Roz Fox - Her Mistletoe Miracle

But he hadn’t died. Six Black Hawks had shown up. Five fended off the enemy as one landed and rescued him.

Gritting his teeth, Mick wrestled the whirlybird onto a snowy perch. He hadn’t fully shut down before opening his door and tumbling out in a crouch. His first aid kit in hand, he ran bent over to the person slumped against the boulder.

Kari Dombroski , he discovered. She was the one who’d brought Mick the money the hikers had collected to pay for the climbing supplies Jess had ordered. Mick still had the money wadded in his jeans pocket, where he’d stuffed it yesterday.

“Kari, it’s Mick Callen.” He touched her shoulder lightly and stared into eyes filled with pain. “I’m here to fly you to a doctor. You and others who’ve been hurt.” He flipped open the metal lid of his first aid kit, still unable to make out the identity of those working feverishly to rope another climber out of the yawning crevasse.

“Can you walk?” he asked Kari.

Rousing, she shook her head. “Three of us lost our footing on snowy pine needles. We bounced off sharp rocks before we finally landed in the crevasse.”

“Has anyone checked your injuries?”

“Norm Whitman said my right arm’s broken in a couple of places. He didn’t know if he should tape it to my side or not. It’s swelling. My right leg is either broken, or I tore a ligament. I can’t bear weight on it.” Tears began sliding down her face.

Mick made a sling for her arm. She yelped when he placed her arm in it. “I have two litters in the chopper. But if I put you on one and your fellow climbers have worse injuries, I may need to leave someone behind. No matter where I put you, on a stretcher or in the copilot seat, it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“That’s okay. I’ll sit wherever you say, Mick. Please, you need to check on Hana and Jess. I’m afraid…” She broke off and her damp eyes spoke her fears more succinctly than words.

“Shh, I’ll carry you to the chopper so you’ll be out of the wind.” Mick braced himself to lift her. She wasn’t big, but his phony hip socket objected all the same.

As he stumbled toward the Huey, Kari blubbered through tears, “Jess’s feet came out from under him first. He disappeared over what I thought was a ridge. Hana and I were dragged along ’cause we were roped to him. When I stopped falling, I rolled, and called to them, but I didn’t get an answer.” She sobbed against Mick’s shoulder. “I thought we’d all die.”

He set her down gently inside the Huey and focused on splinting her leg. He tore off the tape and got up, noticing her face had been scraped. Mick carefully rubbed on an antibiotic cream.

“We shouldn’t have gone higher toward the peak,” she said, trying but failing with her one good hand to hang on to the blanket Mick draped around her. He adjusted it for her and closed the lid on his kit. Keeping an eye on the storm outside, he poured Kari a cup of black coffee and wrapped her uninjured hand around the plastic cup.

“We should’ve turned back as soon as it started snowing hard. Jess egged us on.” Tears rimmed her lower eyelids and tracked over the welts on her cheek.

“Time to sort out blame later,” Mick said gruffly. “Hang in there, Kari. I’ll go see what’s happening at the crevasse.” A knot fisted in his chest as he slid out of the chopper. He’d known what Kari was afraid to say—that Hana and Jess didn’t make noise because maybe they’d been killed in the fall.

He slogged uphill through worsening weather to where the others were just rolling a body out of the hole. Mick tried to muster anger at Jess Hargitay for being so irresponsible, but only panic filled his throat. Especially when he saw Chuck Hutton and Norm Whitman bent over a form too slender to be Hargitay.

A third man, the shortest of the three, faced the blowing snow. He wore a ball cap pulled so low Mick couldn’t tell who he was. Not that it made a difference. He just needed to marshal his jumpy nerves and make himself look at Hana.

Chuck got to his feet. “She’s alive,” he told Mick, relief clear in his voice. “She screamed when we tightened the rope to hoist her out, over the rim. Then I suppose she blacked out again. She’s gotta be hurt bad. My guess is internal. I don’t feel broken bones. But I’m afraid to touch her much.”

“And Jess?” Mick asked through clenched teeth as he knelt.

Chuck averted his eyes. “There’s been no response from him. Roger’s about to climb down to see. We were able to get Kari to disconnect her and Hana’s ropes from Jess. The lot of them lost their footing and sailed past us so fast there wasn’t time to grab their ropes, or even tell the women to hit their release clips.”

“Why were both women connected to Jess— Forget it—it doesn’t matter. I have a stretcher we’ll use for Hana. I’ll need your help carrying her to the chopper.”

“You’ll take us all, right?” Chuck shouted to be heard over the howling wind. His teeth chattered and his face was already chapped from the cold.

“Wish I could, Chuck, but no. A hiking party from the ranger station is on its way up the mountain. I’ll leave blankets, food and coffee. You can pitch a tent and wait, or you can hike down and meet the rescue team.”

“Without Jess, we’d never find the route. This snow has made getting our bearings impossible. Jess was the one with the mountain climbing experience.”

Mick didn’t want to point out they were all dumb-asses for setting out with a storm forecast. He only said, “Kari’s in a lot of pain. And I’m half afraid to move Hana.” He glanced at the Huey, then at the inert woman. “I’ll anchor litters to each side of the chopper wall for these two.”

“What about Jess?”

“I can take three wounded if one’s up to sitting in the copilot’s seat. Everything—and everyone—in the body of the craft has to be lashed down. It’s a matter of weight distribution, taking off in this wind. If anyone slid or rolled, it could throw me into a spin.”

In fact, the wind had begun to cut through Mick’s jeans. The snow had intensified, and the flakes were getting wetter. That was bad. His tracks to and from the Huey were already covered. He wore boots, but now noticed snow had soaked the bottom edges of his jeans.

Mick left Chuck and trekked back for a litter. He gathered as many blankets as he could carry and slung packs filled with sandwiches and coffee over both shoulders. Before leaving base camp, he’d taken time to line the interior walls where he’d strap the litters as best he could with blankets and pillows to make a sick bay for the most badly injured.

Kari was still crying, although more quietly.

“This stretcher is for Hana.” Mick wanted to give her added hope. “They have her out of the crevasse. She’s unconscious, but she’s alive.”

“Please just hurry. I hurt worse with every passing second.”

He promised to do his best then returned to the crevasse. Hana’s face looked as pale as the snow. Instead of insulating her from the cold, Chuck had rolled her out onto the ground. She might already have suffered frostbite. Mick curbed his frustration, recognizing that they were all working under a strain. The uninjured climbers had done the best they could in crappy circumstances.

He shoved blankets and a thermos bag at Norm Whitman. “Bundle up and drink something warm,” he ordered the man, whose fingers were turning blue.

Mick unrolled the canvas stretcher and shook out two thermal blankets. He eased Hana onto one, then moved her on her side so he could brush snow off her back.

She cried out sharply and her eyelids shot open. “Jess,” she gasped in a breathy sob. “Stop. Stop! Oh, God, help. My back’s in spasms.”