The great gout of water slammed Amy to the sidewalk and then sent her spinning helplessly across the concrete, over the curb, and onto the rough asphalt of the parking lot. Still the water kept coming, pouring out of the store in a massive sideways geyser, a foamy white cataclysm full of squealing rats. One of the creatures smacked into Amy’s chest before the current carried it away. She tried to stand in the spray but was instantly knocked back down. Crawling, spitting up water, her knees torn and bloodied, her palms raw hamburger, she managed to drag herself out and collapse on her side. And then she closed her eyes.

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

Twisting her head, Amy looked around for Basil. She spotted him closer to the entrance, surrounded by a trio of firefighters. They were already checking his vitals, asking him questions.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

Amy tried to sit up. A very young officer from the Cuyahoga County sheriff’s department was standing over her. He looked all of fourteen years old. She staggered to her feet, his hand on her elbow, then put her arms around the cop and held on to him for dear life while huge wracking sobs tore themselves out of her body.

“I need an EMT,” he shouted back over his shoulder. Then, more quietly to Amy, “You’ve cut your head … ”

She touched her fingertips to her forehead and felt a bruised flap of skin hanging loose. When she brought her hand away, her fingertips were gray and sticky. The orange parking lot lights leached her blood of color and she stared at it, fascinated. Without a goal, without the urgent need to escape from Orsk, she was in a daze.

A paramedic who looked like a linebacker took her from the cop and guided her to the back of an ambulance. It was bright and white and when he sat her on the rear bumper, she didn’t ever want to leave its sane modern light.

“What’s your name, miss?” he asked.

“Amy.”

He aimed a tiny flashlight at her pupils. “Do you know what day it is, Amy?”

“The day after yesterday.”

He smiled. “Can we assume you don’t have a horrible brain injury?”

Amy shook her head and tried to smile.

“Don’t,” the paramedic said. “Try not to move. I’m going to take care of you until we get to the ER.”

That sounded good to her. The paramedic popped a thermometer into her ear and checked the reading, then unwrapped a silver space blanket and hung it over her shoulders to stop the shaking. When Amy tried to stand again, he put a hand on her shoulder and coaxed her down. “Just a few minutes,” he said. Then he pulled on light-blue latex gloves and went to work on her head.