Deadly Stillwater

“Clear the top! Find the sides! Find the sides!” Mac yelled frantically. A deputy quickly found one side and Mac jumped down into the pit, kneeled down and noted the screws, one every six inches along the side. He climbed back out and looked to another deputy standing to the side. He climbed back out and looked to another deputy standing to the side. “The top is screwed into this thing. We’re going to need crowbars, tire irons, anything to help pry the top off. Go!”

The deputy ran out while another retuned with an update. “North Memorial’s chopper is in route, ER doc on board. ETA is less than fifteen minutes.”

The deputies worked frantically to dig out the sides of the box enough so they could have leverage to pry up the top of the box. It took a couple of minutes of digging and clearing. The deputy returned with four crowbars and two tire irons.

Mac and Lich jumped down into the pit to the right side of the box. The remaining deputies surrounded the box. Everyone jammed the crowbars and tire irons in, prying in between the top and side pieces, pushing down with all their strength to pry the top off. At first the screws wouldn’t give, but under continuous pressure, the screws started to come loose, groaning loudly, and the top came off with an ear-shattering pop and was pushed to the left.

Everyone froze.

Carrie Flanagan laid on the right and Shannon Hisle the left. Flanagan looked up and shaded her eyes with her left hand. Her hair was matted, and there were dirty tear streaks down her cheeks. Hisle was curled up in a fetal position, unmoving.

Mac jumped into the box, between the girls, and helped Carrie up. Two of the sheriff’s deputies lifted her out. Mac knelt down to Shannon, checking her pulse and listening to her chest. She was breathing. Her breathing was rapid, and Mac noted her breath smelled almost fruity.

“Carrie, how long has she been like this?”

“I don’t kn… kn… know for sure,” Carrie chattered. “She’s been fading in and out for the last couple of hours.”

“What’s her status?” the sheriff asked.

“She’s unconscious. Her pulse is rapid and so is her breathing,” Mac replied as he lifted Shannon and handed her up out of the box. He climbed out and took her limp body from the deputies, carrying her as the group made its way out of the woods. Once clear of the trees Mac gently laid Hisle down next to the trucks, lightly slapping her face.

“Shannon! Shannon! God damn it, you hang on, do you hear me?”

He head lay against the deputy’s lap.

The sheriff dropped down a first aid kit next to them. Mac checked her pulse while Lich opened up the box and grabbed the blood pressure monitor.

“I’ve got her pulse at 120,” Mac said.

“Blood pressure is low,” Lich reported. “Eighty-one over forty-five.”

“The black bag!” Mac said. “Get me the Glucose Meter.”

Dick handed it to Mac and he tested Shannon.

“What’s it say?” Lich asked.

“The glucose is high, way high. She needs insulin.”

Lich reached inside the black bag and handed Mac a needle and small bottle of insulin. Mac pulled the cover off the needle and stuck it into the top of the bottle, drawing out ten units of regular insulin, just as Lyman had instructed. He rolled Shannon onto her side and plunged the needle into her lower abdomen, injecting the drug into her system.

“Will that snap her out of it?” the sheriff asked.

“I don’t know,” Mac answered. “The girl’s father told us that if she was in this condition when we found her, this is what she would need. After a minute he stood up, leaving the deputy to monitor Hisle’s pulse. He walked over to Carrie, who sat on the bumper of the Explorer with a bottle of water in her hands. Her face was blank, nearly lifeless.

“I told Shannon you’d find us,” Carrie said weakly as Mac sat down next to her. “I told her you’d find us,” she repeated as she started to cry again. Mac put his arm around her shoulder and held her.

“Wait a second,” the deputy said, his hand on Shannon’s wrist and his eyes on his watch, “I think we’re getting a little better here.”

Hisle’s eyes fluttered and her breathing regulated. Mac kneeled down and put his right hand to her face. “That’s it Shannon, come back to us.”

“W… w… water,” she said weakly. A deputy quickly handed down a bottle, and Mac put it to her lips, letting her take some small sips.

Mac looked up. Lich smiled broadly as the sound of a chopper rose in the distance. The sheriff moved away and shot up a flare. Within a minute, the helicopter was touching down, the whoosh of the blades matting down the tall grass. The ER doc, in his hospital blues, was out of the chopper and on Shannon in an instant, checking her eyes and pulse. McRyan gave him the status report.

“You gave her insulin?” the Doc asked.

“Her glucose was high,” Mac answered. “So she needed insulin. We gave her ten units.”