A Soldier's Reunion. Cheryl Wyatt

themselves as teachers. One rested a hand on the other, slumped over.

      “Her neck hurts.” She peered at Mandy with wide eyes.

      “Hold her neck like this and keep it still. Carefully walk her to an area where you’ll be seen by First Responders.” Mandy demonstrated by placing the teacher’s hand on her cohort’s neck and jaw. She helped them outside before returning to the mounting pandemonium on the bus, which leaned so far left it felt like it would soon topple over the gaping bridge.

      Something inside her screamed to get these children out. Triage training kicking in, she maneuvered down the aisle. Even with careful movement, the bus shifted several inches. Screams cut the air in tones resembling ambulance sirens.

      Halted and heart pounding, Mandy grasped a green spongy seat with her good hand. She faced the tousled group.

      Several frightened eyes stared back.

      “Is anyone hurt bad enough they can’t walk?” At her voice, hysteria hushed to whimpers.

      A dozen little heads looked at themselves, then all around. Disheveled hair shook and tiny trembling mouths warbled, “No.”

      “This is terrible and scary, I know. But we’re going to get you to safety, okay?” One by one, Mandy took the hands of the littlest ones and matched them with those of an older child.

      “Let’s make a game of it. Like a reverse Noah’s ark. Two-by-two.” She ushered each duo out the doors. Once all visible children were off the bus, Mandy directed them to the safest-looking intact portion of the bridge.

      Surely authorities knew by now it had collapsed. Surely they knew, and help would be here soon. Though it seemed an hour had passed already, probably only minutes had.

      After triple checking over every seat of the bus for unconscious children, Mandy helped the driver off. She assisted him to lie down flat near the teachers and joined the huddle of traumatized children.

      “H-how will we get off the bridge?” One little girl eyed their surroundings. Burning cars looked to be melting into the kind of tanker that transported flammable gas. It blocked one exit. A gaping hole the size of Refuge Memorial’s pediatric ward blocked the other.

      She faced the trembling child. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

      “J-Jayna.”

      “I’m Mandy. I’m training to be a doctor. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

      “A-a teacher.”

      “Good choice. I want you to think about how you would decorate your very first classroom, okay? Think about it really hard. Then I want you to tell me all about it once we get off this bridge. Okay? I’ll want every little detail.”

      Jayna nodded vigorously, eyes still big with fear.

      One boy stepped forth. “I wanna be a fireman. They help people.” He took the little girl’s hand. “Especially people who are very frightened.”

      Mandy smiled. “What’s your name?”

      “Caden,” the boy said.

      “Caden, you’ll make a grand fire chief some day.”

      Please let them live to fulfill their destinies.

      “Are there people in the cars?” Jayna’s voice escalated.

      “No. Thankfully, it looks like everyone escaped before the cars caught fire.” Mandy pointed up the bridge. “See? All those people huddling together? They can’t get to us, but they’ll keep each other calm. That’s what I need you to do, too, okay?”

      Caden leaned nose to nose with Jayna. “Yeah. We gotta get as brave as the big people. Can ya?”

      She nodded and swiped a finger across her nose.

      Another girl in a glittery “Princess” logoed shirt moved close and handed Jayna a tattered brown bear. “Here. Bearby will make you brave.”

      Mandy’s heart melted at the little child with teddy-bear-big eyes who looked like she longed to snatch the well-used toy back for herself. “That was nice, sweetie. What’s your name?” Mandy asked the girl who clasped Jayna’s other hand.

      “Reece North. And I want to be a famous rock star with big pink glasses and diva rhinestones when I grow up.”

      Smiling, Mandy faced the others. “Caden is right. Think you can be that brave?” A bouquet of miniature heads nodded.

      Except one. “I got asthma. Smoke makes it hard to breathe.” He audibly wheezed. But his color seemed okay. For now.

      Mandy pulled him close. “Do you have your inhaler?”

      His arms clasped her neck. “On the bus. I think.”

      “My face feels sunburned,” another child said. Mandy noticed. All their cheeks resembled rubies from fire heat. She eyed the bus. Maybe it would be better, safer to get them back on. That way, she’d have the inhaler should the little guy’s asthma kick in. Plus, they’d be more shielded from smoke. Then if the tanker exploded, they might be protected from the blast and debris.

      Or, putting them back on the bus could help them to die in one unit. Dread sickened her at the thought that any decision she made might hasten the manner of their deaths.

      Drowning or burning. Which was worse?

      Please show me what to do. I don’t know what to do. I just know I don’t want them to die.

      “H-how will we get off the bridge?” Jayna persisted.

      “Experts will know whom to send and what to do.” She’d been in Refuge long enough to know its townsfolk would pull together and rise above this epic tragedy.

      “I want my mommy!”

      “How will Daddy find me?”

      “Who will come for us?” Jayna persisted.

      Mandy tugged as many of them close as would fit, even though it hurt like mad to move her hand. The others huddled in, looking at her like she was their one and only lifeline.

      They’re looking to me. But it has to be You. Send help. Hold up this bridge, and hold down the fires.

      Peace she hadn’t felt in a decade befell her. Thankful He’d heard, and confident He’d act, she met each child’s frightened gaze. Then smiled into each face, using her eyes and—okay, mental prayers—to infuse courage, instill hope and inject calm.

      “Someone strong and brave will come. I promise. Someone who rescues people all the time.”

      “Who?” Jayna’s voice persisted. “Who will come rescue us?”

      Mandy looked square into two frightened, tearful eyes and said with calm assurance, “Only the best.”

      “There it is.” Nolan observed the unimaginable chaos. His pulse ramped at the surreal devastation.

      “Whoa!” Chance’s mouth hung open. The team stood as one unit, observing the collapse from the air.

      Vince inclined his torso. “Unbelievable.”

      “Weird to see steel and a slab of concrete we’ve driven over time and time again…” Brock shook his head. “Just—gone.”

      “Okay, guys. Gear up.” Nolan grabbed his stuff and lined up at the door. If he was gonna lead his team, he was gonna lead them. Joel was the kind of commander who hit the trenches alongside his men. Nolan would follow Joel’s stellar example of being both a humble servant and a confident leader.

      As if reading his mind, Petrowski leaned over. “Being Tech Sergeant in charge, you don’t have to go, Briggs.”

      “With all due respect sir, if my brothers are gonna be in harm’s way, I’m gonna be in it as well.” Wasn’t that what their creed