“Got it,” Shelby said, heading for the phone.
She was already on the phone to Jack when Mel and Cameron were bringing the kids into the clinic. She watched Cam take the boy into the treatment room as Mel took the little girl into the exam room. Shelby was on the phone to Connie when she heard a loud cry from the treatment room—Cameron had likely yanked that shoulder to pop it back into the joint.
Shelby paced for a couple of seconds, waiting. Then she picked up the phone and called Walt, sending him out to help. Then thinking that if anyone had heavy equipment that could be useful, it would be Paul; she asked her uncle to find him in case he could help. And then, thankfully, Connie came in the door. Right at that moment, Mel came out of the exam room and faced her.
“We have a school-bus accident,” she said, reaching for her coat. “First aid will probably be necessary. Maybe triage. We have to go out there right away. There’s a small child in the exam room—her name is Mindy. She appears to be all right, just some scrapes, but you have to get her help to contact her mother. Cam’s treating an older boy. Someone has to stay here in the clinic, Connie. My kids are sleeping in the kitchen, due to wake up. Call for help if you need to, but I need to have Shelby with me. Can you manage this?”
“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.