emotion clogged her throat, like she’d been given a gift.
More sirens, the kind on a speeding emergency vehicle, sounded in the distance. Patricia started scanning the horizon again as she turned her walkie-talkie’s dial to the town’s police frequency.
Chatter came over the speaker immediately. She couldn’t follow all the codes and unit numbers, but she heard enough to know a large-scale emergency was in progress. All vehicles please respond....
She’d almost completed her slow circle when she spotted the smoke, an ugly mass of brown and black just now rising high enough to be seen over the trees and buildings. Last summer, as she’d volunteered near the Oklahoma border after some terrible tornados, the dry conditions had caused brush fires all around them. That smoke had been white and beige, a hazy, spreading fog. This smoke was different. Concentrated. The black mass looked almost like a tornado itself, rising higher into the sky with alarming speed.
Patricia’s stomach twisted. It was a building fire, and a big one. She’d seen building fires before, too. The variety of burning materials, from drywall to shingles to insulation, each contributed their own toxic colors of brown and yellow and black to the smoke. It looked almost evil.
Charming, carefree Luke was heading into it.
Clogged throat, twisting stomach—all were signs of emotions she’d prefer not to feel. All of it made Patricia impatient with herself. She had a hospital to run. If the structure that was burning in the distance was an occupied building, then her mobile hospital’s emergency room might be put to use very soon.
And if it is an abandoned building, firemen could still be hurt.
A useless thought. Regardless of who might be hurt, the emergency department needed to be put on alert. Patricia started walking toward that high-tech tent, ready to find out if they needed extra personnel or supplies. She’d be sure they got it.
“Oh, Patricia, there you are.” Karen Weaver stopped her several tents away from emergency. “I couldn’t reach you on the radio.”
“I’m on the police frequency.”
“Oh.” For whatever reason, Karen seemed inclined to stand still and talk.
Annoyed, Patricia gestured toward the emergency facility. “Let’s walk and talk. What do you need from me?”
“Well, I was hoping you could tell me where I could find—”
“Wait.” Patricia held the walkie-talkie up, concentrating on making out the plain English amid the cop codes. “Seaside Elementary. Isn’t that the school that was turned into the pet-friendly shelter?”
“I don’t know,” Karen said, frowning. “Is there a problem with it?”
Patricia stopped short. “Have you not heard all the sirens?”
The question popped out without the proper forethought. Fortunately, they’d reached the entrance to the emergency room, so her abrupt halt could be smoothed over. “I’m here to be sure the ER knows there’s a fire. Their tent is sealed, so they may not have heard the emergency vehicles, either.”
There, she’d given Karen an easy excuse for failing to notice blaring sirens in an otherwise silent town.
“You think there’s a fire?” Karen asked.
Silently, Patricia pointed to the north, to the dark funnel of smoke.
“Oh, I see.”
Patricia waited, but Karen didn’t seem inclined to say anything else.
So Patricia did. “This will impact us. We may have injured people arriving with pets in tow. We just put up a new shade tent outside the primary care. That could be a designated pet area. You could assign someone to be there with extra rope in case a pet arrives without a leash. We’ll need water bowls of some sort.”
“Yes, but we can’t keep pets here.”
“Of course not.” Patricia tempered her words with a nod of agreement. “The Red Cross has responsibility for relocating the shelter, but expect them to call you for support. Transportation, probably. We could loan the van, but let’s keep our own driver
More sirens, the kind on a speeding emergency vehicle, sounded in the distance. Patricia started scanning the horizon again as she turned her walkie-talkie’s dial to the town’s police frequency.
Chatter came over the speaker immediately. She couldn’t follow all the codes and unit numbers, but she heard enough to know a large-scale emergency was in progress. All vehicles please respond....
She’d almost completed her slow circle when she spotted the smoke, an ugly mass of brown and black just now rising high enough to be seen over the trees and buildings. Last summer, as she’d volunteered near the Oklahoma border after some terrible tornados, the dry conditions had caused brush fires all around them. That smoke had been white and beige, a hazy, spreading fog. This smoke was different. Concentrated. The black mass looked almost like a tornado itself, rising higher into the sky with alarming speed.
Patricia’s stomach twisted. It was a building fire, and a big one. She’d seen building fires before, too. The variety of burning materials, from drywall to shingles to insulation, each contributed their own toxic colors of brown and yellow and black to the smoke. It looked almost evil.
Charming, carefree Luke was heading into it.
Clogged throat, twisting stomach—all were signs of emotions she’d prefer not to feel. All of it made Patricia impatient with herself. She had a hospital to run. If the structure that was burning in the distance was an occupied building, then her mobile hospital’s emergency room might be put to use very soon.
And if it is an abandoned building, firemen could still be hurt.
A useless thought. Regardless of who might be hurt, the emergency department needed to be put on alert. Patricia started walking toward that high-tech tent, ready to find out if they needed extra personnel or supplies. She’d be sure they got it.
“Oh, Patricia, there you are.” Karen Weaver stopped her several tents away from emergency. “I couldn’t reach you on the radio.”
“I’m on the police frequency.”
“Oh.” For whatever reason, Karen seemed inclined to stand still and talk.
Annoyed, Patricia gestured toward the emergency facility. “Let’s walk and talk. What do you need from me?”
“Well, I was hoping you could tell me where I could find—”
“Wait.” Patricia held the walkie-talkie up, concentrating on making out the plain English amid the cop codes. “Seaside Elementary. Isn’t that the school that was turned into the pet-friendly shelter?”
“I don’t know,” Karen said, frowning. “Is there a problem with it?”
Patricia stopped short. “Have you not heard all the sirens?”
The question popped out without the proper forethought. Fortunately, they’d reached the entrance to the emergency room, so her abrupt halt could be smoothed over. “I’m here to be sure the ER knows there’s a fire. Their tent is sealed, so they may not have heard the emergency vehicles, either.”
There, she’d given Karen an easy excuse for failing to notice blaring sirens in an otherwise silent town.
“You think there’s a fire?” Karen asked.
Silently, Patricia pointed to the north, to the dark funnel of smoke.
“Oh, I see.”
Patricia waited, but Karen didn’t seem inclined to say anything else.
So Patricia did. “This will impact us. We may have injured people arriving with pets in tow. We just put up a new shade tent outside the primary care. That could be a designated pet area. You could assign someone to be there with extra rope in case a pet arrives without a leash. We’ll need water bowls of some sort.”
“Yes, but we can’t keep pets here.”
“Of course not.” Patricia tempered her words with a nod of agreement. “The Red Cross has responsibility for relocating the shelter, but expect them to call you for support. Transportation, probably. We could loan the van, but let’s keep our own driver
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