Carmen Morales

Carmen had stripped down to her underwear and dived into the water without breaking her run, and though she searched and searched, she still couldn’t find Patricia anywhere.

How long had she been swimming?

Was it even worth looking in the water any longer?

Why wasn’t she tired any more?

Adrenaline made the blood pound in her ears, and she paid no heed to the questions running through her mind. She needed to find her sister, and she needed to find her now.

Stopping to tread water, Carmen squinted against the sun and peered out further into the water.

There.

There! One hundred feet out, there was movement! Dark hair broke the surface, and Carmen nearly began to cry as she started to swim in that direction.

"Hang on lady, I’m on my way!" came a shout from the shore, but Carmen paid no attention to it, not knowing if it was for her or for the woman further out, who she was foolishly praying would be her sister.

She swam faster.
 

Dr. Charlene Wilson

She heard the shouting and ran over to the girl who had been waving. The girl was pretty, and seemed ready to float away with relief at the sight of her.
"What happened?" Dr. Wilson asked.

"He was like this when I found them."

Dr. Wilson sank to the ground beside the little boy. A flash of pain traveled the length of her spine, and she knew that she would be in extreme pain by the end of the day.

Dr. Wilson assessed the child. Approximately seven year old male, unconscious, weak carotid pulse. His breathing was very slow. Her fingers skimmed the small body, feeling no broken bones. Just skin that was cool and clammy, despite the tropical heat.

She thumbed open his eyelids, and they didn’t dilate in the bright sun. "Wake up, buddy!" she yelled near the boy’s ear. Dr. Wilson had a bad feeling.

Three sets of eyes were staring at her. She swallowed. She’d given bad news to families a million times. But being here, with the acrid stink of jet fuel, and the sound of people sobbing, seemed to make it a million times worse.