Her efforts were keeping the car from spinning out, but the hit had pushed her onto the snow-covered side of the road untreated by the plows and salt trucks. Her tires lost traction, and the car wouldn’t respond to her handling or to the brakes she reluctantly engaged as other cars’ brakes lights came on ahead of her.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she said out loud, because she wasn’t going to be able to stop. And flashing headlights behind her revealed she wasn’t the only one out of control.
Airbags exploded in front of her with a cracking pop, and then her car became a pinball.
She hit a car ahead of her and slammed into the airbag. There was no time to think or feel or react. Pop. The side airbags deployed, and she was hit again. Again. Again. The car jolted this way and that. Screeching tires and blaring horns and other crashes sounded out all around her until Makenna couldn’t tell from which direction they came. Another hit, the hardest yet. Suddenly the car was on its side and rolling.
And all Makenna could do was scream.
*
Caden’s cell phone rang a little after seven, and he picked it up to see the firehouse’s number on his screen. “Grayson here.”
“Caden, it’s Joe. I know you just pulled a double but there’s a multi-vehicle MVA on 66 I expect us to get called in for any minute now. I sent Olson home an hour ago with the flu so we’re short and I know you’re close,” his captain said.
Caden was already shoving on his boots. “I’ll be there in five.”
By the time Caden was parking his Jeep, the doors on the firehouse bays were rolling up. Both emergency vehicles had their lights flashing as men suited up and climbed in. Caden hightailed it through the falling snow to the rig and grabbed his gear. “Let’s rock and roll,” he said as he jumped into the passenger seat of the paramedic unit.
From the engine truck, Joe gave him a salute.
“Catch me up,” Caden said to Brian Larksen, driving the rig beside him. They’d run many an incident together over the years.
“Multiple vehicles. Possibly as many as ten. Two overturned. One, Two, and Three are on the scene or en route,” Larksen said, referring to the county’s other fire stations. “Four and Ten were called out with us.”
“Christ, what a mess.” Caden said. “Well, one patient at a time.”
“Just like we do,” Larksen said, hauling ass onto Interstate 395 behind the engine truck.
Even with Friday night traffic and the snow, they made it to the scene in just under fifteen minutes. Not bad for being outside their usual area of operation.
And, Jesus, the scene was a fucking disaster.
Even from a distance, Caden could see the responders struggling to access vehicles smashed one against the next. A delivery truck was on its side half in the grass, where the road sloped down toward the exit ramp for Westmoreland Street.
They caught up with their guys at the engine, awaiting orders from the chief running the incident. Orders came quickly, and Caden and Larksen were tasked with attending the driver of the delivery truck. They got their gear and booked it to the truck. The crash had blown out the windshield, making access to the passenger cab easier than it otherwise would’ve been.
“Sir, my name’s Caden Grayson. I’m with Arlington E.M.S. and I’m going to help you,” Caden said, leaning in through the jagged edges of the busted window. The male driver was laying against the passenger door, which was road-side down, likely revealing he hadn’t been wearing his seat belt. The man looked up, and the side of his face was like hamburger. “Just lay real still for me. We’re gonna get you out of there. What’s your name?”
“Jared,” the man rasped.
“Getting him out of there is going to be a bear,” Larksen said quietly, handing Caden a flashlight. Caden nodded, his brain already working through the logistics on this one. They might need an assist. Caden knocked out the rest of the glass along one edge so he could lean over without cutting himself.
“Jared,” Caden said, leaning in further. “I’m going to take your vitals. Can you tell me what hurts?”
“My face and my arm,” the man said. “I got dragged against the road here.”
“Do you think anything’s broken?” Caden asked, getting the man’s pulse and heart rate, and checking the dilation of his eyes.
“No. I don’t think so,” Jared said.
“Okay, buddy, just hang in there. I’ll be right back,” Caden said, unfolding himself from around the window. He was updating Larksen and gathering supplies when Jared’s voice sounded from behind him.
The man was trying to climb out.
“Whoa, whoa,” Caden said, turning to support the man’s shoulders as he leaned out the window, blood streaming down his face and onto Caden’s jacket.
Larksen was right there, and together they lifted him out and laid him down on the road.
“Grayson!” a voice called.
Caden looked around until he saw Bear jogging toward him, but he ignored the other man because they had to get these wounds treated, particularly the one on Jared’s face. White bone glinted through the gore, and now Jared was struggling to maintain consciousness.
“Grayson,” Bear said, running up beside him.
“What?” Caden said, laser-focused on his patient.
“I need you to come with me,” Bear said.