Page 22 of Wandering Souls

“Ray?”

“I met her when she rescued Bruce after he’d run off. She’s lovely.”

“And what might she have to do with me?”

He sucked in a deep breath to fortify his nerves. “Does the name Abigail Winter mean anything to you?”

Chapter Five

The emergency wardat the hospital serving Wills Crossing was busy for ten-thirty in the morning. Half a dozen middle-aged men and women in cycling gear milled about with various injuries. One man sat in bright green spandex with his entire left arm and leg wrapped in bandages while blood trickled from a gash on his forehead. A woman beside him held an ice pack to her knee. Another cyclist used his left arm to support his right arm close to his chest. All of them looked dazed and confused, their wide, glassy eyes staring straight through Abi with vacant stares.

Another woman nursed a sleeping child who had bright red cheeks and a sweaty brow, while a toddler curled up on the chair next to them, holding her hands over her ears. Silent tears ran down the little girl’s face. Her big, round eyes followed Abi.

The chaos was complete when a man in coveralls burst into the waiting area holding his hand wrapped in makeshift bandages soaked in blood. Rivulets of the red body fluid poured down his arm and panic filled his eyes. His gaze darted around the space, searching for someone to help, while the young man accompanying him, also dressed in coveralls, tried to comfort. Abi spied the plastic bag that held three severed fingers and felt her stomach drop.

An older, gray-haired doctor in a white coat swept into the room, cast his eyes over the mayhem and promptly saw to the amputee. He caught the attention of a nurse and ordered her to prep the theatre, though Abi wondered whether a small town medical facility like this was equipped to carry out surgical reattachment, let alone deal with this many casualties at once.

Colt Manning entered the waiting room and glanced around. Dressed in camouflage-style chinos and a white lab coat, he wore a stethoscope around his neck and looked ready for duty. He gave her a nod and a smile before joining his colleague attending to the worker.

“Call Stevie, she’ll have these sewn back on in no time.”

The first doctor, older by a decade, scowled. “Stevie McQueen does not work in my hospital.”

Colt smiled and patted the other doctor’s shoulder. “Not full time but if I had my way, she would. She’s an excellent trauma surgeon and right now,” he nodded toward the crowd, “you need her on deck. Call her.”

The other doctor huffed indignantly before nodding at the reception desk. “Do as he says and make the call.” To Colt, he shook his head. “You and yourfriendswill be the death of me.”

Colt only laughed as a nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. The worker practically fell into it while his young companion set the bag of digits in a cooler provided. They disappeared through swinging doors, leaving Colt to contend with the injured cyclists and the mother and her children.

“I’ll be with you soon,” he assured Abi.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe I should come back? You look a little busy.”

He laughed heartily and shook his head. “Thisisn’t busy. Take a seat and let me get these people seen to.”

Abi glanced around the room and found a seat along the back wall, away from the hustle and bustle. She watched nurses and orderlies come and go, taking cyclists through to the treatment area one at a time. A third doctor, much younger that either Colt or his colleague, appeared to take care of the child covering her ears. She found their swift actions comforting, knowing that anyone who came to this hospital would be well taken care of in their moment of need.

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