Wildland

by Rebecca Hodge

Kat was next, and three attendants carefully eased her onto the next stretcher in line. The same routine—a quick check and an oxygen mask—before they jogged toward the elevators at the far end of the roof.

  “Now the boy,” New Jersey said.

  “Nirav, we’re at the hospital.” Malcolm could at least talk to him now that the helicopter engines were silent, but Nirav didn’t seem to hear. “Tye needs to stay here.” Malcolm eased the puppy out of Nirav’s grasp and placed him in Pete’s arms. Eager hands lifted Nirav onto the remaining stretcher, and Malcolm scrambled out behind him. One of the remaining nurses started Nirav on oxygen, her movements fast and urgent, and they started off.

  For the first time that day, Malcolm wasn’t responsible for anything that was happening, and the rigid control he’d maintained since he’d awoken to smoke crumbled as he walked at Nirav’s side and they took their turn in the elevator.

  A new, desperate fear swamped him. Nirav was safe now, wasn’t he? He looked heartbreakingly small and helpless in the midst of all this bustle. Malcolm held his hand, but Nirav didn’t hold back, his fingers slack. His eyes were open, but they had sunk deep into his skull, and he still didn’t seem to be taking in anything that was going on.

  The elevator whisked them down to a cavernous white room with desks and monitors in the middle and curtained-off cubicles along the edges. One with partially open curtains held Trip, lying there with his leg propped on pillows and multiple fluid bags hanging above him. The attendant rolled Nirav into an empty cubicle a few spaces down the row and gestured Malcolm toward a chair crammed next to the bed.

  With that, the medical whirlwind began. Oxygen, blood draws, IV lines. Heart monitors, chest X-rays. Multiple people wielding stethoscopes, thermometers, blood pressure cuffs, and those gadgets for looking at eyes.

  “You need to get that arm looked at.”

  Half a dozen people said it as they bustled in and out, but Malcolm shook his head every time. “Not until I know more about my son.” The throbbing pain from his arm was background noise compared to the agony of his worry.

  This place had all the bells and whistles, but except for the high-tech, it wasn’t all that different from a field hospital. Intense, hardworking people, moving fast, making choices. As a patient in the field, he had known he was in good hands. As a parent, he had more doubts. “It’s okay, Nirav. I’m right here. It will all be okay.” His son had to be all right. Simply had to.

  * * *

  Malcolm stepped out of the cubicle to stretch. It had been a challenging few hours. Tests. Medical history. Conversations with the doctors. Nirav’s breathing continued to ease, and he’d fallen into a deep sleep. He lay cocooned in warm blankets with the steady reassuring beep of the heart monitor serving as an unlikely lullaby.

  Scott stood at the nurse’s station, hanging up the phone, and Malcolm walked over to him.

  “How’s Lily?”

  Scott made an I’m-not-quite-sure face. He still wore stiff, mud-caked pants, but someone had given him a clean scrub shirt, and a pair of hospital socks had replaced his one-shoe-on-one-shoe-off tilt. It looked like he’d doused his head in a bathroom sink, but there were still traces of muck in his hair. “Sleeping. They say she’s as good as can be expected, but then the next minute they start talking about pneumonia and hypoxia and all kinds of awful-sounding shit. They’re even talking about parasites from drinking the pond water. Did they tell you it would be two or three days before they know whether complications are going to set in?”

  “Yes. Same thing for Nirav. All of it.” Well, not exactly the same. Nirav’s chest X-rays had shown significant scar tissue in his lungs, probably a result of exposure to chemicals in the train accident fire when he was younger. The doctors were ultra-cautious in everything they said.

  Two or three days before Nirav would be out of danger. Two or three days of waiting and watching and worrying. Not fair. Rescuing Nirav was supposed to be the win. Malcolm hadn’t realized fatherhood could tear into his soul this way. He wasn’t sure he could face it.

  Scott ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell Jennifer. I just tried to call. Ended up leaving a message, telling her to call me here. My cell phone was in my pocket when I went down to the pond. It’s trashed.”

  “You’ll find the right words when she calls.”

  Scott snorted. “Right words? I never have the right words. It’s why we got divorced.” His voice dragged, sad and discouraged. His face looked tired and worried.

  “Scott, you found them. You.”

  Scott’s head came up, his attention focused.

  “Kat worked a miracle, but if you hadn’t found them in that pond …” Malcolm couldn’t even think the rest of that sentence. He held out his good hand for an awkward left-handed handshake. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my son. If your ex gives you a hard time, you send her to me.”

  Scott seized his hand in a tight grip. “You were the one who knew what he was doing. I was scared shitless every minute.” He turned Malcolm loose. “It took all three of us. Do you know how Kat’s doing?”

  “Apparently still unconscious. They’re trying to find her daughter. The doctor wouldn’t say anything more than that.” Kat had come to these mountains believing her biggest challenge would be a decision about cancer treatment, and instead she had saved these children. Walked out through a fire. Done an incredible job. She’d done all that even knowing she herself might not have much of a future.

  They both turned toward the cubicle where she lay, but all they could see was a steady parade of blue-scrub hospital people, hustling in and out.

  She’d saved his son. It was a debt he’d never be able to repay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  THURSDAY, A WEEK AFTER THE FIRE, 11:00 AM

  It was a full seven days before Malcolm saw Kat again.

  That week would forever remain a blur, a hospital circus staffed by a dizzying swirl of strangers, all focused solely on helping his son. Pediatrician, pulmonologist, parasitologist, radiologist, hospitalist. Nurse, physician assistant, respiratory therapist, nurse’s aide, transport assistant. All dressed alike, all coming on shift or going off shift, far too many to keep straight. They were each incredibly kind, but they moved fast, logging in data, checking off checklists, hustling onward. Malcolm gave up trying to keep track and simply categorized them all as them.

  In the early days, Nirav drifted in and out of consciousness. He looked like a shrunken doll, helpless and lost in the white expanse of his tall hospital bed, too frail for all the equipment that surrounded him. Malcolm held his hand. Talked of quiet nothings. Most of the time, he just sat and watched his son gasp his way through each ragged inhalation. “I’m here, Nirav. I’m here.” He would never take that for granted.

  In the midst of it all, Malcolm had surgery that meticulously pinned the puzzle pieces of his shattered elbow back together. A sling and pain meds kept him functional, the discomfort inconsequential compared to his other worries.

  Finally, around day three, Nirav turned the corner. The change was slow at first, but then visible progress came in leaps and bounds. His son was back, alert and talking, restless in the confines of the hospital room, eating everything in sight. The constricting band that had strangled Malcolm’s heart eased with each bit of evidence that they were on a solid path.

  “Papa, is Lily okay? Kat? The dogs?”

  Malcolm offered what reassurance he could. Just hearing the word Papa again was an indescribable relief.

  Still, nightmares haunted Nirav, and Malcolm, sleeping on the recliner in his son’s room, woke with each restless cry. The dreams were a confused mix of events, sometimes involving his parents, sometimes Kat and Lily, all of them heartbreaking. In his nine short years, Nirav had experienced more crises than anyone deserved in a lifetime.

  At random moments, Malcolm paced the hallways, searching out news.

  Lily was recovering well, and Jennifer, Scott’s blonde, energetic ex-wif
e, who had swept in the day of the fire, kept the nursing staff on their toes. Sara, pale and drawn, came down each day to share updates on Kat—three days in ICU on a respirator with all of them worried, then breathing on her own at last, a moment to celebrate. Daily messages from the vet clinic assured him that Tye was doing well. Juni was improving more slowly, with fractured ribs, a fractured scapula, and a long list of injuries he couldn’t keep up with.

  Even the weather cooperated. The long-overdue rain arrived two days after the rescue, a full-day deluge that finally killed the horrific fire.

  Along with the fire’s end came the grim news that firefighters had found human remains, identified as those of Kevin Harris. Interviews with the man’s heartbroken parents were broadcast on the local news, forcing Malcolm to turn away from the newscast. That could have been Nirav. That could have been me, grieving for a lost son.

  At last, after a full week, they reached the day Nirav had been talking about nonstop—a picnic where he could see Lily, Kat, and the dogs again before everyone dispersed in separate directions. If everything remained stable, Malcolm and Nirav would be able to leave the hospital in another few days, a target that couldn’t arrive soon enough, as far as Malcolm was concerned. A normal life was long overdue.

  The picnic was Jennifer’s idea, planned for the shaded patio the hospital used for outdoor events. Nirav was too excited to sit still, so they headed out early, oxygen tank in tow. The day was clear, and drifts of clouds floated lazily across a sky laced with jet trails. The leaves of a giant magnolia tree rustled in the breeze, and the air smelled like new life, damp and green.

  Scott, Jennifer, and Lily were unpacking food and drinks at a long picnic table, but Lily raced in their direction as soon as she saw Nirav. She looked thinner, but compared to Nirav’s fragile recovery, she acted like a poster child for good health.

  “Nirav!” She pulled him into a giant hug that left him grinning but a bit out of breath.

  “I am being better here,” he told her. “Today we see Juni and Tye.” He said it with the air of imparting top-secret knowledge.

  “I know. Mom said.” She grasped the handle of Nirav’s wheeled oxygen tank. “Come see. We’ve got lemonade and cupcakes.” She led him toward the table, chatting nonstop. A cluster of bracelets jangled with every movement, the result of Scott’s careful rescue of the trinkets. How fitting that they had ended up back on Lily’s wrist, an emblem of triumph.

  Malcolm greeted Jennifer, and when she left to fetch more paper plates from the car, Scott stopped helping and joined the other man to talk. Malcolm shook hands left-handed, his sling a constant aggravation. “Lily looks great. How’s it all going?”

  Scott looked at his daughter, and his face lit up, his pride obvious. “So far, so good. She’s a little too quiet sometimes, sort of lost in her own head, but she’s young. She’ll be fine. Jen is already making noises about taking her back to St. Louis.” Lily had rebounded the fastest of the three, no question.

  “A shame—I know you’ll miss her. Nirav’s doing well, too.” Malcolm’s spirits lifted every time he spoke his son’s name. “Another few days and we’ll be ready to head for DC.”

  “I’m glad he’s recovering.” Scott’s voice was sincere, and he gave Nirav an approving glance. A far cry from the judgmental attitude he had radiated that first day. He looked Malcolm in the eye, his face more serious than usual. “Listen, I want to thank you. For everything. Without that helicopter, without you there, knowing what to do …”

  “Forget it. Success took both of us.” Malcolm felt himself reddening, the conversation awkward. He had always assessed people by their rank and their training, putting his trust in those whose backgrounds matched his own. He’d considered Scott deadweight—judging him in a superficial appraisal just as Scott had judged Nirav. He’d been wrong, totally wrong. Scott had stepped up and proved his worth.

  “If you or Lily ever need anything, let me know. Anything. I mean it.”

  “Thanks. If I can ever return the favor, give a shout.” Scott grabbed a napkin, scribbled down his home address and email, and handed it over. Malcolm folded the floppy scrap into his wallet. He would log the contact in; he would stay in touch. Scott grinned, obviously pleased that the offer was taken seriously.

  Malcolm turned to check on Nirav and saw Kat walking slowly in their direction. White bandages masked her burned hand, and she moved a bit unsteadily, but she looked far better than he’d expected—no oxygen mask, no IV line, and her color was no longer the forbidding gray it had been in the helicopter. He hurried forward, and as he got closer, he realized that what he had thought were white socks were actually more bandages, swathing her feet.

  Seeing her here, alive and recovering, loosened a few strands of guilt. In that moment in the helicopter when he’d thought they’d lost her, he’d told Scott to take care of the children first. The right choice, but one that had plagued him.

  “Kat, how wonderful. How are you?” He reached toward her, offering a stabilizing arm.

  “Much better, thank you.” She took his arm with a smile that reminded him of their conversations before the fire had thrown their lives into chaos. “Sara will probably fuss because I didn’t bring that damn walker with me. She went out to pick up the dogs, so I seized the chance to escape my room.” She caught sight of Nirav and Lily and gasped. The blood drained out of her face, and she leaned more heavily on Malcolm. “Oh my god. They’re really here.” She hastily wiped at her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her pocket.

  The children saw her at the same moment and came racing over.

  “Kat!” Lily hugged her with a fierceness that threatened to rock her off-balance, but Kat held her close. Malcolm quickly pulled up one of the metal patio chairs, and Kat sat, her unbandaged hand holding tight to Lily’s.

  Nirav hung back shyly, and she looked his way. “Nirav, I’m so glad that—” Kat’s voice choked off, and Nirav launched himself forward. She held him tight, her face buried in his hair, and Malcolm thought of the hours she had held him in the pond. “You’re both okay.” She whispered it so quietly, Malcolm almost missed it. “I keep picturing you still back there in the fire. I had to see you myself to believe.”

  Nirav clung to her, the only time Malcolm had ever seen him trust someone else so completely, and a wave of gratitude threatened to break through the unruffled veneer he worked hard to maintain.

  Kat had saved his son, and she genuinely cared for him. Throughout the stories Nirav had told him, what had come through most strongly was the absolute faith he had in her. She said we are okay. She said Papa is coming. I am very scared. On the rocks. In the water. In the fire. She is keeping me safe.

  After several long moments, Nirav straightened.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Kat said. She gave Malcolm a worried glance, and he knew she’d heard the raspy sound of Nirav’s breathing. His oxygen mask still dwarfed his too-thin face, and he coughed too often for comfort.

  “He’s much better. Really.” Malcolm hoped that reassured her. He couldn’t tamp down his own concerns, despite the doctors’ optimism. They predicted a full recovery; it would just take time.

  “I am being better here.” Nirav gave Kat an incandescent grin. Malcolm hadn’t seen one of those since the fire. “Papa says I am seeing Tye and Juni today. In not even one hour. One.” He held up one finger.

  “Juni is here because of you, Nirav,” Kat said. “I’m sorry we lost your bowl.”

  Nirav’s smile didn’t waver. “Juni is better than bowl.”

  Kat laughed. “Yes indeed. Sara is picking the dogs up now. They’re doing so much better; they get to leave this afternoon when I do.”

  “You’re heading home?” Malcolm asked.

  “Not quite,” Kat said. “The only reason they agreed to discharge me now was because I’ll stay with Sara for at least another week and come back here to the hospital for outpatient visits. I’d rather go back to my own house, but this will work out well. It
will give Sara and me more time together. Time I was afraid we wouldn’t have.”

  Right on cue, Sara arrived with the dogs, and chaos ensued. Juni and Tye dragged her forward on their leashes, Tye bouncing and Juni hobbling, each tail wagging in a wild blur.

  The puppy looked great—his neck neatly bandaged again—and he pulled against his harness with plenty of energy. The Lab looked more borderline. She had one front leg strapped to her chest, and a patchwork of shaved areas on her legs, chest, and neck showed dark bruises and uneven lines of sutures that looked straight out of a bad horror flick. Despite it all, she looked a hell of a lot better than she had in the helicopter, and she limped fast in lurching, three-legged steps. Malcolm was relieved she’d pulled through. Kat would have been devastated if Juni hadn’t survived.

  “Tye!” Nirav plopped down on the pavement and held out his arms, and the puppy galloped toward him, dragging a laughing Sara behind him. Juni came to sit beside Kat, who gave her a gentle pat, avoiding all the injuries.

  Sara glanced their way. “Mom! No walker?”

  Kat tried to look innocent, but she gave Malcolm a told-you-I’d-get-in-trouble glance. Sara shook her head in mock dismay. Kat was going to have a hard time getting away with such things when she stayed with her daughter.

  Jennifer had been waiting on the fringes, but once initial greetings were over and Sara, the dogs, and the children moved to the far side of the patio, she came over to Kat and knelt in front of her. She took Kat’s hand and held her gaze. “You saved my daughter. You will be in my heart and in my prayers every day for the rest of my life.”

  Kat’s face crumpled. Tears streaked her cheeks as she took Jennifer in her arms, and Malcolm had to turn away for a moment. Jennifer’s simple words tore into his heart like shrapnel. They tossed him back to that mountain road, blocked by flames, prevented from reaching his son. Back to that helicopter, imagining Nirav dead in the forest below him. Back to that fiery pond, convinced their search would fail. Jennifer had found the words he hadn’t been able to find himself.