Prognosis Bad Timing Read online

  Prognosis Bad Timing

  Amy Andrews

  Published by Amy Andrews, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  PROGNOSIS BAD TIMING

  First edition. January 18, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Amy Andrews.

  Written by Amy Andrews.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  EPILOGUE

  IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES – Chapter One

  MORE BOOKS FROM AMY ANDREWS

  This book was previously published as Found A Father For Her Child.

  Please note Australian/UK spelling used throughout.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Two more weeks. Two more weeks. Two more weeks.

  The words reverberated around Charlie Wentworth’s head in time with the squeak in his back wheel.

  Two more weeks until he could start living again.

  The regular Sunday visit with his parents had left him with that familiar bitter taste in his mouth. Between his family’s overt disapproval, the uncertainty over his health and tomorrow’s invasion from the hospital administrator, he had a lot on his mind.

  All he had to do was get through the next fortnight. Go through the motions. Co-operate with the hospital hatchet-wielder. See his patients. Keep focused. Go get the blood test. Wait for the results. Which would be negative.

  Then he could get on with living.

  Unless they were positive...Then what the hell was he going to do?

  He stepped on the accelerator out of pure frustration, the ancient Mazda straining and protesting. His life had been on hold for what felt like years - the separation, the divorce and now this. Gaining steadily on the car in front, Charlie eased his foot off the pedal. Blowing the gearbox wouldn’t bring the next fortnight to a close any faster.

  He just had to be patient. Once upon a time he’d had that in abundance.

  Not so much at the moment...

  Carrie Douglas flicked her gaze to the rear-view mirror and tensed as the car behind surged closer. Her headlights stabbed into the darkness and she prepared to dip her high beam for when it overtook. It didn’t, though, falling back to a safe distance again and she relaxed.

  Driving at night on an unfamiliar road made her nervous especially when she was carrying such precious cargo. Dana’s blonde head drew her attention. It was slumped to one side, her cute face relaxed in a deep sleep, her ancient blanky snuggled against her cheek.

  It was at times like these she realised there was only so much a mother could do to protect her child.

  So much more was out of her control.

  Thoughts about the job she was starting tomorrow turned over and over in her mind as she flicked her gaze back to the road. The hospital was sending her in to sort out the financial mess of one of their inner-city outreach programmes.

  As far as projects went it looked pretty tedious but with her combined business and medical degree, she was perfect for the job. And it wouldn’t be long now until her hard work paid dividends.

  There were rumours she was being considered for promotion to department head. Both Anaesthetics and Paediatrics were coming up for renewal. From there it would be an easy springboard into the real management hierarchy. In five years she was hoping to make Deputy Medical Director.

  Glass ceiling be damned!

  It was the only thing in her life that mattered other than Dana. She needed financial security for her daughter and herself and to show everyone that her unplanned career diversion had been successful.

  Losing sight of her goal was not an option.

  She’d even left the family wedding early so she could catch a decent eight hours’ sleep to ensure she was in good condition for tomorrow’s job.

  Carrie saw the headlights of an approaching car illuminate the horizon and adjusted her headlights in preparation. She chewed at her bottom lip, going over everything in her head as the approaching car grew bigger. She glanced in the rear-view mirror again. The car behind was keeping a respectful distance.

  But when she returned her attention to the road in front the oncoming car had started to drift across the centre line.

  “Holy crap!” Carrie stomped on the brake pedal as the fancy red vehicle came at her, putting them on a collision course.

  Her entire life flashed before her eyes as, for a split second, the world stopped. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears nothing else registered. It pounded so frantically in her chest her whole body shook with its agitated rhythm. And then panic and instinct took over and she pulled hard on the steering-wheel.

  Please, God, don’t take me away from Dana.

  Carrie held her breath as the red car passed in a blur and for a moment she thought she was safe. But then the red car clipped the rear of hers and she felt her head snap forward, her seatbelt snap tight and her head fling back again, slamming into her headrest as her vehicle spun wildly round and round in the centre of the road.

  ‘Dana,’ Carrie called, turning frantically, ignoring the pain in her neck as they came to a stop in the middle of the road. Her daughter’s eyes fluttered open briefly and then she stuck her thumb in her mouth and stroked her blanky against her cheek.

  Dana’s grandmother had always said she could sleep through an explosion and for that, tonight, Carrie was thankful, as a surge of relief washed through her body.

  Dana was fine. Dana was fine. Her baby was fine.

  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  She laid her forehead against the steering-wheel and took some deep calming breaths, the immediate shock giving away to the euphoric feeling of having just dodged a bullet.

  Charlie swore as he watched the trajectory of the red car on some kind of horrifying slow motion. It had changed on contact with the car in front, flipping, rising up over his Mazda, narrowly missing him as if it had been engineered to do so.

  Like some Hollywood movie stunt.

  He looked in his rear-view mirror as it made contact with the road behind him, smashing into the bitumen with teeth-jarring velocity and rolling several more times before coming to rest on its wheels in a mass of mangled metal and shattered glass. The remaining headlight shone brokenly on the unmoving form lying in the middle of the road.

  It took a few seconds for the doctor in Charlie to respond to the inert form, shock blunting his reactions. He opened his door, knowing he had to get to the victim lying on the road. But his eyes flicked to the other car that had come to a standstill in the centre of the road not far from him. The person inside was sitting at the steering-wheel, unmoving.

  Was this person also injured? Were there two potential victims?

  The golden rule of triage — the most critical first. He looked back at the person on the road. Was he even alive? Could he have survived being flung out of a vehicle at high speed? Charlie doubted it.

  Running to the first vehicle, he wrenched open the door. ‘Are you OK?’

  Carrie startled at the brisk demand coming back from the quagmire of her shock. Her heart was hammering like a runaway train, her hands still gripping the steering-wheel.

  Was she OK?

  She’d been too concerned with Dana to notice. Her neck hurt a little. It was tender when she twisted it to the very limit of its capabilities but otherwise it seemed OK. Probably some minor whiplash. Still, that could be debilitating if it was bad enough. She’d get an X-
ray some time tomorrow to be sure.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Charlie gave her a quick visual once-over. She didn’t seem to have any obvious injuries. He nodded. ‘I have to go see to the other driver.’ He indicated with his head.

  Carrie nodded, noticing the very still person lying on the road for the first time. ‘Yes,’ she said. And then the man was gone.

  Charlie popped the boot of his car and pulled out his medical kit, complete with oxygen and suction. In his line of work, he needed a fully stocked kit ready to go in his car at a moment’s notice, and tonight he was grateful that he’d decided to irritate his father and drive the Mazda.

  If he’d been driving the BMW, he’d have been up the creek without a paddle.

  Sprinting to the inert form, Charlie’s brain processed all the possibilities. It was a man. A middle-aged man. Had he fallen asleep at the wheel or had there been a medical emergency like a heart attack or a stroke that had caused him to veer into their path?

  Charlie donned a pair of gloves and methodically assessed the man as drilled into him during his student years.

  D. R. A. B. C. H.

  Danger. Response. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. Haemorrhage.

  The man was unresponsive. Unconscious. His airway was compromised, his gurgling respirations concerning. He was breathing. Just. He had a pulse. But it was rapid and weak.

  His face was covered in blood.

  Charlie looked at the car and noticed the massive hole in the windscreen. The man must have been catapulted out through the glass, sustaining numerous lacerations. A quick head-to-toe check revealed multiple contusions, bilateral fractured tibias and what appeared to be a major bleed from the femoral artery if the bright, pulsing blood from the man’s groin was any indication.

  Great! He tore the fabric of the man’s jeans, pulled a wad of gauze out of his kit and placed it over the bleeding site, applying firm, even pressure.

  He needed help.

  Flipping open his phone, he dialled triple zero with one hand and prayed for service in an area that was generally sketchy at best. The nearest ambulance station was twenty minutes away.

  ‘Hey, lady, I could use a hand here,’ he shouted into the stillness of the night while he waited for the operator.

  Carrie jumped, snapped out of her daze by the urgency of the man’s voice, strong and commanding despite their distance.

  Of course. She was a doctor, for goodness’ sake.

  But the thought of getting out of the car, of assisting the stranger, paralysed her with fear. The familiar dread descended on her and her heart hammered madly again. He didn’t know what he was asking.

  And anyway...she couldn’t leave Dana.

  Carrie watched him working as he spoke into the phone as if she was watching it on a television screen. Like it wasn’t really happening. He obviously had a medical background. He was calm and capable, with a huge box of medical supplies at his side.

  A strange feeling of disconnectedness draped like a thick, heavy cloak around her shoulders. Maybe it was the residual effects of shock. Maybe his appeal for help had tipped her over. Her hands shook as she thought about getting out of the car and lending a hand.

  She couldn’t do it.

  The mere thought was enough to make her hyperventilate. It terrified her more than the near collision.

  Charlie cursed as he hung up. They were coming, sending two road units and a chopper and alerting the nearby local rural fire brigade, but would it be soon enough? The man’s obstructive breathing sounded loud in the night filled otherwise only by insect song.

  Hell! The driver needed his airway managed as well as his haemorrhage, and he couldn’t do both.

  ‘Lady! Get your butt out of the car,’ he shouted, turning his head so he could pierce her with a look that was cross between commanding and desperate. ‘I’m trying to save a life here!’

  The man’s demand sliced through Carrie’s panic and touched the doctor she had shut away for too many years. Despite her shaking, despite the dryness of her mouth and the pounding of her heart, something inside responded to the stranger’s urgent appeal.

  She checked on Dana. Still asleep.

  Against her will, she opened the door and rose on legs that felt like two wet noodles.

  Charlie glanced up as the woman approached. Oh, hell. She was pale and visibly shaking, looking at the unconscious bleeding patient as if she’d never seen blood before. Like she was going to either faint or vomit. Or both.

  Great. She was going to be as useless as a screen door on a submarine. And yet...

  She’s all you’ve got, Charlie boy.

  ‘Gloves top drawer of the kit,’ he barked.

  If she didn’t snap out of this stupor they were both in trouble. Yes, she’d been through a lot tonight. No doubt she’d thought she’d been a goner at one stage but there was a life hanging in the balance and every second counted.

  Charlie didn’t have time to baby her. He only hoped she would respond automatically to his demands.

  Carrie crouched and pulled out a pair of gloves. Her movements stiff and robotic.

  ‘Down here. I need you to put your hand here.’ She didn’t move and Charlie almost lost it.

  ‘I...c-can’t.’ Her teeth chattered violently.

  Charlie bit his tongue and took a deep calming breath. ‘Look, lady, I know you’ve had a shock tonight but this is really, really important.’

  ‘I c-can’t.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I need firm, even pressure.’

  Charlie kept his voice quiet and composed despite the well of frustration rising inside him. Of all the people in the entire world tonight he was stuck with someone useless in an emergency. But then she surprised him by reaching out a shaking hand.

  Charlie removed his slowly on a rush of relief as she took his place. ‘Firm. Even. Do you understand?’

  She didn’t answer him, just stared with a look of horror at the blood covering her glove as if she’d never seen the substance before. But her technique was good and as long as she kept the pressure applied they could hopefully prevent this man from bleeding to death.

  And it freed Charlie up to manage the airway.

  Carrie didn’t feel the bite of the bitumen into her knees through the thin fabric of her hand-made, cotton, tie-dyed trousers. She didn’t hear the hum of insects or the stutter of her own panicked breath. She didn’t even hear the stranger rooting around in his medical kit.

  The injured man’s blood totally consumed her.

  She could feel its warmth though the thin barrier of latex. She could smell its pungent metallic aroma heavy on the warm night air. Knew that it would be sticky as it clotted around her hands.

  Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die.

  The chant helped her keep her mind off the roar of her own blood in her ears, the sweat beading her forehead, the nausea rolling through her intestines. Quickly she grabbed in some air, filling her lungs with it as fast as she could, over and over in time to the silent incantation.

  Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die.

  Charlie could hear his helper’s breathing as he applied an oxygen mask to the man’s face. If she kept it up, she was going to need the oxygen. ‘Hey,’ he said, forcing himself to minister to her needs for a few seconds. ‘You’re doing great, OK? Just slow your breathing down. Can you do that?’

  Carrie shook her head, as everything around her spun out of control. Her lips were tingling. Her gloved fingers, covered in blood, were tingling. ‘I can’t...b-breathe,’ she gasped.

  Charlie bit back an expletive. Christ, not now. ‘Yes, you can.’

  His conscience pricked at his impatience. This woman had dodged a potentially fatal collision tonight and now he was asking more. She could have been the victim here and what she probably needed more than anything else was some TLC but instead he was forcing her to do something clearly outside her comfort zone.

  She was obviously one of those squeamish p
eople who didn’t like the sight of blood so it had to be hard for her to help. Frankly, this sort of scene could be difficult for even hardened professionals.

  He sighed. “Look at me.”

  Carrie couldn’t move. She could only see the blood. Her mind started to play tricks. She was getting flashes of another place and time. Another patient. Another life-and-death situation.

  So much blood. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to expel them.

  ‘Look at me!’

  Charlie was more forceful this time but it had the desired effect. Her head snapped up, panic flaring her nostrils and dilating her pupils. ‘You’re doing really well,’ he said gentling his voice again, lifting his hand to squeeze her shoulder. ‘The ambulance should be here soon.’

  The warmth of his hand anchored her in the suddenly spinning world and Carrie’s panicked thoughts eased momentarily.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘C-Carrie.’

  ‘Hi. I’m Charlie.’ He smiled. ‘I need you to slow your breathing down, OK? Do you think you can do that?’

  Carrie nodded mutely but she still couldn’t get enough air.

  ‘Come on, Carrie, like this.’ He breathed deeply in and out himself. ‘Breathe with me, like this.’

  Carrie forced herself to slow her breathing. It was hard at first, her oxygen-starved lungs protesting but she clung to the calm timbre of Charlie’s voice, mimicked his deep steady breathing — in and out, in and out. His hand on her shoulder was immeasurably comforting and, slowly, the tingling subsided.

  ‘OK, now. Good. This is good.” He smiled encouragingly. “Much better. Well done.’

  Carrie was aware somewhere inside her jumbled thoughts that he was talking to her like she was a frightened child, the way she spoke to Dana during a thunderstorm. And she was also aware that behind his calm façade his eyes kept flicking down to check the inert man on the ground.

  Their patient was in bad shape and she had to pull herself together.