Page 66 of Airborne
“I’m cramping, throwing up, and I hurt in the upper right part of my back.”
“Spotting?”
“Thank goodness no. I need a nurse or a doctor.”
“Hold tight. I’ll get help.” The second time Catherine had raced for medical assistance.
Heather sat on the floor with her head between her knees. Her baby boy had to be okay. If she lost him, she had nothing left.
Fight, little one. Fight.
Jordan arranged a helicopter to transport Heather to Jamaica Hospital. Masked paramedics lifted her onto a stretcher. She was on her way to isolation with the passengers and crew from flight3879. Although the whirling, deafening sound shared no resemblance to a plane, the flight held raw reminders of how the nightmare had started. Jordan held her hand and whispered a prayer. Later she’d thank him for filling the shoes of a man who’d once loved her, except Chad would never pray.
Dr. Francisca met her on the hospital’s roof helipad. At the sight of the ob-gyn, Heather attempted to stop her fear, but the tears refused to stop. The putrid smell of sickness filled her nose, and the pain in her abdomen grew worse. The horror of losing her baby pounded against her head and heart.
Dr. Francisca held Heather’s other hand and walked beside the stretcher from the roof to the elevator. “We’re going to run tests and see what is going on.”
“Whatever it takes to save my baby. Please, no tests that threaten his life.”
“I won’t order any procedure without your permission. Try to stay calm.”
Heather turned to Jordan and peered into his kind face. “You are the best of friends. Thank you.”
“I’m staying here until Dr. Francisca makes a diagnosis and establishes a treatment.”
“Those on the island need you.”
“It’s a short helicopter ride.”
Two hours later, blood work, a urine test, an ultrasound, and MRI—in which Heather was assured the test had no radiation to harm the baby—provided the results Dr. Francisca needed to make a diagnosis. A ruptured appendix. Heather required immediate surgery.
“Whom do I contact?” Dr. Francisca said.
Heather gave her parents’ information. She turned to Jordan. “Would you let Catherine know what’s going on? She’s a great prayer warrior.”
He nodded and Dr. Francisca continued. “The baby’s father?”
Heather reached deep for control. “He isn’t in the picture.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
INSOMNIA HAUNTED CHADand taunted his murky life. His cell phone sounded, and although awake, he startled. He read the ID and snatched it before the second ring. His fingers fumbled over the green Answer key while a hundred scenarios fired at his mind.
“Jordan, what’s wrong?”
“I have bad news. Heather is scheduled for emergency surgery. Appendicitis.”
He bolted from the bed. “Where is she?”
“Helicopter transported her to Jamaica Hospital. I’m here with her. She’s under the care of a reputable ob-gyn who recommended a surgeon. They’re prepping her now.”
“How is she? How’s the baby?”
“Both are stable.”
“Does exposure to the virus risk their lives?”
“That’s an unknown.”
