Джеймс Паттерсон: The Red Book

“Billy, you okay?”

I turn. Lanny Soscia, part of the SOS squad. “Can’t find Carla!” I shout.

We look through the debris, pieces of roof, wall, furniture. I break into another coughing spasm. Someone hands me a gas mask.

Then I remember my phone, buzzing just before the explosion. I check it; the call came from Carla. I press the button to call her back and look around.

Through the darkness, only a few feet to my right, a phone lights up.

“Over here!” I rush over, slide down. Carla is lying underneath a slab of concrete that covers her body up to her shoulders.

Her eyes are shut. She looks…she doesn’t look…

“I’m here, kiddo, I’m here.” Her face is painted soot black. I touch her neck and feel a faint pulse.

“Over here!” I yell. “Officer down! We need a medevac!”

Carla coughs, spraying blood, and opens her eyes. I put my hand over her face, trying to shield her as I lie down on the ground next to her. “You’re gonna be fine,” I lie.

Her eyes narrow, a smile without a smile.

Sosh runs up with several officers.

“We gotta get this thing off her,” I say. I try to push on it. Heavy is an understatement, but all we need to do is raise it enough for someone else to pull her out.

“Should we be moving her?” Sosh asks, bent down.

He might be right. You don’t move someone with suspected spinal injuries if you don’t have to. “We can at least get this thing off her,” I say. “Everyone at once; we can do it.”

I bend down to Carla. “Put on this mask, Carla, so you don’t have to breathe this shit.”

I lower the mask to her face. In her weakened state, she manages to bat it away. “Tell Darryl…I love him and I’m…counting…counting on him now.”

“ You tell him,” I say. “When you see him later.”

Even in her dazed, battered condition, she manages to shoot me a knowing look. “Tell my baby…his mama loves him.”

“He knows that,” I say, choking up. “Samuel knows, but you’re gonna tell him yourself, goddamn it!”

Officers scramble around us, trying to figure out how to remove this massive concrete wall off Carla’s body.

She winces. “Did the girl…did…”

“The girl’s fine,” I tell her. “You saved her, Carla.”

She rests her head back on the ground, closes her eyes.

“Put on the mask,” I say, “and we’ll get this thing off you.”

Officers have placed tire jacks on each side of the concrete slab, while the others prepare to move the concrete.

Carla wets her lips and tries to speak. “Come…closer.”

I get as close as I can, practically nose to nose on the grass. My hand wiping the soot from her face, caressing her cheek. “I’m here,” I manage, hardly able to speak.

“You saved…my life,” she whispers. “You…know that.” She grimaces from the pain. Tears well up and fall sideways to the grass.

The concrete slab starts to lift, the tire jacks raising it off the ground and a dozen officers struggling to get purchase under it.

“You saved mine, too,” I tell her, making my voice work. “That’s what partners do. We stick together.” I take her hand in mine. “We’re always gonna stick together. You think I’m gonna let you off this easy? You and me, we’re gonna retire together. You and me and Darryl, we’re gonna sit in rocking chairs and tell war stories.”

With the help of the tire jacks, the officers get enough momentum, pushing the concrete up to a ninety-degree angle and then toppling it over in the other direction.

Revealing an area of grass untouched by the soot. But covered with Carla’s blood.

“That’s better,” Carla whispers, her eyes closed.

“Good,” I say. “Medevac’s on its way. Hang with me, kid. C’mon, hang with me.”

She doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t open her eyes.

“Carla!” I shout.

“Carla,” I whisper.