The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [10]
“Listen, don’t try to talk. You’re pretty banged up. My name is Taylor McAden, and I’m with the fire department. I’ve got a radio in my car. I’m gonna get you help.”
She rolled her head, focusing on him with blurry eyes. She did her best to concentrate, to make her words as clear as possible.
“You have my son, don’t you?”
She knew what the answer would be, what it should be, but strangely, it didn’t come. Instead he seemed to need extra time to translate the words in the same way that Kyle did. His mouth contorted just a little, almost sluggishly, then he shook his head.
“No . . . I just got here. . . . Your son?”
It was then—while looking in his eyes and imagining the worst—that the first jolt of fear shot through her. Like a wave, it started crashing and she felt herself sinking inward, as she had when she’d learned of her mother’s death.
Lightning flashed again, and thunder followed almost immediately. The rain poured from the sky, and the man wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“My son was in the back! Have you seen him?” The words came out clearly, forcefully enough to startle the man at the window, to awaken the last of her deadened senses.
“I don’t know—” In the sudden downpour, he hadn’t understood what she was trying to tell him.
Denise struggled to get out of the car, but the seat belt across her lap held her fast. She unbuckled it quickly, ignoring the pain in her wrist and elbow. The man took an involuntary step backward as Denise forced the door open, using her shoulder because the door had crumpled slightly from the impact. Her knees were swollen from smashing into the console, and she almost lost her balance as she stood.
“I don’t think you should be moving—”
Holding on to the car for support, she ignored the man as she moved around the car, toward the opposite side, where Kyle’s door stood open.
No, no, no, no . . .
“Kyle!”
In disbelief, she bent inside to look for him. Her eyes scanned the floor, then back to the seat again, as if he might magically reappear. Blood rushed to her head, bringing with it a piercing pain that she ignored.
Where are you? Kyle . . .
“Lady . . .” The man from the fire department followed her around the car, seemingly uncertain of what to do or what was going on or why this lady who was covered in blood was suddenly so agitated.
She cut him off by grabbing his arm, her eyes boring directly into his.
“You haven’t seen him? A little boy . . . brown hair?” The words were tinged with genuine panic. “He was in the car with me!”
“No, I—”
“You’ve got to help me find him! He’s only four!”
She whirled around, the rapid movement almost making her lose her balance. She grabbed hold of the car again. The corners of her vision faded to black as she struggled to keep the dizziness at bay. The scream came out despite the spinning in her mind.
“Kyle!”
Pure terror now.
Concentrating . . . closing one eye to help her focus . . . getting clearer again. The storm was in full fury now. Trees not twenty feet away were difficult to see through the rain. It was absolute darkness in that direction . . . only the path to the highway was clear.
Oh God.
The highway . . .
She could feel her feet slipping in the mud-soaked grass, she could hear herself drawing short, rapid gasps as she staggered toward the road. She fell once, got up again, and kept going. Finally understanding, the man ran after her, catching her before she reached the road. His eyes scanned the area around him.
“I don’t see him. . . .”
“Kyle!” She screamed it as loud as she could, praying inside as she did it. Despite being nearly drowned out by the storm, the sound prompted Taylor into further action.
They took off in opposite directions, both shouting Kyle’s name independently, both stopping occasionally to listen for sound. The rain, however, was deafening. After a couple of minutes Taylor ran back to his car and made a call to the fire station.
The two voices