A Call into the Storm
Nora moved with the instinct of a woman who had spent twelve years as a rural pediatric nurse before retiring to the quiet hills of Blackwood County.
She laid baby Leo in an old wicker laundry basket lined with warm flannel towels and set it near the woodstove. She checked his capillary refill, his temperature, and his heart rate using an old stethoscope from her medical kit.
"Mild hypothermia, but his lungs are clear," Nora murmured to herself, wrapping a warm water bottle in a sock and tucking it beside his feet.
She turned to Maya, who sat huddled in the rocking chair, sipping warm chicken broth from a ceramic mug with two hands. The girl’s eyes never left the wicker basket.
Nora picked up the landline phone mounted on the kitchen wall. The line crackled with static from the storm.
"Sheriff’s Department, Blackwood County," a tired voice answered.
"Sheriff Miller, it’s Nora Gable out on Old Mill Road," Nora said, keeping her voice low so as not to alarm Maya. "I have two children at my house. A seven-year-old girl and a three-day-old infant. They walked three miles down the gravel road in the squall."
A pause on the other end, followed by the rustle of radio papers. "Did you say Linwood, Nora?"
"The baby has an ID band from St. Jude County. Evelyn Linwood."
Miller let out a long, heavy breath over the receiver. "Nora, don't let anyone near those kids. We just found Evelyn Linwood's sedan rolled into the ravine near Mile Marker 14. The vehicle was forced off the road by a heavy commercial truck. Evelyn was extracted thirty minutes ago—she’s in critical condition at the regional trauma center in Burlington."
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"Forced off the road?" Nora’s hand tightened on the receiver. "Miller... Maya said men in a black van were chasing them."
"Stay inside, lock the doors, and draw the blinds," Miller commanded. "A bridge washed out at Miller’s Creek. It’ll take my deputies forty-five minutes to reach your ridge using the forestry trail."
