The younger rider answered instantly.
“Hydraulic spreader, cutting saw, stabilization straps.”
“Jonah, can you operate the winch with that knee?”
“I can operate it better than anyone here.”
“Mae, how much rope?”
“Two hundred feet.”
Camille picked up her medical bag.
“Lorna, keep Theo inside.”
Theo grabbed her coat.
“No.”
She knelt in front of him.
“I have to help.”
“You just got here.”
“I know.”
“You said you would come for me.”
“I did.”
“No, you came and now you’re leaving again.”
Pain crossed Camille’s face.
Elias crouched beside them.
“Your mother isn’t leaving you.”
Theo looked at him angrily.
“You don’t know that.”
Elias accepted the accusation without flinching.
“You’re right. But I know she never walks away from someone who needs her.”
Camille looked at Elias.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Theo’s fingers loosened around her coat.
“Will you come back?”
Camille pressed her forehead against his.
“Always.”
Outside, the storm struck them like a wall.
The riders moved with practiced efficiency.
Tool cases were secured to two motorcycles. Rope was strapped to Mae’s pack. Jonah climbed into a support truck parked behind the café. Elias handed Camille a spare helmet.
She stared at it.
“You still carry extras?”
“We learned to.”
Camille climbed into the passenger seat of the truck instead.
Elias joined Jonah in the front. Mae, Rourke, Ben, and Solomon rode behind them, their headlights cutting narrow tunnels through the rain.
Old Quarry Road wound above the ocean.
Mud streamed across the asphalt. Fallen branches cracked beneath the truck’s tires. On one side stood a wall of wet stone. On the other, the ground disappeared toward the rocks below.
The overturned vehicle lay beyond a sharp bend.
It was a delivery van resting against a cluster of young cedar trees. The front end had collapsed. Smoke rose from beneath the hood.
A teenage girl stood in the road, waving both arms.
“My father’s inside!”
Camille was out of the truck before it stopped moving.
“What’s your name?”
“Sadie.”
“Are you hurt?”
“My shoulder, but I can move. My dad can’t get out.”
Camille touched the girl’s neck, checked her breathing, and examined her pupils.
“Stay beside Mae. Do exactly what she says.”
She approached the van.
The driver was conscious but pinned behind the steering column. Blood covered one side of his face.
“Sir, my name is Camille. I’m a nurse. Can you tell me your name?”
“Martin.”
“Good. Keep looking at me, Martin.”
“I can’t feel my left leg.”
“We’re going to get you out.”
Smoke thickened near the engine.
Ben examined the front of the van.
“Battery cable is crushed under the frame.”
Solomon aimed a fire extinguisher toward the hood.
Jonah positioned the truck uphill and unspooled the winch.
The vehicle shifted.
A cedar trunk cracked beneath it.
Everyone heard the sound.
Mae looked over the edge.
“If that tree gives way, the van goes another forty feet.”
Camille leaned through the broken passenger window.
Martin’s face had turned gray.
“Stay awake.”
“My daughter?”
“She’s safe.”
“Promise?”
Camille looked toward Sadie, who stood wrapped in Mae’s riding jacket.
“I promise.”
Elias knelt beside Camille.
“What do you need?”
“Stabilize the van. Then open the driver’s side without twisting the frame. He may have spinal damage.”
Elias nodded.
He did not question her.
He did not hesitate.
He simply turned and began giving orders.
The riders anchored the van to the support truck. Mae secured a second line around a thick spruce tree uphill. Ben slid wooden blocks beneath the chassis. Rourke crawled into the back of the van to clear fallen cargo away from the driver’s seat.
Camille remained beside Martin.
She inserted an intravenous line by the glow of a headlamp. She covered him with a thermal blanket and monitored his pulse.
“You’re doing well,” she told him.
“I’m terrified.”
“So am I.”
Martin blinked at her.
“You don’t look terrified.”
“That’s because I’ve had practice.”
The cedar beneath the van groaned again.
The winch cable snapped tight.
Jonah shouted from the truck.
“I’ve got the weight, but not for long.”
Ben placed the hydraulic spreader against the damaged door.
“Ready.”
Camille looked at Martin.
“This is going to be loud.”
Metal screamed as the tool forced the door outward.
Martin cried out.
Camille kept one hand against his neck and the other around his wrist.
“Stay with me. Look at my face.”
The gap widened.
Rourke cut through a section of twisted dashboard.
A small flame appeared beneath the hood.
Solomon emptied the extinguisher over it.
“Fire’s down, not dead.”
Distant sirens echoed through the storm.
The sound was faint.
Too far away.
Camille examined the space around Martin’s legs.