Carolyn Jourdan - Nurse Phoebe 02 - The School for Mysteries Read online

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Ivy.

  Phoebe took a deep breath. “I don’t have the same kind of romantic motivation I used to have when I was younger. It may be partially hormonal. Post-menopause is such a relief. You don’t realize how much of your decision-making is affected by hormones until they go away.

  “Then, all of a sudden, it’s like you get your brain back, except it’s not back because you’ve never actually had it before. It’s more like you finally notice you have a brain in the first place. It makes you feel sorry for yourself, having been brainless for your whole life up until now without ever realizing it.

  “It’s not like I haven’t tried to participate in all the social norms. I’ve been dating for four decades now, that’s a bunch of guys. But from what I’ve seen romance is massively over-rated. It’s a dangerous delusion.”

  Ivy poked Phoebe with her elbow. “Come on,” she said.

  “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve learned from dating longer than you’ve been alive that friendship is real, but what’s commonly meant by the word romance isn’t,” Phoebe explained. “These days I’m looking for a friend, someone fun to travel with, or go to the movies or eat out with, but not a husband. I was never looking for a husband. I was always looking for a decent, reliable buddy.

  “You know the first people Dante ran into on his trip to hell were a romantic couple totally wrapped up in each other. They were locked in a whirlwind together. Dante fainted when he saw what they were reaping as a result of their so-called romance.”

  Phoebe knew Ivy was too young to care about things like this. She was still in thrall to youth, and that was understandable and right. But she’d asked, so Phoebe had given her something to think about.

  “Enough about men,” Phoebe said. “I have some really great news. I’ve been saved! I got a job this morning. It starts tomorrow. Just one patient and a whole lot of money.”

  She told Ivy about the phone call and her friend congratulated her. Then they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the view together. “You’re right,” Phoebe said. “This place really is paradise.

  Chapter 3

  The sound of wind rustling through the leaves was being progressively drowned out by a rhythmical thumping that was gaining volume. At first Phoebe thought it was the beating of her own heart. She wondered if it was palpitations or if she was about to have a panic attack from the height. Maybe the exertion of the climb was bringing on a heart attack. Then she realized it was a helicopter approaching. That was strange. She knew it wouldn’t be tourists because this area of the Smokies was famous for deadly wind shears. They were called orographic lifts, and they could be over a hundred miles an hour.

  It was a local phenomenon caused by the Smokies being the first major windbreak between the Atlantic Ocean and the rest of the country. So many aircraft had crashed because of these notorious winds, authorities were extremely reluctant to send any air rescue to the area, even in the most dire emergencies. There was no point in adding to the body count.

  Injured people were frequently airlifted from other areas of the National Park and taken to a hospital in Knoxville. It was much faster than an ambulance on account of the distance and the dense, slow-moving traffic that surrounded the nation’s top family vacation destination. More than nine million tourists a year visited the Park. That made for hideous traffic.

  The helicopter sound was getting very loud. The two women couldn’t help but look up even though the dense vegetation meant they’d get a quick glimpse at most, and that only if the chopper passed directly overhead. But then suddenly, there it was.

  Before Phoebe could even register what she was seeing, a large pale form flashed into her field of vision, fell toward her, and hit the net she and Ivy were sitting on with a powerful impact.

  She reflexively grabbed Ivy’s arm to help keep her balance as the platform recoiled like a trampoline. The two women were able to keep their seats, but just barely. They turned together to look behind them and were astonished at the figure that lay there, splayed out. It was the body of a man, naked, lying face up, draped bonelessly across the rope netting.

  Had the body blown out of a stretcher mounted on the side of the helicopter?

  Had it fallen out of the helicopter itself?

  Ivy was immediately on her feet. She glanced at Phoebe and said, “Did you see that? It looked almost like those guys threw him out the door of that helicopter!”

  No, Phoebe hadn’t seen it, but her eyes weren’t that good anymore. Her focal length no longer transitioned smoothly. She needed at least four pairs of glasses to make it these days—reading, computing, driving, and sunglasses. She didn’t have any lenses for viewing low-flying aircraft.

  But rather than heading toward the body, Ivy moved even farther away from it. As gracefully as an acrobat, she walked along the network of ropes until she was as far away as she could possibly get. She stood against a tree trunk, staring at the dead man in horror. She’d never seen a dead body before.

  Phoebe was a bit surprised that Ivy wouldn’t try to render assistance, but fear of a body was common. Most people moved away from death or trouble. Fortunately people like doctors, soldiers, policemen, and firefighters tended to have the opposite impulse.

  Phoebe looked at the body and noted that the man’s face was still a healthy pink. He hadn’t been dead long. Then the corpse coughed.

  Oh God, she thought, he’s not quite dead. Yet.

  Phoebe recognized the sound for what it was and began an awkward crawl across the net toward the man. He was vomiting while lying on his back. He was choking. She made it to the middle of the net and shoved him over onto his side so he wouldn’t drown in his own vomit.

  The two men standing in the open doorway of the helicopter exchanged surprised looks and spoke to each other via their helmet microphones at the same time. One said, “What was that?” and the other, “Did you see that?”

  The taller man wore a harness with a tether connected to a hook in the ceiling of the chopper. He leaned out as far as he could and scanned the forest below them.

  “I saw something,” said the tall guy. “It could’ve been a person.”

  “There was some sort of tree stand,” said the other man, “I couldn’t tell what it was.”

  “Do you think someone saw us?” said the tall man.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  The shorter fellow instructed the pilot to turn around immediately and retrace his route. Both men grabbed handholds to keep from falling out the door as the chopper tilted and wheeled around.

  Phoebe had no idea what condition the man was in. He had to have been injured, but his color was decent and he was still warm. She felt for a pulse. It was sky high, but that was understandable. He’d just endured a free fall without the benefit of a parachute or even a pair of boxer shorts.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked in a gentle voice.

  He moaned.

  “You’ve had an accident,” she said, “but you’re safe now.”

  His eyes fluttered open. His pupils looked good. They were even and reactive to light. She could tell he was trying to focus on her, but was having trouble. She held up two fingers and said, “Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?”

  His eyes closed and he didn’t respond.

  When he started retching again, Phoebe steadied him, keeping him on his side. She had no way of knowing if he had any broken bones or internal injuries, but the vomiting was ominous. He might’ve damaged something in his abdomen or hurt his head.

  “It’s okay now,” she lied, “Everything will be okay now. I’ve gotcha.”

  The sound of the helicopter started getting louder again. It must be coming back.

  The man was mumbling. Phoebe leaned close to try to hear what he was saying. His d
eep throated growl was hard to understand but it sounded like, “Not them again.”

  Suddenly the chopper was overhead, and this time it stayed there for several seconds, hovering. Two men wearing helmets, black jumpsuits, and heavy black boots were standing in the open door looking down at Phoebe and her new patient. They were right out in the middle of the rope platform in plain sight. Ivy was still standing with her back against the tree trunk, which meant she was well hidden from above.

  The fallen man recoiled in terror against the wind being whipped up by the helicopter blades. The men in the chopper had to be able to see that he was moving under his own power. Phoebe squinted up through the flying bits of leaves and her lashing hair and wondered if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

  The wind was buffeting the chopper. It was gusting and shoving it hard toward the ridge and into the tops of the trees. The pilot couldn’t hold their position for more than a few seconds before he was forced to move away from the wall of mountains.

  But they’d seen enough. Loose ends would have to be dealt with, pronto.

  Chapter 4

  The helicopter noise faded and this time it didn’t come back.

  Phoebe’s vision wasn’t great, but she’d seen enough to confirm that the helicopter wasn’t one of the types used for medical rescue. It wasn’t rigged with a basket on the side for transport of a body, either. This wasn’t adding up.

  “That was super-weird,” Ivy said, “Those guys didn’t wave or anything. They just looked.”

  The man mumbled again, still keeping his eyes closed tightly, but this time he was easier to understand. He said, “Uh oh.”

  The guy really had a knack for hitting the nail on the head. He was a man of few words, but every one of them was right on target.

  Phoebe was getting a cramp from kneeling on the ropes. She needed to change position. “I’m gonna lay you over on your stomach for just a second,” she said. His eyelids fluttered open just as she rolled him facedown.

  “Oh God!” he gasped, and flailed his arms and legs wildly. Then he screamed.

  Phoebe threw herself across him to keep him from thrashing and flinging himself off the edge of the platform in his frenzy. “Stop that!” Phoebe barked. “Stop it right now!”

  “It’s not over,” he moaned. “I’m still falling!”

  “Close your eyes,” Phoebe said in her most authoritative voice. “You are not falling.”

  “Uhhhh,” he groaned, but he closed his eyes, then whispered, “That’s better.”

  Ivy and Phoebe exchanged concerned looks.

  After a couple of minutes his breathing became more regular and, he asked in a husky voice, “Am I dead?”

  “No,” said Phoebe. “I’m gonna get off you now. I need you to roll back up onto your side when I do that, okay? Keep your eyes closed and just roll onto your side. I’ll help you. Don’t try to go anywhere else.”

  When she lifted herself off him he made an ungentlemanly grunt like she weighed a ton. She held him in a firm grip and leaned in close to check his pupils, as she said, “I need to take a quick look at your eyes. Hold still.”

  When she pried open one of his eyelids he looked up into Phoebe’s face at nearly point blank range, and shouted, “Oh God, I’m in Hell!”

  Phoebe was used to verbal abuse from patients. She knew people weren’t at their best when they were sick, scared, in pain, or heavily medicated, but Ivy was shocked and wouldn’t stand for this stranger insulting her friend.

  “Hey, buddy, watch your mouth. We’re trying to help you,” Ivy said, pulling off her fleece jacket and tossing it toward his private parts. “And cover up, you’re not exactly Chippendales material yourself.”

  Phoebe snorted. She didn’t mind his outburst. Some people were just bad patients. No matter what you did for them they were cranky and a pain in the ass to deal with. This fellow was obviously one of those.

  “I’ve heard of people getting bumped from a flight,” Ivy said, still miffed at him, “but you just took it to a whole new level.”

  That made him cough and sputter in what might have been a laugh.

  “If you keep you eyes closed it’ll help you stay calm,” Phoebe said. The height was scaring her, too. “We’ll figure out a way to get you down.”

  “Who are you people?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Who are you?” Ivy demanded.

  He mumbled, “I asked first.”

  As the helicopter left the mountains, the shorter of the two men said, “The boss isn’t gonna like this.”

  “What say we clean up the mess ourselves and not mention it to him?”

  “Agreed,” he said. No one would ever want to have to admit a mistake to the man they knew only as the Gryphon.

  They radioed their associates, described the situation, requested emergency ground-based assistance, and relayed the precise GPS coordinates of the body drop.

  “Yeah, retrieval and secure disposal,” the tall guy said, “Of the target and any and all subjects in the area. We have a female witness.”

  He listened to the response, then said, “Thanks. I owe you one,” before terminating the connection.

  What a crazy day. It had started out as a typical job. They’d snatched some geek from his basement in Cleveland, cleaned the place, and torched it. Then they’d taken him five hundred miles south, stripped him of all identification, and tossed him out of the chopper to kill him and get rid of the body in one fell swoop, so to speak. Why do the extra labor of burying some schmuck if you didn’t have to?

  And then what? The guy didn’t die from the fall! How had that happened?

  Things were really crazy when you couldn’t even toss a guy out in mid-air and be sure he’d end up dead. It made no sense. Somehow they’d thrown the nerd out onto the few square feet he could’ve landed on that wouldn’t have killed him outright.

  That was some freakin guardian angel he had.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you saying that he didn’t fall? That this wasn’t an accident?” Phoebe asked.

  “I don’t think it was,” Ivy said.

  “You think they threw him out? Of a helicopter?”

  Ivy nodded reluctantly.

  “Why?”

  Ivy shrugged. “Where are his clothes?”

  Phoebe looked down at him to confirm the absence of clothing. She was so used to working with people in various states of undress that she hadn’t thought about it. “I’ve read that in air disasters, when people fall from a great height, their clothes, even their underwear, usually get blown off during the fall. But, I don’t think he fell far enough for that to have happened.”

  “Maybe he’s a terrorist or a criminal who’d just been arrested and strip-searched,” Ivy said. “Or if they’re bad guys, they could’ve been trying to remove any identification before killing him. They always do that on the television shows.”

  The women looked at him. “Or maybe he just pissed somebody off. Who knows?”

  “He knows,” Phoebe said.

  He shook his head slowly, denying it.

  “Do you think they saw us?” Phoebe asked.

  “I think they must’ve seen something right after they tossed him out,” Ivy said, “and then, when they came back, they saw you both. I doubt if they saw me, though.”

  “Do you think they figured out that he’s not dead?”

  “He was obviously moving, so they’ve got to be worried that he’s still alive.”

  “Do you think they’ll come after us?”

  “If they’re good people, they’ll come back to help him. If they’re bad guys they apparently want him dead and I doubt they want any witnesses. So it’s not just him they’re after now. It doesn’t seem likely that they’d just give up. People who hav
e the resources to use a helicopter are professionals. I think all three of us better get outta here as quick as we can.”

  Neither of them said anything, but the two women looked at the stranger, wondering what they could do with him.

  “Oh don’t worry about me,” he said, in a sarcastic tone, “I’ll be fine.”

  “I might be able to get him down using your harness,” said Ivy. “But I’m not sure. He might be too heavy for me to handle.”

  “I don’t know if we can move him out of here in a harness without seriously exacerbating his injuries,” Phoebe said.

  “If we leave him, his injuries are going to get exacerbated at lot more. Let’s go get Leon,” Ivy suggested. “He can get him down.”

  Phoebe thought about it and nodded in agreement. Leon was Ivy’s boyfriend and he taught climbing at Cloud Forest, the local posh resort.

  Ivy walked toward the edge of the platform and said, “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll stay here with our mystery man,” Phoebe said. “It’s not safe to leave him up here alone.”

  “It’s not safe for you to stay here with him, either, but I know better than to argue with you,” Ivy said. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  She checked her gear then stepped off the platform and zipped down toward the ground so fast it made Phoebe dizzy. Ivy was burning a rope as the climbers called it when their descent was so fast the friction of the equipment heated the rope enough to melt it, not to mention what it did to a glove—and the hand inside it.

  The second her feet touched the ground Ivy stepped out of her harness and took off running through the forest toward her car.

  Phoebe crawled to the man’s feet and began a careful examination of her patient. She straightened his legs, put his ankles together, and checked to see that both legs were the same length and that neither foot rotated outwards more than normal. They looked fine, so he hadn’t broken a hip. She felt along the big bone in each of his lower legs to make sure he hadn’t broken a tibia.