Fired and Walking Home — Until Two Helicopters Landed Shouting “Where’s the Nurse?!”

The Flight

The stomach-churning sensation of zero gravity hit Madeline as the helicopter surged upward, banking hard away from the buildings. Through the rain-streaking, she saw the hospital in the distance, a gray block where her career had ended 10 minutes ago. The soldier strapped her in, handing her a headset.

“Put this on.”

She trembled as she pulled the headset over her ears. The noise dampened to a hum.

“My name is Captain Miller,” the soldier said, his voice crystal clear now.

“I apologize for the extraction method, but we are in a code critical situation. We were told you were at St. Jude’s. We landed on the roof, but the administrator said you’d been let go. He tried to send the chief of surgery instead.”

Madeline felt a jolt of cold anger. “Sterling.”

“Yeah, that’s the guy,” Miller said, wiping rain from his visor.

“He tried to board the bird, said he was the superior medical authority.”

“What happened?” Madeline asked.

Miller cracked a grim smile. “I told him my orders were for Jenkins. He refused to step back. My sniper put a laser dot on his chest and told him to sit down. He sat down.”

Madeline stared at him. She imagined Marcus Sterling, the god of St. Jude’s, cowering on the wet helipad while a military sniper told him he wasn’t wanted. A strange, hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat.

“Where are we going?” she asked, looking out at the gray expanse of Lake Michigan rushing by beneath them.

“O’Hare Air Force Reserve Base,” Miller said.

“Air Force One is on the tarmac, but the medical bay is set up in the hangar. It’s a mess, Madeline. We have a structural collapse at a fundraising event. The girl… it’s bad. They have the equipment, but they don’t have the hands. The flight surgeon is overwhelmed.”

Madeline looked down at her hands. They were still shaking, but differently now. This wasn’t fear of unemployment; this was the adrenaline of the job. This was the zone.

“Tell me the vitals,” Madeline said, her voice hardening. “What are her stats? Is she intubated?”

Miller looked at her, impressed. He tapped his tablet. “Oxygen saturation is 82 and dropping. Trachea is deviated. They can’t get the tube in. Significant swelling.”

“They need a cricothyrotomy,” Madeline said instantly.

“But if she’s pediatric, the landmarks are hard to find. If they miss, they hit the jugular.”

“Exactly,” Miller said. “That’s why we came for you.”

Madeline looked out the window. 10 minutes ago, she was walking in the rain wondering how she would pay her electric bill. Now she was flying in a military chopper to save a child connected to the highest office in the land.

“Captain,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I hope you flew fast.”

“Supersonic, ma’am.”

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