TRAPPED (3 page)

Chapter Three

He stretched out her arm, raised it above her head and, at exactly the right spot, used the heel of his hand to pop the joint back into place.

She let out a hiss of air. He’d seen big, tough guys yelp when they experienced the same thing. “Okay?” he asked.

“Lovely,” she managed.

He almost smiled. “I think it’s possible that the captain has some internal injuries that we’ll have to watch for. He probably hit the dash pretty hard. I’ll bandage his head after I set the copilot’s leg. Unfortunately for Angus, we don’t have any ice and it’s going to be difficult to keep the swelling down. His leg really needs stitches, but I didn’t see any needles or thread in the first-aid kit. Same issue with Captain Ramano. I’d like to stitch up his head wound.”

“I have a sewing kit,” Elle said. “It’s just a small one. I think it was a giveaway at a conference I attended a couple years ago and I toss it in my carry-on when I travel, just in case.”

It was better than nothing. The needles wouldn’t be nearly as sharp as what he was used to, but he could make them work. He could sterilize the needle and the thread with one of the antiseptic wipes in the first-aid kit. Not great but better than leaving a gaping wound. “Please get it,” he said.

She found her bag in the rubble and dug through it, pulling out a tiny plastic box with three needles and six small coils of thread in it. She handed it to him.

“What else do you need me to do?” she asked.

The Elle he remembered had turned a little green when he discussed the surgeries he was observing in medical school. “There’s going to be blood,” he said.

“I’ll be okay,” she said, swallowing hard.

He studied her. So familiar. Yet so different. It was hard to get his head around it, so he did what was simple. He pushed it to the back of his mind. There were wounded. That’s where his energies needed to be.

“Okay. Clear some space in the aisles. It’s the only place where there will be room to work. I really need something to...” He let his voice trail off. He saw something that would work. In Mr. Hardy’s seat pocket, there were several newspapers. Brody grabbed one and handed it to Elle. “Once the space is clear, lay this down on the floor.”

He was going to need something to sop up the blood, especially if he got unlucky and the sharp edges of bone cut a vein or an artery.

“If I only had a scalpel, I’d be in good shape,” he said, under his breath.

Mrs. Hardy pointed to one of the large suitcases that had spilled out of the cabinet. “I’ve got a knife in with my makeup. Never gets caught by airline security.”

Brody figured security had seen it but just decided they didn’t want to have the twenty-minute conversation with Mrs. Hardy about why she had to fly with a knife. He opened the suitcase. Mrs. Hardy’s makeup was in the zipper pocket. He was surprised when he saw the lovely pearl-handled instrument, tucked in beside lipsticks and powders. He’d expected something like a butter knife or at best a little pocketknife. No. Mrs. Hardy was
packin’
. Fully unfolded, the knife had at least a three-inch blade. The woman could have done some serious damage with it.

Brody looked from the knife to Mrs. Hardy and then back again. “And I had to give up my four ounces of shaving cream,” he said.

Mrs. Hardy smiled. “There are advantages to being an old woman.”

Brody tested the point against the palm of his hand. It was very sharp and would make a difference. “Thank you,” he said, and started for the cockpit.

When Brody got there, Angus had his head back and his eyes were closed. Captain Ramano also had his eyes shut. Pamela was wide-awake and looking pretty agitated.

She was still dutifully pressing down on the pilot’s head wound. “How is he?” Brody asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not the doctor,” she said crossly.

“You’re doing fine,” Brody assured her. “The bleeding looks as if it has stopped. You can go back to your seat.”

He’d assist Captain Ramano once he finished with Angus. He tapped the young man on the shoulder. Angus opened his eyes.

“So it wasn’t a dream?” Angus said.

Brody shook his head. “Wish it was, my friend. Once we get that leg set, you’ll feel better. I promise.”

He helped Angus up out of his seat. There was so little room that as careful as they were, at one point Angus brushed his injured leg against something and let out a yelp as if he were an injured dog.

The young man leaned heavily on Brody as they carefully maneuvered back to the main cabin area, where Brody helped him lie down. Angus wasn’t a big guy, but he filled the small center aisle, and right now he looked as if he was about ready to pass out. His pant leg was still rolled up and Brody got his first really good look at the leg. It was already starting to swell. Brody untied the man’s shoe and took it off.

It was going to get worse before it got better. This was frontier medicine and he didn’t even have any rotgut whiskey to give to Angus.

Elle took a spot on one side, Brody on the other, each of them shoehorned in the seating area. Both were on their knees.

She could see the pain on Angus’s face and she looked up at Brody. “He’s lucky you were on this plane,” she said.

He didn’t answer her.

When Brody didn’t answer, Elle realized that the young man she’d loved was gone. Instead, there was a stranger, who didn’t feel the need to be particularly polite to her.

The Brody Donovan she remembered was always polite. She’d met him during his first year of med school. Had known he was supersmart after an hour of conversation, not because he told her he was—he just was. She’d enjoyed it when he and his friends came into the little bar where she’d been cocktailing. And when he asked her out, it had been flattering.

She’d declined. Men like Brody Donovan were out of her league. But he hadn’t given up. Finally, she’d agreed, thinking it might be a nice holiday romance, and to her great surprise, and great joy, it had worked. They had clicked.

Loved the same movies, enjoyed the same food, laughed at the same things. She hadn’t been a bit surprised when she learned that he’d been an Eagle Scout in middle school and the senior class president in high school. When he casually mentioned that his father was a novelist, she’d rather belatedly put together that Larry Donovan, hottest thriller writer around, was Brody’s dad. Learning that his mother was a scientist who worked off and on for NASA didn’t even make her blink an eye.

Brody was special.

When he graduated from med school with honors and had been accepted into his first choice for a residency program, everybody had assumed that he was rightfully on his way.

Everybody loved Brody. And she had, too. Which had made leaving him the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

Brody opened the sewing kit, threaded a needle with a piece of dark blue thread and set it down on the spread newspaper.

He opened a couple packages of antiseptic wipes, then handed her a pair of gloves and slipped a pair onto his own hands. “Angus, I’m going to move your bone back into position. To do that, I’m going to make a very small incision, but given that I don’t have anything to numb the pain, it’s going to hurt. I need you to keep the leg as still as you possibly can. Can you do that for me?”

Brody’s voice was calm, reassuring.

Angus nodded.

“Elle, wipe that blood away,” Brody said, his voice still calm.

She took the antiseptic wipe and as gently as possible, tried to clean around the wound so that Brody could see what he was doing. Her stomach was jumping.

“After that, I’ll be ready to stitch up the wound and bandage it. You’ll be on the road to recovery. How’s that sound, Angus?” Brody asked.

He got a nod from the man.

“Okay,” Brody said, his voice soft. He wiped the knife off, using two more antiseptic pads.

With confidence that she could only imagine, he made a small incision on Angus’s leg. The young copilot jerked and moaned but kept his leg fairly still.

Then, using his hands, Brody pressed on the protruding bone and eased it back inside the leg. He was concentrating fiercely and she knew that he was trying to align the two sections of snapped bone so that healing could begin.

“It’s going fine,” he said, smiling at Angus.

The young man nodded and closed his eyes.

She’d always assumed that Dr. Donovan would have a good bedside manner. So confident, so smart. So calm.

Once Brody seemed satisfied with the position of the bone, he looked up at her. “Wipe off the needle and the thread with the antiseptic wipes.”

She did as instructed and then handed him the needle.

“Thank you,” he said automatically. “I need you to gently press the edges of the wound together while I stitch it up.” That part seemed to go relatively well. The stitches closing up the incision were a nice straight line. When he got to the torn jagged edges of skin where the bone had poked through, they weren’t quite as pretty.

Still, Brody looked satisfied when he put the needle back down on the newspaper. The wound was closed and the bleeding had stopped. He opened the tube of antibacterial cream and spread a liberal amount over the whole area. Then it was a bandage and some tightly wrapped gauze.

Brody took off his gloves and dropped them on the newspaper, then patted Angus’s shoulder. “All done.”

“Thank you,” the young man whispered.

Elle didn’t need a medical degree to know that she’d just witnessed something amazing.

“Now what?” she asked.

“I need to find something to immobilize the leg, to give the bones a chance to knit together.”

His gaze settled on Mrs. Hardy’s dark suitcase. It was still open from when he’d gone looking for the knife. The suitcase was a roller, with a nice sturdy handle. He ran a hand down the back of the suitcase before he looked up at Mrs. Hardy, who had been watching the entire process with Angus. “I might be able to use this,” he said.

“Take what you need out of it,” Mrs. Hardy said.

“It’s not quite that easy,” he said. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to need to tear the bag apart. I can use the two rods that connect to the handle.”

Mrs. Hardy shrugged as if to say that she and her husband had survived a plane crash and she didn’t intend to sweat the small stuff.

Brody used Mrs. Hardy’s knife to cut through the fabric, exposing the rods. Elle wasn’t an expert, but they looked perfect. At least twenty inches long with a plate that attached them at the bottom. There were screws that connected the plate to the wheel assembly and another set of screws that fixed the rods to the handle.

Elle leaned toward the young pilot. “Angus,” she said softly, “do you have any tools on board, like a screwdriver?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Brody was already using the end of the knife to turn the screws. It was slow going, but he was making progress. Finally, the rods were loose. He looked up. “I need some strips of cloth.”

“I’ve got T-shirts in my bag, young man,” Mr. Hardy said. He pointed to a small bag that matched Mrs. Hardy’s. It had somehow ended up near the front of the plane.

Brody opened the suitcase and pulled out several white T-shirts. He cut one into strips and used two more to wrap around the metal rods.

Then he put the padded rods in place, one of each side of Angus’s leg. The metal plate at the end of the rods fit underneath Angus’s foot.

Then Brody efficiently used the strips of T-shirt to tie everything tight. When he finally sat back to inspect his work, Elle could tell that he was pleased. He patted Angus’s shoulder. “We’re going to help you get up. You can take a seat in that last row so that you can keep your leg extended straight.”

It was awkward, but between the two of them, they managed to get Angus up from the floor and onto a seat. There were beads of sweat running down the young man’s face by the time they were finished.

“Thanks, Doc,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Brody said, smiling.

“I’m worried about Captain Ramano,” Angus said. “I don’t think he’s doing so good.”

“Don’t worry,” Brody assured him. “I’m going to check him next. First I’m going to elevate your leg a little. Just stay still.” He grabbed several magazines that were lying around, stacked them and slid them under Angus’s foot. Then he pulled a small foil-wrapped package of ibuprofen out of the first-aid kit. “Take a couple of these. It will help with the discomfort.”

Elle reached for her backpack and pulled out a bottle of water that she’d bought at the airport after she got through security. She handed it to Angus.

Angus braced himself up on one elbow and took a big drink.

“Better save some of that for later,” Brody cautioned.

The passengers all looked at each other. They heard the unspoken warning.
We may be here awhile and we don’t want to run out of water.

Pamela stepped forward. “Someone needs to be in charge of supplies. I’ll do it.”

Everyone was looking at Brody. He’d become the leader of the group, whether he wanted the post or not. “That’s a good idea, Pamela,” he said. “I suggest everybody throw in what you’ve got in your bags and we’ll take an inventory. Just in case,” he added.

Rather optimistically, Elle thought. She’d been living in this part of the world for several years. Planes didn’t frequently crash in the jungle, but when they did, sometimes it took weeks to find the wreckage.

“I’m going to stitch up Captain Ramano’s head wound,” Brody said.

Elle swallowed hard. She’d gotten a look at that cut. “Do you need help?” she forced herself to ask.

Brody shook his head. “I’ll manage,” he said. “Do you think you could clean up Mrs. Hardy’s cut on her face?”

She was getting the better end of the deal. “Of course.”

“If there’s any glass, leave it and I’ll remove it,” he said.

Elle didn’t see any glass or anything else in Mrs. Hardy’s cut. She cleaned it with an antiseptic wipe, smeared antibiotic cream on it and covered it with a small bandage. She could handle this kind of first aid. There was always some kid at the school getting a scraped knee or a skinned elbow.

She was almost done when Mrs. Hardy turned her head to look at her. “Do you and Dr. Donovan know each other?”