Rescue Heat (8 page)

“So, are you meeting someone here?” Brigid asked

“No, and I’m really hoping you’re going to take pity on me and ask me to join you.” Matt suddenly had an unwelcome thought. “Unless you two are here to meet someone?”

Brigid laughed and waved her hand at the young women surrounding him. “Have you found out Cairns’ dirty secret? No single man is allowed out alone.”

She lowered her voice to dramatic confiding tones. “Just be glad that you aren’t wearing your uniform, otherwise we wouldn’t have got here in time to stop the ravishment.”

Brigid pointed towards the back. “Seeing I’m in rescue it’s probably my sworn duty to let you sit at a booth with us. Go with Jennifer and I’ll get the drinks.”

Matt found himself in the unusual position of following Jennifer through the crowd, while Brigid waved a twenty at the bartender. He wasn’t used to being managed and he certainly wasn’t used to women who bought their own drinks. Jennifer smiled and Matt belatedly realised how attractive she was. Considerably smaller in stature than Brigid, Jennifer had the kind of looks that Australian travel brochures used to advertise their country; blonde, tanned, with bright blue eyes.

Dismissing these thoughts, he slid into a booth opposite his new acquaintance and asked, “Are you in medicine, too?”

“No, I’m a meteorologist,” she replied. “I know doctors are only meant to be friends with other doctors, but Brigid and I managed to beat that stereotype when we arrived here at the same time; about two years ago.”

Jennifer was pretty by anyone’s standards but Matt found his gaze turning involuntarily back to Brigid. She was confidently making her way across the room, three bottles in her hands. His wasn’t the only male gaze that followed her but no one approached. Matt guessed her height and the assured speed with which she walked kept them at bay.

He smiled his thanks as Brigid placed one the bottles in front of him and slid into place next to her friend.

Jennifer turned to her and with a laugh said, “I was just telling Matt how we acclimatised to our culture shock together when we got here.”

“Two city girls in a regional centre; it took a while!” Brigid and Jennifer shared a warm look between each other. “But we survived and look at us here, paying our dues on a Sunday night.”

Brigid addressed Matt, “So how does this compare to the Middle East?”

“Fewer uniforms,” Matt said.

Seeing the curious looks on the faces of both women made him realise he was going to have to elaborate.

“I’m used to the ratio of men to women being weighed in the other direction. US service bars inevitably have too many men.” Matt waved a hand at the heaving crowd. “Shouldn’t some of these girls be at home, doing schoolwork?”

“Young, brash and beautiful, that is Cairns’ girls,” Brigid smiled.

Matt slowly savoured his beer as his companions caught up with each other. He realised that there had been very few opportunities in his life to watch two women become immersed in the details of each other’s lives. Nothing was too small to be discussed; upcoming holidays, places they had had dinner, great runs they had had. Matt surprisingly was not bored with their minute concerns, although he was sure that some of the juicy details were omitted because of his presence. No man in Brigid’s life was mentioned, and Matt listened hard.

“Sorry Matt,” Brigid said. “It looks like the price of our protection is having to bear witness to our weekly catch up.”

“It definitely beats sitting alone at the bar. Would you girls like a drink?”

Matt wove his way back to the bar. A quick glance over his shoulder, saw Brigid and Jennifer laughing, heads together. Matt was amazed at how much softer Brigid appeared in female company. Gone were the professional reserve and barriers that kept the world at bay. Brigid’s warmth towards Jennifer was such that Matt couldn’t help an impulsive wish to be part of her intimate circle.

When Matt got back to the table Brigid was quizzing Jennifer on the latest storm projections for the summer.

“So is this year going to be the year of the super storm cell?”

For Matt’s benefit, Brigid explained. “Jennifer is a cyclone expert which is why she’s here in the Far North. Luckily though, Cairns hasn’t been hit directly since we got here.”

“The water’s warm which is a risk factor,” said Jennifer. “The current modelling is predicting that this cyclone season could be an active one. But it’s all guesswork until we see one of those monster storms on our radar screens.”

Brigid looked over the table at Matt with a smile. “See? This is why I recruited Jennifer to be my best friend. She’s my personal early warning system for damaging winds and heavy rain.”

“Yeah, well I’m only in the friendship for the free healthcare,” Jennifer said, as she bumped her shoulder against Brigid. “So Matt, seeing as we’re protecting you from the amorous advances of the wild Cairns women, what skills do you bring to the table?”

Brigid widened her eyes as she pretended to consider the question. “He’s pretty good on the ropes. So if you lose your cat up a tree he could come in very handy.”

“But I don’t have a cat and I can’t see your Moby getting up a tree,” Jennifer said with an exaggerated pout.

“Come on Matt, new skills?”

Matt made a show of flexing his muscles. “Well I can probably open a tough lid for you.”

When both women laughed, Matt realised he enjoyed the women’s gentle teasing. After a decade-long career in the Armed Forces, he was used to more rigorous forms of hazing. Those men might have been his brothers-in-arms, but boy, they could be brutal; mainly in relation to each other’s sexual prowess.

Finishing his second drink, Matt got up to leave. Enjoying Brigid’s company only emphasised no good would come of him becoming too comfortable in it. His lack of romantic interest in Jennifer, an attractive, intelligent woman, reinforced his determination to walk away. Looking across the table, he only had eyes for Brigid’s fiercer features.

“Thanks for the sanctuary. But now I’ve seen the local colour, I better get home.”

His hands-off policy extended to the social kiss on the cheek, so instead he raised his hand in farewell and headed out.

Brigid climbed out of the chopper door as soon as it touched down on a dusty road, one hundred kilometres out of Cairns. A paramedic was waiting to brief her.

“A forty-three year old man with possible crush injuries from a tractor roll. Local rescue still stabilising the scene, so we’re waiting to get obs.”

Brigid maintained a fast pace towards the group of about twenty people clustered around a turned over tractor. A scatter of vehicles and multiple uniform types told her that the police, ambulance service and SES were in attendance.

Brigid’s uniform had the word ‘doctor’ emblazoned across her chest and back. As the doctor in charge of patient evacuation, she was the senior medical officer. However, when those evacuations and extractions were difficult and potentially dangerous, it was Matt’s job to co-ordinate with the various agencies. As it was his first time on such a scene, Brigid was concerned about how he would cope.

Brigid could see a large yellow tractor upturned awkwardly. From her position on the road, she couldn’t see the man who was trapped.

Matt quickly put the medical equipment on the ground next to two police officers. “Matt and Brigid, rescue. What’s being done to stabilise the tractor so we can get some obs?”

Brigid could see a quick exchange of glances between the two local policemen that told her they had noted Matt’s strong American accent but his air of command must have been convincing enough to overcome any doubts.

“We’ve got chains attached to the tractor. But because of the way it rolled and the boggy ditch it rolled into, we can’t guarantee it won’t roll again,” the senior constable replied with respect.

“What can we do to stabilise it?” Matt asked.

“We’ve called a local property to get them to bring some heavy moving equipment but they’re still twenty minutes away.”

Brigid was listening as the officer conferred with Matt. At the same time, Chris and Dave arrived, laden with extra equipment.

Brigid immediately crouched down and pulled on her hard hat. Realistically, the protection it would provide in the situation was minimal but she was happy to comply with protocol when it didn’t compromise the wellbeing of her patient.

Brigid’s quick hands prepared the IV and cannula and she scooted around to get her first look at her patient. She felt, rather than heard, Matt come up behind her.

“We need to get an IV and monitor on him immediately,” she said, as she finished preparing the equipment.

“You can talk to the patient from out here, but don’t even think about going under that tractor until we manage to stabilise it further,” said Matt, with a flat note of finality in his voice.

Brigid couldn’t believe his message. Aware of interested ears, she kept her voice low and urgent.

“Matt look at the way he’s pinned,” she said. “If we don’t get some fluids into him quickly, he might not be here to see the equipment arrive.”

“If treating him requires you crawling completely under five tonnes of unstable metal, I just can’t let you do it,” Matt said, quietly and firmly.

Brigid was furious. Very few people were game to question her authority, especially when it came to patient care. The much more relaxed Todd, while professional, had been more inclined to abide by her judgement.

“I’ll give you ten minutes but then I’ll need to begin treatment,” Brigid said, tensely.

Matt lowered his head near to her ear to ensure not even those closest to them could hear. “You so much as put your arm under that tractor and I will have you on report.”

Matt turned on his heel and raised his voice, getting the attention of the personnel who surrounded them.

“Anyone who is not doing a specific task, I want you at least three metres clear of the tractor. If it moves again, I really don’t want to be dealing with more patients.”

Most of the emergency service personnel moved with a speed that surprised Brigid. They might have slightly discontented looks upon their faces, but the fact they did not openly rebel was a strong testament to Matt’s authoritative air.

A fuming Brigid had to swallow her frustration; she was here with a job to do. With that in mind, she again ducked down and raised her voice to her patient.

“Hey Roger, it looks like you’re having a pretty ordinary day. I know the paramedics have already asked you a lot of questions but I’m going to bore you with a whole heap more.”

As Brigid ascertained Roger’s level of pain and his mobility (both of which indicated his condition was serious), Matt turned away to confer with Dave.

“I don’t want anyone to ring my wife,” Roger said. “It would only worry her.” The cadence of his voice told Brigid that this was a man who worked long hours on the land.

Without making a physical assessment, Brigid had to rely on Roger’s verbal responses to monitor his ongoing wellbeing. The problem with your average forty-year-old farmer was his tendency towards one-word answers. Working alone, every day, didn’t give men like this many opportunities to chat. Roger certainly wasn’t in a chatty mood.

Brigid knew she had to keep his responses coming as his voice would indicate even a small change in his condition. She fell back on the favourite subject of all traditional farmers; the declining water table.

“…the bore hole is coming in at two hundred feet,” said Roger.

The halting words told Brigid that the farmer’s pain levels were worsening.

Matt knelt beside her and the intensity in his eyes told her he understood the seriousness of the situation.

“We really need to get him some pain relief,” said Brigid.

“If we’re able to get a green whistle to him, can he manage to get it to his mouth?” Matt asked.

At Brigid’s positive answer, Matt started rummaging through one of the rescue bags.

“One of the things you learn working in the field, is to improvise,” said Matt, as he pulled out a length of light nylon rope.

Matt and Dave walked around the tractor and rigged the rope, which allowed them to pull the whistle next to Roger’s hand.

Brigid spoke loudly to try to permeate what must now be an unbearable amount of pain.

“Roger, if you can get that whistle to your mouth, I promise you will feel a lot better,” said Brigid.

She watched as his hand slowly gripped the handle and awkwardly brought it to his lips.

“Nothing like the prospect of feeling better to provide a little motivation,” Matt commented.

Hearing the crackle of the radio behind her, Brigid rose and joined the knot of quietly conferring men.

“How far away is the help?” Brigid asked. “Because Roger needs it now.”

“Ten minutes,” Matt answered. “So all you can do for now is to try and keep him conscious until then.”

Matt must have seen the frustration in her expression, so he followed her back to the rescue bags.

“Brigid I’d go under there myself if it would make a meaningful difference,” Matt said. “But there is genuinely nothing that we can do, until we get a stable anchor point.”

Brigid knew he meant his words to be soothing, but they just further increased her already simmering angst. His assumption that he would be first up to take a dangerous role just pissed her off. Her training, both medical and rescue, qualified her for almost any situation and he had to understand that pronto. However, right now, challenging him could not be her priority.

“So Roger, what does that thirteen-year-old son of yours like to do?” Brigid asked, as she double-checked the medical supplies. His reply held the rasp of someone who was suppressing pain; now she had to keep him conscious.

Finally, the loud rumble of his neighbour’s tractor approaching interrupted Roger’s proud words about his son’s motor-cross racing.

It had been twenty-three minutes since the chopper team touched down and there was still work to do before they could even get a simple IV line in.

The SES crew, police, Chris and Dave swarmed the tractor as soon as it arrived. Curt instructions from Matt, however, insured the chaos was organized.