"Oh," Faith squeaked when she, Donny, and Rick entered the triage bay where Lizzie Zimmerman was being treated.
She was sitting on the side of the bed, draped in a hospital gown, as three nurses tended to her. Two stood behind her, carefully plucking shards of glass from her shoulders and the backs of her arms, while the third applied salve to the large, raw abrasions on each thigh and knee.
The angry softball-sized lump in the middle of her forehead was dramatically underscored by cuts and scrapes all the way from her chin to her hairline, and her skin had already begun to bruise from her ordeal.
"Hi," the patient said sullenly but carefully through swollen lips, then glared over her shoulder at the nurse working on her right arm.
"Ouch! You keep pinching me with those tweezers, and I
