“Well, little man, want some?” he said, thrusting the ice cream under the boy’s nose. “It’s a treat.”

The boy didn’t react at first, but then suddenly stuck out his tongue and licked the ice-cream.

“Well done. Shall we sing a song? This is the way the ladies ride, jimp and sma’, jimp and sma’. This is the way the gentlemen ride, trotting a’, trotting a’”

The boy took another lick. Tears rolled down his face.

“Good!” K. affectionately stroked the boy’s head. He turned and shouted to the driver. “Listen! You’re going to gently slow down, stop and park for a couple of minutes. After that, start moving again slowly and then hit the gas. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Grumpy.”

“Yes.”

“Here, take the novocaine. Draw ten milligrams into a syringe and hand it to me. And while I’m injecting, get another dose ready.”

They came to a gentle stop. K. took a deep breath and shut his eyes.

Anterior fascia. Prep the operating field in the upper third on the anterior surface of the thigh. Inject novocaine subcutaneously until a lump appears. Change to long needle to advance into tissue when injecting novocaine. Maintain continuous movement. Check for bleeding by removing the syringe from the needle. Inject one hundred millilitres into the bone. Repeat on the other side. The ambulance stopped.

K. exhaled, opened his eyes, and took the syringe from Grumpy.

The boy groaned, but the sounds of his complaints already felt distant and vague, coming from a place where they would not disrupt K.’s hands and eyes.

They were met at the emergency ward by three orderlies. K. gripped one tightly by the forearm.

“Listen. Are you doing intake? Write this down. Patient is six years old. Place of residence, Snizhne. You’re dealing with a crush syndrome case, multiple fractures. Tourniquets have been applied.” He glanced at his watch. “Novocaine block administered. Thirty-four minutes ago. One hundred millimetres in each pre-outer fascia. Twenty-one minutes ago. No relatives.”

The orderly looked stunned.

“You did this on the road?”

K. saw the other two orderlies leaving.

“Well, it looks good, no?” said Grumpy. “He was in alright condition. He even smiled at me as we arrived.”

“His chances are pretty poor actually,” K. answered, picking empty syringes off the ground.

“Let’s come back in a couple of days and find out.”

K. shook his head.

“No. I don’t want to know.”

The steel tracks crept along the road, blaring, and leaving a trail of ripped-up tarmac in its wake.

Loud voices and the clinking of dishes emerged from the cafe patio in the park. A wake. They were burying the mother of the boy they had just brought in, as well as three others from the same building. It was a small town. All the wakes were organised in the same place.