Nemesis Chapter 24

For the next hour, time stood still.

Max kept a careful watch on Grant's  condition.  His pulse remained erratic, his breathing labored.  He was blistery hot every time Max checked.  Max was hopeful that the fever reducers would have at least made a slight difference by now, but if they had he couldn't tell.  Besides, Grant had not roused since he'd taken the medication, which worried Max greatly.

Occasionally, Max got up to watch for help to arrive, but he never lingered too long.  He didn't want to be away from his partner.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Max heard the chop-chopping of helicopter blades getting louder and louder.  After a few moments, a yellow rescue helicopter came into view. Max did his best to shield his friend from the swirling dust as the chopper touched down.

Immediately, the door opened and two figures in reddish-orange jumpsuits leaped out and came running toward the two agents.

"Are you all right, sir?"  the first paramedic asked Max anxiously, as the second man turned his attention to Grant.

"Take care of him first," Max replied, deflecting the attention from himself. "I'm worried about his fever."

"Its high, all right," confirmed the medic.  "We'll get some fluids into him on the way to the hospital.  That should help."

The first paramedic was still focused on Max.

"You're favoring that arm," he commented, as he checked Max over.

"Yeah, I think its broken," Max replied dryly.

"Any other injuries?"

"Maybe a busted rib or two."

The medic's brow furrowed in concern.  "Do you need a stretcher, too?"

"No, I'm good,"  Max answered.  "But take him first.  You can come back for me."

The medic smiled at Max. "We've got room for both of you," he said reassuringly.

Grant was securely strapped onto the stretcher and carried to the chopper, while the other medic helped Max climb on board behind him.  In seconds, the whirlybird had taken off and was headed back to Italy to the nearest hospital.

Inside the helicopter, things were very  busy.  As one paramedic worked on splinting Max's broken left humerus, the other two focused on bringing Grant's fever down.  Max watched them as they applied icepacks to Grant's body and started IV fluids.

One of the medics offered Max some cool water, and he accepted it gratefully.  He took a drink, and suddenly his throat hitched.  He began to cough violently.

"Are you okay?"  the medic asked anxiously.

Max paused to take a deep breath, but something was wrong.  He shook his head.  "Can't...catch my breath," he managed to gasp.  He suddenly felt light headed and everything started to spin around.

"Pressure in your chest?"  he heard the paramedic ask.  He managed to nod, and then his vision began to fade out.

"He's cyanotic," the medic said.  Then everything was a blur.  Max was dimly aware of something metallic being placed on his finger.  Then something bulky was thrust against his chest and his good arm propped against it to hold it in place.  Finally, something was placed over his mouth and nose, but instead of smothering him, it seemed to make breathing easier.

After a few deep breaths, the world came back into focus.  The paramedic was beside him, a hand on Max's right shoulder.

"Better?" he asked, with a slight smile.

Max nodded.  He wanted to ask what had happened, but sensed that he needed to remain still and keep everything in place.

The medic read the look in Max's eyes.  "Looks like your broken rib nicked your lung,” he explained.  "You should be fine in a few days."

Max nodded his thanks, then turned his head slightly toward his friend.

"His fever's come down a bit," the medic advised him.  "It's still quite high, and he'll need antibiotics to help him fight off the infection.  But he should be okay."

Then there was silence as the helicopter crew prepared for landing at the Italian hospital.