Second Chances (31 page)

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“BP, ninety over sixty…” Rag took the stethoscope out of his ears and draped it round his neck, glancing at the ECG monitor on the defibrillator. Gillespie’s heart rate was still steady but the blood pressure was worrying.

“Damn, that’s too low,” Miles muttered.

“He could do with a transfusion, whole blood…” Rag suggested.

“In case you didn’t notice, there’s no local blood bank within cooee,” Miles replied testily.

“From me, Miles,” Gideon replied, eliciting a startled look from the doctor.

Miles shook his head. “Too dangerous. I have no idea what his blood group is.”

“I’m O neg. It’s the friendly type, like me.” Gideon winked. “It can be given to anybody. It’s a proven battlefield technique, Doc. We call it the Walking Blood Bank; those of us who are prepared to donate if it’s required on the spot.”

“How do I know your blood isn’t contaminated?” Miles felt his own blood pressure rising. “Do you know how many people have become infected with HIV after receiving blood transfusions?” Losing Gil to a wound was one thing. Watching another lover die from AIDS would be simply too much.

Gideon watched Miles’ shoulders tense up as he lent over and began working. “You don’t know,” Gideon replied gently. He’d read the files and had a good idea what the man was thinking. “You have to trust me that I’m clean, and that my blood group is a match. I know it is. I’ve done this before, contributed to saving more than one of my colleagues in the line of duty.”

“The accepted terminology is “positive” or “negative”, mate. “Clean” isn’t used in the gay community; people affected aren’t dirty, just sick.”

Gideon shrugged. “I’m not gay, but thanks for the heads up.” He grinned. “I always consider the day I don’t learn something to be a day wasted…”

What a wanker, thought Miles. The last thing he needed at the moment was a smart-arse. He cautiously cut further into Gil’s arm. The blood was flowing freely now. He needed to operate slowly, carefully, to ensure he didn’t cause any more damage, but because of the blood loss he didn’t have that luxury. “Rag, have you got a tourniquet in that kit of yours?”

Rag nodded and rummaged, bringing out a strap with a quick release fastening on it. He quickly wrapped it round Gil’s arm above the elbow and tightened it. The bleeding lessened immediately, but it wasn’t something they could leave on indefinitely. Constricted blood flow meant even more complications.

Miles glanced up and stared at Gideon, their eyes only inches apart as they bent over the unconscious man.
Why should I trust you?
He was Eidolon’s representative after all and so far they hadn’t done anything to reassure him they were looking after any interests other than their own. The blood flow increased as he made another incision, releasing the next barb. Shit. He had to take the risk. He gave the man a sharp nod and went back to his task.

“Here you, come here.” Gideon beckoned the second of the large native islanders over and showed him where to stand so they could keep the patient immobilised. Gil moaned softly and tried to move, but the three islanders held him steady, gently but firmly. Miles paused until his patient was still again.

Gideon straightened and backed away. “You got the kit, Rag?” With a brief silent nod in answer, Rag drew out more sealed sterile packets. “Then let’s do it.” Gideon hopped up onto a vacant bed and rolled up his sleeve as Ragnar brought the equipment over. “Rag can draw off a liter and then transfuse it into Gil straight away.”

“A liter, are you kidding?” Miles shook his head, but didn’t stop what he was doing. “That’s too much, 500ml and that’s it. Any more and you risk causing trouble for yourself.” Miles was putting his foot down about this. It was a crazy idea in the first place, and he didn’t need another basket case on his hands.

“Rag, take two 450ml bags off me. One isn’t enough. Look, doc, you can give me the hot sweet tea and biccies afterwards, and I’ll lie here like a good boy and recover, but Gillespie needs this. Normally in the field we’ve got plenty of guys who are ready and willing to donate but right now, there’s only me. So don’t argue. I’m fit, I’m healthy, I won’t suffer too much.”

“Seems like I don’t have a choice.” Miles snapped. At least the men knew what they were doing. In no time at all Gil was hooked up and the blood slowly but surely replaced what was lost.

Memories of looking after Darren flashed through his brain during the operation, making it hard to concentrate. In the end, Miles had to push all his emotion aside and disassociate himself from the fact that the man under his knife was a good friend and lover, or at least had been his lover.
Was that one night all they would have together?

@—}–—}——

It felt like forever, but Miles finally finished removing the lethal looking weapon. He stitched the wound closed, leaving in a tube to drain off any resulting build-up of fluid. There was nothing more he could do.

A sudden exclamation from Rag startled Miles as he turned away, peeling off his gloves.

“Doc! He’s going into ve-tac.” Rag worriedly scanned the screen on the defibrillator they were using as an ECG monitor. Ve-tac—ventricular tachycardia—was a dangerous condition, a too-rapid heart beat that could lead to cardiac arrest if it wasn’t treated.

No! Damn it, everything had been going okay. Removing the barb had definitely been fiddly, but nothing that should have caused this reaction.
What had gone wrong?
Miles rushed back to the bedside and couldn’t breathe for a second as he took in Gil’s still form. He looked so peaceful. Darren had looked like that at the end. His knees nearly buckled under him.
Easy, Miles, you can do it.
Darren was always able to calm his jitters. He took a deep breath and pushed Jerri aside, motioning for the others to stand back. “Quick, defib!”

Had Gil had a hemolytic reaction?
If it had been the wrong blood type, Gil’s kidneys could fail, causing circulatory collapse.
Had he killed him after all by believing Gideon?
Bugger it, he had to focus. He needed to act now, before Gil’s heart stopped; otherwise the defibrillator would be well-nigh useless. Rag had powered the machine up, pressing buttons and prepping the paddles. The high-pitched whine like a camera flash aggravated Miles’ ears. Rag handed him the paddles. “Clear!” Miles barked and pressed them to Gil’s chest.

The resulting jolt wasn’t nearly as dramatic as all the television dramas loved, but it was dramatic enough. Rag glanced up. The islanders looked startled, obviously never having seen anything like this before. The doctor was ignoring them, his attention fixed on the display. It beeped, steadied, then the alarm sounded. Rag swore under his breath. Shit. “It hasn’t worked. He’s going into ve-fib.”

“Again. Clear!” Miles was following protocol with the verbal command as he pressed the paddles to Gil’s chest once more. The islanders didn’t need the warning, they had stepped back as far as it was possible to go. Once again, the charge shocked through Gil and both men glanced at the screen, anxiously watching for any change.

“It’s stabilising, I think…” Rag said cautiously. The trace had gone back to a regular blip, but it was still touch and go. The doctor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly the machine emitted a continuous whine. “Flatline!”

“Oh, shit!” Miles stared at the paddles then at Rag.

“No use, Doc.”

Miles tried to think, but his brain refused to work. “Epinephrine… vasopressin? What have you got in your bag?” If they don’t work it’s down to CPR… So few patients came back from that. Those that did… images of brain damage and renal failure popped up… He could not lose Gil like this…

“Doc!” Rag was shaking him, pressing a syringe and a bottle into his hand. “Come on, Doc, move! He needs you now…”

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Early afternoon, 27th January, Mystery Island

Harry stood back and surveyed the room appreciatively. Everything was in place, to his and Lyle’s satisfaction. Now all they needed to do was finish positioning all the cameras and the network was done until they received the final consignment. The only worrying thing was identifying what was blocking their comms signals. If they could find that, then they were home and dry.

“Just wish I knew what it was,” he had said to Lyle when the man had come back from seeing his injured friend off. Lyle had looked subdued and Harry tried to take his mind off it by turning the discussion onto the cause of the signal damper.

“Well I suppose it could be someone intercepting the signal, or it could be more localised interference. Not really my forte.”

“If we don’t find it, it’s going to play havoc with our signals. We should maybe look at getting more equipment in to dampen the effect…?” Harry was failing in his aim to divert Lyle’s thoughts; the man was too preoccupied. “I’m sure he’ll be okay, you know. If they’ve found the doctor…”

“He looked bad, that spike… We’re so isolated here.”

“Well, it’s down to us to make us less isolated then. We’re the tech bods, we have the technology…” he intoned and grinned. “Look, Lyle… I’m used to this, to some extent. Me and the other lads, we’re ex-military, we’re used to being constantly thrown on our own resources, we’ve been isolated in much more challenging surroundings than these. Be thankful, we’ve no hostiles pointing guns at us. We’ve no severe threats to our immediate safety… well, other than holes in the ground…” Harry shrugged, “and maybe adverse weather fronts… I’m not reassuring you, am I?” He grinned.

“Not much, no…” Lyle agreed, allowing himself a small smile. “But you’re here to do your bit for island security, it’s all part of what you signed up for, I suppose.”

Harry glanced at Lyle and sighed. “We did, but you didn’t. It can be a difficult transition for civilians. One minute you’re safe, the next…” he paused. “Truth to tell, you’re not that safe. Most civilians just think they are because they are surrounded by the familiar.”

“Safe hasn’t been something I could feel for quite a few years now. Seeing Gil hurt that badly just has brought to mind how far from home we really are though.”

“I can appreciate that.” Harry smiled and nodded. “Look, we usually get together for a few beers in downtime. You’d be welcome to join us, if you like. We made sure the cooler was well stocked.” He grinned again. “I think we may manage a party one night, although there are not many girls and the gay guys seem to outnumber the straights two to one.”

“I’d love a beer. Can’t say I can make up for the lack of girls though.”

“Well, maybe we can coax Aggi into joining us. Although from what I hear, she’s a bit of a Viking battleaxe.”

“The cook? She seemed nice enough.”

Lyle knew Harry was trying to stop him brooding about Gil. His friend had looked pretty seriously injured though, and Lyle wasn’t at all convinced that Miles was up to treating the injury, not because of any lack of skill on his part but due to a lack of facilities. Babbling about the differences between civilians and ex-military was not the way Harry should be going, though. It was too much ‘us and you’. Frankly, the guy was starting to get on his nerves.

“Look, I’ve had enough of this, for now.” He gestured to the stacked up equipment. “I’m going to go for a stroll…I promise not to get kidnapped or to fall down any holes. Catch you in an hour or so, back here?”

“Sure, if that’s what you need. I’ll check out the radar while you’re gone; that way we’ll get notice of when Gideon’s returning.” Harry winked. He knew Lyle was sleeping in their boss’s room, what that meant they had already speculated on, and Harry was pretty sure he would win their little bet. He couldn’t see the appeal of the man himself, but Gideon took his pleasures where he found them. That was part of being a soldier too.

Lyle watched for the optimum moment before scooping up the materials he was going to need. He didn’t want to show his hand to Harry. There was no love lost between Gideon and Pierce, but he was less sure where the other mercenaries stood, and they might not all approve of what he was about to do.

@—}–—}——

The wind was up again, for which Lyle was eternally grateful. He loathed how much sweat he was able to generate just by standing still on this island. He longed to be able to strip off his top, slap on some tanning oil and become a beach-bum-surfer-dude. He was going to have to lean on Pierce, get some answers out of her about how soon Eidolon was going to settle their debt to him. Bugging her bure was just perfect in terms of gaining the leverage he figured was going to be necessary to tie things up properly.

Trust Pierce, arrogant bitch that she is, to bag the nicest of the still-standing bures; no sharing a dormitory for her,
Lyle thought to himself, as he weighed up the building to see if it was truly empty at present.

Lyle was finding it hard to make himself take the time to properly scout out Pierce’s bure; he wasn’t sure how long he had before the Eidolon big noise would return from Rapatoka. He didn’t imagine the locals would throw a luau for her, making friends wasn’t her forte. He absolutely mustn’t get caught at this stage, but he needed to hurry too so that he could set up the surveillance in her bure to get maximum coverage. He gave it five minutes, crouched in the treeline observing the low building, then scurried to the doorway of the low building. He’d expected to find the place all locked up, but it wasn’t. Very cautiously he let himself in.