Around them, other people from the train gathered as if her bandaging up Zar was a beacon in the night. Some sat or lay down on the floor while others wandered, confused, looking up and down the tunnel as if expecting help to arrive.
“You’re good for now,” Anna told Zar, squeezing his arm. “But keep an eye on it for infection.”
Jean Paul shrugged out of his suit jacket and handed it to Zar.
“Thank you,” Zar said. “But I think watching for infection will have to be your job, Anna.” He put on the jacket and got to his feet.
A couple of train employees were trying to round everyone up while another was on their cell phone.
Anna grabbed her backpack and stethoscope then scanned the crowd, mentally triaging the injured and their injuries. Lacerations, broken bones, and burns were just the ones she could see of the people who’d managed to get here on their own or with minimal help. There would be many more who were unable to move on their own with internal and crush injuries.
Her stomach cramped hard. She was only one person, and her poor little first-aid kit would never be enough.