I spin back and Davey and I make a beeline for the woman who’s trying to open her door.
“About time! What if that thing had hit my car?”
“Then you’d be safe, ma’am, but we would not,” I offer.
She rolls her eyes, giving me an incredulous look.
When we reach the door, I slide a hand in, double-checking the lock is disengaged. It is, and still the door doesn’t budge. “Halligan bar, Davey.”
He hesitates, his gaze finding mine. “Thanks, London.”
I nod. “Bar, yeah?”
He hauls in a breath and rushes back to the engine. A moment passes, and the Halligan slides between the door and the car body, and he applies backward pressure. The door groans before eventually giving way.
I check the lady over before helping her free of the vehicle. “Can you walk to the engine? The ambulance will be here any second.”
When she gets closer to 53, she shakes me off and sits on the curb.
Huh. That’s gratitude for you.
Schmiddy takes up his position, leaning against 53,supervising.
I shake my head.
The street is fast filling up with traffic and bystanders, and the ambulance blasts its horn. The street moves and the ambulance weaves through the obstructions.
Will people ever understand the part they play in obstructing the very thing they’re screaming for?
“Tennison!” Hammond calls, and I move toward the sound of his voice automatically. Schmiddy has commandeered Davey, and they’re extracting another carful of passengers.
Hammond stands by the truck, the driver now doubled over the steering wheel.
“Get a gurney and medics over here. This one will deteriorate rapidly.” Hammond opens the driver’s door.
I rush back to the first ambulance.
“We need you over at the semi,” I say.
The woman from the first car stands, wobbling her way over. “No way, I was here first!”
“Ma’am, please return to the curb,” I say.
“Fuck you. First you disobey orders and now you’re giving the guy who caused this shit show preference. This unit is mine.”
A medic steps between us. “I understand you’re upset, but we triage each person on scene. The captain running the scene has triaged the order of critical patients.”
She screws her face up.
With a half smile, the medic heads for the semi, his partner at his back. I return my axe to the engine, not wanting the extra weight on the retrieval, and follow.
Hammond has the guy sitting back up, his seatbelt retracted, before I get into position. A medic hands him a neck brace, and he secures it around the man’s neck, double-checking his pulse
As Miles lowers the guy sideways, swinging his legs to prevent bending his spine, I take up the man’s shoulders and brace myself for the weight.
He’s not a small man, and I concentrate on my stance, my breathing. Slowly, like molasses in winter in the Auckland hills, we slide the guy from the seat.
My arms ache.
