Chapter 23: Return to Challenger

  JJ was the last to be hoisted up into the fuselage.

  His boots hit the Jayhawk’s floor with a hard metal thud. The aircraft bucked sideways on a gust, and the cabin swung. Everything was suddenly louder: the roar of the rotors overhead, the slap of wind against the open door, the sharp stink of hot oil and gunpowder.

  The crewman at the door grabbed JJ’s harness strap and yanked him fully inside. “Got you.”

  JJ nodded in thanks. He unhooked in one motion, shouldered past a dangling ammo can, and dropped into a crouch near the open door.

  Outside, fog and jungle whipped by in chaotic flashes. The slope where they’d been moments ago was already vanishing under the canopy.

  “Door guns cold!” the crewman shouted over the noise.

  The pilot’s voice came through the headset, clipped and strained. “Hold on, we’re punching out. Everyone, strap in.”

  “Hector?” JJ barked.

  Hector was already buckled into a web seat, chest heaving like he’d sprinted a mile. He held up a thumb. “Set, jefe.”

  Little Bear sat opposite him, shotgun laid across his lap, expression unchanged except for the pulse working in his jaw. He gave JJ a short nod, good to go.

  Loni was on the floor with Samuel, knees planted wide for balance. She’d jammed her trauma kit open and was bracing herself with one hand against a cargo tie-down while the bird rocked.

  Samuel looked gray. Sweat slicked his forehead. His lips were still cracked, and his eyes kept fluttering toward the open door like he expected something to reach in and grab him.

  “Hey,” Loni said firmly. “Eyes on me. Breathe.”

  Samuel’s throat bobbed. “I’m… trying.”

  “You’re doing well,” she said.

  JJ leaned in and placed a headset on him so they could talk. “Samuel.”

  Samuel’s eyes found his.

  “You told us you saw Jake, then he was gone. Did you see which direction?”

  Samuel swallowed. He was shaking, but his gaze sharpened as he tried to be useful. “Downhill… off the ridge. Left side. He…he was running, and then he wasn’t there anymore.”

  “Left side downhill,” JJ repeated, locking it in. He glanced at Little Bear. Little Bear nodded once.

  Hector’s face twisted. “That’s not much to go on, jefe.”

  “It’s something,” JJ said.

  JJ shifted to his radio, thumbed the mic. “Challenger, this is Muldoon, over.”

  Static, then Naomi’s voice snapped in. “Challenger here, report, Muldoon.”

  “We recovered one additional survivor. A teen male, wounded but stable. We're airborne and inbound.” JJ’s eyes flicked to the open door again, then back to Samuel. “We got a lead on more survivors,”

  “Copy. Muldoon, you have five minutes before that weather band hits you. J-2-zero returns to deck now till skies clear.”

  JJ sighed as the pilot confirmed. He looked at Little Bear. His voice was calm over the headset. “We’ll come back boss. We got three. If the others are alive, we’ll find them.”

  Hector leaned forward. “LB is right, we did well.”

  JJ’s gaze landed on Samuel for half a beat. Samuel was trying to sit upright.

  “Don’t… don’t leave them,” Samuel begged.

  JJ nodded. “We won’t kid.”

  The pilot’s voice cut back in. “Muldoon, I’ve got a line to the ship. Coming in hot. Everyone brace.”

  The Jayhawk dipped. The cabin angle shifted, and Samuel made a small sound through clenched teeth. Loni immediately tightened her hold.

  JJ keyed his mic again. “Naomi. Prep the med bay.”

  Naomi’s answer was instant. “Already on it.”

  JJ clicked off. He looked at his team.

  “Rest up,” JJ said. “As soon as the skies clear, we’re going back in.”

  Hector snorted. “Slave driver.”

  Little Bear’s eyes glinted with mirth. “As if we’d do anything else.”

  Loni didn’t look up. “JJ, I’d follow you into hell.” She hesitated, then continued. “But are you sure we should go back?”

  JJ looked at Samuel, then at Loni. “You really want to give up on those kids?”

  She stared him down for a beat, then shook her head. “No.”

  “Tranquila hermana. We’ve been through worse. This time included.” Hector said, smirking at her.

  The Jayhawk leveled, the roar deepening as the ship came into view through the fog, dark steel, heaving in the swell.

  ?

  The deck rushed up fast, slick with spray, dotted with crew in helmets and rain gear braced against the rotor wash. Signal wands carved sharp neon arcs through the gray as the Jayhawk fought the wind and dropped hard onto the pad.

  The skids hit metal with a jolt that traveled through the frame.

  “Chocks!” someone yelled.

  JJ was out the door before the rotors had even begun to spin down, boots skidding half a step on the wet paint. He caught himself on the frame, then leaned back in.

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  “Easy…don’t drop him,” Loni warned, already hauling Samuel toward the exit.

  Samuel’s eyes were wide and glassy, fixed on nothing. His breathing came shallow and fast through clenched teeth.

  “Samuel,” JJ said, close enough to cut through the roar. “Hey! Stay with us, kid.”

  Samuel tried to nod.

  Two corpsmen in navy-blue scrubs were already at the pad with a gurney, flanked by a woman in a face shield and trauma gloves.

  “Penetrating?” she asked, eyes on the bandage.

  “Left ribs,” Loni said. “Wrapped in the field. He’s been moving on it for hours.”

  “Alright. On three.” The woman’s voice stayed calm. “One, two, three.”

  They slid Samuel onto the gurney in one coordinated motion and immediately started working as they rolled.

  A blood pressure cuff cinched around his arm. A pulse ox was clipped onto his finger. Sticky leads slapped onto his chest. Oxygen mask pressed to his face.

  Samuel jerked away from it on reflex.

  “Hey,” the woman said, not unkindly. “Breathe. This helps.”

  The monitor’s green line jumped and steadied. A number flashed.

  “Sat ninety-two,” a corpsman called out. “Heart rate one-thirty.”

  “Two IVs,” the woman ordered.

  A needle slid into Samuel’s arm. Then another. Clear tubing looped. A bag of fluid hung and began to drip.

  Samuel’s hands twitched, searching for something to hold.

  Loni caught his hand. “Hang in there,” she said. “Don’t pull the lines.”

  He did, fingers tightening like a steel vice.

  They hit the hatch and rolled into the medical bay. It was bright, clean, and humming with readiness. A trauma room had been cleared. A crash cart stood open like a toolbox. Metal trays waited under sterile cloth. A portable ultrasound sat at the foot of the bed, already plugged in.

  They transferred Samuel to the trauma bed in one smooth slide.

  “Airway’s patent,” the corpsman said, leaning close to Samuel’s face. “Talk to me, kid.”

  Samuel rasped, “Hurts.”

  “Good,” the corpsman replied. “Means you’re still alive.”

  The doctor glanced at the monitor, then at the bandage. “Expose.”

  Scissors snipped. The field wrap came away. Dried blood flaked. A darker, wetter sheen pulsed underneath.

  Samuel made a strangled sound and tried to curl inward.

  “Pain control,” the doctor said.

  A syringe appeared. A line flushed.

  “Slow,” Loni warned quietly, watching Samuel’s face. She wasn’t in charge in here, but she wasn’t silent either.

  The doctor gave her the briefest nod. “Slow.”

  Samuel’s breathing eased by half a fraction. His eyes stayed wet, but the panic behind them softened enough for him to focus.

  The doctor pressed a stethoscope to his chest, left, right, high, low, listening like the answers were hiding between ribs.

  “How does it sound?” a corpsman asked.

  “Right is good,” she said. “Left is… diminished.”

  The doctor didn’t look up. “Ultrasound. Now.”

  Gel spread cold across Samuel’s skin. The probe pressed in under his ribs, then slid up toward the chest. The ultrasound screen flickered with ghostly shapes.

  The doctor’s gaze sharpened. “Any signs of fluid?”

  A corpsman leaned in, calling out calmly, “No free fluid in the abdomen.”

  The doctor moved the probe again, higher. Samuel hissed through his teeth.

  “Hold still,” Loni murmured to him. “You’re doing great.”

  The doctor watched the screen for a beat longer. “I want a portable chest X-ray. And prep a chest tube tray, just in case.”

  A corpsman was already moving, pulling a sealed kit, setting it down, peeling back packaging with practiced efficiency. Another clipped a bag labeled “NS” to the pole and opened a second line.

  “Tetanus?” someone asked.

  “Give it,” the doctor said. “And start broad-spectrum IV.”

  Loni glanced at JJ. The look said: We got him. Go do your job.

  JJ exhaled and stepped back to give the staff space.

  Samuel’s voice reached him one last time, small and raw. “Don’t… don’t leave them.”

  JJ stopped in the doorway and looked back.

  The doctor had a hand pressed to the wound, controlling bleeding while the team worked around her. Monitors beeped. Orders moved from mouth to action without hesitation. Samuel had oxygen. He had IVs. He had a room full of people who knew exactly what to do next.

  JJ nodded once to Samuel. “We’ll find them, kid.”

  He stepped out into the corridor and nearly collided with Naomi, already moving toward him with a clipboard.

  “How bad?” she asked, eyes flicking to the closed med bay doors.

  “Stable,” JJ said. “They’re imaging now. Standing by on a chest tube if needed.”

  Naomi’s jaw tightened. “Good. A minor storm is rolling through the island. Nothing serious, but you can’t go back till it clears.”

  Hector and Little Bear caught up to JJ, still damp.

  Hector wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. “Good. Gives us time to prepare.”

  JJ was already walking. “War room. Now.”

  They entered the command center where the island schematic lay weighted under clips. Grease pencil marks circled the ridge. A line angled downhill left from the overlook.

  Naomi tapped the weather monitor with the pen. “When this breaks, you get one clean insertion window. One.”

  JJ leaned over the map, voice low and controlled. “We go back to the ridge. Work downhill. We follow the last direction Sam gave us.”

  Little Bear nodded once. “If they went downhill, we might find them in one of the maintenance buildings.” He said, pointing to the map.

  Hector blew out his breath. “Still a lot of land to cover.”

  JJ didn’t argue. He just set his palms on the table. “We’ll have J-2-zero drop us at the visitor center with some spare tires. We’ll fix the ATV and get it moving again.” He pointed to the service roads. “We can follow the service roads.”

  Naomi met his eyes. “Anything else?”

  JJ’s mouth twitched. “Get me a copy of InGens list. We need to familiarize ourselves with what’s on that island.”

  Outside the bulkhead, the ship creaked on the swell, and somewhere down the corridor a monitor beeped steadily in the med bay. Samuel’s heartbeat, stubborn and real.