only partially appeased by his next question.
“How do you want to handle our casualties?”
“If the three in the back can walk, you can take them to the plane while I work on the two in front.”
“Fair enough.”
To add insult to injury, he popped the door free with only a few levering motions. A second later, she greeted the three boy’s face-to-face, noticing they were all huddled to one side.
“How’s everyone doing?” she asked, enjoying the temporary protection from the rain and wind.
A chorus of excited voices answered. Smiling, she raised her hands for them to stop. “If you’re this talkative, you can’t be hurt too badly,” she told them. “I’m Dana, by the way, and this is Micky.”
The sandy-haired youth closest to Dana pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses as he introduced everyone. “I’m Eddie.Josh and Pete are in the middle.” He pointed to two dark-haired boys in the next row of seats. “Mr. Ewing and Will are in the front.”
“Can we save the chitchat for later?” Micky mumbled for her ears only. “We’re running out of time.”
She glared at him. “I know,” she muttered, then turned back to the boys. “Hold on a few minutes. We’ll take out the back seat to make it easier for everyone.”
As soon as Micky helped her unload their bags and set the bench on the grass to give them more working space inside the vehicle, Dana gladly took refuge from the wind and rain under the opened door. She quickly assessed Josh’s swollen knee and Pete’s sore wrist, deciding that they could wait for more than cursory attention. Eddie was relatively unscathed, although he reported having the same bumps and bruises as his friends.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said briskly. “You two—” she pointed to Eddie and Pete, who were both ambulatory “—will climb out first. As you can see, it’s wet out, so if you have a rain poncho, wear it.”
The van wiggled and shuddered as the two scooped up their outerwear and scooted out. Meanwhile, Dana crossed her fingers as she watched the rope. It still had enough give that she was confident it would hold.
Before she could crawl inside again to help Josh, he’d maneuvered himself between the nearly vertical seats. Micky helped her grab his shoulders and pull him the rest of the way.
“I’ll put a splint over your clothes for now,” she told the teenager as she hurriedly did so. “Eventually, though, we’ll look at the damage.”
“Will you have to cut my jeans?” Josh asked.
Sliding the taut denim over his swollen knee would be impossible, not to mention painful. “Probably.”
“These are my favorite pair.”
“I know,” Dana soothed, “but it can’t be helped. Micky and I will carry you to the plane.”
“I’ll manage,” Micky told her. “You stay here and work on the last two.”
His upward glance at the clouds reminded her that weather conditions weren’t improving. “Okay,” she agreed. “You can be his crutch.”
While Micky led the group toward the plane, Dana pulled latex-free gloves out of the trouser pocket where she always stashed several pairs. After pulling them on, she crawled inside the van.
It would be easier to extricate the two remaining victims without the middle seats blocking their exit, so she unlatched one from its runner. Before she could catch it, gravity sent it tumbling down on her.
A jagged edge of metal sliced through her pants and cut her thigh. She bit back an expletive and surveyed the damage. Blood welled in the gash, but fortunately, the injury wasn’t deep.
With a few mighty heaves, she soon had the seat out of the way and was able to reach the driver.
“Your turn, Mr. Ewing,” she said cheerfully as she examined the slash on his forehead. The blood on his face had already dried, although the wound oozed underneath his handkerchief compress.
“It’s Clay and I’m fine. Look after my son, Will, first,” he replied in the distinctive drawl common to Texas
“How do you want to handle our casualties?”
“If the three in the back can walk, you can take them to the plane while I work on the two in front.”
“Fair enough.”
To add insult to injury, he popped the door free with only a few levering motions. A second later, she greeted the three boy’s face-to-face, noticing they were all huddled to one side.
“How’s everyone doing?” she asked, enjoying the temporary protection from the rain and wind.
A chorus of excited voices answered. Smiling, she raised her hands for them to stop. “If you’re this talkative, you can’t be hurt too badly,” she told them. “I’m Dana, by the way, and this is Micky.”
The sandy-haired youth closest to Dana pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses as he introduced everyone. “I’m Eddie.Josh and Pete are in the middle.” He pointed to two dark-haired boys in the next row of seats. “Mr. Ewing and Will are in the front.”
“Can we save the chitchat for later?” Micky mumbled for her ears only. “We’re running out of time.”
She glared at him. “I know,” she muttered, then turned back to the boys. “Hold on a few minutes. We’ll take out the back seat to make it easier for everyone.”
As soon as Micky helped her unload their bags and set the bench on the grass to give them more working space inside the vehicle, Dana gladly took refuge from the wind and rain under the opened door. She quickly assessed Josh’s swollen knee and Pete’s sore wrist, deciding that they could wait for more than cursory attention. Eddie was relatively unscathed, although he reported having the same bumps and bruises as his friends.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said briskly. “You two—” she pointed to Eddie and Pete, who were both ambulatory “—will climb out first. As you can see, it’s wet out, so if you have a rain poncho, wear it.”
The van wiggled and shuddered as the two scooped up their outerwear and scooted out. Meanwhile, Dana crossed her fingers as she watched the rope. It still had enough give that she was confident it would hold.
Before she could crawl inside again to help Josh, he’d maneuvered himself between the nearly vertical seats. Micky helped her grab his shoulders and pull him the rest of the way.
“I’ll put a splint over your clothes for now,” she told the teenager as she hurriedly did so. “Eventually, though, we’ll look at the damage.”
“Will you have to cut my jeans?” Josh asked.
Sliding the taut denim over his swollen knee would be impossible, not to mention painful. “Probably.”
“These are my favorite pair.”
“I know,” Dana soothed, “but it can’t be helped. Micky and I will carry you to the plane.”
“I’ll manage,” Micky told her. “You stay here and work on the last two.”
His upward glance at the clouds reminded her that weather conditions weren’t improving. “Okay,” she agreed. “You can be his crutch.”
While Micky led the group toward the plane, Dana pulled latex-free gloves out of the trouser pocket where she always stashed several pairs. After pulling them on, she crawled inside the van.
It would be easier to extricate the two remaining victims without the middle seats blocking their exit, so she unlatched one from its runner. Before she could catch it, gravity sent it tumbling down on her.
A jagged edge of metal sliced through her pants and cut her thigh. She bit back an expletive and surveyed the damage. Blood welled in the gash, but fortunately, the injury wasn’t deep.
With a few mighty heaves, she soon had the seat out of the way and was able to reach the driver.
“Your turn, Mr. Ewing,” she said cheerfully as she examined the slash on his forehead. The blood on his face had already dried, although the wound oozed underneath his handkerchief compress.
“It’s Clay and I’m fine. Look after my son, Will, first,” he replied in the distinctive drawl common to Texas
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