Always the Hero

‘You need to keep yourselves safe.’ Tom pointed upwards. ‘Another aftershock could bring that lot down. Who directed you to dig here?’

He shook his head. ‘We just arrived.’

‘Follow us to the information centre. We’re going to get a plan in place for a systematic search and rescue effort. We’ll need all the help we can get.’

He turned to Abby, who was staring in horror at the gap the men were opening up in the pile of rubble. Could she see the part of the woman’s body being exposed? Was it someone she knew?

He wanted to reach out. To touch her arm and offer encouragement. Strength. Or comfort, maybe. But he would be crossing a boundary to do that. The same boundary that made it inappropriate to want to send her back to the hospital to protect her. They were no longer in any kind of relationship. Quite the opposite, and Abby would not want to reach out in any way. The boundary was an almost palpable thing. Like a glass bubble encasing Abby.

‘Drive on, Abby,’ Tom said quietly. ‘We can’t stop.’

This was far, far worse than Abby had anticipated, but it felt so unreal she knew she wasn’t going to fall apart. It was like being transported onto the set of a disaster movie and she was merely a character waiting to play her part depending on the instructions of the director.

Feeling as though she was on autopilot, she kept the vehicle going until they reached the other end of the main street. The wharf end, where the ferries berthed. She could see a police car among all the vehicles parked outside the information centre, a modern hexagonal structure that was central enough to make it an excellent choice as an operational hub.

The men who were currently the directors looked as though they were up against it.

The island had three police officers and Mike Henley was the most senior. The biggest ‘incident’, as Tom would call it, that Mike had had to deal with in recent years had been a private yacht that had gone aground in rough weather on Elephant Rocks, which were far enough offshore to have made the rescue fairly dramatic.

Mike’s best mate was Don Johnson, who was the chief fire officer for Kaimotu Island. He was also in charge of civil defence and the coastguard and, in fact, he’d been the one who’d dealt with the Elephant Rocks incident very competently.

Both men had come past the hospital on the way into the town’s centre as soon as this emergency had struck and they’d taken the time to check, as best they could, that the building that would be required for providing medical aid was safe to be inside. When the two men saw Abby come into the information centre with Tom and Frank, their relief was obvious. Expert help had started to arrive, at last.

And Abby was proud to introduce him to Tom. If anyone had asked her who she would want to turn up if she was ever in a dangerous situation and needed her life saved, Tom Kendrick would be at the very top of her list.

Even after they’d broken up.

Maybe even more so, because she knew that Tom still wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to save her, even if it meant he was putting his own life at risk. And it wasn’t because he was stupid and a cowboy, as some had accused him of being. Or that he had some kind of death wish. He could calculate those risks perfectly well. He was just prepared to push the boundaries further than most.

Abby was a born worrier. She could conjure up imaginary disasters with no effort whatsoever. The habit was as ingrained as the way she tied shoelaces or slept with her head cradled in the crook of her elbow.

What would Tom think if he knew about some of the fantasy situations she’d come up with over the years? The ones that always ended with his appearance to make everything okay? The ones where he saved her and held her in his arms afterwards as if she was the most precious thing on earth? Or the ones where he saved Jack and recognised his own son?

Oh … help …

This was no fantasy. Abby stood quietly to one side as the group of men taking control of this rescue operation made swift plans. The wall behind them was covered with the kind of brochures the tourists were looking for the moment they arrived on Kaimotu Island. Invitations to charter a fishing vessel or go scuba diving. Pictures of people happily abseiling, mountain biking or taking a vineyard tour. The kind of activities Kaimotu was famous for and which now seemed no more than fantasies themselves.

A map of the township was on a table and grids had been drawn on it. There were cans of spray paint in a box on the floor. They were going to be assigned areas and would spray information on the walls about what they found. Whether there were people trapped. Or needing urgent attention for their injuries. Or dead. If they came across serious injuries, they could only take the time for an initial stabilisation and then summon backup for transportation to the hospital. They had to keep moving as fast as possible.

There was no way Tom’s presence was going to be enough to make everything okay here, either. It was going to take a lot of people and a lot of time. They were facing a gruelling night of probably grim and possibly dangerous work.

There was also absolutely no chance of Tom taking her in his arms and holding her, and that was a good thing. She was over him. She’d spent years getting over him and she couldn’t afford to let those protective walls around that place in her heart fall apart.

And surely there was no chance that Tom would instantly see himself in Jack, was there? She’d managed to avoid letting Tom know exactly how old Jack was, which would be a dead giveaway, and there shouldn’t be any need for the two of them to be in the same place at the same time.

When Jack and the other children turned up, they would be cared for in the community centre. She would be able to get there and reassure herself that he was fine and then she could have him go to Ben’s parents, Doug and Ailsa. Or Hannah, up at the hospital.

Somehow she had to keep Jack hidden from Tom.

At least until she had some time to try and think this through.

Abby barely heard the last instructions being issued by Tom and Mike and Don. She tightened the straps on her backpack full of medical supplies.

‘So you’ll be Tom’s partner,’ Mike said, as though summarising everything she hadn’t heard clearly enough. ‘You’re going to triage the northern half of the village but if we need you for major medical stuff, you’ll be contacted by radio.’

Abby could only nod.

Tom’s partner.

How ironic was that?

At least they had an urgent mission to focus on. No time for anything personal to interfere with the job that needed to be done.

No time to herself to try and think things through.

To try and deal with the awful dread that she had, in fact, done a terrible thing by not making more of an effort to tell Tom about Jack a long time ago.

CHAPTER THREE

THE CHOPPING BEAT of a hovering helicopter was loud enough to preclude the need for any conversation as Tom and Abby stepped out of the information centre, which had now morphed into the island’s incident control headquarters.

Abby was shading her eyes against the lowering sun to peer upwards.

Tom raised his voice, although the chopper was moving again, now. ‘That’ll be the extra doctors arriving. And maybe the first USAR team members. Hopefully with a search dog.’

He saw Abby close her eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, as though summoning a fresh burst of courage. He had to fight the urge to touch her. To offer her some of his strength.

‘Who else will come, do you think?’

Tom didn’t have to raise his voice any longer. ‘I imagine the army will be involved by now. If they’ve got an Iroquois helicopter available they can dispatch a few troops, which will be useful. It would be good to have more space available for evacuating any serious trauma, too.’ He glanced down at the map in his hand. ‘Let’s get going. Where’s Hickory Lane? That’s the southern border for our search area.’

‘A few blocks up this way.’ Abby set off. ‘It’s got a bakery on one side called The Breadbin and the Fat Duck café on the other side. There’s a big metal duck sculpture that hangs off the side of the café. You can’t miss it.’

Except the quirky café icon was no longer hanging off the brick wall. It was buried somewhere beneath the rubble. There were several local men standing in the middle of Hickory Lane, where it branched off the main street.

‘Hey, Abby,’ one of them called. ‘You okay?’

‘That’s Jim,’ Abby told Tom. ‘He’s our butcher. His shop’s a bit further down.’

She stepped closer to the men. ‘I’m fine, Jim. What about you? Oh, help … look at your hands.’

The middle-aged butcher was still wearing his blue-and-white-striped apron but it was filthy. His arms were just as grimy but they were also scratched and bruised-looking. His hands were a mess, his knuckles ripped and bleeding.

Tom saw them cupped in Abby’s much smaller hands. He saw the expression on Abby’s face. This man wasn’t just the local butcher. He was someone Abby cared about. Part of a community she cared about. A place and a way of life that made him an outsider.

He didn’t like that feeling.

‘It’s nothing.’ Jim dismissed Abby’s concern but his smile was grateful. ‘I’ve just been shifting a few bricks.’

‘A few!’ One of the other men gave Jim a friendly thump on his shoulder. ‘This man’s been a right hero. Single-handedly dug at least three people out from under where they got buried here.’ He pointed at the Fat Duck.

‘Everybody inside got out in time,’ Jim told them. ‘But poor Miriam got hit in the head by a brick or something. And some others got under the picnic table. They got buried good and proper.’

‘Where’s this Miriam?’ Tom asked.

‘We just sent her up to the hospital. Used the back of Johnno’s ute. She should be there by now.’

‘And the others?’

‘Not too bad. We sent them all off to get checked, though.’

‘So the café’s clear of people?’ Tom had his can of spray paint ready. ‘Are you sure about that?’

Jim nodded. ‘Business was pretty quiet. Miriam was last out. She was making sure all her customers were safe first, bless her.’

‘Right.’ Tom sprayed the word ‘Clear’ and the time on a window that was still intact. He could see inside the café. There were tables with plates of uneaten food on them. Toppled chairs and an abandoned handbag that was spilling its contents into the puddle created by an overturned water cooler. They needed to move on.

‘Let’s go, Abby. Next building. We’ll do the rest of Hickory Lane and then come back to the main street.’

‘What can we do to help?’ Jim asked.

‘Best thing you can do is head for the information centre. They’ll be organising teams and giving out some safety gear and radios and things. We don’t want you just off on your own. It’s too dangerous.’

‘I don’t think there’s anybody up Hickory Lane,’ another of the men said. ‘My wife and kids were along there and they got out fast. Everyone panicked and ran when they heard the siren go off. Someone said they should all go to the community centre in the new school hall.’

‘We’ll check anyway,’ Tom said. ‘But thanks.’

They moved swiftly along the narrow lane, climbing over rubble to peer into buildings. Yelling as loudly as they could.

‘Is anyone here? Can you hear me?’

There could be people buried or too injured to respond but they would be found later by the urban search and rescue teams and the dogs in a second sweep. Right now, the priority was to try and get an idea of the big picture and find anything urgent that could be dealt with fast.

Back on the main street they came across another knot of people, these ones in front of the hardware store. They spotted the overalls and helmets Tom and Abby were wearing and backed out to make room amongst the rubble.

‘We can hear someone,’ a man said, clearly distressed. ‘Groaning.’

Sheets of corrugated iron from the veranda roof along with timber beams were making it impossible to get any further. As they stood there, something rolled from higher up, bounced and narrowly missed Abby as it fell with a crash.

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