The Camp Read Free

the roadrunner sees the falling rock and has to stop in time.
    The aging BMW cut within inches of her path and slammed into the driver, launching him twenty feet. Claire stopped and stared in disbelief, fully expecting the driver to skid to a stop. When he didn’t even slow down, she looked for a license number, but the plate was gone. In another minute, so was the car.
    Rye looked on in relief. This was the difficult part of operating an ambulance search and rescue service with his wife. He wanted to run to her side, express his concern, and swear her to caution. But there would be none of that. He waited until they locked eyes and then gave her a wave. When she returned the wave, he spun around and checked on the victim sitting in the back of the ambulance. She hadn’t moved, so he ran to the next victim.
    There had to be a faster way to gather them up, to get them out of the line of traffic, out of harm’s way.  
    The van that had honked accelerated away, but not before Claire caught sight of the man that had been standing in the opened side door. He wore a ski mask.
    When she reached the driver, he lay twisted on top of his right leg. One touch of the carotid artery and she knew he was dead. So she went running past the hulk of the crashed van, the same way the girl had gone.
    For a moment, she was distracted watching Rye attempt to gather up the victims. It was all so overwhelming.
    “Shit.”
    This was insane. They’d have to call in at least four ambulances to transport everyone.  
    Most victims of auto accidents lay as still as possible in an attempt to minimize pain. Some call out in delirium, others lay unconscious. Only the victim of a house fire had ever run. Claire nodded her head as she watched some of the girls walking in circles.  
    “Running shock. Yeah, has to be.”
    She watched as her husband walked, a girl on each arm, across the interstate. Four girls huddled near the rear of the ambulance, six remained to be rounded up. She headed for the ambulance at a run.
    Rye greeted her with a lopsided smile. “You okay?”
    “Fine.”
    He walked the two girls over to the others and stepped back. “They don’t seem to wander.”
    He gave his wife a ‘let’s get to it’ look, then tugged her arm, and headed back out onto the Interstate at a jog.
    The problem was that none of the girls moved faster then a slow walk.  
    They had just rounded up the last two when Medford ambulance, several police cruisers, and a fire engine pulled up.
    Claire watched the arrival with a smirk. “Better late then never.”  
    Rye laughed. “Odd. How hard can it be to locate an accident on the I-5?”

Chapter Three
    Ellen Stulov leaned against the tree at the corner of the parking lot across from Ashland High School, nervously rubbing her thumb along the edge of her cell phone. She was facing the school so she would see Steven step out of the crowd after the last bell.
    Her breasts were high on her chest and made her look taller then she was. At five foot eight inches, she was tall for sixteen, for a junior. Auburn hair hung long to the middle of her back and nicely framed her oval face. Her arms were proportionate to her long legs and she looked athletic.
    She turned heads when she entered a classroom or moved down the hall. The boys ogled her and stared when she walked past. Teachers, however, were perplexed. She always seemed to be waiting for a bell to ring, staring at the ground. Her head always down. On campus, her arms were always crossed over her chest. She rarely spoke.
    Then it all changed.
    One day while in a hurry, she was walking across the senior parking lot when Steven, the school’s first-string senior quarterback, recognized her as a junior on senior turf.
    On the field, Steven Huff was aggressive, fast, and sure of himself. On campus and off, however, he was mild-mannered, known for his even temper.
    Ellen froze as he approached, realizing her transgression. Steven hustled her into his car with the