by Kathryn Shay
Around noon, Alexis opted to eat lunch with the female office workers who sent out for subs. She knew from experience what a wealth of information they could provide. The women ate in the conference room, in deference to Alexis, she suspected.
“So,” Alexis asked, picking up her turkey sub. “Why do you all work here?”
Betty shrugged. “It’s not the pay.”
“I can imagine”
“I love this place,” she went on, carefully patting her mouth with a napkin, and munching on her salad. Alexis hadn’t noticed before how beautifully her brown hair, laced with gray, framed her hazel eyes. “My son was medevaced off the lake ten years ago from a boating accident. Guardian saved his life. Afterwards, I came over to see if I could volunteer, but there was a secretary’s paid position open, so I applied for the job.”
“Great story.” She turned to Ann Martin, the bookkeeper. A small woman of Asian descent, her black eyes sparkled like onyx. “How about you, Ann?”
“It’s exciting. Life and death all the time. Some of our rescues are phenomenal.”
“Tell me about a few.”
“My favorite involved a thirteen-year-old girl who got stuck in the mud and was suffering from hypothermia. She made it.” The woman smiled fondly. “Teddy and Spence were a mess when they got back.”
“How about the guy who got his leg severed in a motorcycle accident?” Marcia Cone, the receptionist, suggested. She was a plump woman, probably in her forties, with kind blue eyes. “The only reason he didn’t die before we got to him was that his thigh was wedged in a patch of moss and it acted like a tourniquet.”
Alexis noticed she used the plural “we.” They were a team and for a moment, she felt the brittle chill of exclusion. In each of the Castle Enterprises divisions she’d worked over the years, she was the interloper. Had she missed out on something? “Are rescues the only reason you work for Guardian?” she asked to no one in particular.
At that moment, Sally entered with her lunch bag and plopped down in a chair. “Well, some of the pilots and medics aren’t bad eye-candy in those flight suits, either.”
The women laughed.
Alexis was hit by a sudden vision of tall and lanky Spence Keagan in his uniform. Eye-candy? Maybe a woman might think so if she liked his type.
“I work here because I have a chance to contribute to society and earn the money I need.” This came from another secretary, Patty West; short and slender, she worked in fund-raising for the director of development.
Yet another altruistic response, Alexis thought, as she finished her sub. She thanked the women and watched them hurry back to their jobs.
After the meal, Alexis spent an hour studying the log of calls. She was dumbfounded by the variety of emergencies, the danger of the rescues, and the number of patients lost. Guardian was only called to critical accidents, so the mortality rate was high. How could they bear to see all those dying people and not be able to help? By two o’clock, her esteem for the crew at Guardian had shot up, right along with the mercury.
Tired, and hoping for a dip in the lake, she closed the log book and looked around. No one but Sally, the dispatcher, was in the control room. Rising, Alexis stepped out to the reception area. No one there, either.
Music came from the break room and she headed toward it. Pausing outside, she heard Spence’s deep voice rumble, “No, Jenna, baby, don’t be stupid.”
She recalled the conversation she’d overheard between her aunt and Spence.
Oh, it was awful. Jenna went with him.
No, my girl wouldn’t do that, Clare.
Was his lady friend inside? Alexis didn’t think that was appropriate. Maybe she should question how the place was run. Needing to think about what she’d heard, she pivoted to leave when another male voice joined in. “See, I told you, Keag. She’s gonna get it on with old Ray, there.”
“Oh, hell.” Spence again.
Then a couple of female voices. “Sorry Keag…”
“What’s the matter with her…”
Intrigued, Alexis entered the room. From the doorway at the back, behind the furniture, she saw that the pilot, the paramedic, a secretary, the bookkeeper and a mechanic were all avidly staring at a television screen. The women flanked Jim on the couch. Spence Keagan perched on the armrest, coiled tight, like he was about to set foot in a race.
“Oh, no,” Spence shouted and hit his head with the palm of his hand.
Openmouthed, Alexis stared at them, then shifted her gaze to the TV. On screen was a gorgeous, well-built blonde. Huge blue eyes. Hair rippling down her back. Pouty lips. She was being scooped up by a good-looking, black-haired man; a close-up showed her nestling her face in his shoulder. Then the screen darkened and a deep male voice announced, “Join us again tomorrow for The Heart’s Choice.” Loud music swelled as Spence swore, Jim shook his head, and the women sighed.
Jim stood, turned and then noticed her. “Oh, hi, Alexis.”
The heads of the others whipped around.
“Hi.” She glanced at the TV, unable to keep her surprise hidden. “What are you doing?”
Rising, Spence jammed his hands in his pockets. “Um, you caught us at our only vice.”
“Soap operas?” She could hear the incredulity in her own voice. Maybe even the criticism.
“Yeah,” Jim said. “Just one. We been watching it for years. Keag here’s madly in love with Jenna.”
“She’s his type, all right,” Sally added, entering the room. “Tell me what I missed.”
Once more, Alexis stared in disbelief at the six adults as they discussed soap opera characters as if they were real people. The group talked without a whit of embarrassment. She noticed Spence was particularly possessive of Jenna.
All of it was behavior Alexis couldn’t fathom.
She caught Spence’s eye. He was studying her. “You think we’re nuts, don’t you?”
“No, I’m just surprised.” Again, the critical tone. Damn.
He moved to stand in front of the others by the couch, as if to protect them. From her? “You think we should be embarrassed about this.” It was clear from his challenging tone he was defending his group.
“No, not embarrassed exactly.” She shrugged. “Well, maybe a little bit.”
Stiffly, he crossed his arms over his chest and pinned her with a harsh glare. The easy camaraderie was doused by her disapproval. “We deal with life and death every day, Ms. Castle. We see things you’ll—hope to God—never even glimpse. If I were you, I’d be embarrassed about begrudgin’ us a little escape.” With that he stalked out of the room.
“What got into him?” Betty asked. “I’ve never seen Keag act like that.”
“He was probably just kidding,” Jim said lightly.
But their faces said they didn’t believe him.
Alexis opened her mouth to speak when the shrill of a phone rang through the small building.
Everybody froze, then darted out, swishing past her.
Jim said simply, “It’s the bat phone.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“MVA ON INTERSTATE 90. Four-car pileup. Third-degree burns on one of the victims Transport needed to City Hospital in Rochester.” Sally Summers relayed the information to Spence as he hurried to the weather computer. Although everyone joked around in the long stretches of downtime, the Guardian staff turned stone-cold sober after a call. Spence’s heart beat wildly and he could feel the adrenaline rush through his body. The sky was clear blue and the situation on the ground critical. This was a run.
He saw Alexis watching from the doorway, taking in all the details. At least she was smart enough to stay out of the way.
“They’ll check the weather while the ground crew wheels the ship out of the hangar. We’ll lift off within five minutes of the call.” Carl Danner had materialized next to Alexis and explained the procedure.
“What’s Sally doing?” Spence heard her ask. The dispatcher was talking to the rescue personnel at the scene—probably f
irefighters. The location indicated that they had worked with Guardian before, so they’d know how to prepare a landing zone. Once, Spence had set down in a field of tree stumps, which was dangerous because they could have smashed his fuel-tank and caused an instant explosion. Thankfully, those firefighters were experienced, too, and had marked the stumps to avoid with neon flags.
“Sally’s making sure the rescue squad has cleared the LZ,” Carl told her. “The landing zone. It has to be free of debris, or else we face deadly airborne projectiles. We also have to keep back onlookers.”
“I never realized what went into one of these rescues. I’m fascinated.”
“The on-site personnel then position streamers for us to indicate wind direction, because the ship has to land and take off into the wind.”
Alexis nodded, awed by the operations center as if she were watching the first moon launch. By the time Spence got the okay on the weather—he’d get the coordinates from Sally later in the air—he heard Carl finish the spiel about correct LZ preparation.
But he erased Alexis Castle from his mind as he zipped past. He was ready to fly.
In minutes, he’d boarded the plane, strapped himself in and tightened the belts; he yanked the headset on, feeling its familiar heavy weight against his ears. The engine sparked to life with a loud growl and he thrust the throttle forward. Like a spaceship in an old sci-fi movie, the helicopter lifted off. In the air, he spoke alternately to Sally and the battalion chief at the scene, who was in charge of the rescue.
“LZ is secure,” a confident male voice told him. “The police have Interstate 90 cordoned off for a half mile in either direction; no problem with landing.”
“Copy,” Spence said as they flew west. “No trees or power lines?”
“None.”
“Is firefighter apparatus secure?” Doors left open on trucks or canvas over the hose-bed could be ripped off in the wash from the main rotor. Most people didn’t realize that the velocity of a helicopter could reach 60 to 80 mph. A tropical storm was upgraded to a hurricane at 73 mph.
“All secure,” the chief informed him.
Jim took over from there, conferring with the ambulance crew about the burn patient who needed to be transported. Over his own headset, Spence heard the details—a twenty-five-year-old woman with third-degree burns on her hands, legs and feet.
“Better than the face and groin area,” Jim mumbled to himself.
“BP is low and she may go into shock,” the medic told Jim.
Spence’s heartbeat kicked up. They would have to get the woman to a specialist burn unit as quickly as possible. She could die if the burns covered a large percentage of her body. At the least, immediate medical treatment would prevent excessive scarring.
In five minutes they reached the accident site. From two hundred yards above, Spence could see it was a mess. Five cars had plowed into each other. Two had front ends like accordions, two had spun around and were piggybacked, and the last vehicle had obviously caught fire; its charred remains looked like a prop from a disaster movie. But this was real life. Spence winced, wondering how many casualties there were.
“This is Aircraft GB Number One approaching the LZ. Status report requested on other victims.” He veered in for a landing. He would need to deal with the families and friends at the accident scene, while the medics tried to save lives.
“One fatality. Driver of the coupe.” The firefighter chief hesitated. “A seventeen-year-old boy.” What a waste. All rescue workers hated to see young victims. Spence thought about his son. And Jeff’s safety.
Blocking out his own fears and regret, Spence concentrated on landing the helicopter. In minutes, he was on the ground, about forty feet from the pileup.
Jim shot out of the cabin like a bullet and Spence followed suit. They removed the collapsible wheeled stretcher from the patient compartment, which Jim then dragged away. Spence assessed the situation. Four occupants of the cars were still here—the others must have already gone to local hospitals for treatment. The ambulance crew was preparing the burn victim for transport. Jim would get her stats and vitals, transfer her to the stretcher, and then they’d be off to City Hospital. Since all that would take at least ten minutes, Spence wouldn’t leave the ship hot. He shut it off, briefly configured the cabin and checked by phone with the hospital personnel.
Then he approached the firefighters. “Spence Keagan,” he said, holding out his hand. “What happened?”
The battalion chief introduced himself as Tom Jenkins and nodded to the most badly damaged car. “The kid had open beer cans in the front. You figure it out.”
Scanning the area, Spence noticed a young girl sitting alone. “She with the boy?”
“No. She’s with the victim you’re transporting. The kid’s not hurt, but very shaky. For some reason the fire was confined to the driver’s side of the car. We got it out but not before the woman was burned.”
Spence nodded and crossed to the young girl. She looked about twelve and sat on a guardrail, shivering, though she was wrapped in a lightweight Mylar blanket on an eighty-degree day. Her braided red hair was messy and her freckled face stark white. “Hi. I’m the helicopter pilot, Spence Keagan.” He kept his voice gentle. “What’s your name?”
“A-Annie”
He indicated the victim with a wave of his hand. “Is she your relative, Annie?”
“M-my aunt.” The girl peered up at him out of huge brown eyes awash with tears. Her lips were trembling. “We were going shopping at the mall. To get summer clothes for me.”
Reaching out, Spence smoothed down her tangled hair “I’m sorry. We’ll be takin’ her to City Hospital in Rochester.”
The girl had been clutching the blanket, but she let go to grab his hand. He noticed hers was scraped and crusted with blood. “Will...will she be all right?”
“I don’t know, Annie.” He squeezed her fingers, his heart twisting. “We’ll do our best.” Out of the corner of his eye, Spence saw Jim beckoning him. “Is someone comin’ for you?” he asked her.
“They called my parents.”
“Good. Be sure to tell them we’re going to City Hospital in Rochester.” For comfort, in case she could take it in, he added, “They have the best doctors for burns.”
Rising, he left Annie to direct the transfer of her aunt into the helicopter. Once she was tucked in the passenger compartment, they lifted off. They had been on the ground ten and a half minutes.
Jim stayed in the back with the patient. As Spence set a course for Rochester and alerted the hospital to their ETA—estimated time of arrival—Jim tried to comfort her. “You’re going to be all right, ma’am.” Although she floated in and out of consciousness, he talked to her quietly. “I’m going to elevate your legs to keep your blood flowing.” Spence had noted the signs of shock when they’d bundled her into the ship: cold clammy skin, profuse sweating and pale skin color. It was important to keep her blood flowing because minutes without oxygen could cause brain damage or even death.
They arrived at the new heliport on the roof of Rochester’s City Hospital in eleven minutes thanks to a hefty tail wind. Emergency medical personnel met them as soon as they alighted and quickly wheeled the patient to the ER.
“Good work,” exclaimed one of the emergency room workers. “You got here in record time.”
Grinning, Spence took the clipboard, signed off on the patient, and said, “That’s what I like to hear.”
Together, he and Jim returned to the roof and climbed back into the aircraft. Without a word, his buddy raised his hand. They gave each other high fives and big smiles. At times like these, Spence knew exactly why he loved his job.
o0o
AT FOUR-THIRTY, only sixty minutes after they’d left, the pilot and paramedic of Guardian Flight Base deplaned and marched into the hangar like soldiers returning from war. They’d done battle with the enemy— severe injury, possible death—and won. Jim Wolinski was perspiring and Spence Keagan’s body was still edgy from
the adrenaline rush, but they sported the smiles of conquering heroes. Why not? They’d just saved a life. Following it backstage—hearing the updates over the radio, tracking the progress of the rescue—had entranced Alexis.
The staff lined up in the bay area, like private cheerleaders welcoming home the winning team. They whistled and yelled and slapped the pilot on the back and hugged the paramedic. From behind the crowd, Alexis watched the two men repay every hug and slap.
And they told stories; details drifted back to her. “…third degree burns...a seventeen-year-old drunk...innocent little niece…”
Wistfully, Alexis wondered what it would be like to live your life saving others, or being part of a team who routinely orchestrated such miracles. Clearly, everybody at Guardian took ownership of the rescue.
“We get somewhat carried away at times like these,” Grant said beside her. He’d returned from his meeting just as the aircraft landed.
Alexis flicked him a quick smile, but her gaze was drawn back to the reception. “I think it’s great.”
Smiling, Grant folded his arms across his chest. “Ours is a tough business. We lose so many people that the saves are a real cause for celebration.”
As if he’d heard, Spence looked up and caught Grant’s eye. A poignant communication passed between them.
In a second, the moment was gone and Spence grinned wickedly. “Drinks on the boss at Casey’s at seven?” he shouted so everybody could hear.
Grant nodded his agreement.
More cheers went up.
“Does everyone go?” Alexis managed to ask.
“All but the night shift. They’ll get some of the off-duty pilots and medics to meet us. Not much drinking involved, especially for the crew on tomorrow, and none for the pilot, but they’ll have fun.”
Fun, Alexis thought as the crowd began to disperse. What was that? Had she ever really known?
“Would you like to come with us?”
“I—”
Spence reached them, precluding Alexis’s response. “What do you think, old man?”
“It’s why we’re here.” Grant enveloped Spence in a bear hug. Alexis added her own congratulations. “What a wonderful thing you do.”
