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      It took well over an hour for her to help the eight relatively uninjured victims up to the door where they had been winched up to the bridge and into the care of waiting rescuers. Eight heavy people who had required assistance to make the climb. Constant guidance and encouragement, if not actual physical support. Julia had to be exhausted both physically and mentally.

      ‘Angus and Dale could take over the next stage,’ Mac suggested.

      ‘No way.’ Julia was heading for the base of the carriage again and the crisp words via the communication system put paid to any further suggestions on Mac’s part. ‘The job’s nearly done and there’s no way I’m deserting Ken. He knows me, now.’

      And she knew. She was deeply involved in this scenario and, knowing Jules, she would be committed to the people and the mission a thousand per cent. If they wanted to get her out of there it would be neither easy nor pleasant. And she was right, the job was nearly done. She had managed to get virtually all the people from the carriage out and Mac knew there was one conscious, injured person, one unconscious and one dead.

      So Mac went in to join her because Julia was his partner and everybody knew just how tight a team these two were these days. Inseparable. And darned good at their jobs.

      This time when Mac came down on the winch line he brought equipment and the medical supplies they would need.

      The bottom two rows of upturned seats had become a kind of triage station.

      Julia indicated one of her patients. ‘This man has been unconscious since I got my first glance inside.’

      The figure was slumped on the seat by the window but Mac could see the end of a plastic OP airway in his mouth. Julia had obviously assessed him and done what she could in the brief window of time that triaging allowed for.

      ‘Head injury,’ Julia continued. ‘GCS 3. Rapid, weak pulse and query Cheyne-Stokes breathing pattern.’

      The man was very seriously injured, then. Unlikely to survive. If they took the time to evacuate him first, others who could survive might die.

      ‘And this is Ken.’ Julia was hanging onto the edge of the seat across the aisle now. ‘Spinal injury. Paralysis of both legs and paresthesia in both hands.’

      A high spinal injury, then. He would need very careful immobilisation before evacuation so they didn’t exacerbate the injury.

      Julia dropped lower, shining the light of her helmet on the very end of the carriage.

      ‘Status zero here,’ she told Mac quietly. ‘There were several people on top of him to start with. He’s too heavy for me to shift but I’ve moved enough to be fairly sure there’s no one underneath him.’

      Mac reached down and caught the arm and shoulder of the heavy body, lifting it further than Julia would have managed. A jumble of luggage, personal possessions like books and drink bottles filled a fair bit of space but there was no sign of movement that might indicate a survivor struggling to get out. He could see shards of broken glass in the debris as well. And so much blood he felt a familiar knot tighten in his gut. He let the man’s body fall back gently.

      ‘Let’s deal with what we’ve got first.’

      Julia nodded. ‘Ken first?’

      Mac agreed. The sooner they had his spine immobilised and protected, the better the outcome might be for him.

      Julia wriggled into a position where she could support Ken’s head while Mac went to get the equipment they would need. A neck collar and survival blankets to start with. Oxygen and IV gear and pain relief. He found her squashed into the tiny gap beside Ken, ready to take the collar and ease it into position, and it wasn’t the first time he thought it was a blessing that she was so little and mobile. There was no way he could have managed that feat so competently.

      ‘Do you think I’ve broken my neck?’ Ken sounded terrified.

      ‘This is a precaution,’ Julia reassured him. ‘We don’t know what part of your spine has been injured and we need to keep it all in line. It’s really important that you don’t move even after the collar’s secured because the rest of your back isn’t protected yet. We’ll do everything we can but we need you to help too. Can you do that?’

      The huff of sound was still fearful. ‘I guess.’

      ‘Just hang in there, mate. You’re doing really, really well.’

      Mac was busy opening packages but he could hear the smile in Julia’s voice as she reassured her patient. He knew exactly how her face would be looking as she spoke even though he couldn’t see it. Ken probably couldn’t see it either. He might see the way her lips curved back into her cheeks but he wouldn’t be able to see the way Julia’s eyes always smiled right along with her mouth. The way her whole face—even her whole body sometimes—seemed connected to her emotional state.

      Fascinating to watch. Or provoke. Mac wasn’t the only one on station who took pleasure in engaging Julia in an animated discussion.

      Or delight in making her smile.

      ‘We’re going to give you something for that pain very soon.’ Julia was swabbing a patch on Ken’s forearm. ‘Wee scratch coming up. There. All done. Wasn’t so bad, was it?’

      ‘Didn’t feel a thing. You know what you’re doing, don’t you, lassie?’

      Julia chuckled. ‘Sure do. Now, are you allergic to any drugs that you know of?’

      Mac flicked the top of an ampoule to move the fluid inside. Then he snapped it and slid a needle into the narrow neck to draw up the drug.

      Ken was right. Julia knew what she was doing. He was right, too. She was involved in this scenario to the extent that it would have been detrimental to try and give her a break. She had established a connection with Ken and he was in exactly the right frame of mind to co-operate with whatever measures needed to be taken to rescue him.

      He trusted Julia and Mac knew the trust wasn’t misplaced. He had to feel completely dependent on her right now but he knew that she would be treating his vulnerability with the same kind of compassion and skill she brought to the medical practices he had witnessed her administering.

      She fitted an oxygen mask onto Ken and hooked it up to the small cylinder from the pack. ‘I won’t run fluids,’ she told Mac. ‘BP’s down but it’s more likely to be neurogenic than hypovolaemic shock.’

      ‘What does that mean?’ Ken asked fearfully.

      ‘Any injury to the spine can interfere with nerves,’ Julia told him. ‘That’s why you can’t feel your legs at the moment and you’re getting pins and needles in your hands. It’s not necessarily permanent,’ she added firmly, as though she’d given this reassurance more than once. ‘We can’t know what damage there is but what we can do is take care not to make it any worse.’

      A lot of care had to go into the next stage of this rescue. They had to get Ken flat and secured onto a stretcher without twisting or bending his vertebrae. Then they would have to cushion his head and strap him so securely onto a stretcher there would be no danger of movement during the extrication process.

      Minutes ticked past swiftly. Mac could feel exhaustion biding its time, waiting for an opportunity to ambush him, and he knew that Julia had to be a long way further down that track. Not that she was slowing down, of course. She never did. Mac was proud of his partner. Not just for her endurance or the way she had crawled into the cramped space by the window to hold Ken’s head to support his neck but for the way she effortlessly turned her skills to emotional support for their patient.

      ‘Glasgow’s home for you, isn’t it, Ken?’ she asked.

      ‘Aye. I was just going up to Inverness on business for the day.’

      ‘What do you do?’

      ‘My company makes umbrellas.’

      Julia chuckled.

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