Page 62 of Natalie's Nighthawk

“Chickadee?” Graham’s voice again.

“I’m singing, okay. Leave me alone. I’m singing. Quit bossing me around.”

“Chickadee? Can you open your eyes?”

“No. Too tired,” she slurred weakly. The exhaustion was overwhelming, she could hardly think of the words. “I … I’ve forgotten the words again,” she whispered as she felt something pinch her on her good arm, and warmth seeped in.

“That’s okay. You can stop singing now,” he told her.

She smiled, or at least she thought she smiled. But she didn’t feel her lips move. “Good,” she said, drifting off again.

Warmth. She felt so much heat. How was that possible? She tried to open her eyes. They wouldn’t obey. She could still smell the musty earth of her prison, so where was the warmth coming from. She tried to roll onto her back. Something was preventing her.

“Chickadee? Are you with me?” Natalie felt something wet at her lips. Water. She let it trickle into her mouth. God, that was good. She swallowed and let more drip in. And more. She desperately wanted more. “Easy,” he cautioned. “Just a little at a time.”

Something was trying to penetrate the brain fog. There was warmth and water. But she knew she was still at the bottom of the well. How could there be warmth and water? She hadn’t had any of that in … days. She felt something move against her. Enveloping her in more heat. A lone thought filtered through her confusion. She wasn’t alone.

She commanded her eyes to open. She had to see. Had to know for sure. “Graham?” she croaked.

“I’m here, Chickadee.” Natalie felt arms squeeze her tight.

“Wha … what took you so long?” She didn’t know why she said that. It just popped into her head. She felt his chuckle against her body. His lips on her forehead.

Little things. She started to notice little things. She could feel skin against her skin. She glanced down. He’d lifted both their shirts and was laying torso to torso against her. Warming her with his own body heat. He’d also draped something shiny over them. There was something in her hands. What were those called? Hand warmers? She raised her uninjured hand to look. It was covered with a glove, but she could definitely feel something warm in her palm. And there was a tube coming out of the crook in her elbow, but her addled brain couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Here, try some more water.” He poured the warmish liquid into her mouth. Natalie heard something crackle, then another voice.

“Boss, we’re lowering the basket now.”

“Copy,” Graham answered. She mourned the sudden loss of heat. Graham was leaving her. She tried to protest but couldn’t get the words out. He lowered her shirt and wrapped the shiny thing tightly around her. He was talking with someone, but she couldn’t make out the words. Then he was kneeling down near her again. He placed something over her head. A hat? Maybe.

“We’re gonna get you out of here now.” She couldn’t respond. Only stare at him. His ice-blue eyes had her mesmerized. She felt an arm slide behind her shoulders and another under her knees. Then she was lifted. Finally, off the cold hard ground. She must have passed out again because the next thing she knew, she was leaning against something that felt like part metal. Graham was placing straps around her. Tying her into the metal thing. She tried to search her mind for the proper words but failed. It was beyond her right now.

Flying. She was flying. A bird. She’d turned into a bird. “I’m flying,” she rasped past her parched lips.

Graham chuckled. “That’s right, Chickadee. You can finally fly.”

“Cool.”

There was light. Everywhere. So much light it hurt her eyes. She squeezed them shut to block out the worst of the brightness. She was lying on the ground again. Still strapped to that … thing. Why couldn’t she think of the word for it? More warmth was being piled on top of her. Then a woman’s voice.

“God, Natalie. You gotta stop scaring me like this.” Maddie. Her sister was here. But where was Graham? She opened her mouth to ask but could only croak out the slightest sound. “Shh,” Maddie said. “Don’t try to talk. The boys will get you to the hospital, and you’ll be warm again in no time.” That sounded nice.

“Love you,” she heard Maddie tell her. Love you too, Natalie tried to say. Love Graham. Must tell him, but where was he? She tried to look for him, but the muscles in her neck wouldn’t obey. Must tell him. It was like a mantra in her head as she drifted off again.

Graham paced the hospital corridor waiting for them to bring Natalie back. She was in x-ray getting her arm and ribs looked at. It was late now. They had waited to do the x-rays until her body heat rose. She was so frail. So pale. She looked like she was dead. If she hadn’t been singing, and yelling at him, he’d have been sure she was dead.

That singing. His clever little Chickadee. Guiding him to her with song. He’d heard her even before he’d entered the clearing. He’d rushed to the well and threw the cover off, but he couldn’t see her. He tried shining his flashlight down, but the light wouldn’t reach the bottom. He could hear her, though. He hardly remembered now anchoring a rope and rappelling down to her. He was that desperate to reach her.

She was curled up in a ball in the wall of the well. Clever girl. She’d dug out protection from the rain. Her clothes were still slightly wet, being in a damp well for so long, but at least she wasn’t soaked. That’s because she’d been smart and dug out the hole.

But she’d harmed herself in the process. The fingers of one hand were a mess. He’d seen the holes in the dirt wall, at least what was left of them. Obviously, she’d tried to climb out by digging handholds, but the dirt had crumbled. He wondered if that’s when she’d broken her wrist. Or her ribs. He’d noticed the dried blood on the back of her head. Had Lauren struck her and then pushed her in? Or had she struck her head in the fall? It was an awfully long way down.

Upon reaching her, and when she was done yelling at him, he knew his first priority was fluids and heat. He’d fallen back on his paramedic’s training. Since he’d had to wait for the Nighthawks to get to him and rig up the basket, he’d started to grab things out of the pack to warm her up. He’d placed the needle for the IV in her vein and taped it in place.

He’d done the best he could with the available supplies to warm her. Graham knew the best warmth for her would be his own body heat. Despite the cold, he hadn’t hesitated to strip off his shirt. He’d laid next to her on the hard ground. Pushing her clothes aside, he’d pulled her into his arms, pressing his warm chest against her far too cold one. It seemed to have worked, somewhat. She had slowly come back to him.

Now that she was safe and he finally had time to process, he was angry. Why did this happen? If it had been Lauren; why?

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