man responded with a laugh and a thumbs-up before Zeke turned back to Jordan with a grin. “Bob Shamansky. Works for the same university I do.”
“That hat would be a good look on you, too,” she said. In truth, she found that impossible to picture, since Zeke Edwards simply oozed masculine sex appeal and sophistication. “But everyone who comes down here to work has to know polar bears only live around the north pole.”
“You’d be surprised.” He dismounted the machine and picked up a nearby pair of skis, leaning them against the snow machine. “Bob’s a chemical biologist who creates new medicines—you might be interested in talking to him about some of them, Dr. Flynn.”
“Really? I know marine life here can be used to create them. That’s so interesting.”
“It is. Now for the tricky part of the lesson.” He pulled some rope from one of the storage boxes on the side of the Ski-Doo and handed them to Chip Chambers, the station head who’d been instructing everyone, as the crew all crowded around.
“Okay, everyone,” Chip said. “It’s important to know that crevasses are everywhere out in the field. Those of us who’ve been here a lot learn to look for signs of them, but when they’re covered with blowing snow it’s a lot trickier.”
“Then how do you know if they’re there?” one man asked.
“You can’t always know. Which is why we try to have those less experienced travel into the field with someone who’s done it a lot of times, and why we have strategies for when things go wrong.” Chip held up the two ropes and began to tie them to the machine. “We attach these to the back, like so, set the throttle to a low speed and hold on as it travels, skiing behind it. If the machine heads into a crevasse, you have to release the ropes and just let it go.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” another crew member said.
“I’ll demonstrate.” Chip sat sideways on the snowmobile, put the skis on, then to Jordan’s surprise, he actually got the machine moving with the ropes trailing behind in the snow. “There’s a kill switch right here. If you fall while you’re skiing behind it, hit the switch to stop the machine. Once it’s moving, stand up and pick up the ropes, like so, then let the skis take you until you’re trailing along behind it.”
As Jordan and the others watched him stand and let the moving snow machine and attached ropes tug him along on the skis until he was slowly pulled forward, she had a feeling he made it look easy. One of the young men—a guy who’d told her he worked in the kitchen—volunteered to try it, and she was glad, because she didn’t want to be the first one and possibly end up on her face.
“Okay,” Chip said. “Skis on, throttle going, stand to pick up the ropes, then move to ski behind it. Ready?”
“Ready.”
Doing exactly as he’d been shown, it looked like it was going to be an easy ride. Until he pushed the throttle a little too fast, which made him hurry and stumble trying to grab the ropes. Jordan gasped when he got tangled up and went down onto the hard ice, shrieking in obvious pain as he was dragged a short distance before he let go.
“Hell,” Zeke said, sprinting after the machine as it kept on going. Jordan and the station head ran to see how the man might have hurt himself.
She knelt down beside the guy, who was clutching his upper arm and rolling back and forth on the snow. “Tell me what hurts,” she said.
“My arm. Shoulder. Damn it, I think it’s broken.”
“Maybe not. We’ll see. But we need to go inside. It’s too cold out here to take off your snowsuit and everything. What’s your name?”
“Pete. Pete Sanders.”
“Think you can walk, Pete?”
“I… Yeah.”
“Damn it. I’m sorry this happened,” Chip said. “But Dr. Flynn will take good care of you, I know.”
Two people who’d been participating in the snowmobile practice came over to assist as Jordan and Chip carefully helped the man to his feet. As they moved toward the station, Zeke jogged up next to them, barely out of breath.
“Looks like you’re doing okay. Hang in there. I’ll take over for you, Chip.”
“Thanks. I’ll check on you as soon as I’m done here, Pete.”
Chip moved away and Zeke held Pete steady as his dark eyes moved to meet Jordan’s. “What did he hurt?”
“About to find out. Arm or shoulder, based on what he said.”
“Are we taking him to the clinic? Is it ready?”
“Is that a real question, Mr. Field Medic?” She smiled. “It’s not fully pulled together yet but ready to see patients. But you don’t need to come.”
“Might as well see if I can help, since you’re alone there until the next boat arrives.”
“Appreciate it.” And she did. Much as she could handle whatever was going on alone if she had to, if something was broken or dislocated, having someone there to assist would be a big help, especially without a nurse.
“That was a pretty exciting maneuver there, Pete. Wish I’d gotten it on video,” Zeke said as he kept a steadying hand behind Pete’s back.
The man managed a weak laugh. “Yeah. I’m never going to hear the end of this.”
“Being famous for crashing during the snowmobile practice is better than nobody knowing who you are, right? A good way to introduce yourself to the women at the base, who’ll all feel sorry for you and ask how you’re feeling.”
“One way to look at it, I guess. Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Zeke grinned at Pete, and Jordan had to smile at the way he was taking Pete’s mind off his pain, which she had no doubt had been his goal.
As they moved through the long building, he proved to be a big help even before they got to the clinic, since he knew where to find an elevator so they could avoid most of the stairs. A good thing, because she’d been a little worried that the patient might be feeling light-headed and have trouble with that kind of exertion.
“Okay, let’s get your coat and shirt off,” she said once they’d gotten him seated on the exam table she’d thankfully just fitted with sheets and a blue paper cover. She and Zeke each carefully tugged at the wide sleeves of his coat and slipped it off, then unbuttoned his flannel shirt and did the same thing, exposing a fairly tight long-sleeved shirt beneath it.
“I hate to tell you this, but we’re going to have to cut this shirt off. Trying to move your arm and shoulder enough to get it off over your head isn’t a good idea. Okay?”
“Aw, man, I only have one duffel of clothes here to last me the year. But okay.”
“I’ll find scissors and get that done, Dr. Flynn,” Zeke said. “And don’t worry, Pete, we can always get more clothes sent here. It just takes some patience
