“Porter scooted around toward Sturm’s head and leaned down over her face. “You hang on. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare quit on me.” He kissed her on the forehead. Her skin was cold against his lips. He watched her eyes for any sign of acknowledgement, but saw none. There was a smear of blood on her cheek that almost looked like . . . “Back away!” the first paramedic shouted. “We need to get her on the rig right now!” Porter leaned closer. The girl hadn’t been going for Sturm’s throat or the blood gushing from her shoulder.”