“Triage,” I said, and they quickly wheeled her inside.
The little boy in the backseat with the girl was cradling his right arm and had a gash on his head that someone had quickly wrapped with gauze.
I checked his pupils. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Bobby,” he said.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“That stupid truck wrecked us.” The anger in his tone boded well, to me.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven next month.”
“How hard did you hit your head when the bus wrecked?”
“I didn’t. I was wearing a seat belt. I did this getting out after the wreck because I tripped. That’s when I hurt my arm, too.”
Okay, he likely didn’t have a concussion, so I loaded him on the gurney and sent him inside as yet another MFWP SUV rolled in, almost immediately followed by an ambulance. I didn’t even have time to talk to Lilah because she raced back out again and I was dealing with patients.
Ten hours later, I was dead on my feet but only one of the kids had died, and they’d had underlying medical issues contributing to that. Four more were critical but stable, and overhalf of them had already been released to their parents, the rest staying overnight for observation.
I was afraid to sit down for fear I wouldn’t be able to stand up again when Lilah walked into the staff lounge just off the ED with a box of donuts and another box of bagels and fixings, plus a large box of coffee.
“A gift from Paul’s Coffeeshop,” she said as she set them down before she walked over to hug me. “You didn’t go shopping, by the way.”
But the way she said it, and the playful look in her hazel eyes, was just the thing I needed to start laughing as she held me, rocking me.
“Can you go home yet?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I need to go upstairs and check on a couple of patients. What time is it, anyway?”
She glanced at her watch. “Over twenty-four hours since you made the damned shopping list,DoctorColefield.”
I snorted again. “Sorry,OfficerMcGuire.”
This was our routine, a stress-relieving comfort, assuring each other.
Snarky meant okay and not dying.
As okay as one could be after dealing with a mass-casualty incident involving kids, although I knew Lilah had dealt with far worse since she’d been one of the first responders to the scene.
“Well, I’ll forgive you this time,” she said. “Text me the list and I’ll do it. Oh, and we have a guest for dinner.”
“We do?”
“Yes. For you, not me.” She smirked. “He’s got a thing for doctors. Try to take a nap. He’ll be over at 8:00, and I’m cooking.”
I blinked, stunned as she sauntered out. If she’d invited him over for dinner, she must have a strong positive feeling about him, because she rarely did that.
Hell, we rarely had anyone but close friends over to the house. Neither of us felt comfortable with people in our personal space whom we didn’t know very well.
Well, shit.
Jack
“How you doing, Hesten?” the captain asked.
