Chapter 775:
By the docks, Hattie waited. When she saw Rylie step out of the car, she rushed over with an umbrella. “Miss Owen!”
Rylie slipped under the cover, the sea wind slicing cold across the port. She pulled her jacket tighter. “Has Brad come back?”
Hattie’s face held grief. “The Admiral’s…”
“The ship is here. They’re unloading the bodies now. The mood is heavy.”
Rylie’s eyes darkened. “And the survivor?”
Hattie did not know how she had learned about that, but she gave a solemn nod. “Yes, there’s one. He’s the only witness who can tell what truly happened. His burns are terrible, half his body is ruined. They kept him alive in the medical bay until he was moved to the emergency room, but he won’t last long. If he dies, we lose the only evidence. The military has already chosen to keep the news quiet, to ease public fear and keep the situation from exploding.”
Rylie set aside her plan to see Brad first and turned toward the emergency wing. “Take me to the patient first.”
Hattie knew Rylie’s reputation as a skilled doctor and sensed that she might be the only one who could help Morgan secure vital evidence. Though she had no orders, she took the risk and led Rylie to the door.
The corridor outside reeked of disinfectant and blood. From inside came frantic commands and the sharp rhythm of monitors. When Hattie nudged the door open a sliver, a voice barked, “Unauthorized personnel are not allowed! The patient’s condition is critical!”
Rylie acted as though she had not heard. She stepped through the gap into the storm of motion. Doctors and nurses swarmed the operating table. The man on it was nearly unrecognizable. The left side of his body was ravaged, and the heart monitor flickered weakly, its line threatening to fall flat at any second.
At the table, a senior military doctor pressed hard against a wound too massive to contain. Blood seeped steadily through his gloves. Sweat streaked his brow as he called out, “It’s no use. Burns cover more than eighty percent of the body! He’s got deep burns, blast trauma, ruptured organs, and unstoppable bleeding. His blood pressure won’t hold—adrenaline, now!”
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Rylie’s voice cut through the din, calm and unwavering. “Let me examine him.”
The doctor looked up, ready to rebuke whoever had spoken, but the words caught in his throat when he recognized her face.
“You?”
“Rylie?”
“Maybe I can help.” Rylie spoke as her eyes swept over the patient’s mangled form, the erratic monitor readings, and the scattered tools and medicines within reach.
Recognition dawned on the lead doctor almost at once. She was the healer whispered about in every circle, the one even Rory held in esteem.
His irritation faded in an instant. “Go disinfect and change quickly. I’ll hold the line for you.”
Hopeless cases were her calling. Even faced with this wreck of a patient, she kept her composure, sliding into action with practiced ease.
Her precision left the military doctors stunned. More than once, they wished they had pens and paper to record every move. Against all odds, the man they had already given up on began to stir toward life. Blood pressure rose. Vital signs steadied beneath her hands.
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.
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