in the process but it gave her a clear passage. ‘I’m Gemma.’
‘I’m Ian.’
‘That’s great.’ She now had clear access. She let her hand drift over his face until she found what she was looking for. There was a steady pumping of blood from his forehead. ‘Let’s get this stopped.’
At least she’d known to expect this. She had a wad of dressing roped against her waist. Now she hauled it up and pushed it as hard as she could against his head. She could feel the blood pulsing under her hand. It was a filthy gash, she thought grimly. Deep and jagged and ripped into more blood vessels than she cared to imagine.
It was just as well she was here. He wouldn’t last for an hour without her.
But would he last for an hour with her?
It was almost impossible to adjust a pressure bandage in these conditions. The flashlight was fading and she was working almost blind. She bound tape around the farmer’s head and tightened it until she could tighten no further-and then she had to feel with her fingers whether the flow was easing.
And blessedly it was. ‘Yes!’
It was a minor triumph. The big farmer was slipping toward unconsciousness. ‘I feel so… Geez, Doc, I think I have to sleep…’
‘Don’t you dare sleep on me,’ she ordered. ‘There’s forty cows out there depending on you. They’re hanging their heads over the gate right now waiting for your ugly face to appear.’
‘They’ll want milking.’
‘I reckon someone else might milk tonight.’ Heck, she was losing him. The pulse under her hand was fast and weak. ‘Nate…’
Nate was waiting, crouching back a little from the entrance to her cavern so as not to block the little light she had. ‘Gemma.’ There was no hiding the anxiety in his voice.
‘Ian’s legs are stuck fast. There seems to be some sort of beam over them-I can’t see to tell you more. I need saline and plasma. And morphine.’
‘You can administer them while he’s in there?’
She didn’t have a choice. There was a deep pool of blood under her hand and the farmer’s head was still oozing.
‘Of course I can,’ she managed, her tone far more confident than she felt. ‘What’s a little confinement and darkness to a beaut anaesthetist like me? Can you send in what I need?’
‘Can do.’ They’d rigged the rope around her waist in a loop, so that as she tugged her equipment along the cavity toward her, the other side of the loop returned to the outside world. It was a makeshift supply line but it would have to do.
Damn it, it must.
‘And I need a decent flashlight.’ This one was all but dead and she had to be able to see what she was doing. Surely firefighters carried torches.
These firefighters didn’t. ‘Ron…do we have a decent torch?’ she heard Nate ask the fire chief, and by the sound of his expletive she knew the response had been a helpless shake of the head.
‘There’s one up at the house,’ the farmer muttered. ‘In the back porch.’
‘Did you hear that?’ Gemma asked, and heard Nate swear again as he relayed the information to those behind him.
‘Yes, I want you to find it.’
He’d heard-but he was dealing with morons.
‘They’re going now,’ he told her.
Gemma thought, Good-if two of them went then maybe combined they might just have enough brain power to find the torch.
Meanwhile…
‘I need to rip your shirt,’ she told the farmer. She was working one-handed-the other was still applying pressure to his head.
‘Don’t mind me-it’s not my Sunday best.’
‘Great.’
It was thick flannel-much worse than his Sunday best, Gemma thought, as it was much stronger-but somehow she did it. She released the pressure on his head for a fraction of a second, put her teeth into the cloth and ripped. It was a small triumph but it was enough to give her a boost. It was wonderful what you could do when you had to!
And then there was a call from the outside world and Nate was shining a new flashlight in to light the darkness.
‘I’m sending this in, Gem.’
Gem… Her grandfather had called her Gem, she thought inconsequentially. Once upon a lifetime, he’d called her that and she’d loved it. It was a term of endearment that hadn’t been used since he’d died.
And why it had the capacity to pull her off stride here…
Not for long. She had herself together soon enough, hauling the syringes and packs of saline and plasma toward herself. Nate had rigged up the flashlight so it bobbed along with the supplies, lighting their path. It meant that when they caught on an obstacle he and Gemma could see what was happening. Holding one end of the loop each, they could wiggle it past.
Finally she had what she needed. All she had to do was set it up. Easier said than done.
‘What sort of feeling do you have in your legs?’ she asked, and the farmer gave a weary grunt.
‘Pins and needles.’
Well, that was something. Better by far than the nothing he’d reported earlier. If he’d received a blow to his spine he could have temporary nerve damage and the pins and needles might be a sign that they were recovering.
‘I like pins and needles,’ she told him warmly. ‘It means you’re getting your circulation back.’
‘All the better to bleed with.’
He could joke. Great.
Now all she had to do was get fluids aboard-rebuild his blood supply-and hope like crazy they could get him out without any further damage.
It was a long, long wait.
Getting the plasma and saline running was a nightmare. She needed room, she needed drip stands, she needed nurses to hold equipment… In fact, what she needed was a hospital. But, somehow, working by the light of the torch and manoeuvring through dust and wreckage and the stench of spilled fuel-somehow she managed it. It had been the most non-sterile procedure she’d ever done, she thought grimly, but it couldn’t be helped and infection was the least of their worries right now.
With the lines established, she let the farmer’s pain relief kick in. He dozed and she no longer fought to keep him awake. Sleep was the best thing. The less stress he was under the better.
At least his head wound had ceased bleeding. She had no way of telling what the damage was to his legs. That would have to wait. Meanwhile, his pulse seemed to be getting stronger. Surely that meant there wasn’t a leg wound spurting blood. Surely that meant he had a chance.
Please…
‘How’s it going, Dr Campbell?’ If Nate hadn’t been constantly there she would have gone mad, she thought, but he hardly stopped talking. He told her every single thing that was happening on the outside world. ‘We have twenty men and a truckload of shoring timbers,’ he said now. ‘Now we’re just waiting for the crane.’
‘Couldn’t twenty men lift a light plane?’
‘Are you suggesting they stand on your roof while they do it? You’d be squashed flat. Learn patience, Dr Campbell.’
But he was more impatient than she was. And more fearful. As confident as he sounded, she could sense the fear behind his words.
And once the whole structure moved, groaning and shifting as it resettled on its fragile base. She heard Ian whimper in pain as the timber over his legs dug deeper and Nate shouted a warning.
It didn’t keep moving. The iron above her nose settled from three inches above to one inch-it was pressing hard
