Fire: Chapter Two

Shannon breathed in a deep draught of damp, chilly autumn air and watched with satisfaction as her out-breath made a steamy halo in front of her. The moors smelled of wet grass and sweet heather, and as she walked, Shannon could hear the rustling of squirrels, rabbits and numerous other small creatures, as well as the songs of thrushes and robins. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the mournful cry of a hawk wheeling high above the tall pines. The morning was still, peaceful, and very, very wet. The rain fell straight down; the kind of rain the locals called "a wee bit o' scotch mist". Still, the grass was green and the rolling moor, hedged around by pine forest and wild purple heather as far as the eye can see, had a haunting, melancholy beauty.

It didn't take her long to reach the lake, and almost as soon as she came into view of the tangle of bulrushes that announced the shoreline, Shannon knew that something was wrong. She had possessed this almost sixth sense since childhood, and had frightened her parents on a regular basis with what she called her "spidey-sense"; the school counsellor had scoffed and said there was no scientific basis for "ESP" as the adults termed it. All she knew was this: when the feeling of foreboding struck, it was invariably justified.

Gingerly skirting the swampy edge of the lake, Shannon parted the bulrushes to get a better view. Cursing herself for not wearing her wellies, she grabbed her binoculars and scanned the horizon, but was immediately startled by something much closer. There was a body floating in the lake!

Her heart slamming against her chest, Shannon struggled to keep a hold of herself. The first aider's golden rule is "don't panic". She forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths. "Priority Action Approach", she recited out loud. She tried to reach with her walking stick, but the person was too far out. Automatically, Shannon took off her coat, boots and jacket. She got up to her knees before she froze. Not from cold - although the water was far from warm - she just couldn't go any further. She just stood there, shivering.

Suddenly, a sargeant-major's voice from behind her barked an order. "Get into the water!" Shannon turned around, shocked. "Get into the water NOW!" There was no-one there. Meekly, she obeyed the invisible drill instructor. Luckily, the water only came up to her chin and she was able to keep her toes on the ground. A couple of times she nearly went under, and panic threatened to overtake her, but the phantom drill instructor shouted in her ear. "Keep going! You have 30 seconds to complete this exercise, cadet!"

After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the body, which turned out to be a man, floating face-down and lifeless. Shannon used the crook of her walking stick to hook him by the collar and dragged him back to shore. In the water, he wasn't particularly heavy, but once she got him on land, it was another story. Shivering with cold, Shannon dragged his inert body up the muddy bank to a level piece of grass.

First things first, said the drill instructor: ABC's. "Airway, Breathing, Circulation" Shannon said, out loud. What the hell was he wearing? Fumbling
with her pack, she cursed the numbing cold that had already started to immobilise her fingers. Finally she found her knife and ripped a way through the strange, cumbersome mesh-like fabric that the victim was dressed in. She checked his airway for obstructions, then bent over his nose and mouth, looking sideways across his chest, doing the LLF drill: Look, Listen and Feel for breathing. "One, Two, Three, Four...."

It felt like hours before the requisite ten seconds had passed for breathing assessment. Not breathing. Man, it was cold. Shannon gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. "Pulse check: One, Two, Three, Four, Five." No pulse. This young man was dead.