Chasing Anne

Touch Down

Andrew followed Colonel Ryan down a narrow hallway to a small door near the end. Ryan wrapped his hand around the handle and squeezed it, turning the knob and pushing the door inward so they could enter in. Andrew followed close behind, his eyes tired, but all the more anxious to find out just what Mark's condition was. The room they'd entered was clearly the medical room of the plane. It wasn't large, but it held some of the instruments that Andrew would find in his normal office at the hospital. It brought him hope, knowing that he had somewhere to start lest Mark's condition be serious enough to need an immediate operation or surgery. Once he was inside the little room, it didn't take him long to find that his condition was worse than serious. Mark looked as though he'd been run over by a train. Blood stained his right shoulder and had soaked through his shirt sleeve. His head was severely cut in several places and his right calf was also stained scarlet. His face was sickly pale and Andrew instantly knew that the loss of blood was the cause of the fatigue. How long had he been like this? Though Dr. James whatever had tried to bandage some of the bullet wounds, what really bothered Andrew was Mark's right shoulder. It had bled through the bandages that Dr. Mitchel had wrapped around it and his humorous looked broken which clearly wasn't a good sign.

"Where was the impact of the fall from the horse taken?" Andrew asked, striding over to Mark's side and examining the man's arm.

"His right shoulder," Ryan replied. "He was thrown forward, somersaulted a few times and then hit, his shoulder taking the impact of the fall, and then his head following."

"His head hit after his shoulder?" Andrew asked, dread building in his chest.

Ryan nodded. "Anne fell on top of him, but he was already out cold."

Andrew took Mark's left wrist in his hands and felt for a pulse. His heart was racing, giving him a good idea of just how much pain Mark was going through. With a sigh, he set his arm back down and shook his head. "There's not much I can do here. How fast can you get me to a hospital?"

"Andrew, if we take him to a hospital, Parr will find him. You know how risky that is!"

"Well, with how much blood he's lost, him staying here is risky too! We have got to touch down somewhere and get him the right medical treatment. I simply can't do that here!"

"I can get you to my home on the Mississippi river in about two hours. Is that enough time?"

Andrew looked like he was about to shake his head, but then glanced at Mark and sighed. "I'll do what I can here. But the sooner we get to Mississippi, the sooner he starts recovering. I know his humorous is broken and there's going to be a lot of bruising around his shoulder, but at this moment, I'm just worried about how much blood he's lost."

"How long do you think he has?"

"At best, two and a half hours. At worst, an hour. By now he's lost at least two pints of blood and . . . he's not going last."

"What can you do in the mean time?" Ryan asked, his voice cracking with emotion as the weight of his son's condition came upon him.

"I can try to remove the bullets and close the wounds. That'll buy time," Andrew said, glancing around the walls at the medical instruments throughout the room. "Other than that, there's not much else I can do. I simply don't have the equipment to do anything else."

Ryan nodded and looked down at the floor, trying to hide his tearful face. "I'll head for Mississippi as quickly as I can, but please, do all that you can to save him," he said, his voice drenched with emotion.

"I will."

Ryan nodded again and then, after a final glance at Mark, he turned and withdrew from the room.