stood up, careful not to hit his head on parts of the hanging interior. “I’m good to go. I’ll check the crew first,” he said.
She moved, shrinking far enough back in the small space to let him pass without touching her. He was grateful for that. His nerves felt pretty raw. When the copilot announced that they should prepare to crash, he’d prepared to die. Had said a quick prayer, said a mental goodbye to his parents and to both Ethan and Mack, the best friends a man could have had. And he’d thought about Elle, whom he’d loved and lost and never known why.
“I’ll need some light,” he said. She handed him the flashlight. He took it, careful not to brush up against her fingers.
He saw the young copilot sitting in his chair and moved toward him. “My name is Brody Donovan. I’m a doctor,” he said.
“Thank God, a doctor,” the young man said, his jaw clenched tight. “I hope you don’t deliver babies for a living.”
“Orthopedic surgeon,” Brody said.
“My lucky day,” the copilot said.
Brody wasn’t so sure of that. He’d seen enough to know that the young man had a compound fracture of the tibia.
“What’s your name?” Brody asked.
“Angus Bayfield.”
“Angus, I’m going to be able to help you, but for now, I need you to not move that leg.” When a bone broke and one end protruded through the skin, that meant that there was another sharp end still inside the leg, able to do all kinds of damage to veins and arteries. The blood loss wasn’t bad and he wanted to keep it that way.
“I’m going to quickly assess the others,” Brody said. He’d been in a combat zone for a long time. Triage was the name of the game. Assess everyone, identify the wounded, identify those most critically wounded that would benefit from treatment, and proceed from there. “Are there any other flashlights on board and what about a first-aid kit?”
The man pointed over his shoulder toward a big flashlight that was still miraculously hanging on the wall. Brody reached over and unsnapped the straps that kept it in place and flipped it on. It lit up the whole space, much better than the small flashlight that Elle had given him.
There were sections of the roof of the plane hanging down and exposed wires. The front windshield was shattered, making it difficult to see anything outside.
He heard movement behind him and turned. It was Elle. He handed her back her flashlight.
“I’m going to sit with the Hardys,” Elle said.
“Tell them I’ll be there in just a minute.”
“Sir,” Angus said, “there’s a first-aid kit under the captain’s seat.”
Brody fished around and pulled out the rectangular aluminum box. Holding the flashlight in one hand, he used his other to flip open the lid. He made a quick assessment. Basic stuff. Bandages. Gauze. Alcohol sponges. Ibuprofen. Antiseptic wipes. Antibiotic ointment. Adhesive tape. Scissors. Several pairs of gloves.
He turned toward the pilot. The man was still strapped in and he was regaining consciousness. He pushed himself back from the controls, almost to the point where he was sitting up. He looked stunned. There was blood running down the side of his face from a hell of a gash on the side of his head where something had obviously hit him.
“I’m a doctor,” Brody said, his voice gentle. “I can help you.”
He lifted the man’s wrist and took his pulse. Steady. Maybe a little slow but not alarmingly. He needed to get the bleeding stopped. “You’ve got a head injury. Are you in pain anywhere else?” he asked.
The man shook his head, very slowly. Brody didn’t believe him. He wasn’t confident the man even realized that he was a pilot and that his plane had just crashed in the Amazon jungle.
“What the hell happened?” Brody asked, turning towards the copilot.
“I’m not sure. There was some kind of malfunction with the electrical system. We lost power. Captain Ramano did a hell of a job keeping us out of a spin.”
Captain Ramano didn’t add anything to the conversation, confirming for Brody that he was definitely injured.
“The lightning?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve flown through storms before with Captain Ramano and we’ve never had any trouble.”
First time for everything. “Did you get a distress call through?”
“We did. Although I’m not sure how much good it will do. Even using satellite imaging, it’s hard to find a plane in the rain forest.”
He was probably right. Rain forests were known for their dense canopy of trees, and that would complicate an air search. But he couldn’t focus on that right now.
“I’ll be back,” Brody said.
Pamela was sitting in the first row, staring at the door, looking as if she intended to make a break for it. He did not relish the idea of chasing after someone in the dark jungle. “Pamela, I need your help,” he said.
She didn’t answer but she did stand up. He led her back to the cockpit, where he opened the first-aid kit again, removed a wrapped gauze pad and opened it.
He motioned for her to get as close to the pilot as she could. “I need you to press this hard against that cut. Can you do that, Pamela?”
“I’m not touching blood.”
He’d been just about to get to that. He pulled a pair of gloves out of the first-aid kit and handed them to Pamela. She hesitated and then put them on.
“Okay,” he said. “Put pressure on and don’t stop until I come back.”
He shone his flashlight ahead of him. At the back of the small plane, Elle was kneeling next to the elderly couple. Her hair was still dark, cut shorter than it had been in college when she’d worn it past her shoulders. He could see her slender neck, her collarbone.
Elle had always been slim and in good shape. She’d been a good athlete, too. The bar where she’d worked had fielded a volleyball team that played on Sunday afternoons, and he’d loved watching her. So graceful yet she could jam the ball down an opponent’s throat.
Now she had one arm out, patting the shoulder of Mrs. Hardy, who was talking a mile a minute. She had her other arm tucked into her side.
When she heard him moving down the aisle, she stepped aside.
The elderly woman stared at him. “My husband says it doesn’t hurt, but he can’t move. Please help him. You have to help him. We’re on our fiftieth anniversary trip. He’s—”
“I’m going to do everything I can,” Brody said. He looked at the woman’s cheek. She had a cut that was bleeding, but it didn’t look deep. “But here’s what I need from you. I want you to stand up and move to the other side of the plane. I’m going to need your spot.”
The
