“Yes, sir.” One of the younger guys said. Mitch nodded. It had been a long time since he’d been addressed assir.
Leaving the group to follow instructions, Mitch led the other three men down the narrow pathway back to the kitchen. When he arrived he could see Nadia had given some pain relief to Buck as the other man’s eyes were closed and the tension that had been etched on his face when he found them had disappeared. Two other victims, a man and a woman were both sitting up. The woman was holding some gauze against her arm and from where he stood he could see the blood staining it. There was still debris around them but, like Nadia, they weren’t badly injured.
“How’s everything going?” he asked as he picked his way over to Nadia’s side.
“Good. I gave Buck some morphine for the pain, just enough to take the edge off. I didn’t want to give him too much until we can fully ascertain the extent of his injuries.” She glanced over to the woman lying on the ground, her face as white as the dust from the ceiling tile. “Cerise isn’t doing well. She’s got internal injuries but I’m not sure the extent of them.”
“San Antonio and Austin area hospitals are sending some life flight helicopters our way. I requested with Gene that we get one of the helos for Buck and Cerise.”
Her shoulders slumped and he knew it was from relief and not tiredness. “Good. Those guys will be able to help stabilize both of them while you and I treat them.”
She thought of them as team? A warm sensation filled the parts that had died a little while on deployment, nudging them to come alive again. Nadia believed in him, even after witnessing his attack. He appreciated that more than he could say. “What about the other two people?”
“Margie has a deep laceration on her left arm and a suspected concussion. It’s not stitched yet. I can’t be sure without x-rays but I think Roger has a broken ankle, and,” she lowered her voice, “I know he got hit on the head because we all did, and he has a small laceration on the right side of his skull. Unlike me,there is a depression at the wound site so I suspect he has a fracture and will need to be treated carefully too.”
A few short sentences confirmed to Mitch that Nadia was a more than competent physician. “What about you? What are your injuries?” He watched her closely to see if she was presenting with signs of a concussion considering, in her rundown, she’d mentioned the lump on her head. Also he could see for himself the head wound that she’d hastily put a bandage over, probably to keep the blood out of her eyes.
“I’m fine.” Typical physician, always pushing aside their own injury to the side to help others.
A commotion diverted his attention from Nadia to behind him—a paramedic team had arrived. He hadn’t heard the helicopter arrive, but they probably landed far enough away from the pub so he didn’t pick up on it.
“Understand we’ve got a couple of patients?”
Nadia brushed past him. “Yep we have.”
He stood back and observed the way she, again, systematically detailed the injuries to the two paramedics. They determined that Cerise was the most critical patient and needed to get her out first, then Buck.
Over the next hour they worked together as a team, with his combat experience and Nadia’s ER knowledge, as well as the life flight crew, they were able to extract both Cerise and Buck without incident.
“You should go with them,” Mitch commented as they followed the team back out to the helicopter.
Nadia shook her head and winced, he’d noticed that her movements had been a little restricted and sometimes she pressed a palm against her chest as she breathed. “I’m fine. There’s probably a lot more injured people that need help.”
Mitch opened his mouth to argue more, but they’d reached the copter and Nadia rushed over to Cerise’s side, stopping themfor a second before they loaded her up. He had no idea what she was saying, but she leaned forward and gave her friend a kiss on the cheek and quick hug. As they loaded her into the helicopter he noticed Nadia surreptitiously wiping her eyes.
Without even second guessing himself he strode over to her and gathered her close. He breathed in and caught the faint traces of coconut mixed in with dust and blood. “She’s going to be fine, Boston. They’re both going to be fine. You did everything right.”
Nadia shuddered in his arms and buried her head further in his chest. He closed his eyes, relishing the human contact. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to let someone close. Even before his discharge he’d closed himself off. It had been the only way he’d been able to cope with what he saw on deployment. Why would he share that horror with anyone? If he couldn’t cope, they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to.
But having Nadia lean on him brought a closeness he hadn’t permitted himself to miss. Even with his eyes shut he was aware of what was going on around him. The shouts from the rescue workers as they used chainsaws to clear the fallen trees. Sirens wailing in the night as they arrived to help or left full with injured passengers. The faint scent of moisture in the air again, suggesting rain could be imminent.
The whir and hum of the copter starting up. The slowthwump thwump thwumpof the rotors gaining momentum. The wind picking up around them, plastering his fatigues against his legs.
Wait. Something seemed different about his clothes. He opened his eyes and saw the reflective stripe down his pant leg.
Right.
Tornado.
Hunt, not Afghanistan.
He tightened his hold on Nadia and once again closed his eyes. She was in Hunt; he fought hard to stay present there with her instead of pulling her back to Afghanistan with him in his mind despite the chaos swirling so close to the two of them.
The rotors were at full strength whipping up the hot sand around him. The little granules were stinging against his bare arms and face as the medic vac copter lifted off, taking the soldier he’d worked on for hours to a base where he could get further treatment. The soldier’s life would never be the same again. Mitch hadn’t been able to save his legs. He’d have to learn to walk with prosthetics.
No, he wasn’t back there, he was in Texas, but as much as his mind tried to hang on to the present, he was being sucked back into the past. Where everything he did seemed like a failure to him. No matter the reassurances from the other doctors and nurses, nothing made him feel better. He had to do this by himself. No one could fix what he was feeling except himself. So why was he clinging to someone?
More to the point, who was this person? Hadn’t he just told everyone he needed to be alone?
