Aftershock. Jill Sorenson
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the front windshield. When the safety glass shattered, he knocked most of it loose with his fist.
Lauren winced, aware that the small shards would leave shallow lacerations all over his knuckles.
In her panicked state, the teenager wouldn’t listen to Garrett’s instructions. Either she didn’t understand him, or she was frozen with fear. He went in for her with no hesitation, intent on physically pulling her out of the car. About halfway through, she came to her senses and worked with him instead of against him.
He was gentle with her, taking care that she didn’t scrape her belly or come into direct contact with broken glass.
At last, they made it through the front window. Lauren released the breath she’d been holding, her knees almost buckling with relief. Yanking a safety blanket from her pack, she rushed forward and wrapped the girl in it. Her eyes were unfocused and her breathing shallow. She needed immediate medical attention.
“Get down,” Garrett shouted, placing a firm hand on Lauren’s shoulder. She complied instantly, helping the teenager assume a crouched position on the hard cement. He put his arms around them both, making a shield with his body.
Seconds later, the car exploded.
The smell of gasoline burned her nostrils and heat crackled behind her back. Even with Garrett’s protection, they weren’t safe here. This was definitely a hot zone. There were multiple injury hazards. Then again, the whole area was a death trap, and she hadn’t seen a way out yet.
“Tía,” the girl sobbed, looking back at the blaze. If the woman inside had been alive a moment ago, she wasn’t now.
“We have to go,” Garrett said, lifting both women to their feet. Although the girl appeared distraught and disoriented, she stumbled forward at his urging.
Lauren saw a white beacon in the distance. A small recreational vehicle appeared whole and undamaged, with no fires nearby. Assuming the RV had a shower or sink, she could wash the gasoline off her patient.
“There,” she said, pointing it out to Garrett. “The RV will have water.”
He let go of Lauren’s arm and scooped up the teenager, who was struggling to walk. A pregnant woman was an awkward load, but he bore her weight easily. Lauren suspected that he had military training. He carried himself like a soldier.
The girl clung to his shoulders, dazed.
“What’s your name?” Lauren asked, tugging down her respirator mask.
“Penny,” she rasped.
“When are you due?”
“Next week.”
Garrett’s eyes met Lauren’s over the top of the girl’s head. This wasn’t good. Lauren hurried toward the camper, banging on the side door. “Emergency services,” she yelled. “I need to bring a patient in for treatment.”
A man in his sixties opened the door, his glasses reflecting flames. He didn’t appear to be injured, and she felt a surge of hope. There were other survivors. “Come in,” the man said, stepping aside. Garrett couldn’t fit through the narrow doorway with Penny, so he set her down and helped her ascend the short steps.
There was another girl inside, also unharmed. She looked about twelve.
“Do you have a shower?” Lauren asked.
“In the bathroom.” The man gestured toward a small door. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
She glanced at Garrett, who appeared poised to go back outside. What she needed was a safe space to treat Penny, and the interior of the motor home looked adequate. There was a small table and a twin bed in back. “Can you bring me the oxygen tank and mask from the ambulance?”
Garrett nodded. “Of course.”
“I’ll go with you,” the man said to Garrett. “My granddaughter can stay here.”
Lauren gave the grandfather her hard hat and respirator.
“How much water is there?” Garrett asked.
“About ten gallons,” he replied.
Garrett turned to Lauren. “Try not to use too much.”
She understood why. They needed to conserve water. If the earthquake’s epicenter was in downtown San Diego, there might be thousands of casualties. Tens of thousands. Disaster response teams would have their hands full.
They could be here awhile.
CHAPTER TWO
AS SOON AS THE MEN WERE GONE, Lauren helped Penny remove her gasoline-stained dress.
The little girl, who introduced herself as Cadence, put the soiled fabric in a trash bag. Penny’s undergarments were dry, so Lauren left them alone. She ushered her patient into the cramped shower stall and turned on the spray.
“Any contractions?”
“No.”
Lauren’s top priority was Penny, not the fetus, so she evaluated her overall condition. She didn’t appear to be bleeding or have any broken bones. Her breathing and pulse rate were accelerated, but that was to be expected.
After they washed the gasoline off her hair and skin, Lauren placed a stethoscope over her rounded abdomen. She was all baby, with slim legs and arms. Her belly looked stretched to the limit, her breasts full.
The fetal heart rate was also slightly quicker than normal. Lauren would have to monitor mother and child very closely. They were lucky the traumatic series of events hadn’t caused her to go into labor; Lauren had a feeling she’d be busy with other patients. “You’re doing great,” she said, and meant it. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
There was something familiar about Penny, but Lauren couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was just that a face like hers invited closer attention. With her flawless features and above-average height, she could have been a model. The dress she’d been wearing looked designer, and her undergarments, while demure, appeared high-quality.
Cadence, who had a suitcase full of clothes, found a roomy T-shirt and a pair of baggy pajama pants for Penny to wear. Lauren helped her get dressed and encouraged her to sit down on the bed. After Garrett brought in the oxygen tank, Lauren put the mask on Penny’s face and instructed her to take deep breaths.
“We have more wounded,” Garrett said.
A chill traveled up Lauren’s spine. “I’ll be right there.” She gave Penny a tremulous smile. “You just sit tight and rest, okay?”
Penny curled up on the bed and closed her eyes, exhausted.
Lauren turned to Cadence. She was a pretty girl with dark eyes and curly black hair. Biracial, she estimated, although the grandfather was Caucasian. “Can you give her some water and a snack, if she’s hungry?”
Cadence nodded solemnly. “I’ll take good care of her.”
Outside, it looked like a war zone. Garrett and his new helper were carrying a body on the stretcher they’d found inside the ambulance. The patient, an older woman, was unconscious and appeared to have a broken femur.
Lauren steeled herself as they approached.
“There are others,” Garrett said, his face contorted as he bore most of the patient’s weight. “We need the stretcher back.”
“Okay,” she said, studying their surroundings. There was an open space in front of the RV where she could do triage. “Set her down there and bring me something to cover the ground. Blankets, floor mats, whatever you can find.”
“I have a cot in the RV,” Cadence’s grandfather said.
“That would be great.”
“I’m