‘I’m going to die. You’ll have to cut off my legs. Martin’s dead…’ The girl’s voice rose in terrified hysteria and she writhed helplessly against her cruel confinement.

‘You’re talking nonsense.’ A man’s clipped, firm voice cut across Lisa’s screams. The ambulance driver was edged firmly out of the way and Luke Marriott’s face appeared on the other side of the car. His hands came in and caught the hysterical girl’s flailing fingers from hauling at her legs. ‘Keep still,’ he ordered. ‘Don’t move.’ Then, in the fraction of a moment while she reacted to his voice, he produced a syringe, swabbed with lightning speed and plunged the morphine home. ‘That’s good, Lisa,’ he said more gently. ‘The pain will ease now and we can cut the metal from your legs.’

‘But they’re smashed…’

‘You’re cutting them by pulling,’ Luke said firmly. ‘So don’t pull.’

‘And Martin’s dead…’

‘Is Martin dead?’ Luke looked over to where Nikki had found the point she wanted. Nikki was pushing firmly on a wad of dressing over the wound. At Luke’s terse request she looked up.

‘No one bleeds this much if they’re dead,’ she said grimly. ‘Ernie, I need a saline drip. If I can replace fluids…’

‘There you are,’ Luke told the frightened girl. He looked down at what he could see of the bottom half of her body. ‘Now, if you’ll stay absolutely still, I’ll see if I can relieve some pressure on your legs.’

It was grim work getting the two from the car, and by the end of it Nikki was despairing for the boy she was treating. Martin was deeply unconscious and the longer he remained unconscious, the worse it looked. The steering-wheel had slammed into his face. He had smashed his cheekbones, but something else was causing the coma. What? She hated to think. All she could do was keep him alive while around them men worked to free them.