Chapter 5 - The Static
Georgia screamed in the dark.
The pain of the unanesthetized incision was like holding a blowtorch against her bare skin.
"Don't move!" Ruth yelled blindly.
The nurse held the scalpel steady in the pitch black, relying entirely on touch.
A moment later, thick, dark blood rushed over Ruth's gloved hands as the fascia released.
The unbearable pressure inside Georgia's leg vanished almost instantly.
Somebody in the crowd finally turned on a cell phone flashlight.
The pale beam swept across the barn, illuminating Ruth as she packed the deep surgical wound with sterile gauze.
"The pulse is back," Ruth announced, tying off a pressure bandage.
Georgia fell back onto the stretcher, her body slick with cold sweat.
Scott knelt beside her, reaching out to stroke her damp hair.
"You are so strong, baby," Scott whispered, trying to play the hero for the watching guests.
Georgia slapped his hand away with the last ounce of her strength.
"Do not ever touch me again," Georgia said.
Scott’s jaw tightened, his mask of concern slipping to reveal raw anger.
"I am trying to keep you alive," he hissed.
Before Georgia could answer, a sharp burst of static erupted from the radio clipped to Ruth's belt.
Everyone in the barn froze.
A voice cut through the white noise, frantic and broken.
"Mayday, Mayday, this is Chopper Seven."
It was the pilot who had flown away with Elise.
Scott snatched the radio from Ruth's belt and pressed the transmission button.
"This is Scott Hail, where are you?"
The pilot's voice was barely audible over the sound of screaming wind.
"We never made it out of the canyon," the pilot gasped.
May you like
"We are down on the eastern ridge."
"We crashed."
