LITMIR.BIZ

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next to him and buckled her belt. ‘So, be gentle with me, eh?’

      He looked at those dancing eyes and couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘First time?’

      ‘First medivac. Not first time in a chopper. Don’t you know, it’s the only way to travel in Queenstown?’ She bit her lip and explained, ‘There’s a lot of heli-sport here; heli-skiing, heli-hiking, that kind of thing.’

      With a lurch they ascended. Helicopters didn’t usually lurch. ‘It’s blowy, that’s for sure.’

      ‘Coming off the Remarkables. Along with snow, I reckon. There’s a southern blast coming up from Antarctica.’ She nodded and looked away, gripping her hands together. From this angle he could see the fine shape of her jawline and some tiny wrinkles by her eyes. Not as young as he’d first thought, then. Hair sticking out at all angles from under her hat. Long eyelashes. Geez, it was real cosy in here if he was paying attention to her eyelashes.

      Kind of cute, too.

      He gave himself a mental telling-off. He had no business thinking any woman was cute. Not when he had responsibilities elsewhere.

      Still, a bit of window-shopping never harmed anyone...

      ‘Great view, isn’t it? I wouldn’t live anywhere else on earth.’ Having raised her voice a notch above the chopper blades’ racket, Abbie pointed to the town below them. The deep blue lake stretched out as far as he could see, fringed on one side by the bustling centre of Queenstown. A string of gondolas swung directly beneath them, slowly scaling one of the mountains that framed the town. A zigzag luge was hundreds of feet below, where kids and adults alike risked life and limb—and had a lot of fun in the process—racing on go-karts down curved tracks to the valley. The girl grinned. ‘You’re not from here, right? Have you been on the luge yet?’

      ‘Nah. But I’ve scooped a kid up from it and taken him to ED. Nasty grazes and a fractured elbow.’

      ‘Makes you wary, then, does it? The adrenalin capital of the world?’ Her eyes danced again.

      If only she knew. Adrenalin was his best friend, and his worst enemy. Before he could answer, the earth started to come up to meet them and the pilot was saying something about a body at two o’clock. Cal scanned the snow, the steep ridge, the jutting rocks and thought he saw something that looked out of place. A flash of blue. Then, yes... ‘He’s over there. I can see him.’

      ‘Yes. Yes. Watch out, it’s going to be slippery,’ the pilot shouted back, his words barely audible under the chug, chug, chug of the helicopter rotor blades. He’d made a spectacular landing on the only flat bit of mountainside—it took some skill to do that. ‘Got your crampons?’

      ‘Och, yes. I’ll be fine, no worries.’ If there was one thing Callum Baird knew it was snow. Every kind. The wet, seeping-through-your-clothes kind. The fluffy make-a-decent-snowball kind. And this, the melted and frozen again ice that meant getting a foot grip was challenging. Especially in the sixty-knot winds and poor visibility at the top of Ben Lomond. That last kind of snow was why he was here in the first place. To learn how to make amends, to try to fix things that probably couldn’t be fixed, but to make things better, at least.

      He hoped.

      Funny, how he’d travelled halfway around the world and found himself on the top of a mountain bearing the same damned name as the place he’d left. Almost as beautiful, too. If the clouds disappeared, and with a bit of spring sunshine it’d be stunning...but he wasn’t here to admire the view.

      Bracing against the wind, he jumped from the helicopter then turned and grabbed his paramedic backpack. The crampons slipped on as easily as the memories. He shook the latter off. He was used to doing that. Some days they did as they were told and slunk away, and he managed to get through twenty-four hours before he was drawn back to that fateful night of cold and wet and ice. Other days they hung around him, a sopping, freezing bone-deep helplessness he couldn’t shake. ‘From what I could see, our guy’s up there, to the right—it’s fairly rocky, so we’ll have to do a bit of scrambling. He told Dispatch he’d heard a snap, so we’d best take the scoop with us, too. Hope you enjoy a bit of ice-skating?’

      ‘Preferably on the flat.’ Abbie assessed the terrain, shook her head, then passed the scoop down. ‘I’m not sure I’d manage a triple Salchow on this hill.’

      ‘I’m not sure I’d manage a triple Salchow, full stop.’ So, she had a sense of humour. That worked. Especially in conditions like this.

      Due to the deteriorating weather, it had been touch and go whether to bring the chopper up here at all, but a man’s life hung, literally, on the edge, so they’d made a call. A good one, as it turned out. The ride had been bumpy, but the wind seemed to be dying down, for now. Which meant hypothermia would be less of an issue for all of them. Two months living in New Zealand and the only thing he could predict about the weather was that it was unpredictable.

      ‘You got crampons?’

      ‘Doesn’t every woman carry a pair in her handbag?’ He watched as she delved into her backpack and pulled out a pair of ice shoes, which she fastened like a pro. ‘Ready.’

      Although giving him a reassuring smile, she looked frozen through. A tiny waif, with huge eyes and that mess of dark hair that was tumbling from clips in every direction. The huge hi-vis jacket swamped her, and she looked out of her depth on every level.

      But determination shone in her eyes.

      ‘Right. Let’s get to it.’ It was hard going—one step forward, steadying your grip. Another step. The snow had frozen to sheer ice in some places. In others, tufts of grass poked through. The wind pressed them back, the ice halted their steps, so they made it to their patient as quickly as humanly possible.

      He was a crumpled heap in bright blue and black walking gear. Alone. Like many walkers here. Starting out on a pleasant day trip, but at least he seemed suitably dressed for the occasion, unlike some Cal came across. Still, even full walking gear didn’t always prevent disaster from striking. You could be perfectly prepared for a night stranded on the mountain, but not for unexpected and complicated fractures, blizzards, nowhere to hide from the biting wind. Frostbite.

      A brother lifeless in your arms and there is nothing, nothing you can do but pray. As they neared, Cal did a primary survey. Breathing. Bleeding from his forehead. Bluish lips. Thank God for cell-phone reception, or who knew when he’d have been found. Phoning for help had saved his life.

      That was, if they could get him down quickly enough.

      The wind might have died a little, but it was still fresh as all hell up here and their guy was shaking. Cold and shock, or worse. Cal remembered to keep his words slow. Enough people had told him they didn’t understand his Scottish accent already. ‘Hello, there. I’m Cal, your knight in shining hi-vis.’

      Abbie rolled her eyes. ‘And I’m Abbie. That guy down there is Shane, and we’re going to help get you off the mountain. Now, can you tell us what happened?’

      So, she was all about the process. Okay.

      ‘I’m... Marty... I think I’ve...’ Dazed and shivering, the patient tried to sit up.

      ‘Whoa. Hold still, mate. Tell me what happened.’ Secondary survey was underway. There was blood on the ground. Which meant consideration had to be made for internal bleeding too. Blood on the floor and five more. Consider thoracic, intra-abdominal, retroperineal, pelvic, long bones.

      ‘Slipped. Fell down from the ridge. Hit my head, I think, on a rock. Chest... Leg snapped...’ He reached a hand to his right fibula and grimaced. Long bones.

      Plus, a head injury—couldn’t rule out neck damage too. ‘So, first things first, we need to put a neck brace on to protect that neck. Steady as you go. Hold still. Stay still, mate.’ Cal slipped the neck brace into place, watching as Marty clenched his fists to counter the pain. Then bent his undamaged knee. At least he could move all his limbs. Good sign.

      Cal had a closer

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