Page 7 of Healing Hazel

Relief made Hazel’s knees weak. Help had arrived at last.

Chapter 2

Dr. Jim Jackson surveyed thescene as the ambulance wagon approached. Some sort of explosive had opened a wide crater, throwing two cars clear of the track and dislodging the others. The entire locomotive must have crashed to an immediate halt, sending people and objects flying.

“Looks like dynamite.” Dr. Laurent craned his neck, trying to get a better view of the damage. The sunlight through the trees made patterns on his bald head and spectacles. “Zhey are lucky it did not explode beneath zhe boiler.”

“There will still be plenty of burns from the explosion itself.” Jim smelled smoke in the air. He squinted, trying to assess the damage. The hours since the incident had dispersed the initial panic, but that didn’t mean hysteria wouldn’t arise again. Pain and seeing loved ones suffer could cause people to behave irrationally. Grabbing his medical kit, he jumped out of the wagon before it even came to a stop, directing the drivers toward a flat area where they could more easily load the injured.

The other nurses and orderlies climbed from the wagons, grabbed their kits, and joined him, waiting for his direction.

Jim scanned the scene, noticing that some of the injuries appeared to have been bandaged.

“It appears someone has administered emergency treatment, no?” Dr. Laurent said.

“Appears so,” Jim said. He turned to the group of medical personnel. “You know what to do. Prioritize. Some injuries can wait. And some of the wounded cannot be saved. Give your resources and time to those who need it now. They are your priority.”

Dr. Laurent repeated in Spanish everything Jim had said, and the head nurse, Lucía, repeated everything once more in Basque. Then the medical team spread out, each of the doctors taking with him a pair of orderlies and a nurse.

They split into teams, and Jim and Dr. Laurent started toward the crater.

“Hola, senors.”

Jim turned and saw a young woman hurrying toward him from a shady area beneath the trees. Her hair and skin were fair, her eyes a pale blue-gray. There was blood on her skirts, and one hand was bound with a bloody handkerchief. Her hair had come loose from its pins and hung down in a braid over her shoulder. The dress she wore looked ridiculous for the situation, with its layers of skirts. Ribbons and ruffles weren’t practical in the least trying circumstances, but here, they could only be an impediment.

“Are you doctors?” She spoke slowly, pointing to the band on his arm and looking between him and Dr. Laurent. Everything about the young lady was soft—her voice, her mannerisms, her coloring. Jim was surprised to hear her speaking English.

“Yes, ma’am. I am Dr. Jim Jackson, and this is Dr. Claude Laurent.”

Relief shone on her face as Dr. Laurent inclined his head. “Oh, you speak English. Thank goodness.” She started toward the trees, the hem of her dress dragging through the dirt. “My friends are hurt. Captain Bryant still hasn’t woken, and Nella’s ankle may be broken. They both need medical care right away.”

Perhaps it was the surprise of finding a young British lady among the wreckage of a Spanish Civil War bombing, or perhaps it was just because she’d assumed they would accompany her, but regardless of the reasoning, Jim and Dr. Laurent followed.

As soon as they came near the tree line, people rushed toward them or cried out, each competing for the doctors’ attention. The orderlies and nurses settled the crowd, and Dr. Laurent reassured the patients in a loud voice that they’d all be tended to, but Jim gave little notice. His entire attention was directed at the young uniformed soldier lying on the ground.

The scene around them faded. Jim stood again on the Gettysburg battlefield with the smell of cannon smoke still thick in the air. Dying horses screamed. Around him soldiers moaned and called out in pain. Most were unnaturally still. Many were his friends. But there was only one he searched for. And when he at last found him, it was too late.

“The bleeding’s stopped, but he still hasn’t woken.” The young woman’s voice pulled Jim from his memory.

He glanced at her and knelt beside the soldier, feeling his neck for a pulse. The beat against his fingertips was weak but steady. A scarf was bound around the man’s head, holding in place folded napkins soaked with blood. Jim lifted the makeshift bandage. The wound was deep, but the soldier’s skull didn’t appear to have suffered any damage. Bruising had started around the laceration, however. He pulled back an eyelid and the pupil constricted in the sunlight. A good sign. The man’s brain still functioned.

“He has been unconscious for how long?”

“Hours,” the young woman said. “But I don’t know exactly what time...” She glanced toward the train.

Three hours at least, Jim thought, based on how long it had taken for a message to reach the hospital and the time it had taken the medical team to travel to the scene. For the soldier to be unconscious for so long... it was worrying. Brain damage was very likely. Jim motioned for the orderlies to take the soldier to the ambulance wagon.

Dr. Laurent knelt beside a middle-aged woman, inspecting her ankle.

The young lady joined him, adjusting her skirts so she could kneel on the woman’s other side and take her hand. “I believe it’s fractured,” she said.

Apparently, the young woman is a doctor.Jim frowned, but Dr. Laurent nodded to the young lady. “Correct.” He motioned for a couple of orderlies. “She may need surgery. And her fever... zhis is very troubling.”

Jim turned away, examining a slash on a man’s shoulder.

Once a nurse cleaned the man’s wound, Jim threaded his needle and started stitching. He watched Dr. Laurent and the young lady from the corner of his eye, wondering if she intended to insert herself into the examination of every patient. The assistance of an untrained person would only slow down tasks that were already hours behind.

Jim gazed around the wreckage. The nurses were already sorting patients, and a steady stream was going to the hospital wagons.

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