She spotted a laceration on his forehead. Head wounds bleed a lot, so that could explain it. A soft moan escaped his lips when she touched the area to examine it. Even better.
Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawled toward the side of the plane to the emergency compartment. Even though he’d only carried two passengers this morning, Captain Shear hadn’t neglected to give them a preflight safety chat. Hard to believe it had only been a few short hours since they’d taken off from Pacific Cove that morning. They’d flown up the coast to tiny Windsor Island in Washington’s Puget Sound, where Mia had helped a pregnant mare in distress deliver a healthy foal. They’d only been a few miles from home when the plane’s engine stalled and then continued to falter. Within seconds, Captain Shear had placed the Mayday call that they were going down.
Along with the first-aid kit and life jackets, she was relieved to find an inflatable raft. Slipping a life jacket on, she set two others aside. As she gathered what supplies she needed, she tried to figure out how she was going to load two unconscious people into a life raft. Because surely the plane would begin sinking soon? It was already tilting to one side. There was no way she was going to be able to stabilize any spines; she’d have to take her chances. Using a gauze pad, she wiped at her head and slapped a large bandage on it. She wasn’t concerned about the wound, but she needed to keep the blood from dripping into her eyes so she could see and then somehow get them all out of here. No way was she going to survive a plane crash only to drown in this freezing cold ocean. Fate had given her this chance and she wasn’t going to waste it.
On her way back to the captain, she stopped to check her mom’s pulse again. No change. By the time she got back to Captain Shear he was coming around, mumbling incoherently.
“Captain Shear? Russell? Can you hear me?”
Holding a sterile pad to his head to slow the bleeding, she continued talking to him.
“We’re alive.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, but Mia was relieved by the sound.
“Yes! We are, thanks to your excellent piloting skills.”
“How’s Nora?”
“She’s alive but unconscious.” She had already liked what she knew of this man, but his questioning the condition of his passengers while in his current state solidified those feelings and then some.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. Tiny cut on my head.” She managed a small smile as she wrapped his head wound and secured it with some tape.
“How am I?” He winced as he asked, and she could tell he was in serious pain.
“My earlier cursory exam suggested you have a broken clavicle and arm, and possibly a fractured leg.”
“That’s why I can’t move it. I was afraid I was paralyzed.”
“That’s right,” she said, although she had no idea if it was the truth. She didn’t know if he was talking about his arm or leg, and she didn’t ask. The fact was, he could be paralyzed, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him that.
He tipped his chin up, eyes focused on the ceiling. “I hear them. Do you hear that?”
Oh no, she thought, was she losing him? “What do you hear, Captain?”
“It’s all good.” His lips curved up into a smile as his head lolled to one side. “We’ll be fine now. We’ll all be fine...” His lashes drooped to cover his eyes, but the remnants of his smile lingered.
Mia went still, holding her breath and concentrating on the sounds around her. She couldn’t hear anything but the incessant pounding of the ocean’s waves against the plane, the groaning and grinding sound of twisted metal. Terror made her heart race. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than she knew... She reached out to check his pulse again.
His eyelids popped open. “I’m not losing my marbles, Dr. Frasier.” He added a chuckle. “Coast Guard helicopter. Go check on your mom. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”
* * *
PETTY OFFICER JAY JOHNSTON of Coast Guard Air Station Astoria was elbow-deep in a pile of chopped onions when the emergency call came in. Making chili wasn’t part of a flight mechanic’s normal duties, but it had sort of become one of his. His upbringing had ensured that he knew how to cook for a crowd and on a budget, which is how he often ended up here in the kitchen. An earlier transmission from an airplane en route to Pacific Cove had reported engine trouble. The second and last communication had just confirmed that the plane was going down.
Abandoning the chili pot, he hurried into his flight suit, grabbed his gear and ran to the Jayhawk helicopter. He was the first one there, but his teammate and friend Aubrey Wynn, the rescue swimmer on duty, was close behind him. Seconds later they were joined by Lieutenant Commander Holmes, the pilot, and Lieutenant Reeves, the copilot.
Within minutes the team was taking off, heading toward the last known coordinates for the plane. They discussed the possible locations of the fuselage.
“I know Captain Shear,” Jay said when he learned who was piloting the small fixed-wing aircraft. “Great guy. He was in the Air Force. Flew small planes and floatplanes for years in the Alaskan bush. He has skills. There’s a very strong chance he managed to land it in one piece. I think the plane could be floating down there.”
Lieutenant Commander Holmes was unsure. “There was so little time from the Mayday to the loss of communication. The chances of him managing a water landing are slim...”
On it went.
Jay glanced over at Aubrey, who was staring straight ahead. Her lips were moving, but no sound emerged, and he knew she was silently singing the words to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” over and over again. It was part of her ritual and hey, who was he to question the methods of the best rescue swimmer he’d ever had the pleasure of working beside? Jay felt confident that if there were survivors in the ocean, this crew would bring them safely on board.
As the flight mechanic, operating the hoist to lower the rescue swimmer into the water was part of his job. After locating the accident site, the RS would be attached to a cable whereupon he, along with the precision flying skills of the pilot, would lower the RS into the water or onto a ship as quickly and efficiently as possible. Sometimes the target could be as small as a few square feet. Barely enough room for a person meant there was no room for error. Jay knew he was good at his job, but that didn’t stop the rush of adrenaline before every rescue. Lives were on the line—literally.
The voice of the copilot, Reeves, broke into his thoughts. “There it is!”
His gaze locked onto the location. The plane was floating on the surface like he’d hoped. Jay smiled. If anyone was alive inside, and he felt the possibility was strong, this could make the rescue go much more smoothly.
“Jay, what do you think?” Aubrey asked. “As close as you can on the starboard side?”
“Yes.” They went over the maneuver while he prepared the cable. Aubrey removed her ICS, or onboard communications, while he slid open the door of the helo. At this point, they would rely on hand signals until she’d boarded the aircraft below. She positioned herself on the edge and within seconds he signaled to her with a tap on the chest.
Indicating she was good to go, he released the cable, hoisting
