Page 65 of Asystole

“I don’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “What I mind is trying to dodge the ICU tower during take-off while thirty-five-mile-an-hour wind gusts try to push me into it.”

“Have you gotten a call?” he asks, turning serious at my tone.

“No, but I’m not going to sit around on edge all night waiting for a call to come in and then have to have this conversation with you while someone’s life is on the line.”

“What would you have me do?” he asks, but my answer is ready.

“Call for more critical care ground units tonight,” I reply. But immediately, I hear my own words from earlier echo in my head. The roads are worse than the skies.

“And risk the drivers’ lives instead?”

“Shit,” I mumble before sighing.

“Look,” Mark says reasonably, “I don’t want to lose any of my pilots or the EMS guys tonight, so when the calls come in, use your best judgment. I won’t fight you on it. If it’s not safe, don’t fly. Emergency cases will have to make do at local hospitals until the weather moves out.”

Although I appreciate the support, his words don’t do much to lessen my anxiety. I’ve never been one to leave someone stranded.

My eyes stay glued to the weather report for the next several hours.

It’s five a.m., and instead of dying down, the winds have sustained their gusts ahead of a winter storm that will supposedly dump close to nine inches on Back Bay by tomorrow afternoon.

The gusts coming off the water are certainly concerning and have my stomach in knots. I think back to the research I’ve been doing on the Coast Guard Auxiliary. Flying over open water is a whole different beast than flying over land. Although I’m confident I could be trained for it, and it would definitely sharpen my skills as a pilot, the thought of not going home terrifies me in a way it never has before.

Despite the rift between us, the thought of not getting home to Chase leaves me nauseated and appreciating the mundaneness of my job for the first time ever.

The thought damn near knocks me on my ass.

Okay, so maybe I’ve got some feelings I need to address where Chase is concerned. It seems Chase has been right about a lot of things.

It’s time to stop running.

Feeling better after resolving to come clean, face the music, and talk to Chase about how I’m feeling and what’s going on in my head, I sit down with my book and attempt to wait out the rest of my shift.

I have six chapters of Mockingjay left when the call comes in.

“Life Flight Team Bravo Chopper 1, Metro Dispatch. Scene call, snowmobile vs motor vehicle collision, Carlisle, Havenbrook Ct. and Highway 6. Time out 4:47.”

I don’t hesitate to respond, which is kind of a relief. I’ve spent the last several hours thinking through what I’d do if the call came in. Would I go? Or would I refuse? I know which option is smarter and safer, but I also know that anytime a snowmobile goes up against a car, it doesn’t end well for the driver of the snowmobile, and there’s a damn good chance that person won’t see tomorrow if I don’t get to them in time.

Racing toward my locker, I’m thankful for the barest hint of gray light coming in through the windows in the hallway. I’ll need all the help I can get with visibility.

“Metro Dispatch, LF1449, copy scene call snowmobile vs motor vehicle collision, Carlisle, Havenbrook Ct. and Highway 6. 4:47. We have two crew on board. Fuel on board: one hour forty minutes. Time to takeoff five minutes.”

“LF1449 copy.”

My flight nurse is also in the locker room. Helen is smart as hell and a no-nonsense kind of woman. She gives me a curt nod as we simultaneously tug our flight suits on over our day clothes.

“It’s going to be a rough ride,” she says, her voice steady and even, fully aware dispatch is still on the line…unlike Chase.

My chest pinches at the thought of Chase. I wonder if he’s in this building. Did he have any trouble driving in?

I force myself to focus, remembering that I’m going to talk to him when I get back. Enough is enough with this tension.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” I reply to Helen, finally believing it.

This is what I do. This kind of danger is what I’ve been wanting, so why the fuck am I getting all freaked out about it now? It’s not like we haven’t had bad weather since I’ve been here.

Because it’s the first time the possibility of not making it back actually matters, I remind myself.