Chapter Thirteen: Safe Return
Emily whipped around on her heel, instantly charged with energy and anxiety. Hastily dropping her coat and gloves unceremoniously on the floor, she sprinted across the room to the communications booth. "What is it? Is it Victoria?" she gasped breathlessly. The sergeant nodded briefly and offered her the headset, which she snatched with trembling hands, as though she feared that the transmission might end if she didn't move fast enough. "Hello?" she tried, but it came out as a hoarse croak. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Hello?"
"Emily?" Katie's voice crackled over the line.
"Katie!" Emily cried, nearly jumping out of her skin in relief, "Are you all right? Did you find Jerry? Is he –?"
"He's back, Em. I'm transmitting from the plane's radio," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "We'll touch down in about an hour." Emily felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. Something about that carefully emotionless voice seemed wrong.
"Katie? What's wrong? What happened?" She paused, hardly daring to ask the next question, "Is anyone hurt?"
"There was… there was an accident, Em," Katie's voice now shook with worry and strain over the static of the intercom. "The doctor fell through the ice and broke his leg. He's in critical condition."
"And Jerry?"
"Fine, not injured. But… he's very sick. He's been coughing violently ever since we got him inside and he has level two, possible level three frostbite on the tips of his fingers. He passed out about five minutes after we got him on the plane." She was quiet for a minute, letting the news sink in, then she added, "Meet us in the hangar."
"I'll be there," Emily immediately affirmed, "Be careful, Katie."
The hour's wait was, for Emily, agonizing as she restlessly paced the hangar. The brisk wind – always chilly – was blowing through the open hangar doors with a little more bite than usual and the temperature gage read about fifteen degrees below normal. The storms were moving in. Emily ached to think of Jerry and the Doctor being caught out in even the fringes of the oncoming storms. How they had made it back through the swirling snow was a miracle yet to be explained, yet, Emily could not stop herself from being sure that Maya was the reason Jerry had made it back alive.
Finally the thrum of propellers reached her ears and she threw on her hat and scarf to rush outside with the rest of the ground crew to greet the plane. It glided smoothly to a stop and Katie promptly killed the engine before leaping out and being gathered into the arms of the medical personnel. Cooper threw his door open and gratefully stumbled into Emily's welcoming arms, his fear of flying intensified by the rough, wild ride he'd just been through. Unwilling to be deterred from her main goal, Emily quickly steadied him, transferred him to the arms of a waiting nurse and hopped into the plane to help Andy and Rosie out. Doctor McLaren lay prone on an improvised stretcher, swaddled tightly in many layers of blankets. Even from her standing position over him, she could hear the shallow rasping of his breath through half-frozen lungs. Allowing herself to be nudged aside by the staff, she watched carefully as the medics gently pulled the stretcher out of the plane and carried him to the base's infirmary. Her eyes then shifted to Jerry's deathly still form, leaning against the far window. His hands were heavily bandaged and a hot pack was pressed to his chest and neck in an obvious effort to ease the cough Katie had told her about.
"Excuse me, Miss Hawkins," one of the paramedics cleared his throat and gestured toward Jerry, "but we need to move him immediately." Emily nodded numbly and stepped aside as they carefully pulled Jerry out of the plane and laid him on a stretcher to be wheeled to the infirmary.
As they rolled swiftly away, Emily turned back to Katie, who was just waving off any medical attention. They pulled each other into a tight embrace, and Emily murmured in a shaky voice, "I'm glad you're back, Kate. I was going crazy with worry."
Katie hugged her back for a moment before pulling sharply away. "We don't have much time," she said urgently, "I promised Jerry I'd go back for the dogs as soon as I got here."
"You left them!" Emily cried.
"There wasn't room for them and everything else. But I have to hurry." Katie was already beginning to climb back in the cockpit of the plane.
"I'm coming with you," Emily said firmly, starting around to the other side of the plane.
"Neither of you is going anywhere," Captain Mitchell commanded gruffly, seeming to materialize from nowhere. "The skies are closed. Only the planes flying to New Zealand will be allowed to leave."
"But sir," Katie objected, her brown eyes flashing, "the dogs, they'll die if we don't go back. We have to –"
"That's an order, Yamesch," Captain Mitchell responded tartly, "No one flies." He eyed them both as they reluctantly climbed down from the cockpit to stand meekly in front of him, then he nodded in satisfaction. "You'd best get your gear in order – you're both to fly out by the end of the week. Hawkins, you're rescheduled to a later flight in light of the present state of your friends. I will allow you to stay until the end of this week, but no later." With that, he turned and strode away, issuing orders to the ground crews as he departed.
Emily watched him go, steaming, while Katie spun furiously and slammed her clenched fists against the solid steel hull of the plane. "He can't do this!" she cried in frustration. "He can't just sentence eight dogs to death because he doesn't want us to fly there and back! He knows we could make it!" Still in a rage, she stalked away to try and gain access to a plane from another source.
Silent, Emily remained by the plane, fuming. Then, on a sudden intuition, she made a decision – one that would probably get her fired for insubordination and stealing. Katie's keys were still in the ignition and she hurriedly popped open the hatch door. Just as she was about to climb up, a shout went up and suddenly, Bryan Rice had a firm grip around her waist, pulling her back. "No, Emily, no!" he cried, gritting his teeth as she kicked him in the shins.
"Let me go, Bryan!" she growled menacingly, barely registering their sudden use of each other's first names. Strong as she might have been though, Bryan was stronger. Almost effortlessly, he caught her shoulders and pressed her against his chest, pinioning her arms at her side, where she was helpless to fight back.
"There are better ways to do this," Bryan grunted as she struggled against his hold. "Do you really want to give your career up for a few dogs?"
"Let me go, Bryan, or so help me…" she trailed off, letting her threat die on her lips. There was nothing she could do to him at present. He was a trained military officer and considerably stronger than she. Sighing resignedly, she sagged in his grip. "Who told you to watch me?"
Bryan smiled slightly. Sensing she would cooperate, he loosed his grip and allowed her to turn around and face him. "Captain Mitchell thought that one of you might try something like this, so he had me keep an eye on the planes – and you two – until you both left. It seems he calculated correctly." He looked down at her, more serious than she'd ever seen him. "Look, Hawkins, I don't know why this matters so much to you. If it was Shepard, I would understand. But you?"
Passing a weary hand over her eyes, Emily sighed. "Don't worry about it. To tell you the truth, I don't know why I care so much, either." Wordlessly, she pushed herself away from him and walked away, pulling her snowmobile keys out of her pocket as she went. When she got home, she fell into her bed, feeling all the stress and shock of the day crashing down on her and sending her careening into the oblivion of sleep.
Author's Note: So? How was it? Emily's emotions are a little hard to portray, because she's torn between loyalty to Katie and Jerry, love for the dogs, and a desire to keep her job. Mainly this chapter shows how she can be hotheaded and impulsive, but when Bryan gives a reality check, she comes out of it a little confused.If it's not the greatest, my apologies. Don't forget to review! Constructive crit is more than welcome... flamers will be laughed at. Praise earns little digital cookies!