Read Online Flight #116 Is Down by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online
Authors: Caroline B. Cooney
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dispatcher’s voice.
“Plane crash,” it said. “All units.”
Patrick’s mother was on, a very calm woman, a woman Laura admired and wanted to be exactly like.
“Rockrimmon Road off Old Pond Meadow,” said Patrick’s mother.
Laura raised her eyes, bringing sight back into her world. She and Ty were the only rescue-squad people at this party. She didn’t even like Ty. Brains of a baked potato. “You have your truck?” she demanded. Of course he had his truck. A guy like Ty, he wasn’t a man without his wheels.
“Come on,” he said, “where’s your coat?”
They didn’t even remember the party; they were yanking on their coats as they dashed over the porch, down the steps. Ty’s truck was blocked in by several cars.
“Plane crash!” whispered Ty, shaking his head. He didn’t go back into the house to ask people to shift cars. He drove his truck right over the lawn instead, bumping over the curb and into the street. Ty loved doing stuff like that. Everybody suspected he was the one who did wheelies in the football field and ruined the turf each year, but nobody could prove it.
“Trucks,” he said proudly to Laura, meaning every complimentary thing there was about vehicles that ordinary obstacles couldn’t stop.
Ty’s truck sported enough lights to dock the QE II: a row of blinkers on the top of the cab, an interior light that spun in circles, flashers attached to both headlights and taillights.
“All units,” Laura told Ty, “does not mean you should signal outer space.”
Ty hated girls who put down his pride and joy. If they hadn’t been on the way to a crash, where duty called, he’d dump Laura by the roadside.
He didn’t let himself get bogged down in irritation at Laura. I’m not going to be immature just because she is, he thought, pleased that he was better than she was. He rehearsed in his head, going over procedures, eliminating panic, questions, and fear.
They whipped past traffic that pulled over to the right for them. At two intersections, they met compatriots also rushing to the ambulance barn and the fire department. In a few minutes they were part of a veritable parade of volunteers.
“We’re Juniors,” said Ty briefly.
There was no need to amplify that.
Juniors ran the town by day. But it was night, and they would be elbowed out by every adult who showed up; and tonight, with this amount of excitement and desperate need, every adult was going to show. Adults that hadn’t contributed a single hour in years were going to show. People whose training certificates had run out during the Reagan Administration were going to show.
Anger stiffened Laura. Don’t you butt in ahead of me just because you’re older.
I won’t give them a chance, thought Laura. I’m going in no matter how old the people are ahead of me. So there.
Ty pulled into the correct entrance for the barn, so that departing ambulances wouldn’t end up fighting opposing traffic just to leave their own barn. Laura leapt out of the truck even as Ty was looking for a parking space. The first ambulance had left, the rescue truck had departed, the paramedic’s vehicle had left, but the second ambulance was still there. Laura raced over, praying to be the fourth, not caring in the slightest about Ty. She wanted a piece of the action, not a piece of hanging around hoping for a later ride.
“Fourth?” said the driver. He had the ambulance in gear, ready to roll; he was just waiting for a full crew. She could actually see the adrenalin behind his eyes, in the hand that gripped the wheel. A plane crash! They were all wildly excited.
“Fourth,” said Laura, leaping in back.
The doors slammed, the ambulance pulled out, and Laura ducked her head down to keep from meeting Ty’s eyes as she left him behind.
Saturday: 5:44:30 P.M.
Daniel could not tell how badly he was hurt. He knew only that he could not move. He sorted through the possibilities. He might simply be pinned down. Things were definitely
“Plane crash,” it said. “All units.”
Patrick’s mother was on, a very calm woman, a woman Laura admired and wanted to be exactly like.
“Rockrimmon Road off Old Pond Meadow,” said Patrick’s mother.
Laura raised her eyes, bringing sight back into her world. She and Ty were the only rescue-squad people at this party. She didn’t even like Ty. Brains of a baked potato. “You have your truck?” she demanded. Of course he had his truck. A guy like Ty, he wasn’t a man without his wheels.
“Come on,” he said, “where’s your coat?”
They didn’t even remember the party; they were yanking on their coats as they dashed over the porch, down the steps. Ty’s truck was blocked in by several cars.
“Plane crash!” whispered Ty, shaking his head. He didn’t go back into the house to ask people to shift cars. He drove his truck right over the lawn instead, bumping over the curb and into the street. Ty loved doing stuff like that. Everybody suspected he was the one who did wheelies in the football field and ruined the turf each year, but nobody could prove it.
“Trucks,” he said proudly to Laura, meaning every complimentary thing there was about vehicles that ordinary obstacles couldn’t stop.
Ty’s truck sported enough lights to dock the QE II: a row of blinkers on the top of the cab, an interior light that spun in circles, flashers attached to both headlights and taillights.
“All units,” Laura told Ty, “does not mean you should signal outer space.”
Ty hated girls who put down his pride and joy. If they hadn’t been on the way to a crash, where duty called, he’d dump Laura by the roadside.
He didn’t let himself get bogged down in irritation at Laura. I’m not going to be immature just because she is, he thought, pleased that he was better than she was. He rehearsed in his head, going over procedures, eliminating panic, questions, and fear.
They whipped past traffic that pulled over to the right for them. At two intersections, they met compatriots also rushing to the ambulance barn and the fire department. In a few minutes they were part of a veritable parade of volunteers.
“We’re Juniors,” said Ty briefly.
There was no need to amplify that.
Juniors ran the town by day. But it was night, and they would be elbowed out by every adult who showed up; and tonight, with this amount of excitement and desperate need, every adult was going to show. Adults that hadn’t contributed a single hour in years were going to show. People whose training certificates had run out during the Reagan Administration were going to show.
Anger stiffened Laura. Don’t you butt in ahead of me just because you’re older.
I won’t give them a chance, thought Laura. I’m going in no matter how old the people are ahead of me. So there.
Ty pulled into the correct entrance for the barn, so that departing ambulances wouldn’t end up fighting opposing traffic just to leave their own barn. Laura leapt out of the truck even as Ty was looking for a parking space. The first ambulance had left, the rescue truck had departed, the paramedic’s vehicle had left, but the second ambulance was still there. Laura raced over, praying to be the fourth, not caring in the slightest about Ty. She wanted a piece of the action, not a piece of hanging around hoping for a later ride.
“Fourth?” said the driver. He had the ambulance in gear, ready to roll; he was just waiting for a full crew. She could actually see the adrenalin behind his eyes, in the hand that gripped the wheel. A plane crash! They were all wildly excited.
“Fourth,” said Laura, leaping in back.
The doors slammed, the ambulance pulled out, and Laura ducked her head down to keep from meeting Ty’s eyes as she left him behind.
Saturday: 5:44:30 P.M.
Daniel could not tell how badly he was hurt. He knew only that he could not move. He sorted through the possibilities. He might simply be pinned down. Things were definitely
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