started to inch gingerly down. The sun had slid behind a cloud and the wind whipped round them, biting through their clothes. They made it a few metres then suddenly the scoop lurched sideways and forwards. Next thing Cal knew, Shane was yelling and tumbling head first over rocks and ice.
Down. Down. Down.
‘SHANE! SHANE!’
The boss had come to a halt a hundred metres or so down the hill, splayed against the rear of the helicopter. He wasn’t moving.
Cal reassessed, looking from Shane to Marty and then back down the slope again, allowing himself the briefest moment for his heart to thump hard and fast against his chest wall. Damn. Damn. Then he closed off all emotion.
Panic didn’t help. Helplessness didn’t help. Just action. He’d learnt his lesson the hard way. Had been learning for two long years.
Two patients now. One scoop and a fledgling helper.
Their patient took priority. Getting him down the hill now was going to be a challenge.
Somehow Callum had managed to keep a firm grip on Marty’s scoop. ‘You okay, mate?’
‘Holding on,’ he groaned. ‘Just about.’
The scoop listed at a sharp forty-five-degree angle, from where Cal had maintained his hold and height, to where Abbie had been twisted by the sudden lurch sideways and pushed to the floor. She was just about managing to hold the scoop aloft with her arms outstretched underneath Marty, bearing his weight in a desperate attempt to keep their patient still and secure. There was an ooze of blood on her head. ‘Abbie? You okay?’
She grimaced, her body contorting in an effort to hold up the scoop and the man, who must have weighed three times what she did. ‘I’m fine. It’s okay.’
‘You’re bleeding.’
‘It’s nothing. I caught my head on a rock as I fell. It’s just a scratch.’ She shook her head, trying hard to pretend she was okay, but he could see right through it. ‘You should see the other guy.’
‘Sadly, I can see him.’ The boss looked knocked out and flat. Marty was groaning in agony in the tipped-up scoop. And Abbie had a cut head.
It looked worse than just a scratch, but he had to believe her because he just couldn’t do this alone. She seemed orientated and fine. Feisty, actually. He’d have a closer look once they were on safe terrain and out of danger. ‘Right then. I’m going to lower him down so we can right the scoop, then we can wait for Brian to come help.’
‘He’d be better staying down there, don’t you think? To see if Shane’s okay?’
‘I’ll talk to him.’ Cal shouted towards the chopper but couldn’t make himself heard. He flicked on the two-way. ‘Hey. Did you see Shane? He took a bad fall, he’s at the rear. Roger.’
‘I’m on my way. How are you going to manage with the scoop? Slide it down?’
‘Not sure yet. Over.’ There were too many rocks sticking out of the ground to make sliding a feasible option.
‘She’s a little thing. Roger.’
‘We’ll be fine.’ It was Abbie, glowering. She had the affronted air of someone who would not be underestimated. He knew that trait well. Too well. Someone who insisted on overstretching...and then paying the consequences. She’d lowered her side of the scoop now and was brushing the snow and ice from her clothes. As she bent to the left she winced. ‘Just give me a couple of seconds.’
They barely had one. The weather was closing in. This was all falling apart, but he needed to stay in control. ‘Are you hurt? Is it something more than your head? Did the scoop hit you?’
‘Just winded me.’ She shook her head again but he could see the way she flinched as she turned. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘I can call back-up. You won’t be able to manage.’
‘Says who? I could be a champion weightlifter for all you know. I could have won the Queenstown Primary arm wrestling competition in 1997.’ She flexed her arms, but all he could see was the huge coat covering her from neck to knee. With the head wound and her wayward hair and the enormous coat she looked like a bag lady rather than the professional she was proving to be. ‘What do you think, Marty? Am I stronger than I look?’
‘I hope so,’ Marty groaned. ‘Yes.’
She gave Cal an I-told-you-so grin that made her eyes light up and his stomach feel strange, then she shuffled to the end of the scoop and bent in readiness to pick it up. ‘So, let’s do this. What choice do we have?’
‘We could wait for back up. Or Brian.’ But even with the space blanket, Marty was shaking with cold; they had to get this done and quick.
‘He’s with Shane and it looks like he needs help too.’ Too true. Brian was trying to lift Shane up, but the senior paramedic kept buckling forward. She glanced at the swirls of snow falling around them. ‘There isn’t a choice. We have to do this or we’ll all freeze to death.’ Without any further chance at a conversation she bent at the end of the scoop and shouted, ‘Ready? On my call. One. Two. Three.’
They were badly matched size-wise, but if he kept his arms straight and stooped down low they were just about able to maintain a satisfactory balance. But it was slow going. He could see every muscle in her hands tighten and strain as she bore the weight of the hiker.
She doesn’t have gloves on.
Somewhere along the way she’d taken them off—to work the IV and draw up drugs, probably. And hadn’t had the chance to put them back on. Her fingers were white—with strain? With cold?
That was all he needed. Frostbite.
Frostbite. The enemy of the winter hiker. Could do untold damage from the inside out.
The dread swamped him along with the memories. He wasn’t going to let that happen. They were getting off this mountain without any further incident. Stooping low, he gripped harder and tried to take more of the weight. It was impossible without upending the whole thing. Regardless of how strong she thought she was, she was starting to tire—steps becoming slower as she navigated the rocks. She needed to rest without losing face, he got that. ‘Stop. Stop, Abbie. I need a minute.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ Very gently she lowered her end of the scoop then straightened up, twisting slowly left and right to ease out her muscles. Her hands were still in crooked fists and even from this distance he could see red marks on her palms. More blood?
‘Brian! Brian, come here and take over.’ They were about fifty metres from the chopper. Shane was sitting slumped against the landing gear holding his shoulder. ‘You go down and take over from Brian and he can come and help me with this.’
‘I can do this.’
He kept his voice level despite his growing frustration. ‘And I’m telling you not to. Your hands are cut and cold
