Ally was on her knees beside the stretcher. ‘Pete? Pete, can you hear me?’
The boy lay still, his pallor frightening.
‘You know him?’ Sean was frowning down at her and stupidly she felt tears prick her eyes. Poor, poor Pete.
‘Yes.’ She cleared her throat. ‘He’s one of my patients.’
‘Local boys?’ Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head, his look of exasperation tempered by the worry in his eyes. ‘They should know better. It’s bad enough rescuing tourists without having to start on the locals as well.’
Ally wanted to tell them that Pete was just trying to prove himself but she couldn’t break a confidence so instead she mentioned the diabetes and then invested all her energy into doing what she could to save the boy. He groaned and opened his eyes, focusing with difficulty on the people around him.
‘It’s OK, Pete.’ Ally ripped off one glove and stroked his face gently with her slim, warm fingers, before checking his pulse. At least he was conscious. ‘You’ve hurt yourself, sweetheart, but we’ll soon sort you out.’
‘Big softy is our Ally. She ought to be reading him the riot act, not holding his hand,’ Jack murmured to Sean, before picking up the radio and issuing more orders.
‘S-sorry…’ Pete winced and coughed slightly, his face contorting with pain.
Ally frowned. She didn’t like the look of him one little bit. His lips were blue and his breathing was laboured and irregular. She glanced urgently up at Sean who was discussing the best way to carry the boys off the mountain.
‘Problems?’ In an instant he was crouched down next to her, the light-hearted banter of their previous encounter gone. The self-assurance was still there, but for some reason she found that oddly reassuring. She had a very bad feeling about young Pete.
‘I can’t—’ Pete took a jerky breath and then another, and his eyes bulged with panic.
‘It’s OK, Pete. Just try and relax,’ Ally soothed, jerking her head towards two of the team members who were hovering. ‘Let’s sit him up.’
Together they carefully lifted him into a sitting position so that he could breathe more easily and Ally looked at Sean. ‘Pneumothorax?’
Sean nodded, his mouth
a grim line. ‘Could be. He’s certainly broken some ribs.’
And one of those ribs could have punctured a lung.
‘What’s happening?’ Jack was frowning and Sean rose to his feet in an easy movement, talking to Jack in low tones while Ally sat with Pete, monitoring his condition and reassuring him while he struggled with his breathing.
Gently she unzipped the top of his jacket and examined his neck, her heart sinking as she recognised the cardinal sign of pneumothorax. Giving Pete a quick smile, she stood up and joined Sean who was discussing the options with Jack.
She touched his arm, feeling the rock-hard muscle under his jacket. ‘He’s got tracheal deviation. We need to get him off this mountain fast.’
Sean shook his head, bracing himself against a sudden gust of wind. ‘No way. It’s compromising his breathing. If we could arrange an air evacuation then maybe we could risk leaving it, but as it is—’ He broke off and gave a shrug. ‘It’s going to be a long and difficult carry off, and he’s not going to make it unless we sort his breathing out.’
Jack frowned. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘We’ll have to put in a chest drain.’ Sean gestured to the team members carrying the medical equipment.
‘We carry a disposable chest drain,’ Jack informed him quickly. ‘It’s just that we’ve never seen it used before.’
Sean gave a humourless laugh. ‘Well, stick around—this is your lucky day.’
‘What else do you need?’ Jack was the epitome of professionalism, demonstrating with his quiet calm just how he’d managed to mastermind so many successful rescues over the years.
‘Local anaesthetic and scalpel.’
Ally caught Sean’s arm again, her expression urgent. ‘Sean, you can’t! It’s too risky to put in a chest drain here.’
‘You have a better suggestion?’ Sean removed his thick protective gloves and flexed long, strong fingers.
‘Not really.’ Ally bit her lip and glanced anxiously at Pete, who was lying with his eyes closed, a bluish tinge surrounding his lips. ‘But we’re half way up a mountain—he might die…’