“All right, then everyone suit up, and let’s bag him-”
The radio crackled. “Sir, civilian approaching.”
Out of reflex, Sims looked over at the other helicopter. “What?”
“Just ahead, sir,” the man in the other aircraft said. “A Jeep. There are also a couple people standing on one of the buildings at the roadside stop along the highway, looking this way, and several more doing the same from ground level.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, sir.”
Sims looked out the open doorway and spotted the Jeep. He quickly realized it would get to the motorcycle rider only seconds after they landed. What would they do then? Kill the Jeep driver, too? What about the people in town watching? He was pretty sure Mr. Shell did not want that kind of bloodbath.
He looked down at the motorcyclist again, then tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Head back to base.”
Even before they made the turn for home, he had his satellite phone out. The quarantine zone would have to be expanded to include that little bit of nowhere in case the motorcyclist was infected. But even if he wasn’t, and those in the town didn’t actually die from the disease, the quarantine would make it easier for Sims and his men to go in and deal with the witnesses.
It was an aggravating problem but fixable.
It didn’t even dawn on him that he should have also requested a communications blackout of the area. He thought that was already a part of the quarantine. Why wouldn’t it be?
It was another lesson they’d learn for next time.
• • •
Paul remembered flying off his bike, but didn’t remember landing. That was because the impact had knocked him unconscious. So the next thing he was aware of was a man lifting him off the ground.
“What…what’s going on?”
“Just relax,” the guy said. “You’re going to be fine.”
Where had the guy come from? The helicopter? But they were going to shoot him, weren’t they?
Then he saw the vehicle he was being carried to, a dark red, old-model Jeep, not a helicopter.
Someone passing by on the road, maybe? Did it really matter?
As the man helped him into the front seat, Paul knocked his injured knee against the dash, which caused him to wince in pain, which in turn caused him to cough a couple of times.
“Sorry,” the guy said.
“I’m…okay.”
The man got behind the wheel and started up the Jeep. As they turned around, Paul caught sight of his motorcycle. It was lying half in a creosote bush, its handlebars skewed. He could see a hole in his gas tank, but nothing was dripping out.
32
Martina and Jilly climbed down off the roof as the Jeep returned. By then, many of the rest of the people stranded in Cryer’s Corner had come outside to see what all the noise was about. Word of what had happened spread quickly.
When the Jeep pulled to a stop, several people crowded around. The guy who’d been on the motorcycle was a mess. He looked like he’d been rolling in dirt for weeks, then had the side of his head dipped in blood.
There was something familiar about him, but Martina couldn’t place it. This thought, though, was soon forgotten as the cute college boy came around and helped the motorcycle rider out of the Jeep.
“I don’t suppose anyone here’s a doctor?” College Boy asked.
“My dad is,” Amy Rhodes said.
“Yeah, but he’s not here, is he?” Jilly asked.
“Isn’t Coach Delger a nurse?” someone asked.
“Yeah, I think she is,” Martina said. “Where is she?”
“Last I saw her, she was in the cafe,” Amy told them, no doubt trying to redeem herself.
When no one moved right away, Martina said, “I’ll get her.”
She raced over to the cafe and rushed inside. There were only three people there-an old woman behind the counter, and Coach Driscoll and Coach Delger in one of the booths. The coaches both had their backs against the window, with their legs stretched out, and seemed to be asleep.
“Coach Delger?” Martina called out as she ran over.
Both coaches cracked open their eyes.
“What is it, Martina?” Coach Driscoll asked. She was the head coach. Coach Delger was a volunteer from town.
“Someone’s hurt. And we thought…well, Coach Delger, you’re a nurse, right?”
Both of the women sprang to life and pushed themselves out of the booth.
“Where?” Coach Delger asked.
“Outside. Some guy on a motorcycle got thrown to the ground.”
Coach Delger raced ahead and shot out the door.
“Medical student,” Coach Driscoll whispered to Martina as they followed. “Her residency starts after the end of the season.”
“A student? Oh, uh, maybe we should ask around and see if anyone else is a nurse.”
“She’ll do just fine,” Coach Driscoll told her.
As soon as Martina stepped back outside, she saw that the college boy had an arm around the motorcyclist and they were both walking toward the cafe. Coach Delger ran up beside them and took a quick look at the injured rider. She then glanced over at Martina.
“Open the door,” she called out.
Once they were inside, the college boy helped the rider to a corner booth. It was one of those circular kinds that could fit a lot of people and had a correspondingly large table. Coach Delger had the injured kid sit on the table, then told Martina to get everyone else outside.
“You heard her,” Martina announced to the group who’d followed them in. “Everyone out.”
Soon she had the place cleared, but since the coach hadn’t specifically told
She’d barely walked up when Coach Delger said, “Martina, I need you to look for a first-aid kit. There’s got to be one here somewhere.” Before Martina could leave, she added, “And I’ll need some warm water and towels to clean him up, too.”
Martina found the old woman in the kitchen already filling up a large bowl with water.
“I heard her,” the woman said, then nodded toward the back of the room. “First-aid kit’s hanging on the wall by the bathroom. Just lift it and it’ll come right off.”
The kit was a large metal box. Martina got it off the wall and carried it back into the dining area. When she got back to the table, the coach was examining the rider’s head where all the blood was.
“Not too bad,” Coach Delger said. “A cut and a little bump. I’m guessing you were wearing a helmet, right?”
“Yeah,” the boy said.
“Some of the cushion missing on the inside?”
“A little.”
Smirking, she said, “Get a new helmet and that won’t happen next time.”
The old woman came out of the kitchen with the water and some towels.
“Susan,” Coach Delger said to Coach Driscoll. “Can you clean up his head? I’m going to check if there’s anything else wrong.”
