The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

Ten years had passed since she had last seen him but it felt like a time-slip; it could have been yesterday. Only, how was it possible that he looked better than that last night in London? His wan, urban pallor was now replaced by a deep tan; his hair was longer, shaggier, and with a few sun-tinted caramel highlights; he had always been lean but he had broadened in the shoulders and thighs. He was a man now and not the man-child she had known.

Jed slumped suddenly, his knees buckling from the effort to remain standing, and she felt her own go too. Alex lurched forwards, moving from hologram to three-dimensional truth as he went to catch Jed, who cried out from the pain of his arm and shoulder jolting.

‘Sorry, bud. I’m sorry.’ Alex winced as, in a stroke, Tara felt Jed’s weight being lifted off her as he was helped towards the chair.

‘. . . What happened?’ Alex asked her, his pale eyes burning with alarm.

‘He was attacked by someone,’ she said, watching now as he manoeuvred her old friend carefully into sitting down, taking care not to jog his broken arm again.

Alex looked back at her sharply. ‘And you?’

She shook her head. ‘Jed was ahead of me. I don’t think they knew I was there.’

Alex stared at her with narrowed eyes for a moment as though debating whether he believed that. He looked back at the patient. ‘. . . Jed? Can you hear me, buddy?’ Alex crouched down in front of him, looking more closely at the crudely splinted arm. For the first time, Tara realized she was standing there in just her bra and jean shorts.

‘His arm’s broken in two places, shoulder was dislocated. And he’s badly concussed. We need to get him to a hospital asap. He needs a CT.’

Alex thought for a moment, then stood up, bringing his walkie-talkie back to his mouth. His thumb pressed on a button and the room filled with static again, like the swarm of a million mosquitoes. It was not an enticing thought and Tara scratched herself mindlessly, realizing a miniature army had feasted on her in the oppressive humidity, her shirt off, as she helped Jed stagger along.

‘Base to Torto One, over.’ Alex walked across the room, towards the door, waiting for a response. It came within moments.

‘Torto one, responding to Base, over.’

‘Medical emergency,’ he said in easy Spanish. ‘Mora and Jimenez back to Base asap. Bring the stretcher. Over.’

‘Roger that. Over and out.’

Alex turned back to them, glancing at the pitiful scene, but he didn’t say anything. He reached for the phone on the desk and punched some numbers in. Tension infused every movement. He looked almost angry, his jaw set in a firm position.

‘Hello, yes,’ he said, lapsing into Spanish again as though he was a native. He seemed so . . . at home here. ‘This is Alex Carter at the rangers’ base station in Tremain Talamanca Park. We have a medical emergency. One man, late-thirties, arm broken in two places, dislocated shoulder, head injury and concussion. Arm is splinted and stabilized. Requesting ambulance at Marzano Highway, junction nine, in . . .’ His gaze went up to a clock on the wall as he made a mental calculation. ‘Two hours twenty minutes.’

Tara felt her stomach clench at his words. Another two-and-a-half-hour wait before Jed could even be transferred to an ambulance. And then how long would it be to the nearest hospital? And what facilities would it have? Did it even have a scanner? Every minute counted with head injuries.

He put the phone down and turned back to them. ‘Help’s coming.’

Tara felt a burst of irritation. Help was coming? Like he’d done the hard part? He’d saved them?

He stood there for a moment, staring at her again like she was the one who’d been beaten up, then left the room.

Tara stared after him in bafflement. Now where had he gone?

Beside her, Jed groaned, his head rolling back.

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ she said, taking his good hand and squeezing it lightly. ‘Help’s on the way. We’re safe now.’

‘Paco—’

‘Paco’s . . .’ What could she say? ‘Paco’s okay. He’s the same as he was. Let’s just concentrate on you for the moment.’

‘Nnnn . . .’ Jed protested, his eyes fluttering. Without warning, he pitched forward and began to vomit.

Tara grabbed the desk bin and positioned it beneath him as he retched and heaved. This was a bad sign. ‘It’s okay,’ she soothed him, slowly rubbing his back.

Alex came back in with a pile of uniforms, neatly folded. He took in the latest development in silence.

‘Is there somewhere we can lie him down?’ she asked.

‘Yes, there’s a bed in the back.’

‘That would be better.’

She stepped back, allowing Alex to support Jed’s weight and lever him back to standing again. She felt so weak now, her muscles stiff and sore from having supported eighty per cent of the weight of a ninety-five-kilo man for two hours.

They went through to a tiny room at the back of the building. It had no windows at all and was only big enough to accommodate a single mattress and a chair. They got Jed sitting down on the bed.

‘We need to get these wet clothes off him,’ Tara said. ‘Hypothermia’s a complication we could do without.’

But with his arm strapped and bound, there was only one way to do it. Alex went back to the office, returning moments later with a pair of scissors and a towel. They cut his shirt off and Tara dried him carefully. Then, lying him down, they took off his boots, socks and trousers. Covering him with the towel, she cut off his soaking-wet underpants too and covered him with the blanket. ‘We need to keep him warm.’

‘And you.’ Alex swept a cautionary look over her, reminding her she too was soaked to the bone – and half-dressed. ‘There’s some dry clothes out there.’

Without another word, she went back to the office and rifled through the stack of ranger uniforms he’d left on the desk. They were the same as he was wearing,