Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Linc looked up to see several widowmaker branches headed right for where Jacob was crouched, bringing Garrick, who had been in the tree, down with them.
“Move!” Linc yelled, even as he was already diving for Jacob, shoving him out of the way. And then everything blurred together, a spectacular concert of swift movement and crushing pain.
“Jacob!” he called, but his ears rang too loudly to tell if he’d actually shouted. And had he saved him? Was he too late? Too late for both of them? God, he hoped not, his last conscious thought a prayer that Jacob be okay.
* * *
“Move!” Linc’s shout reached Jacob almost simultaneously with an ominous cracking from above and a godawful yell from Garrick. And then Linc’s body, all his considerable bulk, was crashing into Jacob, shoving him several feet back as pine needles and debris rained down on them, branches and Garrick hitting the ground with sickening thuds.
“Garrick! Linc!” Fuck. Jacob’s wrist hurt from hitting the ground weird, mud was dripping down his face because his helmet was askew, and his ears rang, like he’d taken a roundhouse kick to the chin. But he was relatively unscathed while the other two were sprawled on the ground, and he didn’t know who to run to first.
Think. He needed to think. Evaluate. Assess. Neither man had answered him, the sound of his own pulse roaring above the forest noise as his heart clamored for him to rush to Linc first. However, he started with Garrick—he was closer, and also Jacob wasn’t sure he trusted himself to keep a clear head if Linc was bad. He had to pick branches and debris off Garrick to get a better look, including a heavy one off his legs that strained his aching wrist. Fuck. This wasn’t good.
But Garrick’s helmet was still on. Seriously dented, but on. Legs... Deep breath. Stay calm. The worst of the debris had landed there, and it wasn’t pretty. But Jacob forced himself to focus on one task at a time, checking for a pulse while trying not to jostle him too much.
“Come in?” He rushed to make contact with the command center via his comm set.
“Go ahead, Hartman.” Ray’s voice was filled with static, but relief still swamped Jacob, made it so that he had to swallow hard before continuing.
“We’ve got a situation here. Garrick Nelson just fell from a tree. Nasty drop. We’re going to need a medical evac for him ASAP. He’s breathing, but...” Hold it together, he reminded himself, pausing for another breath. “It’s bad, man. And Reid’s hurt too.”
“Hartman?” The comm set crackled again. “Did you hear the last order? We’re pulling crews all along your line. We needed your crew heading to the extraction point.”
“You’re not listening.” Some panic started to seep into his voice. “No way is Garrick walking out of here. His legs... We need a C-collar and a backboard and—”
“Understood. We’re working on an alternative plan. Stand by. What’s Reid’s status?”
Okay. No choice but to go investigate. He held his breath as he stumbled to Linc, who—
“’M alive.” A pile of small branches tumbled to the side as Linc sat up with a pained groan.
“You’re...” God, Jacob was having to work hard to not weep only from the sound of his voice. But he forced himself to breathe through the wave of emotions and think.
“Here.” Linc wobbled, head unsteady.
“Easy now.” He reached out to ease Linc back down. “No fast movements.”
To the comm set, he said louder, “Reid’s conscious, but a second backboard wouldn’t be a bad idea. He’s got a bump on his head.” That part didn’t look good—he’d lost his helmet at some point, probably diving for Jacob. An ugly purple knot at his hairline jockeyed for real estate with some facial abrasions and scrapes.
“No...stretcher. Just...wind...knocked outta me.” Linc didn’t sound the best either, speech slow and labored.
“Where does it hurt?” Jacob scanned for more visible injuries. His limbs were intact, no weird angles or pools of blood. “Can you wiggle your fingers?”
“Yeah. Toes too. Ankle must’ve rolled or something. Knee too. Stiff. Hurts like a bastard.” Linc’s voice still wasn’t normal, sounding like each word was taxed, but at least he was talking and making sense. It was a start, and Jacob would take it. “How’s Garrick?”
“It’s bad,” Jacob admitted.
“Fuck.” Linc’s heartfelt curse pretty much summed up Jacob’s feelings too. Ignoring Jacob’s efforts to keep him still, he sat up again. “How soon till a chopper?”
“Come in? Do we have an ETA on evac?” Jacob spoke into the comm set again.
“That’s a negative on a chopper to your current location,” Ray reported. “Wind is too high now, visibility dropping. We’re scrambling a jump—medics with supplies—but we’ve got to get you out of there ASAP.”
“You’re telling me.” Satisfied for the moment that Linc wasn’t imminently dying, he rushed back to Garrick. “Garrick’s still unconscious. And there’s blood. His legs...”