No Place Like Home

 “The girl's dead,” he said. “Frozen.”

Inês heard the voice as if it had come from a distant dream. She tried to look in its direction, but her neck was stiff; her entire body was stiff. Among the frigid blackness, a soft glow, warm and orange, settled on her with a loud clank. Then, she heard voices, a group of them. The boys were talking among themselves, but she could hardly listen in on their conversation; it was all too blurred. Only tiny snippets reached her.

“A vitima respira?” asked a faraway voice. “Tem pulso?”

Inês hadn't heard Portuguese in what felt like an eternity. Was she really back? Was she home? She tried to twist her neck, but the task felt herculean. Her back wouldn't budge and her arms wouldn't lift her. This body didn't feel like her own.

“Mantenham-na deitada,” continued the voice. “Cubram com casacos. A ambulância já vai a caminho.”

An ambulance? She wondered how bad of a state she was in. Would she make it out alive? Would she even get to see her dad? Please. At least one last time. How would he feel if she died like this? He'd be all alone.

“She's crying,” said the same boy she had first heard.

There was a bright white light as he said that. She tried to close her eyes, but they resisted. Then, she saw a silhouette hover over her body, greyish and hard to make out, and she felt a sudden warmth wash over her.

“Despacho de VMER Porto,” said the distant voice. “Vítima feminina, catorze anos, hipotermia grave, inconsciente, arritmia possível. Local: armazém abandonado, freguesia de Campanhã.”

Unconscious? So they couldn't tell the lights were still on. Or could it be that she was only dreaming? Could this be one of those near death experiences she'd heard so much about? Also: Campanhã, that was quite far from the city center. They said she was in an abandoned warehouse; then she must've been in the eastern part of the freguesia, near the river Tinto. There were many old factories and overgrown lots there, right on the city's edge. Maybe she was in the Freixo industrial zone.

Her mind wandered and her thoughts splintered; Inês saw them around her, flapping their graceful wings. Why were they back? Was it her time to go? Were they there to take her? She felt drowsy. She was going to sleep, if only for a little while.

She awoke again in a well-lit space. The ambulance was cramped and filled with warm air. It felt like solace on her skin. Most of her clothing had been removed, and she was wrapped in nitid sheets that glinted far and wide. Inês couldn't see them, but she could feel pockets of warmth under the blankets, some kind of heat packs situated along her trunk. An IV line with warmed saline perforated her arm and a mask with heated, humidified oxygen had been placed over her mouth and nose.

“Temos vítima de catorze anos, sexo feminino, hipotermia severa, Glasgow 3, pupilas lentas, pulso filiforme a 20 por minuto,” said a new voice next to her. “ECG: complexo largo, bradicardia. Solicito ativação da equipa ECMO.”

That must have been a doctor or a paramedic, she thought. She didn't understand much of the medical jargon, but it didn't sound encouraging. She wondered whether her father been notified? Did he know where she was already? Was he still wondering where she had gone; what had happened to her? Her eyes fixated on the white ceiling; white like snow. She wavered.

The swarm of white coats and scrubs crowded around Inês. The air was electric, and there was an urgency in the precise, well-rehearsed movements of the hospital personnel.

“Menina, catorze anos, encontrada inconsciente em ambiente frio,” said a middle-aged woman with a kind voice. “Tempe estimado de exposição prolongado, Swiss IV, Temperatura 25, embradicardia severa, instável.”

Twenty-five degrees Celsius? That was much too low, Inês thought. How was she still alive?

“Olá,” said the kindly woman. “Estas no Hospital de São João, no Porto.”

The São João Hospital? She'd been there many times. That was where her mother had died. For the second time that evening, she cried.

Once more, Inês felt a surge of warmth pass over her entire body. Something like a cocoon had encased her; the device pumped warm air all around her body. She began to shiver. As the blood returned to its natural movement, she started to feel pain; sharp pins-and-needles, at first; and then, a throbbing, agonizing hurt, all at once. It felt like hot lava or molten metal was coursing through her veins. Her extremities were swollen, blistering. She couldn't feel her toes or fingers, let alone move them. Her chest felt heavy, breathless. She'd been there before. She thought she saw a tall figure standing above her; black.

“Paragem! Iniciar compressões. Continuar reanimação até ECMO.”

She felt her heart give out.