Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington stood watching as the launch made its way out of the breakwater and moved swiftly towards the cutter. Both men refused to go below until the blond man was safely onboard with them. The small launch fought its way through the ever-increasing waves and both men sighed with relief as it came up next to the Cutter.
Chris was lifted into the boat just as the first streaks of lightening scorched its way across the sky.
“You guys better get below,” Hendricks ordered as he stepped on the deck.
“On our way,” Buck said and he placed Vin’s arm over his shoulder and followed the retreating stretcher that carried their leader. They ducked through the opening just as large drops of rain splattered across the deck.
“Vin, I want you over here now,” Jackson called.
The younger man grimaced as Buck helped him towards the bunk. “Not yet, Buck. I have to see Chris!” Tanner exclaimed.
“Oh no you don’t,” Jackson said. “I want you tucked in here.”
“Mr. Tanner, I don’t have time to fool around. Get in the bunk and stay there. As soon as I’ve finished securing Chris I’ll set up an IV on you. Nathan, once you’ve got him settled would you check on the others for me?”
“Sure, Jessica,” Jackson said as Buck deposited the protesting man on the bunk.
Jessica Turner opened the package containing the oxygen mask and placed it over the blond patient’s mouth and nose. She opened a small bag attached it to the pole over the injured man’s head and connected it to the established IV. She checked the man’s vitals again and once she knew there was nothing else she could do she walked to the bunk where the younger patient lay. It didn’t take long to establish an IV and make sure the patient was secured in the bunk. She added a small injection of morphine to an IV junction, hoping to alleviate some of the man’s obvious pain. She checked to make sure the wound wasn’t bleeding anymore and then stretched her aching muscles.
Turner looked around the tiny infirmary and noticed each bunk was occupied. She saw Nathan Jackson checking an older man. She turned to see a man with a moustache kneeling beside a younger dark haired young man. “Ok, listen up. I need you all to go to the quarters you’ve been assigned to. We’re going to have to ride out this storm and I don’t think any of you are in any shape to handle staying on your feet. Nathan, are you all right?” Turner asked as the boat took a particularly deep roll before righting itself.
“I’m fine,” Jackson said and was met with a chorus of laughter.
“He suffers from seasickness,” Sanchez explained.
“You want some Dramamine?” Turner asked.
“I think I’d better if I’m gonna be able to help you here,” Jackson answered as he swayed on his feet.
“You’re not going to be much help as it is. Why don’t you and,” she turned her head towards the moustached man.
“Buck Wilmington..”
“Why don’t you and Buck go to your bunks and get some rest?” Se said as she passed Nathan two tablets.
“I’d rather stay here,” Wilmington told her.
“I’m sure you would, but there’s just no room. I need to concentrate on my patients and I can’t do that if I have to worry about one of you getting in the way and being injured. Mr. Hendricks assigned you a bunk now go to it.
Buck wanted to protest but another deep dip sent him sliding across the floor. Turner reached out and grabbed his arm before he slammed into the wall, saving him from injury. “Does that convince you?” she asked.
“Come on, Buck, no sense adding to the injured list,” Jackson observed. The two men stumbled out the door and headed for the sleeping area they were assigned to. They held the rails on the walls as the storm outside intensified and the Cutter battled its way through the violent onslaught of wind, rain, and heavy seas.
Turner stood next to the bunk holding the blond man. She checked her other patients and made sure they were all ok. She’d given Josiah Sanchez something for pain and the man seemed to be resting comfortably. She’d been informed by the Captain that they’d be out of the storm in approximately an hour and ETA to homeport was one hour, forty-five minutes.
Jessica Turner had been in many storms but this one was rated one of the worst. She knew the Cutter was a first class boat and would weather this storm as easily as she did the others.
Holding the rail of the blond’s bunk she checked the man’s vitals once again. The blood pressure remained the same, but his temperature was higher. She watched as the man’s eyes fluttered and slowly opened, his hands clenched into fists and he struggled to rise.
“Oh no you don’t,” Turner said as she held the blond down.
“W...who are you? Where’s Nathan? Vin!” Chris asked weakly.
“I’m here, Cowboy,” Tanner said as he reached for the straps that held him to his bunk.
“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tanner. I’ll take care of him. Chris my name is Jessica and you’re going to be fine,” Turner explained.
“What’s w...wrong with Vin?”
“I’m fine, Chris.”
“W...we on a b...boat?”
“You’re on board the Coast Guard Cutter Galveston Island. We’re en route to Guam,” Turner explained.
“Guam?”
“That’s our home port. That’s enough questions for now. I want to check a few things. Can you squeeze my fingers for me?” she asked as she placed her middle and index fingers into the open palms of the patient’s hands. She felt the blond squeeze her fingers and smiled at him. She made a note of the findings on a chart. She pulled back the blanket she’d covered her patient with once she’d cut off the remainder of the tattered clothing.
“Chris?”
“Hmm.”
“Try wiggling your toes for me,” Turner ordered softly.
Chris knew something was wrong. He remembered Nathan asking him to do the same thing and he’d been unable to do it then and he couldn’t do it now. “I can’t,” he said weakly, his voice revealing a hint of the fear he felt.
“Ok, Chris, that’s fine,” Jessica said as she scribbled a few more notes in the chart. The boat took another dip and she struggled to grab the railing before she was thrown across the floor.
“A storm?” Larabee asked.
“Just a little blow,” Turner answered as she placed her hands on the patient’s ankles, working her way up to his knees. She watched for any reaction from her patient. Her hands went past the knees to rest on the muscular thighs.
“Your h...hands are c...cold,” Chris muttered as he felt Turner’s hands on his upper legs.
“You can feel that?”
“Yeah,” the blond mumbled tiredly.
Turner made a note in the chart, relieved to see that there was no change as yet. She reached down and checked her patient’s right arm, noting the swelling seemed to have increased since the first time she checked it. She checked the nail beds and noted they were still pink.
“Jessica?”
“Yes, Chris.”
“W...what’s g...going on with me?” he asked as he tried to get more comfortable on the tiny bunk. He found his movement limited and wondered why he couldn’t move. He cried out as pain suddenly flared from the center of his back.
“Chris!” Tanner cried from his bed. Sanchez and Dunne watched the blond carefully, but refrained from asking questions.
“Stay where you are, Mr. Tanner,” Turner ordered as she examined her patient.
Chris gripped the sheets with his left hand as the agony spread outwards from the wound in his back.
“Easy, Chris,” Turner soothed as she watched the patient. There was nothing she could do to ease the man’s suffering. She needed to be able to assess his body for changes and to do that he had to remain alert.
Chris thought the pain would never end as he lay in the bunk unable to move. Finally it subsided and he was able to get his breathing under control. He opened his eyes and once again asked. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Knife? Broke off?” Chris asked, not really sure if he remembered correctly.
“That’s right. That’s why we’ve got you immobilized. I’d like you to try and rest for a while. Think you can do that?”
“Think so,” the blond said as fatigue dragged him back under.
“How is he?” Tanner asked worriedly.
“He’s holding his own right now, Mr. Tanner.”
“What does holding his own mean?” Dunne asked.
“It means his condition hasn’t changed,” Turner lied, knowing whatever was happening under the cast was getting worse. She had no way of removing the cast from the arm to check it and hoped they made it to the hospital before it cut off the circulation.
For the next hour the Cutter sliced its way through the high seas caused by the hurricane. Rain pelted heavily against the deck, drowning out the sounds of the boat’s engines as she fought her way out of the storm. The vessel rolled heavily as the waves swelled and dipped, sometimes making it seem that the cutter stood on end.
Nathan Jackson groaned with each roll of the boat, not even the Dramamine helped in the turbulent seas. He’d long ago given up the contents of his stomach and decided he just wanted to die and be out of his misery.
Buck was in the bunk next to the healer and heard the man’s obvious discomfort. Knowing there was nothing he could do for the man he stayed where he was and continued to talk with Ezra Standish in the next bunk. “How’s the arm, Ez?” Wilmington asked.
“It’s a little sore, Mr. Wilmington, but not too bad,” Standish answered as he relaxed against the pillows. “It sounds like Mr. Jackson is not enjoying this experience any more than he did the last storm.”
“I think you’re right, Ez, I don’t remember ever seeing him so green,” Buck observed.
“How are the others doing?” Standish asked. He’d been ordered to his bunk as soon as he was brought on board.
“Vin’s side’s infected and he’s on an IV. JD’s got a couple of cracked ribs. Josiah’s got a broken ankle.”
“And our fearless leader?”
“Chris was still out when Jessica ordered Nathan and I out. She’s got him on IV’s and some kind of antibiotics.”
“Do you think he’ll be ok, Buck?”
Wilmington knew Ezra’s use of his first name showed just how worried the man was about the injured blond. “Chris is one of the most stubborn men I’ve had the fortune to meet. That man’s been through hell and back and he’s still breathing. I don’t think a tiny piece of knife in his back is going to keep him down. Not for long anyway,” he said.
“I hope you’re right, Buck.”
‘I do too,’ Wilmington thought. “Get some rest, Ez, I think we’re gonna need it,” he said aloud.
“Goodnight, Mr. Wilmington,” Standish said reverting to his old protective mode.
“Chris,” Turner said as she placed her hand on the blond’s good shoulder.
The injured man opened his eyes, he hadn’t slept much since the last time he woke because of the almost continual pain lancing through his back. “Y...yeah,” he answered weakly.
“We’re out of the storm and on our way to port. I’m going to get you ready to be offloaded. Okay?”
“O...okay,” Larabee said as he waited for the woman to run him through the tests again. He knew things were getting worse as the last time she tested him he was unable to feel the woman’s hands on his thighs. It took a lot to scare the leader of the seven, the thought of losing the use of his legs was one of them.
“Can you squeeze my fingers?”
Chris did as he was told and waited for the next phase. As Turner put him through the standard tests Larabee tried to ignore the despair that clouded his mind.
“That’s good, Chris,” Turner said as she checked her patient’s injured arm. She noted the increased swelling and checked the nail beds. They continued to show pink but she couldn’t help wondering how much longer they had before circulation was cut off. “We’re all done. I’m not going to bother you any more until we reach port so you try and go back to sleep.”
“C...can’t sleep. H...hurt’s too much,” the blond muttered without opening his eyes.
“Not too much longer, Chris,” Turner tried to reassure the man.
“H...how’re the o...others?”
“They’re resting right now. Mr. Tanner is sleeping. Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Dunne are awake and worried about you.”
“T...tell them n...not to worry.”
“Only if you do the same, Brother,” Sanchez’s strong, but tired voice reached his ears and he smiled.
“I...I’ll try.”
“We’ll soon be docking but I want you all to stay where you are until someone comes for you. We’ll be taking Chris off first,” Turner explained.
“Will we all go to the same hospital?” Dunne asked.
“Yes, you’ll all be going to Guam Memorial,” Turner informed them.
“Do they have the facilities for Chris’s treatment?” Sanchez asked softly.
“Yes, Mr. Sanchez, they do.”
“How long before we reach port?” Tanner asked, surprising the others.
“T...thought you w...were sleeping, C...cowboy?” Larabee mumbled.
“Just resting my eyes, Pard. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve b...been better. You?” Chris asked as he tried to ignore his growing discomfort.
“I’m fine,” Tanner said, gaining a laugh from the other two patients.
“I take it he always says he’s fine?” Turner asked.
“Yes,” Sanchez said as he leaned up on his elbows. “Nathan gets tired of hearing those words from Vin and Chris.”
“You’re one to talk, Josiah,” Tanner laughed.
“I’m beginning to have a great deal of respect for Mr. Jackson,” Jessica said as she looked from one patient to another.
“Nathan’s a good man,” Larabee said before finally succumbing to sleep.
“How long before we reach port?” Tanner asked again.
“We should be docking momentarily. The Captain radioed ahead and there will be medical personnel and ambulances waiting. Now all of you close your eyes and relax until they come for you.”
Vin opened his eyes as two men stepped into the infirmary and spoke softly with Jessica Turner. There soft words carried across the small cabin and he listened in on their conversation.
“They’re ready for him at Guam, Doc. Dr. Mark KiloLani will be waiting when we bring him in.”
Turner noticed Tanner’s eyes open and smiled at him as the new paramedics moved to get Chris Larabee ready for transport. “Dr. KiloLani is the best, Mr. Tanner, if anyone can help Chris it’ll be him.”
“Thanks, Jessica,” Tanner said as he looked around the medic in order to watch what was being done to his friend.
“You’re welcome. Now take it easy and they’ll be back for you shortly,” Turner said as she checked her other two patients.
Vin listened to the paramedics as they spoke in calming tones to the blond. Telling him everything they were doing as they moved him from the bed onto a more mobile collapsible stretcher. His eyes met Josiah’s as Chris was taken from the room. They’d both heard the soft moans from the blond as he was taken away.
“He’ll be ok, Brother,” Sanchez said softly.
“I hope your right, Josiah,” the younger man whispered and settled back on his bunk.
“You’ll be next, Mr. Tanner,” Turner said as she prepared Vin for transport.
“So you boys ready to get off this boat?” Wilmington asked as he entered the tiny infirmary.
“I am,” Dunne answered from his bunk.
“They already take Chris?” Jackson asked as Standish followed him inside.
“Just now,” Tanner explained.
“Mr. Jackson if you hurry you can catch them. I’m sure they’d be happy with the extra set of hands.”
“On my way,” Jackson said and hurried out the door after the retreating men.
“You guys are gonna have to stay out of the way,” Turner said as two more Paramedics entered the cabin and moved to Vin’s bed.
“Mr. Standish, are you al right?” Turner asked.
“I’m fine, Ms. Turner. My arm’s just a little sore,” Standish told the woman.
“Make sure you have it checked when you get to the hospital,” Turner ordered.
“I’ll make sure he does,” Wilmington said as they moved out of the way.
The trip to the hospital was a painful one and for the first time in his life Chris Larabee was afraid for himself. He recognized the feeling because he’d had it many times before when one of his friends had been injured or missing. Now that his men were safe the feeling of fear was for himself. Fear that he’d never be able to walk again, fear that he’d have to depend on someone else to do the things he took for granted, fear that he’d have to give up his job. He felt a hand on his arm and smiled weakly at the dark skinned man sitting across from him.
“Easy, Chris,” Jackson soothed with a smile. “We’ll soon be at the hospital.”
“Okay,” the blond said as his body suddenly went rigid.
“Chris!” Jackson snapped as he watched the blond’s face take on a panicked look as the meager contents of his stomach came up in his throat. The sickly sour smell immediately dispersed the medicinal odor of the ambulance.
“Nathan, he’s choking,” the paramedic seated next to Jackson stated as he grabbed the suctioning equipment and began to clear Larabee’s mouth. “Shit,” he hissed as he watched the man’s face begin to turn blue in spite of the suctioning, “He’s not breathing! I’m gonna have to intubate him,” he said as he opened a sealed packet and began to work on his patient. “I need you to apply cricoid pressure for me, Nathan.”
Jackson pushed his fears to the back of his mind and helped the paramedic intubate his friend.
“What’s our ETA?” the paramedic working on Chris asked the driver.
“ETA ten minutes,” the driver answered as he swerved to avoid a car that failed to heed the warbling siren.
Jackson watched as the man working beside him expertly intubated the patient and attached a bag to the tube in his mouth. “You know how to do this, Nathan?” the man asked and at Jackson’s nod released the bag into his hands.
Nathan Jackson knew all about breathing for his friends. He’d done it many times since the team came together. With each breath Nathan took, he gently squeezed the bag, delivering life saving oxygen to Larabee's lungs. From his training, he knew to time each breath to the patient with his own respirations. Fighting anxiety and worry aside, he forced his own breathing rate to a normal rate.
The ambulance pulled into the Emergency entrance and was met by a barrage of medical personnel, including Dr. Mark KiloLani, one of the Island's best Trauma Team Leaders. The doors to the ambulance swung open and Nathan transferred the heavy burden of artificial breathing for his friend to the waiting nurses.
Nathan followed the stretcher carrying his friend into the emergency department, but was stopped from following them into a trauma room by one of the nurses, “Sorry, you’ll have to wait out here,” she said as she slipped inside and closed the door behind her.
Jackson stood before the door, his stomach churning at the thought of his injured friends. His eyes were drawn to the emergency doors as they opened and another stretcher was wheeled in. He hurried towards it and reached for the younger man’s hand, “How’re you doing, Vin?” he asked as he walked alongside the stretcher.
“I’m fine, Nathan. How’s Chris?”
“Nothing’s changed,” Jackson lied, not wanting to worry the younger man further. “He’s in with the doctor’s now. We won’t know anything for some time. Let the doctors take care of you and I’ll come see you as soon as they’ll let me, ok?”
“Ok, Nathan, just make sure you come tell me as soon as you know anything,” Tanner said as the orderlies wheeled him into the room next to the one holding Chris Larabee.
Nathan walked towards the waiting room, hoping to find something to wet his dry mouth. Two more stretchers passed him, one holding JD and the other holding Josiah. Both men glanced his way and mouthed the name of their leader.
“Nothing yet,” Jackson mouthed back as the two stretchers disappeared into adjoining rooms. He continued walking towards the waiting room and realized he had no money with which to purchase a drink of any kind. ‘Guess I’d better call Travis,’ he thought as Wilmington and Standish came through the doors and joined him.
“How are they?” The ladies man asked worriedly.
“Chris is in with the Trauma team. Vin’s in the room next to him. Josiah and JD are in the two rooms opposite them. I don’t know how they’re doing yet,” Jackson answered without meeting the newcomer’s eyes.
“What aren’t you saying, Mr. Jackson?” Standish asked.
“Chris stopped breathing in the ambulance,” The medic answered quietly, knowing he had to tell the others the truth.
“Jesus, is he...” Wilmington started.
“No, Buck, at least he wasn’t the last time I saw him. He’s in with the doctors now. But I have to tell you it don’t look good.”
“Do the others know?” Buck asked.
“No, I only spoke to Vin for a minute before they took him in the room. I never spoke to Josiah or JD at all.”
“I need a drink,” Wilmington muttered tiredly and sank into a soft chair.
Jackson couldn’t help but laugh. “Got any money on you?” he asked.
Wilmington and Standish looked at each other as they realized they were far from home without a penny in their pockets.
“Not a dime,” Standish answered.
“I’m going to call Travis and have him wire us some money,” Jackson said as he walked towards the payphones. He dialled the number for The Firm’s owner in Billings.
“What did he say, Nate?” Wilmington asked as Jackson put the phone back in its cradle..
“He’s wiring some money to the local bank. Should be here within an hour.”
“Did you tell him about Chris and the others?” Wilmington asked.
“I did.”
“What did the illustrious Mr. Travis have to say?” Standish asked.
“Say’s he’ll be here first thing in the morning. He’s also arranging hotel rooms for us,” Jackson explained.
“Good old Travis,” Buck quipped.
“Which one of you is Mr. Jackson?”
“That’d be me, Ma’am,” Nathan answered as a tall dark skinned girl dressed in a white uniform entered the room.
“Mr. Tanner is asking to see you,” she told him.
“Is he ok?” Wilmington asked.
“He will be. The doctor has him on antibiotics. He wants to do an exploratory laparotomy but your friend refuses to go anywhere till he finds out about Mr. Larabee.”
“That sounds like Mr. Tanner,” Standish said as he rubbed his shoulder.
Wilmington noticed and looked at Jackson. “You go ahead, Nate, I think it’s time someone looked at Ezra’s shoulder,” he said.
“I assure you I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Wilmington,” Standish said.
“Sure you are, Ez, let’s just get a doctor to confirm it,” Wilmington said as he helped Standish to his feet.
Jackson followed the tiny nurse into Tanner’s room. The younger man’s face was pale against the hospital pillow. His eyes were closed but his face was far from peaceful. “Vin.”
Tanner opened his eyes and looked at the tired medic, “Nathan, how’s Chris? They won’t tell me anything,” he said.
“He’s in with the Trauma team, Vin.” Jackson watched as the tiny Japanese nurse checked her patient. He read the name on the tag she wore, Sakura Yanagisawa, and met her dark eyes across the bed. He smiled at her as she continued to work with her patient.
“Have you spoken with the doctor about him?”
“Not yet, I don’t want to take them away from caring for Chris. Now what’s this I hear about you not letting the doctor take you for surgery?”
“Not till I know about Chris,” Tanner said as he tried to sit up straighter in the bed.
“Mr. Tanner, please lie still,” Sakura said as she checked his IV.
“Vin, you know Chris wouldn’t want you putting your own health at risk,” Jackson scolded.
“I know, Nathan, but I can’t help thinking if I go to surgery he won’t be here when I get back. I want to be here when the Doctor comes to tell you what he’s going to do,” Tanner said.
“I know you do, Vin.” Jackson said as he dropped his own weary body into the chair by the bed. Both men were silent as they thought of their friend in the next room. “Chris is strong,” Nathan assured him.
“I know he is, Nate. He’s proven that so many times.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Will you bring Chris’s doctor in here?”
“I’ll try, Vin, but you need to get some rest. I’m going to check on the others but I’ll be back, okay?”
“Okay, Nathan,” Tanner said.
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