Great. A suspected life-threatening injury and the mother of all storms.
Luckily, fighting the odds was what he was good at.
Shane finally made it up the mountain. Breathless and wheezing, he probably shouldn’t have been up here at all. He should have said his chest wasn’t up to it. But Cal kept that thought to himself.
The two-way radio crackled. It was Brian, the pilot. ‘Weather coming in fast. We need to get off this mountain and quick. Over.’
‘Things turn to custard pretty quick round here.’ One minute it was sunny, the next it was a white-out. But they had to make Marty safe before they left. ‘Okay. Let’s have a look at your leg. I’m going to have to cut your salopettes. Okay? Damned shame, because it’s good kit.’
Keeping the patient talking and conscious gave them a better chance, so Cal went with his usual patter. He nodded at Shane, who was assessing the obviously broken leg. The bone had cut through the skin. Needed a splint at least to stabilise it. Needed surgery.
Needed to get off the mountain, and fast.
Again, Marty pushed to sit up. ‘I can’t breathe... I can’t...’
Cal shot a look at Abbie, who’d turned her attention to Marty’s chest. Could be one of a dozen things. He prayed there wasn’t any surgical emphysema. Dodgy lungs in thin air at the top of a mountain were a nasty prospect. ‘I’m going to put a line in your left arm, mate. Give you some fluids to keep you hydrated and something to make you more comfortable.’
‘Left lung clear, but can’t hear much in the right base. You want to check?’
‘Yep. Let me have a go. To check.’ Not wanting to disbelieve her or undermine her, he listened as carefully as he could to the beat-up chest. Suspected right pneumothorax. Great. The odds were starting to turn against them. It was freezing up here; his hands were starting to ache with the cold.
‘Oxygen in situ. Pain relief administered.’
‘Leg splint inflated and in situ.’ The distant clouds had become very real, thick and dark and heavy. Flakes started to spot their coats, Marty’s hair.
‘Pass me a survival blanket, will you? Right. Thanks. Now, we’ve got to get you onto this scoop.’
The radio crackled. ‘Cal, come in. You have two minutes. Over.’
‘Just getting Marty on the scoop. Over.’
Cal positioned the scoop alongside their patient and somehow they managed to shift him over, keeping his neck as still as possible.
‘Let’s go. You all okay?’ Shane took the lead, carrying the scoop at the feet end. Cal was at the head and Abbie walked at the side, carrying equipment and making sure Marty was stable and as comfortable as possible. It was like a game of slip ’n’ slide getting them all down the hill.
‘You fancy some tobogganing, Marty?’ It was only half a joke. Apart from a few rocks it was a vertical skating rink.
They started to inch gingerly down. The sun had slid behind a cloud and the wind whipped round them, biting through their clothes. They made it a few metres then suddenly the scoop lurched sideways and forwards. Next thing Cal knew, Shane was yelling and tumbling head first over rocks and ice.
Down. Down. Down.
CHAPTER TWO
‘SHANE! SHANE!’
The boss had come to a halt a hundred metres or so down the hill, splayed against the rear of the helicopter. He wasn’t moving.
Cal reassessed, looking from Shane to Marty and then back down the slope again, allowing himself the briefest moment for his heart to thump hard and fast against his chest wall. Damn. Damn. Then he closed off all emotion.
Panic didn’t help. Helplessness didn’t help. Just action. He’d learnt his lesson the hard way. Had been learning for two long years.
Two patients now. One scoop and a fledgling helper.
Their patient took priority. Getting him down the hill now was going to be a challenge.
Somehow Callum had managed to keep a firm grip on Marty’s scoop. ‘You okay, mate?’
‘Holding on,’ he groaned. ‘Just about.’
The scoop listed at a sharp forty-five-degree angle, from where Cal had maintained his hold and height, to where Abbie had been twisted by the sudden lurch sideways and pushed to the floor. She was just about managing to hold the scoop aloft with her arms outstretched underneath Marty, bearing his weight in a desperate attempt to keep their patient still and secure. There was an ooze of blood on her head. ‘Abbie? You okay?’
She grimaced, her body contorting in an effort to hold up the scoop and the man, who must have weighed three times what she did. ‘I’m fine. It’s okay.’
‘You’re bleeding.’
‘It’s nothing. I caught my head on a rock as I fell. It’s just a scratch.’ She shook her head, trying hard to pretend she was okay, but he could see right through it. ‘You should see the other guy.’
‘Sadly, I can see him.’ The boss looked knocked out and flat. Marty was groaning in agony in the tipped-up scoop. And Abbie had a cut head.
It looked worse than just a scratch, but he had to believe her because he just couldn’t do this alone. She seemed orientated and fine. Feisty, actually. He’d have a closer look once they were on safe terrain and out of danger. ‘Right then. I’m going to lower him down so we can right the scoop, then we can wait for Brian to come help.’
‘He’d be better staying down there, don’t you think? To see if Shane’s okay?’
‘I’ll talk to him.’ Cal shouted towards the chopper but couldn’t make himself heard. He flicked on the two-way. ‘Hey. Did you see Shane? He took a bad fall, he’s at the rear. Roger.’
‘I’m on my way. How are you going to manage with the scoop? Slide it down?’
‘Not sure yet. Over.’ There were too many rocks sticking out of the ground to make sliding a feasible option.
‘She’s a little thing. Roger.’
‘We’ll be fine.’ It was Abbie, glowering. She had the affronted air of someone who would not be underestimated. He knew that trait well. Too well. Someone who insisted on overstretching...and then paying the consequences. She’d lowered her side of the scoop now and was brushing the snow and ice from her clothes. As she bent to the left she winced. ‘Just give me a couple of seconds.’
They barely had one. The weather was closing in. This was all falling apart, but he needed to stay in control. ‘Are you hurt? Is it something more than your head? Did the scoop hit you?’
‘Just winded me.’ She shook her head again but he could see the way she flinched as she turned. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘I can call back-up. You won’t be able to manage.’
‘Says who? I could be a champion weightlifter for all you know. I could have won the Queenstown Primary arm wrestling competition in 1997.’ She flexed her arms, but all he could see was the huge coat covering her from neck to knee. With the head wound and her wayward hair and the enormous coat she looked like a bag lady rather than the professional she was proving to be. ‘What do you think, Marty? Am I stronger than I look?’
‘I hope so,’ Marty groaned. ‘Yes.’
She gave Cal an I-told-you-so grin that made her eyes light up and his stomach feel strange, then she shuffled to the end of the scoop and bent in readiness to pick it up. ‘So, let’s do this. What choice do we have?’
‘We could wait for back up. Or Brian.’ But even with the space blanket, Marty was shaking with cold; they had to get this done and quick.
‘He’s with Shane and it looks like he needs help too.’ Too true. Brian was trying to lift Shane up, but the senior paramedic kept buckling forward. She glanced at the swirls of snow falling around them. ‘There isn’t a choice. We have to do this or we’ll all freeze to death.’ Without any further chance at a conversation she bent at the end of the scoop and shouted, ‘Ready? On my call. One. Two. Three.’
They were badly matched size-wise, but if he kept his arms straight and stooped down low they were just about able to maintain a satisfactory balance. But it was slow going. He could see every muscle in her hands tighten and strain as she bore the weight of the hiker.
She doesn’t have gloves on.
Somewhere along the way she’d taken them off—to work the IV and draw up drugs, probably. And hadn’t had the chance to put them back on. Her fingers were white—with strain? With cold?
That was all he needed. Frostbite.
Frostbite. The enemy of the winter hiker. Could do untold damage from the inside out.
The dread swamped him along with the memories. He wasn’t going to let that happen. They were getting off this mountain without any further incident. Stooping low, he gripped harder and tried to take more of the weight. It was impossible without upending the whole thing. Regardless of how strong she thought she was, she was starting to tire—steps becoming slower as she navigated the rocks. She needed to rest without losing face, he got that. ‘Stop. Stop, Abbie. I need a minute.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ Very gently she lowered her end of the scoop then straightened up, twisting slowly left and right to ease out her muscles. Her hands were still in crooked fists and even from this distance he could see red marks on her palms. More blood?
‘Brian! Brian, come here and take over.’ They were about fifty metres from the chopper. Shane was sitting slumped against the landing gear holding his shoulder. ‘You go down and take over from Brian and he can come and help me with this.’
‘I can do this.’
He kept his voice level despite his growing frustration. ‘And I’m telling you not to. Your hands are cut and cold and there’s no need for you to lift anything if we can get Brian to do it. I need you down there to sort out Shane. He’s not looking happy. Brian’s just a pilot—he can’t assess anything. I need your nursing skills and his muscle.’
‘Okay. I’m gone.’
He was impressed with the agility and speed with which she made it to Shane, crossing paths with Brian and stopping for the briefest of handovers.
He watched as she tripped lightly over the rocks, that jacket swamping her tiny frame. She had guts, that was for sure. In another life he might have...
No, he wouldn’t.
No point in wishing. He didn’t have space for a relationship; and definitely not with someone a million miles away from his home. That would never work. No point starting something.
He pressed forwards, forcing all his attention to the here and now, not the murky past or his short-circuited future.
* * *
Finally, they were all settled into the chopper. Two patients. One more than they’d bargained for.
Brian gunned the engine. ‘It’s going to be a bit bumpy, but we’ll be back in no time.’
She looked a little green as they rose into the air and shunted sharply east as a rogue gust caught them. For one second she looked terrified, then she regained her composure and started to chat to Shane, keeping him orientated to time and place. Her voice was like music cutting through the grim roar of the engine and the beeping of the portable ECG machine that monitored Marty’s heart trace.
She was laughing, but it was gentle and lyrical. ‘So, Shane, your crampon front-ended and you did a spectacular cartwheel down the mountain. If you want to train for the gymnastic world championships you could do with finding a more level place to do it.’
‘Er...what’s...happening? Did we have a patient?’
There was a flicker of a frown, then she recovered. ‘Yes. He’s just here, next to you. Marty’s had some ketamine so he’s doing okay. No. No, stay where you are, love. We need you to keep as still as you can.’ All the while she talked, her eyes roved over first one patient then the other, assessing, monitoring, smiling.
Dancing. Moving. Smiling.
There was just something about her that was mesmerising.
Cal shook himself and focused on Marty’s observations. Mesmerising or not, he had promises to fulfil. Three months, he’d been given. Three months to train with the most highly skilled search and rescue team in the world and then he’d be back in Scotland to resume his duties and try to make amends for the mistake that had cost his brother his future.
* * *
By the time they reached the ED it was almost the end of Abbie’s shift. Her head was thumping a little but the bleeding had stopped. And, okay, she’d lied. The scoop had been so heavy, her hands were cut and sore, but none of that mattered until Marty and Shane were sorted out. Having already taken Shane through to her waiting colleagues, she now helped wheel Marty’s gurney into Resus and handed over to the ED staff. Into safe hands.
Theoretically, from this side of the process, she was done, but she hung around, feeling a little sidelined and a lot out of sorts. Actually, she was in pain and a little shocked at how things had progressed in those wintry conditions and how close they’d come to disaster. Cal was standing next to her. He looked up from his notes, those bright eyes catching her by surprise. He was a big man. Tall. Broad. Calm. He glanced at her forehead. ‘You need to get that cut sorted out. I’ll ask someone to take a look.’
‘I’ll sort it. Thanks. They’re all too busy with Marty and Shane and a load of other things.’ She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘It’s all dried up. I’ll do it later.’
‘Or, I’ll do it for you, now.’ He pointed to an empty cubicle. ‘Grab a seat.’
‘But I want to stay and work on Marty.’
‘Tough luck. Not your job right now.’ A straight talker, then. As he spoke Cal wheeled round and opened a few drawers, finding some gauze and saline.
‘Actually, it is my job. I can’t just abandon my shift.’
‘I’m not asking you to, but you’re my responsibility right now—you hurt yourself on my watch.’
‘It was hardly your fault; we did what we had to do. This is just a bit of fallout. I’ll live.’
‘But I’m duty bound to fix you up. Plus, I can’t let you tend to any patients looking like that—you’ll scare them off.’ His eyes glinted with laughter and she couldn’t help joining in. Next thing she knew he was moving her to a seat and pressing the gauze onto her forehead. He’d been firm but fair up the mountain, having been thrust in charge of three—no, four, including the pilot—lives. Clearly, he was the kind of guy who took responsibility seriously. He hadn’t been flustered or snappy, he’d just calmly told them all what they needed to do. A leader by example. And here he was doing it again.
He was also incredibly close. She couldn’t remember being this close to a man who wasn’t her patient for a long time. A long, long time. He was still being all calm and in control—if not a little bossy. And that made her nervous inside.
And...and he had the most amazing scent. A fresh air kind of smell. Something she wanted to inhale.
Stop it. She could feel her cheeks starting to burn. ‘Look, give me the saline, I’ll just wipe it—’
‘No.’ His voice was level and steady and she got the feeling he wasn’t going to cave in to her refusal. ‘Sit down and let me clean this up. This is going to sting.’
‘Are you, by chance, an older brother?’
‘Yeah. How did you guess?’ There was a grim smile at that comment, his eyes dulling a little.
‘Oh, you know, the take-no-crap bossiness. I bet your sibs love you.’
‘As it happens, he does. One brother. Younger, by two and a half years. He hates me and loves me in equal measure.’ There was a pause where Callum seemed to retreat into his own thoughts, his eyes clouded with pain that seemed to come from nowhere, but permeated his body. ‘No, actually he just hates me.’
‘Boys will be boys, I guess.’
‘Something like that.’ Cal took her hand and started to
open the fist she’d made to try to keep the blood circulating, because to straighten out the broken skin hurt. A lot. Instead of thinking about the pain she focused on what he was saying, and what he was leaving out. It wasn’t something like that at all; she could tell. His manner had changed. He’d shut down a little at the mention of his brother. Or maybe she was just imagining it. She couldn’t fathom why she’d even noticed, and why his reticence intrigued her. He touched her fingertips lightly and they began to tingle. ‘Let me see your hands properly.’
‘Oh. Ouch. Remember when I said, be gentle with me? Yeah...that.’
Compared to the rounds and rounds of IVF she’d been through, the head wound was a walk in the park. Her hands, though—they were still frozen and cut and she just knew if he saw them he’d flip out. Because he was that kind of guy. The protective sort. The thought of which made her stomach constrict. She’d had one of them. A wonderful, amazing protective man who’d held her heart so tightly she couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else. She didn’t need to, or want to. So she had no right to be thinking about Cal’s eyes or manner, let alone getting carried away with smelling his scent. ‘My fingers are starting to thaw out...you know that weird buzzy feeling?’
‘Aha. Only too well.’ He peeled her fingers open and sucked in a breath at the sight of her raw, bleeding skin. ‘You shouldn’t have carried such a heavy weight, or you should have put your gloves on to protect yourself.’
‘Should have, would have, could have. There wasn’t time, remember? None of it is important, anyway. Marty’s safe and Shane’s being looked at. That’s all that matters. Right?’
But he’d zoned out, looking at her wedding ring. He was all matter-of-fact when he spoke. ‘Yes, well, all fixed up now. How are your feet?’
She stamped her boots and wiggled her toes. Luckily she’d put extra-thick socks on today. ‘Feet are just fine. Thank you. I’m good to go.’
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