by Cherry Adair
Dingbat huffed.
One instrument showed a little plane. Cute. Useless, but cute. She didn't know if having her hands on the yoke was doing anything or not. She was too scared to remove them.
She heard a loud mechanical noise as she stared at the horizon straight ahead with fierce concentration, as if her will could keep them up in the air. How much gas did they have? How long could the plane stay up if she didn't do anything at all?
Would the plane coast slowly down, or would they—
Wop-wop-wop-wop.
The noise got louder. And louder. And louder.
Something was broken.
Like miscalculating a last step in a staircase, the plane dropped like a rock. She bit her tongue. God almighty. They were going down. Fast.
Wop-wop-wop.
Her hands tightened on the wheel and the nose dipped when she pushed it down. She pulled up. The nose went up. Way up, slamming her back into her seat. Every muscle group in her body strained, and her heart pounded like a sledgehammer on speed.
The dogs howled, then started barking manically, scrambling over one another and banging against the back of her seat.
Wop-wop-wop-wop—
She pushed down on the yoke—just a little—and the nose evened out again, leaving her shaking and sweaty. The noise was getting on her last nerve. "Mayday, damn it! Don't you people go to the movies? I need help here!"
The nose dipped and no matter what she did, no matter how hard she pushed, it refused to come back up.
"Help!"
Wop-wop-wop-wop.
Oh, God.
"Damn you, Derek! Wake up!"
Nineteen
Wop-wop-wop-wop.
"Dr. Munroe? Lily?" The voice saying her name in the headset startled her. "If you'd take a look over here at three o'clock? Help has arrived."
Lily swung her head. Her eyes took a little longer to get there. "Oh." She stared, uncomprehendingly for a moment, at the shadowy figure barely visible inside a large black helicopter hovering on her right wing. The origin of the wop-wop-wop.
She wasn't alone. "H-hi." And thank God.
"Is he dead?" the pilot sounded only mildly curious.
"Is—?"
"Look on the top of the left handle of the control yoke, that's the steering wheel in front of Derek. See the small toggle? Press and release it several times so I know you can hear me."
She did.
"Good. To talk, press the toggle left, to hear me again, release it."
"Not dead. Unconscious. Sho—" The nose dipped. She screamed, and grabbed the yoke in a death grip as all the blood drained from her head. "Shit!"
"Easy does it." The pilot's voice came to her calm and quiet. Doing nothing whatsoever to stop Lily's heart from choking her. Sweat beaded her hairline, ran between her breasts and glued her to the seat. If the yoke were a neck it would be strangled to death, she was gripping it so hard. Each bone-white finger joint ached. The harder she held on, the better chance she had of holding this damn plane up here.
Why was there no damn air in this thing?
"Push for down," he said into her ear as she gasped for oxygen like a beached fish. "Pull for up. It's sensitive, so pull up si—"
Beep-beep-beepbeepbeepbeep.
Palms slick with sweat, heart hammering, Lily felt the blood drain from her head. "Oh, God! What's happening? What's happening!"
"You're pulling up too fast," he said calmly in counterpoint to her agitation. "Easy does it. There you go. All right. I'm going to talk you down nice and easy. Just do everything I tell you to, and in fifteen minutes you'll be safe and sound on the ground."
Good. Very good. "I'd like that. A lot!"
"You'll be there in no time. You're doing great."
Not breathing, but haven't crashed. Yet.
Yeah, great.
"I'll contact the tower and let them know what's up," he told her. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Nome Tower, this is Bell, November four-one-two-hotel, Long Range, request emergency landing, have fire and rescue on alert, over."
Lily's muscles went lax with terror. Fire and rescue? Oh, God—Pleasepleasepleaseplease. Get me out of here. Now.
"Roger that, Bell, November four-one-two-hotel, state your emergency, over."
Listening to the two calm male voices, Lily blurted out, "Where the hell were you a few minutes ago, Ace? Reading a freaking book in the john?"
"That's enough, honey," Mr. Helicopter inserted smoothly. "Let's get you down on terra firma, and Derek in the hospital. Then you can ream us a new one, okay?"
"Okay, yes, sure. Fine," Lily said through dry lips. Please, oh, please. I want to be on the ground now.
He was right. All that mattered was getting down safely, and getting Derek to the hospital.
"This is Bell, November four-one-two-hotel, we are on an intercept and escort with de Havilland, oscar one-niner-three, Beaver. Pilot incapacitated, civilian at controls. Nome VORTAC, heading one-one-zero, VFR, altitude two-four-seven-five, two-five minutes out, over."
"Bell, how do you wish to proceed? Over."
Yes, Lily thought, too terrified to look at anything but her white-knuckled hands on the yoke. Tell me. How the hell do we proceed? There wasn't a drop of spit in her mouth, her eyeballs were desert dry and sweat ran down her temples.
"We are in visual contact, aircraft is on your frequency, passenger on headphones, will talk her down, over."
"Bell, emergency vehicles en route, runway twenty-seven, monitoring transmission, over."
"Hi, Lily." She looked at the darkened windows of the helicopter. The man inside was nothing more than a darker shape at the controls. "Huntington St. John—friend of Derek. I'll be your guide this afternoon."
Her half laugh sounded more like a sob. Equal parts humor and horror. Thank God, he seemed to know what he was doing, which made her believe that she, Derek and the dogs might just get out of this after all. Swallowing her fear, she asked, "What's first?"
"Let me clarify what's what, and we can get this show on the road." He calmly walked her through the operation and function of the instrument panel, the foot pedals and the yoke. "Ready?"
"As I'll e-ever be," Lily told him with a noticeable tremor in her voice. "Let's d-do it."
"All right. Now we begin your descent. Pull back—gently now—on the throttle. Reduce power by about one-quarter cruising speed. See the nose drop? Don't panic. It's supposed to be about four inches below the horizon. You're doing fine."
If fine was sweaty palms, and severe heart palpitations, and wanting desperately to puke, she was better than fine. She spared a quick glance at Derek. Still unconscious. Don't you dare die.
"See the airport down to your left?"
It was far, far faaar down. Her mouth was so dry her "yes" didn't make it past her lips.
"I want you to make a pass over the airstrip. Just a pass. You've got plenty of fuel. Just go around once so I can tell them we're coming in and get you lined up."
The plane dropped with a teeth-jarring jolt. Lily screamed. Her vision blurred. Sick to her stomach, saliva flooded her mouth. OhGodohGodohGod—
"It's okay. You're okay. Hold her steady."
I am not okay. She tried to swallow, but found her throat constricted with sheer, unadulterated terror. "A-around?"
"One pass, you can do it."
"You don't know me. How the hell do you know if I can do it or not?" Lily demanded furiously. She didn't want to be the one in charge, damn it.
"Because," he said coolly, "nothing else is acceptable. Now concentrate."
Coming in, Lily thought grimly. One way or the other, the plane would get down on the ground. She only prayed that they wouldn't need the fire trucks lining the runway so far below her.
White-knuckled, Lily did as instructed. Every curse she had ever learned streamed through her brain as she guided the plane in a circle above the airport, following St. John's instructions to the letter.
Beep-beep-beepbeeeeep. "No!" Lily adjusted her
grip. The annoying and horrifying beep stopped. But the sound of it echoed in her brain, making her sweat even more. Once again bile rose in the back of her throat as wind buffeted the plane and it rose and fell like a dinghy on the sea. "I c-can't do th-this."
"Sure you can," St. John told her. "You're doing fine. Look for the altimeter, a red dial in the middle of the instrument panel. See it?"
"Y-yes."
"The small hand indicates feet above sea level in thousand-foot increments, the large hand in hundreds."
Lily swiped a dry tongue across arid lips. " 'K."
"Line up the landing strip when the altimeter reads one thousand feet… which should be about… now." His voice seemed eerily calm to Lily, who was shaking so hard her vision jumped and shimmied. "See the airport down there off your right wing tip?"
No. She'd just have to believe him that that's where the hell it was. She had too much else going on now to look at anything.
"Reduce power by pulling back on the throttle—No, that's too much. You're okay. Easy. Easy. There you go. Don't let the nose drop more than six inches below the horizon—Good girl. All right. Almost on the ground."
Oh, God. It was close enough to touch. Lily pulled on the yoke and the nose rose.
"Other way, honey. Pull back. Now don't panic when you hear—That's the stall. It's supposed to do that. Pull the yoke all the way into your stomach, until you're on the ground. Gently does it."
The plane bounced and shook as the skis hit the tarmac. Right ski. Then left ski. The plane started to porpoise—
"Ease back toward you—Hold it. It'll level out by itself."
"How do I stop this thing? Isn't there a brake?"
"Yeah, but I don't want you to use it," he said dryly. "Just let it roll out. You have plenty of runway. Slowly pull back on the throttle and the engine will stop."
The dogs howled behind her, the sound almost as muted as though it were underwater. In a daze Lily stared uncomprehendingly at the yoke as St. John talked her to a wobbly taxi along the runway.
By the time the plane shuddered to a stop, Lily's jaw ached from clenching her teeth, her fingers were fused for posterity to the yoke and perspiration glued her shirt to her back.
The helicopter landed as lightly as a dragonfly beside her. A tall, dark-haired man with a ponytail leaped to the tarmac. Even as the blades rotated above his head he stalked toward her.
Several hundred feet away, a door to the terminal slammed open, and a herd of people stampeded out like cows running in front of Diablo at his horny best. An ambulance raced down the runway, siren wailing, revolving lights flashing red across the snowy ground. Personnel raced around like busy ants doing things with hoses and foam and God only knew what else. The area was a hive of activity. But none of it mattered to Lily.
She turned to Derek and cradled his head on her shoulder, her arms around him. "We landed safely, you can open your eyes now," she said, her voice shaky. But he remained still.
She felt for a pulse beneath his jaw. Thready and weak. His skin felt cold and clammy, and when she lifted a lid, his pupils were fixed and dilated. Everything she knew about medicine told her he needed help, now. Everything she knew about him told her he was too stubborn to die. But just to make sure, she whispered in his ear, "Don't you leave me, Derek. If you leave me, I swear I'll find a way to make your eternity miserable."
The sound of the siren grew closer and closer. On the ambulance would be doctors, medicine, blankets, supplies. She lifted her head and glared out the window. "Hurry up, damn it!"
The man from the helicopter pounded on the window, and Lily strained to reach around and unlock the door. She almost fell out, Derek in her arms, when he yanked it open.
"Derek needs help now," she told him urgently, unwilling to let go of the man she still clasped desperately to her. "I'm fine, but Derek needs help. He's been shot and—"
"It's okay now." St. John reached out a hand. "Easy, love. You did a spectacular job of it. Hop out, I'll get him. Here, take my hand. There you go."
The next half hour flew by in a blur as medics bundled Lily into the ambulance carrying Derek and they were followed by a convoy of people to the small hospital down the street.
It all seemed surreal to Lily as they took Derek off to surgery, and she lost sight of everyone as she was wheeled off to be checked by the doctor. No matter, she kept telling anyone who'd listen, the blood on her clothes was Derek's, and she was just fine.
Ten minutes later, her completely fine self was on an exam table. Her shirt was off and a serious-looking third-year medical student was stitching up the graze wound on her shoulder. It didn't take long for the three sutures and the dressing, then Lily was allowed to dress and leave.
She pushed her way out of the examining room and stalked down the crowded corridor. She stood at the waiting-room door unobserved for a minute. The man who'd saved her butt—St. John—stood by the window talking to a petite, dark-haired woman. He was a good-looking guy in a room filled with hunks. The Wright brothers had arrived, Lily thought, impressed. The room was chockablock with muscle and testosterone.
"Lily." Geoffrey Wright, Derek's father, came toward her, arms open wide. She'd only met Derek's father twice before, but she walked straight into his embrace, her throat tight with emotion. Geoff gave her a tight hug, which for some stupid reason made Lily want to cry. Resisting laying her head on his shoulder and holding on for dear life, Lily stood dead still in his embrace, and when his arms relaxed some, she stepped free.
She felt a blush climb her cheeks as all conversation stopped and everyone turned to stare at her. Geoff kept his arm about her shoulders and casually walked her farther into the room.
"Everyone," he said, his voice a low rumble demanding attention from his gathered family, "this is the very brave Dr. Lily Munroe. How's the shoulder?"
She shrugged. "I didn't notice it when it happened."
Geoff smiled. "I'm sorry you were hurt, but I'm glad it wasn't anything serious. And since I know the first question she'll ask is about Derek, the answer is: he's out of surgery, in recovery and is expected to be fine. So while he gets his beauty rest, let me introduce you to the rest of the family."
Fine.
Safe.
Alive.
Lily felt a smile curve her mouth even as her heart began to beat in a regular rhythm again. Not usually shy, she was still grateful for the solid presence of Derek's father beside her. She met Derek's twin, Kane, and his extraordinarily beautiful redheaded wife, A. J. And although the brothers looked alike, Kane wasn't nearly as commanding a presence as Derek.
Marnie pushed through her much taller brothers. "Give her a break, you guys!" She practically snatched Lily from her father's side and wrapped her own arm about Lily's waist. "She's just lived through a harrowing experience. Let her at least sit down."
"I don't need to s—"
"Michael." A tall brother—good Lord!—wearing an eye patch introduced himself with a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you for saving my brother's butt. We owe you."
"You're wel—"
"Hey, my turn." The petite woman at his side muscled in. She grabbed Lily up in a tight hug, difficult to do since she looked to be about eighteen months' pregnant. "Thank you. Oh—I'm Michael's better half, Tally." She patted her enormous tummy. "And these two are Sarah and Jason. They only look full grown," she said dryly, stepping back. "They have four months to go before they hatch. And not a moment too damn soon, I say."
"That's—"
"Huntington St. John. Call me Hunt," her hero of the hour said smoothly, breaking in. The helicopter pilot was as tall as the Wrights, with an austere face and cool, light eyes that seemed to see everything. God. Another mind reader. "You were extraordinarily brave up there," he told her, his eyes gleaming with sincerity. "And you kept your head. Derek's a lucky man."
Lily felt the sting behind her eyes, and almost lost it. "Thank yo—"
Another brother stepped up to hug her. Lily managed a wobbly sm
ile as she caught Hunt's eye, and he winked at her. The next brother, one she'd never met but who was easy to identify as a Wright, grabbed her up in a careful bear hug. God, she hadn't had this many hugs in her entire lifetime.
"Kyle," he told her with a smile as he set her down. "And this is my bride, Delanie." He introduced his pretty blond wife, who was also pregnant.
"I can't tell you how impressed I am that you landed that plane without knowing how to fly. You're my new hero." Delanie gave her a brief hug and a big smile. She patted her little round pooch under a red sweater with an arrow pointing down. "Fee and Fo. No names as yet." She grinned engagingly. "Three months along, and we already know they're going to be giants. Okay, okay. I'm moving!"
Lily had a growing sense of unreality and found it hard to focus on the voices coming at her. She sensed the blood draining out of her head, and swallowed the pool of saliva, praying she didn't pass out like a rock at these nice people's feet.
Someone else came up to hug her. Lily started to feel a greasy, cold sweat break out at her hairline; nausea rose in waves, making her skin prickle, and the lights in the room sparkled and shimmied.
There seemed to be a million people in the room all wanting to hug, pet, pat and kiss her. Lily didn't feel like a hero. She felt like a piece of saltwater taffy being pulled and pulled and—
"Absolutely fine," she answered someone's question automatically, for what seemed like the hundredth time, as she forced down some serious nausea. "Yes. Really. Excuse me a moment. Have to go to—" She gestured vaguely down the hall. Giving the room in general a confident smile, she made a dash for the door before anyone else could hug her.
Shoulders stiff, Lily walked quickly down the hall, past one bathroom and then another, past the nurses' station and an empty gurney. Her mind raced, her heart pounded and her stomach did a slow, sliding spin ending in a sickening lurch.
Far away from the waiting room filled with pregnant women, Wrights and assorted other strong personalities, Lily knew she wasn't far enough. The adrenaline—which had kept her going, kept her sane, kept her able to land a stupid plane when every instinct inside her had wanted to run screaming into the darkness—had now dissolved. And without the rush of heart-pounding fear, there was nothing to hold her up anymore.