Robin turned. Señor Guerrero was exposed from the waist down, his hip swollen and dark. But she didn’t even notice. She was running for the door at the far end of the ward, switching the walkie-talkie to the major’s channel and sorting out priorities in her mind as she went.
‘Guerrero.’ The major answered Robin’s call immediately.
‘Major, there’s a flood and a mudslide heading towards us. The lower floors, at least, are at imminent risk. Can you ask Doctor Potosi to get everyone there to move up as fast as possible? And move the generator too if you can, so we can keep the lifts running for as long as possible.’
The major wasted no time on pointless questions. ‘Move up how far?’
‘Richard says to the roof, but I guess to the top floor and stay in the dry until we know precisely what he’s planning. Are the generators on the roof working yet?’
‘Barely. Doctor Potosi is here. How long have we got?’
‘Before the flood, no time at all. Before the mudslide, who knows?’
She reached the door, only to be stopped by Miguel-Angel’s cry. ‘Señora! There is a wall of water … It is coming over the car park … Madre de Dios!’
The whole building shook as the water hit. The sound of breaking glass echoed up the stairwell. My God, thought Robin as she span through the door and went racing down the stairs. If that’s how it reacts to a flood, what’s it going to do when a mudslide hits? But when she reached the ground floor, things were not quite as bad as she had feared. The steps up from the car park had saved them from complete inundation for the time being, but a glance through the shattered doors showed only a sea of brown water that seemed hardly less threatening than the huge waves which had nearly destroyed Maxima. Then, as she looked through the wreckage and up the hill, she realized that one of the houses a couple of streets up, in the forefront of the flood, was beginning to collapse. The mudslide was on its way, she reckoned. And the only thing stopping it moving as fast as the water was the resistance being put up by the buildings upslope of the hospital. But behind the tinkling of the glass still falling out of the doorframe, the rumble of the flood and the hissing of the downpour she heard the welcome wheeze of the lift coming into operation. And, nearer, the chime that announced that the lift car had arrived. She followed the sound and found Dr Potosi in charge of several hospital staff who were wheeling beds into a sizeable lift car as fast as they were able to. There was a crowd of walking wounded behind them, waiting to squeeze in round the beds. Robin opened her mouth but her words were cut short by another chime as the car in the second shaft arrived. The fact that it was working made Robin think Guerrero’s men on the roof were getting the generators back online. The walking wounded crowded into this. ‘Top floor,’ called Robin, and Dr Potosi translated, ‘Al ultimo piso,’ then stepped back to join Robin as both sets of doors hissed shut.
‘My husband says we may have to go out on the roof soon,’ said Robin.
‘That is al azotea in Spanish. Have you any idea why he wants us there?’
‘No. But it’d be good to get away from this.’ Robin looked down. The muddy water was already around her ankles. There was a roaring sound as it went pouring down the lift shaft. ‘It is fortunate,’ observed Dr Potosi, ‘that the lift motors are in watertight housings with the back-up generators on the roof.’
‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘Are there many more people on this level?’
‘We need only worry about the bedridden, I think. Those on crutches and frames are willing enough to attempt the stairs. I have sent everyone I can spare down here to bring the beds to this place. We should get them all in two lifts. Could you start organizing the same thing on the next level up?’
‘Yes. And don’t forget the third level. That’s where the major’s father and brother are. How many levels are there above that?’
‘Seven. But they are all empty.’
As Dr Potosi spoke, the first of the lifts returned. The doors opened. The water, which was now well over the women’s ankles, washed over the lift car’s floor, forming little whirlpools and rapids as it continued to cascade into the shaft. ‘I am glad this is the last set of patients from this floor,’ said Dr Potosi. ‘This water is becoming unnerving.’
‘And there’s worse on the way,’ warned Robin. ‘I’ll go upstairs and see how things are proceeding.’
‘And check with Major Guerrero as to how long we are likely to be able to run the lifts,’ advised the doctor as Robin turned to dash up stairs. But as she passed the rear of the reception area on her way to the staircase, she couldn’t resist another look outside. The water was deep enough to be forming waves now, and they were washing in through the shattered door. It was also deep enough to begin to carry rubbish and worse down the hill. As Robin paused, she saw the first tree trunk coming across the drowned car park. And, beside it, what looked like an entire A-frame roof — terracotta tiles and all. She looked up. The furthest line of houses had vanished now. Only one flimsy street stood between the hospital and the mudslide. She turned, slopped across to the staircase and ran on upwards, thanking heaven for her all but indestructible footwear. At the same moment as the tree trunk hit the front of the hospital like a medieval battering ram, the walkie-talkie sounded. She jammed it to her mouth as she dashed out on to the next floor. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s Richard. How are things going?’ The question was almost lost beneath the pandemonium of the A-frame roof tearing itself apart against the front wall of the hospital.
‘Bad to worse. We’re moving everyone up like you asked. I’m just about to find out how much longer we can keep the lifts running. Even if they can handle the flood, it’s a hundred to one that the mudslide will screw them.’
‘Biddy’s on her way back down. Anyone she can pick up? The boy?’
‘His father’s here. Badly broken leg. The boy’s waiting with him.’
‘Can she take both, maybe? Or if not, is there anyone else?’
‘No. She won’t be able to land anyway. I’ll get back in contact when we have people on the roof. She might be able to take some from there. Two of Nic’s men are ex-storm swimmers. They might be able to help or advise.’
‘I’ll check. Good luck in the meantime. And for God’s sake, take care.’
She broke contact. ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she said to herself.
She found Guerrero and the hospital’s electricians at the junction box nearest to the lifts. ‘How long can we keep these running? Doctor Potosi needs to know.’
‘For a while. We gave lifts priority both here and on the roof as we fixed the generators up there. She should be using both shafts to get as many people up as possible.’
‘That’s what she’s doing. They’ll clear this floor next then the one above. Everyone’s going up to the tenth level, then out on the roof when Richard says. He’s talking about getting Biddy McKinney there with the chopper.’
‘Fine. I estimate that we can keep things moving from here for a while, then. I don’t think the flood water will reach this high. The hospital’s on too much of a slope. It’ll flood the lower floor and run on down the hill.’
‘True. But we’re just about to be hit by a million tons of mud. And that, more than likely, will take the hospital and all of us within it straight down the hill as well. It will probably smash up the lifts one way or another.’