she relayed. ‘Climbing down.’ She moved as she spoke. Cautiously. Hanging onto the back of a seat frame as her feet found purchase on the cushioned back of the next seat down the vertical aisle. ‘How are those cables looking, mate?’
‘Good,’ came the terse response. Mac was concentrating as hard as she was.
‘These seats make quite a good ladder.’ Julia kept talking because she wanted Mac to keep responding. She wanted to hear his voice. Maybe she needed to keep hearing it because it gave her more courage than she could ever otherwise summon.
But when she was halfway down the aisle, the smell hit her. The smell of fear. And she could hear the voices and moans and she knew that within seconds she would be able to speak to and touch these unfortunate people. She could start doing the job she was trained to do and help those who had been plunged into a nightmare they couldn’t deal with alone.
Julia felt the power that came with the knowledge that she could help and that power gave her complete focus. Knowing that Mac was close gave her strength, yes, but that was simply a platform now. This was it.
Time to go to work.
‘Who can hear me?’ she called, pausing briefly. ‘Keep still but raise your hand if you can.’
She wanted to count. To find out how many were conscious enough to hear her and physically capable of any movement at all.
One hand went up tentatively. And then there was another. And another. Six? No, seven. And dim patches where she could see the shape of people but no hands. The less injured people would have to be evacuated first to allow access to the others.
The woman she’d earlier deemed close to hysteria was still sobbing. ‘Please…’ she called back. ‘Take Carla first. She’s only seven…Please!’
Julia revised her count to eight. Carla was being clutched too tightly to have raised her hand.
She climbed closer. The teenage boy with the injured arm was silent but she was close enough to see that his eyes were locked on her progress. Searching for her face. Silently pleading with as much passion as Carla’s mother.
Julia had to tear her gaze away to try and reassess the number and condition of victims she would be dealing with. To triage the whole scene, but it was difficult. The light had faded even more outside now and it was much darker in here. The light on her helmet could only illuminate a patch at a time and it was like trying to put a mental jigsaw together.
People were jumbled together. Right now it was impossible to see which limbs belonged to which person or even how many people were in the tangle.
‘Get me out!’ A male voice from behind Carla and her mother was loud. ‘I can’t feel my legs. I need help.’
Julia saw hands come over the seat back behind the still sobbing woman. Good grief, was the man trying to move himself despite possible spinal or neck injuries? Someone beside him groaned and then someone else screamed as the man’s frantic efforts created a shuffle of movement and made the carriage swing alarmingly.
‘Stay absolutely still, and I mean everybody!’ Julia injected every ounce of authority she could into the command. ‘Listen to me,’ she continued, her tone softening a little. ‘I know you’re all scared but you’ve all been incredibly brave for a long time and I need you all to hang onto that courage so you can help me do my job.’
Carla’s mother sniffed and fixed wide eyes on Julia. She would do anything, her gaze said. Anything that would, at least, save her child. The man behind her was quiet. Hopefully listening. Even a groan from nearby sounded as if someone was doing their best to stifle the involuntary interruption.
‘We’re going to get you all out,’ Julia said confidently, ‘but we have to do this carefully. One at a time. I’m going to help anyone who can move to get to the top of the carriage where someone will be waiting to carry them up to the bridge.’
Would Mac be there yet? Dangling on a winch line with a harness in his hands that he would pass through the door to Julia to buckle onto each survivor?
‘I’m here, Jules.’ It wasn’t the first time that Mac had seemed to be able to read her thoughts. ‘Ready when you are.’
‘When we’ve got as many as we can out, we’ll be able to take care of all of you that are injured and we’ll get you out as well,’ Julia told the passengers. ‘Do you all understand? Can you help me?’
She heard a whimper of fear and another groan but amongst the sounds of suffering came assent.
‘Just get on with it!’ the loud man was pleading now. ‘Stop talking and do something.’
Julia climbed past another seat. She made sure her feet were secure and then anchored herself with one hand. ‘Pass Carla to me,’ she ordered.
‘No-o-o-o!’ the child shrieked.
‘You have to, baby.’ With tears streaming down her face but her voice remarkably calm, Carla’s mother peeled small arms from around her neck and pushed her child towards Julia. ‘I’ll be there soon, I promise.’ Her voice broke on the last word but Julia now had a small girl clinging her like a terrified monkey and she didn’t take the time to reassure the mother. She was climbing upwards again and part of her brain was planning ahead. The teenage boy next. She had a triangular bandage in the neat pack belted to her hips. She could secure his injured arm and he should be able to climb with her. Maybe Carla’s mother after that, so that her panic wouldn’t make it harder for everyone else to wait their turn.
There would be others after that and then the real work could begin. Assessing and stabilising the injured and getting them out of here and on the way to definitive medical care.
By then the weight in the carriage and the potential for unexpected movement would be well down. The cables would have had a reasonably thorough test. Mac or one of the other SERT guys could join her. Someone would have to because there was no way she could carry the injured up herself.
Carrying a slight, seven-year-old girl was proving hard enough. The extra weight made it an effort to balance and then push up to the next padded rung of this odd ladder of seats. Julia’s breathing was becoming labored and the muscles in her legs and arms were burning. She had to concentrate more with every step so that fatigue wouldn’t cause a slip that might send them both falling down the central aisle.
She couldn’t even afford the extra effort of looking up past her burden to see how close she was to the top or whether Mac was peering down to watch her progress.
‘You’re almost there. Two more.’
How did he do that? Know precisely when she needed encouragement? This time, he could probably see the way she hesitated before each upward push. How each hesitation was becoming a little longer so he wasn’t really mind-reading. It just felt like that.
She could do two more. No. Julia could feel the determined line of her lips twist into a kind of smile. She could do ten more knowing that Mac was waiting at the top.
‘Good job.’
The quiet words were praise enough for her efforts. Julia was too breathless to respond immediately, though. She simply nodded once and then held out her hand for
