Author: Robyn Carr

“Sure,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll give Joy a call right away. She’ll come.”

Cameron came out of the treatment room. “Connie, sixteen-year-old boy in the treatment room. He has shoulder pain from a dislocation, repaired, and bandage on his head. I gave him pain medication and told him to stay right where he is, resting. You can call his parents, but I don’t want him to leave until someone can look at him a little later. Tell him to be patient—it’ll either be one of us or paramedics.” He reached for his coat and medical bag. “Let’s go.”

Jack was the first to arrive at the scene of the accident, Preacher not far behind him. He got ropes and pulleys out of his truck bed, rapidly secured it to a tree and rappelled down the hill to the stranded bus. The hillside was slick with ice and snow and he slid around, landing on his knees more than once. He was almost there when he glanced up and saw Preacher standing at the top of the hill, looking down at him.

The ignition on the bus was off. It just sat there, its back end up against a big tree trunk. There was no movement. He got as close to the driver’s window as he could. “Molly?”

Slowly, cautiously, the window slid open. Molly looked out at him. She had a cut on her chin and a big, purple bruise on her forehead. “Jack,” she said in a breath.

“Can you keep everyone in the bus still?” he asked. “We’re waiting for rescue and paramedics.”

“They’ll be still. No one’s moving. But we’re pretty scared in here.”

He heard some weak crying in the bus. “Yeah, I know. What have you got for injuries? Have any idea?”

“Past these first couple of rows, no idea, Jack. Everyone says something hurts, but they can hold still.”

He glanced at the rear of the bus, hooked up against a big sequoia. It looked as if a little jostling could bust it loose and send it sailing down the hill. “Here’s the thing, Molly—this bus isn’t stable at all. It looks bad out here. We need rescue to brace the bus before taking people out. Understand?”

She pulled her head in and spoke to the kids, calmly and firmly. “We can’t move a muscle,” she told them all. “We have to be perfectly still until the bus is braced and can’t slide. Rescue is coming. Then they’ll get us out. Without moving a muscle, tell me you understand,” she instructed.

Jack heard small, careful voices from inside. “How many, Molly?”

“Eighteen,” she said.

“Okay, could be a while. Close the window. Don’t let the heat out. I’ll stay right here by your window until they get here. It’s going to be okay.”

She smiled weakly. “Okay,” she said. And then the driver’s window slowly closed.

The temptation to try to get as many kids out as possible was almost irresistible. And the thought that he could be holding himself here, hanging on to a rope, right next to the bus, and see it plummet down the hill and crash, was enough to make his insides grip and knot. The hardest thing about any kind of life-threatening situation was always the wait. Taking action, that wasn’t as hard. Sometimes you just moved, not thinking, performing on instinct, getting it done. Doing nothing, waiting for help to arrive, it was just torture.

Jack moved to the right enough to brace himself against a tree trunk so he wouldn’t have to hang on for the duration. He watched the bus, watched through the windows. It was cold as hell; he hoped they could do something before it became a toss-up as to what was worse, those kids plunging down the mountain or freezing to death in there.

It seemed a lifetime before he heard the sound of engines. “Preach—you have to keep everyone but emergency back! The kids in the bus are trying to hold still, and it’s hard!”

“Yo!” he heard back from the top. “I’ve got help up here, Jack!”

Slowly the sky grew darker and it seemed an eternity before what sounded like heavy equipment started arriving—fire trucks, he assumed. Suddenly the dusk was lit by a blast of light coming from above; high-powered beams slanted down the hill, illuminating the bus.

It grew colder; the wind picked up. There was a sound from the top of the hill that sounded like a jackhammer. Finally two firefighters rappelled down the hill. One went to the driver’s window while the other slid close to the side of the bus and used a flashlight to view the undercarriage.

A third man in heavy turnouts and boots came down the hill, being lowered by a thick cable. As Jack watched, the three of them went to work under the bus, attaching the cable to the axle with giant hooks. He couldn’t resist checking his watch—they were at it for almost a half hour when two emerged from beneath the bus. The third said to Jack, “Can you get a child up that hill?”

“You bet,” he said. “I can come back for more.”

“We’ll let you know,” he said. Then he went to the rear of the bus and carefully pulled open the emergency door. The bus wobbled slightly, but held, secured by the cable.

The firefighter at the door shouted into the bus. “I need your attention, I need you to listen carefully and do just what I ask. The bus is still rocky, unstable. We’re going to take you off now, one at a time. Slowly. And we have to take you from the front of the bus first, keeping the weight in the rear. You have to walk down the aisle one at a time, very slowly, very carefully. The next one doesn’t start down the aisle till the one before is off the bus. Does everyone understand? If you don’t understand, ask me now before we start.” There was no response.

Jack shifted himself off the tree and held on to his ropes, moving sideways until he could get near where the firefighter was at the rear door.

“Okay, driver—how about you first,” he yelled. “Show them how it’s done.”

“Driver last,” she shouted back. “I don’t leave my kids. Becky, you go. No one has to show you. When Becky’s out, Anna goes. Easy does it. Almost over, kids.”

As soon as the trembling little girl cleared the door, the firefighter grabbed her, passed her to Jack. “Hold on around my neck, angel,” he whispered. “Almost home.” And as he slowly pulled himself up the hill, the rescue team was moving down past him, rappelling gear and harnesses in place.

The sight at the top of the hill almost threw him into a state of shock. The lights that flooded the area were Paul’s construction beams; the cable that held the bus was attached to a brace that came off a forklift that had been bolted right into the asphalt, also Paul’s. In addition to rescue equipment, there were vehicles everywhere. A paramedic rig and fire truck sat right at the top of the hill. Next to it on one side the Grace Valley ambulance with Docs Stone and Hudson at the ready; on the other side stood Mel, Cameron and Shelby beside the Hummer, the back hatch open. And there were so many people, it looked as though the entire town was present, all being kept behind a perimeter set up by sheriff’s deputies.

As soon as he put the little girl on her feet, there was a huge cheer. Cameron rushed forward and scooped the girl up, taking her to the back of the Hummer to look her over.

Right behind Jack, another child was brought up the hill, and again the cheer. Slowly, one by one, eighteen kids ranging in age from six to sixteen, were delivered to the top of the hill. There was a possible broken collarbone, a few head lacerations, lots of bruises and scrapes, and one possibly serious head injury was rushed off to Valley Hospital by Dr. Stone in the ambulance.

Jack walked to the edge of the hill to watch the last passenger come up the hill, being aided by two firefighters. Molly. He reached out for her hand to pull her the rest of the way. Blood ran down her chin and had dripped onto her jacket. The second she reached the top, the town cheered.

She looked up at Jack with tears in her eyes. “Are they crazy?” she asked in a low voice. “I thought they’d tar and feather me!”

“For ice?” Jack asked.

“I swear to God, I was going slow, for the ice…”

“Molly, you kept your head. You kept eighteen kids still for two hours. You probably saved all their lives.”

“Jack, I don’t know that I was ever so scared.”

He put a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against his chest. “Yeah. Me, too.” He took a breath. “Me, too.”

Luke had gone to the bar, hoping to get dinner to take home for himself, Art and Shelby. Upon finding it closed, he heard about the accident and, like everyone else who heard, headed that way. There were so many people in the thick of a rescue that was well under way by the time he got there, he didn’t get too close. He stayed back behind the perimeter tape, behind a crowd of parents and townsfolk, watching in fascination as a team that combined men from town—Paul and some of his crew, Preacher, the general, Mike V.—and the rescue team worked. They bolted down a brace, fastened a heavy cable from a huge spool and ran it down the hill.

While this was going on, he saw Shelby with Mel and Cameron, saw her rush forward to lead a child to the Humvee for medical evaluation and treatment. She was in the thick of it, helping to administer first aid, soothing crying children, calming disgruntled parents, snapping to attention with every request from either Mel, Cameron or even a paramedic. She looked as if she’d been doing it all her life.

Finally, after standing for well over an hour, his breath swirling around, he saw the firefighters bring up the bus driver, the very one who’d splattered him on his way into town. He’d been listening to the talk in the crowd of towns-people, that Jack had been down there, hanging on to a rope, keeping her calm while she had the bigger job of keeping all the children from wiggling around or trying to escape the bus.

He saw Jack give her a hug, then saw Shelby go to her, take her hand and lead her to the paramedic rig to have her bleeding chin looked at. Mel followed, watching them treat her injury.

People were beginning to leave, or follow their children to the hospital or take uninjured kids home. Road-construction barriers were set up around the brace that held the cable that held the bus; California Highway Patrol was directing traffic out of the area. And Luke walked toward Shelby as she was packing supplies back into the Humvee.

“Hey, there,” he said. “What’s new?”

She jumped in surprise. “Luke! How long have you been here?”

“Little over an hour,” he said. “By the time I got here, the fire department, police and paramedics were all over the place and I had to stay behind the barrier with everyone else. I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Did you see that bus down there?”

“I didn’t want to get too close. There was an awful lot going on.”

“The floodlights are still on it. You should look. It’ll scare you to death.”

“So—what they’re saying is, you found a couple of hurt kids who got out before it slid down the hill and went for help.”

Before she could answer, Mel was beside them. “Correct,” she answered for Shelby. “You would have been impressed, Luke. She never flinched. She knew all the right things to do and remained perfectly calm. Efficient, skilled, confident.” Mel smiled. “She’s going to be an incredible nurse. You should be so proud of her.”

“I am,” Luke replied. “And not at all surprised.” He draped an arm around her shoulders.

And Shelby thought, Oh God. I have to get this over with. She didn’t need advice from Mel or anyone else. She’d given him every chance, but he never said a word about how he felt about her, not a syllable about wanting a life with her. She had to make herself move on before she couldn’t. Tears gathered in her eyes. “Let me finish up here, Luke. I’m going to follow Mel and Cameron back to the clinic, help clean up the Humvee, restock it. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you crying?” he asked softly.