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The helicopter landed in the meadow. Paramedics rushed in. Rowan had already triaged her. She was alive, battered and bruised, but in poor condition. Her pulse was thready. She was in shock. Rowan helped them get her into the Stokes basket, falling in behind them. “Sorry. No civilians.”
Rowan protested. “I’m a medic. Was a medic ... in the twenty-third med-evac. Three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Please, she’s my girlfriend. You have to let me go.”
He wasn’t sure what part had been his ticket, but it worked. One of the flight crew handed him a set of headphones as he took the jump seat behind the pilot. When asked, he did his best to explain what had happened, without mentioning the creature he was certain he had seen. As the chopper lifted off, he found his gaze returning to the spot in the meadow where he’d seen it. Nothing but blank snow remained.
* * *
“Welcome to the Madigan Army Medical Center,” a voice over said the com an hour later. “This is the top trauma center in the region.”
“Why didn’t we go to Seattle?”
“We had orders,” a voice squawked in his headphones.
Rowan was reminded of his days as a paramedic in Estes Park, Colorado, when he found it common to get strange calls from the Stanley Hotel. The hotel had inspired Steven King to write The Shining. Rumor was, the hotel was haunted. It always gave him the creeps.
One time, a group of paranormal researchers filming a television show at the Stanley ran into some trouble. Someone was hurt.
His partner laughed when they got the call but the look on everyone’s faces when they arrived told him they’d experienced something that none of them could explain. For them, it was very real.
Their lead investigator had been pushed down the narrow staircase and had landed at an awkward angle, her leg broken badly. It was so bad no one had dared move her.
“I’m going to go ahead and start an IV and get you some morphine.” Rowan spoke in a soft voice. He was trying to calm her. She was in tears as he cut up the leg of her jeans, finding a compound fracture where the bone stuck out. Her color was sallow. “I won’t move you until the morphine kicks in. Then I’m going to stabilize your leg and get you onto a back board. I’ll have to put you in a collar, just until we’re sure your neck isn’t injured.”
“Please.” Lauren shivered, her teeth chattering. “Just hurry ...”
“That’s what all the ladies say,” he flashed a smile. She laughed, then winced in pain. “You’ve still got your sense of humor. That’s a good sign. You’re going to be all right.”
“Promise?” She looked at him with those piercing dark eyes.
“I promise.” He took her hand and folded it over his.
“That’s what all the men say.” Lauren winced, a pained cry escaping her lips.
“I’m not most men,” he said. “Let’s see about getting you out of here.”
Lauren later told him it wasn’t his dimples, his bright smile, or even his charming bedside manner that had won her heart that night, but those deep-set green eyes. He had made her feel safe, and not quite so scared anymore.
Now he felt helpless, and he hated it. Despite his medical training, he could do nothing but sit and watch as the ER team worked on her. They had confirmed that her shoulder was dislocated and were studying the x-rays on a light board as he watched through the window. He knew they were discussing their strategy for resetting it, until they noticed the spiral fracture in her humerus.
He’d only seen a fracture like that once in his career. When he was in basic training, his unit had a couple of recruits that had played college baseball. They challenged another unit to a friendly game one hot afternoon outside of Bagdad. His buddy had a mean pitching arm and had thrown a wild screwball with such force that he’d broken the bone in his upper arm, just like Lauren’s was broken now.
One of the doctors glanced up from the chart and looked at Rowan. He looked familiar and the same sense of recognition passed over his face. He came out into the hallway.
“Pierce?” He asked. “Lt. Bennett McGuinness. Do you remember me?”
“Ben?” Rowan recognized the man from basic training. “Ben McGuinness! God! Yeah! It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah it has,” he said, shaking his hand vigorously. “I watch your show. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”
“How’s Lauren?”
Ben glanced over his shoulder, his friendly countenance turning sober. “Someone’s beaten the hell out of her,” he said. “She has a couple of bruised ribs and her arm nearly got ripped off. Other than that, she’s lucky to be alive. Who sewed her head up anyway?”
“That was me,” Rowen said. “Is she going to make it?” He blanched, and Ben caught his arm, steadying him.
“She’s in bad shape, but she’s not that bad off,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you like that.” Ben studied him for a moment. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
Rowan followed the doctor into the exam room, his fingers brushing along the old scar on Lauren’s bared leg as he passed. Ben turned to his patient. He lifted her arm and turned it enough for Rowan to see the bruise that spread from elbow to wrist. It was dark, angry and the exact shape of a massively large hand.
“This is a classic example of an injury we see in abused children.”
Rowan wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out. He forced himself to stay conscious as he studied the bruises on her arm and face.
“Whatever happened, she put up one hell of a fight.”
Rowan rubbed his face.
“I need to know who did this. I have to file a report. It’s standard procedure when we see signs of abuse.”
“Not who,” Rowan said. His eyes were fixed on her. “What.”
“What do you mean?” Ben knitted his brow.
“You’re never going to believe it, even if I tell you.”
Ben locked eyes with him. “Is there something I need to know? Are you and this woman involved? Did you ...?”
“No. Ben, I would never!” Rowan realized what he was implying. “I guess you haven’t been watching the news the past week or so.”
“I’ve been on call for the past week.”
“We better get a cup of coffee. It’s a long story.”
“Condense it for me.” Ben folded his arms over his chest.
“It wasn’t someone who did that to Lauren,” Rowan said. He laughed, tears welling in his eyes at the same moment. “I’m still not so sure what it was. I can tell you what I think it was.”
“What the hell was it then, Rowan?”
“Bigfoot,” he said. “It was a Bigfoot. Okay?”
“Oh Jeez, Rowan! Is that the best you can do?” Ben scoffed, his brow furrowing even deeper.
“You have to believe me. You said you watched my show.”
“I don’t get to watch it all that much.” Ben softened his gaze. “But I know you, Rowan. I know your character. I’m just having a hard time buying into the whole Sasquatch business.”
“At the moment, so am I.”
* * *
While Lauren was in surgery they sat down and Rowan told Ben the whole story, from start to finish. He was finally able to convince the doctor he hadn’t gone completely insane. Their search for the truth had led them to an even greater mystery, one only Lauren could answer now. Where had she been for the past ten days?
“This has to be a hoax. Someone’s playing you, at her expense,” Ben said. “Her injuries could just as easily have been caused by a man. The Bigfoot legend has persisted for centuries, but there have been more documented hoaxes than rational explanation. Everyone likes a good monster story.”
“I saw something I can’t explain. Without further proof, I’m inclined to believe it was a hoax, provisionally,” Rowan said.
“You just said it yourself though. You don’t have any proof.”
“Not yet,” Rowan said. “But the truth is out there, and I intend to find it.”
“Oh, now you sound like Mulder on the X-Files.” Ben shook his head.
“That’s not the first time someone’s said that to me.” Rowan sniffed. “Meanwhile, Lauren’s upstairs fighting for her life. I can’t let this all be in vain.” He crushed his empty coffee cup in his trembling hand. “I owe her that much.”