“And we were both well trained in SERE escape and evasion tactics.”
“All of it conspired to get our asses out of that sling.”
They chuckled together, giving each other knowing looks.
“Are you turning into a prune?” Dev teased, rising to his full height, water running off his body.
Holding up her hands, she muttered, “I am a prune, Mitchell.”
“Grab my hand,” he said, offering it to her, his foot on the step that led out of the hot tub.
Willingly, Andy did, allowing him to help her stand. She felt the strength of his fingers wrap around hers, though they didn’t squeeze them too hard, as many men had in the past when they’d grabbed her hand. For a second, she drowned in his shadowed eyes, seeing the yearning in them, feeling the heat of his hand as the water sluiced off between them. Once out of the tub, he released her and gave her one of the fluffy bath towels. They were large enough to literally wrap up in. Both had brought terrycloth robes, however, so they used them to pat off the water. Dev took her blue robe and held it open so she could shrug into it, and she thanked him. Then she turned around and did the same thing for him. They worked so well together on a nonverbal level that Andy wanted it to continue to be like this forever. She saw him head to the door and open it for her. Always the gentleman, a throwback gesture she appreciated.
“I have an idea,” he told her as she passed by him and out into the carpeted hall.
“What?” She turned and halted, watching him close the door to the spa area.
Turning, Dev said in a low, quiet voice, “I like what we have, Andy. What do you think about learning to be good friends again? Like we were out there in the Sandbox?”
“Friendship is a great place to start,” she agreed, falling into step with him as they ambled down the hall toward the elevator. “There are all kinds of good reasons to start there. You’re okay with that?”
“Better than okay. I’ve spent a lot of nights thinking about us. And if we can have a friendship? Then anything is possible beyond that. My parents grew up next door to each other in Ireland. They were best friends throughout their school years. Later, they got married. And to this day, they’re still the best of friends.”
She slowed and pressed the elevator button, the brass doors soon sliding open. “I’m just amazed at the similarity between our two families,” she confided, stepping aside so he could get in. She pressed the second-floor button, and the doors whooshed closed. “My parents met at a soup kitchen and food bank charity near Princeton, where my dad was going to school. They volunteered their time on weekends, and that’s how they became fast friends. It was only later on, well into a year or so, before my dad had a talk with Mom about their friendship.”
“They didn’t get married for six years, though, as I understand it.”
“That’s right,” Andy said, feeling the elevator halt, the doors opening to the second floor. “They both wanted their master’s degrees and decided to do that first and then start their lives together.”
“Did they live together, though?”
“Yes, after the first year, they agreed to work at their relationship. Mom’s apartment was very close to the university and he moved in with her. My dad told me one time that it saved him a lot of money his folks didn’t have to keep him at Princeton. He had scholarships, but none of them paid for his dorm room or food.”
“So?” he said, ambling at her side, “they had a friendship that grew into a marriage. That’s a sound plan.”
“Exactly.” She fished her card key from the pocket of her robe as she halted at her door. On the opposite side of the hall was Dev’s condo. “It taught me that it was okay to wait.” She pushed the door open.
Dev opened the door and placed his foot next to it, devoting his attention to her. “How about if we have any time of our own this summer, we start hiking together? Maybe even pitch a tent and stay overnight in the mountains? Continue to learn and earn each other’s friendship and trust?”
“That,” she said, smiling, “sounds wonderful. I really need to stay in shape, and hiking is far preferable to a gym. I like your idea.”
“Good,” Dev said, “now all we have to do is find those windows of opportunity and do it.”
Her smile grew. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll be on the lookout for them.”
Giving her a self-satisfied smile, he rumbled, “Got that right. Night, Andy. Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” she whispered, wanting to kiss him but afraid. She moved into her condo. Andy was sure her dreams would be torrid that night.
Chapter Thirteen
July 10
Tuesday
Dev counted this to be his lucky two days. It was his boss, Pete Turner, who made out the monthly flight schedule for himself, Andy, Alma, Tucker and Grace. The next two days he and Andy were assigned together. The pilots all rotated in pairs with one another and never with the same person on one forty-eight-hour period. He was the pilot-in-command today. Tomorrow, Andy would take the right-hand seat and be flying the Black Hawk. She sat in the copilot seat, dealing with navigation, radio and some throttle work. In the back was Larry Fowler, their crew chief and paramedic. They’d gotten a call into their unit at 0600 that a big rig had flipped over in the southern part of the valley on Highway 89, between Fairview and Smoot. It was about ten miles away from where they were taking off. The truck driver was pinned and he’d called it in on his cell phone.
As they lifted off from the airport, he could see two fire engines and an ambulance already speeding down the highway toward the crash, lights flashing and sirens screaming. That was sure to wake up folks who were sleeping in if they lived near Highway 89. The morning was cool, the sky clear with no breeze. It was perfect flight weather. Larry was getting everything set up on one of the two cots that were one above the other on the side of the helo. He was responsible for getting all the medical items ready in case the truck driver had suffered injury. Larry had placed an IV on a hook on the top cot, in case the trucker was losing blood. In an anchored ice chest, they had blood for transfusion, if necessary.
His mind was on the business of flying. There were electric lines on the right side of the highway as they passed the ambulance and firetrucks. The Hawk could go damned fast and they would arrive first at the scene. In the summer, hot-air balloons were up in the early dawn hours because the air was smooth and quiet.
“Balloon ten o’clock,” Andy said into the mic near her lips, and lifted her Nomex gloved hand, pointing in that direction.
“Roger,” Dev said, glancing to where she indicated. He spotted a green-and-yellow-striped one. It was coming up from Red Tail Ranch, the owners of whom offered hot-air balloon rides to tourists traveling through the valley toward the Salt River Range, part of their seventy-five-thousand-acre ranch. It was another way for locals struggling to stay in the valley. It was owned by the Dvorak family, a third-generation family living in the valley. Doug and Jenny were now in charge of continuing its legacy. Doug had been in the Army for four years, deployed to the Middle East, and was a renowned helicopter mechanic. He had gotten his civilian balloon pilot license when he returned from the military, taken over the reins of the ranch with Jenny, his parents ratcheting down their hard work, with the next generation taking over. Doug had developed his balloon flying skills; it was a way to make extra money, other than from cattle grass leases, during the summer. Every penny counted. Now, the owners had a small office inside the airport, touting their balloon rides. He’d talked to Doug yesterday at Kassie’s Café and found out that since the airport had opened, their balloon ride trips had doubled.
“Wonder how many passengers Doug has with him?” Dev asked.
Andy leaned over, pulling the set of binoculars from the side pocket of her seat. She lifted them to her eyes, aimed at the balloon ascending from the ranch on her left. “Hmmm, looks like he’s got six in the basket.”
“Good,” Larry chimed in from the rear of the helo, “that�
��s money in the kitty for them.”
“Hey, you two have no idea how much Doug and Jenny rely on what they make during the summer months. There were some years when it paid the property taxes on their land,” Andy said.
“This airport is breathing new life into the valley,” Dev agreed. He craned his neck. “Andy? I think I see the rig along the road. Get your eyes on it. Tell us what you see.”
“Roger that,” and she pulled the binoculars up. “Smoke coming from the engine. No fire. At least, not yet. The truck is on its left side, the driver’s side. I don’t see the driver. The driver’s window is broken.”
“That’s why he’s pinned,” Larry said, coming and kneeling between the two seats, gloved hands on the tops of each of them.
“Yeah,” Dev said.
“Two civilian cars had pulled off to help,” she reported. “They’re standing there, unsure what to do.”
“Once we get there,” Larry said, “Andy, will you come with me? I want you to get those people back to a safe distance. A battery can explode and start a fire.”
“Or it can set the fuel on fire, and that truck has two forty-gallon tanks just behind the cab,” Dev warned grimly.
“Roger, I’ll go with you, Larry.”
“Roger that. Thanks.”
Dev began their descent, bringing the Hawk in on the same side as the truck, but far enough away from it so if it did explode, it wouldn’t harm them or destroy the helo. They were all business now. Andy called into the medevac unit dispatcher, Lanny Jenkins, reporting their status and that they were landing.
The Hawk descended in the desolate area that reminded Andy of desert terrain, and she made sure there were no trees or possible power or electric lines nearby. Larry was looking out the starboard window and door, too, another set of experienced, valuable eyes on the landing zone coming up.
“All clear,” he announced.
“All clear,” Andy said.
“Roger,” Dev said.
In moments, they were on the ground. Dev saw Larry pushing the throttles, located on the ceiling above and between them, into an idle position. They would never cut the engines, only to idle.
“Egress,” he ordered them.
Larry unlocked and slid the door open. The four blades whooshed above them, slowing down to the point where dust was no longer being kicked up in billowing yellow clouds around them. As soon as he could see, he gestured to Andy to follow him. He hitched a large, heavy paramedic pack onto his back, settling the straps against his shoulders.
Andy bailed out, and they moved around the nose of the Black Hawk at a quick trot, heading toward the highway in the distance, where the eighteen-wheeler was overturned. She saw five more cars parked on the other side, opposite the truck, people getting out. None of them seemed to realize they were in a highly volatile and dangerous situation.
“Fire trucks and ambulance five minutes out,” Dev informed them.
“Roger,” Andy huffed.
“That’s good,” Larry said, lengthening his stride, leaping over the small, dry ditch, landing on the berm of the highway. “Do your best to get those people away from the site. When the fire engines arrive, the chief will have a couple of his men cordon off the area. And then, if I need help, I’ll call you.”
“Will do,” Andy said between breaths. She wasn’t as tall as Larry and was losing ground to him.
She peeled off, heading for the six people huddled near the cab of the truck. Larry went to the underside of the truck, on its side. Like a spider, he climbed upward, grabbing what he could to get him to the top of the cab so he could see what had to be done next.
Still wearing her helmet, Andy lifted her hands, making sharp gestures for the people to move quickly away from the truck. They instantly complied, seeing Larry up on top.
Dev sat in the helo, as was standard operating procedure. One never left a helicopter on idle without a pilot in the cockpit. He watched worriedly, knowing full well all the things that could go wrong. He had landed on the underside of the truck, so he couldn’t see what the firefighters, who had just arrived, were doing. He knew they’d string out hose and get the nozzle ready to use. Another firefighter would begin to check out the two huge gasoline tanks on the truck to see if they were leaking fluid, another potential fire hazard.
Some relief went through him as he saw a firefighter joining the gathering of curious automobile drivers and getting them far, far away from the dangerous situation.
“Hey, Andy,” Larry called, “can you climb up here and help me? I need a second pair of hands.”
“Roger that,” she said, turning, then running across the highway.
Dev saw two sheriff’s cruisers arrive. They stopped traffic about a quarter of a mile north and south of the wreck. He watched, seeing Andy trotting around the end of the rig and then rapidly climbing up the superstructure of the truck to the top of the cab.
His heart started beating harder as he saw her gingerly grab the frame of the truck’s broken front window, scoot down and disappear from his view. Some of his trepidation left as he saw hoses being dragged from the two fire engines on the opposite side of the highway. That meant there might be leaking from one or both gas tank, and they were going to spray into the puddles gathering below to wash it away with the water, lessening the likelihood of an explosion occurring.
No auto accident was safe. Not one. The battery was always a major, deadly threat, and most people stopping to try to help a motorist who had crashed or needed help getting out of the vehicle never realized that. More batteries exploded in such situations, injuring all those who were nearby, never mind the acid that was thrown into the air and striking an unsuspecting civilian being a Good Samaritan. He worried about his crew. He tried to put his heart aside in this situation, not wanting Andy in such a circumstance but knowing she was a natural-born risk-taker and would, without a second thought, put herself in harm’s way to save someone else. It was a part of her nature, and he understood that. But he didn’t like it. Wishing he could see what was going on, frustrated, he waited for tense exchanges between Larry and Andy.
Andy hovered in a crouch near Larry. He was half into the cab, talking to the driver, who was conscious and still belted in, unable to get him free of it. Right now, he was cutting through it with a small saw he kept in his paramedic pack, which was laying open nearby, on the hood. She had her hand on the belt that had captured the driver’s shoulder. His name was Eddy, they had learned, and he was in his late fifties, well over 250 pounds and balding. He looked scared as fumes continued to drift heavily into the cab.
It took sheer brute physical force to saw through the thick nylon harness. When it did, the man fell against the door, which was against the asphalt of the highway, outside the cab. His cry told Andy he was injured. Larry handed her the saw and she put it back in his pack, waiting for his next instruction.
“Andy, can you get down into the cab? You’re small enough to get through the broken windshield area.”
“Yeah,” she said, taking off her helmet and setting it aside. Her hair was in a ponytail, so it would be out of the way. She would no longer have radio contact with anyone, only Larry’s instructions above her.
“I need to get Eddy sitting up. We have to assess his condition before we try to get the passenger-side door open. There will be firefighters working on the door in a moment.”
She heard metallic thumping sounds on the door. It sounded jammed shut. Sitting down after putting a small blanket across the jagged area where the glass remained here and there on the lower windshield frame, she eased down and into the cab. Eddy was trying to sit up.
“Hold on, Eddy,” she told him. “Don’t move yet. Let me get over to you. My name’s Andy and I’m here to help you.”
He was breathing hard, sweat running down his face. “Yeah, yeah, Andy . . . it’s my shoulder. You’re too small to help me. It hurts like hell. I can’t use it. I’m sorry, but I can’t get up.”
Andy purposely kept
her voice soft and soothing. “Eddy, it’s okay that I’m small. I’ll help you once I get the safety latch unbuckled so we can get the strap across your hips released.” She saw him sag back, his hand on his left shoulder, grimacing, teeth clenched to stop from crying out.
Once in a position over him, her foot on the console, the other near Eddy’s right shoulder, Larry handed her the small saw. She quickly and efficiently sawed through the nylon belt. “He’s fully released now,” she called, turning her head to Larry, who was stretched across the frame, watching her.
“Great,” he praised, taking the saw from her and dropping it into his pack. “Eddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Andy’s going to help you sit up now. She’s stronger than you think. I can’t grab your left arm because that shoulder is injured. I could do more damage.”
Eddy was huffing and struggling, but it was no use. Between his weight and the gravity, he was stuck in that position. “I’m not gonna be much help,” he apologized, giving them a mournful look. “I don’t think you can move me, squirt. You’re way too small to do it by yourself.”
“Squirt? Is that my new nickname?” she teased, grinning down at him.
“Yeah, I think it is,” he whispered, shutting his eyes against the pain.
“No worries,” Andy reassured him. She planted her right boot on the dashboard, leaning down on her left knee next to his right hip. “I’m going to put one arm around your back and under your left armpit, Eddy. With my right hand, I’m going to come around the front of your chest and into your left armpit. I’m going to lock my hands, and then I’m going to slowly pull you up toward me. Use your legs and try to move your butt as I haul upward; try for a sitting position. Okay?”
He gave her a stare. “I’m twice your weight, squirt.”
She gave him a feral grin. “Ask Larry. I’m small but mighty. Okay, let’s do this, pardner . . .”
Andy knew how to use her legs, which were strong and immovable where they were placed, and pulled upward, using them like pistons. She slowly hauled Eddy up into a sitting position. It happened seamlessly, all of them working together.
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