Missing Thread

Chapter 4

Chapter 4Dylan proceeded at a sensible speed down the road and turned off the highway onto a secondary road. He followed it until he reached an open area with a dirt road leading to the banks of Sabine Lake. A favourite make-out spot for local teens, Dylan smiled. He and Camila had shared their first kiss right here ten years previous. The area was dark and empty tonight, matching the feeling in his heart. He parked facing the lake and turned up the radio. With his head resting back against the head rest, he stared out at the lake. The headlights picked up the turbulence of the dark water crashing against the banks, fuelled by the force of a strong wind.

He thought about the innocence of their courting days, their marriage, and the birth of their two boys, now seven and nine. How young and naive we'd been. A sardonic laugh, starting deep within, escaped through his lips, building its momentum until he shook with laughter, taking him to the point of tearing up. Dylan gave his head a shake, took a couple of deep breaths, and was back in control.

He stared out at the water in a stupor, afraid to move and break the feeling of numbness he felt and welcomed. Even the beat of the rhythmic salsa playing on the radio, usually a sound that stirred his Latino blood, went unnoticed. His eyes focused on a spot where the Neches River entered Sabine Lake. The churning water of the whirlpool mesmerized his vision and comforted him. Strange, but I don't have the need or desire to examine the feeling. Round and round the swirls went, pulling his focus into their deep recesses.

Something's not right. Then he saw it. He frowned and leaned forward, staring out the windshield at an object caught in the center of the whirlpool. The wipers afforded him a quick glance at whatever it was, each time the blades cleared the pools of water running down the glass. Dylan opened the truck door and stepped out. He stood in front of the truck and shielded his eyes with the palms of his hands to keep the rain from blocking his vision.

“Holy s**t…” In an instant, he knew it was a body. Dylan kicked his shoes off and ran towards the bank's edge, pulling his jean jacket off as he went. Without so much as a thought, he dove off the grassy knoll and into the lake. The cold water hit him like a hard wooden board and stung his skin. He pushed it from his mind and swam as fast and hard as he could towards the whirlpool. He'd been a champion swimmer in college and knew no fear of the water. With one reach of his arm, he grabbed hold of some clothing and pulled the body towards him. There was no time to check the status of the person. It was imperative to get himself and the body, dead or alive, out of the icy water. Assuming there was life still in the person he had in his grasp, Dylan turned the body over and held the face out of the water with one arm and swam with the other.

The current was strong and he struggled to hold onto the body and keep the face above the water.

By the time he pushed the body up and onto the bank, he was forced to take a moment to catch his breath and rebuild some strength. Finally, he pulled himself out of the water and collapsed. Time was of the essence. Dylan pushed himself up and rolled the body over onto it's back. It was a woman. She wasn't breathing and he couldn't find a pulse. A quick listen to her chest, told him her heart was still beating, albeit, a slow, faint beat. He applied the breathing technique over and over until she sucked in a huge breath and coughed water out of her lungs. Dylan rolled her onto her side so she wouldn't choke on the water. She didn't regain consciousness but she was breathing. He felt a pulse in her neck. A deep gash on the left side of her head began to bleed profusely. Without cell service, he'd have to take her to the hospital himself. He carried her to the truck and placed her in the passenger seat, propping her up against the door. A sweater belonging to Camila was shoved behind the seat. Dylan used it to tie around her head to try to slow down the flow of blood. His teeth chattered as he started the fifteen minute drive and he turned the heat in the cab on high.

Dylan drove as fast as he dared. He headed towards the Medical Center of Southeast Texas in Port Arthur, a physician-owned hospital with state-of-the-art technology. It was in the process of being built when their first child was born but Camila had their second son at this hospital. He pulled into the emergency entrance honking the horn. He jumped out and ran around to the passenger side. Dylan gathered the woman into his arms and rushed through the hospital doors, almost running into a police officer. The officer yelled for the nurse, who grabbed an empty bed set against the wall in the hallway. The policeman helped him place the woman on the bed. The nurse told Dylan to follow her and they hurried past half a dozen people sitting in the waiting room and through the door to triage. The triage nurse called for help to move the woman from the bed onto one behind a curtain. Dylan sat down in a chair beside the bed, shaking from the icy water, his wet clothes stuck to his chilled skin.

The officer stood beside him. “Car accident?”

“No,” Dylan answered in a shaky voice.

The nurse took over the questioning as she felt the woman's pulse. “Tell me what's happened here.”

“I was down at the lake … seen her floating in the water. I swam out and brought her in.” The nurse and the officer exchanged glances. “She wasn't breathing, but her heart was beating.” Dylan shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I applied CPR and brought her straight here.”

“Did she regain consciousness at all?”

“No.”

“You're covered with blood. Are you hurt?”

“No, it's her blood, from her head.” Dylan did feel weak and couldn't stop shaking.

“All right, but you're most certainly suffering from hypothermia. I'm going to get you out of your wet clothes and into a bed. We'll need to check you out.”

Dylan felt confused. “I'm okay.”

“What's your name?”

“Dylan Ortega.” He noticed the police officer pulled a pad out of his pocket and wrote on it. “Do you know this woman?” he asked.

“No.”

The nurse put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, Dylan, you're showing signs of hypothermia. We're going to get you into a bed and treat your symptoms. Okay?”

Dylan hadn't the energy to protest. Bed sounded like a great idea. He stood up and his legs gave out. The nurse grabbed hold of him to keep him from hitting the floor and the officer went for a wheel chair. He was lowered into the chair and taken to a bed across the room. The nurse assigned another to his immediate care and went back to the rescued woman.

The new nurse helped him undress, don a hospital gown and climb into bed. She placed his discarded clothes into a plastic bag. He saw her pull the curtain back and hand the bag to the police officer. What's up with that? Feeling too tired to care, Dylan closed his eyes. Seconds later the nurse was back with a hot blanket out of the warmer. She hooked him up to a heart monitor and took his vitals. A clerk came in with a clip board to get his personal information. Dylan felt so disoriented that he couldn't remember much of anything about his insurance, his home address, or much else. He did remember that his wallet was in the truck between the seats. The clerk asked the officer to retrieve it. They set up an IV to get warm fluids into his body and placed a heating pad under his back and another one over his chest.

“Dylan? I'm from the lab.”

He opened his eyes. A young woman stood holding a basket with empty vials.

She gave him a big smile. “I'm going to get some blood samples for a lab workup, okay?”

“Okay.”

Drowsiness overtook him, but just before he fell asleep all hell broke out in the emergency room. The head nurse began yelling instructions. “All staff, STAT. Call Dr. Hoffman.” Dylan heard feet running past his curtains. A male voice joined the fray. “Fill me in.”

The head nurse spoke. “Female drowning victim, pulled from the water not breathing no pulse, heart rhythm yes. CPR applied with success, never regained consciousness. Arrived ten minutes ago, pulse 40, BP 80/40, body temp 88, suffered cardiac arrest seconds ago.”

Dylan's heart jumped to his throat. No…she can't die. Not after all I did to save her. His head began to swim. Voices came and went, it was hard to decipher what they were saying when instructions were being yelled back and forth between the staff, but the odd word popped into his consciousness, defibrillator, clear, again, clear, reset, clear. As quickly as the bedlam started, it became very quiet. Dylan fought to stay awake and strained to hear something…anything…nothing came back to him…sleep claimed him.