"He's under," she said.
"Is he okay?" Lana ventured.
"On a normal day, yes. But he was battered beyond recognition from the helo crash," Dan said. He touched the device behind his ear. "Tim, we need a med-evac now, or Brady won't make it."
Jack whined from nearby, and Lana moved to his side, unable to help the two soldiers tending to Brady. Soon, she heard the unmistakable sound of a helo nearing.
The next hour passed as if in a dream. Brady's body was placed on the helo, and Lana climbed in with him while Dan and Elise stayed with Jack. Doctors worked quickly to stabilize Brady in a helo ride that seemed far too long for Lana's comfort. Shaking with fear for Brady, she watched them cut through the skin grafts and transfuse blood then jump his heart. His chest was covered in the same deep scars that lined his face and neck.
They made her want to cry, for she couldn't imagine what kind of pain he'd been in after the helo crash. And he'd still come after her. Any resentment that lingered from his betrayal melted away at the sight of what he'd been through to save her. One of the medics cleaned up her hands and face before returning to Brady. They worked on him until she felt the helo descend and finally reach the ground.
More medics rushed out to the helo. Lana followed them into the medical facility after a quick look around, not recognizing the flat landscape and distant red rocks surrounding the canyon in which they'd landed. The medics finally motioned for her to stop and closed double doors.
Lana stood in the silence outside the operation room, exhausted and worried. She made her way to the nearest waiting room. She soon grew too restless to sit still and paced. She turned to retrace her route and stopped.
"Hello, Lana," Mr. Tim said, standing near the door. "May I join you?"
She stared, unaccustomed to the political powerhouse asking for anything. His blue gaze swept over her, lingering on the blood-soaked clothing she wore. For the first time in her adult life, Lana didn't care what he thought about her appearance or presence someplace where he might not think she belonged.
"He's stable," Mr. Tim said. "Pretty torn up, but stable."
She rubbed her face with a heavy sigh and sat, relieved.
"And you?" he asked politely.
"I'm fine."
"Looks like you could use a decent meal."
"I assume you're here for these, not for us," she said, aware of how harsh her words sounded. She fumbled with the cargo pocket and opened it.