Page 28 of Cockpit
I’m too damn close.
“She needs Melville,” I hear one of them shout to the other, referring to the only Level-I trauma unit in our area.
“Heads-up, Malone.” I look over at Charles, my copilot, and then track to where he’s pointing to the transponder and then back up to something I can barely make out through the storm. It looks like another small aircraft is directly in our flight path and near Sunnyville General.
“C’mon, Reese. Stay with us,” my flight nurse urges her.
“She needs MT,” I murmur to myself as I eye the small aircraft again and know that’s going to delay us when we have no time to waste.
“Dispatch, this is Spiderman in Mercy 445.”
“Mercy 445 this is dispatch, go ahead.”
“Change of plans. We’re headed to Melville.”
“Mercy 445, Sunnyville General is waiting for you.”
“No go. She needs a trauma unit.”
“Understood, but General is closer.”
“By ten minutes. Ten minutes where they’ll decide she should have gone to Melville because they don’t have the equipment to handle her injuries.”
“Mercy 445, dispatch is in disagreement.”
The radio crackles. The squelch squawks.
“Malone, this is Cochran. Your route is for Sunnyville General. Do not deviate from the plan. I need that bird and my crew on the ground ASAP. That is a direct order.”
I glance over to Charles, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead without saying a word. The muscle in his jaw pulses. I check the transponder and see the blip representing the small aircraft is no longer there, giving us a clear shot to Sunnyville.
I clear my throat. “Dispatch, there is a small aircraft in the flight pattern. It’s preventing us from having a swift delivery to General. We’re rerouting to Melville Trauma. Please inform them of our impending arrival.”
“Goddammit, Malone! Land that chopper.”
In my periphery, I see Charles do a double take my way, but I give him the same response he gave me. The less I acknowledge or involve him the better.
She needs the trauma unit.
That’s her only chance.
“Daddy.” Charles is tapping my shoulder.
“That’s an order, Malone!” It’s Cochran barking at me again.
“Daddy.” Another tap I choose to ignore. “Daddy.”
I startle awake.
The moon lightens the room—clear sky, not rain, and I’m in my bed, not in the cockpit.
“Luke? You okay, buddy?”
I scrub a hand over my face and try to clear the dream from my mind as he rubs his eyes and nods.
“I had a bad dream.” His voice is soft, almost embarrassed that he’s in here when he’s a whole eight years old.
I pull back the covers and pat beside me. “C’mon in. I was having one, too. Thank you for waking me up from it.” Too bad I can’t wake up from the reality of its aftereffects.
