Duskwood: Love's Beginning

35 - Jayna

It was hot, smoky, and terrifying down in the mine. But I was determined and would not leave until I had no other choice. "Jake! Richy!" I called out, covering my mouth with my shirt.

When neither answered, I crouched low and pulled out my phone. I texted Jake; still offline and he didn't answer. I sent him a quick message: I love you. Please be safe. 

Then I called Richy's phone again. I heard a faint ringing in the distance. With my eyes burning and a throat clogged with soot, I followed the sound until I saw Richy slumped against a wall.

"Richy!" I cried. "You have to wake up!" I felt a weak pulse. I tightened the loose bandage on his arm, wincing as my hands came away with blood. I rubbed my knuckles against his chest and he moaned quietly. "C'mon, Richy. It's Jayna. Time to go now."

Somehow, I convinced him to stumble to his feet with my help and slung his good arm over my shoulder to keep him upright. His eyes were only opened halfway and glazed over; he swayed dangerously, threatening to drag us both to the ground. "Richy Roger!" I said in a stern voice. "Are you really going to break Jessy's heart like this? She needs you! LET'S GO!!!"

Richy's eyes widened, a little clearer now. "Jayna," he whispered, then started coughing. I used this opportunity to drag him along to the ladder.

"Climb," I ordered. I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest to try to lift him up, but he might as well be made of granite. He grasped weakly at the ladder but stayed in place, head pointed toward the floor. I kicked the back of his shoe to get him moving, and thankfully, he did.

I was holding up most of the weight of a 180-pound man going up the narrow ladder. My hands placed his on the rungs, and my knees at the back of his legs urged him to lift up to the next step. His back leaned heavily against my front and my face was turned to the side so I could breathe. But somehow, we moved upward at a snail's pace. I kept talking to him the whole time, telling him that I needed him, that Jessy needed him. That we all loved him and forgave him.

Finally, I could see the sky above and the flashing lights. I heard Hannah cry out, and what seemed like dozens of law enforcement personnel were surrounding us, with their guns drawn and shouting. I saw a man I recognized from pictures online as Alan Bloomgate among them.

"Alan," I croaked as loudly as I could over their commands. Richy was completely slumped over at this point, and my arms and legs shook with the effort of keeping him from sliding back down the ladder. "I'm Jayna Chacon. Since you all didn't seem to be able to save Richy on your own, I decided I needed to come to do it for you."

At Alan's word, a few people stepped forward to lift Richy out and lay him on his back, then helped me out as well. In the background, Alan was trying to convince everyone else to lower their weapons. I heard Hannah crying. But all I cared about was Richy's condition. I didn't see any ambulances yet, so I looked him over myself. The blood glistened on his arm and he was unconscious again. I checked his pulse, and his breathing..neither was present. "No!" I screamed.

I started doing CPR. Hannah pushed through and sat by my side, holding Richy's hand and wailing. I ignored my panic and despair and kept going until paramedics arrived. They took over as I kneeled on the dirt, small stones biting into my knees. I felt fingers linked with mine and saw Hannah next to me, intent upon Richy. The medics recovered a pulse and respiration, and bundled him into the ambulance. When I moved to go with him, Hannah grabbed my arm.

"Please, can I go?" I nodded, and she hugged me quickly, thanked me, and hurried away. I sat back on the ground, numb, as Alan approached me.

"Jayna," he said. "I've explained to the FBI that you have been cooperating with me on this case. They are allowing you to go free–for now. However, I must insist that you see a doctor. I'll drive you."

He pulled me to my feet. And suddenly, what I had blocked out came back. I pulled out my phone. Still no texts from Jake. I turned to go back into the mine, but firefighters were already in place and the FBI blocked my way when I tried to go around them. Sobbing and coughing, I was about to collapse when Alan caught me. "Poor girl," he muttered. He half-walked, half-carried me to his car, and put me in the passenger seat. I closed my eyes and shut out his attempts at conversation.

At the hospital, I sat in a daze as a doctor examined me in what looked like an Emergency Department. Staff came and went, talking around me. Later, I was wheeled on a gurney into an elevator and then a hospital room, where a kind nurse took off my soot-stained hoodie and scrubs, helped me clean up, and put a gown on me. I sat, limp and drained, through it all. I knew what was happening around me, but I was watching from afar. An IV was placed in my arm, and a nasal cannula to help my lungs recover, and I was urged to lie back against the pillow. The nurse was murmuring quietly about what she was doing, but I felt like I was trying to listen from underwater, and none of it registered. Soon, exhaustion overwhelmed me and I drifted off to sleep.