Chapter 10
Selene
The Watson Memorial Hospital helipad materializes out of the swirling snow like a ghostly platform suspended in the air. My hands grip the controls tighter, knuckles white with tension, as relief floods through me at the sight.
“Watson Memorial, this is Life Flight 7,” I radio while beside me, Alexia alerts the transplant team. My voice stays steady despite my racing heart. “Beginning final approach. Visibility severely limited.”
“Copy Life Flight 7. Dr. Clarkson and team standing by to assist Dr. Winters upon landing. Proceed with caution.”
I wrestle with the controls during our descent, fighting against wind gusts and stinging snow that pelts the windshield relentlessly. Through the whiteout, I catch glimpses of figures rushing toward the helipad, hunched against the storm.
“Not too different from landing in a sandstorm,” I mutter, more to myself than to Alexia, who clutches her seat with white-knuckled fingers. “Just colder. And there's coffee waiting for us on the ground.”
“Less talking, more landing. Please,” she grits out through clenched teeth.
The skids touch down with surprising gentleness given the conditions. As soon as the rotors start slowing, the transplant team converges on us. Alexia transforms instantly — gone is the terrified passenger, replaced by a surgeon radiating confidence from every pore.
“For God’s sake, be careful with that container!” she barks as she hands over the precious cargo to a transplant team member.
Before I can even climb down from the cockpit, they’ve vanished into the storm.
***
“She'll save my little girl, won't she?” Vivian whispers beside me in Holly's room, her voice trembling with fear and hope.
“If anyone can do it, Dr. Winters can,” I assure her with a slow nod. “They'll be at least four hours. How about we grab some coffee? I could use one.”
“Tell me everything, please. I need… I need something to focus on, or I'll go crazy waiting,” Holly's mother pleads in the hospital cafeteria, gripping her scalding coffee cup like she's trying to break it.
I take a long sip of my drink and pause. How do you tell a terrified mother you nearly crashed while transporting her daughter's only chance at survival?
“The round trip was quite the adventure,” I acknowledge with a casual shrug. “At least the mutant pigeons in Central Park didn't attack us this time.”
“Holly loves those stories you tell her,” Vivian sighs, attempting a smile.
“Well, it was definitely an adventure,” I admit. “What matters is your daughter has a fantastic surgeon doing everything possible to give her many more years with us. Plus, I promised her some helicopter flying lessons, and I always keep my promises.”
“You care about her, don't you?”
“Holly? Of course, she's a wonderful kid. I adore her.”
“No, Dr. Winters. I see how you look at her,” she corrects.
“I… well… it's complicated, I guess.”
“There's nothing complicated about the way she looks at you too. Especially when she thinks no one's watching,” she adds with a wink.
Before I can respond, the cafeteria door bursts open and Safira Garzia storms in, her face stormy with anger. Behind her, Arya runs in, frantically gesturing warnings about the impending explosion.
“Care to explain how we suddenly have a heart for Holly Thompson? Because I distinctly remember all flights being grounded due to weather conditions,” she demands, her raised voice drawing attention from nearby nurses who abandon their coffee to watch the show.
“Must've been those Christmas elves at Watson Memorial,” Arya cuts in, dropping into the chair beside me. “You know how they get this time of year, all hopped up on candy canes. Probably hijacked Santa's sleigh for a Vermont joy ride or something.”
For a moment, Safira gapes at Arya, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.
“Dr. Kumari, this isn't a joke. We have protocols that-”
“Who's joking?” Arya protests. “I'm dead serious. I haven't seen any helicopters take off or land. Have you? You're going off some emergency call that coulda been anyone, but you weren't at the helipad. Now those elves… they've been decorating pediatrics, and I'm pretty sure one of them ate half my sandwich yesterday.”
“There's no flight authorization for the helicopter,” Safira continues, ignoring Arya's comments. “Yet Dr. Winters is currently in OR 3 performing a heart transplant and-”
“Magic!” Arya interrupts again. “Christmas magic. Super powerful stuff.”
“It was my decision,” I cut in, dropping my voice to barely above a whisper. “I flew without authorization. Dr. Winters had nothing to do with this.”
“Except, y'know, being in the helicopter,” Arya points out. “Unless that was an elf in a doctor costume.”
“Enough, Dr. Kumari!” Safira snaps.
“The responsibility is mine alone,” I insist, jumping in before things escalate further. “I made the call, I took the helicopter without permission, risking Dr. Winters' life and valuable equipment. I broke protocol, so if someone needs to be fired or charged or whatever you're thinking, I'm your girl.”
“The board will discuss this, but you'll likely lose both your job and pilot's license at minimum. Unauthorized flight in dangerous conditions, FAA violations, stolen aircraft… Not to mention endangering a doctor's life.”
“Technically, Dr. Winters endangers her life every time she tries something simple like making coffee. That woman should not be allowed near electrical appliances,” Arya interjects, tipping her chair back on two legs.
“I repeat, this isn't a joke.”
“No kidding? 'Cause I think it's pretty fucked up that you care more about some stupid protocol or helicopter cost than saving a seven-year-old kid's life. Maybe the hospital needs to check its priorities,” Arya spits, leaving Safira speechless.
I stand and approach the administrator. After two tours in Afghanistan, I'm not about to let some angry bureaucrat intimidate me.
“You want to fire me or take my license? Go ahead,” I tell her, leaning in close. “I don't give a damn. You know why? Because there's a seven-year-old girl in surgery who's gonna live because some of us chose to act instead of hiding behind those fucking protocols.”
“Protocols exist to protect people,” she mutters.
“Right. They exist to protect the hospital's bank account. How much will legal charge to explain to the press why we let a seven-year-old die rather than risk a helicopter?”
“Dr. Kumari, one more word and-”
“Oh, I got plenty more words. Want me to draw you a fucking picture?”
“The board will discuss all of this. Both the unauthorized flight and Dr. Winters' involvement,” she concludes, standing up.
“They already told you Dr. Winters didn't do jack, you asshole,” Arya protests.
“This is a very serious matter.”
“You know what's serious? Telling this kid's mom — who's sitting right here listening to you — that her daughter died 'cause we couldn't be bothered to do anything. 'Cause we were too busy following our bullshit protocols — and we got so many of them that nobody can keep track. So instead of threatening the people who saved her life, why don't you go shuffle some papers or whatever the hell you do all day?” Arya growls, voice rising as Safira retreats, earning applause from the nurses at the next table.
“Worst part is you'll have to write the report as chief of surgery,” I remind her.
“I'm totally writing that elves delivered the heart. Dear stuck-up board members, Christmas magic is real, Holly Thompson's alive, and you can kiss my ass about protocols.”
“Thanks for having my back. I owe you one,” I say, bumping her shoulder.
“Messing with Safira's my favorite hospital hobby. Almost as fun as teasing Alexia about how she undresses you with her eyes every time she sees you.”
My response is cut off by a surgery nurse rushing in, slightly out of breath.
“Dr. Winters is starting to close now. Everything's gone well so far,” she announces, and Vivian breaks down in tears at the news.
“That's Christmas magic for you. Couldn't fail,” Arya says with a wink.