Missing (21 page)

     “How?”

     “Because the other four congressmen are starting to take the credit for it. They wouldn’t do that if things were going badly. Yesterday I saw a flyer put out by Congressman Neuerburger from Texas, and added to our daily delivery of military propaganda.

     “He said that he was the first one who floated around the idea of the ‘new dollar,’ just before the freeze. He’s full of it, of course, but the mere fact he’s talking about it is an indication he’s having regrets about letting Cullen run unopposed.

     “But he passed on the presidential election when he had the chance, so his only option now is to steal some of Cullen’s thunder and try to run against him in the next election.”

     “Sounds like politics hasn’t changed much since the freeze.”

     “Nope. Just a bunch of snakes and weasels looking out for themselves, in my opinion.”

     Karen smiled.

     “Believe it or not, that’s not just your opinion.”

     “That doesn’t surprise me. Say, are you folks here to see Hannah Snyder?”

     “Yes. Room 808.”

     “Good. The doctor sent me to tell you he’s running late on rounds, but he’ll be here shortly to tell you about her condition.”

     “Great. What’s the doctor’s name?”

     “Dr. Goodheart.”

     “What? Seriously?”

     “How come everybody asks me if that’s really his name? Yes, it is, and he’ll be along in a few minutes. So you have time to think up some good jokes about his name.”

     She smiled and disappeared down the hallway.

Chapter 42

     A few minutes later Mark stepped into the hallway.

     “Y’all go ahead and come on in, and thanks for letting me spend some time with her first.”

     Sandy asked, “How’s she doing? Is she able to talk?”

     “No, she’s still sleeping. She didn’t even stir the whole time I was in there. And she’s pretty banged up. But she’s a sight for my sore eyes. And she’s breathing, and that’s all that really matters. Have you guys seen the doctor? I want to ask him some questions.”

     “One of the nurses came down and said he’d be along shortly.”

     Karen gasped as she saw Hannah’s swollen and bruised face.

     Then she cried.

     Rachel followed suit.

     Debbie buried her face in her husband David’s chest.

     And no one said a word.

     “Knock knock.”

     The group turned around to see a tall red-headed man wearing green scrubs.

     On the left side of his chest were the letters WHRMC, spray painted on with stencils, and slightly crooked.

     On the right side were the words “Major F. Goodheart.”

     The nurse wasn’t kidding.

     “I’m Dr. Goodheart. Go ahead and poke fun at my name now and get it out of the way.”

     No one dared say a word.

     They didn’t know if he was serious.

     The doctor smiled and said, “No takers, huh? Good. We can get down to business, then. Which one of you is the husband?”

     Mark said, “I am. Mark Snyder.”

     He reached out and shook the doctor’s hand.

     “I have a lot to tell you about her condition. We can do it in private, if you wish.”

     “That’s okay. These are her friends, and they love her too. They have a right to know. Besides, if you give me all the medical terms and I try to fill everybody else in, I’m gonna screw it all up and they’ll come to you and ask for the real version anyway. So go ahead.”

     “Okay, the worst of it is the internal bleeding. Her appendix was totally destroyed, as was her gall bladder. We removed both of them to stop the hemorrhaging. We gave her a total of seven pints of whole blood during the surgery, which went well, considering.

     “We need to remove part of her stomach and some of her lower intestines that are also damaged beyond repair, but we want to let her stabilize a bit.

     “She’s got one lung, on the left side, that’s badly bruised. Two of her ribs on that side are fractured, but won’t puncture the lung as long as she’s careful. They’ll heal on their own with time.

     “We were afraid her legs were crushed beyond repair when we got the initial word that she was pinned beneath the helicopter’s fuselage for twenty two hours. But it turns out the weight of the helicopter rested on another passenger’s body, which was completely under the chopper. Because that body took the bulk of the weight, Hannah’s legs were pinned but not crushed.

     “She didn’t have to lose them after all.”

     He looked around.

     “Any questions?”

     “Why is her face so swollen?”

     “One side of her jawbone was completely fractured. Part of it had to be removed, because it was nothing but shards of bone. We consulted our resident plastic surgeon, who determined that if we removed the shards and let the bone grow back by itself, her face would be slightly crooked and her teeth would never line up again.”

     “So what did you do?”

     “We cut out a similar section from the other side of her jaw to line the jawbone up perfectly. She’ll notice that her chin doesn’t protrude quite as much as it once did. But other than that her appearance won’t change.

     “The swelling will go down gradually over the next few days. The bruising will fade as well. Within a week or so she’ll look like the Hannah you remember.”

     “How long will she sleep?”

     “That’s hard to say. She was heavily sedated during the surgeries, of course. And the anesthesia should be wearing off in another couple of hours or so.

     “That doesn’t mean she’s going to wake up then, though. When the human body goes through a major trauma, especially when there’s a severe lack of sleep involved, it really takes its toll.

     “The brain and the body sometimes argue with themselves after a severe trauma. The brain wants to wake up and say, ‘Hey, how you guys doin’?’

     “But the body sometimes overrules the brain. The body sometimes says, ‘Screw you, brain. We’ve been through a lot. We’re tired, we lost a lot of blood, and we’re hurting like a son of a bitch. And we hurt less while we’re sleeping. So we’re gonna sleep for awhile. Then we’ll wake up, when we’re darn good and ready.”

     “So she’s not in a coma?”

     “Not technically, no. She’s just worn out.”

     “Won’t she wake up when she’s hungry or thirsty?”

     “Not specifically because of that, no. She was severely dehydrated when she came in, so her body likely won’t produce much urine anytime soon even though we’re pumping her full of fluids. The urine she does produce will drain out of her body via catheter.

     “As far as hunger, she won’t get hungry. See that big bag full of stuff that looks like melted chocolate ice cream? That’s her nourishment. It doesn’t taste very good, but she doesn’t get to taste it anyway.

     “It’s fed into her shoulder through what we call a pic line.”

     “What are those other little bags for?”

     “One of them is intravenous morphine. Since she’s not awake to tell us how bad it hurts, we watch her closely for signs of restlessness. When she starts to flail about or moan, we know she’s in pain and we administer morphine. We closely watch her blood levels, though, so we don’t overdo it and get her hooked on it.

     “After she regains consciousness, we’ll leave it up to her to decide when she needs more painkiller.

     “The middle bag is a blood thinner, to help prevent clotting and to move the blood through the veins easier.

     “The third bag is an antibiotic to prevent infections.

     “Will there be any lasting effects from her injuries?”

     “Well, as I said, her legs weren’t crushed as we initially thought, so her mobility shouldn’t be affected. She can certainly live without her gall bladder and appendix.

     “Her ribs and broken fingers should heal, as should her jaw.

     “The only thing we’re worried about at this point are her kidneys and her liver. If either of them fail, she’ll need follow-on medical care for life. If they recover and work as they’re designed to, then there’s no reason she can’t recover fully.”

     “So there’s no way we can get her to wake up so we can let her know we’re here for her? Not even for a minute, to raise her spirits?”

     “No. She wouldn’t still be sleeping if she didn’t need the rest. Let her decide on her own when it’s time to wake up. If you want her to know you were here, I’ll have the nurse bring you an extra pillow. You can all sign it with your well wishes, and it’ll make her smile when she wakes up.

     “And hey, even if she did wake up, she wouldn’t be able to talk to you. Her jaw is wired shut so that it heals properly, and she’s intubated to help her breathe. All she can give you is sign language, and if you ask her how she feels, that sign language may be rather blunt.

     “If you catch my drift.”

     He turned to Mark.

     “And by the way, she’ll be drinking through a straw and talking between gritted teeth for six weeks after she’s dismissed. Our nutritionist will give you some recipes for protein shakes and such. But expect her to lose a lot of weight. It’s normal and to be expected.”

     “She’s been talking about wanting to lose a few pounds, but this is a hell of a way to do it.”

Chapter 43

     Bryan stopped to catch his breath. He had no choice. His body just refused to move another step.

     But he was making good progress. He was confident that he was moving faster through the woods than Sarah would have. She would have taken her time, climbing over old broken branches and tree roots.

     She wouldn’t be in any hurry. Especially if she was lost and confused. She’d stop constantly and look around her, trying to get her bearings.

     Bryan, on the other hand, was jumping over the roots and shoving the branches out of his way. He slowed only occasionally to find a drop of Sarah’s blood, which told him he was still on the right path.

     The woods were very thick in these parts. There were three inches of pine needles beneath his feet, broken occasionally only by patches of rocky ground. It was on those rocks that the droplets were easier to spot.

     But although he was confident he was moving at a faster rate than Sarah had been, and would therefore eventually catch up with her, it was getting harder and harder to spot the blood drops.

     They were getting farther and farther between.

     He couldn’t complain. Wouldn’t complain. It meant that the bleeding was slowing and that, after all, was a very good thing.

     It was still relatively easy to follow the broken twigs and bent branches and…

     Damn!

     He looked down, disgusted.

     Against the side of a an ancient fir, once felled by lightning and laying on its side for twenty years or more, was a large twisted branch of a second tree that looked very familiar to Bryan.

     It looked familiar because he’d pushed it out of his way.

     An hour before.

     The first time he’d gone through there.

     “How in the hell…”

     All the wind suddenly left his sails. And he felt angry with himself.

     It’s not uncommon for people lost in the woods to circle back upon themselves. It’s very easy to do, as they wander about, looking for the path of least resistance.

     In this case, Sarah apparently veered to the left to go through a break in the brush. Then veered left again for another break.

     And again, and again.

     Eventually she found herself back on her original course.

     Sarah could be forgiven for traveling in a full circle and then retracing her own steps.

     Bryan, on the other hand, was an experienced woodsman.

     He should have known better.

     But he got in such a big hurry that he ignored the signs.

     And he lost at least an hour because of it.

     He lashed out, kicking the fallen tree trunk and jamming his toe in the process.

     He ignored the sharp pain. He deserved it, after all, and he’d deal with it later.

     Now he was doubly frustrated. Not only did he waste valuable time, but now he had to slow down. To examine the trail in front of him a lot more carefully.

     Somewhere out there was Sarah’s break… the point at which she broke free from the circle and went off in another direction.

     He had to move cautiously to find the break. If he missed it again, he’d go all the way back around the circle a second time.

     And waste even more time.

     He called her name for the thousandth time.

     “Sarah!”

     It was a truly agonizing sound, coming from a desperate man.

     He stopped to listen before going on.

     And he heard something.

     But it wasn’t his sweet Sarah.

     It was the unmistakable sound of a bloodhound baying.

     And it was no more than a quarter mile behind him.

     As opposed as he had been to waiting for the dog and its handler, there never was a sweeter sound to Bryan’s ears.

Chapter 44

     Bryan plodded along, staring off to his right, then his left.

     He stayed on the trail that had led him in the circle, and desperately searched each side for a broken branch, an overturned rock, a pine cone turned with its wet underbelly facing upward… a blood droplet…

     Anything that would indicate that this… this was the place where Sarah broke free from the circle and took another path.

     It was slow going for sure. And he knew that at this point he was probably falling behind Sarah. Unless she’d stopped to rest or to sleep, she was still likely progressing through the forest at her normal rate.

     Bryan had been forced to slow to what felt like a snail’s pace.

     But he had no choice. If he didn’t find her exit point, he’d go full circle a second time.

     And Sarah desperately needed him.

     He kept calling her name, and kept hearing the hound dog howl in response.

     The dog was getting closer every time.

     The dog had a distinct advantage.

     He didn’t have to look for clues, or markers, to tell him which way Sarah had gone.

     He merely followed her scent.

     Before long he heard the sounds of other men’s voices.

     The dog handler and other searchers.

     Finally, when the team was within fifty yards of him, Bryan stopped and waited.

     His heroic, or perhaps half-witted, effort to get a jump on the dog team was ill-fated. He’d failed. Now he’d do what he should have done in the first place, and let the dog do its job.

     The dog came into Bryan’s view first, his nose to the ground and his tail standing straight up. When he caught sight of Bryan, he lifted his nose just high enough to look at him, then went back to work.

     Duke was a good dog, dedicated to his craft.

     He went right past Bryan and kept going down the broken trail following Sarah’s scent.

     Until his handler let out a shrill whistle.

     To everyone else it was just a whistle. To Duke, though, it was a command to stop.

     Duke lay in the pine needles and rested.

     Captain Martin introduced Bryan to the handler, while the dog and everyone else stopped to catch their breath.

     “Ben Cates, this is Bryan Snyder, the husband.”

     The two shook hands.

     “Did you find anything, Bryan?”

     “I’ve been going in a circle. She doubled back at some point, and I’ve been looking for her break.”

     “Let old Duke take the lead. He’ll find it. When he comes to it he’ll stop and wait for a command. He won’t proceed past that point until I tell him which way to go.”

     Bryan was in no position to argue. Not when Sarah’s life might well be on the line.

     And he felt foolish, but even more than that he was furious with himself.