Page 131 of The Unlikely Pair
One of them, a tall woman with stern features, shouts at us over the helicopter’s roar.
“Mr. Webley, Mr. Matheson?”
As if there is some uncertainty regarding our identities.
I nod in reply.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Kathy Taylor. We need to move quickly. Are either of you injured?”
I blink at the Navy personnel huddled around us, taken aback by their appearance. They look so…clean. Neatly pressed uniforms, immaculately groomed. Even though the accentemanating from the commander’s mouth is as British as marmite, it sounds foreign to my ears.
“No, we’re not injured,” Toby speaks up.
“Where are the hostiles?”
“About five miles in that direction, over that ridge.”
She gives a grim nod, then speaks into her wristpiece before returning her attention to us.
“Let’s go. Move to the helicopter now.”
And so Toby and I cover our heads and sprint towards the helicopter’s gaping doors.
Inside, it’s cramped but warm, the heat from the engines a welcome change from the biting cold outside. I slump onto a bench seat, and a survival blanket is placed around my shoulders.
The helicopter blades begin to speed up, and suddenly, we’re airborne.
I barely have time to register that fact before a medic is assessing me, checking my pulse and temperature.
I instinctively flinch away from him.
It seems wrong to have someone other than Toby touching me. To have soft, impersonal hands rather than Toby’s roughened and calloused from wood chopping.
I raise my eyes to Toby on the opposite side of the helicopter. He’s also receiving a medical check.
He meets my gaze, and suddenly, I find myself unable to look anywhere but into his hazel eyes.
Toby and I just sit there, staring at each other. I know Toby so well, but, in this moment, I can’t read what’s going on inside that head of his. I imagine it’s like mine, a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts.
But one cold, hard fact slices through the rest of my thoughts like steel.
I was so focused on extricating us from that life-or-death situation that I didn’t stop to think through the ramifications of being rescued.
It is the end of Toby and me.
The day becomes a blur. The helicopter lands at Helsinki airport, and we’re immediately hurried into the waiting RAF Voyager and flown to Birmingham to the Royal Centre for Defense Medicine, where I’m bustled straight into a barrage of medical tests.
It’s only when a doctor is examining inside my ears that I suddenly realize Toby is missing.
“Where’s Toby?” I ask the doctor.
“Due to medical confidentiality, Mr. Webley is being assessed in a separate space,” she replies.
Medical confidentiality? It seems preposterous that anything about Toby should be kept confidential from me. I spent forty-two days living with him, learning everything possible to know.
But I hold my tongue. I’m sure I’ll get to see Toby soon.
After the doctor finishes examining me, I’m ushered through to have a shower. The hot water beating down on my skin feels like an unbelievable luxury. It seems unimaginable that I’ve never fully realized what an amazing experience a shower is. I want to find Toby, because I know he’ll share my appreciation.
