Emergency Echo (5 page)

‘That's the river down there,' shouted Fergus Callaghan, his unruly red curls poking out from under his leather flying cap. ‘Which means the farm's a few miles to the north. Will have ya there in a jiffy, doc.'

Doctor Brown nodded and clung to his seat, looking straight down at his own feet.

Fergus laughed out loud and peered over
the side of the cockpit through his goggles at the rural Queensland landscape. He'd been part of the Aerial Medical Service for a little over a year and was used to navigating by looking for landmarks, but he'd never flown a DH.60G Gipsy Moth. The plane had been called in at the last moment, as all the normal aircraft were already in use. It wasn't long before he spotted the fence that marked the farm's boundary.

The people on the farm down there had no electricity or telegraph – the place was too isolated. But they had been able to call for help with a radio that was powered by a pedal. Fergus smiled.
The wonders of modern technology
, he thought.

Fergus banked the biplane, tipping it on a greater angle than was really necessary, just
to see if he could get a reaction out of his passenger. But Doctor Brown didn't move a muscle.

Must have his eyes closed
, Fergus thought. He laughed again. It wasn't hard to see how he got his nickname of ‘The Mad Flying Irishman'.

The passenger in a Gipsy Moth sat in the front seat, situated between the upper and lower wings of the biplane. The pilot sat in the rear seat, clear of the wings. So Fergus couldn't see the doctor's face.

Fergus pushed down on the stick, bringing the plane in low, searching for a place to land. He'd been told that the farm had a long stretch of straight road from the gate to the farmhouse – long enough for him to land the plane and bring the doctor right to the front door.

And there it was.

Fergus squinted down as he passed over it, then shook his head in disbelief.

‘We got a problem, doc,' Fergus shouted.

‘What?' yelled Doctor Brown.

Fergus could hear the fear in just that one word. ‘Cows!' shouted Fergus.

‘Cows?' The doctor managed a quick look over the side. ‘What are we going to do?'

‘Only one thing we can do.' Fergus was grinning. ‘We gotta scare 'em off.'

‘How?'

‘Hang on to ya seat, doc,' yelled Fergus, like a man possessed. ‘Here we go.' He roared with laughter as he aimed the plane right at the herd.

Coming in at right angles to the road, Fergus brought the plane in low, yelling ‘Faugh a Ballagh!' at the top of his lungs. An
ancient Irish battle cry, it meant ‘clear the way', which he thought was very appropriate for this situation.

Most of the herd moved on with a disgruntled moo, off the road and onto the grass. But there were two cows a little farther along that stubbornly stayed right where they were. They didn't even raise their heads.

‘Right-oh,' Fergus mumbled to himself. ‘Going to need a bit more convincing, are ya?'

He pulled up on the stick, then banked sharply, bringing the plane around in a circle. He lined up for another pass, then reached down to his feet, yanking the boot off his left foot.

‘Okay,' he said, ‘you asked for this, Bessie!'

Heading for the remaining cattle, he brought the plane in as low as he could without actually landing. He held his boot over the side before hurling it at the cows as he zoomed over them. ‘Faugh a Ballagh!' he yelled with even greater gusto.

The boot missed the cattle, landing on the road right next to one of them. But it did the trick. The startled cow let loose an alarmed moo and bolted. The second cow, scared by the behaviour of the first, took off as well, clearing the road.

Fergus brought the plane round once more, lined up with the road, and made one of the best landings in his piloting history. The plane was safely on the ground well before the farmhouse, but he taxied it all the way up, bringing the nose right to the front porch.

‘There ya go, doc,' said Fergus, after the engine cut out.

Arms and legs trembling, Doctor Brown hauled himself out of the plane, falling onto the road below. ‘You're crazy!' he declared in a shaky voice. He got to his feet and staggered a few steps before throwing up.

‘At least I managed a smooth landing,' said Fergus, suppressing a laugh.

The doctor groaned and headed for the farmhouse. ‘Damn fool Irishman,' he muttered under his breath.

And Fergus Callaghan went off in search of his boot.

‘Did he get his … boot back?' asked Alice, still feeling dazed.

‘That he did,' said Doctor Helen with a smile. ‘He found his boot and the doctor delivered a baby boy who arrived ahead of schedule.'

‘That was a great story,' said Alice, concentrating on her words. ‘Exciting. But funny.'

‘That pretty much describes my grandfather. Listening to his stories was one of the most thrilling things for me when I was a kid.' Doctor Helen leaned back in her seat. ‘He was such a natural storyteller. He had this way of making you feel like you were there with him. And his stories were all so exciting. But the thing I liked most about them is that they were always about helping people.' She grinned. ‘That's what made me want to be become a doctor. That's why I ended up with the RFDS.' As Doctor Helen talked, she ran a hand through her long dark hair.

And Alice spotted something – a flash of red at the roots.
She dyes her hair black
, she realised.
She's got red hair just like her grandfather.
The connection made Alice smile.

Suddenly the windows lit up and the boom of thunder reverberated through the plane. It sounded as if they were in the middle of an explosion, it was so loud. Alice yelped and clasped her hands over her ears.

‘What happened?' she called out in alarm. ‘Did we get struck by lightning?'

‘Struck by lightning?' Grandad's eyes were wide, his face white.

‘I wouldn't worry,' said Doctor Helen, trying to sound calm. ‘Planes these days are built to withstand a lightning strike. The exterior is highly conductive and designed to allow the electricity to pass through without affecting the instruments.'

Is there anything this doctor doesn't know?
wondered Alice. She focused on Doctor Helen's explanation and tried to convince
herself that everything was going to be okay. But amongst all the rattling and buffeting, it felt like the plane was heading down fast. Were they crashing?

The whine of the engine increased and the plane lurched up, leaving Alice's stomach behind. She clutched her sick-bag. She felt her heart race as the panic returned.
What now?
she thought.

‘We're right over the airport and ready to come in for a landing,' came Pat's voice through the speakers. ‘But we're also in the middle of the storm. The wind is pretty rough and making the approach difficult. I'm going to circle round and try again. Hold tight, folks, I'll have us down soon.'

Alice had been worried the storm might
cause the plane to crash. It had never occurred to her that the storm might stop the plane from landing.

‘Does this mean we're stuck up here in the storm?' she asked meekly, still holding onto the sick-bag.
Does that mean I won't get to the hospital in time?
is what she didn't ask.

‘No,' Doctor Helen answered quickly. ‘Pat'll get us down. He's landed in worse storms than this. He just has to do it carefully.'

They all felt the plane bank sharply and then start its descent. Another flash lit up the craft, thunder boomed and everything shook. Alice felt like the world was collapsing around her.

The rattling increased, the engine roared and water pummelled the windows. The plane kept dropping and lifting.

Will this never end?
Alice panicked.

THUMP!

The plane slowed.

‘Not the smoothest landing in history, but given the circumstances I don't think it was too bad.' Alice could hear the grin in Pat's voice. He sounded relieved. ‘Welcome to Jandakot Airport.'

Given the fierce weather, the plane taxied into a hangar before Alice and her stretcher were unloaded. As she descended on the mechanism, teeth clenched, she watched the drops of water sliding down the hull of the plane. She marvelled at this small, flimsy-looking aircraft that flew through a wild storm, bringing her safely back to earth.

‘Thanks,' she told Pilot Pat. ‘That was a scary flight. But it was also kind of awesome.'

‘I aim to please,' he said with a little salute.

‘Um …' Alice hesitated, not sure if she should ask, and not sure if she wanted to know. ‘Did we get hit by lightning?'

‘Does it matter?' Pat smiled. ‘We made it down safely.'

Nurse Cameron wheeled the stretcher to the waiting ambulance, Doctor Helen and Grandad walking either side of Alice.

‘Well, that was quite a ride,' said Grandad. ‘My first flight since my appendix ruptured.'

‘Really?' said Alice.

Doctor Helen looked at him with mild surprise.

‘I usually take the bus,' he quipped. ‘Flying is for the birds.'

‘Was that first flight so traumatic?' asked Doctor Helen.

‘Actually,' said Grandad, ‘I don't really remember much about it. I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I have fuzzy memories of being carried onto the plane. Being moved around hurt a lot, so I woke up for that bit. But then I slept. Although I do remember my dad's voice fading in and out.' He looked lost in his thoughts, his eyes staring off dreamily at nothing. ‘The doctor told me afterwards that Dad talked to me the whole way. Never stopped. Talked about the farm. Talked about what we'd do when we got back. Talked about taking a holiday. All sorts of stuff. So in case I woke up, it'd be to the sound of this voice. It was very reassuring.' Grandad's eyes grew misty.
‘I did the same thing when my son was in hospital,' he whispered. ‘Sat with him every day and talked.' His voice broke and he cleared his throat. ‘I miss him a lot.'

‘Yeah.' Alice reached up to the chain around her neck, her fingers closing around the little lump of gold. She pushed away an image of Dad in hospital, frail and drawn, and focused on the necklace instead. She was scared that she would fall apart if she thought about him too much.

Silence descended until they reached the ambulance.

‘Well, this is where I say goodbye,' said Doctor Helen a little awkwardly, realising that she was intruding on some very personal thoughts. ‘You have nothing to worry about,' she told Alice. ‘You are in the best of hands.'

‘AARGH!'

Pain tore through Alice's insides. Again, she imagined her appendix bursting apart in a geyser of pus and blood. Tears sprung to her eyes as she took one deep breath after another, trying to get through the agony.

‘Her appendix may have ruptured,' she heard Doctor Helen telling the two paramedics who'd approached from the ambulance. ‘She needs to get into surgery ASAP!'

The paramedics took over the stretcher from Nurse Cameron, who also said his goodbyes. But Alice's whole world at this moment was pain. She barely noticed being loaded into the ambulance.

Alice overheard Grandad and the paramedic talking, but couldn't concentrate
on what they were saying. And then the paramedic was fussing over her, asking about her pain, checking her pulse and blood pressure, and adjusting the drip. She answered as best she could.

‘I've upped the meds,' said the paramedic, and then Alice felt a tingling warmth spread through her body. The pain began to ease. It was still pretty horrible, but bearable now, at least. She looked around to distract herself.

She was lying in the ambulance, a very young-looking paramedic in the seat next to her. Alice was surprised to see Grandad lying in the stretcher on the other side. He waved awkwardly.

‘You okay?' she asked.

‘Fine,' he responded. ‘It was the only available spot.'

She glanced towards the windows in the back doors, rain drumming against them. The droplets of water sliding down the glass, intermingling and reflecting light, were quite mesmerising. She felt herself drifting off. Then the ambulance took a sharp turn, and she rolled slightly, pain searing through her stomach yet again.

Alice took a long deep breath and studied the paramedic. She was sure he was a teenager and, by the expression on Grandad's face, he obviously thought the same.

‘Name's Tiggs,' the paramedic said, smiling at her as he checked the drip. He glanced back at Grandad. ‘And I'm older than I look, Pops.'

‘If you say so,' said Grandad, crossing his arms over his chest as he lay on his back.
‘And don't call me Pops. It's Mr Gleeson to you.'

‘Right you are, sir,' said Tiggs, bringing his hand up in a salute, then winking at Alice.

Grandad couldn't help but smile. ‘That's better.'

‘Twenty-eight,' said Tiggs, as he continued checking Alice. ‘My age. If you really want to know.'

‘Well, you don't look it,' said Grandad.

‘It's 'cause I moisturise,' said Tiggs.

Grandad frowned disapprovingly.

Tiggs grinned and talked all the way to the hospital. He talked about how he constantly got asked for identification to prove his age, what it was like being a paramedic, and how he backpacked around Europe after
he finished high school. He talked about all sorts of things.

She found the constant sound of his voice a good distraction from the pain. Or maybe it was the painkillers doing their stuff. But she listened, particularly to his travelling tales – stories of foreign sights, sounds and tastes; stories of amazing places and fascinating people.

Before she knew it, they had arrived at the hospital.

Alice was wheeled through corridors, from room to room. But, always, Grandad was with her. In one of the rooms, she was asked to remove jewellery.

Grandad leaned over and unclasped the chain with Dad's gold nugget from around Alice's neck. ‘I'll take good care of it,' he said. ‘Promise.'

And then she was in another room and a man was introducing himself as the anaesthetist and asking if Grandad wanted to stay until ‘the patient was under'. The anaesthetist disconnected the plastic bag from the IV drip and attached a new one. Alice stared up at Grandad's face as it slowly went fuzzy …

Then blurry …

And then darkness overwhelmed her.