One of the Boys

by Merline Lovelace

  Please let Mac be okay, she prayed over and over in an unconscious litany. Let me see him again. They hadn’t been together since Mac had delivered his marriage proposition three nights ago. Maggie refused to call it a proposal—it had really been more of a command—but it had filled her mind almost to the exclusion of everything else. She rubbed her eyes with a fist to hold back the threat of tears.

  Forcing her personal fears from her mind, she made herself focus on her professional responsibilities. Mentally she reviewed everything she knew about the test. She’d gone over it with Jack again just this morning. Since he’d done the original analysis and wanted to cover the actual test, she’d agreed. Maggie refused to give in to the sick guilt that threatened to swamp her. She should have gone out to the test site, instead of Jack. He knew the test, knew all the properties of the chemicals they were using, knew the dangers. But it was her responsibility. And Mac may be hurt.

  By the time she reached Base Ops and unloaded her gear, she had forced herself to an icy calm. She’d practiced with the disaster-response team a couple of times since coming to Eglin. The team took their responsibilities with deadly seriousness. Their practices were frighteningly realistic. They had to be. Eglin had an active flying mission and the population of a medium-size city. Any type of accident could happen, from gas-main explosions to fires to airplane crashes. The exercise-team chief enlisted schoolchildren, wives and on-base civilians as participants in simulated bus crashes, hostage situations and major explosions of all types. Hospital personnel painted gory injuries on the players. The more realistic the better.

  Their practice stood them in good stead now. As the various team members assembled, they ran through their checklists with brisk efficiency. The on-scene commander briefed them on what he knew, which wasn’t much more than what had been relayed by the command post. Each team member then described what he or she knew of the test and the site. Maggie forced herself to detail calmly the environmental hazards to the other team members. Everything inside her wanted to scream at them to get on with it, to move faster. Her rational mind knew the danger of plunging blindly into an accident site. But emotionally, she wished she could jump in her van and take off without waiting.

  After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, the on-scene commander directed the team to an entry control/safe point coordinated by radio with the fire chief. Maggie ran to her van, accompanied by the chaplain and two bio-environmental techs. Her four-wheeler could handle the rough range roads easily. She wheeled the van into the convoy of vehicles that drove off the main base, led by a police car with its siren screaming.

  She kept the radio tuned to the fire-station crash line all during the long ride to the site. The firefighters were real pros, and the chief especially so. He kept chatter over the open radio to a minimum. Their lines were unscrambled and often monitored by civilians off base. There was no need to panic the general populace until they knew the scope of the disaster.

  “It’s Jack. Thank God!”

  Maggie all but shouted as her van pulled up to the circle of police cars and fire trucks gathered at the entry-control point. Even from a distance she recognized her tall bearded deputy. Before the van had completely stopped rolling, Maggie slammed it into park and leaped out. As she ran toward Jack, she could hear the roar of flames and smell the sharp acrid scent of smoke in the air. Tall pines blocked the accident scene from sight.

  “Jack, are you okay?” She grabbed his arm.

  “I’m fine, boss. I wasn’t on-site when it happened. I’d just come back to my car for some notes I needed.”

  “What happened? How bad is it?”

  “It wasn’t the propellant, Maggie. The stuff hadn’t even been unloaded from the containers.”

  Maggie clutched his arm hard in relief. All during the long drive to the site, she’d dreaded hearing reports of toxic clouds spreading over the area.

  “It was some kind of a freak accident. The crane lifting the firing tube into place snapped a cable, which in turn whipped into the mechanized loading vehicle. From what I can gather, sparks ignited the vehicle’s fuel and caused the explosion. I wasn’t there, though. The fire chief has the real poop.”

  Maggie glanced over to where the chief was briefing the on-scene commander. She turned back and asked the question eating at her soul.

  “Jack, did you see Colonel MacRae before or after the accident?”

  Jack shook his head slowly. He, like most of the engineering squadron, knew Maggie was dating the lab commander. Maggie caught back a ragged sob, then made herself take several deep breaths.

  “The chief might know something,” Jack volunteered. “He just came out of the accident area a few minutes ago.”

  Maggie knew she couldn’t interrupt the fire chief as he huddled with the on-scene commander, but she watched them closely. When the commander turned away to take a radio call, she approached the sweating helmeted fireman.

  “Chief, Colonel MacRae was supposed to be on-site for the test. Have you had contact with him?”

  The stocky grizzled man turned to face Maggie. He admired and respected this vibrant young woman. She’d ridden with his fire crews during a couple of exercises and had spent a full day with his hazardous-materials team. If Maggie’s own credentials hadn’t already won his professional respect, her willingness to listen and learn from his people would have done it.

  “Sorry, Dr. Wescott. I haven’t seen him. There’s still a lot of confusion in there.” He nodded toward the flames they could see leaping above the treeline. “We should hear something soon.”

  He turned away to answer a call from the on-scene commander. They talked for a moment, then the commander called his team together. Maggie knew the man in charge both personally and professionally. She and Mac had been seated beside him and his wife at more than one social function. Maggie gave grateful thanks that he’d been in the job for more than two years and knew his stuff.

  “Okay, this is what we have so far,” the commander said. “A vehicle fire and explosion occurred just north of the control center at Site 32. Burning fuel sprayed several workers in the area. The fire crews have stabilized at least two people with severe burns, but there may be more.”

  He nodded to the senior medical rep. “Doc, make sure your folks call back for more burn-trauma kits, just in case. Additionally, the fuel ignited both structural and brushfires that are still burning. The lab folks moved the propellant and main rocket fixtures off-site immediately and they’re out of range. Thank God we don’t have that to worry about. But there may be other chemicals stored or brought out for the test. Fire crews are surveying the area now.”

  He took a deep breath, then finished with, “There were several lab and range control crews on-site. We’re trying to get a firm head count. I’m going in with the chief now. Doc, you better come with me. The rest of you wait until I call you in.”

  Maggie bit her lip in an agony of frustration. Now that her worst fears of a major chemical disaster were allayed, every nerve and fiber in her body screamed for word of Mac. She forced herself to review again her disaster-response checklist, going over the sections on chemical and natural fires. Together, she and Jack added to the grease-pencil annotations on the checklist. She’d have to either call or fax a detailed report to both state and federal environmental agencies as soon as the imminent danger passed.

  “Dr. Wescott, over here, please. Major, you, too.”

  Maggie looked up to see the on-scene commander returning. She and the senior bio-environmental medical engineer hurried over.

  “Look, there are some barrels burning close to the control center. We couldn’t find any lab folks who knew what they contained. The senior test engineer is one of those seriously injured. The chief has what markings his people could get off the barrels. I need you to get with him immediately and see if you can figure out if we have a danger of a secondary explosion on our hands.”

  Maggie and the young major hurried over to the worried fire
chief. “What do we have?”

  “I think they’re chemical-waste containers, waiting to be transported to main base for disposal. I’ve called the numbers into the National Emergency Materials Center, but I need you to take a look and see what you think.”

  Maggie knew the twenty-four-hour hotline should respond within minutes. But even those few minutes could be too late for the people facing the danger of a secondary explosion. She pulled out her own copy of the materials directory and frantically scanned the listed agents that contained the numbers the chief cited. All were flammable, but should burn steadily, not explode. The men around her sagged with relief at the news. The call from the center confirmed her numbers a few minutes later.

  “Thank God,” the chief muttered. He picked up his hand radio and barked a series of short orders.

  “The fire crews have contained most of the fires,” the on-scene commander told his assembled team less than fifteen minutes later. “I’m moving the command post forward. Get your stuff. Public Affairs, you need to leave someone here to handle reporters. I don’t want them on-scene until we ID the injured. Call me if anyone gets too persistent about wanting to film the scene. I want to clear it before you bring anyone forward. The rest of you gather your gear and move up.”

  Maggie, with Jack crammed between her and the chaplain, maneuvered her van over the bumpy road leading to the test-control facility. Several ambulances passed in the opposite direction, moving back toward the main road with lights flashing and sirens wailing. As soon as Maggie’s van reached the site, the chaplain jumped out to hurry to the small triage area set up.

  Maggie and Jack stood back to observe the devastated control facility and its surrounding area. Flames had scorched the earth all around and peeled the paint from the main metal building and its adjacent utility sheds. Electrical lines hung loose and snapping on one side of the building. Maggie directed Jack to get on the radio to the architectural section back at the main base. They needed a general idea of the floor plans of the main facility so they could check for underground drains that might carry burning fuel. While Jack was on the radio, Maggie desperately scanned the crowd of hurrying people.

  She identified firefighters, security police, disaster-response team members in their distinctively marked hard hats, medics and a couple of frantic-looking civilians huddled to one side of the site. But, try as she might, she couldn’t see any figure that came near Mac’s dimensions.

  She shivered with gut-wrenching fear when the chief approached her, his face grave.

  “The doc just confirmed that Colonel MacRae was one of the injured. His burns aren’t too bad, but he inhaled a lot of smoke pulling one of the crew out from under some burning debris. They’ve already transported him to the hospital.”

  He reached out a hand to steady her as she rocked back on her heels. “I’m sorry—I wish I could tell you more about how he is. But maybe Doc—”

  Maggie was racing toward the clump of medics before he could finish.

  The doctor assured her that Mac’s condition, although critical, was stable. He was unconscious, and they feared lung damage. The doc couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say more, but he did add that the hospital commander, a noted surgeon, was already with the emergency-room crew awaiting the ambulances. Mac would be in good hands.

  Maggie worked frantically with Jack to cover her checklist items. She guessed it would be at least three or four hours until the initial assessment was complete, and then there’d be days and weeks of investigative reports. But Jack could handle it from here.

  The on-scene commander took her report, agreed Jack could handle the cleanup, then arranged a ride for her back to the main base in one of the police cars. With a grim shake of his head, he returned to the business at hand.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Maggie!”

  The thin wavering cry greeted her as she got off the elevator and hurried down the pale hospital corridor toward the intensive-care unit. She recognized Davey’s voice even before two figures came hurtling toward her from a small waiting room to one side. She knelt down to hug one small body in each arm.

  “Don’t cry, Danny,” she whispered to a dark head buried in her shoulder. “I talked to the doctors downstairs. They’re sure your dad will be okay.”

  Actually, the hospital commander, whom she’d met at a couple of parties, said he was sure Mac would pull through. Something about his being a tough son of a—

  “Maggie, they say Colonel Mac has burned his lungs. That he’s on a respirator.” Mrs. Harris joined the group in the middle of the hallway. Maggie held out her hand and Kate gripped it hard.

  Maggie loosened her hold on the twins. “Come on, troops. Let’s get out of the hallway before the hospital orderlies sweep us up and out.”

  When the small group were seated in the waiting area, Kate wadded her handkerchief into a tight ball. “Did you say you talked to the doctors, Maggie?”

  “Yes. The hospital commander stopped me on my way up here. He’d just checked on Mac and said he was doing as well as could be expected. I guess that’s medical jargon for hanging in there. He’s well enough for them to allow me a quick visit, anyway. Have you seen him?” she asked the boys.

  “No, they wouldn’t let us in,” Davey answered waveringly. “The nurses have been real nice, though,” he added after a quick swallow. “They come out every so often to let us know how he’s doing.”

  “Well, I got the okay from the big man himself, so I’ll go check. I’ll see if they’ll let you in.”

  Maggie wiped her finger gently across Danny’s cheek to catch a lingering tear. She ached to kiss them both, but wasn’t sure just how nine-year-old boys felt about kisses. She contented herself with one last ferocious squeeze.

  The nurse in charge led her to one of the six beds that formed an open circle in front of the monitoring desk. Maggie wasn’t prepared for the sight of Mac lying so still and helpless. He had a respirator tube taped to his mouth and various intravenous lines running into one arm. Gauzy tentlike structures covered both arms almost to his shoulders. A light gauze pad ran down one side of his face, from forehead to chin.

  “Oh, Mac,” she whispered. She wanted desperately to hold his hand, touch some part of him, but was afraid to disturb any of the bandages or cause him pain. She looked helplessly at the nurse standing on the other side of the bed.

  “Don’t worry,” the woman said with a sympathetic smile. “He’s doing fine. They’ve already decided not to send him with the others to the burn center in San Antonio. All these tubes make him look a lot worse off than he is.”

  Maggie smiled her thanks as the older woman turned to leave. She spent the next few minutes in a chair pulled up close to Mac’s side, whispering softly to him. She could never recall afterward just what she tried to tell him in those first worry-filled moments.

  The boys and Kate waited for her anxiously, along with a gathering crowd of Mac’s co-workers and friends. Several officers who knew Mac were there already, some with their wives. The Eglin commander, a major-general almost as big as Mac, arrived within a half hour. He spoke to each of the boys and to Maggie and Kate after he’d taken a quick look in on Mac. The boys were allowed one short visit, which they took surprisingly well, before agreeing to go home with their friend Joey’s dad.

  Time passed in a blur for Maggie after that. It seemed as if there was a constant stream of folks coming to inquire about Mac. A surprising number knew her and knew of her relationship with him. Finally, late that evening, the traffic died down and it was just Kate and Maggie. They were allowed brief visits on the hour. Throughout the long night, the two women took turns making trips into the intensive-care unit, and their shared worry brought them closer.

  Maggie spent her short spells at Mac’s bedside perched on the edge of a hard chair, whispering soft nonsense to the accompanying hum of the hospital machinery. She finally worked up the nerve to touch him gently on his sheet-covered thigh. With every light stroke she thought about their l
ast conversation, when he had told her he wanted them to marry. And with every stroke, she knew that was what she wanted, too, more than anything else in the world.

  The same pattern repeated itself the next day. Kate convinced Maggie to bring some things to the house and stay with her and the boys, rather than make the long lonely drive around the bay to her Destin condo. She moved into a spare bedroom and managed to keep Woof out long enough for a brief nap in the afternoon before heading back to the hospital.

  Mac’s father arrived that evening. Maggie would’ve felt awkward if he hadn’t greeted her with a warm twinkle in his blue eyes, which looked so like his son’s her breath caught in her throat.

  “So this is the little girl Mac’s told me about.” He grinned. The older man carried his years well on his big frame. “I understand you’re soon to become part of the family,” he added, taking her hand in both of his.

  Maggie nodded slowly, but without hesitation. Another line crossed, she thought. “If he still wants me. I’m afraid I’ve given your son a rough time.”

  “Good,” his loving dad replied with deep satisfaction. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy in life.”

  He spent several hours at the hospital before Maggie convinced him to go home with Kate for the night.

  Much later, when the hospital had settled into that peculiar somnolent state during which patients rested and the staff worked quietly, Maggie went in for her hourly visit and found Mac awake. He tried to grin at her around the tube taped to his mouth and failed miserably. It was the most gorgeous grimace Maggie had ever seen.

  “Hello, Mac.” She smiled down at him. “’Bout time you decided to rejoin the living.” She sat down and began what by now was an unconscious light stroking of his thigh. “Kate and the boys and your dad were here earlier. They’re all okay,” she told him. She knew the boys would be his first concern.