A Desperate Search

Rebecca dropped the tire iron. Metal hit asphalt with a hard clatter that vibrated up her teeth. She didn’t look back at the truck, the spilled oil, or the crowd. She sprinted up the concrete steps and pushed through the diner doors.

Leo sat in the corner booth. His small legs were kicked straight out, his boots stiff on the red vinyl. Shoulder blades slammed back against the seat with every breath, his chin reaching up toward the ceiling as he fought to pull air into his chest.

“Leo,” Rebecca said. Her voice cracked.

She reached the table in three strides and grabbed his canvas backpack. She unzipped the front pocket, dumping its contents over the formica: a half-eaten sleeve of crackers, a blue plastic spacer, three green crayons.

No red canister.

“Where is it?” She tore open the main pocket, shoving aside his spare jeans and lion drawing. “Leo, baby, where’s the pump?”

Leo couldn’t answer. He clutched his chest with both hands, his fingers digging into his t-shirt. He pointed a trembling hand down toward the floor.

The canister had rattled off the edge of the table when he reached for it. It was gone.

Rebecca dropped to her knees on the sticky tile. She looked under the table, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Nothing.

“Is he alright?” a customer asked, coming through the door behind her. It was the kid who’d been filming on his phone.

“The inhaler,” Rebecca said, her fingernails scraping against the chrome base of the table. “He dropped his inhaler.”

“I got it,” the young man said.

He didn’t hesitate. He dropped his phone onto a seat, went down on his belly, and squeezed his arm under the dark gap between the booth base and the floorboards. His shirt dragged through floor sweepings as he stretched.

“Far back,” the kid muttered, his neck red from strain. “Got the corner of it… hang on.”

Leo let out a wet gasp above them. His skin looked pale under the light.

“Hurry,” Rebecca whispered, her hands shaking so hard she couldn’t grip the plastic spacer on the table.

The kid grunted, pulled his arm back, and held up the small red cylinder. “Got it!”

Rebecca snatched it from his fingers and snapped it into the spacer. She turned to Leo, but his hands were locking up. He was panicking, coughing, unable to close his mouth around the tube.