Second Chances (30 page)

@—}–—}——

Lyle returned from lunch to find Harry running though a rapid sequence of commands on his computer screen. He shrugged off the encounter with Flynn as Harry’s urgency seemed to infect him too. “What’s wrong, Harry?”

“Trying to boost the signal from our radios. Something seems to be blocking transmissions, and I don’t think it’s the weather.” He frowned, concentration shining in his brown eyes as he checked the signal readings then modified his commands again.

“What’s the urgency? Is there a problem?”

“The lads are back. They’ve tried to contact Sterling but can’t get through, Rag asked me to see what I could do. They found Gillespie…”

“Gil? I didn’t realise he was lost.”

“He wasn’t, so far as I knew. Seems to have had an accident, though. He’s out cold, they’ve taken him to his bed. Could you…?” but that was as far as he got as Lyle rushed out of the room. “Obviously not…” Garvey sighed and went back to his screen.

Gil was already lying on one of the beds in their communal room when Lyle caught up with them. He looked pale, and his eyes were closed. “What the hell happened?” Lyle demanded.

“No idea, found him down a hole,” the tall blond replied, his blue eyes on Lyle. “Friend of yours?”

“You could say, yeah. We…knew each other back in Haven…”

“Talk to him, would you? Try to get him to come round.”

“But he’s unconscious…”

“He might still hear you. Hearing is the last to go. Just try.” Rag was examining Gil’s arm. The wound looked awful, matted with dried blood, the short barbed spear sticking right through his arm.

“Gil?” Lyle turned to the matter in hand. He squeezed Gil’s good shoulder gently and leaned close, speaking into his ear. “Come on, man, we need you to wake up. Come on, Gil, it’s me, Lyle…” He wasn’t sure he was the right one to bring Gil round. Their supposed relationship had melted once Gil managed to catch Miles’s attention. Maybe he had imagined a connection with the handsome paramedic; a virgin’s wishful thinking.

“Keep at it,” Rag encouraged. He wondered what to do, whether to try extracting the spear or leave it. It was barbed and would most likely need surgery to get it clear. Rag knew he didn’t have that kind of experience.

“Rag?” It was Garvey.

“In here, Garv’. What you got?”

“Sterling, on the radio. There’s something trying to block the signal nearby. I managed to boost our signal but its a bit iffy. He’s waiting…”

“Okay, I’m coming. You,” he said to Lyle. “Keep trying, okay?” Lyle nodded and Rag left at a run.

@—}–—}——

His radio beeping took Gideon’s attention from Pierce throwing her weight around. He frowned as he grabbed it and pressed the button. “Sterling…” He snapped, hearing Garvey’s voice answering but breaking up slightly. He wandered off toward the beach out of Pierce’s range. “Garv? What gives? Over,” Gideon frowned at the radio which was giving off a lot of static.

“Boss, it…ee. Rag… Sorry…jus…foun…”

“Sorry, Garv, you’re breaking up.” There were a few more sounds and then his voice came across much clearer.

“Boss? There’s a situation. Rag needs to speak to you. Over.”

“I’m listening, go ahead.” Gideon had to wait a minute before Rag’s familiar voice came across the static.

“Having some trouble with the signal, sir. Garv has managed to boost it, but we couldn’t reach you earlier.”

“Okay, you’ve got me now. What’s happening?”

“We found Gillespie.”

“Wasn’t aware we’d lost him.”

“Neither were we, but he’s come a cropper down a hole. Been there all night as far as we can make out. I think he’s got concussion, sprained ankle, possible hypothermia and there’s a spear through his arm…”

“Did you just say spear? Through his arm?”

“Yes, boss, through it, between the bones of the forearm. Nasty injury, not sure how to proceed. The bloody thing is barbed all the way along, we can’t pull it out. It will have to be surgically removed. There’s also a chance he could have internal bleeding. He took a battering from the fall. He keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, and I can’t work out why. Can we fly him out to a medical facility? He really needs a proper doctor.”

“No can do, there’s another storm front heading our way. It’s grounded the plane at HQ, and it won’t be with us for a day or so. Garvey told me this morning before we left. Listen, prep him to travel. Take one of the stretchers we took out of the plane and put him on that. We found Sutherland over here. There’s a hospital of sorts on Rapatoka, so he can deal with Gillespie if you bring him over.”

“Okay, boss.” Rag listened to a few other instructions and then closed the connection.

Gideon turned back and motioned for Clarke to join him. “Clarkey, take the boat and go back to the island. Collect Rag and Gillespie and the equipment Rag is getting ready for us and get back here asap, you got that? Gillespie’s been injured.”

“Yessir. Will you be okay?”

“Yes, I don’t think the natives will turn nasty, but step on the gas before Pierce has a hissy fit. Second thoughts, fuck her, she’ll have one anyway. Just get Gillespie back here as soon as possible.” He watched as Clarke trotted to the boat, pushed off into the water and jumped in. He started the outboard and was off across the waves in short order. Gideon watched him go then turned resignedly back toward the others. Breslaw would have his guts for garters if he lost a man in his care before the first week was up! As he walked back up toward where he had left them talking, the White Witch gave him one of those icy stares and he was sure he would be in for a tongue lashing before long. Fuck it, she would just have to live with it.

*Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition

___________________________________________________

Afternoon, 27th January, Rapatoka

Miles waited at the water’s edge and watched the approach of the boat containing the injured Gil. The hard ball of dread in his stomach hadn’t come as that much of a surprise. Even though he’d been busy tending to Caroline and interacting with the natives, memory of his night with the young paramedic lingered at the edge of his consciousness, lapping over occasionally much like the waves at his feet. Now it wasn’t only Darren who seemed to be with him and yet not with him all the time.

While the image of making love to Gil often haunted him, other occasions also flitted through his mind: their confrontation in his office after the young man disobeyed his order to return to base, standing toe to toe, not yielding an inch, calling him out for hiding away.

That memory was supplanted by a more pleasant one of the sexual tension between them a few days later when Miles prepared a meal for Gil. In some ways the young man had wheedled his way into a gap he didn’t even know he had in his heart. Darren was still there, but increasingly, whenever he did something, he’d wonder whether Gil would approve, or if he would call him on it.

Miles shook his head. Now he had to treat his injuries. No doubt Gil would tell him what to do and how to do it. That’s assuming he was well enough to do so. The thought that his injuries may be serious took all the joy out of a day that had started so well.

Cold water lapped around his ankles as Miles watched the blond soldier who had gone back to collect Gil steer the boat into the shore. A flurry of activity ensued while Gideon’s men transferred the stretcher to the hospital. A cursory glance was all he needed. Gil was far beyond telling him anything; he was unconscious.

Miles stopped them and placed his fingers on the young man’s wrist. Gil’s heart was racing far too fast, and his skin felt cold and clammy. “Hurry up and get him inside.” His order came out harshly, probably curter than it should, but Miles was angry. No, he was furious. Considering they’d been brought here for their safety, Eidolon and its representatives had done a shit job to date. He followed the stretcher into the cool, dark interior of the hospital, ruffling Lucas’s hair as he went past.

Gideon caught his action and smiled in an effort to reassure the round-eyed kid standing just inside the doorway. It didn’t work. He still looked scared. Two of the big islander lads—obviously twins, resembling a pair of bookends—wordlessly offered to help, stretching out their hands. Under Miles’ instruction, Gideon helped Rag and the two islanders lift Gil while Clarke dragged the stretcher out from under him, then they lowered him gently onto the long table across the far side of the room.

“Lucas.” Miles beckoned him over. The young boy’s gaze kept shifting back and forth between the men in their army uniforms. “Can you boil a kettle for me, please.” That would kill two birds with one stone: give him something to do, and provide water to scrub up in. “Make sure the pan you use is clean, right? ” Miles added as the lad scampered off and received a thumbs up gesture as he disappeared through the door. “And use bottled water…” He snorted at the lad’s eagerness to get away.

Gideon beckoned to Clarke, speaking quietly so only he could hear, “Take Pierce back to Mystery Island. Advise her that another storm is on its way, and she’d better get under cover. If she raises any objection, tell her if she doesn’t move her arse now, she’ll be stuck here all night without supplies or a proper bed. If she objects, shoot the bitch.” He grinned and added, “On second thoughts, scratch that. Throttle her instead. I don’t want blood on the boat. When you get back to the resort, find Tate and tell him I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t wait up. You come back to get us at first light, okay?”

Clarke nodded, his face split by an equally broad grin. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow then. Anything more you need?”

Gideon shook his head. “If there is, I’ll radio in. Make sure one of you kips in the Comms room, just in case, okay? This is probably going to be a long night.”

“Okay, boss.”

Gideon watched him go, wondering how much grief he was going to get from Pierce. Knowing Clarkey, though, it would most likely be water off a duck’s back. He wouldn’t let it stick, whatever she said.

Rag had begun to break out the equipment he had brought with him while Miles assessed their patient. Gideon dragged another table over so they had somewhere to lay things out for use.

Miles spared the two men a glance, giving an approving nod as Rag unpacked a bergen stuffed with medical kit. A portable defibrillator joined a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope, IV kits and dressings. Gideon caught Miles’ expression and smiled grimly. “Rag is our emergency medical technician,” he explained. “This is standard kit for him and he knows how to use it all.”

“In which case, Rag, how about you get Gil’s clothes off him and check his BP for me. Can you do that?”

“Right-oh, doc, no problem.” Ragnar grabbed scissors and began to cut through Gil’s t-shirt.

Miles unwrapped the field dressing and took his first look at the damage. Shit, if he wasn’t careful Gil might lose his arm. Miles’ tried to squelch his anger, but it still simmered just below the surface.
This whole place is a death trap not a safe haven.
He took a deep breath and shoved the emotion away as useless. Now was not the time. He grabbed his stethoscope and began to check Gil’s vitals. What he learned didn’t reassure him one little bit.

The noise of the outboard springing into life was one of the sweetest sounds Gideon had heard all day. As it faded into the distance, he relaxed a little. One way or the other, Pierce had obviously gone with Clarke. Gideon watched as the doctor managed to bring his wayward emotions back under control. He could tell the man was angry, but he admired the way Miles kept a lid on it. The doctor was obviously worried; the paramedic wasn’t responding well, and they didn’t have half the facilities that a modern A&E unit would have to deal with it all. Unless Gideon was very much mistaken, the young man on the table meant more to the doctor than Sutherland was admitting.

Miles saw Gideon watching and frowned. “This is going to be difficult at best,” his voice was gruff. “I have no general anaesthetic. I’m going to have to use local, so I need people to hold his extremities. We have to make sure he doesn’t move inadvertently during the procedure. Lucas, can you hold his hand still please?”

“I can hold his shoulders and one of the islanders can hang onto his legs,” Gideon said. “Rag is the one who knows one end of a thermometer from the other; it’s his help you’ll need in an emergency, not mine.”

“Doesn’t matter who it is. I just need you to hold him still. This is not going to be made easier if he wakes up or even moves involuntarily while out cold.” Miles looked at the wound again. The spear was well and truly lodged. Extracting that bastard was going to be complex. He had no idea what damage had already been done for one thing. He’d repaired spear and arrow wounds in Africa, but they had never been barbed like this. Gil’s condition seemed worse than expected given the injury. There was something not quite right about the way he was breathing.

Miles walked into the kitchen and made use of some of the water Lucas had boiled, scrubbing up carefully before donning gloves. One thing for certain, the spear wasn’t going to extract itself.