Then shouts and orders for evacuation zipped around them. He couldn't afford mind-numbing fear for the woman beneath him. He had to get her out. Fast. Gray hauled himself off Lori.
"To the plane," he barked. "Now!"
He yanked her up, trying to pry Magda from her arms. Spindly arms and legs held tight.
Lori shoved his shoulder. "Just go! I can carry her." With a terse nod, Gray grabbed Lori's hand. He called on his training to overcome emotions that could dull his reactions. He bolted forward. They followed loadmasters herding clusters of children out the door. Local officials darted through the crowd, scooping up children.
Sunlight and carbon-tinged air assaulted his senses. A distant explosion plumed smoke. Damn, why hadn't he pushed to leave sooner?
He checked left, right and sprinted, Lori's hand locked in his. A few more feet to the cargo plane.
Whump, sounded just beyond the trees. Mortar fire launched.
Lori's soft hand felt too mortal in his.
Her fingers jerked free.
Panic popped through Gray like a semiautomatic. He spun to find her darting away.
Toward a weaving toddler heading for the trees. Mortar rounds shattered the asphalt inches from her feet. She stumbled, righted herself and plowed forward, her body curved protectively around Magda.
Fury and fear discharged within him. "Lori!"
She didn't hear, or chose to ignore him, damned reckless, selfless woman.
He dodged left, putting his body between her and the spewing rounds. His boots pounded pavement in time with his heart. His left calf stung. Pain spread into a flame he had to ignore for now. He ran faster, frustration clawing through him.
She scooped up the child, balancing one orphan on each hip. Already her eyes scanned the cracked runway as if searching for someone else to save. Did she intend to carry them on her back?
Gray skidded to a stop beside her. He whipped the extra kid from her arms. He crowded behind her, nudging, urging, shielding her back with his body. "Go! Go! Go!"
"Wait!" She pointed across the runway at another group of children. "They need—"
"Damn it, woman! They're fine. Tag's got 'em. Now move!" he shouted over the mayhem. Hours of restraint expanded within him as he raced a serpentine path. The percussion from another blast slammed Lori back against his chest. She staggered, paused.>Only he would notice the hitch in her breathing—and wished like hell he didn't know her well enough to understand its significance.
Meanwhile, his patients had to be his priority, and that included ignoring the wisp of hair sneaking free from Lori's braid to caress her brow.
Gray opened the next file. "Okay, kiddo."
As he'd done in the plane, Gray escaped into the reliable routine of his job. He evaluated one child at a time, not a chart or a case, but a person. Nikola, Antonije, Goran, Vasiliji, Jelena, each the complete focus of Gray's attention for his or her ten minutes while he checked vitals, cleansed and bandaged cuts, assessed broken teeth, ground his own teeth at the sight of a partially healed gunshot wound on an eight-year-old.
Gray passed off a chart and stretched his shoulders, glancing at his watch as his arm arced up. An hour and a half until takeoff. The walls rattled with another burst of gunfire—and something else. A grenade? Or a land mine? Did they sound closer or were his heightened senses exaggerating?
Lori didn't flinch, but her complexion downgraded from ivory to milky. Noise inside the hangar waned for five heart-stopping seconds, then resumed. Gray glanced around the warehouse and caught the commander's attention two tables over. "Can we step up the pace, Colonel?"
Lt. Col. Zach Dawson's tense nod wasn't reassuring, but Gray had been through worse. Just not with seventy-two children and Lori depending on him.
The next child shuffled forward, clinging to the hand of a soft-figured orphanage worker in a dulled-out white uniform. Gray spun his chair to face her fully and found a little girl, around three or four. Sprigs of hacked, dark hair damp with sweat curled along her round face. With those cropped locks, she'd probably been deloused. Poor kid.
A harsh cough rumbled from the tiny chest as she tucked behind the woman's long skirt. Gray looked up at Lori. He knew when he was out of his league.
She crouched in front of the girl. "Hello—" slowly Lori reached to tap the name tag "—Magda."
Dirty little fists eased their grip on the dress. One wide, dark eye peeked warily, her cough dwindling to a raspy sigh. Lori kept her hand extended and steady.
The older woman mumbled a few words in another language, pried her skirt free and nudged Magda forward. If only they had more time to ease this kid through the exam. But they didn't. Gray stifled the rush of frustration over things he couldn't change.
Lori extended her other hand to the girl. A look of resignation crossed the tiny face. Magda dropped her arms to her sides and waited, helpless.