I slowly started to regain consciousness, cool air blowing hard on my face, the hard ground under me digging into my bones. I opened my heavy eyes, looking around confusedly, trying to identify where I am. I'm on the bank of a river, surrounded by debris from the storm. I am truly disoriented, but I refuse to give up, sitting up and wincing in pain as a sharp sting in my leg shook me to the core. A broken scrap of metal dug into my thigh, the blood seeping slowly though the wound. If I dared to remove this from my leg, I'd bleed out and die. I'm only four years old; only the roar of the sea nearby kept me awake, but I didn't dare hope for a rescue. I didn't even last past four years old with a family in this life, and I didn't even have one in my past life. If I could die again, I wouldn't even be upset.
I continued to persevere through the pain, the blood loss beginning to take its toll on me. My vision is shaking, and my eyes are heavy. I desperately try to keep them open, my mind wandering into its own depths, slipping in and out of consciousness. My heart is racing, the pain and effort to stay awake causing my breath to come out in short gasps. My stomach clenched with each breath, my lungs squeezing. With the last of my strength, my weak voice barely audible, I let out one last plea.
"Someone help me, please..."
It felt like hours passed, the sunset oddly beautiful among such wreckage. The air is getting colder, the chill seeping into my bones. I start to shiver, gritting my teeth hard to stop, but my body refused to listen. The pain in my leg is overwhelming, my limps twitching uncontrollably. I look up at the sky, watching as the stars start to appear one by one. Darkness envelops me, a strange sense of peace washing over me.
Once again, its the dark night at sea that greets me, and the stars that say goodbye.
***
The sound of voices and footsteps pierced through the darkness, flashlights sweeping over the wreckage. Several people in navy blue unforms spread out, the logo of the local emergency response team emblazoned on the front. The rescue searchers move through the area, chatting amongst themselves to pass the time. None of them figured there were survivors, it was a body count, to bring the deceased home to their family - so they moved leisurely.
"Ugh, this is gonna take forever. We've been out here for hours already." A young man grumbled.
"I know, but we have to keep looking. We can't leave anyone behind." An older voice retorted, reproach evident in his voice.
"Yeah, I get that. But it's getting dark and we haven't found a single live body. Don't you think we're wasting our time?"
"We can't give up hope. Someone could still be waiting out there, and we could be their last chance."
The young man rolled his eyes, "I just don't understand why we have to be the ones doing this. It's not like we are even trained for this. We are just first responders!"
"We don't have a choice. We're the only ones available right now, and there are people who need our help." one of the men a bit farther out joined in the conversation.
The older man nods, "Exactly, we may not be experts but we're still the best chance these people have of getting out here alive or finding their loved ones body."
"Over here!!" The man out father yells out, "I think he's alive! Its a little kid. Hey, buddy, we're here to help you" he says, not caring whether the boy can hear him or not. He just wants to let him know he's safe.
The older man kneels down next to the boy, taking a look at his injuries. "He has a perforating wound, a metal crowbar through his thigh. He appears to be 4-6 years old."
The rescuers work quickly, aiming to dress the boy up enough to get him to the hospital. They apply gauze to all the injuries and cuts on his body, wrapping gauze around the crowbar embedded in his thigh, stabilizing it so it doesn't shift and cause more injury before the doctor can remove it. One of the other rescuers inject the boy with pain medicine in accordance with his age, lifting him onto a stretcher board once he's stabilized, rushing to beat time.
The rescuers work together to navigate through the debris and rough terrain, carrying this small boy in hopes to save him. As they move further away from the river, the sound of the rushing water faded into the background.
The rescuers finally reach their destination; a makeshift triage area set up near a temporary medical facility. They carefully lower the board, transferring the small boy into a waiting gurney, Doctors and nurses swarming around him, assessing his condition.
The rescuers watched the boy as he was prepped for transfer to the nearest hospital, silently praying for survival.
***
I woke up to the sound of a hospital monitor beeping, the smell of disinfectant strangely comforting. I could hear the squeaks of people walking on the waxed hospital floors, the distinct sound of the wheels of a hospital bed moving down the hall passing by his room. When I opened my eyes, I saw the bright rectangle lights on the ceiling. I still felt groggy, but I needed to know where I was. I see an IV drip connected to my arm, the monitor displaying my vital signs. I shift slightly, wincing at the pain in my leg. I look at my leg, noticing that a metal frame is encasing it from my ankle to my thigh. The sight is a bit unsettling. The frame is attached to my leg with screws and metal plates, holding the bones in place as they heal. It's clear that my leg injury was pretty severe. The metal frame feels foreign and strange against my skin, and who knows how long I'll be trapped with this device. I tried to sit up more, but the movement sent intense pain shooting through my leg, causing me to grit my teeth and sink back against the pillows, feeling helpless and frustrated.
The sound of the heart rate monitor started beeping faster and faster, alerting the nurses outside the room. They quickly make their way inside, seeing that the boy is awake and in distress. One of the nurses approaches the boy on the bed, concern on her face. "Hey, it's okay. Just relax - you are safe here."
The nurse gently patted my back, pushing me into the pillows and adjusting them for me comfortably. " I know you're in pain, but you need to try and stay as still as possible. Your leg needs to heal, and moving around too much could make things worse"
The nurse checks the IV drip, ensuring the right amount of pain medicine and calming medicine is flowing properly. "I gave you something for the pain, okay? It will help you take the edge off and you'll feel better. Be a strong boy, okay?" she rubs my hair out of my face, "It's also okay to cry. Its okay to be strong and to ask for help. Can you tell me your name, honey? How old are you?"
The nurse keeps asking questions, but he doesn't respond. She notices that his eyes are filled with fear and helplessness, making it clear he's having trouble communicating even if he may want to. She tries a different tactic.
"Wow! You're so smart to survive. Can you tell me your age with your fingers?" Her voice rings out sweetly. I cringed inside - I appear as four but I'm really an adult, okay?! Grudgingly, I hold out my four small stubby fingers.
"So your four - Wow! You're so big for your age, look at how you can tell me your age. You're so smart!" The nurse takes my blood pressure, still pressing for more information.
"Do you know where your family is?" I shake my head no.
"Do you have family?" I shake my head no.
"Do you know your birthday?" I shake my head no.
"Do you know your address?" I shake my head no.
"Are you allergic to anything?" I shake my head no.
"Are you feeling better?" I shake my head yes.
"Do you know your name?" I shake my head yes.
This interaction is a bit... weird right?
"If I get a pen and paper, can you write your name for me honey?" I shake my head yes.
I typed my name into her phone on notes with my small stubby fingers.
Damien.
"Nice to meet you Damien. We'll treat you right. Get some rest baby boy." with one last rub on my head, she tucked me into the blanket, adjusting the pillows. The medicine started to kick in, my eyes fluttering shut into a medicated sleep.