Until Dawn| Saving Josh

Chapter 6| Saving You

If I were ten years younger, I would stick my tongue out at her, but I just roll my eyes to myself. Watch out, Sherlock, you've got some stiff competition here.

She runs, literally sprints, ahead of us, yelling, "I found him. I found him!" There's a fluttering of wings, and I'm pretty sure every bird in a ten mile radius just high-tailed it.

When Josh and I get to the brick pillars where the gates used to be, Clarissa is at the bus, bouncing up and down and telling Mitch about the caves she "rescued Josh" from.

I want to argue my case, but I know the truth and Josh knows what happened, and that's good enough for me.

"Hey there, Brook," Mitch gives a small wave to me.

I nod once in acknowledgment. "Got the gates taken down, I see."

"I didn't appreciate you leaving the group without talking to me about it first. We were very worried about you."

I stop myself before I sigh. "I'm sorry; I just thought it was a waste of time. I really wanted to find Josh, and I didn't think the original plan had the best time-management."

"That's for me to decide," Mitch says sternly, which takes me aback.

"Well, it will hopefully never happen again," I say.

Within five minutes, the sound of chopper blades beating the air can be heard. It's the Blackhawk County helicopter which is used for emergency hospital trips, Search and Rescue, and anyone rich enough to pay for an unofficial scenic tour of Washington Mountain.

"Who found him?" a paramedic in a royal blue jumpsuit asks Mitch.

Clarissa and I both raise our hands. I must have been glaring at her because Clarissa lowers her hand when she sees me.

The paramedic, a tall and lanky lady with fake blonde hair sticking out of her hat, approaches me. "Tell me everything you know."

"Everything?" I ask, confused.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "When did you find him? What was he like when you found him? How has his appetite been? Fluid levels? Is he urinating?"

"Uh, I found him around 4:30pm. He was having a mental breakdown- hallucinating and babbling incoherently. Um, what was- oh! His appetite is fine, I guess. Actually, he hasn't eaten or drunk much since I found him."

The paramedic nods. "Thank you, we'll take it from here."

"Wait, can't I come with?" I'm silently begging her to not make me ride in a car with Mitch and Clarissa and the grumpy, broad woman from two days ago.

She doesn't even look at me when she shakes her head.

"Brook? Aren't you coming?" Josh calls from the helicopter, and I feel my heart break, the sharp edges poking my chest.

I look at the back of the paramedic's head. She climbs into the chopper gracefully and talks with the other paramedics and Josh. I can't hear what they're saying over the engines of the vehicles and the wind swirling around from the blades. After a little bit, the blonde's shoulders slump and she turns to wave me over. I run, backpack bouncing.

"Hop in," she says as she takes Josh's wrist to measure his pulse. I buckle into a backward-facing seat and lean forward into Josh's line of sight. We don't talk as the paramedics call numbers for a middle-aged Oriental man to write down. They hook Josh up to oxygen and insert an IV into his wrist. I have to look away until the needle is taped. I reach out and take Josh's hand in mine. He smiles at me and squeezes my hand before closing his eyes.

***

My eyes flutter open and quickly adjust to the darkness. I pull the musty, hotel blankets tighter under my chin and turn to look at the alarm clock. I have four more hours until I need to leave to catch my flight back to LA.

I sigh and rub my eyes, trying to get the horrible memory out of my head. The last time I saw Josh, he was having a horrible mental breakdown from the paramedics loading him onto a stretcher to take him into the hospital.

The doctors had to induce a coma, and now, three days later, his vitals are good enough to consider transferring him to a hospital in LA. The Canadian doctors diagnosed him with Schizophrenia. He had been living with the wrong diagnosis for eleven years. No wonder the depression medications weren't working. I'm furious with the psychiatrists he's been with for not taking the time to see if the original diagnosis was right, but there's nothing to do about it now.

There isn't a reason for me to still be in Blackwood;because I'm not immediate family, I'm not allowed to see Josh, but I've enjoyed sleeping for about fourteen hours a day and just relaxing in the hotel.