She would need help. They had two trained paramedics and one fairly well equipped emergency unit—she had worked so hard to establish an emergency service when she first came here, but she'd never imagined the fruits of her labors would be needed to such an extent—and her own nurse, but God, if only they had a hospital! The police force was small and ill trained in first aid, but perhaps it could be of some help in transporting the injured. And surely the damage couldn't be this extensive all over town...
She was not even aware that Kevin was still with her until she stumbled and almost fell over someone's bird-bath, which was now half buried in the ground. His strong arm jerked her upright again. She stared at him, panting and somewhat confused. She wanted to tell him to go someplace safe, but she couldn't think of any such place. She hadn't even considered asking him to join one of the search teams; he would have been of no use to them. And strangely, it was good to look up and find him there, to feel his fingers, strong and steady, on her arm. In moments like this a familiar face, any face, was a gift to be treasured.
She said, breathing hard, "We can cut across the park and avoid the streets. I think most of them are blocked, anyway." All those beautiful hardwoods that lined the lazy streets of Victoria Bend, the pride and joy of a sleepy little town, were now the authors of its destruction.
His face was grim as he nodded and urged her on. He did not let go of her arm.
The damage was random. Trees had crashed through roofs, and automobiles had been tossed into the air; walls were caved in and windows torn out. At one house the garage had been reduced to rubble, but the main house was untouched; at another a doghouse floated complacently in the swimming pool with the stunned and whining pooch still safe inside. There were sporadic fires, and a broken hydrant flooded the street in one place. People were everywhere, crowding the streets, shouting confused information and instructions, crying and moaning. Kate stopped as often as she could to check for serious injuries, but it was an overwhelming task, and she had to get to the clinic, to her supplies. She quickly instructed harried volunteers in first aid and shouted orders to bring the injured to the clinic. And she prayed that the clinic was still standing.
As they approached downtown, the scene became more chaotic, though the damage didn't seem to be quite as extensive there. Plate-glass windows littered the streets, and signs had been blown down. The roads were clogged with cars whose drivers, in the insanity of the moment, were apparently intent upon evacuating the area. Frantic pedestrians added to the confusion, and a small fire engine and a police car were inching through the melee. Kate lurched forward to flag one of the police cars down, but Kevin held her back.
''You'll never get through that crowd," he gasped. "I've got to rest a minute."
The brief run had completely exhausted him, and Kate felt a sharp twinge of impatience for his artificially sculpted body, the hours he spent keeping trim instead of keeping in shape. He might look like Adonis, but he had the stamina of a fifty-year-old man.
"For heaven's sake, Kevin," she returned shortly, shaking his arm off, "I can't wait for you to—"
And then she heard a voice through the crowd. "Katie! Katie, here!" Only two people in the world called her Katie—Kevin and her father.
She whirled and saw her father pushing his way through the crowd, a big man in a green golf sweater and a red baseball cap. She ran toward him; he swept her in his arms, hugging her hard. "Good for you, girl, I knew you'd be okay!" he exclaimed into her ear. But, of course, he hadn't known any more than she had known about him, and so their arms tightened briefly around each other as their intense fear gave way to relief, the only luxury of personal feelings they would be able to allow themselves for many hours to come.
He pushed her away and looked down at her intently. His eyes were bright, and his face was flushed as he demanded, "Have you been to the clinic?"
This was a man who had served in two wars and a police action; he was in his element now, utterly unfazed. He would know what to do. Katie didn't realize how terrified she had been until she saw her father and knew everything was going to be all right.
She shook her head. "We're on our way."
He glanced then at Kevin and gave him a companionable slap on the shoulder. "Well, my boy, welcome home!" He had always liked Kevin; Kate never understood why. "Not much like you remembered it, huh?"
Kevin shook his head a little dazedly, still concentrating on regaining his breath. "I keep thinking it's all just a set and I'm waiting for someone to yell, 'Cut!'"
Jason Larimer laughed briefly, and it was an encouraging, if bizarrely out-of-place, sound. He turned back to Kate, now serious. "They say the damage was pretty bad on the west side. I'm trying to get there now. But the clinic is standing, and so's the church across from it, so the best thing is to do triage at the clinic and set up beds in the church. God only knows when the Red Cross will get here—it's beginning to sound like half the county got a touch of this and the roads are shot to hell—so we're on our own for a while. And we've got another problem." He looked grim. "The power is out indefinitely. We're gathering up as many flashlights as we can, but that's going to be precious little help with the kind of injuries we're likely to be treating tonight. Ever do surgery by candlelight, my girl?"
Kate felt a sudden hysterical urge to laugh. Except for the most minor procedures, she had never done surgery at all; she wasn't certified in surgery or even very well qualified, but she knew he was right—every fraction of her skill would be tested tonight, and under the worst of circumstances. She said frantically, "But we've got to have some kind of emergency power system—"
Kevin interrupted, "What about car headlights?"
Kate whirled on him. "For God's sake, Kevin, this is not a movie! We can't drive cars into the clinic!"
"Wait a minute," her father said thoughtfully. "He may have something. Not the cars themselves, but the batteries. It may work! That old generator is still in the clinic storage room, isn't it? The one you used to say belonged in a museum?"
"Daddy, that won't work! It's not even strong enough to light a light bulb. You told me so yourself!''
"Just goes to show what you know about mechanics, girlie!" he retorted. "It can be rigged to run on car batteries with more than enough power to spare. Good for you, Kev!" He slapped him quickly and affectionately on the shoulder again and turned away. "I'm going to put our boys in blue to work on it top priority. You should have lights by the time you need them. Go on ahead and start triage. I'll be there as quick as I can."
A sudden bolt of panic shot through her as she realized he was leaving—leaving her alone, leaving her in charge. An overwhelming sense of inadequacy gripped her, born of too many years of cookbook medicine and safety from challenges, as the full scope of her burden struck her. They were completely cut off; help from the outside world would be slow in coming, if at all. Their medical facilities were limited and their medical needs enormous, and everything depended on Kate.
She cried urgently, "Daddy, wait!" and took a step toward him.
He paused, and his eyes swept the chaotic scene with bitter amazement. "By damn, it's a mess, isn't it? Reminds me of one time in Guam— Ah, well, that's another story! You get to work, Katie. I'll take care of your lights for you!"
And he was gone.
Instinctively, Katie started after him, but Kevin held her back. She looked up at him with all her insecurity and fear written in her eyes, and it was the strangest thing... She looked at him, and suddenly she didn't feel quite so panicked anymore. He looked so strong, standing beside her, with the rotating blue lights from a passing cruiser dancing off his face, his dark eyes quiet and calm; it may have only been a trick of the light, but she thought for a moment that he knew exactly what she was feeling, his Katie with the feet of clay, and he understood. It probably was nothing more than her imagination, but seeing him there, believing that he understood and supported her, helped the irrational moment of terror and self-doubt to pass.
Then he smiled a
little and put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing briefly. "Come on," he said. "We'd better go do what the man said.''
They started off toward the clinic again.
Chapter Four
"I hope you're not blaming me for this," Kevin said. He was still a little short of breath as Kate led him around a comer and through the mostly empty parking lots that ran behind the downtown shops and businesses.
She spared him a harried, distressed glance, and he explained, "You said every time I come into your life I bring catastrophe. But this is one even I couldn't have managed."
"Oh, Kevin for—" A gasp robbed the rest of her words, and she drew up short.
A utility pole had fallen across a car, blocking their path where the parking lot narrowed into a alleyway that ran between two buildings. Snapping live wires festooned the air above the automobile and writhed on the ground, hissing and spitting sparks. Frantically, she turned back, but Kevin grabbed her arm hard.
"There's someone in that car!" he said hoarsely.
There was only so much the mind could stand, and comprehension was slow in dawning. Kate stared in shocked disbelief at Kevin, then at the car, where now she could see the shadow of a woman and hear the faint cries for help. And even as she looked, there was something else—the faint gleam of an oily blue stain creeping from beneath the car. Gasoline. And live sparks only inches away.
No, she thought. No, this can't be happening. Things like this don't happen in real life. But it was far too bizarre to be a nightmare. And Kate was far too frightened to have imagined any of this.
She turned quickly. "We've got to get that power shut off."
But Kevin had seen the gasoline stain, too, and now the sobs reached them clearly. "Help me, someone! My legs—I can't get out!"
"Katie, there's no time," he said tersely and started forward.
"Are you crazy?" It was instinct that caused her to pull him back and sharpen her voice to a wild hiss. "You'll be electrocuted! If one of those wires touches that car—"
He looked at her with impatience mixed with incredulity, as though she were the one who had lost her mind, not he. "Let me go, Kate! What's the matter with you? That car is going to go up like a bomb if we don't—"
"For God's sake, Kevin, use your head!" she shouted at him, and tried to draw him back, but he broke away from her. "This is not a set, and you're not Colt Marshall!"
He looked at her for a moment with such a turmoil of sharp, twisting emotions in his eyes that she actually stepped back under the force of it. There was hurt there, and disgust and cold anger and violent determination. And then, to her horror, he turned and ran toward the car.
"Kevin, damn you!" It was a scream, hoarse and helpless and much too late. He didn't even look back.
She had thought there was a limit to the amount of terror she could endure. Watching Kevin negotiate the dancing, humming wires of death and consciously averting her eyes from the steady drip of gasoline from the automobile, she realized she had not even scraped the surface of fear before. She wanted to call out to him, to bring him back, to tell him she would go for help, she would rescue the woman herself... But she couldn't make her voice work, and she knew her attempt to stop him would be futile. There was no one but Kevin to rescue the trapped woman. Kate wasn't strong enough to drag her from the car, and there wasn't time to go for help, so it was up to Kevin—Kevin, who had never had to deal with a real crisis in his life; Kevin, who had played the role of the hero so long he couldn't tell the difference between a set and real life; Kevin, who was about to get himself killed.
He had managed to open the door. Kate could hear the woman's weak sobs of relief; she could hear Kevin murmuring something to her. Just then, a gust of wind caught one of the dangling wires and swayed it within inches of the metal frame of the car. A scream, powerful and breathless, caught like bile in Kate's throat. Her hands were clenched so tightly around her medical bag that she couldn't even feel her fingers anymore. Every nerve was strung to its finest extension; she was frozen in horror, yet her nerves were straining and pulsing hke the wires on the ground before her. She wanted to scream, wanted to help, wanted to close her eyes and pretend none of this was happening.
It was taking too long. She cried out, "What's wrong? Kevin, for God's sake, hurry!"
Then he was straightening up, backing away from the car. A plump middle-aged woman in a flowered sundress was in his arms, clinging to his neck as he carefully negotiated the obstacle course of live wires to make his way back to Kate.
Kate was almost sobbing with relief as he set the woman on her feet. Quickly she checked her for injuries, demanding, "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"
"Just a little shaky," the woman replied tremulously, clinging to Kate for support. She smiled faintly at Kevin. "I always dreamed of being rescued by Colt Marshall, but I never thought it would be like this!"
Quickly Kevin returned her smile. It seemed strained. "I think we'd better get out of here," he said with a backward glance at the car. He took the woman's arm. "Do you want me to carry you?"
"Oh, no, dear, I can walk!" And suddenly her pale, plump face crumpled with tears, and she said, "I have to get home! My house... I have to see if my house... Oh, it's the end of the world, I know it is!"
Between the two of them, they managed to urge the nearly hysterical woman out of the area of danger and back to the street, where an anxious friend or neighbor immediately spotted her and rushed toward her, enveloping her in an embrace that spoke of relief and concern and quick reassurances.
Kate and Kevin watched as the woman disappeared into the crowd. There was a sudden, muffled explosion of the ignited automobile. Curious, excited heads turned, and a few people began to run toward the sound, eager to investigate. The owner of the car was not among them.
It suddenly shot through Kate, what incredible danger Kevin had faced and what a price he had almost paid for his foolish heroics. Even though rationally she knew he had had no choice and that the woman might well have been dead had they not come along when they did, logic had no part in the emotions that assailed her now. She looked at him—white and damp faced, yet so much calmer than he had any right to be—and intense, conflicting shafts of pride and anger speared through her: he was alive, and she wanted to hug him, to hold him in her arms and crush him to her; he had almost died, and she wanted to hit him.
As she stood there, impotent with seething emotions, he gave her a faint impression of his old cocky grin and lifted his hand to push his hair away from his eyes. "There, you see?" he challenged her with gentle mockery that was wonderfully familiar and horribly inappropriate. "Old Colt finally came in handy, after all."
Then she thought she would indeed hit him—either that or kiss him. And almost before she could recognize—much less reconcile herself to—that shocking and totally unexpected impulse, she noticed a trickle of blood on the back of his hand. Now back in her sphere and swiftly competent, she grabbed his hand. "You're hurt," she said. "You idiot, what have you done to yourself?"
He shrugged and pulled away. "A scratch, I guess. It doesn't hurt."
She looked at him, a swell of anxiety and confusion and helplessness and something strangely like tenderness filling her, and she wanted to curse him or shake him. She said in a low voice, surprised to hear it shaking slightly, "Don't you ever do a fool thing hke that again, do you understand me? This is not Code Zero, and nobody's going to call in a stuntman when you get in over your head! This is real life!"
The look of wry amusement he cast around made her feel very small and petty. Sirens were wailing and headlights flashing, people were jostling one another in the streets, and the smell of panic was thick. He said, "So I noticed." '
Oh God, Kevin... Despair and a strange sort of understanding filled her eyes with the aftermath of terror, and she knew she didn't want to hit him at all. She wanted to hold him. Not because he was a hero but because he was Kevin. Because he was hers.
"Were you scared?" she asked shakil
y.
He looked at her soberly. "To death.''
She tried to smile. "Me, too." Her voice was barely a whisper. There was a moment as she looked at him when something stirred in his eyes and was answered deep inside her—something too fragile and important to be analyzed in the midst of a crowded, terror-filled street, but something that she wanted to hold on to and treasure... and knew she could not.
"Just don't ever do that to me again," she said roughly, and she pushed through the crowd toward the clinic across the street. Kevin was close behind.
THE SCENE AT THE CLINIC would have done justice to any artist's representation of Dante's Inferno. The lights were on as promised, but the relief Kate felt was mitigated by the extent of what she saw. The emergency medical unit had somehow made it through, and the ambulance lights flashed eerily on the crowd that was gathered around the front of the building. Some of the people were injured and in need of attention, but some of them were merely curiosity seekers or frightened persons gravitating toward what looked like a place of refuge. A policeman was trying to sort out the injured from the others, and Kate briefly thanked God for him as she made her way over to the stretcher the paramedics were lifting out of the ambulance.
"Compound fracture, right femur," Tony, the senior EMT told her. "His vitals are stable. You've got worse inside."
The patient was semiconscious but did not seem to be in shock. Kate quickly lifted the blanket and checked the injury, then glanced at the paper on which Tony had written the pertinent information. "Good for you, guys," she said curtly. "Let's get him inside. Have you seen my father?"
"We left him on Macon Street," Tony called over his shoulder. "He's treating them on the site. Said to tell you he'd be in as soon as the worst are transported."
Kate should have known her father wouldn't leave the scene of the crisis until he was absolutely certain his help was no longer needed, but she wondered if he knew what a crisis they had here. And as she quickly followed the paramedics inside, she only hoped he would hurry.
After The Storm (Men Made in America-- Mississippi) Page 5
