Page 9 of North

The kid with the Disney shirt. He sat with his mother, who cradled her arm, face white with pain. The little girl hugged her knees, tears cutting tracks through the dirt on her face. But it was the little boy who drew Selah’s attention—he clutched his wrist, crying.

His dad lay unmoving not far away.

“I’ll be back.” Selah left the waiter and moved toward the family, toward James, who was already trying to assess the boy’s injury.

His wrist had snapped two inches above his joint, the arm twisted slightly. The little boy held on to his arm, gulping back shock.

James had taken hold of the boy’s arm, his other hand behind the boy’s back. “We need a splint or something.”

Selah knelt beside the boy. “Hi there. I’m Selah. What’s your name?”

“T-Tommy,” he hiccupped.

“Tommy, it’s going to be okay.” She glanced at James. “I have a first aid kit in my backpack—” She made to get up.

“I’ll get it.” He glanced at her, and she put her hand on the boy’s arm. “I’ll be right back.” He took off toward the wreckage of the dining car.

She glanced at the mother. “You okay?”

“I think I broke my collarbone, but…” Her gaze went to her husband. “He was fine and then he just fell over.”

Which meant not fine. Selah moved over to the man. He still had a pulse. She glanced at the woman. “I’m sure help is on the way.” Selah kept her voice steady, gentle. The train ran parallel to the road in some areas—certainly some passersby would stop.

And it simply wasn’t the time, thank you, for North’s voice to slide into her brain with Don’t expect me to show up next time you⁠—

Fine, fine. She knew that. Sheesh.

James appeared from the dining car, her pack in hand, and slid down the bank.

A burst of gunfire cracked through the air—distant but clear.

Selah whipped around, body tensing. “What was that?”

“Probably just something exploding in the wreck,” James said, but something flickered in his gaze.

Fear? Yeah, well, she was scared too. “Hand me the pack.”

He took Tommy’s wrist and she opened her pack, pulled out a first aid kit. Opened it up. The kit came with a portable splint, and now she unrolled it.

“You travel with a splint?” This from James.

“You’d be surprised what’s in that pack.” She glanced at him. “Have to be ready for anything. Hold him steady.”

She didn’t try to adjust his arm, just set it against the aluminum splint and used medical tape to secure it. Then she pulled out an instant cold pack. The snap and shake of the chemical activation drew the boy’s attention. “See? Magic ice.”

Tommy’s tears slowed as she worked.

She glanced at the boy’s dad but got up and went to the mother for a quick look. Yes, the knotted collarbone definitely looked broken. “Can you put her arm in a sling?” She directed the question to James, whose cut had stopped bleeding, although he probably needed stitches.

She moved to check on the dad, who lay on his side. She stepped over him. He didn’t seem injured…

Wait.

His eyes were open. “I can’t…breathe.” The words struggled out.

Oh no.

More gunfire, closer now.