“We never ask permission.”
Chapter Four
Knowing that the addition of a patient and a kid would completely change the Black Hawk seating, Wulf hadn’t expected to be close to Theresa on this trip. Shortsighted, because of course she’d sit on the deck next to Nazdana’s stretcher, and he’d have to be ready to interpret. He held out a spare communication headset. Its cord dangled inches short of brushing Nazdana, who lay between them.
As soon as Theresa replaced her helmet with the noise-canceling headphones, she twisted the plug in the air. Where’s it go, her eyes asked. The brown depths revealed her thoughts to him as clearly as if she’d spoken. He could tell when she focused exclusively on her patient because her eyes turned sharp and narrow, the same expression Cruz had during emergency ordnance disposal. Other times, like on the ride here, he’d catch her with her eyelids lowered and her lips parted, and he knew she shared his thoughts about more personal activities. Being able to read her eyes was dangerous enough; if she read his, he was finished.
He pointed at a commo jack on the side of the bird above Nazdana’s legs. Between them, the girl was strapped to a stretcher, which in turn was latched into tie-downs recessed in the floor. Theresa had fitted Nazdana with an oxygen mask connected to an inboard tank. It decreased the girl’s wheezing, but she remained pale and sweaty.
“Nice.” Theresa’s voice came through the headphones clearly. “Think the gear’s interfering with the portable EKG monitor? It was reading the fetal heartbeat fine when I attached the belt in the women’s quarters, but now the readings are wacked.” She tapped the instrument in her hand. Wires from it went under the neck of Nazdana’s robes. “Maybe the belt I used slipped while the guys carried her.” She laid her free hand on the girl’s stomach, patting lightly, as if feeling for something.
Her fingers looked small and slender compared to his, or to the hands of the men he worked with. Even her touch looked lighter, gentler. He wished...he crushed that thought faster than a tick. With his teammates, he’d made a family, the closest he’d had in centuries. They welcomed him into their homes, trusted him and never asked questions he couldn’t answer. Pulling his weight as part of the team gave him a purpose every morning. Eventually, inevitably, he’d have to start over, but he wanted to hold on to this band of brothers for as long as possible. Although Theresa’s hand might look delicate, experience told him that a woman’s fingers had the strength to rip apart his security.
“The belt’s in place,” she said, “so what could—”
He’d never seen her eyebrows drawn so hard together over her nose.
“Holy crap.” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “I get it. Two fetal heartbeats. That’s why the readings keep changing.”
It took a moment, but then he understood. Twins. Nazdana’s face blended with his memories of Zenobia’s dark hair and pain-hollowed eyes when she’d fought to deliver her twins, the babies he’d vowed to raise as his own. Despite the years, fear gored his gut as sharp and deep as a bull’s horn. He didn’t know this pregnant girl, but he couldn’t watch anyone suffer like that. Hand shaking at the edge of his vision, he thumbed on his mike.
Theresa bent closer to her patient, as if trying to hear over the rotors and engines.
“Captain,” he spoke into his mouthpiece. “Request you pick up the pace ASAP. Uhh—”
Nazdana’s eyes rolled until only the whites showed. One side of her mouth twitched repeatedly.
“Seizure.” Theresa scrambled in her ruck and pulled out a sealed bag of intravenous tubing and syringes. “Get her sleeve off.” Her command was loud enough to carry to him.
The girl’s body went rigid as Theresa ripped open an alcohol pad.
He sliced the bunched fabric away from Nazdana’s arm, but she didn’t move.
“Repeat request?” The pilot’s voice spoke in his earphones.
“Her mouth—put something in—next stage’s biting—” Theresa had the needle against Nazdana’s inner elbow.
“Twins,” he told the cockpit. Nothing except metal and useless plastic bags in reach. No wood or leather. “Hit some stick!” He stuck his left first finger in Nazdana’s mouth.
“Will comply,” the pilot replied.
Immediately the engine roared and the Black Hawk’s nose pitched forward, the massive power surge echoing the adrenaline and panic rising from his stomach as he watched Nazdana’s left arm flail. Theresa dodged, and the girl’s hand only clipped her shoulder, but she didn’t have the IV started yet. With his free hand, Wulf reached over Nazdana’s thrashing torso and pinned her upper arm. She had the strength of a writhing cobra, but Theresa was able to seize her forearm and insert a needle parallel to the girl’s skin. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kahananui kneel beside him to restrain Nazdana’s legs. He focused on the flash of red blood flowing backward into the catheter. Almost there. In seconds Theresa had the needle removed and tubing attached, as smoothly as if the girl wasn’t having an inflight seizure.
Then Nazdana clenched her teeth so hard on his finger, he closed his eyes to conceal the pain while he braced her tongue flat to keep her airway open. He couldn’t let Theresa notice, but damn, the girl could bite like Odin’s wolves.
He counted past one hundred before her jaw loosened and she collapsed into a semblance of regular body tension. Through slitted eyes he saw Theresa sag as if she’d let out a long-held breath, but if he released his, he might groan. His finger fucking hurt.
“Can someone radio to Caddie for operating room prep?” Theresa spoke into her mike. “Tell them we have an emergency C-section with possible eclampsia complications and potential multiple births en route. We need a full receiving team at the landing zone.”
After Theresa’s request went out over the air, Kahananui elbowed Wulf’s right side and slipped a clean degreasing rag under the edge of the stretcher. Now Wulf had to figure out how to retrieve his finger.
“What miracle drug was that?” The Hawaiian leaned toward Theresa, plopping his massive shoulder in front of Wulf and jostling him closer to Nazdana’s head. “I like to know about the good stuff in case we have to treat Afghans in the field.”
“Magnesium sulfate and hydralazine.” Voice strong and calm over the headset, Theresa sounded like she did this every day, not like delivering babies midflight was the scariest shit in the world. “The combo is a safe anticonvulsant and muscle relaxant for pregnant women. I found them in supply because they’re also hypertension drugs.”
They discussed side effects and dosages as if Kahananui played a television doctor, which allowed Wulf to slip his finger out of Nazdana’s mouth and wipe the pink froth off her chin. A flap of skin hung from his finger like a bloody lip, exposing nubs of bone where the girl’s teeth had dug the deepest. Blood dripped into his palm and between his fingers. It looked worse than it felt. Barely. He stuck his rag-wrapped hand into his pocket and prayed Theresa wouldn’t notice.
“She’s breathing on her own, good sign, but we need a CT scan to figure out if she’s in a coma or just knocked out by the drugs.”
Coma. Zenobia had slipped into that dark world after three days of bleeding and never emerged. Never opened her eyes or spoke to him or held the tiny boys during their brief hours. Theresa wouldn’t let that happen to Nazdana. She wouldn’t.
Theresa adjusted her patient’s oxygen mask and then carefully opened the girl’s mouth.
Wulf stiffened at the sight of Nazdana’s bloody teeth.
She used a tongue depressor to separate Nazdana’s jaws and examine her tongue. “She didn’t bite herself, so...” She pointed the red-stained stick at him. “Show me your finger.”