The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

and exactly what she and Jed had been planning to beg/borrow/steal when they got here – utilitarian ripstop khaki trousers with useful cargo pockets, long-sleeved shirts. She stripped off her sodden clothes. She dried herself with the hand towel and changed into them, having to roll over the waistband of the trousers twice to get them to stay up.

She went back to the desk for her rucksack, then walked back into the small bedroom, to find Jed throwing up again. Alex hadn’t been quite so ready for it and it was all over the floor.

‘Mop?’ she asked.

He looked up, hesitating at the sight of her dressed in the too-big ranger’s uniform; she knew she must look feral. A Jungle Jane. ‘There’s some cleaning supplies in the cupboard beside the—’

She arched an eyebrow, stopping him.

‘I’ll get it.’ He rushed past as she reached into her bag and pulled out her small doctor’s kit. She put the stethoscope back on and listened to Jed’s heart. It was labouring hard. She put the cuff on his good arm and took his blood pressure. Too high.

‘Have you got a torch?’ she called through to Alex, able to hear his footsteps coming back down the corridor, stop, retreat again.

‘Here,’ he said, a few moments later.

She took it in silence. It was far too big for what she needed, but better than nothing. She shone the beam into Jed’s eyes. He winced, the pupils restricting.

‘Good, that’s good,’ she smiled, rubbing his uninjured arm encouragingly. ‘You’re doing well, Jed.’

Alex began mopping the floor around her and she stepped out of the way. The smell of bleach was a welcome alternative to that of vomit. She watched blankly for a moment as he squeezed the mop head in the wringer. It seemed completely ludicrous that any of this was happening. That of all the people to have come into this remote outpost, it should be him. Or rather, them.

He looked up and caught her staring.

‘There’s some in the office too, remember,’ she said.

‘Right.’ His eyes narrowed slightly.

‘How much longer before help gets here?’

Alex checked his watch. ‘Five minutes? Ten? We’ll hear them.’

Hear them? ‘What’s going to happen?’

‘When the other two get here, they’ll stretcher him down to the road, where an ambulance can get near enough to intercept.’

‘And the hospital?’

‘Is about half an hour away from there.’

‘Do they have the equipment? He’s going to need a CT scan.’

‘They’ve got good doctors there.’

It wasn’t an answer. ‘Good doctors still can’t see a bleed inside a skull,’ she said flatly. ‘Do we need to have a helicopter on standby to get him to San José?’

He stared at her and she realized he’d never heard her speak this way before, referencing her easy access to resources that were out of reach of almost everyone. When they’d been together – so very long ago, now – it had been something she had gone to great lengths to keep hidden. As well they both knew.

‘Probably. Yes.’

‘Then I assume you can sanction that.’ She stared at him levelly. ‘Or would you prefer I do it myself?’ She was pulling rank and they both knew it.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said, walking out.

Tara felt the room decompress as he went down the hall and made the call; all the air seemed to leave with him. She looked back at her patient. Jed was lying stretched out, eyelids fluttering as he stared, unseeing, at the pitched ceiling.

‘Just don’t go to sleep on me, Jed. You must stay awake. For Paco’s sake, and Sarita’s, and all your beautiful children – stay awake.’

He groaned. ‘Pah—’ His lips pushed out, making the sound but not quite able to finish it.

‘Paco’s okay,’ she soothed him. He wasn’t okay, of course, but neither was it a lie. The child was technically in the same condition as when they’d left, the same as if they hadn’t ever embarked upon this quest in the first place. She knew it had always been a long shot anyway, a desperate attempt to just do something.

Alex came back ten minutes later. ‘Okay. Everything’s arranged. There’s a chopper landing in town that will take him straight to San José.’

‘Good.’

His expression changed as he looked back at Jed. ‘How’s he doing?’

‘His GCS score is nine, which I’m not happy about.’

‘GCS?’

‘Glasgow Coma Scale. It’s a way of grading head injuries.’

‘Oh.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets and began to pace at the doorway. The room stank of bleach and her initial relief to be free of the stench of vomit was fading fast. The air felt toxic and chemical; she had a growing urge to stand outside and turn her face up to the rain.

The sound of something outside made them both turn their heads. It was a distant whirring, high-pitched and insistent.

‘That’s them,’ Alex said. ‘Let’s help him up.’

He came over and pushed Jed to a sitting position.

‘Let me just get him covered up,’ she said, wrapping the towel around Jed’s hips and securing it. Dignity mattered, even at times like this.

Alex draped Jed’s good arm over his shoulder and managed to get him to stand. Tara grabbed the blanket and held the doors open as the two men staggered and limped through the narrow corridor, coming through again into the office. She opened the door onto the deck outside and saw with relief that the rain had finally stopped. A hazy sunshine now lit the sky, a gentle steam lifting up off the ground, the trees and bushes . . . The animals had come back out again too, birds trilling and shrieking from on high, insects buzzing and skittering furiously.

She could almost believe that the events of the past few hours had been some strange delusion – the shock of seeing Jed crumpled on the ground, administering first aid in a jungle setting, staggering through the streaming mud, Alex . . .

She looked up, not sure what the sound was that she could hear and was astonished to see a microlight coming through the sky. She watched as it approached at speed, then