A.N.: Once again, I am so grateful for the kind reviews and the gentle (and not-so-gentle) encouragement to continue on with my poor little story. Truly affirmation and constructive criticism are food for a writer's soul! Tgirl
From the end of Chapter 10 . . . .
* * * USS SEAHAWK
Port of Norfolk, VA
//Okay, something's seriously gone wrong on the SEAHAWK. It must be big, affecting the whole ship, or I'd hear the crew, or people would be coming here to investigate if it was a localized problem. Conclusion, I'm on my own and somehow I've got to get out of here.//
And it was then, when Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie tried to move, that she realized she couldn't. At all. * * *
At first, Mac's mind simply refused to accept the sensory information her body sent it.
//Move, dammit!// it insisted. //Try to find some leverage and get this hatch off!//
Her body did not, and could not, obey. Even the brain of a stubborn Marine had to accept the truth of the situation; at the moment she was paralyzed.
//Stay calm.// she told herself. //Figure out how much movement you do have. Start at your toes and work your way up.//
Systematically, the pinned Marine focused on each part of her body, willing it to move and then waiting for the sensory response to telegraph success or failure.
Toes. Failure.
Feet and ankles. Failure
Calves and knees. Failure.
Thighs. Failure.
Hips. Failure.
Abs. Failure.
Fingers. Fail-Wait! There was some movement! Stiff, but real movement.
The rest of her arms and torso gave the same response; movement, albeit limited. Mac felt as though she were being dragged down by heavy weights or layers of sodden, thick clothes. Still, some movement was better than none . . . She refused to panic. Giving in to fear or any other wasting emotion would serve no purpose. Survival was paramount, and that would only come if she could think with a clear head, unclouded by a fog of fear.
//All right, jarhead,// the determined woman told herself, //learn as much of your condition and your situation as you can.//
With great effort, Mac strained her neck to bring her head up off the floor and let her eyes travel the length of her body. No blood was visible . . . Slowly and clumsily, her left hand moved to sweep the area along her side and the small portion of the floor under her lower back. It encountered a wet spot. She forced herself to bring her hand up and in front of her face and was unable to restrain the disappointed groan that escaped her; blood, red and sticky, was smeared across her palm and fingers.
//Oh crap,// was the only coherent thought she could manage.
USS SEAHAWK
1545 EST
The search-and-rescue team Harm was assisting had not yet ventured into the areas below the burning tower. Captain Danzig was talking with various personnel on the flight deck, trying to get a better idea of how many crew members his men had to be searching for. As few as 10? As many as 50?
Awaiting orders to go in, Harm paced the flight deck, looking for a familiar face. For some unknown reason, the anxious lawyer didn't believe he would see the face of Sarah MacKenzie. In a way he couldn't explain, and frankly didn't even want to try to, he *knew* she was somewhere below deck. Every minute mattered and the Naval lawyer now-turned rescue worker didn't think he could wait one more second before heading into the smoke-filled stairwell leading to where he knew he had to go.
"Commander Rabb? Is that you, sir?"
He turned in the direction of the voice that called his name, and saw the exhausted figure of one Petty Officer Jennifer Coates.
"Jen, are you okay? Where's Colonel MacKenzie?" His eyes took in her appearance all at once, noting the grimy streaks left by smoke and sweat as well as the random blood stains dotting her uniform.
"I'm not hurt, sir," she answered flatly. She watched his eyes scan her and repeated herself. "Really, I'm fine, Commander. None of this is my blood. I've been helping the wounded, and some of them-" she stumbled for the first time, "some of them-are-."
Harm saw the calm desert her eyes, and watched a wild sadness take its place. //Way to go, Rabb,// he cursed himself, //You're supposed to be helping people, not traumatizing them further.//
"I'm glad to hear you're okay, Petty Officer," he said quietly but sincerely. "It's good that you can help get these others the medical attention they need." He paused, and then asked the question burning in his soul, "Do you know where Colonel Mackenzie is?"
His question made it impossible for the enlisted young woman to recover her calm. Instead, her brown eyes filled with tears as she tried to answer the man in front of her. G-d, why did *she* have to be the one to give Commander Rabb this news?!
"I don't know, sir," Jen told him in a broken voice, "We were together, then the Colonel remembered she had left a book in the JAG office and went to get it. She went below deck, and less than a minute later there was the explosion-"
Harm reached out and pulled the now-crying Jen Coates into a hug, holding on as much for his own sake as for hers. He had believed Mac was somewhere below deck, but having his thoughts confirmed . . . the certainty of it chilled him to the bone.
"It's all right, Jen. We'll find her and she'll be fine."
The matter-of-fact tone of his words stopped her quiet sobs abruptly.
"Sir, how do you know? I mean, I want to believe it, but the fire-" she couldn't finish the sentence. How could she say that the Colonel was dead?
Before the senior officer could answer, a shout interrupted their conversation.
"Commander Rabb!" Captain Danzig barked. "Let's go; we're moving out!"
"Where are you going, sir?"
"I'm helping one of the search and rescue teams. I know the SEAHAWK; I can help them search."
"Commander, let me help!" she asked suddenly.
The lawyer shook his head. "Jen," he began, "You should stay up on deck. You're already doing needed work here-"
"Commander, please! I know this carrier as well as you do, better even. Besides, they have enough people to help topside. I need to *do* something . . . I want to help find Colonel MacKenzie. Let me help you!"
The intensity of her plea surprised him, but he knew she couldn't come.
"Petty Officer Coates," he said deliberately, "You are doing work up here that needs to be done. You should keep doing it." He saw her expression change, going from rash hope to defeated sadness. He tried to make her understand, "Jen, you'd need special gear, and oxygen, there isn't time to-"
"Rabb! Did you hear me? It's time to go!"
"Coming, Captain," he hollered. Harm turned back to the woman struggling to compose herself.
"Stay safe up here, Jen," he said quietly, "and say a prayer for Mac."
"I will, sir," she returned, calmer now. "I've learned how to pray again." With that she turned from him and walked towards the clusters of men and women, the injured and those who were helping them.
More calm himself now, Harm turned and ran back to the rescue unit. "I'm ready when you are, Cap. Where do you want to look first?"
"We've got a little bit of luck with us today, Commander," was the oblique reply. Then the captain addressed his next words to the entire team.
"We're the first rescue team to actually go below the deck, to the area beneath the tower. From what I've been able to learn from personnel on ship, it doesn't seem likely that more than a dozen people were below at the time of the explosion. That's good because it means that we won't be trying to bring up a lot of people through the smoke and fire. But it does mean our search has to be thorough; we can't afford to overlook any area where a victim might be." Neil Danzig's attention went back to the newest member of his team.
"And that, Rabb, is where you come in. You know this ship, you have to show us how it's laid out and where we need to look."
"Aye, aye, sir," Harm answered by habit. Then he swallowed before he continued. "I just found out, Cap, that there's another victim down there as well."
TBC
From the end of Chapter 10 . . . .
* * * USS SEAHAWK
Port of Norfolk, VA
//Okay, something's seriously gone wrong on the SEAHAWK. It must be big, affecting the whole ship, or I'd hear the crew, or people would be coming here to investigate if it was a localized problem. Conclusion, I'm on my own and somehow I've got to get out of here.//
And it was then, when Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie tried to move, that she realized she couldn't. At all. * * *
At first, Mac's mind simply refused to accept the sensory information her body sent it.
//Move, dammit!// it insisted. //Try to find some leverage and get this hatch off!//
Her body did not, and could not, obey. Even the brain of a stubborn Marine had to accept the truth of the situation; at the moment she was paralyzed.
//Stay calm.// she told herself. //Figure out how much movement you do have. Start at your toes and work your way up.//
Systematically, the pinned Marine focused on each part of her body, willing it to move and then waiting for the sensory response to telegraph success or failure.
Toes. Failure.
Feet and ankles. Failure
Calves and knees. Failure.
Thighs. Failure.
Hips. Failure.
Abs. Failure.
Fingers. Fail-Wait! There was some movement! Stiff, but real movement.
The rest of her arms and torso gave the same response; movement, albeit limited. Mac felt as though she were being dragged down by heavy weights or layers of sodden, thick clothes. Still, some movement was better than none . . . She refused to panic. Giving in to fear or any other wasting emotion would serve no purpose. Survival was paramount, and that would only come if she could think with a clear head, unclouded by a fog of fear.
//All right, jarhead,// the determined woman told herself, //learn as much of your condition and your situation as you can.//
With great effort, Mac strained her neck to bring her head up off the floor and let her eyes travel the length of her body. No blood was visible . . . Slowly and clumsily, her left hand moved to sweep the area along her side and the small portion of the floor under her lower back. It encountered a wet spot. She forced herself to bring her hand up and in front of her face and was unable to restrain the disappointed groan that escaped her; blood, red and sticky, was smeared across her palm and fingers.
//Oh crap,// was the only coherent thought she could manage.
USS SEAHAWK
1545 EST
The search-and-rescue team Harm was assisting had not yet ventured into the areas below the burning tower. Captain Danzig was talking with various personnel on the flight deck, trying to get a better idea of how many crew members his men had to be searching for. As few as 10? As many as 50?
Awaiting orders to go in, Harm paced the flight deck, looking for a familiar face. For some unknown reason, the anxious lawyer didn't believe he would see the face of Sarah MacKenzie. In a way he couldn't explain, and frankly didn't even want to try to, he *knew* she was somewhere below deck. Every minute mattered and the Naval lawyer now-turned rescue worker didn't think he could wait one more second before heading into the smoke-filled stairwell leading to where he knew he had to go.
"Commander Rabb? Is that you, sir?"
He turned in the direction of the voice that called his name, and saw the exhausted figure of one Petty Officer Jennifer Coates.
"Jen, are you okay? Where's Colonel MacKenzie?" His eyes took in her appearance all at once, noting the grimy streaks left by smoke and sweat as well as the random blood stains dotting her uniform.
"I'm not hurt, sir," she answered flatly. She watched his eyes scan her and repeated herself. "Really, I'm fine, Commander. None of this is my blood. I've been helping the wounded, and some of them-" she stumbled for the first time, "some of them-are-."
Harm saw the calm desert her eyes, and watched a wild sadness take its place. //Way to go, Rabb,// he cursed himself, //You're supposed to be helping people, not traumatizing them further.//
"I'm glad to hear you're okay, Petty Officer," he said quietly but sincerely. "It's good that you can help get these others the medical attention they need." He paused, and then asked the question burning in his soul, "Do you know where Colonel Mackenzie is?"
His question made it impossible for the enlisted young woman to recover her calm. Instead, her brown eyes filled with tears as she tried to answer the man in front of her. G-d, why did *she* have to be the one to give Commander Rabb this news?!
"I don't know, sir," Jen told him in a broken voice, "We were together, then the Colonel remembered she had left a book in the JAG office and went to get it. She went below deck, and less than a minute later there was the explosion-"
Harm reached out and pulled the now-crying Jen Coates into a hug, holding on as much for his own sake as for hers. He had believed Mac was somewhere below deck, but having his thoughts confirmed . . . the certainty of it chilled him to the bone.
"It's all right, Jen. We'll find her and she'll be fine."
The matter-of-fact tone of his words stopped her quiet sobs abruptly.
"Sir, how do you know? I mean, I want to believe it, but the fire-" she couldn't finish the sentence. How could she say that the Colonel was dead?
Before the senior officer could answer, a shout interrupted their conversation.
"Commander Rabb!" Captain Danzig barked. "Let's go; we're moving out!"
"Where are you going, sir?"
"I'm helping one of the search and rescue teams. I know the SEAHAWK; I can help them search."
"Commander, let me help!" she asked suddenly.
The lawyer shook his head. "Jen," he began, "You should stay up on deck. You're already doing needed work here-"
"Commander, please! I know this carrier as well as you do, better even. Besides, they have enough people to help topside. I need to *do* something . . . I want to help find Colonel MacKenzie. Let me help you!"
The intensity of her plea surprised him, but he knew she couldn't come.
"Petty Officer Coates," he said deliberately, "You are doing work up here that needs to be done. You should keep doing it." He saw her expression change, going from rash hope to defeated sadness. He tried to make her understand, "Jen, you'd need special gear, and oxygen, there isn't time to-"
"Rabb! Did you hear me? It's time to go!"
"Coming, Captain," he hollered. Harm turned back to the woman struggling to compose herself.
"Stay safe up here, Jen," he said quietly, "and say a prayer for Mac."
"I will, sir," she returned, calmer now. "I've learned how to pray again." With that she turned from him and walked towards the clusters of men and women, the injured and those who were helping them.
More calm himself now, Harm turned and ran back to the rescue unit. "I'm ready when you are, Cap. Where do you want to look first?"
"We've got a little bit of luck with us today, Commander," was the oblique reply. Then the captain addressed his next words to the entire team.
"We're the first rescue team to actually go below the deck, to the area beneath the tower. From what I've been able to learn from personnel on ship, it doesn't seem likely that more than a dozen people were below at the time of the explosion. That's good because it means that we won't be trying to bring up a lot of people through the smoke and fire. But it does mean our search has to be thorough; we can't afford to overlook any area where a victim might be." Neil Danzig's attention went back to the newest member of his team.
"And that, Rabb, is where you come in. You know this ship, you have to show us how it's laid out and where we need to look."
"Aye, aye, sir," Harm answered by habit. Then he swallowed before he continued. "I just found out, Cap, that there's another victim down there as well."
TBC