CHAPTER TWO
30 minutes earlier
“Damn this rain.” Casey Adams scowled from her perch on the wooden bench propped conveniently just below the ski lift’s ramp. Trees resembling damp, half closed umbrellas trembled around her, spraying rain and ice chips on her half frozen body. She pulled back the sleeve of her jacket to check her watch for the 4th time in as many minutes. Shift was over at 5 and today it couldn’t come fast enough, unfortunately time currently seemed to be moving backwards.
In the uniform of the Volunteer Ski Patrol with her bright blue first aid pack attached around her waist, her fuzzy yellow toque pulled down low over her copper curls and the hand knit green scarf her sister had made for her last Christmas wrapped tightly around her slender neck, she looking more like a colourful, shapeless, extremely wet, scarecrow than a woman. But womanly was not something she was aiming to be. Professional, competent…. even just warm was more important right now.
Casey wiggled her cold, damp rear-end further back on the seat as she tried to gain some protection from the overhang of the lift station’s eaves and glared disgustedly out at the foggy, white, waterlogged world around her. The unceasing rain pounded at her body, blocking her vision. She could barely make out the next chair coming up the lift let alone tell how many more stupid…she caught the thought, feeling contrite…..not stupid, devoted, determined….maybe a bit desperate, she amended silently, skiers there were after that.
She watched a lone middle aged, rotund woman wrapped head to toe in black garbage bags slip awkwardly from the next chair and splash through the slushy puddles to the top of the green run. The woman took off her scarf, squeezing it to wring out the rain water it had soaked up like a sponge, and retied it around her neck. Maybe stupid was more accurate after all.
Roberta McAdam, her fellow patroller, didn’t look much better as she appeared through the fog. She hopped down from the ski lift chair and half skied, half walked over to join Casey.
“Glamorous job we have, eh?” Casey asked as Roberta hopped up on the bench next to her.
Roberta propped her skis up so the tails were in the snow and her legs were sticking straight out as if on a footrest, and looked at Casey like she’d lost her mind. “Yeah, that’s just what I was thinking.” Her smile turned into a laugh as she caught Casey’s eye.
“Ok, maybe this isn't quite Whistler, or the Alps.” Casey conceded with a smile.
Roberta took off her red toque and twisted about a cupful of water out of it on the ground at her feet. “Maybe not,” she agreed as she pulled the soaked hat back over her frizzy auburn curls. Their combined laughter brightened the atmosphere for a brief moment.
A lot of Casey’s friends assumed she spent the day saving lives and helping people in danger, but that was only part of it and a small part at that. The rest of the time was usually spent moving boundary lines, cleaning up, helping with security and safety, as she was doing right now, or occasionally even cutting avalanches– a potentially dangerous job that involved skiing across the edge of a cliff that was expected to turn unstable and causing the avalanche to discharge. The logic being that it would release when the build up of snow was still relatively small and could be controlled, as opposed to allowing it the opportunity to catch an unwary skier in its path when it released on its own.
It was true that everything she did contributed to the overall safety of the mountain and it could be fun, even exciting, but glamorous? Not a chance. But she wouldn't change anything about it, even if she could.
Casey watched the skiers descend one by one. “Were you out moving the boundary lines on the Pinnacle peak?” she asked absently. “I heard the snow is melting pretty quickly over that way.”
“Yeah,” Roberta said. She too had her attention on the kids sliding through the slush. “It’s melting fast on the southern slopes so we’ve had to put more warning makers everywhere and close off a few of the smaller runs. There’s a lot of mud now.”
Casey grunted, “I’m not surprised”, she said. “I still can’t believe how many people still ski in this weather.” She shook her head. “Back East they wouldn’t dream of hitting the slopes in these conditions.”
“That’s only because rain would turn all that ice into a skating rink.”
Casey laughed, “You might be right.”
“Ooh, look at that!” Roberta whistled softly and nudged Casey with her shoulder. “He sure is a purty one.” She drawled.
“Purty” didn’t begin to cover it. But Casey nodded anyway as the man, clad head to toe in black Gore-Tex, jumped effortlessly down from the chair and then waited patiently for two small girls in the chair behind him. Once they were off safely he guided them down the ramp. He was tall, well over 6 feet; and ruggedly handsome. He moved like a dancer, strong and fluid, and made skiing in the slush look easy.
“He has muscles.” Roberta voiced the conclusion Casey had just come to as she watched him move through the heavy snow as if it wasn’t there at all.
“Yes, he does.” She drawled. They watched for a few more minutes as the dark stranger waited until the two girls were safely on their way down the beginner run and then skied over to the top of #4 and hopped down the double diamond mogul run.
“Now he’s someone I wouldn’t mind getting in my toboggan.” Roberta referred to the rescue toboggan she was responsible for piloting.
“How is it that you can make even that sound dirty?” Casey laughed at her friend. “And let’s not wish for accidents. I’m heading straight down to the chalet when we finish up here for some hot chocolate. I’d rather not do it by way of the first aid hut.”
"Mmmm, chocolate.” Roberta turned from her contemplation of the area where the man had disappeared. “That does sound heavenly.”
“Yes, it does,” Casey agreed. “Now stop bugging me, I have a job to do."
"Son of A….!” Casey broke off the curse she was afraid was going to be too colourful for the family friendly face of the mountain, and scowled as a frigid stream of water found its way down the back of her neck. She pulled the green wool scarf a little tighter around her throat. Her sister picked the colour because she thought it matched her eyes. Casey had been too polite to argue but there was no way her eyes were drab olive green. Bright forest, or a relaxing seafoam maybe, but olive? not a chance.
“You guys OK out there?” Like a curious gopher, Gerry poked his blond dreadlocked head out of the lift hut door. Even shouting to be heard over the deafening wind as he was, Casey could barely make out his words.
“As OK as any idiot sitting in the rain in the middle of the winter,” Casey shouted back at the concerned lift operator, her attention still on the batch of skiers sliding off the lift. No falls so far. Knock on wood, or ice.
“Why don’t you come in and warm yourself up for a few minutes?” Casey managed to piece together from Gerry’s next round of mumbled noises.
“Absolutely.” Roberta smiled back at him and hopped up to click out of her skis.
“Traitor,” Casey shot her a mock angry glare and got a smile and perky wave in response. She watched as Roberta climbed awkwardly up the ramp between descending skiers.
“You coming, Casey?” Gerry called as he slid to one side to allow Roberta room to enter the narrow doorway to the control booth.
“Nah, thanks anyway, there’s only a few minutes left to my shift up here.” She turned to face the open doorway, “I’m afraid if I warm up, I may never want to come back out again.” Casey yelled back, and flashed a warm smile at him. Quite a feat considering the rest of her body resembled a sodden block of ice.
Gerry smiled back. “If you say so.” The wind suddenly died down to a dull roar. He wiped a drop of rain from his cheek and continued in a more normal tone. “I just spoke to the lower lift and chair number 22 will be the last skier. We’re shutting this top lift down early tonight.” He shrugged expressively. “I guess they finally decided the weather was too bad to keep us open.”
C
asey slanted him a sardonic glance and waved in acknowledgment.
“Figures!” She muttered under her breath. "My shift up here is supposed to end in 5 minutes anyway." She wiped a long spray of water off the yellow sleeve of her jacket.
“That’s management for you.” Gerry saluted cockily and disappeared back inside. Roberta waved cheekily from her warm, dry seat. Casey was tempted to give her the finger but decided it was a bit too rude a gesture around so many kids, so resigned herself to sticking her tongue out at her. Childish? Yes, but it was better than nothing.
Casey sighed heavily, her breath exploding from her mouth like a mini thunder cloud, and turned back to watch yet another batch of skiers descend from the once truly olive green, now more of a rusty green, chair lift. Two at a time, like brightly coloured soldiers, they slid down the ramp. Some confidently, others with concern on their faces, they all shared a common goal… a safe and fun return to the bottom of the hill. Why they felt they needed to do it on a day like today though, was beyond Casey.
She shivered as her scarf loosened, once again allowing the biting wind access to her tender skin.
Her mood lightened a little as she noticed that the little red haired girl covered head to knee in a black plastic garbage bag with arms cut out for her head and arms was approaching the ramp on chair 4, which meant that number 22 should be coming along soon. Now if they would all just get off the lift and down the hill safely….
She could almost taste the hot chocolate: thick and creamy it would melt in her mouth and tingle her taste buds. Its heat would warm her body slowly as each sip coursed through her chilled veins. Maybe she could spike it with just a tiny bit of something stronger…Yum.
Wrapped up in her chocolate fantasies, she almost missed the little girl slide out of control at the bottom of the ramp.
Reacting quickly, Casey pointed her skis in the little girl’s direction and jumped down from her perch. The snow made a wet sloshing noise as her skis made contact, and stuck.
“For crying out loud, this is ridiculous.” She shook her head in exasperation and half walked-half skied over to where the girl was teetering uncertainly. Steadying the girl with one hand, Casey steered her out of harm’s way.
“You OK?” Casey bent down to the girl’s level and peered into her face. Sometimes kids didn’t always tell you if they hurt, but they couldn't disguise the pain in their expressions.
From the look of her she seemed to be fine. Thankfully. What kind of parent would bring their child out on a day like this anyway?
“I’m good. Thanks.” The girl confirmed. She was a bit older than she first appeared, probably closer to a teenager than a child.
“Well, just be careful heading down,” Casey warned. “The runs are turning into sticky messes with all the rain.” She grimaced at the thought of the potential accidents these conditions could cause. “This lift is closed for the day so keep heading to the bottom. The lower lift should be open until normal closing time.”
“Sure. See ya.” The girl skied away with all the energy of the very young. Exuberant and unafraid she bounced through the top of the mogul field, her style exhibiting more enthusiasm than ability, but even the horrible conditions didn’t seem to faze her.
Casey shook her head and trudged back up to her perch by the lift hut. It was a wonder more of the kids didn’t end up as accident victims, so many of them were such daredevils, taking risks, fearing nothing. Oh sure, they saw a few of them through the infirmary over the course of the day, but by the next morning they were right back at it again.
Their overly cautious parents, on the other hand, weren’t always so lucky.
Turning awkwardly, Casey jumped up, propped the ends of her skis in the snow and wiggled back onto her perch once again. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the number on the chair just swinging past the lift station and brightened. “Only eleven more chairs to go,” she cheered, “then, chocolate.” Casey sighed happily, then scowled and shivered as another raindrop found its way into her collar.
No more than ten minutes later the last skier finally descended the ramp.
Once again leaving the relative comfort of her perch, Casey skied over to the woman as she prepared for her descent and gave her the same warning she had given everyone else in the last few minutes. “Hi, my name’s Casey. I’m a member of the volunteer ski patrol. This lift is closing for the evening so when you get to the bottom of the run please turn right and head directly to the bottom instead of towards the chair again. Otherwise you will have to hike back up to where the other trail branches off, and that would be a real pain.” She smiled to show she sympathized with the woman if she really had wanted to continue to ski up here. And from many years of practice used her expression to convey the sense that she was just doing her job.
Thankfully the woman didn’t take offence the way some of the younger skiers did. She just smiled her thanks and slid, somewhat uncertainly, down the intermediate slope.
Casey turned back to the hut. “Time to clean up!” She yelled up to Gerry, still snug in his warm shack.
One long arm sporting a thumb’s up sign was thrust out the doorway and then quickly returned to the warmth of the hut. Figures. On days like this she questioned her sanity. The paid hill employees sat in the warm lift huts, while she volunteered to sit in the freezing rain in exchange for some free skiing. She must have a screw loose.
Sighing, Casey removed her skis, propped them against a snow bank and pulled a clean garbage bag from her pocket. With a feeling of disgust and resignation, she started cleaning up what remained from the day’s skiers. Candy wrappers and cigarette butts lay scattered around like dry leaves. Apple cores dotted the snow banks. She shook her head sadly.
Stowing her now full bag of refuse carefully into the bin provided, she sat down on a snow bank to wait for the members of her team to arrive to help close the runs.
Casey could just make out the bright yellow and blue of her fellow patrollers as they rode the lift through the fog when her radio crackled to life, breaking the eerie silence of the almost abandoned hill.
“Snowcap Base, Victor Mark. Come in Base.” Her fellow volunteer patroller Mark Smith called to the base radio
“Go for Base,” the disembodied voice of Base replied.
‘Base’s’ identity tended to be a mystery to the volunteer patrollers who didn’t always interact with all of the paid staff, other than female, professional and young it was hard to tell through the static exactly who it was. But whoever it was did a great job and almost seemed to speak code as a second language. Even with patrolling on a volunteer basis for the last 6 years, she still occasionally had to check her code card.
Casey shook her head, hardly able to believe that she’d been patrolling that long. She had turned 22 the year she joined. The same year she had arrived in Vancouver to find her fortune. Not that volunteering contributed at all towards finding that fortune, but the free skiing was usually worth it. Not so much on days like this, but there had been some phenomenal days earlier in the winter that almost made up for days like today. Casey shivered again and pulled her fleece ski hat farther down over her forehead.
Almost.
As she listened she realized that the broadcast was about a possible accident, viewed and thankfully reported, by a passing skier on the hill directly below her. She unclipped the mouthpiece of her radio from where it was attached to the inside of her jacket and advised ‘Base’ that she would handle it. She glanced up at the hut and, with a wave, acknowledged Roberta’s hand signals letting her know that she’d heard the broadcast too. Roberta opened the door and made her way out onto the ramp.
“Caught that?” Casey asked Roberta. “It sounds like the guy caught a glimpse of something in the woods, but didn’t really see what it was. If we’re lucky it’s just some debris, or a lost glove, but just in case….”
Roberta nodded, “I’ll hang out here until you have a chance to check it out. I’ll have the toboggan ready o
n standby.”
“Thanks.” She moved quickly, stepping back into her skis, and pulling the goggles dangling around her neck back into position up over her eyes, pushed off down the hill.
Water skis would probably have been easier to use, she frowned as she hydroplaned across the wet, icy slope, thankful for the newly sharpened edges that gripped the icy portions of the trail. Her skis made a wet sucking noise as she lifted one, then the other, out of deep, wet ruts as she tried desperately to find a safe trail through the half frozen slush.
For a moment, as she flew along, she felt like the only person on the mountain. All noises, except the occasional clang of the lift as the shut down procedure commenced, were muffled under the fog’s heavy cloak. This feeling of exhilaration, available to her practically whenever she wanted it, really was what made all the work of patrolling worth it. It was a feeling that could only be beat by the satisfaction she felt when she was actually able to help someone in trouble.
Casey slowed her descent as she rounded a sharp corner and the rain nearly blinded her. Only her fog free goggles saved her from becoming the next casualty. Without them she would never have been able to identify all the dips and bumps in the trail through the pouring rain. But even the most expensive goggles on the planet would useless as a means to avoid all of the sticks and rocks visible through the remaining snow.
“Oh, shi…shkabob….” She swore softly as her edge caught one of the exposed rocks and she wobbled for a moment before catching her balance and continuing on.
Rounding another corner Casey noticed the huge path of destruction cut across the trail. From there the broken boughs, fallen pine and fir needles, not to mention the gouges someone’s obviously out of control edges had made as he leapt over a high snow bank, made it easy to locate the exact position of the accident victim. As she skied closer she heard a low moan. Definitely not just someone’s lost mitten. Damn.
Thank goodness he was conscious. She let out the breath she had barely realized she had been holding. In this weather, a tree well could swallow up an unsuspecting skier quickly, and smother them almost as fast.
“So much for my hot chocolate…” she allowed herself to joke quietly as her worst fears were allayed. She came to a stop just above the accident site but still on the trail, and surveyed the scene.
She was close enough to see the man’s face, visible between the snowdrifts, and was momentarily stunned.
“Oh man. Him!” She gasped in surprise.
Roberta’s ‘purty’ man in black had been hard to forget since he had flown off the ski lift so effortlessly, which in itself hadn’t been unusual, but he had taken the time to walk back towards the lift when he realized that one of the small children in the seats behind him had lost her hat. It had been such a … nice thing to do. And when he had watched the same little girl with so much concern on his otherwise strong, roguishly handsome face as she and an older girl had skied down the beginner trail, Casey had been transfixed. She wouldn’t admit it in a million years to Roberta, but she hadn’t been able to get him out of her thoughts. The expression on his face, and his very demeanour had seemed such a contradiction.
She still wondered if there was some relationship between him and the child. He hadn’t acted like a father, not concerned enough, but uncle? Maybe. Or an older brother or a family friend?
Or maybe some serious wishful thinking?
When he had turned, tall and proud and sexy in his all-black ski suit she couldn’t help but be femininely impressed. The stretch fabric of his ski pants had faithfully followed every muscle and sinew in his lean body and showed off his strong, powerfully built thighs as he bent his knees in preparation for his descent. And then he had leaped so expertly off the edge of the double black diamond run. She hadn’t been able to look away. It wasn’t often you saw expertise like that, certainly not on this little family mountain.
His every move had been natural, effortless, fluid.
The last thing Casey had expected was for him to end up a casualty of the fog. It just went to show that no one was impervious to conditions like these.
Casey removed her skis and crossed them together at the top of the accident site. As she approached her patient, she radioed in her location and a request for transport. He definitely wasn’t going to be getting out of this under his own steam. With a quick “over” to base, she walked closer.
His right leg was bent at an odd angle and he held his arm across his chest. His eyes were closed but he appeared to be breathing normally. He lay too close to a large fir tree for Casey’s liking; a collision with any immobile object often meant some sort of internal injuries.
Position of injured, any further dangers to myself or my patient, any blood in the snow…Casey began going over in her head approach protocol for an accident and stepped up to the man lying on the ground.
He groaned and opened his eyes.
For the tiniest moment Casey allowed herself to be distracted from her duties. The color of his eyes was the most startling blue she had ever seen. Now she understood what those sappy romance novels she was always sneaking off the bookstore shelves meant when they talked about drowning in a gaze or compared eye color to looking into a cool mountain lake. Even clouded as they were with pain this man’s eyes were compelling, intelligent, soulful, beautiful… terrifying. She ran out of adjectives to describe them and just stared.
The pain in those beautiful eyes finally registered in her dazed brain, and brought her back to earth. She gave herself a mental shake. Now was definitely not the time for a stupid schoolgirl crush. And he certainly didn't look like the type of man who would be even remotely interested in someone who still thought of man/woman relationships in terms of crushes. Not that she was interested. Not at all.
“Hi, my name is Casey, I’m a member of the Volunteer Ski Patrol and I’m trained in first aid. Please don’t move until I’ve checked you over.” She recited the introduction automatically, kneeling down beside the wounded man. “Do you remember what happened?” As she had done in many other accident situations, she began information gathering even as she removed her first aid pack, placing it on the ground next to her. She unzipped the main section and replaced her heavy warm ski gloves with a pair of latex gloves. She laid her ski gloves inside the open flap of her pack to keep them dry. There was nothing worse than putting wet gloves back on after she finished examining the patient. Not that they could get much wetter than they were now.
“I think a tree hit me” The man moaned. The effort to keep his eyes open seemed too much for his weakened state and he closed them again with a groan.
At least he still had a sense of humour. It could mean he wasn’t in as bad a shape as she had initially feared. Or he was delirious and had brain damage. She voted for the former.
Casey wiped water out of her eyes and stuffed a stray tendril of dripping hair back under her sodden ski cap. Working on autopilot she continued the introduction that had been drilled into her during the long weeks of annual intensive training. “Please stay still. You could cause yourself more damage if you move around before I’ve had a chance to stabilize your injuries. Can you tell me your name and where you hurt?” Casey was all professionalism now. She wouldn’t, couldn't, afford to be interested in him as anything more than an accident victim, and the sooner she reminded herself of that fact the better.
“Andrew Peterson… I think my right leg is broken… and my chest hurts when I breathe.” He didn’t open his eyes but the tension in his face and his rasping voice gave credence to his pain. “I didn’t really hit a tree. I think I just took some really big air where I shouldn’t have.” Even in his pain his voice was low, smooth and sent shivers down Casey’s spine.
Pfft, it’s just the cold, she told herself. Voices don’t create shivers. At least they never had before. Not for her anyway. “I’m glad to hear it. You were lucky.”
Casey knew that, no matter how severe his injuries were, the weather alone would make this situatio
n a ‘load and go’. The risk of hypothermia was too great to risk doing anything except stabilize him and get him off the mountain and into the warm, dry environment of the patrol hut as fast as possible. So far he wasn’t exhibiting any obvious signs, but the longer he lay on the cold, wet ground the higher his chances became.
Grabbing her radio, Casey relayed, in code, a request for an ambulance.
Andrew didn’t appear to be one of those people that moaned and groaned as if they were dying and ended up having nothing more than a bruise or two. Even in his current position, he exuded the impression of strength and self- reliance. If he wasn’t moving, there was some real damage. Casey would bet her reputation on it. And just had, by calling for an ambulance so early in her assessment.
The adrenaline pumping through her system made it almost possible to ignore her own discomfort as icy water dripped from her soaking hat down her collar and into her eyes. With an “over and out” she signed off and reattached her radio handset to the collar of her jacket. Pulling a reflective blanket out of the pack she carefully unfolded the thin sheet and threw it over the man on the ground to keep in as much of his body heat as possible, then began her primary assessment.
“I’m going to check you over now.” She watched him in concern as he winced at the pain each breath caused him.
Andrew grunted in acceptance.
“Let me know what hurts.” She requested, and received another grunt in response.
Casey started her initial inspection. Bending close so she could hear the tempo of his breathing, she put two fingers against the carotid artery in his neck. Airway, breathing and circulation seemed fine, although his breathing was a little raspy and his skin seemed cool, there didn’t seem to be anything life threatening. She allowed for possible neck or back injuries by once again cautioning him to stay still and placed her ski gloves on either side of his head as a reminder, in case he was tempted to move. A hard collar would have to wait until the toboggan arrived. She reached under the blanket and loosened his ski jacket to inspect his chest.
Running her hands over the soft fleece of his thermal shirt, she felt his heat radiate through the thin latex gloves and, for just a moment, allowed herself to enjoy the feel of her hands tracing the smooth muscles of his chest and stomach. Cut didn’t even begin to describe him. Lean, warm, all male. He oozed testosterone and she wasn’t immune. Hell, any woman would have to be dead to be immune to this man.
Her breathing changed tempo, keeping time with her racing heart. He was warm and firm and hard. She felt her face flame hotter with embarrassment as practically of their own volition her hands smoothed further over his shoulders and down the muscles of his biceps. He’s a wounded man! She scolded herself. He’s just a man, a man in pain. But those muscles! His broad shoulders fairly rippled with sinewy strength and his chest, even through his shirt, was nothing short of a thing of beauty.
His grunt when she inspected his ribs helped to pull her back to reality. She examined the wounded area more closely, her attention once more on the first aid she was trained to perform. From the feel of it he probably had at least one broken rib.
Then she reached his stomach and hips. She felt like she was taking liberties, copping a feel on an unsuspecting accident victim. It was not a normal feeling for a first aider and made her feel a bit uncomfortable and ashamed, but holy manoly, she was a woman, and he was not just your typical desk jockey! He was long and lean and solidly sculpted. Her hands could detect no extraneous flesh anywhere. She did a quick survey of his equally muscular legs and allowed herself a small smile.
Sometimes she really loved her job.
Andrew’s quickly indrawn breath when she reached his awkwardly bent right knee stopped her. Carefully, so as not to cause him any further pain, she cleared the snow from his booted foot and, slowly opening the zipper that ran the length of the leg of his ski pants, examined the wounded area. She didn't try to unbend it at this point. She'd need help to do that without doing any more damage. The knee looked slightly swollen through his long johns. "Does that hurt?" She asked as she pressed lightly.
Andrew winced and nodded. "Yeah. It hurts."
"On a scale of one to ten, how's it stack up?"
"Right now I'd give it a six." His voice was low, his words slurred slightly. "But I'm pretty sure it'll jump a point or two once it thaws out."
"You're probably right," She had to agree. Further inspection ruled out any sign of broken bones or torn flesh. "It's probably sprained, but it's hard to tell for sure. We'll know better when we get you down to the infirmary for a full assessment."
She zipped his ski pants closed again and adjusted the position of the blanket, then, reaching under him as far as she could reach; she ran her hands over his back. No pain reaction to her touch. That was good.
"How's it look, Doc?" Andrew asked as he watched her through half closed eyes.
"You're going to be fine." Casey assured him. "The toboggan should be here any minute and we'll get you loaded and down to the warmth of the first aid hut before you know it."
"Sounds good to me." He smiled and closed his eyes again.
Rising to a semi-crouched position, Casey dropped her chin to her chest and breathed deeply. She unzipped her jacket halfway and tucked her frozen hands under her armpits, warming them against her overheated body, and examined her patient quizzically.
What was it about him that had her blushing like a schoolgirl?
With a sigh over her ridiculous crush, Casey shook her head, pulled a pen and pad of paper out of her pack and continued her assessment and recording of vital information automatically.
Andrew's shivering intensified, the spasms now racking his frame hard enough to cause him obvious pain. Casey’s concern mounted as the minutes ticked by with no sign of her requested transport. “Come on dammit, where are you?” She gazed upwards towards the summit of the trail, hoping to spot the familiar bright orange sled being pulled by Roberta, or one of her fellow patrollers. If they didn’t get her soon… At least her patient was still shivering. Once he stopped she’d really have something to worry about.
His other injuries, though, didn’t appear on the surface to be as critical as she had feared. The leg wasn’t broken, probably just a sprained knee, and he had one or two cracked ribs. But the pain of his ribs could be masking other internal injuries.
She was just beginning her secondary assessment and had completed a series of tests to rule out any spinal injury when the toboggan arrived.
“What have we got?” Roberta called out as she positioned the toboggan across the grade of the hill, next to the patient, and secured it with her skis. “Holy cow, it’s him!” She called out, her voice as shocked as Casey’s thoughts had been when she’d first seen who it was.
“His name’s Andrew Peterson, mid thirties, he’s got a bum knee and possibly some broken ribs. Although there’s no indication of a punctured lung, I can’t tell what other internal damage he may have suffered. He seems a bit disoriented, but is pretty sure he didn’t hit a tree. From the look of the area I would say he didn’t.” Casey approached her friend and helped to unload the supplies from the toboggan. “Our primary concern here of course is the weather. He’s wet and cold and risks becoming hypothermic. I’ve done a full test of range of motion and sensitivity to touch. There’s no indication of spinal injury, but he’s hurting. A lot.”
“Understood.” Roberta thankfully held her questions and further comments to herself. Casey was sure she had lots, but they didn’t have time to chat. He needed to get moved, and soon. Roberta removed the backboard from the toboggan and was positioning it next to Andrew to ease the transfer.
Working quickly, and with Roberta's help, Casey rolled Andrew to one side to create some space to straighten his right leg. She cringed at the sound of his low moan as she slowly eased the limb into a more natural shape, and stabilized the wounded knee with a blanket and wooden splint from the toboggan. Casey wrapped a crepe bandage around his chest a
s well as she could in an attempt to maintain pressure on his broken rib to help ease some of his discomfort. Just to be safe, they attached the hard collar. “OK, ready to move him onto the backboard?” She asked.
Roberta positioned herself at Andrew’s feet. “Ready.”
“On my count. One, two, three!” Casey grunted with exertion as they rolled Andrew’s body up onto his good side and then positioned the board under him.
Andrew remained stoically silent although Casey knew the movement must have caused him considerable pain.
Once he was settled comfortably Roberta left to search the site for the patient’s skis.
“Andrew?” Casey asked softly
Andrew opened his eyes and gazed at her foggily. “Hmm?”
“I just wanted to let you know that if the pain in your ribs gets any worse it might help to place a hand over the site and apply more pressure.” Her concerned gaze ran over him as she fastened the straps that would hold him onto the board. “If you feel any worse just yell and we’ll stop immediately. If there’s a position you think would be more comfortable, we can rearrange you in the sled, too.”
“Sure.” His single word answer was softly spoken. He closed his eyes and shivered.
“Ready to load, Roberta.” Casey called her fellow patroller back over to help.
Ever so carefully, the two women transferred Andrew and his ski gear into the bright orange sled.
Casey’s gaze darkened in distress as more uncontrollable shivers racked Andrew’s lithe frame. Her gaze met Roberta's and they shared a look of concern that indicated better than words the seriousness of the situation.
Roberta positioned herself in front of the toboggan between the handles. Casey carefully removed the skis holding the sled in position and laid them in the snow so that Roberta could step into them without having to compromise her control.
Returning to the back of the toboggan, Casey checked on Andrew, then adjusted the tarp covering him and grabbed the tail rope as she stepped into her own skis. “We’ll leave the rest of the splints where they are. I’ll radio the team doing sweep to pick them up as they close the run.” At Roberta’s grunt of assent: “Whenever you’re ready Roberta, lead the way.”
Cautiously, they skied the man down the mountain to the patrol hut. Roberta steered the toboggan from between the long metal handles, pushing down on one side or the other depending on the direction of the turn. Casey controlled the long length of rope attached to the tail. A backup safety device, it was used in the event that they would need the added tension to keep from going too fast when they descended down a particularly steep grade. She could also help add a bit of relief by skiing past quickly and using the rope as leverage if the going got too slow. The latter was more likely in these conditions when the snow, as they hit the lower altitudes, was bound to be even heavier.
It didn’t help that they had to be extra careful on the lower slopes so covered with patrons trying to get a last run in before the end of the day. The skiers, with their garbage bags over their suits for protection, looked like frantic little ants trying to prepare their hill against a flood.
“Watch where you’re going!” Casey yelled in frustration, as for the third time in as many minutes, they were slowed by an out of control snowboarder cutting them off.
It took longer than normal for their rescue convoy to reach the bottom but, finally, they made it. The dim lights of the patrol hut shining in the murky light of the waning sun had never looked more appealing.
Andrew had been quiet on the way down. Casey knew he must be cold and sore and was relieved that he was content to lie there quietly. He would need all the strength he had left just to get his core warm again.
Casey and Roberta skated around the last corner and slid to a stop in front of the infirmary. Already the rain had washed away much of the snow that usually covered the route to the entrance and their skis stuck a bit in the muddy track.
The head patroller met them at the door. Casey kicked out of her skis letting them lie where they fell and turned immediately to help him lift Andrew’s weak body into the patrol hut.
Andrew moaned and opened his eyes, “Angela?” He croaked, a look of panic in his eyes. “Janie? Paula?” His gaze focused on Rich, the head patroller, as he bent closer to hear the weakly uttered words. “I need to ffffind them!”