Holiday Op

Chapter Three

Essence of the gods. Essence. Oh, Lord. Prue shut her eyes so tightly, they hurt, but how else could she get any sleep? It wasn't bad enough that she had one ear to the phone to wait to be called out on a run, but now each time she closed her eyelids, Slick appeared as if in a movie, mouthing the words, “Essence of the gods. Essence of the…"

Drat!

She grabbed her pillow, stuck it over her head and after a few minutes attempting to fall asleep with her eyes open, she gave up. Turning to look at the bedside clock, which she'd forbidden herself to look at fifteen times earlier, she looked.

0245 hours. Two forty-five am.

Three hours left to get some sleep before the alarm from hell sounded, and she had to get up to work the day shift. Okay, this was going to end. How foolish to be thinking of Slick, essence, white berries, or the phone ringing.

When she tossed to the other side of the bed for the gazillionth time, she saw the candy bar on the dresser. Shamed into buying it so as not to embarrass herself any further in front of Slick at the store, she'd decided not to eat it lest it keep her awake.

She should have chowed down on it hours ago.

With the control of an Air Force officer, Prue shut her eyelids and let her mind become a blank screen and allowed sleep to take her.

Ring. Ring. Ring!

She reached over to shove the alarm into snooze mode for her usual nine more minutes in bed. The last minute she always sat on the edge to let her blood pressure stabilize, if for no other reason than she didn't want to get up yet, since she didn't have any blood pressure problems.

Ring. Ring! Ring!

"What the heck?” She decided she needed a new alarm if this one was going to act up. One eyelid opened to see if the thing looked possessed. What it looked was quiet. Non-possessed and next to a ringing phone.

0300 hours.

She'd dozed off for fifteen freaking minutes. Now she needed to answer the call that might have her airborne within the hour.

In the time she grabbed the receiver, she said a quick prayer that the dust was still kickin’ outside and all choppers were grounded, and the only means of transport was via ambulance. Nice safe ambulances through the dark desert sans traffic.

"Captain Hamlin here."

The disembodied voice of Airman Walker, unmistakable with his Alabama hominy grits southern accent, said, “Ma'am, we have a run to Fort McNally for you. Premature labor."

Prue remained silent for a second. Airman Walker? Walker? Who the heck? Airman… She yawned and looked down. The pillows enticed her to rest her head on them for just a second. A tiny little second of more rest. They almost glowed at her. “No!"

"Ma'am? I have you down on call for tonight. Did I make a mistake?"

"Oh. No. I'm on my way. ETA fifteen minutes."

"Roger, ma'am."

The phone line buzzed in her ear.

Prue hurried into the ER, making it there with an ETA of thirteen minutes. That, because she mentally smacked herself to keep awake, alert, and dress in record speed before this little one popped out way before it's time. But, in true female fashion, she had the foresight to grab the chocolate bar from her bedside stand on her way to the base, but hadn't had time to eat it yet.

She touched her pocket. Yes. A treat for later.

Airman Walker came running around the corner. “Room three, ma'am. Helo on its way. Fire department called."

"Ugh. Don't remind me.” She waved him on as she heard the fire truck's siren heading in their direction.

Despite the shudder for her own welfare, she hitched into nurse mode, hurried into room three, and introduced herself to the patient while she assessed the woman's condition.

"So, Airman Jenkins, you're going for a little jaunt to Fort McNally. The Army will kick this little one's butt so it'll stay inside until it ripens more.” She winked at the mom as she lay with worry lines across her forehead and fear in her eyes. “Hey, everyone knows the Air Force is the cream of the military crop, and, with that said, probably the softest. Ha! So, the Army will get your little one to follow an order. Don't even get me started on the Marines!"

Airman Jenkins, gave a soft laugh, then scrunched her face up.

Prue placed her hand on the airman's abdomen and felt her uterus harden as she watched the monitor. Great. Strong contractions and a baby whose lungs aren't ready to work on their own. With the skill she'd been trained in, Prue went to work, hurrying about, getting a report from the ER doctor that the baby was only twenty-nine weeks along, Airman Jenkins had had two previous premature deliveries that resulted in fetal demise, and she was a smoker.

Lotta odds against the kid.

Prue shut her eyes long enough to say a quick prayer, then shot into action. All the while trying to comfort the mom and get her into the chopper so they could make a hasty takeoff, she kept her hand on the woman's abdomen and timed the cursed contractions.

While the airmen strapped the mom in, the pilot pulled Prue aside. “If we have to land, give me about five minutes."

"Are you nuts?"

"I can't even hear myself think in that thing let alone be able to tell if that baby's birthday is December twenty-fourth."

Suddenly she froze.

Tomorrow was Christmas.

The pilot lifted the chopper off the ground in seconds as Prue watched the fire truck below become smaller and smaller. In her conversation with him, she'd gotten reassurance that the recent dust storms had died down enough for their little jaunt. Then again, he'd said, nothing prevented them from starting up in this dustbin.

Prue made her best assessment of Airman Jenkins's condition and instructed her to let Prue know immediately if she felt like pushing. Please, God, no. With that she kept her hand on the woman's abdomen and grimaced as each contraction felt stronger and stronger.

"Oh!” Airman Jenkins shouted, but not because of contraction.

Prue felt like screaming too when the helicopter shifted in the winds, and a sudden gust caused them to violently shake and toss about. Then they started to head downward-or so it felt. The pilot managed to pull up, but that didn't stop the entire crew's fears. Prue convinced herself they all felt the same as she did so she wouldn't feel like the only wimp.

A gust knocked them sideways for a few seconds.

The pilot's voice came across the headphones built into the helmets they all wore. “Looks like the wind's acting up here. We're going to low-level position. Everything okay back there? Make sure you're all strapped in good."

Prue looked at the patient whose eyes had darkened in fear. Had to be from the shaky flight. She could see the airman's mouth moving, but couldn't hear any words in this noisy tin trap. She leaned near and felt her abdomen. Rock hard. The mom's face was now scrunched up as if she needed to… Oh, Lord.

She was pushing.

"No!” Prue leaned near the woman's ear. “Don't push. Don't push! Pant. Hee, hee, hee,” she said in her ear as if that would help-or as if Airman Jenkins could even hear her.

"Hey! Land this thing!” she shouted.

"Roger, ma'am,” was the last thing she heard.

A gust of wind encircled the helicopter and Prue ended up near the door, grabbing onto something metal. Not sure what it was, she held tightly until the helicopter righted itself.

Yet it never did.

The airman in the back with her was shouting something, but no sound came through her helmet. He started to undo his seatbelt, but before she could continue to watch him, something made her turn her head and wished she hadn't. The metal thing was the door latch-and now it was open. Obviously the airman had grabbed her foot, but she didn't look at him since her thoughts were occupied by seeing a cactus heading toward her. Toward her! Surely the pilot would pull up, causing the airman to keep his hold on her and yank her…

Without even a scream, since she felt sure she was mute now, the arms of the gigantic Saguaro poked into the sleeve of her uniform, into her shoulder, and harpooned her like a little hummingbird, plucking her from the safety of the airman's hold and the chopper's doorway.

And then the darkness of the desert engulfed her.

Numb to anything, she watched the helicopter hover above her for what seemed like hours, but had to be minutes as the gusts of winds picked up-and subsequently knocked the chopper about like a toy. The airman had thrown a rope out, but the winds whisked it away.

In seconds, the craft would be smashed into the heavy desert growth-and the baby would be fighting against more than an early delivery.

"Go!” she shouted to the pilot waving her good hand to the helicopter to go higher before the low-level flight collided with the high-towering cactus. “Get the hell out of here!” Pain radiated in her body as everything she touched was a prickly spike along with the ones hurting her shoulder now.

She remembered thinking that she had never seen such tall cacti around the base. She also thought that she'd never been out in the desert this far and, by her calculations, the Army post wasn't much farther-by air miles.

A fuzzy voice filled her ears. Despite static that nearly made it unclear to understand a word, she heard the pilot say, “The mom… is… pain and water… post… ASAP. Sending… for you."

Sending for you?

Sending… help. Yeah. She would be fine.

It was then that she realized her arm was stuck to the cactus, legs dangling, body sore, blood draining down to her fingers and pain shooting throughout her mind.

Maybe she wasn't going to be fine.

She was going to die on a giant Saguaro like an ornament on her mom's blue spruce Christmas tree.

Prue shut her eyes and thanked God for the life she'd led so far.

So far. That really wasn't very much.

How sad.