Page 29 of Fire and Rain
Only half-listening to the conversation, Sean watched land give way to ocean, sunlight glinting off the rolling swells. It had been almost five months since he’d been on a helo, five months since he’d flown over the water. God, he’d missed it.
“How does it feel to be airborne again?”
It took Sean a moment to realize James was talking to him. “It’s better than breaking in new AETs.”
James laughed. “Don’t let the captain advance you.”
“Rescue Six-Oh-Four-Two, Air Station Kodiak, copy.”
“Air Station Kodiak, Rescue Six-Oh-Four-Two, good copy.”
“Sector forwarded a report of a man on a salmon seiner with severe trauma, including possible fractures and a head injury. The vessel, the Kodiak Star, is in Outer Chiniak Bay, north of Cape Chiniak.”
And in an instant, their training flight became a rescue mission.
The information as it came in wasn’t good. A wire cable had snapped, and the boom had collapsed, dropping the heavy power block onto the victim, who was unconscious, unresponsive, and bleeding from one ear.
Sean helped Trey prepare the cabin for a critical patient and then set up the litter with a backboard and a C-collar. They’d been flying over Inner Chiniak Bay when they’d gotten the call, so it wasn’t long before the boat came into view.
“You’ve got cabin door speed,” James told him.
“Roger that. Opening cabin door.” Sean sized up the vessel. “There isn’t much room. There are a lot of cables and antennae coming off the superstructure. With the boom down, our best bet might be to approach from the bow and lower the swimmer to the port side of the boom.”
“Roger that.”
Sean conned James into position, keeping an eye on those antennae and the loose cable that was swinging in the helo’s rotor wash. Then he turned to Trey, the two of them working through the safety check and connecting the hook to Trey’s harness.
“Safety check complete. Swimmer is leaving the cabin.” Holding the hoist line, Sean gave Trey a nudge and began to lower him fifty feet to the ship’s deck.
Sean took care not to let Trey slam into the railing, holding tight to the hoist line to keep it steady. “Swimmer is on deck. Retrieving the cable.”
While Trey did an initial assessment on the patient, Sean retrieved the hook, connected it to the litter, and waited for Trey’s signal. As he watched Trey work, Sean’s pulse took off unexpectedly, images of Justin bent over the patient on that terrible night flooding his mind.
Aborting the hoist. Get out of there, Koseki.
Sean sucked in one breath and another until the panic of the flashback had receded.
Get your shit together, man.
Trey gave him a thumb’s up.
“Swimmer has requested the litter.”
“Roger that. Begin the hoist.”
Sean lowered the litter to the deck, watching while Trey worked with the crew to get the patient onto the backboard, into the C-collar, and then into the litter. He kept James apprised of their progress. “Patient is in the litter. Hoisting the patient. Patient is off the deck. Patient is halfway up. Patient is outside the cabin.”
He took hold of the litter and pulled the patient feet-first into the cabin, relieved not to feel pain in his shoulder. “Patient is in the cabin.”
“Roger that.”
Quickly, Sean unclipped the litter. “Sending the hook down for the swimmer.”
A few minutes later, Trey was back inside the cabin.
James’ voice came through Sean’s earphones. “Patient is onboard. We are RTB.”
The pressure was on Trey now as he cut the patient’s sleeve with scissors, inserted a large-bore IV, and opened the fluids wide. “Pupils are dilated and unresponsive. Let’s hook him up to O2 and get his vitals.”
