Chapter 17: Robyn

Micah calls the airfield to give them a heads up that he’s coming to take out the chopper. While he’s doing that, I go into the office to use the restroom and grab some water bottles and protein bars to bring with us.

By the time I come back outside, Micah’s already in his truck waiting for me. I climb into the cab, buckle my seat belt, and we’re off, heading north, away from Bryce.

It’s a 15-minute drive to the airfield, and as soon as we pull in and park near the office, Killian Devereaux pulls up in a dark green Jeep and parks beside us.

Killian is tall and fit, all lean muscles, with dark brown hair and a trim beard. He’s wearing hiking boots and blue jeans, along with a black sweatshirt underneath a well-worn brown leather jacket.

Killian offers his hand to me. “Robyn.” He nods. “It’s good to see you again.” I detect a hint of an accent, but I can’t place it.

“Likewise,” I say as we shake hands.

Micah points toward the office door. “After I file my flight plan, I’ll start on the precheck flight. She’s already pre-prepped, so the check won’t take long.” He disappears into the office, leaving me with his friend.

“I’m glad you dressed warmly,” the man says. “It’s chilly where we’re going.”

“Are we going up very high?”

“Not terribly high. Right now we’re at 7,500 feet above sea level. The camp is another 1,000 feet up. But you’ll definitely notice a drop in the temperature.”

While we’re waiting for Micah, I grab our water bottles and protein bars from the truck.

Micah returns a few minutes later, and Killian and I follow him to the helicopter.

“This is your helicopter?” I ask Killian as we watch Micah begin the flight precheck.

“It belongs to the search and rescue organization,” he says. “It’s not mine personally, although I am licensed to fly it. I got my pilot’s license a year ago so I could act as a backup in case Micah isn’t available. Micah does most of the heavy lifting around here. I’m just along to push a few buttons as needed.” He laughs.

Micah catches the last of that. “Don’t let him fool you, Robyn. Killian is just being modest. He could fly this thing blindfolded if he had to.”

Killian laughs. “Let’s hope dat never happens.” Again, a bit of an accent comes through.

“Your accent,” I say. “Do you mind if I ask what it is?”

“It’s Cajun, sha,” he says, this accent thickening. “I’m from da Louisiana bayou, born and raised.”

I stare up at the massive gray metal chopper. “It’s bigger than I expected it to be. How much does something like this cost?”

“It’s a refurbished Black Hawk,” Killian says. “By the time we outfitted it to meet our needs, it cost us a cool ten million. Fortunately for us, Hannah’s brother Shane is loaded. He bought it for us.”

“How many does it seat?”

“It can hold a crew of four, plus up to four passengers. Or, as is more often the case, two gurneys. It’s a pretty robust S&R chopper.”

After he finishes his preflight check, Micah waves us over to the chopper. “All aboard,” he says. “Let’s get you geared up.”

Micah offers me his hand and helps me climb up into the body of the helicopter. Inside, it’s all metal and dials and equipment.

Micah climbs in behind me. “Have a seat here.” He gestures to a rather uncomfortable looking metal seat.

After I sit, he buckles me into a four-point harness. Then he tugs on the shoulder straps until they’re snug. He hands me a helmet that includes a microphone, helps me put it on, and then he puts on his own helmet.

“Can you hear me?” It’s Micah’s voice coming through the headset.

When I give him a thumb’s up, he smiles.

“Good. Now, listen to me, Robyn. You stay seated at all times. Got it? Do not release your harness for any reason. And don’t get out of your seat.”

Grinning, I salute him. “Affirmative, captain.”

He smiles back. “Technically, I’m a pilot, not a captain, but close enough.”

After the doors are closed and secured, Micah settles himself into the front seat on the left, and Killian takes the front seat on the right.

I watch as Micah starts flipping switches. I can hear him talking to the control tower and to Killian. Occasionally, Killian flips a switch or two. And moments later, I hear the loud whirring of the blades above us. I also feel them. The chopper vibrates wildly.

“All ready, Robyn?” Micah asks as he glances back at me for confirmation.

I give him another thumbs up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The chopper shakes as we slowly lift off the ground. When it rocks a bit back and forth, I let out a squeal and clutch my armrests tightly.

“It’s okay,” Micah says. “Just sit back and relax. Enjoy the ride.”

“You have a lot of experience flying, right?” I ask him, suddenly wondering if this is such a good idea.

He chuckles. “A bit.”

“He’s being modest,” Killian says. “He evacuated injured soldiers from war zones, from hot spots, often under live fire. He’s one of the finest military pilots I’ve had the pleasure to know.”

The ground quickly falls away as we rise steadily into a clear blue sky. Eventually, we veer off to the left, heading toward some distant mountains.

I listen to the chatter between the two of them as Killian fills Micah in on the person we’re transporting to the hospital. According to Killian, there’s a group of hikers up at a camp at 8,500 thousand feet. “One of their members had a nasty fall this morning and broke his ankle. Since he won’t be able to hike down, we’re going to give him a lift to the hospital. There’s no vehicular access to this remote camp. Guests either hike down or, if that’s not an option, they’re transported by chopper.”

While they’re chatting about procedures, I watch the passing scenery out my side window. The trees start to thin out, deciduous trees replaced by more and more evergreens and scraggly brush. I see more and more rocky outcroppings and steep vertical rocks tipped with snow.

“See that rock formation there?” Killian asks over the headset as he points out his window.

I look out the right side of the chopper. “Yes.”

“Maya has climbed that rock face twice now. You remember Maya from the tavern last night?”

“Yes.” The pretty Asian girl who sat beside me. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s definitely an advanced climb. But that’s Maya for you. She knows no fear.”

When Micah glances back at me and says, “Please don’t get any ideas, Robyn,” I laugh.

“Ideas about what?” Killian asks.

“Last night, Maya offered to give Robyn climbing lessons.”

“And you don’t want her to?” Killian asks, sounding truly perplexed.

“I don’t think my heart can take it,” Micah answers over the headset.

Killian glances back at me and rolls his eyes. “I see.”

We haven’t been in the air very long, it seems, when we level out, and Micah flies us toward a large wooden structure off in the distance.

“Here’s the camp,” Killian says, pointing out his window.

Micah circles the area, then lowers us in the center of a large, flat grassy field. When we finally come to a stop, Micah and Killian release their harnesses and hop out of the chopper. Micah opens the door nearest me and helps me out.

It’s cold up here, the wind biting, stinging my face. I pull my coat closer and tug my hat down to cover my ears.

Micah grabs a black bag, while Killian removes a gurney from the helicopter and rolls it toward the building.

We’re greeted by a woman with blonde hair, who directs us inside the building. “I’m Carla Richardson, camp director.”

“Killian Devereaux, McIntyre Search and Rescue,” Killian says as he steps forward and shakes the woman’s hand. “This is Micah Jackson, our pilot. And Robyn’s along for the ride.”

“Thanks for coming, all of you,” the woman says. “The guest in need of transport is resting in my office. If you’ll come with me, please.”

We follow the woman to an office just inside the main entrance, where we find a middle-aged man lying on a sofa, his bare left ankle wrapped in a white bandage and propped up on a cushion. It’s clear to see it’s a pretty bad break. The ankle and foot don’t look right. The skin above and below the bandages is mottled purple and red, and the ankle looks misshapen.

Micah sets his medical bag on the floor beside the sofa and opens it. While he takes the man’s vitals, Killian examines the injured ankle.

“Compound fracture,” he says quietly to Micah.

Micah pulls some items out of his medical bag and proceeds to splint the man’s ankle. Even though he’s being careful, the man grunts and gasps in pain.

“We’ll take him to the hospital in Estes Park,” Killian tells the camp director. “They have an orthopedic surgery unit.”

Carla nods. “I can’t thank you enough, guys. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

Feeling useless, unable to help in any meaningful way, I follow Micah and the gurney to the exit. I run ahead and hold open the door so Micah can push the gurney outside. When he passes me, Micah reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but his touch speaks volumes. Killian and the blonde woman bring up the rear, discussing follow-up plans.

I step back out of the way as Killian and Micah load the gurney into the chopper and secure it in place with tie downs. Micah lifts me up, and I take my seat. He fastens my harness.

“I’m pretty sure I can do that myself,” I say, grinning at him as he tugs on the straps.

“I’m pretty sure you can, too, but it’s more fun for me if I do it.” He places a helmet on my head and fastens the chin strap. “Okay?” he asks. “Not too tight?”

I nod. “It’s fine.”

He reaches out to touch my cheek, just a gentle caress. His gaze drops to my mouth, and then back up to my eyes. He leans in, slowly, not bothering to notice that Killian is watching us with great interest from his seat up front. Micah presses his lips to mine, giving me a quick kiss. And then he taps the top of my helmet and goes to his own seat.

“Well, that was interesting,” Killian says over the comms.

Once he and Killian are settled in their seats, the rotors start turning. The engine roars to life and the vibrations start up all over again. Here we go , I think as the grassy field beneath us falls away.

We fly to the emergency medical facility in Estes Park, and Micah sets the chopper down on a helicopter pad outside the ER. Hospital staff come out a side door to meet us. After Micah and Killian unload the gurney, the hospital staff take the injured man inside.

“That’s it,” Micah says as we take off on the final leg of our journey. “Mission accomplished. Back to the airfield.”

It’s a short flight back. After we land, Micah helps me hop out, and then he and Killian secure the chopper.

We say goodbye to Killian, who takes off in his Jeep. Micah and I head back to the auto shop. By the time we arrive, it’s dark, and the shop is closed up for the night.

Micah drives around the building and parks in front of the cabin.

“Thanks for letting me come along,” I say as we walk inside. “That was truly an amazing experience.”

He takes his coat off and hangs it on the wall. “My pleasure. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Then he holds out his hand for my coat. I slip it off and hand it to him, and he hangs it up beside his own.

“Actually that was pretty impressive,” I say.

Micah smiles. “I’m a man of many hidden talents.”

I hits me that he had a whole other career before running the auto shop. He flew choppers like the one we were on this evening, into hot zones, risking his life to rescue injured soldiers.

He turns to me, about to say something, but the words die on his lips. Instead, his gaze locks onto mine, and we both stand there staring at each other.

Finally, Micah breaks the spell. “We missed dinner. You must be hungry.”

We ate protein bars on the flight from the hospital to the airfield, but that was hardly enough to sustain us.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, because right now my heart is beating double-time, and there are butterflies careening in my belly. My belly might be empty, but I’m hungry for something other than food.

“I’ll make us something quick,” he offers as he heads for the kitchen. “How about grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup? The soup is canned, but it’s pretty good.”

“I can actually help with that.”

Dinner isn’t anything fancy, but I’m able to help. While the soup is heating in a saucepan, I cook the grilled cheese sandwiches. Micah sets the table.

I could get used to this kind of domesticity.

Micah comes up behind me, grips my hips, and leans in to kiss the back of my head.

Oh, yes. I could definitely get used to this.