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have to go now. The plane might explode.”
    Elle had introduced her. What was her name? “Pamela, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “I want you to sit tight for just a minute.” He turned his attention to Elle. “I heard you say something about your arm.”
    “It’s fine,” she said, dismissing the inquiry. “What about you?”
    He rolled his shoulders back and considered his own injuries. He’d been lucky. He was going to have a hell of a lump on his head, but he could get past that. Something from above had hit his back and it was definitely going to be bruised and sore tomorrow, but if the angle of the hit had been a little sharper and a couple inches higher, it likely would have fractured his spine and he would never have walked again.
    He stood up, careful not to hit his head on parts of the hanging interior. “I’m good to go. I’ll check the crew first,” he said.
    She moved, shrinking far enough back in the small space to let him pass without touching her. He was grateful for that. His nerves felt pretty raw. When the copilot announced that they should prepare to crash, he’d prepared to die. Had said a quick prayer, said a mental goodbye to his parents and to both Ethan and Mack, the best friends a man could have had. And he’d thought about Elle, whom he’d loved and lost and never known why.
    “I’ll need some light,” he said. She handed him the flashlight. He took it, careful not to brush up against her fingers.
    He saw the young copilot sitting in his chair and moved toward him. “My name is Brody Donovan. I’m a doctor,” he said.
    “Thank God, a doctor,” the young man said, his jaw clenched tight. “I hope you don’t deliver babies for a living.”
    “Orthopedic surgeon,” Brody said.
    “My lucky day,” the copilot said.
    Brody wasn’t so sure of that. He’d seen enough to know that the young man had a compound fracture of the tibia.
    “What’s your name?” Brody asked.
    “Angus Bayfield.”
    “Angus, I’m going to be able to help you, but for now, I need you to not move that leg.” When a bone broke and one end protruded through the skin, that meant that there was another sharp end still inside the leg, able to do all kinds of damage to veins and arteries. The blood loss wasn’t bad and he wanted to keep it that way.
    “I’m going to quickly assess the others,” Brody said. He’d been in a combat zone for a long time. Triage was the name of the game. Assess everyone, identify the wounded, identify those most critically wounded that would benefit from treatment, and proceed from there. “Are there any other flashlights on board and what about a first-aid kit?”
    The man pointed over his shoulder toward a big flashlight that was still miraculously hanging on the wall. Brody reached over and unsnapped the straps that kept it in place and flipped it on. It lit up the whole space, much better than the small flashlight that Elle had given him.
    There were sections of the roof of the plane hanging down and exposed wires. The front windshield was shattered, making it difficult to see anything outside.
    He heard movement behind him and turned. It was Elle. He handed her back her flashlight.
    “I’m going to sit with the Hardys,” Elle said.
    “Tell them I’ll be there in just a minute.”
    “Sir,” Angus said, “there’s a first-aid kit under the captain’s seat.”
    Brody fished around and pulled out the rectangular aluminum box. Holding the flashlight in one hand, he used his other to flip open the lid. He made a quick assessment. Basic stuff. Bandages. Gauze. Alcohol sponges. Ibuprofen. Antiseptic wipes. Antibiotic ointment. Adhesive tape. Scissors. Several pairs of gloves.
    He turned toward the pilot. The man was still strapped in and he was regaining consciousness. He pushed himself back from the controls, almost to the point where he was sitting up. He looked stunned. There was blood running down the side of his face from a hell of a gash on the side of his head