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Chapter XXXVII pgs. 246-248
It was almost dark when Maria returned in her car. She pushed the window open and began to crawl into the warehouse, trying in vain to see inside. She clambered back out, turned on the car’s engine, and pointed the headlights towards the shed, and again pushed her head through the window. Afraid of what she’d find inside, Maria hesitated on the sill, then jumped down and made her way, stumbling, towards the light switch.
She searched out the shelves where the cardboard coffins were kept, then dragged out the one on the floor, thankful that it was heavy. At least the body was still inside. Hopefully, it was still alive.
Maria was trembling now, afraid of being alone, afraid of someone discovering her, afraid that Johanna was already dead, afraid of ghosts, afraid that Johanna would pull out a gun and shoot her, and afraid of so many other things. But she opened the lid, and gingerly reached inside and touched Johanna’s cheek. Then she felt under her nose for the warm air that would indicate breathing. Johanna did not move. Her skin was cool, and there was no breath coming from her nostrils.
No, Maria thought. She began to rub Johanna’s cheek, gently at first, then harder. She wanted to shove the box back under the shelf and run. “Please,” she said out loud. “Johanna, you have to wake up. She pulled Johanna’s arm, and found it pliable, not rigid. Again she felt for breath under Johanna’s nostrils, and was rewarded with a faint puff of air. She felt at Johanna’s neck for a pulse, and found a slight thumping – weak and very slow, but also regular.
Maria cried.
She breathed into Johanna’s mouth – two breaths. “You just cannot die now, Miss Johanna, not after all of this. You made it this far and against so much. Please, stay alive just a little longer.”
Panicking all the while, she pulled at Johanna’s arms to get her upright, but the body was limp and uncooperative. With frenzied, jerks Maria tried to boost Johanna up towards the window, but the body always ended up back in the box on the floor, and Maria despaired of ever getting her out of the warehouse.
And finally her nurse’s training took over. If there’s one thing they taught us, thought Maria, it was how to move a limp body. And she breathed slowly and deeply to calm herself. Maria rolled Johanna from the box to the floor and onto her side, and slung Johanna’s upper torso across her back - the fireman’s carry. Using her legs and back, Maria staggered upright, then made her way towards the window, and leaned Johanna over the sill with Johanna’s head lolling outside. “I’m sorry, Miss Johanna. This will probably hurt you, but I don’t know how else to do it.” She climbed outside, squeezing her own body through the window past Johanna’s limp form, and bloodying her shins as she scrambled over the sill. I must open the car’s back door first, she thought. Then she knelt on the hood of her car and, pulling on Johanna’s arms, scraped her over the sill. Johanna’s body thudded headfirst onto the hood where Maria caught Johanna’s arms. Squatting next to the car, Maria was able to sling Johanna across her shoulders, and stagger around to the open door and drop her inside. Johanna ended up flopped on the floor, and Maria gunned the engine and drove away praying that she wouldn’t be stopped at the gate.
Chapter XXXVII pgs. 246-248
It was almost dark when Maria returned in her car. She pushed the window open and began to crawl into the warehouse, trying in vain to see inside. She clambered back out, turned on the car’s engine, and pointed the headlights towards the shed, and again pushed her head through the window. Afraid of what she’d find inside, Maria hesitated on the sill, then jumped down and made her way, stumbling, towards the light switch.
She searched out the shelves where the cardboard coffins were kept, then dragged out the one on the floor, thankful that it was heavy. At least the body was still inside. Hopefully, it was still alive.
Maria was trembling now, afraid of being alone, afraid of someone discovering her, afraid that Johanna was already dead, afraid of ghosts, afraid that Johanna would pull out a gun and shoot her, and afraid of so many other things. But she opened the lid, and gingerly reached inside and touched Johanna’s cheek. Then she felt under her nose for the warm air that would indicate breathing. Johanna did not move. Her skin was cool, and there was no breath coming from her nostrils.
No, Maria thought. She began to rub Johanna’s cheek, gently at first, then harder. She wanted to shove the box back under the shelf and run. “Please,” she said out loud. “Johanna, you have to wake up. She pulled Johanna’s arm, and found it pliable, not rigid. Again she felt for breath under Johanna’s nostrils, and was rewarded with a faint puff of air. She felt at Johanna’s neck for a pulse, and found a slight thumping – weak and very slow, but also regular.
Maria cried.
She breathed into Johanna’s mouth – two breaths. “You just cannot die now, Miss Johanna, not after all of this. You made it this far and against so much. Please, stay alive just a little longer.”
Panicking all the while, she pulled at Johanna’s arms to get her upright, but the body was limp and uncooperative. With frenzied, jerks Maria tried to boost Johanna up towards the window, but the body always ended up back in the box on the floor, and Maria despaired of ever getting her out of the warehouse.
And finally her nurse’s training took over. If there’s one thing they taught us, thought Maria, it was how to move a limp body. And she breathed slowly and deeply to calm herself. Maria rolled Johanna from the box to the floor and onto her side, and slung Johanna’s upper torso across her back - the fireman’s carry. Using her legs and back, Maria staggered upright, then made her way towards the window, and leaned Johanna over the sill with Johanna’s head lolling outside. “I’m sorry, Miss Johanna. This will probably hurt you, but I don’t know how else to do it.” She climbed outside, squeezing her own body through the window past Johanna’s limp form, and bloodying her shins as she scrambled over the sill. I must open the car’s back door first, she thought. Then she knelt on the hood of her car and, pulling on Johanna’s arms, scraped her over the sill. Johanna’s body thudded headfirst onto the hood where Maria caught Johanna’s arms. Squatting next to the car, Maria was able to sling Johanna across her shoulders, and stagger around to the open door and drop her inside. Johanna ended up flopped on the floor, and Maria gunned the engine and drove away praying that she wouldn’t be stopped at the gate.
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