Sick

32

Martina and Jilly climbed down off the roof as the Jeep returned. By then, many of the rest of the people stranded in Cryer’s Corner had come outside to see what all the noise was about. Word of what had happened spread quickly.

When the Jeep pulled to a stop, several people crowded around. The guy who’d been on the motorcycle was a mess. He looked like he’d been rolling in dirt for weeks, then had the side of his head dipped in blood.

There was something familiar about him, but Martina couldn’t place it. This thought, though, was soon forgotten as the cute college boy came around and helped the motorcycle rider out of the Jeep.

“I don’t suppose anyone here’s a doctor?” College Boy asked.

“My dad is,” Amy Rhodes said.

“Yeah, but he’s not here, is he?” Jilly asked.

“Isn’t Coach Delger a nurse?” someone asked.

“Yeah, I think she is,” Martina said. “Where is she?”

“Last I saw her, she was in the cafe,” Amy told them, no doubt trying to redeem herself.

When no one moved right away, Martina said, “I’ll get her.”

She raced over to the cafe and rushed inside. There were only three people there — an old woman behind the counter, and Coach Driscoll and Coach Delger in one of the booths. The coaches both had their backs against the window, with their legs stretched out, and seemed to be asleep.

“Coach Delger?” Martina called out as she ran over.

Both coaches cracked open their eyes.

“What is it, Martina?” Coach Driscoll asked. She was the head coach. Coach Delger was a volunteer from town.

“Someone’s hurt. And we thought…well, Coach Delger, you’re a nurse, right?”

Both of the women sprang to life and pushed themselves out of the booth.

“Where?” Coach Delger asked.

“Outside. Some guy on a motorcycle got thrown to the ground.”

Coach Delger raced ahead and shot out the door.

“Medical student,” Coach Driscoll whispered to Martina as they followed. “Her residency starts after the end of the season.”

“A student? Oh, uh, maybe we should ask around and see if anyone else is a nurse.”

“She’ll do just fine,” Coach Driscoll told her.

As soon as Martina stepped back outside, she saw that the college boy had an arm around the motorcyclist and they were both walking toward the cafe. Coach Delger ran up beside them and took a quick look at the injured rider. She then glanced over at Martina.

“Open the door,” she called out.

Once they were inside, the college boy helped the rider to a corner booth. It was one of those circular kinds that could fit a lot of people and had a correspondingly large table. Coach Delger had the injured kid sit on the table, then told Martina to get everyone else outside.

“You heard her,” Martina announced to the group who’d followed them in. “Everyone out.”

Soon she had the place cleared, but since the coach hadn’t specifically told her to leave, she returned to the table.

She’d barely walked up when Coach Delger said, “Martina, I need you to look for a first-aid kit. There’s got to be one here somewhere.” Before Martina could leave, she added, “And I’ll need some warm water and towels to clean him up, too.”

Martina found the old woman in the kitchen already filling up a large bowl with water.

“I heard her,” the woman said, then nodded toward the back of the room. “First-aid kit’s hanging on the wall by the bathroom. Just lift it and it’ll come right off.”

The kit was a large metal box. Martina got it off the wall and carried it back into the dining area. When she got back to the table, the coach was examining the rider’s head where all the blood was.

“Not too bad,” Coach Delger said. “A cut and a little bump. I’m guessing you were wearing a helmet, right?”

“Yeah,” the boy said.

“Some of the cushion missing on the inside?”

“A little.”

Smirking, she said, “Get a new helmet and that won’t happen next time.”

The old woman came out of the kitchen with the water and some towels.

“Susan,” Coach Delger said to Coach Driscoll. “Can you clean up his head? I’m going to check if there’s anything else wrong.”

“Sure,” Coach Driscoll said. She grabbed a towel and got it wet.

“My knee,” the boy said.

“Which one?”

“Left. From before.”

“Before?”

He gave a little shrug. “Not my first crash today. Dislocated it.”

While Coach Delger used a pair of scissors from the first-aid kit to cut away his pants leg, the boy looked at Martina.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“We were at a softball tournament. Got stuck outside the quarantine zone on our way home.”

“Did you win?”

She figured he was just trying to distract himself from his pain. “Second place out of sixteen teams. Not too bad.”

“Go Burros,” he said.

She smiled for a second, then looked down. She wasn’t wearing one of her school shirts. Maybe someone outside was. That must have been it.

“Yeah, go Burros.”

“Who did most of the pitching? You or Sandra?”

Martina wasn’t the only one who was suddenly staring at the rider. Both coaches had stopped what they were doing and were looking at him, too.

“Do I know you?” Martina asked.

“Do I look that bad?”

She squinted her eyes, studying him. “You look familiar, but…”

“Spanish class,” he said.

“Paul?”

“Hey, Martina.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Coach Driscoll asked.

“This is Paul Unger,” Martina said, surprised. “He goes to Burroughs, too.”

“What were you doing out there on a motorcycle?” Coach Driscoll asked.

Paul got a faraway look in his eyes, and the small smile that had been on his lips disappeared. “Trying not to die.”

They got the whole story out of him.

As soon as Coach Delger realized he’d come from the quarantine zone, she immediately segregated everyone into two groups: those who had come in contact with Paul, and those who hadn’t.

The hardest part of the story to believe was the deaths of Nick and Lisa. That was until he showed them the video.

It was Martina’s idea, however, to post it on the Internet.