“What’s the plan, sir?” Naylor asked in a hushed voice, the three remaining officers – now Dicky had returned to the tunnel – still standing several feet away from the trapped victims. “Do you think we can get them out?”
“We have to,” Walter replied firmly, “that’s what we’re here for. Give them some water,” he instructed Naylor, aware of the increasing temperature in the subway tunnel and feeling rather uncomfortable himself because of it. “Harris – I want you to get up onto the roof and see if you can open that access hatch above them. Hoisting them up might be the simplest option.”
“Yes sir.”
“Do any of you have any wiggle room at all?” Walter asked as Naylor handed out bottled water and Harris slipped out into the tunnel. “You ma’am – could I get your name please? Actually, all of your names would help.”
“Come on pal!” The panicked man burst out in frustration, slamming his balled fist into the side of the car and creating a loud bang. “Just get us out, who gives a rat’s ass what our names are.”
“Sir, I’d rather you didn’t do that,” Walter replied. “We’re balancing on the edge of the tracks here and we don’t know how secure these tunnels are if at all. We’re doing everything we can to help you, but we need you to cooperate as well.”
“Idiot,” the younger woman sneered, opening her mouth for the first time. “I’m Allie. Uninjured but getting pretty uncomfortable. My ankle is trapped between the seats I think.”
“We’ll get you out of here, Allie,” Naylor smiled at her as he stood beside her, taking an instant liking to the young, blond woman. “You can count on me.”
Walter struggled to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the other woman spoke up, introducing herself as Phoebe and the man reluctantly barking out the name John as she nudged him in the side.
“I think her name is Maja,” Phoebe offered in reference to the foreign woman at the other end of the line. “She hardly speaks any English though.”
“Sir?” Harris’ voice came from the door of the carriage, turning everyone’s attention back to him. “I need a hand.”
“Go,” Walter nodded to Naylor, stepping to the side so Naylor could move past him. “Right, listen up –” he addressed the victims sternly now, using his no-nonsense voice that was retained for these sorts of situations. “We’re going to try and get the hatch above your heads open,” he explained, causing Phoebe, Allie and John to all look up in unison, none of them even noticing the emergency exit before. “And then we’re going to try and hoist each of you out. Who is physically trapped? And who thinks they can be pulled free with a bit of help from above?”
“I don’t think I can move,” Allie replied in a straightforward manner. “My ankle is caught I think.”
“I can, I think,” Phoebe replied. “I’m just worried about my baby.”
“Maja?” Walter tried to address the foreign woman, “Maja, do you understand me? Can you move?” His attempts at conversation were useless, the woman only increasing the volume of her mumbling but offering nothing useful in response to the Lieutenant.
“And we’re in!”
Walter and everyone else looked upwards as the clatter of the roof hatch filled the subway car and both Naylor and Harris’ faces appeared above them. Illuminated by their torches against the top of the tunnel, they cut an eerie sight in the darkness, looming above the ruined carriage like angels looking down on them. Walter hoped this was a good omen and that they could get all the victims to safety, his silent worry increasing each minute the unnamed man remained unconscious and John and the others complained about their lack of mobility.
“Okay Phoebe,” Walter smiled at the pregnant woman, recognizing the nervous expression on her face as she realized what was about to happen. “Are you ready for this?”
Phoebe looked upwards and swallowed, her nerves getting the better of her as a sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. She opened her mouth to answer back when the sound of footsteps started to echo down the subway tunnel and bounce around the car, distracting everyone. Shouts rang out to the group as well, Phoebe recognizing one voice above the rest.
“Mom!”
All of a sudden, Dicky arrived back at the wrecked carriage, a twelve-year-old boy with short, dark hair appearing just ahead of him. He ran past Walter without even acknowledging the man was there and threw himself onto Phoebe, wrapping his small arms around his mother despite the situation she was in and what was going on around them both.
Walter looked back at Dicky who gave him a brief nod, his concentration more focused on the reunion between Phoebe and her child. It was a touching moment: Phoebe previously sending her son away as she wondered whether help would ever come to rescue her and those trapped alongside her. Now they had a real chance of getting out and being a family unit once more and that realization could be seen clear as day on Phoebe’s face. She kissed her son on the forehead and made him step backwards a couple of paces, looking upwards at Naylor and Harris who still hovered above her.
“Alright,” she declared with a firm nod, lifting her arms upwards above her head and holding her hands out to the two officers. “What do you need me to do?”
