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Devastation

Page 87

by Paul Kirk


  “It’s another few miles.”

  “Tell ‘em we’ll be there in five,” said Shamus.

  “Willie, let Nemacolin know we’ll be there in five minutes. Over.”

  “Roger that, sir. Over and out.”

  Major McLoy turned in his seat and caught the colonel’s eye. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, major,” she answered, “I heard your entire conversation.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Willie’s good on the radio, colonel—he’ll have everyone at Nemacolin notified. They’re a great bunch of docs there, ma’am. We’ll make sure both of ‘em survive.”

  “Yeah, major, I know you’ll try.”

  Beyond the crest of the next hill, a massive clearing interrupted the trees revealing the sprawling and well-maintained grounds of Nemacolin Woodlands. An airstrip, unused in recent years, was situated on the east end of the compound. Clearly marked, two helipads were built nearer the airstrip's link to the main hotel. Each helipad was forty feet in diameter; Shamus targeted the one closest to the building and dropped the nose of the aircraft in a controlled dive. Ten people with two gurneys stood near the building entrance waiting.

  “Scott!” yelled Colonel Starkes over the intercom.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, looking up from redressing Connor’s wounds.

  “You're to stay with Colonel MacMillen at all times when he leaves this bird. There’s a team of medical personnel down there that I assume will take him to an operating room. You will attend that operation. You will assist if needed. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “GT!”

  “Ma’am?”

  “You're to stay with the other wounded man—BB."

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “GT, stay with BB throughout. I want each of you to report back when the medical outcome is apparent. Am I clear?”

  "Understood, ma'am," said Scott.

  "Yes, ma'am," said GT.

  "We're down. We're down, ma'am," said Shamus, "Go!"

  The bay doors opened as the helicopter’s skids gently touched the ground. A gurney and medical personnel waited on each side of the helicopter.

  “Move out!” shouted Colonel Starkes, "Daniels, Ren, Stimpy and McDonald, stay with the Professor and protect this bird!"

  Connor Mac and BB were positioned at each bay door for offloading. Nicole caught the attention of CJ and tried to direct his eyes toward Connor and the bay door.

  "CJ, that's your daddy. See? No, look there. Him. That's your daddy."

  CHAPTER 11.24-Cooper

  White lab coats swirled in the draft from the slowing rotors of the bird. Medical personnel offloaded Connor and BB immediately onto the gurneys. Nearing the hotel entrance doors and away from the rotor noise, a tall, handsome man with blazing eyes took over. He was clearly in charge.

  “I’m Dr. Gerry Cooper. What do we have?” He addressed Scott, correctly assuming he was the individual most suited to answer.

  “Gerry,” said Scott, “I’m Scott. I'm a medic.” He stayed next to the gurney with his hand never leaving the rail as they rushed forward. GT shadowed Scott doing the same with BB.

  “Give me your take on this, Scott—I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  “BB, who's behind us is doing okay—Mac’s doing bad. He needs surgery. His vitals are down. He’s lost a lotta blood, Dr. Cooper,” said Scott, bolstering his words with passion.

  “What’s his blood type,” asked the doctor.

  “AB positive on Mac, B positive on BB.”

  Cooper turned to a woman on his right. “Sally, review the blood donor list and have everyone who has AB positive or B positive blood to the ER. I want you drawing blood before I arrive, okay?”

  “Yes, doctor, I’m on it.” She ran to the door, intent on her task.

  “Let's get moving! I want them both in the operating rooms pronto,” said Dr. Cooper. “This Mac guy needs first priority. Marcus, Springer, this one's mine.”

  Both doctors were tending to BB and nodded. The medical personnel nimbly guided the two gurneys holding Connor and BB down the halls of the hotel.

  Colonel Starkes moved toward the Doctor. She wanted an update, but a truthful one.

  “Dr. Cooper,” she said, “I’m Colonel—"

  “Not now!” he answered. “I know who you are, Starkes. Please, sit tight. I apologize for my lack of tact, but if I have any hope of saving this guy, he needs to be on my table now.”

  “Go, doctor,” she said, without hesitation.

  “I think there’s a nicked artery in the leg or arm. If I don’t get that addressed, he’s a dead man. Medic, you need to be with me at the operating table. We're a bit short-handed.”

  “Okay, Doc, I’ll follow you.”

  “I'll need you sterile,” said Doctor Cooper. “Scrub in. It's inside the red door near the operational theater.”

  “I get it, Doc, I’ll scrub in.”

  “Good, Scott, I need the help. This time, you’ll serve as second surgeon to me. Doctors Marcus and Springer will tend to your friend—is it BB?”

  “Yes, it is, Doc. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

  “Yeah, I know. Springer and Marcus will be fine with BB. His wounds aren’t as bad and they’re perfectly capable of patching him up.” Dr. Cooper looked down at his patient. With the injection of fresh IV fluids, Connor stirred. Cooper heard him groan and saw the flutter of his eyelids. “Damn, he’s a tough sonuvabitch. He’s coming around.”

  “How far to the operating room?” asked Amanda.

  A young orderly turned to face Amanda. “The operating room is on the other side of the hotel. It’ll take us a couple minutes.”

  Amanda nodded with growing concern. The gurneys were pushed forward with impressive efficiency. Behind them, the colonel and her team followed.

  The confusion in Connor’s eyes began to clear. Despite his weakness, he attempted to lift his arm. Dr. Cooper held it down, surprised at the energy needed to do this. “Colonel MacMillen, I’m Dr. Gerry Cooper. You’re in a hospital. I’m a surgeon and I’m going to take care of you. Try not to move and try to stay calm, okay? Good. You’ve been shot, once in the arm and once in the leg. Understand?”

  Connor nodded.

  “Your wounds require immediate attention. You’re in Nemacolin’s hospital and we’re taking you to the operating room. Do you understand?”

  Connor nodded again, smiled, and then grimaced in pain. He faded into unconsciousness again.

  “He’s out again,” said Dr. Cooper. “Let’s move faster,” he urged.

  Mark Harmon met the group at a hallway corridor and bullied his way to Dr. Cooper’s side. “He alive, Coop?”

  “Yeah, he’s alive—now, move the hell outta the way, Mark.”

  “Sorry,” he said, backing off. He settled in the midst of the group following the stretchers. After several steps, he noticed he was surrounded by a group of weapon-toting strangers. “Hello,” he said amicably to a woman on his left. “My name’s Mark Harmon. This is my place.”

  Despite her concern over Colonel MacMillen’s well-being, Colonel Starkes forced a smile.

  “I’m Colonel Hannah Starkes.”

  “Madam President.”

  “We can talk about that later, general.”

  They shook hands without breaking stride and turned their attention back to the gurneys. “These guys are the best, colonel. Coop, Marcus, and Springer are excellent doctors. Your men are in good hands. We even have electricity for emergencies.”

  “Thanks, General Harmon.”

  Mark smiled at the colonel’s use of his self-designated title. His thoughts returned quickly to his friend’s condition. “You’re welcome, Madam President. And, just so you know colonel, that guy up there's my best friend. You can rest assured I’ll make sure he doesn’t die before I have a chance to kill him.”

  “Kill him?”

  “Yeah, for making me think he was dead all these years.”

  “
Oh...right.”

  He spotted Keenan slipping next to him. “Major McLoy?”

  “Sir?”

  “All this medical attention might take awhile.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to make sure you show the president and her men to the Presidential Suites when you can.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I’m placing you in charge, major. Make sure that each of them has everything they need. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Commander Bastin filled me in on the details of your run-in with the enemy. I’ve assigned Val Jarvis and her team to assist you with the newcomers. She’ll follow all your instructions.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I want you to go now to make sure everything's ready for the president and her men, then come back here to show them to their rooms.”

  “Yes, sir.” The major took off down the hallway at a full run as the stretchers arrived at the operating rooms.

  Dr. Cooper directed his team to prepare Connor MacMillen for surgery and he turned to confer briefly with Marcus and Springer. After a half minute, he walked quickly to Mark Harmon and spoke to him softly. Mark nodded and immediately ushered non-medical personnel into a waiting room. Satisfied that the situation was under control, Dr. Cooper discussed Connor's condition with the charge nurse at the operatory door. Satisfied that proper preparations were in place, he motioned for Scott to follow and entered the red door to the scrub room. Dr. Cooper wondered if they’d save either man—the blood loss was substantial.

  “Damn,” he whispered. He didn’t know anyone who had survived such trauma. But he’d heard some stories about the legendary Connor Mac over the past few years from Mark Harmon—perhaps some of it was true.

  “Scott?”

  “Yeah, doc?”

  “Are these two men gonna die? Are they tough enough to live?”

  Scott smiled. He was at the sink, scrubbing vigorously at his hands. He was calm. “Well doc, they’re here now. That’s all they needed. They won’t die, doc. You’d have to fuck up for that to happen.”

  Dr. Cooper rubbed the harsh soap across his wrists as water pulsed from the faucet. He pushed the pedal and rinsed with warm water. “So you say.”

  “Oh, it’s a fact,” said Scott. “Those two are the toughest men I’ve ever known. GT—he’s one of the guys in the waiting room—might give ‘em both a run for their money. Shamus too.”

  “Have you done any surgery, Scott?”

  “Basic stuff—in the field.”

  “Good. We have a bleeder in that arm and we need to get it addressed fast. There’s probably bone fragments, too.”

  “Yeah, doc, that’s what I figured.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  “You got it, Coop.”

  “Don’t call me that, medic.”

  “Okay, Coop.”

  “You bastard.”

  “You fix my men, Coop. Then, not only will I call you anything you want, I’ll kiss your pinky ring while I’m doing it.”

  “Okay,” said Dr. Cooper, smiling. “Follow me.”

  CHAPTER 11.25-Keeping Warm

  “What the hell?” mumbled Connor, floating into consciousness. He was inside a cold white room. The lights were blindingly bright. His eyes snapped from face to face. Everyone he saw wore a surgical mask. A machine kept track of Connors vital statistics, beeping incessantly with a consistency that signaled strength. Hoses dangled and people were touching him, wiping his body and positioning him on a cold table. He didn’t like it. “Quit fuckin’ with me!” he yelled. He tried to move his arm, but it was held firm.

  A tall man looked down at him. “Colonel, I’m Dr. Cooper. You’re in the Nemacolin hospital. We’re gonna operate on your gunshot wounds. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah, same as before,” he answered weakly.

  “Yes, that’s right. You have a bullet wound in your left arm and one in your left leg. I need to stop the bleeding in your arm. Can I push this anesthetic into the IV to knock you out?”

  Before Connor agreed, he stared back at Scott who was staring intently at Connor. The man's intensity was so bright and focused that Connor forgot his pain briefly. “Who’re you?”

  “Me?”

  “Do I stutter?”

  Scott laughed joyfully. “No, sir, you don’t stutter. I’m Scott. I’m part of the team that saved Amanda.”

  Connor closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he forced a smile past his pain. “I’m sorry, man. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I—" He attempted to raise his right hand to shake, but Scott held it down firmly.

  “You’ve have IV’s in both arms, sir.” Scott slipped his hand into Connor’s and grasped it firmly.

  “A pleasure, Scott.”

  “Same here, colonel.”

  “Scott, we don’t have time for pleasantries.”

  “Understood, Coop.”

  “Dr. Cooper,” whispered Connor, “do what you need to do. I’m in good hands if this guy’s with you.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, colonel. You need to calm down, sir—your heart rate’s elevated and your blood pressure’s causing increased blood loss,” said Dr. Cooper.

  “Sure. Okay.” Connor waved his hand weakly, asking Scott to come closer. "We’re at Nemacolin, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mark Harmon still owns this place?”

  “I dunno. Hold on.”

  “Hey Coop, is there a Mark Harmon in this place?”

  Dr. Cooper studied Scott with surprise. He nodded. “Yeah, this is his place.”

  Scott leaned closer to Connor's ear. “You hear that?”

  “Yeah. Good.”

  “Okay then, stay calm while we work on getting you fixed up…”

  “Wait, Scott!” said Connor urgently.

  “Colonel, I promise you’ll see Mark after we fix you up, okay?”

  “No! I hafta see him now. Please! Just...in case,” said Connor. He faded into unconsciousness. A nurse was on the verge of administering the anesthetic, but Scott waved his hand, stopping her. Dr. Cooper glared.

  “He needs to be down right now, medic,” said Dr. Cooper.

  “I know, Coop, I agree. But he wants to talk to Harmon before he goes under. I want to honor that request.”

  Scott slapped Connor’s face to rouse him and his eyes flared open. The brief savagery in his look surprised Scott and gave him pause. There was ferocity beneath his weakened state. “You asked for Mark Harmon. You have maybe a minute before Dr. Cooper bites my head off. Understand, colonel?”

  “Yeah. Where’s Mark?”

  “Just hold on for a sec.”

  Scott left the room and returned in less than ten seconds with Harmon. A nurse held a surgical mask out to him and he held it over his mouth and nose with his hand.

  “Don’t you touch a thing, Mark. You hear me?” asked Dr. Cooper.

  “Yeah, Coop, I know.” He approached Connor, looming above his friend. One of the nurses loaded a fresh pint of blood onto the IV tree. The other nurse stood ready to administer the anesthetic at Dr. Cooper’s command. The doctor shook his head, making it clear she should wait for the moment.

  Mark Harmon grinned at Connor. “Hey.”

  “Mark.”

  “It took ya long enough.”

  “Some traveling . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah, likely excuse.”

  “’Stralia’s lot further than you think.”

  “I shoulda known the bird flu couldn’t kill you.”

  Connor smiled and ignored the tears streaming down his friend’s face. “Are they—can you tell me?”

  “They’re alive, Mac. Terry’s alive and so are Liam and Shannon. They’re by the doors over there. Can barely keep everybody out.”

  Connor closed his eyes under the weight of his fatigue and blood loss. Perhaps he was holding together only to hear those words. He was that bad off. “My brothers? Sisters?”

  �
��Terry, Ryan, Andy, and the kids have done a great job at your place. They’re thriving. But, Melissa and Megan didn’t make it, Mac.”

  Connor closed his eyes, feeling the loss permeate his weakened body. The pain in his leg hurt like hell, but was manageable. The wound in his arm was more of a problem. The pulse of pain was maddening. He was close to unconsciousness, but he pulled himself from those depths to focus on Mark.

  “Mac, there’s some other folks demanding to see you before you go under.”

  Ryan, a mask across his mouth, appeared in Connor’s view.

  “Hey, Ry.”

  “Mac.”

  There was a commotion at the door. With immense effort, Connor, tired beyond belief, turned his head to see Andy.

  “Hey, Mac.”

  “Andy.”

  More commotion at the door. He saw her, a beautiful aura of bright light surrounding her. Her hands were to her mouth and she was crying. It was his Terry, alive, and beside her was Liam, tall beyond expectations. A redheaded Shannon clung to Liam’s hand, her bright eyes crying. Connor wanted to say so much to them, but he was too weak. He smiled thinly and closed his eyes. It had been incredibly hard work, but he had made it home. He forced his voice to speak.

  “Terry,” he said softly.

  “This man needs to be under now for surgery or I wash my hands of this horseshit!” Dr. Cooper's command of the room was apparent.

  “Do it, Coop,” said Mark.

  The nurse prepared to administer the anesthetic and Dr. Cooper selected a scalpel.

  “You’re going under for surgery, colonel. Just relax and stay calm.”

  “I’m calm, doc, just cold. So very cold.”

  Liam stood behind the adults who were deferring to the commanding presence of Dr. Cooper. Impulsively, he pushed his way through and dropped his plastic bag on the floor next to the surgery table. He removed the bear coat. Before the adults could act, the young man draped it over his father's legs and waist, deftly missing his IV lines.

  “What the hell?” yelled Dr. Cooper.

  Terry had stepped forward and Andy followed in Liam's wake. They saw Liam’s intent and they slowed the movements of those trying to intervene. Scott was in a position to stop the boy, but recognized the pleading look of his mother. He hesitated and Liam slid beside him.

 

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