Page 20 of Healing Hazel

Dr. Laurent returned, reporting to Dr. Jackson in a grim voice that most of the Carlists had retreated farther into the mountains but that he and his group had treated those they were able to. Those with serious injuries were stabilized and moved to the ambulance wagons for further care.

“Take them back to the hospital,” Dr. Jackson said. “We will follow soon.” He glanced beyond the church at the more damaged part of the town.

Dr. Laurent departed, taking his larger group with him.

Hazel remained with Dr. Jackson’s small team and continued with her duties, wetting a cloth in the fountain and using it to clean dried blood from an old woman’s forehead.

Dr. Jackson knelt beside her. He looked into each of the woman’s eyes but apparently did not see any reason for alarm. He patted Hazel’s shoulder and moved on to talk to the priest.

The touch reassured her, and she felt through the simple gesture that not only was he pleased with her work but he considered her a part of his team.

A few moments later, once the patients in the town square had been tended to, he called the team together and led them up one of the curving roads behind the church.

Hazel looked in the other direction, toward the ambulance wagons. Where was he leading them? Into the mountains? Surely not. Perhaps he was simply turned around. She quickened her pace to walk beside him. “Shouldn’t we be returning to the hospital?”

Dr. Jackson glanced at her. “Most of the men in town have either died or fled from the army,” he said. “Those remaining are searching among the rubble. Before we leave, I want to ensure we haven’t missed anyone; any survivors they locate will need medical care.”

And they would need it quickly. Hazel nodded her understanding. Anyone who had still not been found by now would have been buried or trapped for hours.

They came to the part of town where some of the buildings had been completely destroyed, their bricks spilling over the road. Here and there, a piece of furniture lay among the wreckage. Papers fluttered past. Hazel saw a ceramic vase—somehow unbroken—and imagined that it had once sat upon a shelf or table. Clothing, books, tools, toys—treasured possessions were strewn about, and the townspeople picked through them with a hopelessness that made their bodies sag. The air smelled like smoke and dust. A group of elderly men directed a search effort that was made up of mainly women and children. On the flat floor of a house without walls lay a row of bodies covered with blankets. As Hazel looked around at what had once been a lovely street of houses, all she could see was destruction.

“Stay away from the buildings,” Dr. Jackson said to the group. “Even those that look stable. The damage may not be outwardly apparent, and they could come down at any time.” He repeated the words in Spanish.

The team spread out. Hazel knelt beside a small boy who was sitting on a chair in a front garden. He held a cooking pot. She looked him over. Aside from a covering of dust, he appeared unharmed—physically, at least. “Hola,” she said.

The boy looked at her curiously.

Hearing footsteps crunching on gravel, they both turned and saw Camila approach. “Kaixo,” she said to the boy, crouching beside Hazel.

He replied, and they spoke for a moment. Hazel realized he must not speak Spanish at all, but Basque, and she felt a surge of frustration at her inability to communicate.

Camila stood. She patted the boy’s head and nodded to Hazel, indicating that the boy was all right.

The women continued together, stepping around piles of rock and over wooden beams.

It appeared the search for survivors was nearly concluded. The town was small, and most of the people were returning to what appeared to be their homes—or what remained of them. The priest was talking to a small group of women, placing a comforting hand on the shoulder of one who wept. Another woman held a framed photograph to her chest.

Dr. Jackson motioned for the nurses and they started in his direction, but hearing a noise, Hazel paused. It sounded like a cat. She turned, trying to discover from where the sound had come.

Camila paused as well. She pointed toward a dark space beneath where a wall had toppled against a neighboring building and remained, leaning at an odd angle. “Allí!” The space was apparently an alleyway between the buildings, but now it was filled with broken chunks of plaster and stone. The late afternoon made the shadows in the alleyway deeper. Hazel and Camila stepped closer and heard the noise again, but it sounded more like a whimper. Something moved among the rubble.

“Dr. Jackson,” Hazel called, waving her hands in the air. “Someone is here.” She and Camila hurried to the alleyway’s opening, crouching down to peer inside. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she saw that a person lay there, trapped beneath pieces of broken wall. She and Camila moved quickly forward and found it to be a woman.

“Kaixo,” Hazel said, kneeling beside the woman. “You’re safe now.”

The woman lay on her back and had pushed her shoulders off the ground, but that was as far as she was able to move. Her torso and legs were stuck. “Eskerrik asko,” she whispered, clinging to Hazel’s hand.

“Gracias.” Camila translated her words for Hazel.

Hazel swept the dark hair off the woman’s face. The kerchief she’d apparently been wearing on her head had fallen to the ground. Sweat and dirt were stuck to her skin. “Rest now. Don’t worry anymore. You’re safe.” Hazel picked up the kerchief, certain the woman wouldn’t want it lying in the dirt. She ran her finger along the simple embroidery at the kerchief’s edge, then folded it and put it into her pocket.

The woman’s eyes rolled back, but she didn’t loosen her hold on Hazel’s hand. She kept muttering, but Hazel couldn’t understand her words. She was certain the woman was in excruciating pain, and she was very likely delirious.

Camila moved out of the alley as the men came in to lift away the rocks, giving them room to work.

Hazel started to get to her feet, ready to move as well, but Dr. Jackson shook his head, motioning with his hand out that she should remain where she was. “Keep her calm,” he said.

She turned back to the woman. “We will get you out of here, and Dr. Jackson will know just what to do.” Hazel spoke in a comforting voice, knowing the woman couldn’t understand her but hoping she would recognize the tone of her voice.

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