The injured lay everywhere: cops, civilians, gunmen. The family who’d been sitting next to us outside the cafe must have tried to make a run for it, because the father was bleeding from his chest, the mother from her arm. People inside the cafe were screaming, begging for help, one woman stretched out on the counter as a man tried to stop her bleeding.
Earl lay on the ground, the front of his uniform soaked in blood. Lloyd was kneeling next to him, tears running down his cheeks. The gunman in the tan jacket was rolling on the ground next to the burning car in agony, his hands over his eyes.
And more. So many more. My training kicked in. We needed to declare a major incident, call local hospitals, have them send extra ambulances and doctors—
Then I remembered and my throat closed up. We didn’t have any of that backup. We didn’t even have our normal roster of staff.
I looked around and met Beckett’s eyes. Then Taylor’s.
All we had was the three of us.
I took a deep breath and we ran into the chaos.
39
Amy
THIS CAN’T be real. The town I knew so well was barely recognizable. With every step, my sneakers crunched broken glass and kicked tinkling shell casings. Everywhere I looked, another person lay bleeding, the snow stained red around them. And the ones out here were only the beginning. The store fronts were gaping black maws lined with jagged teeth. I couldn’t see who was screaming inside and part of me didn’t want to.
We stopped next to Taylor, who looked as shell-shocked as me. “I just….” Her face was as pale as the snow. “I just came out to get coffee—”
Corrigan pulled her into a hug. Even as he patted her back, he was looking around at the injured, deciding priorities. How is he unaffected? I was freaking out.
Then I got a look at his expression. He wasn’t unaffected. He was just used to this sort of horror.
He gave Taylor ten seconds, then gently pushed her back. “I’ll be in there,” he told us, pointing to the cafe. It looked like hell in there: all I could see was the silhouettes of bodies crammed together, people panicking and screaming and struggling to get out.
It made sense: the cafe needed someone who was big enough to push through the crowd, who wouldn’t get trampled. But I didn’t want to be left out here. The ER was bad enough, but this was something else entirely. Twenty or more people were yelling for help. Some of them would die before I could help them. Some of them would die before I could even reach them. I was shaking. I couldn’t stop shaking.
Corrigan took hold of my shoulders. “Amy. You’ll be okay.”
I shook my head, gazing around me in disbelief. People I knew, dying. Stores I visited every day, destroyed. “I—” I choked helplessly. My head went light.
“Beckett,” he snapped.
I came back to him.
He looked deep into my eyes. “You can do this,” he told me. There was absolutely no doubt in his voice. “You’re just scared. It’s okay to be scared. But you can do this.”
My heart was still hammering so hard it was painful but his words unfroze me. I drew in a shuddering breath and clung onto those words like a life preserver. Then I nodded.
And he was gone, sprinting off towards the cafe.
I turned around. Everywhere I looked, someone was screaming for help. Who do I help first? Who do I leave to die? I felt the panic rising again.
It’s okay to be scared. You can do this.
Taylor was frozen, too. She stared at me, her eyes huge. I had to get her moving and I couldn’t even get myself moving.
“Earl,” I told her, pointing to the fallen cop. “Help Earl.”
“I’m just a student!” she whispered, tears in her eyes.
I grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Not today.”
Then I ran to the man who’d been sitting with his family, eating breakfast next to us. He was on his back, hands clutched to a wound on his chest. His wife was sprawled next to him, bleeding from her arm, trying to comfort her kids. When I checked over my shoulder, Taylor was still standing there...but then she nodded to me and ran to Earl.
I fell to my knees beside the man. Blood was pumping between his fingers. It was so bitterly cold, I could see steam rising from the wound. “It’s okay,” I said out loud. “I’m a doctor.”
The woman touched my arm in thanks. She’d thought I’d been reassuring them.
I tore away the man’s shirt and reached for—
I blinked. What the hell am I going to use? I didn’t even have a first aid kit with me!
I pressed on the wound while I thought. The bleeding barely slowed.
“Is he going to be okay?” sobbed the wife. The children were crying too. I was a hair’s breadth from joining them.