Page 5 of Fire and Rain
James had surfaced fifteen feet to Sean’s left.
“Abbott?” Sean had shouted.
Flames had reflected off Spurrier’s flight helmet. “Gone.”
Jesus.
Abbott was dead, and Justin…
Driven by desperation, out of his mind with pain and grief, Sean had fought to swim through swells and flaming wreckage, searching the surface for any sign of Justin—a flash of orange, his helmet, anything.
But James had caught him in a rescue hold and dragged him away from the flames, slapping a small strobe light to his helmet to make him visible from the air in case they were separated. “Don’t fight me, man. It’s too late! It’s not safe.”
Sean had never felt so helpless.
Now, a boat crew and a third helo were searching the water for remains. The Coast Guard would do an investigation and come up with procedures to avoid this in the future. But nothing would bring back Justin or David or the people whose lives they’d died trying to save—to say nothing of the multi-million-dollar aircraft that now lay at the bottom of the Gulf of Alaska.
“Petty Officer McKenna!”
Sean’s head jerked up. Had he blacked out? “Sir?”
“I think he’s in shock.” But Wade wasn’t speaking to Sean.
Trey Nash, the rescue swimmer on this flight, turned to Wade and James. “Apart from the blanket, he says he’s fine and has refused treatment.”
Sean wanted to insist that he was okay, but he couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering.
James spoke clearly. “McKenna, you are to do whatever Trey and Wade tell you to do. That’s an order. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Wade leaned closer. “I’m going to give you some morphine and get you in the litter so we can transfer you as soon as we land.”
The jab of a needle.
After that, it was a blur of shivering, pain, and voices.
“… second-degree burns on the exposed part of his face …”
“He’s got a right humeral shaft fracture. I splinted it when he was unconscious.”
“Between the meth and the burning ship, we can’t rule out chemical exposure.”
“We should be on deck in zero-five mikes.”
Then he was on a gurney, rolling toward a waiting ambulance, the dark sky above him. Before he drifted into unconsciousness, one thought crystallized in his mind, the pain it caused worse than any injury.
How in God’s name was he going to tell Eden that the man she loved was dead?
ChapterOne
April 15
Sean McKenna grittedhis teeth as Ryan, his physical therapist, ended today’s appointment with deep-tissue torture on his right shoulder.
“I know it’s painful, but one day you’ll be grateful.”
“If … you … say so.”
