be ready.”
Emilie relieved Carol and told her to get some sleep. Then she had Tyler wrap electric heating pads around two IV bags of saline while Bob readied the resuscitation equipment near the center of the overcrowded room. They’d need all the space they could get.
She got the oxygen warmer up and running. The small machine heated oxygen from a tank and misted it with warm water into a mask so a hypothermic person breathed in warm, humid air.
Tyler stuck his hand under the warm spray. “This feels almost as good as a hot shower.”
Sharon had told her Tyler could fabricate parts out of little more than a tin pie plate, a button and two inches of rope, but Emilie wondered how reliable he really was.
“This is no Hollywood shower,” she told him. “It’s a baptism. Pray the warm air and fluids will be enough to save him.”
“Baptism.” Tyler chuckled. “That’s a good one.”
Did he think this was some kind of joke? “I’m glad you like it.”
Bob snorted.
She looked at him. The short, wide and grizzled fifty-year-old radiated competence.
He met her gaze then gave Tyler a hard glare. “You ever see a guy with hypothermia?”
“Ah, no.”
“They’re not messy like a car accident victim, with blood everywhere. They’re pale, sometimes a bluish-white. I saw a guy up on Mount Everest a few years back. He’d been climbing alone and had run out of oxygen. I don’t know how long he’d been lying there not two feet from the trail, but when I looked at him he was frozen stiff. I couldn’t move his arms or hands or legs. I thought he was dead, until his eyes tracked my hands. His eyes were the only parts of his body he could move.” Bob continued to prepare the equipment. “Scared the crap out of me.”
Tyler swallowed hard. “What did you do?”
“A couple other climbers tried to help me move him.” Bob’s hands stopped moving. “We worked for an hour and barely managed to shift him a couple of feet.”
The silence after that statement weighed heavy.
“You left him, didn’t you?” Emilie asked.
“Yeah.” For a moment Bob’s face reflected the agony of that decision. “We had to. If we’d kept trying we’d have all died. That high up, there’s not enough oxygen in the air to keep you alive for long, and certainly not enough to allow you do more than move yourself. Supplemental oxygen only staves off death. It’s why climbers who attempt the summit can only stay for a short period of time. You’re literally suffocating. Slowly, but suffocating just the same.” He fixed Tyler in place with a hard look. “Got it?”
“Yeah,” the younger man said quietly. “Got it.”
She caught Bob’s gaze and offered a sad smile. “It’s never easy, witnessing death. It marks us. Changes us. Forces us to—”
Tom’s voice on the radio, distorted by wind and static, startled them all. “Emilie, we think Stan headed away from the station.”
She rushed to pick up the receiver. “Do you think he got lost?”
“I don’t know, but we found one of his gloves in a restricted area.”
“A glove? Why would he take that off?”
“He wouldn’t unless there was something wrong,” Tom said. “Either he needed to do something that required a lot of manual dexterity or he was suffering from cerebral edema. Our effective altitude is twelve thousand five hundred feet. If he was working hard and not getting enough oxygen, his brain might have begun to swell. He wouldn’t be too rational.”
“If that’s true, you need to find him fast.”
“Amen to that.”
“We’ll be ready for him.” Emilie put the radio down, her knuckles white. She sucked in a deep breath then pushed it and her desire to be out there searching out of her chest.
Trust was tough.
Time passed slowly as she, Bob and Tyler readied the clinic, moving everything that could be moved out of the way and making sure supplies and equipment were positioned close at hand.
It seemed like only seconds passed
Emilie relieved Carol and told her to get some sleep. Then she had Tyler wrap electric heating pads around two IV bags of saline while Bob readied the resuscitation equipment near the center of the overcrowded room. They’d need all the space they could get.
She got the oxygen warmer up and running. The small machine heated oxygen from a tank and misted it with warm water into a mask so a hypothermic person breathed in warm, humid air.
Tyler stuck his hand under the warm spray. “This feels almost as good as a hot shower.”
Sharon had told her Tyler could fabricate parts out of little more than a tin pie plate, a button and two inches of rope, but Emilie wondered how reliable he really was.
“This is no Hollywood shower,” she told him. “It’s a baptism. Pray the warm air and fluids will be enough to save him.”
“Baptism.” Tyler chuckled. “That’s a good one.”
Did he think this was some kind of joke? “I’m glad you like it.”
Bob snorted.
She looked at him. The short, wide and grizzled fifty-year-old radiated competence.
He met her gaze then gave Tyler a hard glare. “You ever see a guy with hypothermia?”
“Ah, no.”
“They’re not messy like a car accident victim, with blood everywhere. They’re pale, sometimes a bluish-white. I saw a guy up on Mount Everest a few years back. He’d been climbing alone and had run out of oxygen. I don’t know how long he’d been lying there not two feet from the trail, but when I looked at him he was frozen stiff. I couldn’t move his arms or hands or legs. I thought he was dead, until his eyes tracked my hands. His eyes were the only parts of his body he could move.” Bob continued to prepare the equipment. “Scared the crap out of me.”
Tyler swallowed hard. “What did you do?”
“A couple other climbers tried to help me move him.” Bob’s hands stopped moving. “We worked for an hour and barely managed to shift him a couple of feet.”
The silence after that statement weighed heavy.
“You left him, didn’t you?” Emilie asked.
“Yeah.” For a moment Bob’s face reflected the agony of that decision. “We had to. If we’d kept trying we’d have all died. That high up, there’s not enough oxygen in the air to keep you alive for long, and certainly not enough to allow you do more than move yourself. Supplemental oxygen only staves off death. It’s why climbers who attempt the summit can only stay for a short period of time. You’re literally suffocating. Slowly, but suffocating just the same.” He fixed Tyler in place with a hard look. “Got it?”
“Yeah,” the younger man said quietly. “Got it.”
She caught Bob’s gaze and offered a sad smile. “It’s never easy, witnessing death. It marks us. Changes us. Forces us to—”
Tom’s voice on the radio, distorted by wind and static, startled them all. “Emilie, we think Stan headed away from the station.”
She rushed to pick up the receiver. “Do you think he got lost?”
“I don’t know, but we found one of his gloves in a restricted area.”
“A glove? Why would he take that off?”
“He wouldn’t unless there was something wrong,” Tom said. “Either he needed to do something that required a lot of manual dexterity or he was suffering from cerebral edema. Our effective altitude is twelve thousand five hundred feet. If he was working hard and not getting enough oxygen, his brain might have begun to swell. He wouldn’t be too rational.”
“If that’s true, you need to find him fast.”
“Amen to that.”
“We’ll be ready for him.” Emilie put the radio down, her knuckles white. She sucked in a deep breath then pushed it and her desire to be out there searching out of her chest.
Trust was tough.
Time passed slowly as she, Bob and Tyler readied the clinic, moving everything that could be moved out of the way and making sure supplies and equipment were positioned close at hand.
It seemed like only seconds passed
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