Page 10 of North

“I’ll get help.” She returned to James, who was finishing up with the mom. The little girl next to her seemed scraped up but wasn’t bleeding. Selah pointed to the man. “We need to get him to a hospital, right now. I think he might have internal bleeding or a collapsed lung. I don’t know—but he can’t breathe.”

“Grant?” The woman started toward him.

Selah put a hand to her mouth, not sure⁠—

James touched her shoulder. “I’ll get help. Stay with them.”

“But we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Trust me. I promise I’ll be back.” He got up, running again toward the space between the dining cars. Maybe the road lay on the other side.

Selah pulled out her phone, but the shattered screen remained dark. Dead.

The little girl had gone to sit by her mother, who knelt by Grant, sobbing.

Selah headed back to the waiter. He lay on the ground, clearly in pain. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. She spotted a few other patrons from the dining car, a number of them not moving.

“What’s your name?”

“David,” the man said.

“I’m Selah Silver.” She found a napkin nearby and pressed it to his head.

He was mumbling. “See America, she said. It’ll be fun, she said.”

“Who’s she?”

He glanced over at her. “My mom. I wanted to get a job mowing lawns.”

“You’re going to see Mom again, I promise. You can mow her lawn.”

He managed a slight smile.

She got back up and headed over to Grant and his family. Crouched by the woman.

“He’s still breathing,” the woman said quietly and met Selah’s eyes.

Please, James, hurry up. “What’s your name?”

“Sarah Hendrickson. And this is Amy.” She glanced to her son, who’d joined them. “And Tommy.”

“We met.”

“We’re on the way to visit Grant’s parents. They were supposed to meet us at the Leavenworth station.”

Another burst of gunfire. Closer. Sarah pulled Amy tighter against her good side.

“I’m going to check the road,” Selah said. “Stay here.”

She climbed up the embankment, legs shaking. At the top, she spotted—what on earth? An old blue pickup truck bounced along the gravel road that paralleled the track, heading toward her from the front of the train. James stuck his arm out the window, waving. He pulled up beside her.

“The track’s blocked ahead,” he said. “But I think if we follow this, we’ll track back to that little town we passed. My guess is they have an Urgent Care.”

“Hopefully more than that, but okay. How did you⁠—”

“Local farmer let me borrow his truck.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We need to move. Now.”

Something in his tone—urgent but controlled—sent a chill down her spine. “The shooting⁠—”