Chapter Four

"She's got a pulse!" Rudy proclaimed in an urgent voice, already beginning mouth-to-mouth. "Get the oxygen and the water – and call the medivac!" Oscar ran back into the chopper while Rudy worked frantically over Jaime's prone body. "C'mon, Honey, breathe!" Rudy pleaded, in between puffs of air. "Don't do this – not now!" It seemed like forever before Jaime finally whimpered softly, taking her own tentative gasp of air. "That's it," the doctor coaxed, smoothing the hair from her forehead. She was so hot! After fitting the oxygen mask to her face, Rudy took the bottle of water from Oscar and began tenderly wetting Jaime's lips and brushing small, cool dabs across her face.

Jaime returned to consciousness in fight mode, but was too weak to hurt anyone. Rudy cradled her in his arms to stop her from flailing about, then eased her carefully into a sitting position as she slowly opened her eyes. "Easy, Honey," he said softly. "Can you take a little water?" He poured a small sip between her parched lips and rubbed her back in a gesture of comfort. "You're okay now; we're here. You'll be just fine -"

Her hazel eyes were wide with confusion, open but not seeing him. Rudy could feel Jaime's heart pounding as he held her close. "Can you hear me?" he asked. She blinked rapidly but didn't respond.

Oscar was the first to notice the bullet wound. "Rudy..." he whispered, glancing at Jaime's side.

Rudy's face blanched, but he continued his soft reassurances and the small sips of water until Jaime finally settled down and leaned into his embrace. Within seconds, she had faded again, going limp in his arms, and Rudy searched the sky anxiously for the rescue chopper. Fortunately, Russ had trusted Rudy's instincts enough to send the medivac to follow them, and minutes later, it was on the ground beside them.

Jaime was lifted onto a gurney and quickly carried aboard. "Stay with us, Honey," Rudy urged, tucking ice packs under her arms and swabbing her face with a cool, damp cloth while one of the medics took her temperature.

"105.6," the medic announced.

Rudy shook his head in dismay. "Heat stroke. Where's the nearest hospital?" he asked the pilot.

"There's one on the Army base, about 20 miles from here."

"That's not close enough!"

"Well, it's the best we can do. I'm flying wide open; I'll get you there as fast as I can."

Rudy bent over the gurney, closer to Jaime. "Hang on," he coaxed. Her skin was flushed and very dry, and she was struggling for each ragged breath. Rudy opened the oxygen flow to full strength and readied the necessary tubes and equipment in case Jaime stopped breathing again. The medic finished with the IV line and stepped away to allow Rudy fuller access. Jaime's pulse was racing at an alarming rate and after giving the cool water and ice several more minutes to work, Rudy took her temperature again. "105.9," he said grimly, his eyes betraying the gravity of the situation. He tucked another ice bag under Jaime's neck and one at the small of her back.

Satisfied that the medics were doing all they could to cool her down, Rudy concentrated now on the bullet wound. It was already turning an angry reddish-purple color. He irrigated it lightly with tepid water, removing as much sand as he could, swabbed it with antiseptic and covered it with gauze then turned his attention to her leg. "Her power pack is intact," he told Oscar, "but the tracking chip is gone. No wonder we couldn't get a reading."

Oscar, in the seat next to the pilot, could only watch Rudy and the medics with mute horror. Rudy didn't know it, but Oscar had seen him at the microscope while he compared the slides. There hadn't been time to ask about the results and Oscar hadn't wanted to press the issue. Whether it was a doctor's instinct that had led him straight to Jaime or something more, Rudy would talk about it when he was ready – or not, but the choice had to be his. Still, Oscar knew he couldn't begin to imagine the heartache and grief the doctor was enduring now, whatever it was that the test had told him.

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