studied the bus, wondering how best to handle the situation. No matter what she did, there was some risk. At least it didn’t look as if it was going to catch on fire and burn again.
“Is the bus gonna explode?” someone yelled from inside.
“Man, why didn’t those guys cut us loose while they were at it?” someone else griped.
“Can anyone reach the driver? He’s got a set of keys on him.”
“Dude,” someone else said, “I think that guy Jolly or one of his cabrons took the key ring.”
Kate jumped up and caught hold of the edge of the bus, then hauled herself up. The men inside the bus saw her through the windows and started screaming for help, wanting to know if the bus was on fire. They beat on the windows with their free hands, the other hands manacled to the D-rings in the floor. Several of the prisoners yelled at her, urging her to get inside and set them free. Some of the comments bordered on suggestive. Kate ignored it all, hoping she wasn’t going to find the guards dead.
The driver’s window was open. Kate looked inside and saw the uniformed guard lying spread-eagled across the bus doors that were now flat to the street and unable to be opened. The guy was in his fifties, heavy-set and balding. She couldn’t help thinking he was somebody’s husband, somebody’s father, maybe even somebody’s grandfather. But she had no idea how she was going to get him out of the bus if it caught on fire again.
Holding on to the edges of the window, Kate let herself down into the bus. She knelt beside the fallen guard. Blood covered his face, still leaking from a deep laceration on his forehead. Bleeding’s good, she told herself. Bleeding means the heart’s beating. He’s alive. But he had to stop bleeding to stay that way.
The wound wasn’t going to stop bleeding on its own. It was too wide, too deep. Judging from the look on his head, he’d have a concussion at least, but something short of a skull fracture, she hoped.
“Hey!” one of the orange-jumpsuited prisoners called out. “Hey, chica! Get his keys! Get us out of here before we burn up!”
Several other prisoners echoed the demand/plea. A few of them were crying or praying.
“You’re not going to burn up,” Kate stated. She reached under the dash and freed the large first-aid kit secured there. Sorting through the supplies, she found a gauze pad and a roll of adhesive tape. She pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and cradled the guard’s head in her lap. Working quickly and from experience, she wrapped the wound, fashioning a turban that would compress the laceration and help aid the clotting to stop the bleeding.
“Damn you, woman!” someone swore. “You can’t just leave us in here to die!”
Kate didn’t take the verbal abuse personally. Being a single woman in what was essentially a man’s profession drew a lot of ire and harsh speculation as to why she did what she did. A lot of men felt threatened. None of them seemed to understand or accept that she just loved being part of the world her father had introduced her to. There was a real freedom in being a guide, in staying out in the wilderness where she wasn’t under someone’s constant scrutiny.
“You’re not going to die,” Kate said, not looking at them. They were captives, chained to the D-rings mounted in the floor. Most of them had to stand now, or sit on the opposite seats because they were at the end of their chains.
“This frickin’ bus is on fire, lady,” someone snarled. “Look at all the smoke.”
“Was on fire,” Kate said calmly. “I put it out before your buddies stole my vehicle.”
“Jolly ain’t no buddy of mine,” someone said. “That bastard had this whole thing wired, this escape an’ all. Blew up the bus. An’ he didn’t invite nobody else in on it.”
Kate let that pass without comment. The prison pecking order wasn’t her concern. Finished with the wounded guard, satisfied that she’d done all she could do under the circumstances, she turned her attention to the second guard.
He was younger, probably twenty-four or twenty-five. He was slim and good-looking. Or at least he would have been if it hadn’t been for the massive swelling on the side of his face. Somebody had hit him really hard.
Reaching into the first-aid kit, ignoring the continued caterwauling of the prisoners, Kate took out an ammonia capsule and snapped it under the younger guard’s nose. The acrid stink caused Kate to choke and cough, but it woke the guard.
He came around fast, jerking his head to get away from the ammonia. He cursed and reached for his pistol but found only an empty holster. His eyes were wide and frightened as he looked up at her.
Kate looked at his prison ID, noting the picture and the name. If something had been planted on the bus to cause the tire to blow it, it could have been an inside job. Just because the guy was wearing a prison guard uniform didn’t mean he was a good guy.
“Bill,” Kate said in a neutral voice. “Bill Maddox. Can you hear me?”
“Huh?” Maddox blinked at her. Awareness gradually seeped into his eyes. He touched the side of his face. “Damn but that guy can hit.”
Kate held up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Maddox looked and blinked. “Two.”
She smiled at him, feeling some of the control returning to the situation. “Good. You’ve been in an accident, but you’re going to be fine. Do you know what happened?”
“Yeah. Something on the side of the bus blew up. Pete lost control and we flipped. By the time I recovered, Shane Warren was out of his seat, off the chain and through that security door. He hit me before I could pull my weapon.” Bill shook his head slowly. “I’ve never seen somebody move that fast in my life.”
“Can you sit up?”
He managed it with help and Kate left him propped against the top of the bus.
“I’ve got to try to get help,” Kate said. “Your friend needs someone to look after him.”
“Where’s Pete?”
Kate pointed at the older guard crumpled against the doors.
Maddox started to get up, then his legs turned rubbery and he sat back down hard again. The prisoners jeered at him, making fun of his inability to stand.
“Easy,” Kate said, looking him in the eye. That was important to a shock victim, she knew. The victim had to feel that he could take care of himself. “You’re probably a little lightheaded right now. After everything you’ve been through, that’s to be expected. Just go slow and you’re going to be fine.”
Leaning back, Maddox started taking deep breaths.
“Breathe slowly,” Kate made herself say calmly. She knew she sounded much more calm than she felt. She’d practiced sounding that way during stressful situations. She demonstrated till he started breathing that way too. “You breathe fast like that you’re going to get your blood too oxygenated, you’ll hyperventilate and you could pass out. That won’t help Pete.” Give him someone else to take care of, she thought. That way he’ll stop worrying about himself so much.
“Okay,”
