Victoria pulled her arm free from McCrea’s grasp as Caleb took off down the hill, sliding the last ten feet or so on his butt.

“Shit,” McCrea spat. This had all the potential of turning into something very, very bad. “First Sergeant Copley, come with me, please.” Together, they started down the hill to join the others. Luke stayed up on the brow, hugging himself as his lower lip trembled.

“Help me!” the voice cried again.

Caleb arrived at the wreck first. After a single peek, he spun away and vomited onto the churned-up grass. Victoria’s instinct was to look away, but she forced herself to lean into the window.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” the injured woman said. “Please help me. It hurts. Oh, God, it hurts.” She looked to be in her late teens, maybe early twenties. Still strapped into the shotgun seat, she seemed oblivious to the dead young man on the other side of the console. The top of his head had been sheared off at an angle that began in the middle of his left eyebrow and continued clean through the back of his head. Much of his brain had congealed on his lap and on the fabric of the deployed air bag.

“My legs hurt,” she said. “They hurt really, really bad.”

A white sliver of her left femur had erupted through her jeans. Victoria looked back at Caleb. “Bring the trauma bag,” she said.

McCrea moved in next to Victoria and kneeled on the ground next to the girl’s window. He brought his face about even with hers. “My name is Joe,” he said. “What’s yours?”

“Robin,” she said. “Robin Ives. I don’t know what happened. Zane and me were driving and then everything went crazy. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here for. I swear to God we weren’t drinkin’ or nothing.”

“That’s okay,” McCrea said. “You’ll be better now. But I need you to do something for me, okay?”

Caleb arrived with his rucksack unslung. “I’ve got the trauma kit.”

“Give me a minute,” McCrea said. He waited for Robin’s answer.

Her eyes were wide and wet. “What?”

“We’ve got to get her out of the car,” Victoria said.

McCrea held up his hand. “I’ve got this, Vicky,” he said. “Just give me a little bit of time.” To Robin, he said, “You’ve got to trust me. Okay? Do you trust me?”

Robin nodded yes, but her eyes said no.

“Look, Robin, it’s not just me,” McCrea said. “We’re all here to help. What I need you to do is close your eyes and count silently to ten.”

“I think my legs are broken,” she said.

“I think you’re right.”

“Please don’t hurt me any more.”

“Not on purpose, I promise, but you can’t just stay in that car, can you?”

Robin started to cry. “Please.”