‘Mike…’ Tess said warningly. If Les went into cardiac arrest here… Mike glanced up at her face and he could guess what she was thinking. She wanted her ER facilities she was used to back home in the States. She wanted a crash cart-electronic defibrillator-a cardiac specialist or six at the ready…
They had themselves plus one white-faced fireman-no more than a boy-who was trying to keep his hand steady as he sprayed the water across Les’s legs. And that was all they had.
And then there was another shout behind them, different from the barked orders and shouts from the firefighters. This was a male voice, strong and full of fear, and he sounded as if he’d been running.
‘Les! Les! Oh, God, Les… Has anyone seen my uncle?’
‘Hugh!’ Mike stood, searching the weird, flame-lit night for the source of the voice. ‘Hugh!’
A long, lanky youth came stumbling toward them, his face ashen.
‘Doc, it’s my uncle. Have you seen him? Les… Oh, God, is he in there?’
‘He’s here, Hugh,’ Mike said roughly, hauling the lad down so Les could see his nephew as well as Hugh see his uncle. ‘He’s burned his legs but he’s safe.’
‘Oh, hell, Les…’ And the boy burst into tears.
‘OK.’ Mike got wearily to his feet. He’d done all he could do here for the moment. ‘Can you look after this, Tess?’ He motioned to Les and the boy. ‘I’ll see what else needs doing.’
And he slipped away into the night to seek further casualties.
It was twenty minutes before they finally loaded Les into the ambulance. In that time they’d treated six firefighters for smoke inhalation and scorched eyes. Finally, though, the great burning heap became manageable. There were no more tragedies waiting to happen here so Mike and Tess could be spared to take Les back to the hospital.
One of the ambulance men stayed back with first-aid gear, but any more casualties would surely just be minor and could either make their own way back to Casualty or be driven in a normal vehicle. There was only one more major casualty expected-and no one was expecting miracles for Sam Fisher.
Hugh came to the hospital with his uncle.
‘I should ’a been there,’ he said over and over again in a voice that trembled. ‘My room was just next to the old codger’s. I should ’a…’
The boy stared down at Les’s legs. They knew now that Les had been burned trying to get up the stairs to reach his nephew.
‘I didn’t tell him I was going out,’ Hugh muttered. ‘I mean…our families are so bloody righteous. Doreen uses a sleepout at the back of her folks’ place. They thought I was staying at the hotel but after they went to bed I’d sneak back, like. I mean…’ His voice grew defensive. ‘We are getting married next week. But then we heard the shouting and the bangs and sirens and everything and Doreen looked out and said the pub’s on fire and I couldn’t believe it. I came so fast…’
He stared down at his trousers. His fly was half-undone, and with a self-conscious shrug he hauled up the zipper. ‘Bloody fool,’ he muttered, and it was unclear who he was referring to, but his hand came down onto his uncle’s shoulder. ‘To try and get me out…’
‘I woulda still tried to get Sam out,’ Les groaned, and grabbed his nephew’s hand and held it. ‘Would ’a been burned anyway. Weren’t your fault, Hugh. And I’ll still make your wedding. You see if I don’t.’
He wouldn’t. Tess looked down at those charred legs and winced. Les had months of skin grafts ahead of him.
There were three solid hours of work before they could think of bed. Firstly they stabilised Les as well as they could, but there was little they could do for his legs in Bellanor. Mike organised helicopter evacuation.
‘He needs a specialist burns unit,’ he told a stricken Hugh. ‘We don’t have the facilities here to cope with burns like this. He’s burned about thirty per cent of his total skin area. I’d guess about twenty-five per cent is full- thickness burns. I can’t guarantee his survival if he stays here.’
There was no more to be said, but it was a subdued Hugh who, an hour later, climbed into the helicopter with his uncle and the evacuation medical team.
‘Because I can’t get it outa my mind that he did it for me,’ he explained. ‘And he don’t have a wife or kids to look after him. He’s only got me. I’ll look after the old bugger.’
‘It’s probably true,’ Mike said wearily, as he turned back to the queue of firefighters needing treatment-mostly for minor eye injuries. Dear God, he was tired, but there was also overwhelming sadness running through his fatigue. ‘And Les knows it. I doubt if Les would have crashed through a barrier of flames just to save Sam.’
‘Hey, Mike, don’t think about it,’ Tess said steadily, and her hand came out to touch his arm. ‘What’s done’s done. Our job is to make the best of what’s ahead.’
It was true. He gave himself a fierce mental jolt-and her hand was still on his arm. Thank God for Tessa. She made his weariness and his sadness just a little bit easier. Bad but bearable.
There was little time for any more thought after that. There was too much work. They worked side by side, washing out eyes and treating one firefighter after another for minor burns. The fire had been an inferno and the men had taken crazy risks to get Les out. By three in the morning Mike was so exhausted he could barely stand, and if Tess hadn’t been there…
She was. That was all that mattered. Her presence seemed to be all that was holding him up.
‘You can go to bed now,’ he told her, as the last of their patients disappeared back out into the night. The hotel was now nothing but a vast pile of smouldering ash. Somewhere inside was what remained of Sam Fisher, but Sam had built his own funeral pyre. There was little hope of finding anything recognisable.
But Tess was watching him closely, and she shook her head.
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘You’re exhausted,’ she said softly. ‘But me… I slept most of the afternoon. I’m still bright-eyed and bushy- tailed and ready to go.’ Then her voice softened. ‘And I haven’t just lost someone I was fond of in a fire.’
Mike’s eyes flew to hers.
‘How-?’
‘How do I know? I can tell the signs,’ she said gently. ‘You’re quiet. You’re too quiet for someone who isn’t feeling pain.’
‘I…’
‘Want to tell me about Sam?’
He didn’t. Or…did he?
‘Sam was…just a patient,’ he said.
‘And?’
‘He’s old and fragile and he feels…he felt the cold.’ Mike’s gaze turned inwards, remembering. ‘Sure, he’s a drunk, but he’s a likeable old drunk. I had him down for a nursing-home bed but we never have any spare when he’s in the mood for coming and when I do have a spare bed then he’s feeling independent and obstinate and tells me I’m fussing. Maybe I should have fussed more…’
‘You can’t force people to do what they don’t want to.’
‘No.’ He stared bleakly into the middle distance and then shook his head. ‘Anyway, if Sam hasn’t drunk all his pension cheque, he stays in the pub. And Les is lousy with the bedding. The hotel has…had south-facing windows and it’s an old, old building.
‘It’s April now and the nights are turning frosty. I organised Sam more blankets, but it’s my guess he sold them. A decent blanket will fetch you fifty dollars. Fifty dollars equals ten bottles of cheap plonk. A cheap radiator costs you ten.’
‘Oh, Mike…’
‘I should have gone to see Les before this happened,’ he said harshly. ‘Hell, I should have seen it coming. Last time he was in to see me…only three days ago…Sam was complaining of chilblains. He’s so damned thin, he has no body fat to keep him warm. He
‘Mike…’
She took two steps forward and lifted his hand in hers. She cupped it between her fingers and her gaze met his and held.
‘Mike, don’t do this to yourself.’
