The man nearest her shook his head. “Sorry, no,” he grunted. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, nothing serious.”
An exclamation of pain snapped her to attention. She hurried along the aisle to where the sick Mrs. Childer lay half-cradled in her husband’s arms, moaning with eyes closed, and partially doubled over. Janet knelt down swiftly and wiped the glistening sweat from the woman’s brow. Childer stared at her, his face creased with anxiety.
“What can we do, miss?” he asked her. “What d’you think it is?”
“Keep her warm,” said Janet. “I’m going to see if there’s a doctor on board.”
“A doctor? I just hope there is. What do we do if there isn’t?”
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back straight away.” Janet got to her feet, looked down briefly at the suffering woman, and moved on to the next seats, repeating her question in a low voice. “Is someone ill?” she was asked. “Just feeling unwell. It sometimes happens, flying. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
A hand clutched at her arm. It was one of the whisky quartet, his face yellow and shining.
“Sorry, miss, to trouble you again. I’m feeling like hell. D’you think I could have a glass of water?”
“Yes, of course. I’m on my way now to get it.”
“I never felt like this before.” The man lay back and blew out his cheeks. One of his companions stirred opened his eyes and sat up. “What’s with you? he growled.”
“It’s my insides,” said the sick man. “Feels like they’re coming apart.” His hands clenched his stomach as another spasm shook him.
Janet shook Spencer gently by the shoulder. He opened one eye, then both. “I’m very sorry to wake you up, sir,” she said, “but is anyone here a doctor?”.
Spencer gathered himself. “A doctor? No. I guess not, miss.” She nodded and made to move on.
“Just a moment, though,” he stopped her. “I seem to remember — yes, of course he is. This gentleman beside me is a doctor.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” breathed the stewardess. “Would you wake him, please?”
“Sure.” Spencer looked up at her as he nudged the recumbent form next to him. “Someone’s ill, huh?”
“Feeling a little unwell,” said Janet.
“Come on, Doc, wake up,” Spencer said heartily. The doctor shook his head, grunted, then snapped awake. “Seems that you’ve got your night call after all.”
“Are you a doctor, sir?” asked Janet anxiously.
“Yes. Yes, I’m Dr. Baird. Why, what’s wrong?”
“We have two passengers who are quite sick. Would you take a look at them, please?”
“Sick? Yes, certainly.”
Spencer stood up to let the doctor out. “Where are they?” Baird asked, rubbing his eyes.
“I think you’d better see the woman first, Doctor,” said Janet, leading the way and at the same time calling out quietly, “Fasten your seat belts, please,” as she passed along.
Mrs. Childer was now as prostrate as the seat allowed. Shivers of pain racked her body. She breathed heavily, with long, shuddering gasps. Her hair was wet with sweat.
Baird stood studying her for a moment. Then he knelt and took her wrist.
“This gentleman is a doctor,” said Janet.
“Am I glad to see you, Doctor,” Childer said fervently.
The woman opened her eyes. “Doctor…” She made an effort to speak, her lips trembling.
“Just relax,” said Baird, his eyes on his watch. He released her wrist, felt in his jacket and took out a pocket flashlight. “Open your eyes wide,” he ordered gently and examined each eye in turn in the bright pencil of light. “Now. Any pain?” The woman nodded. “Where? Here? Or here?” As he palpated her abdomen, she stiffened suddenly, choking back a cry of pain. He replaced the blanket, felt her forehead, then stood up. “Is this lady your wife?” he asked Childer.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Has she complained of anything in addition to the pain?”
“She’s been very sick, throwing up everything.”
“When did it start?”
“Not long, I guess.” Childer looked helplessly at Janet. “It’s all come on suddenly.”
Baird nodded reflectively. He moved away, taking Janet by the arm and speaking very quietly so as not to be overheard by the nearby passengers who were staring up at them.
“Have you given her anything?” he inquired.
“Only aspirin and water,” replied Janet. “That reminds me. I promised a glass of water to the man who’s sick—”
“Wait,” said Baird crisply. His sleepiness had vanished now. He was alert and authoritative. “Where did you learn your nursing?”
Janet colored at his tone. “Why, at the airline training school, but—”
“Never mind. But it’s not much use giving aspirin to anyone who is actually vomiting — you’ll make ’em worse. Strictly water only.”
“I — I’m sorry, Doctor,” Janet stammered.
“I think you’d better go to the captain,” said Baird. “Please tell him we should land at once. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital. Ask to have an ambulance waiting.”
“Do you know what’s wrong?”
“I can’t make a proper diagnosis here. But it’s serious enough to land at the nearest city with hospital facilities. You can tell the captain that.”
“Very well, Doctor. While I’m gone, will you take a look at the other sick passenger? He’s complaining of the same sickness and pains.”
Baird looked at her sharply. “The same pains, you say? Where is he?”
Janet led him forward to where the sick man sat, bent over, retching, supported by his friend in the next seat. Baird crouched down to look at his face.
“I’m a doctor. Will you put your head back, please?” As he made a quick examination, he asked, “What have you had to eat in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Just the usual things,” muttered the man, all the strength appearing to have been drained from him. “Breakfast,” he said weakly, “bacon and eggs… salad for lunch… a sandwich at the airport… then dinner here.” A trickle of saliva ran disregarded down his chin. “It’s this pain, Doctor. And my eyes.”
“What about your eyes?” asked Baird quickly.
“Can’t seem to focus. I keep seeing double.”
His companion seemed to find it amusing. “That rye has got a real kick, yes sir,” he exclaimed.
“Be quiet,” said Baird. He rose, to find Janet and the captain standing beside him. “Keep him warm — get more blankets round him,” he told Janet. The captain motioned him to follow down to the galley. Immediately they were alone, Baird demanded, “How quickly can we land, Captain?”
“That’s the trouble,” said Dun briefly. “We can’t.”
Baird stared at him. “Why?”
“It’s the weather. I’ve just checked by radio. There’s low cloud and fog right over the prairies this side of the mountains. Calgary’s shut in completely. We’ll have to go through to the coast.”
Baird thought for a moment. “What about turning back?” he asked.
Dun shook his head, his face taut in the soft glow of the lights. “That’s out, too. Winnipeg closed down with fog shortly after we left. Anyway, it’ll be quicker now to go on.”
Baird grimaced, tapping his finger nail with the tiny flashlight. “How soon do you expect to land?”
“About five a.m., Pacific Time.” Dun saw the doctor glance involuntarily at his wrist watch, and added, “We’re due to land in three and a half hours from now. These charter aircraft aren’t the fastest in the world.”
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