Free 360 Degrees Longitude by John Higham Page B

think.”
    I remembered him from the park as well. He was eating what looked like a burrito. Being burrito deprived can be a dangerous thing for a California boy, especially when fed a steady stream of plain ham sandwiches. I had wanted to mug him and steal the burrito, but now I was grateful that I had suppressed the urge.
    By this time Katrina had grudgingly given up some other information. Her wrist hurt as well, and she couldn’t move it.
    â€œHer leg does not appear to be broken,” Dr. Julen said, “as there is no swelling, but to be sure, we should x-ray both her wrist and her leg.”
    Doctor Julen disappeared with Katrina, and after what seemed like an eternity, he came back into the waiting area and announced, “It is broken.”
    September and I looked at each other for several seconds, the silence thundering in our ears. After a decade of anticipation, our once-in-a-lifetime journey was doing a serious Ctrl-Alt-Delete maneuver.
    Jordan walked into the x-ray room and hopped up onto the examining table next to his sister. Katrina’s face was unreadable. Dr. Julen held up the X-ray for us to see. Katrina turned her head from the X-ray as if denial would make it all go away. Katrina’s leg was broken below the knee, and not just broken, but to my eyes, her tibia looked shattered.There was, however, no sign of a break in her wrist; it was only sprained.
    â€œWith this kind of break, it is very important to immobilize the leg at the knee,” explained Dr. Julen.
    â€œBut doctor,” I said, “the break is below the knee.”
    He merely repeated what he had just said, and then as if he was reading my mind, “No cycling until her cast is removed. No swimming or getting the cast wet, either.”
    I stood there with my mouth moving, but no sound coming out, like a fish out of water gasping for breath. September came to my rescue. “And how long will that be?” she asked.
    â€œAt least six weeks. For a break this bad, possibly eight.” The good doctor was kind as he spoke these words, but he didn’t sugarcoat his diagnosis.
    Later, after Katrina’s cast was in place, a nurse brought a set of crutches. Katrina tried them, but it was impossible for her to use them with her wrist in its current condition.
    Dr. Julen asked, “When do you go home? I would like to see Katrina in 24 hours, and she needs to have a follow-up visit in seven days.” Of course we had planned on leaving Zermatt that very day. After some explanation about our situation, we got Dr. Julen to consent to a visit in twenty-four hours and again in four days.
    Walking out of the office, I looked down the street and noted the only car I ever saw in Zermatt—a rugged red four-wheel drive with a red cross on it and EMERGENCY RESCUE written in German, French, and Italian on the door.
    â€¢ • •
    It was late afternoon when we returned to our campground; our tandems were where we had left them, all packed and ready to go. The spot of grass where our tent had been that morning was still flattened. I looked around feeling helpless. Jordan broke the silence. “I’m hungry.”
    It had been a long time since breakfast and reality was just now starting to come crashing down. September and I wanted to sit down and feel sorry for ourselves, but there was nowhere to sit. Katrina could not stand for long and as she couldn’t sit cross-legged with her cast, she just lay down in the grass for want of a proper chair.
    The simple task of going to get some dinner was on the verge of overwhelming us. It was then I noted September looking at Katrina lying in the grass, crutches by her side and a cast up to her thigh. Katrina had been stoic all day—she hadn’t once complained about pain and had not shed a single tear. Reality had just hit hard and she was now lying in the grass, her little body uncontrollably wracked with sobs; not from physical pain, but from the