Page 50 of Run Wild Omega

“Station. We can’t leave.”

“Have you tried?”

I try not to let her question bother me. She’s the one person outside her family who cares for Tess almost as much as I do.

“We have to stay put. I’ve just had a call with Gray, and he’s told me what to do. I also have a firefighter with me. Tess is in the best possible hands.” I don’t know if I’m convincing her or myself.

“I’m so scared! She’s my sister!”

“I know you are, but I promise she’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it. I’m coordinating with the helicopter so we can get her out.”

She goes silent. I hear her breathing, ragged and fast. “If you let anything happen to her, Wyatt, I will never forgive you.”

“I know.” I look toward the bedroom door where Tess lies. “I’ll die before I let that happen.”

I hang up. The silence in the room stretches, tight and painful.

Kyle shifts his weight. Pip meows, a small, complaining sound. “She’s going to be okay, Cap. Tess is… she’s tough. Everyone knows that.”

I look at the three men in this room. Dylan, who carried her down the mountain. Miles, who plotted the path through the storm. Kyle, watching the radio so I don’t have to. They all care. They all stepped up.

She isn’t alone. She never was.

The night drags on, a blur of checking vitals and watching the snow pile up against the windows. We take turns sitting by her bed. When I’m in there, I just watch her chest rise and fall. It’s the only thing that keeps me from falling apart.

Around midnight, the red phone on the wall rings.

I move before the second ring, snatching the receiver.

“Callahan.”

“Captain, this is Flight Operations at Buckley AFB. Weather window is opening over your sector. Wind shear is dropping below threshold. Medevac bird is inbound. ETA ten mikes.”

My lungs finally expand, air rushing in.

“Copy. We have the landing zone prepped. LZ is lit. Patient is stable but critical. We’ll be ready.”

“Roger that. See you on the ground.”

I slam the receiver down. “Dylan! Miles! Gear up. The bird is coming!”

We move. We don’t talk. We don’t need to.

Miles grabs the backboard and the cervical collar. Dylan throws on his turnout coat again. I scoop Tess up from the bed, blankets and all. She whimpers, head lolling against my chest.

“Shh, I got you. We’re going to the hospital now.”

Pip yowls as we open the door, the wind trying to rip it from its hinges.

“You stay,” I tell Kyle, pointing a finger. “Lock the door behind us. Keep the radio manned. If her parents call, tell them she’s in the air.”

“Yes, Cap.”

We step out into the blizzard.

The cold is brutal, knifing through my clothes, but I barely feel it. I only feel her weight in my arms. We trudge through the snow to the makeshift landing pad we cleared earlier in the evening behind the station. Dylan has the flares in hand, lighting them one by one. The red fire hisses in the snow, cutting through the dark.

The thumping of the rotors starts low, then builds, vibrating in my teeth. A spotlight cuts through the swirling white, blinding me.