1
Blood welledbetween Ryder Meyer's fingers as the small boy whimpered. He adjusted the pressure cuff, gauze already soaked through.
The Jayhawk’s rotors thundered overhead, beating like war drums. Salt air, aviation fuel, and blood—the familiar scent of another rescue while the cabin vibrated under his knees.
“How’s he look back there?” His brother Wyatt’s voice crackled through the headset, calm despite the crosswinds buffeting the helicopter.
Ryder pressed his stethoscope against the child’s chest, listening past the engine noise. “Vitals are stable, but we need to get him to the hospital soon. Deep laceration on the forearm, probably needs surgery.” The boy’s arm had been caught in the boat’s anchor line when a rogue wave hit, dragging him across the deck and into the sharp edge of a cleat.
“Is Andrew going to be okay?” Harry Taylor’s voice shook from his seat across the cabin, still dripping seawater from his own rescue, straining against his harness to get closer to his son. He’d jumped into thirty-eight-degree water when his son wentoverboard, hauling him back onto their charter fishing boat with strength fueled by pure terror.
“He’s going to be fine,” Ryder reassured. But inside, his chest tightened.
Andrew looked four years old, maybe five. Only a year or two older than his daughter Ellie. His brown eyes were wide with fear and pain medication. “It hurts.”
For a split second, Ryder saw Ellie's face instead—her wide blue eyes, her small hand reaching for him in the dark. His throat closed. What if this were her? What if she were the one bleeding and terrified while he was out on a call, unable to reach her?
He slammed the thought shut before it could take root, jaw locking.
Not now. Not ever.
“You’re the bravest kid I’ve ever met.” Ryder’s voice softened as he adjusted the pressure bandage with careful hands.
The boy's eyes fixed on him.
“Did you know you’re riding in the same helicopter that rescues superheroes?”
Andrew’s eyes flickered with interest despite his pain. His skin was pale against the orange rescue blanket swaddling him. “Really?”
“Really. And you know what? You’re being so brave that I think you qualify as a superhero yourself.” Ryder caught the father’s grateful look and continued his assessment. The boy’s breathing remained regular, and his pulse, while elevated, wasn’t showing signs of shock. Good signs.
The voice of their chief mechanic, Jake Henley, cut through the headset from his position at the hoist. “ETA to Anchorage Regional is ten minutes. Pediatric trauma standing by.”
Ryder nodded, relief washing through him. Ten minutes. Andrew’s fingers were warm and pink—good circulation despite the injury.
“Daddy, I’m scared,” Andrew whispered, his uninjured hand reaching for his father.
Taylor’s voice cracked as he took his son’s hand. “I’m right here, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.” Guilt and terror twisted the dad’s face.
“You saved his life out there,” Ryder said. “That was some pretty incredible dad reflexes.”
“I should have been watching him more closely. The wave came out of nowhere and?—”
“Hey.” Ryder's voice was firm, eyes direct. “You jumped into freezing water without hesitation. You pulled him back. You saved his life. That's what matters.”
In his years of marine rescue, he’d seen too many tragedies born from split-second decisions, but Andrew’s dad had made all the right ones.
The helicopter banked slightly as Wyatt adjusted course, and Ryder braced himself against the movement while keeping Andrew steady. Through the small window, the lights of Anchorage grew larger against the early winter darkness.
“Look, Andrew.” Ryder pointed toward the window. “See those lights? That’s where we’re going. There’s a doctor there who fixes up superheroes just like you.”
Andrew managed a small smile, and something in Ryder’s chest loosened.
Almost there.
The handoverat Anchorage Regional was swift and efficient. As soon as the Jayhawk touched down on the hospital’s rooftop helipad, the pediatric trauma team was already waiting—gurney ready, faces focused.
Ryder helped transfer the boy onto the stretcher, keeping the IV line clear as a trauma nurse adjusted the oxygen mask on Andrew’s face. The attending ER physician ran alongside them as they moved down the corridor toward the pediatric trauma bay, calling out vitals and injury details Ryder had provided en-route.
