Take Me Higher by Pamela Clare

Chapter 2

Megs was afraid to move,worried that she’d make Mitch’s injuries worse. If he had a skull fracture, if his neck was broken…

Blood trickled from beneath his helmet, but she didn’t dare remove it. His eyes hadn’t opened once, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks, his lips parted.

God, she loved him. He’d been the only man in her life, the only man she’d ever trusted with her heart, the only man she’d taken to her bed.

They both knew that climbing came with risks. They’d both lost friends to this sport. They’d participated in literally hundreds of rescues, not all of which had resulted in lives saved. Still, Megs had never imagined their life together ending like this.

Don’t think that way.

She rested a hand against his sternum, felt his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest. “The climbing ranger just called. He said they’re mobilizing, but it will be a few hours before they’re set up.”

She didn’t know if Mitch could hear her, but she kept talking to him anyway, trying to wake him, hoping he’d answer or open his eyes. He needed immediate care at a level-one trauma center, but the ranger hadn’t exaggerated. They were still hours away from a rescue.

Megs was an expert at high-risk rescues and had run it all through her mind a dozen times. A high-angle rescue was a tricky job that required specialized equipment. First, they would have to anchor an AHD—an artificial high-directional tripod—at the top of Painted Wall. Then they would lower a couple of rescuers, who would transfer Mitch to a litter, lift him up to the canyon’s rim, and fly him to a hospital.

If no more rocks fell, if the equipment didn’t fail, if they made it in time, Mitch had a chance. He’d been wearing a helmet, after all. That had to make a difference.

Far below in the canyon, someone waved. It was one of the two young men they’d encountered earlier. Apparently, they’d heard or seen the rock fall and had decided against climbing today.

“We’re going for help!” he shouted.

Megs just managed to make out his words. She waved, watching as he and his buddy jogged back toward SOB Draw.

The sat phone beeped.

Megs had clipped it to her harness with a quickdraw. “Megs here.”

“Megs, it’s Hawke.”

Megs squeezed her eyes shut, a hard lump in her throat.

What the hell is wrong with you?

She saw Eric Hawke every damned day, for God’s sake. He was the fire chief for Scarlet Springs and one of the Team’s most dedicated members. Why should the sound of his voice make her emotional?

Get a grip!

She swallowed. “Hey, Hawke. It’s good to hear from you.”

“How is he?”

“He’s still unresponsive, but he’s breathing.”

“We’re doing our best to get to you.”

“I know you are. I don’t expect miracles.”

It was a six-hour drive from Scarlet Springs to the Black Canyon. Flight time was about an hour, but the Team didn’t own any rescue choppers. If they had, it would still have taken an hour to get the bird ready and airborne.

“I’ve got a miracle for you anyway. I’m on the way to the Forest County Airport with Conrad, Taylor, O’Brien, Belcourt, and Moretti. Joe moved heaven and earth to have a helicopter meet us there and fly us to the Black Canyon. We’ll meet the Black Canyon ranger team in about ninety minutes.”

The breath left Megs’ lungs in a rush. “Joe did that?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. Joe Moffat, called Caribou Joe by Scarlet Springs residents, was a billionaire whose family had struck it rich at the Caribou Mine in the mountains above town. He wasn’t in the mining business these days, but owned a brewpub—Knockers—and acted as the town’s primary philanthropist. He donated tens of thousands to the Team each year.

“We didn’t even have to ask. The moment Joe heard what had happened, he picked up his phone and started making calls.”

Megs swallowed again. “He’s good people.”

“Our ETA is roughly fifty minutes once we get airborne. I’ll keep in touch. You two mean everything to this town. We won’t let you down, Megs.”

“I know you won’t.”

Hawke ended the call.

“Did you hear that? Joe arranged for a helicopter, and some of the boys are on their way to help.”

All of them were skilled climbers with years of rescue experience. Hawke and Austin Taylor were both paramedics. Taylor was also a park ranger. Harrison Conrad was a well-known alpine climber who had summited all the big Himalayan peaks, including Everest. Malachi O’Brien was a climber and an ER doctor. Chaska Belcourt was an engineer and one of the most brilliant climbers Megs had ever known. Jesse Moretti was a former Army Ranger who’d recovered from the scars of war through climbing.

“Hang on, Mitch. The boys will be here in a little more than an hour, and then we’ll get you to a hospital.”

A golden eagle soared through the air below them, taking advantage of the afternoon thermals, sun glinting off its dark feathers. It was the sort of thing Mitch loved—the unique view of nature that one had to earn.

She described it to him. “I wish you could open your eyes and see it.”

But he didn’t budge.

“You have to wake up, Mitch. I’m not sure I know how to live without you.”

A knot in her chest,Megs watched as the rescuers lifted Mitch out of the canyon using a complex system of tripod, ropes, and pulleys. O’Brien and Moretti rode on both ends of the litter to keep it steady and prevent it from striking the rockface.

Hang on, Mitch!

“He’s in good hands.” Taylor had rappelled down with Hawke.

The two hung on their ropes on either side of her, both of them stone-faced. They knew, as she did, how grave the situation was. More than two hours had gone by since the accident, and Mitch was still unresponsive.

He couldn’t die. He couldn’t.

Another helicopter flew overhead.

Taylor glanced up. “That’s Life Flight.”

Thank God.

“When we get to the top, remember to give us your car keys,” Hawke said. “We’ve talked it through. O’Brien will fly back with you and Ahearn. The rest of us will work with the rangers to clean your gear from the route, pack up your camp, and load your vehicle. Then we’ll drive everything back to Scarlet and leave it at your place.”

Megs hadn’t thought about any of that. It hadn’t even crossed her mind. “Right. Thanks. You’re good guys.”

Hawke rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

It felt surreal to be in this position, to be rescued instead of the rescuer. She had no radio and no idea what was happening up top. She wasn’t in charge. She wasn’t involved at all. Instead, she was waiting for a litter. Although she was uninjured and able to climb, there was no way she could reach the canyon rim before the Life Flight helicopter lifted off, and she wanted to stay with Mitch.

“Rock!” Moretti shouted from far above.

“Rock!” Hawke and Taylor repeated the warning, pulling themselves close to the rockface and shielding Megs with their bodies.

Stone struck stone as another rock crashed its way to the canyon below.

“Shit!” Hawke looked up. “This really is a vertical choss heap.”

“The whole damned wall is just waiting to come down.” Taylor adjusted his position on the ledge, stood a little closer to Megs.

“You’ve both got wives and kids back home.” Megs had known both men since they were little boys. She knew their wives—Lexi and Vicki—and their young children, too. “Please don’t get yourselves killed trying to rescue me.”

“Hey, that’s our job.” Hawke glanced at Taylor, then reached for his handset. “Copy that.”

Taylor explained. “They’ve got Ahearn and are sending the litter back down.”

It seemed to take an eternity for the litter to reach them. While Hawke and Taylor held it steady, Megs climbed in, instinctively reaching to unclip herself from the protection she’d set and attach herself to the litter instead.

Hawke stopped her. “You need to sit this one out and let us do the work.”

“You’re right.” She was too shaken to think clearly. Any mistake she might make would endanger Taylor, Hawke, and the other rescuers.

But doing nothing came at a price, leaving her mind free to fill with fears. What if Mitch was left badly disabled? What if he never regained consciousness? What if he died on the way to the hospital?

No. No, she couldn’t let herself go there.

Mitch was strong. He’d been wearing a helmet. He would recover.

The ascent to the canyon rim was slow and steady, Hawke and Taylor keeping the litter from swinging into the cliff wall. Megs let out a relieved breath when they topped out, hands reaching to pull the litter to safety and secure it.

While hanging out on the wall had been quiet, the rim of the canyon was swarming with people. Belcourt had constructed the anchor and was now breaking things down with the help of several rangers. O’Brien, Conrad, Moretti, and Life Flight paramedics carried Mitch’s litter toward the waiting helicopter.

Hawke and Taylor unclipped Megs from the litter and helped her out just as the head ranger, probably the Incident Commander, approached.

“Do you need medical attention, Ms. Hill?” He couldn’t have been much older than thirty, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you for your quick action.”

“Your SAR team did most of the hard work. We’re all admirers of you and Mitch, ma’am, and we’re sorry that this happened here at the Black Canyon.”

“Thank you.” She fished her keys out of her backpack, handed them to Hawke. “Thanks, Eric. Thank everyone for me.”

She hurried after the litter.

A sheriff’s deputy stepped into her path. “Ma’am, I need to get a statement.”

“A rock broke loose from the wall above us, missed me, but struck Mitch Ahearn on his helmet. That’s the whole story.” She side-stepped the deputy, jogged toward the waiting helicopter.

“I need your contact information!” the deputy called after her.

“Ask one of the Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue Team members!” She ducked down, accepted Conrad’s help climbing into the chopper.

“Godspeed, Megs. We’re all thinking of you two.”

“Thanks, Conrad. I’m putting you in charge while I’m out. I know that’s a lot to ask when you and Kenzie have a three-month-old at home. Please don’t let the Team collapse while I’m away.” Megs took her seat, put on her earphones.

“It’s not a problem. I’ve got it. We’ll be fine.”

“Thank the boys for me. You’ve gone out of your way, and I know it.”

“Who traveled all the way to the Himalayas to save my ass?” Conrad called to her as he backed away, a grin on his face. “You did.”

The helicopter lifted up and flew out over the canyon, heading toward Denver.

Megs satin the surgery waiting room, fear eating a hole in her chest. Sasha Dillon, Nicole Turner, Lexi Taylor, and Ellie Moretti waited with her. Ellie, Jesse Moretti’s wife and an RN, did her best to explain to Megs what was happening, while Sasha, Nicole, and Lexi got her water and coffee and worried with her. O’Brien had asked to observe the surgery, and it gave Megs some comfort to know that he was with Mitch right now.

“Here you go.” Sasha, the Team’s youngest member, handed her another bottle of cold water. “I bet you got dehydrated waiting up there.”

“Thanks.” Megs twisted off the cap and drank.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Nicole, also a Team member and Sasha’s best friend, sat on Megs’ left. “I can get you something from the cafeteria.”

Megs had no appetite. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“Is it normal for this to take so long?” Lexi, Austin’s better half, handled the Team’s financials pro bono.

Ellie nodded. “The surgeon said it would probably take three hours.”

“Oh, right.”

As Megs understood it, they were cutting away part of Mitch’s skull so that his brain could swell freely and so they could stop the bleeding and remove the hematoma and any clots that had formed. The bone they removed would be preserved by sewing it into a pouch they made in his abdominal wall.

It was a serious operation and not without risks.

“Who came up with that idea in the first place?” Megs didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until the others looked at her. “Who first said, ‘Let’s take this bit of skull and sew it into this guy’s belly and see what happens’?”

Ellie smiled, took Megs’ hand. “I have no idea. It sounds completely crazy, doesn’t it? But it works.”

Megs wasn’t a touchy person—except where Mitch was concerned. Somehow, he’d broken through her armor to become the one person whose touch she needed. But right now, Ellie’s grip on her fingers felt more reassuring than Megs could say.

The minutes crept by like hours, Mitch’s status on the board unchanged.

Megs drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, trying to get the image of Mitch’s bloody scalp out of her mind. She’d never balked at the sight of serious injuries, but when they’d taken off his helmet in the helicopter and she’d seen how badly hurt he was, she’d gotten dizzy. His scalp had been split to the bone, blood saturating his hair, a slight depression in his skull.

The doors to the OR wing opened, and O’Brien walked out, still wearing scrubs, surgical cap on his head, mask in one hand.

Megs steeled herself, got to her feet, Ellie beside her. “How is he?”

“They’re finishing up now. I’ll leave the details to the surgeon, given that neurosurgery isn’t my specialty. Mitch made it through the surgery and is stable. When they did the scans, they found that one of his cervical vertebrae had cracked. There was no spinal impingement, which is excellent news. He also has a broken clavicle that they had to set through a second, quick surgery. They’ve got him in a collar.”

Megs exhaled, then hugged O’Brien. “Thank you, Malachi. Thanks for coming and for being in there with him.”

“Of course. He’s strong and healthy, Megs. Hope for the best.” He glanced at his watch. “Call if you need me, okay? I’ve got to get back to Scarlet for my shift.”

Nicole stood. “I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks.”

The two walked out together.

Thirty minutes later, the neurosurgeon came out and led them into a conference room for privacy. “I’m Dr. Schwartz. The surgery went well, and Mitch is stable. We managed to remove the hematoma and several small bone fragments and stop the bleeding. We’ll move him to ICU and do our best to keep him comfortable. Right now, he’s intubated and in a coma.”

The doctor’s words seemed to swirl through Megs’ mind, left her struggling to put the pieces together. Hematoma. Bleeding. Bone.

She had to ask. “Do you expect him to survive?”

“With this kind of severe injury, he’s got about a forty-percent chance of a favorable outcome. It’s not just the injury. There are also potential complications. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are crucial.”

A forty-percent chance?

Dear God.

Megs’ heart sank. “Do you expect him to wake up?”

“It’s hard to say right now, but I expect he will regain consciousness in stages. Until he starts coming around, we won’t know what kind of recovery he’s facing. He’ll probably need rehabilitation. Will he regain a hundred percent of the function he had before the accident? That’s a question I can’t answer. One thing I can tell you for certain. If he hadn’t been wearing a helmet, he’d have died instantly.”

Megs hated to bring this up, but she had a duty to Mitch.

“Mitch has a living will. It’s his wish that…” She could barely bring herself to say it. “It’s his wish that we withhold life-saving treatment if an accident or illness leaves him nonfunctional.”

The doctor nodded. “The good news is that we’re nowhere near making that determination—not yet, anyway. You might want to retrieve the document just to have it on hand, but there’s a very good chance that he’ll regain consciousness.”

The doctor explained the different stages of recovery from coma and what she could do to help the process. Then he handed her several brochures about traumatic brain injury. “Do you have any questions?”

Megs had only one. “When can I see him?”