too, when the help requests had started coming in. He’d given them their assignments based on what he’d heard from the official departments’ representatives regarding suspicions of where injuries, missing persons and fires were most threatening, primarily in city areas that were not close to downtown, and therefore most in need of attention from extra first responders.
They had all driven off in their vehicles similar to his, containing special equipment such as defibrillators to help to save people’s lives. Pedro had a portable fire hose with a pump system in his vehicle. And Chad also had special safety equipment for Winchell.
Then Grayson had made some calls himself. Fortunately, the exclusive, upscale Colton property, Rattlesnake Ridge Ranch—where he still lived most of the time with his large family, including parents and siblings—had been spared any damage.
He’d thrown on his bright neon green first responder vest over his long-sleeved T-shirt and heavily pocketed black pants.
Then he had dashed out, entered his vehicle and spent some time checking on some of the hardest hit areas outside downtown, where he had helped several people out of buildings destroyed by the quake. Fortunately, other firefighters had also shown up there.
That allowed him to head briefly toward one of his favorite spots, an abandoned bunker he had adopted as his own when he was a kid trying to find some privacy from his family. It wasn’t far from the family ranch, and like many similar places in this area, it was also an abandoned mineshaft. No one else seemed to know about it, and he’d been able to fix it up over time to be less of a mine and more of a livable hideout. He had headed there now because it was important to him and he wanted to check on its condition. And fortunately, it had completely survived the quake.
Next, he had chosen to head to this area far out of town. He’d begun his career as a wilderness guide. He would be much more skilled in locating and helping people injured out here by the quake than the rest of his staff.
So here he was in his vehicle, glad he’d continued throughout his life to work out intensely and often. With all the potential for disasters way out here, he might need even more strength today to follow his chosen path.
Leaving town along the main streets of Mustang Valley had been interesting. Lots of people out on the sidewalks. Lots of damage visible to some downtown buildings, though, fortunately, none seemed to have been destroyed. The pavement there appeared more wrecked than anything else. No deaths around there, fortunately, and no fires in this area, either.
Grayson had stopped once to help a mother holding her young child cross a damaged street to EMTs and an ambulance. He stopped another time to help a teen catch his fleeing dog.
After that, Grayson kept going out of town, avoiding cracks in the road as best he could.
So far, on this rural road, he hadn’t seen much of interest except many downed trees, which sometimes meant he had to ignore what was left of the pavement and drive on the leaf-strewn ground as well as he could. He had seen no recent indication of anyone, either on the road or the roadside, requiring a first responder’s assistance.
He decided to proceed for another ten minutes, and if no situation he needed to deal with materialized, he’d check in then with his employees to determine where he should go next to be of the most help.
The road turned to the right a bit, so he did, too. And then he saw what he’d been after but had hoped not to see: a van crushed by a large tree that had fallen on its front. At least that was what it appeared to be as he approached it from behind. In fact, the road was effectively blocked by the black van and the felled tree.
“Okay, what’s happened here?” Grayson said out loud, pulling his SUV to the side and parking. He got out quickly, grabbing the medical bag he kept on the floor. He had earned his EMT certification, so he knew how to conduct more than the basics of on-site medical care that could be necessary to save a life.
He also grabbed his large flashlight and used it first to check the ground as he approached the driver’s door of the van. He saw, as he got close, that the vehicle’s markings labeled it as belonging to the Arizona State Department of Corrections, the kind of van used to transport prisoners from one place to another.
If so—well, first things first. He needed to make sure everyone had gotten out of the vehicle’s cab safely.
Only...that wasn’t the case. In the bright glow of his flashlight, he immediately saw a man in what was left of the driver’s seat, covered in blood.
Grayson’s EMT training immediately kicked into gear. He opened the door carefully and checked to see if he could remove the injured person from where he lay after disconnecting his seat belt, without having to get the tree off the van.
Fortunately, he was able to.
Unfortunately, after he gently laid the victim on the ground and began checking for vital signs, he found none. He nevertheless ran into his van and got the defibrillator, but still no response.
Even so, he yanked his phone from his pocket.
“911,” said a female voice nearly immediately. “What’s your emergency?”
Grayson identified himself and quickly explained the situation, including the fact that he believed the person he’d found to be dead.
“But in case I’m wrong—”
“We’ll get someone there as fast as we can under the circumstances, Grayson,” the operator, Betty, said. “I promise.”
“Fast” turned out to be about half an hour. Grayson couldn’t complain, particularly given the fact that there were likely to be a huge number of 911 calls that evening. Meanwhile, he attempted further CPR on the van driver—to no avail.
An ambulance eventually appeared. The EMTs in it—two guys he’d met before—took over for Grayson, but their conclusion was the same as his.
“We’ll take him to Mustang Valley General,” Sid said, while the other guy, Kurt, hooked the victim up to an IV. Necessary? Grayson doubted it, but hoped the man really was still alive.
“Thanks,” Grayson said. “Keep me informed about how things go.” Or not. Did he really want to hear that he was right, that the falling tree had killed the man?
Might as well, he figured.
He took a few photos on his phone of the fallen tree and ruined van. And as the ambulance took off, he looked around further.
He had already checked out the back of the van earlier, as he waited. The door was open, and there was no one inside.
Did the open door mean someone had been incarcerated inside? Maybe.
He’d walked around before the ambulance arrived and hadn’t seen any sign of someone else injured—or worse. But he felt obligated to check a bit farther now, just in case.
At least he knew that ambulances were currently available, if necessary. But had there been someone inside the van’s rear area? Someone this now-deceased driver had been transporting? If so, was he or she okay?
Grayson was not a cop. If whoever it was needed to be captured again, that wasn’t his job, although he could notify the Mustang Valley PD if he found him or her—most likely his sort-of best buddy there, Detective PJ Doherty; his brother Rafe’s fiancée, Detective
