First Responder On Call. Melinda Di Lorenzo
you.”
Still nothing.
He swiped the rain off his chin and squinted through his glasses, considering whether both Celia and his gut feeling were off. He tossed another quick look her way. From a few feet back, she looked smaller and more vulnerable.
Shouldn’t have left her lying there.
He moved to go back to her, but sirens cut through the air then, startling him so badly that he jumped. He stumbled a little, trying to catch his footing. He wasn’t quite successful. Cursing his own overreaction, he put out a hand to stop himself from doing a face-plant. The new position—one knee on the ground, body bent over—gave a different perspective.
Between the split cushions of the car seat was a gap that led to the trunk. And inside that gap was an unmistakable object. A small, limp hand.
The sirens he’d been counting on and the flashing lights that accompanied them became secondary. Remo raced over the puddle-drenched ground, desperate to free the child from inside the trunk.
The trunk. What in God’s name was he doing in there?
He brushed off the question as secondary, too. Something he could deal with later. He reached the rear end of the car just as the first emergency vehicle arrived. Vaguely, he noted that it was an ambulance. A good thing, because he would likely know whoever rode in it.
He stared at the tiny hand for a tenth of a second before deciding two things. One, he shouldn’t wait for anyone else, and two, he shouldn’t try to go in through the trunk itself. He dropped to his knees, stuck his own hands into the crack and pulled. At first, he met with resistance. Then the seat groaned. It creaked. And finally, it cracked and sprung forward. Soaking wet pieces of fabric and shards of plastic flew out, and a chunk of foam smacked Remo directly in the forehead, then stuck there. He brushed it away, straightened his glasses, then bent down. His breath burned at what he saw.
The little boy was splayed out on his back, his legs spread wide, the one arm flung near Remo, the other tucked up on his chest. He had his thumb jammed in his mouth, which hung slightly ajar, and his eyes were wide-open.
For a moment, Remo feared the worst. Then the boy—Xavier, he reminded himself—blinked slowly. He pulled his thumb from between his lips and reached out his arms. The needy gesture tugged at Remo’s heart, and without thinking it through, he bypassed protocol. He leaned deep into the trunk, slipped his hand under the kid, then scooped the boy to his chest.
“You’re okay, Xavier,” he said gently. “I’ve got you, kiddo.”
He pushed to his feet, spun, and just about smacked straight into one of the first responders. He recognized him immediately—a senior EMT known for his by-the-book standards. Of all colleagues, this man was his least favorite. The one he’d least want to run into, even under normal circumstance.
He forced himself to back up and nodded an acknowledgment. “Isaac.”
The older man blinked. “Remo?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Lucky coincidence.”
Isaac glanced down at Xavier. “What are you doing now?”
“Saving this kid’s life.” His voice was embarrassingly thick with emotion.
“You moved him?”
“Had to.”
Isaac’s eyes went from the boy’s small body to a spot over Remo’s shoulder to the shattered vehicle. He opened his mouth. Before he could speak, though, a thunderous rattle came from all around. Something popped. And from the corner of his eye, Remo spotted the source.
The electrical pole.
A crack as wide as his arm split the damned thing down the middle. Its two pieces shuddered, then tilted. One went backward, but the other came forward, and as they watched, it fell fast and hard. Straight into the car.
Remo wished he could feel smug. Instead, he just felt relieved. Maybe a bit stunned. He swung back to Isaac, but the other man didn’t acknowledge the fortuitous result of his rule breaking.
“Guess you moved the woman, too?” he asked.
“She would’ve been electrocuted otherwise.”
“Fine. What’s done is done. I’ll get a gurney over here so you can put the kid down.”
Xavier buried himself in Remo’s chest, his small hands gripping his shirt tightly.
“I don’t need a gurney. I’ll hold him in the back.”
Isaac blinked. “What?”
Remo shook his head, not buying the ignorant act for a second. “You heard me.”
The older man narrowed his eyes. “You want to keep ignoring protocol?”
“Done it twice in the last twenty minutes. Saved a woman and a kid. Think I’ll stick to my own rules for just a little while longer.”
“I’ll have to put it in the report.”
“Go for it.”
Isaac’s expression didn’t change, but the tightness in his jaw told Remo he was annoyed. The irritation rolled off him, and the seconds ticked by with neither of them backing down. Finally, the second EMT—a younger, part-time kid named Tyler—called out, breaking the tension that radiated through the air.
“Isaac! Need a hand over here, please!”
The older man twitched, then spun to offer his assistance. Remo didn’t bother to gloat. All he cared about was keeping his promise to Celia and making the kid feel safe. He stepped over to the ambulance, murmuring that Xavier’s mom would be fine, and explaining that he’d made sure himself that she’d be safe.
“It might be a little scary in the ambulance,” he said, “but it’s just science, and there’s nothing really scary about that, right?”
For the first time, Xavier pulled back and looked up into Remo’s face. His eyes were the same unusual shade of gray as Celia’s, and he had a smattering of freckles that matched hers, too. There was no doubt that the kid was her son.
“Science?” he repeated in a small, curious voice.
“Science,” Remo confirmed. “Do you like science?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too. Do you want me to take you inside so you can see?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay. Let’s get in before they bring your mom around, okay?”
Xavier nodded, and Remo used his height—six foot four, and sometimes an inconvenience but right that second an advantage—to propel them up together.
“One,” he grunted. “Two.”
“Three!” added the little boy, quiet, but almost gleeful, too.
“Wow.” Remo put some extra awe into the exclamation.
“What?”
“You can count.”
“Yeah.”
“I dunno. Are you old enough to count?”
“I’m five!”
Remo suppressed a chuckle and let out a whistle instead. “Holy cow.”
“How old are you?” the boy asked.
“Old.”
“That’s