The Rescue Pilot. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ vets who couldn’t shake their PTSD enough to live around other people.

      “You’re sure you’re both okay?” he asked now.

      “Believe it,” Wendy answered.

      “Been through worse,” Yuma replied, “and walked away.”

      Chase didn’t doubt that for a minute. He, too, had flown for the military.

      “I’m gonna need you both,” he said frankly. “We’ve got a really sick woman in the tail we need to take care of, Wendy. And Yuma, I need you to help me find out what still works, and how we’re going to cope with this blizzard.”

      He received two answering nods, and both unbuckled their seat belts.

      “I’ll go back and find out what’s going on,” Wendy said. “Why do I think it’s going to need more than a first aid kit?”

      “Because I was supposed to fly them on to the hospital in Minnesota.”

      “Oh.” Even in the poor light he could see Wendy’s face darken. “That doesn’t sound good.” She rose, slipped past the two of them and headed to the rear of the plane.

      Chase turned back to Yuma. “We need to make sure we can get one of the exit doors open, and keep it clear. And a walk-around would be good before we get buried any deeper.”

      “Agreed. Then we’ll check the electronics. But first things first.”

      As they began to pull on their outdoor gear, Chase noted that the air inside was already becoming stale. The downside of having an airtight shelter. He was going to have to figure out how to exchange the cabin air without freezing them to death.

      He gave a small shake of his head. As Yuma said, first things first.

      Aurora Campbell, known as Rory to family and friends, sat on the edge of her sister’s bed in the rear of the plane and clasped her hand as tightly as she dared. Her sister had grown so thin from her lymphoma and the treatments for the cancer that holding her hand was like holding the delicate bones of a small bird.

      She hoped her face betrayed nothing of her terror. She’d deal with that later when she gave their pilot what-for. Right now she only wanted to calm Cait.

      “The hard part is over,” she lied reassuringly. “Hey, Cait, we were just in a plane crash but we’re still in one piece. What are the odds, huh?”

      Cait managed a weak smile. Even that simple expression seemed like it wearied her. “Yeah,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “And people will come to help.”

      “Yes, they will.” Despite the blizzard raging outside, despite the fact that she was fairly certain they were in the middle of nowhere. “And I’ve got enough medications to hold you until they do.” Four days’ worth. She had thought she wouldn’t need even that much, because Cait had been slated for immediate admission at the hospital they were going to. Had been going to until this freaking jet had crashed on a mountainside in what was starting to look like a damn blizzard.

      But for now she shoved her frustration, fear and fury to the background. “Need anything? Maybe I can rustle up some soup… .” God, she hadn’t even thought about that yet, either. Did this plane have anything on it besides snacks and liquor? Anything that didn’t require a microwave to cook it? Because she suspected that was one of the things that probably wouldn’t work now.

      She didn’t know much about planes, but she knew most of their electricity was generated by their engines. And this plane had no engines anymore.

      “No,” Cait sighed. “As long as we’re okay … I just want to sleep a bit.”

      Rory reached out and stroked the pale fuzz that was all that remained on Cait’s head. “You do that.” Cait was sleeping more and more of the time. Her heart squeezed, but moments later as Cait slipped away into sleep, she rose and walked out of the little bedroom.

      The other woman passenger was waiting for her. Wendy, Rory seemed to remember. On such small business jets, it was hard not to at least exchange introductions before takeoff.

      “I’m a nurse,” Wendy said. “Let’s sit and talk a bit about your sister so I can help.”

      “You can’t help her,” Rory said brusquely. “I have her medicines. What she needs is a hospital, a clinical trial on a new drug. Doesn’t look likely right now, does it?” Then she eased past Wendy and returned to her seat, blindly watching the snow build up outside the small window.

      She hardly even paid attention to the two men who were forward in the cabin, working to open the exterior door behind the cockpit. She noted that the air was getting heavy, but at the moment she wasn’t worried about that.

      All she was worried about was Cait, and right at this moment, with the world outside invisible in swirling snow, she was fairly certain there wasn’t a damn thing she could do. And she hated, absolutely hated, being helpless.

      Wendy didn’t give her long to sit in hopeless solitude. The woman came forward and sat in the seat facing her. “Cancer?” Wendy asked.

      “Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Aggressive, this time.” The words were painful, but she’d never been one to shy away from telling it like it was. No matter how much it hurt.

      “This time?” Wendy’s voice was gentle.

      Rory almost sighed, realizing that she could either choose to be unutterably rude and say nothing, or just dump it out there and shut this woman up. She decided on the latter. “She went into remission four years ago. Unfortunately, she didn’t tell me she had a relapse five months ago. I was in Mexico, and she didn’t tell me.” That hurt as much as anything.

      “So you came home to find her like this? Why wouldn’t she tell you?”

      “She’d given up,” Rory said. “Her husband dumped her the minute he heard and moved in with another woman. Kinda cuts out your heart, don’t you think?”

      “It would.”

      Rory heard the sympathy in Wendy’s voice, but she didn’t want sympathy. Sympathy didn’t help. All it did was make her want to cry. She didn’t answer.

      “You have medication for her.”

      Rory finally looked at her, her eyes burning. “Enough for four days. More than enough for a freaking four- or five-hour flight from Seattle to Minneapolis. Only that’s not happening, is it?”

      To her credit, Wendy didn’t offer any false cheer.

      “What’s she on?”

      “Immunosuppressants. Some other drugs. She’s been through radiation, obviously. But as I said, the disease is aggressive.”

      “So you’re pinning your hopes on a clinical trial of something new?”

      “Yes. I was.” That was sounded final. But right now everything felt final.

      “They’ve got some great stuff now, I hear, but I’m not up on the disease.” She leaned forward and laid her hand over Rory’s.

      Rory СКАЧАТЬ