Risking It All Read Online Free PDF Page B

Billy pulled himself onto his knees. The plane burned above him; any second it could fall down, trapping him beneath.
    “Get back! All of you,” the fireman ordered. “It’s going to explode.”
    There was a loud swoosh and Lynne screamed as hot air burnt her skin, but she ran forward, grasping Billy’s arm.
    “Billy, move!” she shouted.
    He staggered a few yards and the plane exploded in a deafening roar, spraying them in chunks of scalding metal. Lynne dragged him across the grass as the fireman ran up to support his other side. The tinder-dry grass ignited behind them.
    “Hurry, Billy,” Lynne said. The flames were moving fast behind them.
    “Bring him here,” a woman shouted.
    The ambulance crew were running towards them, a stretcher between them, shrapnel clanking off their hats. A piece struck Lynne’s bare head and she yelped.
    “Get him on,” the woman said, dropping the stretcher to the ground.
    They swung his legs up onto it, grabbed the handles and raced for their truck. Lynne ran alongside, staring at the blood spreading across his pillow, a hand to her mouth. His face was pale and dotted with burns. Raising a hand to her own skin, she touched sores and her eyebrows crunched, coming away in her fingers like tiny dry twigs.
    “Is he all right?” she said, panting.
    “Too early to tell,” the medic said.
    They carried him into the back of their truck and dropped the stretcher onto a narrow cot.
    “Hop in,” one of them said.
    Lynne climbed in and sat beside Billy. The vehicle bumped across the grass and he groaned, his fingers tightening on the stretcher. She took his hand.
    “You’re going to be fine,” she said. Her hand trembled and she tensed her muscles, heart still thudding in her chest. She leaned to kiss his cheek, desperate for the touch of his skin, to reassure herself he breathed, but he pulled his head away and stared at her through unfocused blue eyes, ringed with bruises.
    “How many died?” His voice slurred.
    She shook her head and pulled his blanket up.
    “How many?” he shouted.
    “I don’t know, I only heard about one. A man called Phillips.”
    “Arthur. His name was Arthur.”
    She pulled back, startled at his harsh tone. “We’ll talk about it later. You’re injured.”
    Lynne touched his face, finding the skin wet beneath his eyes. She traced her fingers across the raised bruises then down to his lips.
    “Don’t touch me,” he said.
    Lynne jumped.
    “This is your fault,” he said.
    “Billy, it’s me, Lynne.”
    “I know who you are.”
    She leaned closer; his blue eyes were dazed, blood soaking into the sheet. Was he concussed? The ambulance stopped with a jolt and he groaned.
    “Careful!” Lynne said.
    “Haven’t time,” the driver opened the door. “A plane’s coming in on fire. Have to get back out.”
    Her breakfast rose in her stomach and she swallowed rapidly.
    “You all right?” the woman said.
    “Yes.” Leaning down, she took hold of the stretcher and helped lift Billy out of the vehicle. Two nurses took hold of the stretcher handles and raced to the hospital hut.
    “Is he badly hurt?” Lynne said, running alongside.
    “No idea,” the nurse said.
    Lynne hurried ahead to open the doors and followed them into a small casualty area. Blood lay in drying patches on the floor and a man screamed from behind a green curtain. The nurses lifted Billy onto a narrow bed and grabbed scissors from a table.
    “I’m Nurse Connors,” one of the women said. “What’s his name?”
    “Jenkins, Billy Jenkins.”
    Lynne reached forward to take his hand, but the nurses blocked her. She watched them insert the scissors into the sleeve of his jacket and rip up to his shoulder.
    “Please be gentle,” she said.
    They tore open his jacket, ignoring her. His chest was covered in dark purple bruises. Lynne raised a hand to her mouth, unable to believe that last night she’d traced her hands over the same skin.
    “You need to go now,” Nurse Connors