Trapped. Beverly Long

a small incision on Angus’s leg. The young copilot jerked and moaned but kept his leg fairly still.

      Then, using his hands, Brody pressed on the protruding bone and eased it back inside the leg. He was concentrating fiercely and she knew that he was trying to align the two sections of snapped bone so that healing could begin.

      “It’s going fine,” he said, smiling at Angus.

      The young man nodded and closed his eyes.

      She’d always assumed that Dr. Donovan would have a good bedside manner. So confident, so smart. So calm.

      Once Brody seemed satisfied with the position of the bone, he looked up at her. “Wipe off the needle and the thread with the antiseptic wipes.”

      She did as instructed and then handed him the needle.

      “Thank you,” he said automatically. “I need you to gently press the edges of the wound together while I stitch it up.” That part seemed to go relatively well. The stitches closing up the incision were a nice straight line. When he got to the torn jagged edges of skin where the bone had poked through, they weren’t quite as pretty.

      Still, Brody looked satisfied when he put the needle back down on the newspaper. The wound was closed and the bleeding had stopped. He opened the tube of antibacterial cream and spread a liberal amount over the whole area. Then it was a bandage and some tightly wrapped gauze.

      Brody took off his gloves and dropped them on the newspaper, then patted Angus’s shoulder. “All done.”

      “Thank you,” the young man whispered.

      Elle didn’t need a medical degree to know that she’d just witnessed something amazing.

      “Now what?” she asked.

      “I need to find something to immobilize the leg, to give the bones a chance to knit together.”

      His gaze settled on Mrs. Hardy’s dark suitcase. It was still open from when he’d gone looking for the knife. The suitcase was a roller, with a nice sturdy handle. He ran a hand down the back of the suitcase before he looked up at Mrs. Hardy, who had been watching the entire process with Angus. “I might be able to use this,” he said.

      “Take what you need out of it,” Mrs. Hardy said.

      “It’s not quite that easy,” he said. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to need to tear the bag apart. I can use the two rods that connect to the handle.”

      Mrs. Hardy shrugged as if to say that she and her husband had survived a plane crash and she didn’t intend to sweat the small stuff.

      Brody used Mrs. Hardy’s knife to cut through the fabric, exposing the rods. Elle wasn’t an expert, but they looked perfect. At least twenty inches long with a plate that attached them at the bottom. There were screws that connected the plate to the wheel assembly and another set of screws that fixed the rods to the handle.

      Elle leaned toward the young pilot. “Angus,” she said softly, “do you have any tools on board, like a screwdriver?”

      “No, I don’t think so.”

      Brody was already using the end of the knife to turn the screws. It was slow going, but he was making progress. Finally, the rods were loose. He looked up. “I need some strips of cloth.”

      “I’ve got T-shirts in my bag, young man,” Mr. Hardy said. He pointed to a small bag that matched Mrs. Hardy’s. It had somehow ended up near the front of the plane.

      Brody opened the suitcase and pulled out several white T-shirts. He cut one into strips and used two more to wrap around the metal rods.

      Then he put the padded rods in place, one of each side of Angus’s leg. The metal plate at the end of the rods fit underneath Angus’s foot.

      Then Brody efficiently used the strips of T-shirt to tie everything tight. When he finally sat back to inspect his work, Elle could tell that he was pleased. He patted Angus’s shoulder. “We’re going to help you get up. You can take a seat in that last row so that you can keep your leg extended straight.”

      It was awkward, but between the two of them, they managed to get Angus up from the floor and onto a seat. There were beads of sweat running down the young man’s face by the time they were finished.

      “Thanks, Doc,” he said.

      “You’re welcome,” Brody said, smiling.

      “I’m worried about Captain Ramano,” Angus said. “I don’t think he’s doing so good.”

      “Don’t worry,” Brody assured him. “I’m going to check him next. First I’m going to elevate your leg a little. Just stay still.” He grabbed several magazines that were lying around, stacked them and slid them under Angus’s foot. Then he pulled a small foil-wrapped package of ibuprofen out of the first-aid kit. “Take a couple of these. It will help with the discomfort.”

      Elle reached for her backpack and pulled out a bottle of water that she’d bought at the airport after she got through security. She handed it to Angus.

      Angus braced himself up on one elbow and took a big drink.

      “Better save some of that for later,” Brody cautioned.

      The passengers all looked at each other. They heard the unspoken warning. We may be here awhile and we don’t want to run out of water.

      Pamela stepped forward. “Someone needs to be in charge of supplies. I’ll do it.”

      Everyone was looking at Brody. He’d become the leader of the group, whether he wanted the post or not. “That’s a good idea, Pamela,” he said. “I suggest everybody throw in what you’ve got in your bags and we’ll take an inventory. Just in case,” he added.

      Rather optimistically, Elle thought. She’d been living in this part of the world for several years. Planes didn’t frequently crash in the jungle, but when they did, sometimes it took weeks to find the wreckage.

      “I’m going to stitch up Captain Ramano’s head wound,” Brody said.

      Elle swallowed hard. She’d gotten a look at that cut. “Do you need help?” she forced herself to ask.

      Brody shook his head. “I’ll manage,” he said. “Do you think you could clean up Mrs. Hardy’s cut on her face?”

      She was getting the better end of the deal. “Of course.”

      “If there’s any glass, leave it and I’ll remove it,” he said.

      Elle didn’t see any glass or anything else in Mrs. Hardy’s cut. She cleaned it with an antiseptic wipe, smeared antibiotic cream on it and covered it with a small bandage. She could handle this kind of first aid. There was always some kid at the school getting a scraped knee or a skinned elbow.

      She was almost done when Mrs. Hardy turned her head to look at her. “Do you and Dr. Donovan know each other?”

      “Uh...why do you ask?”

      “Well, I don’t mean to be a meddling old lady, but I heard what he said. He didn’t sound very happy to see you. And you looked very surprised to see him.”

      “We knew each other a long time ago. It’s been thirteen years since we saw each other.”

      “Did you work together?”

      “No. We were...” Friends. Lovers. For a minute, she considered lying about it. But she’d stopped running from the truth some time ago. “We were engaged,” she said. “And I broke off the engagement.”

      “Gracious.”

      Indeed. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep that information to yourself,” Elle said. “We’ve got our hands full here and I don’t want it to be a distraction.”

      Mrs. Hardy nodded. “It’s not easy to be young,” she said.

      She