Aftershock. Jill Sorenson
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her instincts, and they warned her not to get any closer. “I have other patients to attend to, but you’re welcome to bring him in. We’ve got some medical equipment set up in front of a motor home.”
“We take care of our own,” Jeb said, squinting at Garrett.
It sounded like a threat.
“Doesn’t appear to be any way out of here,” Garrett remarked.
Jeb sucked on his cigarette. “Nope.”
“Might be days, even weeks, before we escape.”
“Is that so?”
“We should ration our supplies.”
Jeb reached into the cardboard case of beer, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. “You want one, pretty lady?”
“No,” she said tightly.
Cracking it open, he took a long pull. “Well, that’s a real good idea, hero. But you’ll be prying this beer out of my cold, dead hand.”
Mickey crushed an empty can in his fist, punctuating the statement.
“It’s every man for himself, the way I see it.”
Lauren’s stomach tightened with tension. Jeb and Mickey were spoiling for a fight, and Garrett might be angry enough to oblige. These men were playing with their lives by drinking an entire case of beer. They were wasting limited resources.
“Okay,” he said, grasping Lauren’s elbow. “Let’s go.”
She allowed him to lead her away, but she didn’t like it. When they were at a safe distance, she tugged her arm from his grip.
Cursing, he apologized. “I should have stood my ground.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“They deserved a beating.”
“Yes, but why make enemies? We have other things to worry about.”
“Now they think I won’t step up.”
“They’re not worth it,” she argued.
He was visibly upset, his jaw clenched and his shoulders stiff. Lauren hoped he wouldn’t go back to settle the score without her. Those guys were pretty tough looking. If either one of them alone challenged Garrett, she’d put her money on Garrett. But she didn’t think he could take them both on.
“Stay with me,” she said, putting her hand on the crook of his arm. It felt hard and hot beneath her fingertips. “Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, frowning. He seemed surprised that she needed reassurance. Or maybe he was just reacting to her touch. His gaze dropped to her hand, which appeared pale and slender on his dirt-streaked skin. Then it returned to her face, settling on her trembling lips.
Lauren stared at him for a moment, her heart racing. She wasn’t in the habit of getting so familiar with strangers. Her strong attachment to him made sense, under these circumstances, but it still disturbed her. She liked being independent.
A vehicle horn sounded in the distance. It was Don, not an automatic alarm. One of the patients needed her.
She started jogging back to the RV, Garrett at her side.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Aftershocks rattled the cavern at semiregular intervals. Garrett rigged a set of construction lights to illuminate her workspace. They were able to see a large portion of the cavern. It was a blessing and a curse.
They were trapped under an impenetrable pile of concrete. A freeway underpass marked the south side, which had sustained the least damage. Its high ceiling had prevented the freeway sections from falling flat on top of each other and crushing everything underneath. Instead, the pieces had settled like a house of cards.
A broken, bumpy roadway stretched across the lower level. Massive walls of concrete blocked all sides. The largest wall was on the north end, where Lauren’s ambulance had been crushed. A mountain of rubble loomed in the west. The motor home sat near the middle of the south section, somewhat protected by the underpass.
The surrounding area resembled a parking garage from a dystopian nightmare. Blackened skeletons sat behind the wheels of smoldering cars. Broken bodies, blood spatter and safety glass littered the ground.
Looking up offered no respite. The ceiling was as high as fifty feet in some places. Daylight peeked through a couple of hairline cracks along the east wall. None appeared wider than Lauren’s wrist. Garrett had searched every inch of the perimeter, paying special attention to the chunks of concrete at the west end. Even if they had a bulldozer, and room to maneuver, he said, they couldn’t get through.
Lauren didn’t have time to despair their entrapment. She was too busy trying to keep her patients alive.
Penny was recovering well under Cadence’s care. Don helped Lauren with the others. She felt like a Civil War sawbones with her bloody apron and rudimentary techniques. Surgery was way beyond her scope, and she managed a few minor miracles with first-aid supplies and local anesthetics.
The first woman, Beverly Engle, drifted in and out of consciousness. Lauren gave her as much morphine as she could spare before immobilizing her broken leg. She secured the limb to a two-by-four.
Her second patient was a young, athletic-looking man. He had a serious head injury and didn’t respond to any stimuli. There wasn’t much she could do for him, besides administer IV fluids and monitor his condition.
Her third patient, an older man, had multiple internal injuries. She wasn’t surprised when he went into cardiac arrest, but she fought hard to save him.
Working frantically, she gave him oxygen through a tube, used a defibrillator and performed CPR for as long as she could. Exhausted, she let Garrett take over, to no avail. The man passed away just before midnight.
She was too drained to cry.
After Lauren cleaned herself up with medical wipes, she accepted a peanut butter sandwich that Cadence had made earlier. To her surprise, she ate with a ravenous appetite, finishing the meal quickly.
“You should get some rest,” Garrett suggested.
She nodded. Mrs. Engle and the coma patient were stable, and she wasn’t having any luck saving people. He turned off the construction lights, switching on a small camp lantern he’d found in one of the cars.
“Don said there’s space in the RV.”
She wasn’t sure about that. Penny and Cadence were sleeping on the only bed; Don was slumped in the front seat. She didn’t want to disturb them. “I’d rather stay close,” she murmured, “in case someone needs help during the night.”
He lifted his chin toward a quiet corner. “I put some blankets over there.”
“Where will you sleep?”
His gaze shifted to the dark recesses of the cavern. The men in the pickup had been listening to the radio earlier. Now it was silent. “I won’t.”
She studied him from beneath lowered lashes, her pulse accelerating. He needed rest, too. If she invited him to lie down with her, he might think she wanted something more. She didn’t—she was exhausted. But she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. From the way his eyes traveled over her, she suspected the feeling was mutual.
She also sensed that he wouldn’t act on it. The time and place were wrong. He seemed uncomfortable with her proximity, reluctant to share personal details. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe he wasn’t available.
Did he have a girlfriend he was worried about? A wife and children?
She was reluctant to ask such weighted questions. So she said good-night, and went to sleep alone.
CHAPTER THREE
LAUREN DREAMT