how long I've been doing it. I don't hear the surfers trying to talk to me or the wail of ambulance sirens. The first time I'm aware of paramedics is when they pull me away from the unconscious body. Some one puts their arm around me. I later realize it's Gavin.

The surfer is pulled onto a stretcher and lifted into the ambulance. A paramedic slams the back door shut and they drive away with the siren wailing and the bright red and blue lights flashing.

I bury my face in my hands and sob, the siren's scream still ringing through my head. If I was somehow faster, the surfer probably wouldn't be fighting for his life. If I had reacted straightaway instead of gaping at him, he might be laughing with his friends about this right now, not laying in an ambulance bed.

                                                                         ✧✧✧

"Daisy.." whispers Gavin, tugging me up the beach. "Come on, let me take you home."

"No." I speak my first words since the ambulance left. "I want to go to the hospital."

"Are you su-"

"Yes. Please Gavin."

Gavin squeezes my hand and leads us up the winding path to the car park.

"We can take my car. Do you have clothes to change into?"

I nod and pull a pair of dry shorts and a top from my bag. I slip into the change rooms and strip myself of wet clothes. When I return, Gavin is waiting patiently, leaning against his car and staring at his feet. He looks up as I get closer. "Let's do this." he breathes, softly.

I walk around to the passenger seat and pause at the door. "Gavin? Who's looking after the beach?"

"I told Liam to start getting everyone out of the water and send them home. Don't you remember? You were standing right next to me." Oh. was I? I slip in through the passenger door. Gavin joins me in the front and ignites the car. It's a good forty five minute drive to the hospital, I can only pray the unconscious surfer got their in time.

Three quarters of an hour passes excruciatingly slowly. I fidget for the majority of the ride and zone out both Gavin and the radio. If he has tried making conversation, I haven't responded. As the hospital comes into view, it's largeness looms over us. How many people must be in there? Or a more appropiate question, how many will ever come out? 

When Gavin parks the car, I rush him all the way to the emergency department desk, having become suddenly very anxious.

"What if he's... you know?"

"Then we'll take it from there, okay. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Gavin stides up to the woman at the desk while I stand back and watch. He comes back a couple minutes later and takes my hand, pulling me towards the elevator. "Blake Harrison. Fifth floor. Room Number 547." is all he says.

"So he's alive." I whisper quietly as the elevator whisks us up through the hospital.

Gavin bites his lip and shifts uncomfortably. "Barely."

I've decided to have a song for each chapter.

This chapter's song is 'How to save a life' by The Fray. 

-Ella