The med-flight touched down in the cold, gray morning, wheels screeching against the runway before the engines slowed enough for the doors to wrench open. Hunt Montgomery was waiting on the tarmac with a trauma team behind him. Theywere all in surgical caps and cold-weather jackets, breath fogging in the air. Fall temps had started early.
He didn’t wait for the crew to wheel Dante out. He boarded the plane himself, his
eyes sweeping over Dante’s flushed skin, his distended belly, the drips and the monitors. His expression went grim. “Get him inside the ambulance. Now.”
Roe clamped his exhausted hand on Hunt’s arm. “Renal failure is accelerating. He needs a full septic workup the moment we hit the bay. And, Hunt…” He shook his head.
Hunt nodded tightly. “You kept him alive long enough to get here. We both can take it from here.”
Roe sank back in his seat. He was shaking. He hadn’t eaten, slept, or left Dante’s side in almost eighteen hours.
Shannon unbuckled and followed the litter, boots hitting the tarmac before Hunt stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Shannon.” His voice was steady but firm. “You understand this next part is surgical. There’s nothing you can do in the OR.”
She stiffened. “I’m not leaving him.”
“You don’t have to.” Hunt softened just a fraction. “Stay outside the OR. Eat and drink something and take a catnap. As soon as we stabilize him, you’ll see him.”
Her chin lifted. “Okay.” Her eyes followed him. “I’ll try.”
Hunt gave one curt nod, then shouted, “Move! Let’s go!”
REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER OR
The world dissolved into motion the second the ambulance hitthe hospital. Dante was transferred onto the cold steel table, lights glaring down. Vitals tanking. Fever climbing. A second crash team assembled in the corner.
Hunt called out, “Intubation tube secure?”
“Confirmed!”
“Blood cultures, I want two sets, now. Hang meropenem as soon as you get those cultures.”
“His abdomen’s rigid with possible compartment syndrome!” a German trauma specialist warned.
“Prepare for a decompression laparotomy!” Hunt pulled up his mask and moved to scrub.
Shannon stood outside the glass doors with her palms flat to the surface, watching the blur of bodies working to keep Dante alive.
Ford joined her after a quick debrief with Bravo Team still in Africa, sweat still streaking the dust on his face. He followed her gaze through the glass. “Any word?”
Her voice trembled. “They won’t say it. But you can see it.”
Ford swallowed hard, hand bracing on the doorframe beside her head. “He’s strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“I know,” Shannon whispered. “That’s the only reason he’s still here.”
ICU
Hunt emerged first, still wearing his green OR gown. His face was hollowed from the length of the surgery.
Shannon stood immediately, Ford a step behind her.
Hunt looked directly at her. “He made it through the surgery.”
Her knees nearly gave out, but she held the wall.
Hunt continued, “We relieved massive intra-abdominal pressure from the infection, placed new drains, and started him on high-dose antibiotics and dialysis. He is still critical and septic. His temp is still high. We’ve cleaned and treated all his wounds. He’s holding.”
Shannon swallowed a sob so tightly, it burned. “Can I see him?”
