Page 63 of Wild for You
I can see the pilot screaming at her through the glass windshield, but it doesn’t slow her one bit. We’re running toward each other, and as soon as she reaches me, I fall apart in her warm, soothing arms.
“Oh my God, Gwenny. I thought you were dead! I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he was right!” We’re both sobbing now, and my whole body shakes with relief.
She wraps her arm around me, leading me toward the helicopter when a medic appears. Before I can say anything, they’re strapping me to a gurney and moving me inside the aircraft.
“Jack!” I scream. It’s all I can manage.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to lie down. Let me strap you in. You’re severely dehydrated at the very least, and I need to assess you–”
“Jack’s back there!” I scream, looking at Maggie. “You have to help him. He’s hurt.”
“I will. I’ll find him,” she assures me. “Just lay down, dammit, and do what the medic says.”
She and another medic take off in the direction I pointed, and I let myself relax as they put an oxygen mask over my face. The gurney feels like a plush cloud compared to all the surfaces I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping on, and it’s a strange thing, almost too comfortable.
They’ve just lifted me in the helicopter when I see the second gurney rolling toward us with Jack’s unconscious body lying so still that I’m afraid they may have been a few minutes too late. Only when I see the sliver of his moss green eyes do I realize he’s awake, just lying still, unlike me.
They load him into the helicopter, and I hear the medic going over his wounds.
“He’s got a compound fracture on his right tibia and a closed fracture on the right clavicle. It looks he’s got the beginning of sepsis forming from the leg wound.”
The other medic spares no time pulling out bags of fluids and needles. I feel a sharp pinch of an IV needle in my inner arm as the harsh smell of rubbing alcohol stings my nose. My vision slowly begins to dull.
“What’s happening? What are you doing?” I fight the straps tying down my arms as I remember something.
I hear Maggie’s soothing voice. “Just relax.”
But behind the warm, tingling sensation, I crank my neck, searching the inner cabin, when I realize … “Did you get his backpack?” My screams are muffled by the oxygen mask.
I panic, pulling the mask off my face as I fight through the fog. Making eye contact with Maggie, I plead, “It’ll all be for nothing. You have to get the backpack!”
I look over and see Jack succumbed to the medication, his eyes gently shut, and I’m thankful he’s getting some relief from the agony he must’ve been suffering for who knows how long.
The helicopter lifts from the ground, and I plead once more. “Maggie, please. You have to get the backpack. You have to make them stop.”
Determination flicks in her eyes, and her protective fiery spirit flares as she leaps from the back seat toward the pilot.
“What the hell are you doing, lady?”
“Stop! I need to get something.”
“We’ve got a critically injured patient back there—”
Again, she flings open the door and leaps the few feet to the ground.
“Motherfucker, who let the crazy lady on the search?” the pilot says to the medic.
“I’d listen to her if I were you. Last week I saw her hit a pilot with some kind of crystal when he refused to make another sweep. She’s a feisty one.”
I exhale a sigh of relief when I see her climbing back into the helicopter with Jack’s backpack. She takes her seat next to me, flipping it over her front. “I’ve got the stupid backpack. Now get some rest. You look like shit.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling her warm hand grip mine. “How did you find us?”
“I have my ways. Now please close your eyes and rest.” She squeezes my hand. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get to the island.”
“What island?”
“Puerto Rico. It’s the closest island to here.”
