Wishing for a Miracle (2 page)

F
ACES.

Terrified faces. A huddle of humanity in what had been one end of the carriage and was now a narrow base. It was too dark to see clearly. Now mid-afternoon on a typical, drizzly autumn day, natural light was fading fast but the light on Julia's helmet could only go so far through the barrier of glass and deep shadow within. The first two rows of the seats now facing upwards had people on them and were much easier to see. The closest figure was lying slumped.

More people were huddled on the seats on the other side of the aisle.

How many were there?

How badly injured were they?

Julia could see them watching her. A woman on the far side, with a child clutched in her arms, was sobbing but the sound wasn't reaching through the window that was still intact on this side. Or not through the padding inside her helmet and the background noise that included a helicopter hovering directly overhead.

Television crews, probably, capturing the unfolding
drama of this rescue. The footage would make international news, that was for sure. Julia spared a fleeting thought for the relatives of everyone involved. Including hers. Thank goodness her sister Anne would be unable to recognise that it was her doing such a dangerous job.

‘Can you hear me?' Julia shouted.

‘Ouch!' came Mac's voice.

‘Sorry.' Julie lifted her microphone, tucking it under the rim of her helmet. She called again and a boy inside, who looked about fourteen, nodded warily.

‘How many of you are there?' Julia called.

The boy's eyes slid sideways but he didn't move his head. He looked hunched. Terrified of moving, probably, in case it was enough to send the carriage plummeting to the bottom of the gully. He shrugged helplessly and then winced and Julia could see the way he was cradling one arm with the other. A fracture? Dislocated shoulder?

The woman who had been sobbing in the seat across the aisle tried to get closer, the child still in her arms. She was blocked by the still shape of the slumped man.

‘
Help
!' she screamed. ‘Please…
help
us!'

Her words were clearly audible. So was the panicked response from others still in there, telling her to stay still, prompted by the sway of the carriage her movement had caused. Julia's hands were still against the window and she simply moved with it, gently swinging out and then back. Not far at all but more than enough for her heart to skip a beat and for a soft curse from Mac to echo in her earphones.

Julia flipped down the small arm of her microphone. ‘Pull me up to the door, Mac. I need to get inside.'

‘No way!'

‘Can't triage from here. I can see at least six people and some look OK to evacuate fast.'

‘Get them to climb up and we'll winch from the door.'

Julia frowned. The woman was close to hysterical and wasn't about to let go of the child. The teenage boy had an injured arm or shoulder.

‘Not practical,' she informed Mac. ‘They need assistance. Anyone else qualified to operate the winch up there?'

‘Yes.' The word was reluctant. ‘Red Watch is here now as well.'

Another SERT partnership of Angus and Dale. This was good.

‘I'll get inside,' Julia suggested. ‘You winch down with a nappy harness and I'll bring out as many as I can. Then we'll be able to assess what we've got left.'

Mac must have shifted his microphone but Julia could hear faint voices in animated conversation and knew that her idea was being discussed with others up there on the bridge. A long minute later and Mac was ready to talk to her again.

‘On one condition,' he said briskly. ‘We're monitoring the cables. We might not get much warning if things aren't going to hold but if I give the word you have to get yourself out of there. Stat. No argument. Got it?'

‘Got it.'

Julia did get it and her promise of co-operation was sincere. She heard the faint wail of distress as she was
hoisted away from the faces at the bottom of the carriage despite her hand signals to indicate that things were in hand and rescue was close.

And then there she was. Beside the door. She had to climb inside and unclip the winch line that suddenly felt like an umbilical cord in its ability to sustain life.

Fear kicked in as she did precisely that. Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded so hard it was almost painful. For a horribly long moment, Julia thought she'd gone too far this time. She couldn't do this after all.

‘Jules? Talk to me.'

The voice was soft but she could hear a faint reflection of her own fear. Mac was afraid for
her
and it was more than concern for the wellbeing of his colleague. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

Stupidly—and so inappropriately it was easy to contain—Julia felt an odd tightness in her throat. A prickle behind her eyes that advertised embryonic tears. She dismissed them with a simple swallow. She didn't need to go there. All she'd needed had been to hear his voice. To remind herself that she wasn't doing this alone. That she had the best possible person in the world watching her back right now.

‘I'm…inside,' she relayed. ‘Climbing down.' She moved as she spoke. Cautiously. Hanging onto the back of a seat frame as her feet found purchase on the cushioned back of the next seat down the vertical aisle. ‘How are those cables looking, mate?'

‘Good,' came the terse response. Mac was concentrating as hard as she was.

‘These seats make quite a good ladder.' Julia kept
talking because she wanted Mac to keep responding. She wanted to hear his voice. Maybe she needed to keep hearing it because it gave her more courage than she could ever otherwise summon.

But when she was halfway down the aisle, the smell hit her. The smell of fear. And she could hear the voices and moans and she knew that within seconds she would be able to speak to and touch these unfortunate people. She could start doing the job she was trained to do and help those who had been plunged into a nightmare they couldn't deal with alone.

Julia felt the power that came with the knowledge that
she
could help and that power gave her complete focus. Knowing that Mac was close gave her strength, yes, but that was simply a platform now. This was it.

Time to go to work.

‘Who can hear me?' she called, pausing briefly. ‘Keep still but raise your hand if you can.'

She wanted to count. To find out how many were conscious enough to hear her and physically capable of any movement at all.

One hand went up tentatively. And then there was another. And another. Six? No, seven. And dim patches where she could see the shape of people but no hands. The less injured people would have to be evacuated first to allow access to the others.

The woman she'd earlier deemed close to hysteria was still sobbing. ‘Please…' she called back. ‘Take Carla first. She's only seven…
Please
!'

Julia revised her count to eight. Carla was being clutched too tightly to have raised her hand.

She climbed closer. The teenage boy with the injured arm was silent but she was close enough to see that his eyes were locked on her progress. Searching for her face. Silently pleading with as much passion as Carla's mother.

Julia had to tear her gaze away to try and reassess the number and condition of victims she would be dealing with. To triage the whole scene, but it was difficult. The light had faded even more outside now and it was much darker in here. The light on her helmet could only illuminate a patch at a time and it was like trying to put a mental jigsaw together.

People were jumbled together. Right now it was impossible to see which limbs belonged to which person or even how many people were in the tangle.

‘Get me out!' A male voice from behind Carla and her mother was loud. ‘I can't feel my legs. I need help.'

Julia saw hands come over the seat back behind the still sobbing woman. Good grief, was the man trying to move himself despite possible spinal or neck injuries? Someone beside him groaned and then someone else screamed as the man's frantic efforts created a shuffle of movement and made the carriage swing alarmingly.

‘Stay absolutely
still
, and I mean everybody!' Julia injected every ounce of authority she could into the command. ‘Listen to me,' she continued, her tone softening a little. ‘I know you're all scared but you've all been incredibly brave for a long time and I need you all to hang onto that courage so you can help me do my job.'

Carla's mother sniffed and fixed wide eyes on Julia. She would do anything, her gaze said. Anything that
would, at least, save her child. The man behind her was quiet. Hopefully listening. Even a groan from nearby sounded as if someone was doing their best to stifle the involuntary interruption.

‘We're going to get you all out,' Julia said confidently, ‘but we have to do this carefully. One at a time. I'm going to help anyone who can move to get to the top of the carriage where someone will be waiting to carry them up to the bridge.'

Would Mac be there yet? Dangling on a winch line with a harness in his hands that he would pass through the door to Julia to buckle onto each survivor?

‘I'm here, Jules.' It wasn't the first time that Mac had seemed to be able to read her thoughts. ‘Ready when you are.'

‘When we've got as many as we can out, we'll be able to take care of all of you that are injured and we'll get you out as well,' Julia told the passengers. ‘Do you all understand? Can you help me?'

She heard a whimper of fear and another groan but amongst the sounds of suffering came assent.

‘Just get on with it!' the loud man was pleading now. ‘Stop talking and
do
something.'

Julia climbed past another seat. She made sure her feet were secure and then anchored herself with one hand. ‘Pass Carla to me,' she ordered.

‘
No-o-o-o
!' the child shrieked.

‘You
have
to, baby.' With tears streaming down her face but her voice remarkably calm, Carla's mother peeled small arms from around her neck and pushed her child towards Julia. ‘I'll be there soon, I promise.' Her voice
broke on the last word but Julia now had a small girl clinging her like a terrified monkey and she didn't take the time to reassure the mother. She was climbing upwards again and part of her brain was planning ahead. The teenage boy next. She had a triangular bandage in the neat pack belted to her hips. She could secure his injured arm and he should be able to climb with her. Maybe Carla's mother after that, so that her panic wouldn't make it harder for everyone else to wait their turn.

There would be others after that and then the real work could begin. Assessing and stabilising the injured and getting them out of here and on the way to definitive medical care.

By then the weight in the carriage and the potential for unexpected movement would be well down. The cables would have had a reasonably thorough test. Mac or one of the other SERT guys could join her. Someone would have to because there was no way she could carry the injured up herself.

Carrying a slight, seven-year-old girl was proving hard enough. The extra weight made it an effort to balance and then push up to the next padded rung of this odd ladder of seats. Julia's breathing was becoming labored and the muscles in her legs and arms were burning. She had to concentrate more with every step so that fatigue wouldn't cause a slip that might send them both falling down the central aisle.

She couldn't even afford the extra effort of looking up past her burden to see how close she was to the top or whether Mac was peering down to watch her progress.

‘You're almost there. Two more.'

How did he
do
that? Know precisely when she needed encouragement? This time, he could probably see the way she hesitated before each upward push. How each hesitation was becoming a little longer so he wasn't really mind-reading. It just felt like that.

She could do two more. No. Julia could feel the determined line of her lips twist into a kind of smile. She could do
ten
more knowing that Mac was waiting at the top.

‘Good job.'

The quiet words were praise enough for her efforts. Julia was too breathless to respond immediately, though. She simply nodded once and then held out her hand for the nappy harness. Then she edged—carefully—into the first space of upturned seats so that she could sit and use both arms and hands for her next task.

‘It's OK, sweetheart,' she told the rigid bundle on her lap. ‘I'm going to put these special straps around you and then Mac's going to get you out of here and carry you right up to the top.'

‘No-o-o!'
Arms tightened their vice-like grip around Julia's neck.

‘I need to go back and look after the other people. Like your mummy. You'll be fine, Carla, I promise.'

But the child was shaking now. Whimpering with fear.

‘Mac is a
very
nice man,' Julia told her.

‘Cheers, mate,' came with the chuckle in her earphones.

‘And he really, really likes children,' Julia added. ‘Looking after little girls like you is absolutely his favourite thing to do.'

The earphones stayed silent this time. What was Mac thinking? Remembering occasions when he'd poured
his heart and soul into trying to save a child? The heartbreak when he hadn't been successful?

Carla had relaxed fractionally. Enough for Julia to be able to slip the straps into position and then close and tighten buckles. She hoped the silence wasn't because Mac was putting two and two together somehow. That he had noticed at some point over the last weeks the way she avoided prolonged contact with paediatric patients if possible. The way she was so good at distancing herself by taking on any case that was preferably complicated
and
adult.