by Becky Wicks
‘I hope so,’ Ryan told her as their boat pulled up alongside the grassy bank and several guys from the village and the camp helped to pull them in. He felt the rain start to spit on his arms.
‘She’s still in a lot of pain,’ Evan said as Ryan jumped onto the bank.
He ran to the next boat with him and stepped carefully down to go alongside the woman. She looked to be in her fifties, pale and trembling with pain. A man, possibly her husband, was holding her hand beside the makeshift stretcher, looking equally pale. Another of Ryan’s volunteers was holding her head and neck in place.
‘We’ve stabilised her. The helicopter can’t get to us yet—the wind is too strong.’ Evan crouched down beside him. ‘We’re hoping it’s not a herniated disc.’
‘Can she feel her legs?’ Ryan reached for the woman’s other hand. ‘I’m here...you’re going to be OK,’ he told her, before remembering that she probably only understood Spanish. He said it again in broken Spanish and she nodded, then howled out in pain.
‘She can feel them, but she says she feels tingling, which isn’t good. We’ve given her some anti-inflammatories, but we don’t have any ice.’
‘She’ll need an MRI,’ Ryan said, as the wind screamed like a banshee in his ears.
He was already having flashbacks to what had happened in Patagonia, when the aircraft hadn’t been able to take off or land in the storm. He knew Evan probably was, too.
Before he knew it Madeline was stepping down beside him, carrying something—a plastic sheet from their boat. She handed him one corner, motioning for him to make a cover with it to put over the woman.
‘Thank you,’ he said, moving fast to tie it up.
Madeline took the other end, just as a cameraman appeared from nowhere and started capturing their every move.
‘This rain’s going to get worse,’ he said.
‘Can I do anything else?’ she asked, as he watched a huge raindrop cruise down her nose.
‘You can round up all these spectators and get them out of here,’ Evan replied, pointing at the crowd, still watching, all agog. ‘We need everyone out of here so the helicopter can land.’
As he spoke, the wind picked up yet another notch and rocked the boat, but Madeline was already climbing back up to the riverbank, calling out in Spanish.
‘Is there any language she can’t speak?’ Evan said to Ryan, half laughing in spite of the situation. Ryan shrugged, but inside he was reeling. So much for the nurse who didn’t want to be a nurse.
Evan’s radio buzzed again. Ryan glanced up at Madeline, now herding people out of the clearing. He could see some of his crew moving quickly to help her. She didn’t seem particularly fazed that they’d only just arrived in the middle of nowhere and a first-class storm was building up strength around them.
‘The helicopter’s managed to take off,’ Evan said in relief. ‘We’ll have to take her to Manaus—it’s the closest.’
A tree creaked close by in the wind and Ryan felt the woman grabbing his hand even harder as she wailed again. She was in so much pain but there was nothing more they could do right now. She needed ice—which they didn’t have—and it was important to keep her conscious, so she could recount what she was and wasn’t feeling. He prayed to God it wasn’t a herniated disc, or worse.
Eventually the helicopter whirred into sight, scattering the leaves on the ground around them. Thunder crashed in the distance, and then came even closer, almost drowning out the noise of the blades. Ryan looked on in dismay as he realised it might be too windy for it to land.
Madeline was running towards them again now and his heart lurched at the sight. ‘Get out of the way!’ he yelled at her, realising how unsteady in the sky the helicopter was.
But Madeline was still running—right underneath it. His heart almost stopped as the helicopter lurched and then lifted again. She reached them, panting. She was soaked through, but was holding some cushions from the camp. Ryan grabbed her arm, pulling her into the boat, under the plastic shelter they’d created.
‘What were you doing?’
‘She’ll need these—there was nothing else around here that I could see...’
‘I said don’t do anything stupid—weren’t you listening?’ His hand was still around her arm as the helicopter finally descended in the clearing behind them.
Her eyes were wide, incredulous. ‘It wasn’t anywhere near me! The pilot saw me!’
‘Goddammit, Maddy.’
‘I’m helping you! I thought that was what you wanted?’
‘She is helping us,’ Evan confirmed, before motioning to the volunteer and Ryan to help him lift the stretcher carefully out from under the shelter.
It was very humid and the thunder crashed again, just after a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. The pilot turned off the engine.
Ryan dropped Madeline’s arm. ‘Let’s go!’ he yelled at Evan, and together they moved as quickly and smoothly as they could, while the woman continued to moan, wail and whimper.
Madeline was with them, speaking in quick Spanish, trying to comfort her, hurrying beside them in the rain.
They were all but drowned rats by the time they made it to the helicopter, but Ryan noticed Madeline didn’t flinch or look away from the woman once. They loaded her and her husband into the back of the helicopter in the thrashing rain, taking one seat out in order to make the stretcher fit.
‘Are you OK to go?’ Ryan asked Evan.
He knew he would be of better use to the people at camp, and he realised that he didn’t want to leave Madeline. God knew what else she might try and do.
‘Of course, doc,’ Evan said, climbing into the back with another cameraman.
The volunteer got into the front and Ryan pulled Madeline back against him as the engine started up again, her hair whipping his face.
‘Wait—take these,’ she said, breaking free and handing Evan the cushions.
He took them appreciatively and used them as padding around the woman’s side, still being careful not to move her. Ryan knew she’d be moved anyway, thanks to the juddering of the helicopter in this weather. He wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea to fly, but some risks were worth taking. The heat and humidity in the jungle tended to accelerate people’s injuries.
He guided Madeline away quickly by the elbow as the blades began to whir again. They turned around just in time to see the helicopter rise, then drop back onto the grass.
Madeline gasped.
‘Damn,’ Ryan cursed. ‘They can’t take off in this storm.’
‘She needs a hospital,’ Madeline said.
‘I know, but we’ll just have to wait it out. It won’t last long—these storms never do. Where’s our stuff?’
‘My bags and yours? They were taken to the camp.’ She brushed her wet hair back from her face with her hand.
‘Go find them and get warm and dry—there’s nothing else you can do.’
He wanted her safe. Not out here in the middle of a storm. He was already viewing her as a liability. He knew it was unfair of him, but Madeline Savoia definitely had a stubborn streak. He watched as she turned and did as he’d ordered, albeit reluctantly, and felt some modicum of relief as one weight at least was lifted from his shoulders.
It took what felt like an eternity to get the helicopter off the ground, and when Ryan made it through to his team he was wet and shivering himself. The camp was a frenzy of action, and as he signed some documents on a clipboard thrust suddenly under his nose he noticed Madeline helping someone to move the boxes of bananas and the other stuff that had obviously been moved in from their boat.
‘Ryan, how did it go?’
It was Mark Bailey—up in his face, forcing his eyes away from her. Mark was a young doctor who’d been with them for three seasons of Medical Extremes. He was well liked around the place—and even more so on Instagram.
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‘They’re en route to the hospital—finally. Fingers crossed the storm doesn’t start up again.’
‘Looks like it’s stopping,’ Mark said.
‘No other emergencies so far?’
Ryan adjusted his hat as he walked with him, trying not to look at Madeline again. He was surprised she was out of her tent. She was talking to people and he hadn’t even made any introductions yet. Then again, she did seem to be a person who took the initiative. Sometimes too much initiative.
‘A couple this morning—one sprained wrist and a spider bite. Steady trickles for general check-ups and queries all day. We know the other villagers are making their way over now word that we’re here has spread up the river, so we’re leaving Maria stationed for any strays tonight and planning on an early start tomorrow.’
‘Good call.’
Ryan was glad for Mark’s organisational skills, as well as everything else. He noticed that the producer was approaching Madeline, leading her away behind one of the stations.
The camp comprised four stations. One was simply a raised platform, on which stood three foldable tables. There his team doled out vitamins and basic medication, and assessed the symptoms of those seeking other medical attention. Everyone who needed care went there first. With the rain and the storm there were only three people in the line now, waiting to be seen.
The other three stations were for treatment, so they held a couple of beds and chairs, with boxes of fresh sheets, gauze and other equipment stacked in all corners.
Would Madeline know what to do with all this, from her nursing days? he wondered. He knew he had to think of more tasks for her. He’d witnessed her instinctual need to help on more than one occasion now, and all this might make her tired...perhaps too tired to ask for many details for that memoir...
He clenched his fists to his sides as Josephine’s face flashed before his eyes.
Don’t think about it.
In one of the stations one of his volunteers from Chicago—a fifty-something half-Japanese lady called Maria—was talking to two young children on a plastic sheet on the floor. The kids were young members of the local tribe, no older than seven years old. Often the kids in these remote places gathered around out of excitement at having new people to play with.
‘Good to see you, Ryan,’ Maria called out, and the barefoot children giggled and waved in their ragged, faded clothing.
He waved back. Then, content that his staff had everything under control, he turned in the direction of the sleeping quarters. The rain was only spitting now.
He found Madeline unpacking her bags, hunched over on the floor of her small green tent.
‘Did you find the mini-bar OK?’ he asked from the canvas doorway.
She turned around in surprise, still on all fours. The tent wasn’t exactly big enough to stand up in.
A sheen of perspiration was causing her face to glisten and her long wet hair was stuck in strands to the side of her face. She obviously hadn’t yet found time to get dried off. She got to her knees, swiped at her forehead and gestured around her.
‘Five-star,’ she said, smiling. Then her expression changed. ‘How’s that patient? Do you think she’ll be OK?’
‘They’re on the way to the hospital—we’ll know more once they do some tests,’ he said. He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you for your help. I’m sorry if I sounded a little harsh back there. You...you freaked me out for a second.’
‘Why?’
‘You can’t just run under helicopters, Maddy. You’re not Indiana Jones.’
She grimaced. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think. And, yes, the mini-bar is well stocked, thanks.’ She reached for a bottle of water that was poking out of her backpack and held it up.
Her tent, which had been set up prior to her arrival, complete with sleeping bag, blankets and a prized inflatable mattress, was luxurious compared to where most of the people in the tribe and surrounding villages slept.
‘We have someone covering emergencies for now,’ he told her, ‘but with any luck things will be slow until the morning.’
‘Great—well, maybe we can work on the memoir some more?’ She stepped out of the open doorway and stood beside him. ‘Where are you sleeping?’
He looked behind him. No one was around. ‘Want to see?’
‘OK.’
He led them past a line of tents—all for the crew—and past the makeshift fire they often gathered around in the evenings. The rain was less impactful there, thanks to the thickness of the leaves and branches overhead, but the wind was still muttering all around them. He put his pack on the mossy floor, crouched down and pulled out his prized possession. Holding it in his hands he stood and looked around, studying his surroundings.
‘Where to go...? Where to go...?’
‘Where to go with what?’
Madeline looked amused. She also looked sexy as hell, he realised with some annoyance, in her Medical Extremes tank top and no make-up. She wore rain pretty well, too, he decided, remembering when he’d first met her. It seemed like months ago already.
He walked to a nearby tree and patted it, then shook it a little. It didn’t move. Perfect.
‘Help me with this,’ he said, holding out one end of his hammock.
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. ‘You’re not serious? You’re not sleeping in a hammock out here in the rain?’
He wrapped one end of it expertly round the tree, motioning for her to walk with her end to the next one. ‘Probably not in the rain, but I like to have my spot set up.’
‘But you can’t sleep out here anyway, can you? What about snakes?’
‘Snakes like the ground.’
‘Snakes like trees, too. You’re going to wrestle one for bed space, are you, Indiana Jones?’
He grinned. ‘I’ll be careful.’
She rolled her eyes.
‘I like a quiet place to read. I might even read one of your books. Feel free to use it, too, if you need to get away. I’m afraid there’s no socket for your laptop, though.’
He finished attaching the hammock to the trees, stepped back and crossed his arms, admiring his handiwork.
‘Looks good, if I do say so myself. It’s the best you can get. We don’t mess around out here.’
Madeline was still looking at him as if he was crazy, tapping on a fallen branch with her boot. She looked away for a second, then, ‘You have one of my books?’
He nodded, walking back to the hammock and sitting in it, facing her. ‘Your “geopolitical thriller”. It sounded interesting, and I got a good deal for it on my e-reader.’
She was blushing now.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you want me to read it?’
‘No, it’s not that...’
‘I felt I should know some of your work, seeing as you’re here to observe mine. Fair’s fair.’
He stood up. A gust of wind threw itself at the hammock and caused it to turn over on itself. More raindrops started to splatter on their skin and Ryan quickly zipped his bag up and hoisted it back over his shoulder.
‘We should go. Have you seen the dining hall yet?’
‘No, I’ve not seen anything else. The producer got called away.’
‘OK—well, in that case, let me be your jungle guide, Jane.’
With his hand on the warm small of her back, Ryan guided her towards camp. On the way he noted without saying a word that his tent had been set up just one along from Madeline’s, with maybe three feet between them...
The dining hall was a basic set-up, beyond the tents and makeshift toilets, which looked a lot like a giant chicken coop for humans. A wooden platform was covered only by a roof thatched with palm fronds to stop the rain getting in. Mosquito mesh stretched between wooden posts on all sides, creating walls.
He opened the mesh door, letting her ste
p through ahead of him as she brushed the rain off her arms with her hands. Several people waved at them as they entered, but Ryan steered Madeline to where a volunteer was serving portions of white rice and boiled vegetables onto plastic plates from a huge silver pot. The boxes of bananas she’d helped to carry were stacked at either side.
‘Gourmet cuisine from now on,’ he said, handing her a plate.
‘I don’t mind rice,’ Madeline said, signalling for another scoop from the kindly lady behind the table.
‘You won’t be saying that in three weeks’ time. Better get used to these, too.’
He picked up a banana and balanced it on the side of her plate beside the rice. She didn’t object.
Ryan guided her to the end of one of the long communal tables, where piles of cutlery had been dropped haphazardly into a pile in the middle. He noted Pablo and Jake in the corner, filming them as they took a seat on the bench. The rain was hammering hard on the roof again now, making a racket on the mesh. The air smelled of DEET and damp foliage and the space was filled with quiet chatter and the clanging of cutlery.
Madeline picked up a fork opposite him, and he was about to take a bite out of a piece of boiled carrot when something large and brown landed on the table—right between their plates.
Madeline screamed and jumped up from the bench. Her plate of food went flying.
Ryan jumped up, too, as everyone else started scrambling backwards. ‘Tarantula,’ he said, trying to sound calm.
Madeline was beside him now, and her face was a shade of white he’d rarely seen. She had both hands over her mouth, as though to muffle more screams, and was trying her best to hide behind him.
‘Make that two tarantulas,’ he said, peering closer at the fuzzy ball that was now untangling itself right by the condiments basket.
He felt her hand on his shoulder, clenching on his shirt.
‘They nest in the thatch,’ he said, pointing upwards as Jake zoomed his camera in on the hairy spiders, sitting dazed on the table where they’d fallen. ‘They must have been mating and forgotten how to hold on! I’m surprised they’re still alive.’