The rib spreader was in place. His hands were slick.
“Clamp’s not holding…goddammit, suction!”
A nurse’s voice cracked, “She’s crashing.”
He stepped back, eyes wide. Hands floating over the table, he panicked. “I can’t, I?—”
The OR tech grabbed lap pads and compressed the wound. “Doc, get your head out of your ass.”
FORT NOVOSEL TARMAC
Ian Chase made the call before he notified Mike. The Chase jet out of the New Orleans branch hadn’t even cooled on the runwaybefore trauma surgeon Hunt Montgomery and PA Lucas Hale were through the rear ramp.
“Where is she?” Hunt asked.
“Medical Center Enterprise twenty minutes from here,” the liaison said. “Base surgeon’s already in. She just came out of the air five minutes ago.”
“She’s hemorrhaging,” Lucas said, scanning the tablet. “V/S unstable. This kid operating is in over his head. He’s not trained for pelvic trauma or mass chest collapse. It’s a level-three trauma center.”
“Why didn’t they fly her to a level one?” Hunt roared.
“She coded.”
They hit the door to OR 3 eighteen minutes later. Hunt didn’t knock. Didn’t announce. He stepped inside and saw the chaos. “You need to slow that bleeding now.”
The young surgeon looked up, stunned. “Who…?”
“Now.”
Hale moved in behind him, already suiting up. “Let’s keep her alive, ladies and gentlemen.” And just like that, control shifted.
Shannon’s vitals were falling. But they weren’t finished.
CHASE HQ
The secure line rang once. Ian picked up. “Chase.”
“Colonel Prescott,” came the voice. “Johnson’s in surgery. I’m calling as promised.”
Ian didn’t sit. “Status?”
“She coded on arrival. They’re working. Your surgeon, Dr. Montgomery, just took over with PA Lucas Hale.”
Ian nodded slowly, breath tight. “Thank you for telling me first.”
“I figured you’d move fast.”
You were right.” He hung up.
Ford was standing just inside the threshold. Ian looked him over once. “Go with him.”
Ford’s brow creased. “I’ve got him.”
“Good. He doesn’t need to be alone. I’ll be down as soon as I set some things in order.” Ian picked up his phone again and tapped a number.
REAGAN AIRPORT, PRIVATE GATE – 0852 HOURS
Mike Johnson stood at the edge of the Chase jet’s open ramp, jaw locked. The pilot was already prepping for immediate takeoff.
