Traci Douglass - One Night With The Army Doc

“Copy. Unit A18 en route.”

Dr. Jake Ryder replaced the receiver on the dashboard two-way radio, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline that always followed a call to arms pumping through his blood.

“Ready for action, Doc?” EMT Zac Taylor asked from the driver’s seat.

“Always.” Since taking over the Emergency Medicine Department at Anchorage Mercy Jake didn’t get to spend much time out in the field, so this was a special treat. “I’ll get things ready in the back.”

While Zac steered them toward the accident scene Jake unbuckled his seat belt and moved into the rear of the ambulance. He grabbed some extra rolls of gauze and shoved them in his bag, then double-checked the batteries in his flashlight. His chief of staff’s words from earlier that day were still echoing in his head.

“I know how you feel about the media, but this is Bobby’s best chance at recovery...”

His best friend Bobby had saved his life once. Now Jake would return the favor.

There were no other options.

Even if it meant the possibility of revisiting the dreaded invasion of his personal life that had followed his Distinguished Service Cross commendation. That debacle was one of the reasons why he kept to himself these days. Other than Bobby and Zac, and a few other staff at the hospital, he wasn’t really close to anyone. His ex and those reporters had really done a number on Jake back then, and now he had some reality TV doc ready to barge in and take over Bobby’s case.

Exactly what he didn’t need.

They swerved to a stop as Jake tried to picture this media darling doctor who would be waiting for him when he got back to the hospital. He’d never heard of this wunderkind guaranteed to be Bobby’s medical savior. All he knew was what his ER staff had mentioned—that this traveling physician was all about the new and experimental, mainly at the expense of old-fashioned caring and compassion.

Not good. Not good at all.

Zac parked the ambulance, then leaned around the partition separating the front cabin from the treatment area. “Looks like a real zoo at the crash scene, Doc. At least the cops have the perimeter blocked off.”

“Great. Let’s roll.”

Jake zipped up his pack, then pushed out of the rig with the heavy duffle slung over one shoulder. Sirens wailed and red and blue emergency lights blazed from all directions. One of the police officers gave them a rundown while they weaved their way toward the overturned vehicle.

“What happened?” Jake asked.

“From what the father told me, it was a moose,” the officer said. “Ran out into the road and the guy swerved. Those SUVs are top-heavy, so the whole thing rolled under the strain. I asked him how many times, but he couldn’t remember.”

“Wife and kid still inside the car?”

“Yep. Both awake and talking. We’ve got a couple of guys trying to keep them calm.”

“Awesome.”

Jake slipped around the end of a fire rescue truck parked diagonally near the wreck, seeing the snowcapped peaks of the Chugach Mountains rising like sentinels in the distance.

“Any loss of consciousness with the father or the other victims?”

“He says no, but it’s hard to tell.”

The cop kept pace with Jake’s longer strides.

“The kid keeps crying for his toy, poor guy. We’ve searched the area, but haven’t found any stuffed sheep.”

“Got it covered.”

Jake patted the side pocket of his duffle. The thing in his bag wasn’t a lamb, more like a cross between a giraffe and a dinosaur, but any port in a storm.

“Is that the dad?” Jake pointed toward a man huddled beneath a blanket despite the warm September night.

“Yep.” The cop veered off toward the demolished car again. “I’ll let you get to work.”

“Thanks.” Jake turned to Zac. “I’ll check out the father while you assess the wreck.”

“Sounds good.”

Jake walked to the agitated male standing between a police officer and a firefighter. “Evening, sir. I’m Dr. Jake Ryder.” He set his pack on the ground near his feet. “I hear you had a run-in with a moose tonight?”

The guy, who looked about forty, and pale as death, nodded. “We’re here on vacation and were out sightseeing. Next thing I knew this huge animal ran out in the road and everything happened so fast and—”

Recognizing the lingering signs of shock, Jake cocked his head toward the fireman and together they helped maneuver the father until his weight rested against a nearby squad car.

“Sir, help’s here, and we’re going to take care of you.”

“What about my wife and son? Are they going to be all right?”

“The crew’s working to get them out now.” He proceeded to examine the man for any obvious injuries. “What’s your name?”

“Mark. Mark Leonard.”

“Okay, Mr. Leonard.” Jake palpated the guy’s head and neck before moving to his arms. “Tell me if anything hurts or doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m fine. I just want to see my family.”

“Please let me finish this exam first.” He crouched to check out the man’s legs and discovered a nasty gash on Mr. Leonard’s left calf. “Looks like you banged up your leg, Mark.” He unzipped his bag and pulled out supplies. “I’m going to tape this up before we take you to the ER. Hold still. It might sting.”

“Ow!”

The guy jerked away and Jake tightened his grip. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was filled with gravel and debris from the accident. If not cleaned properly, it could cause a bad infection. Jake had seen more than enough of that on the battlefield.

The father scowled, a bit of his color returning. “What the hell was a moose doing around here in the autumn? Don’t they only come out in winter?”

“Rutting season.”

Jake shoved the soiled gauze pads into a portable hazmat container, then unwrapped several fresh ones to cover the laceration before twining a bandage around the man’s leg. Not perfect, but it would hold him until the Anchorage Mercy ER could suture the wound closed properly.

Talk of mate-seeking moose only served to remind Jake of the sad state of his own relationship status—or lack thereof. He wasn’t completely pathetic. He was a healthy, red-blooded male after all. But these days he only engaged with women who knew the score, women who never expected more than a few pleasant hours between the sheets.

The firefighter beside Jake cleared his throat and brought him back to the present. He secured the end of the bandage around Mr. Leonard’s leg with a metal clip, then straightened.

“Are we done?” Mr. Leonard tossed the blanket aside and tentatively put some weight on his injured limb. “Can I see my wife now? What about my son?”

“Stay here with the officers while I check in with the crew. Once they give me the okay, you can see them. All right, Mark?”

“Okay.” The man’s tense shoulders relaxed a tad. “Thanks for helping.”

“That’s my job.” Jake packed up his gear again before joining Zac near the vehicle. “Dad’s doing fine. What’s happening here?”

“Mom says her arm hurts, and the boy is really frightened, but neither seem to have any serious issues. Remarkable, considering the shape of this SUV.”

Jake stepped back and took his first real look at the damage. Shards of shattered glass littered the roadway and the sharp smell of gasoline and burning oil stung his nose. The whole right half of the car closest to him was dented and twisted, making the doors impossible to open.

A small voice called from the busted-out rear window. “Where’s Lamby? I want Lamby.”

The little boy’s plaintive tone pummeled Jake’s heart and took him right back to his last day in the Kandahar desert: to the acrid stench of diesel and melting rubber clogging his throat and choking his lungs, to Bobby pulling him from the blazing village amidst a hail of gunfire. Jake was supposed to have been the one doing the rescuing, but Bobby had done the saving that day.