Airman Jenkins, gave a soft laugh, then scrunched her face up.
Prue placed her hand on the airman's abdomen and felt her uterus harden as she watched the monitor. Great. Strong contractions and a baby whose lungs aren't ready to work on their own. With the skill she'd been trained in, Prue went to work, hurrying about, getting a report from the ER doctor that the baby was only twenty-nine weeks along, Airman Jenkins had had two previous premature deliveries that resulted in fetal demise, and she was a smoker.
Lotta odds against the kid.
Prue shut her eyes long enough to say a quick prayer, then shot into action. All the while trying to comfort the mom and get her into the chopper so they could make a hasty takeoff, she kept her hand on the woman's abdomen and timed the cursed contractions.
While the airmen strapped the mom in, the pilot pulled Prue aside. “If we have to land, give me about five minutes."
"Are you nuts?"
"I can't even hear myself think in that thing let alone be able to tell if that baby's birthday is December twenty-fourth."
Suddenly she froze.
Tomorrow was Christmas.
The pilot lifted the chopper off the ground in seconds as Prue watched the fire truck below become smaller and smaller. In her conversation with him, she'd gotten reassurance that the recent dust storms had died down enough for their little jaunt. Then again, he'd said, nothing prevented them from starting up in this dustbin.
Prue made her best assessment of Airman Jenkins's condition and instructed her to let Prue know immediately if she felt like pushing. Please, God, no. With that she kept her hand on the woman's abdomen and grimaced as each contraction felt stronger and stronger.
"Oh!” Airman Jenkins shouted, but not because of contraction.
Prue felt like screaming too when the helicopter shifted in the winds, and a sudden gust caused them to violently shake and toss about. Then they started to head downward-or so it felt. The pilot managed to pull up, but that didn't stop the entire crew's fears. Prue convinced herself they all felt the same as she did so she wouldn't feel like the only wimp.
A gust knocked them sideways for a few seconds.
The pilot's voice came across the headphones built into the helmets they all wore. “Looks like the wind's acting up here. We're going to low-level position. Everything okay back there? Make sure you're all strapped in good."
Prue looked at the patient whose eyes had darkened in fear. Had to be from the shaky flight. She could see the airman's mouth moving, but couldn't hear any words in this noisy tin trap. She leaned near and felt her abdomen. Rock hard. The mom's face was now scrunched up as if she needed to… Oh, Lord.
She was pushing.
"No!” Prue leaned near the woman's ear. “Don't push. Don't push! Pant. Hee, hee, hee,” she said in her ear as if that would help-or as if Airman Jenkins could even hear her.
"Hey! Land this thing!” she shouted.
"Roger, ma'am,” was the last thing she heard.
A gust of wind encircled the helicopter and Prue ended up near the door, grabbing onto something metal. Not sure what it was, she held tightly until the helicopter righted itself.
Yet it never did.
The airman in the back with her was shouting something, but no sound came through her helmet. He started to undo his seatbelt, but before she could continue to watch him, something made her turn her head and wished she hadn't. The metal thing was the door latch-and now it was open. Obviously the airman had grabbed her foot, but she didn't look at him since her thoughts were occupied by seeing a cactus heading toward her. Toward her! Surely the pilot would pull up, causing the airman to keep his hold on her and yank her…
Without even a scream, since she felt sure she was mute now, the arms of the gigantic Saguaro poked into the sleeve of her uniform, into her shoulder, and harpooned her like a little hummingbird, plucking her from the safety of the airman's hold and the chopper's doorway.
And then the darkness of the desert engulfed her.
Numb to anything, she watched the helicopter hover above her for what seemed like hours, but had to be minutes as the gusts of winds picked up-and subsequently knocked the chopper about like a toy. The airman had thrown a rope out, but the winds whisked it away.
In seconds, the craft would be smashed into the heavy desert growth-and the baby would be fighting against more than an early delivery.
"Go!” she shouted to the pilot waving her good hand to the helicopter to go higher before the low-level flight collided with the high-towering cactus. “Get the hell out of here!” Pain radiated in her body as everything she touched was a prickly spike along with the ones hurting her shoulder now.
She remembered thinking that she had never seen such tall cacti around the base. She also thought that she'd never been out in the desert this far and, by her calculations, the Army post wasn't much farther-by air miles.
A fuzzy voice filled her ears. Despite static that nearly made it unclear to understand a word, she heard the pilot say, “The mom… is… pain and water… post… ASAP. Sending… for you."
Sending for you?
Sending… help. Yeah. She would be fine.
It was then that she realized her arm was stuck to the cactus, legs dangling, body sore, blood draining down to her fingers and pain shooting throughout her mind.
Maybe she wasn't going to be fine.
She was going to die on a giant Saguaro like an ornament on her mom's blue spruce Christmas tree.
Prue shut her eyes and thanked God for the life she'd led so far.
So far. That really wasn't very much.
How sad.
Chapter Four
Pain radiated down her arm.
Heat from something burned into her skin.
And her eyes refused to open.
That, she figured was some kind of self-defense mechanism as she had the sick feeling in her stomach that all wasn't right in her world.
With a groan, Prue opened her eyes-and then it hit her.
She'd been yanked out of the helicopter last night. Or at least she hoped it was last night and not days earlier. Then again, she might be dead by now if too much time had passed. And, she told herself in her mother's ‘strict’ voice, she had to get herself down onto the ground and… and… one thing at a time.
Gusts of dusty wind smacked at her face as if being stuck up here wasn't bad enough. Dust devils danced dangerously around, causing her to curse at the dirty winds.
They'd picked up since last night.
A scary thought, but she tried to convince herself that the pilot had told her they'd be back for her. Despite the sun and heat, the weather still sucked for flying.
Hey, maybe they'd drive up. Some military vehicles would come bounding over the ridges and sand dunes to snatch her up-or down as it were. Then again, she looked around-it all looked the same. Surely the helicopter had some kind of system to mark where she was.
Surely.
With a force she never knew she had, Prue reached into her pocket to fiddle around and see what she could find to grab onto the dratted cactus, because she had to get down from here, yet there was nothing to grab onto. Kleenex tissues, natch. Lipstick, natch, since she couldn't stand dry lips and her cell phone.