Polar Reaction by Claire Thompson

left the room in search of the oxygen tank and facemask.
    When he returned, Brendan was in the process of injecting an anesthetic at the site of the wound. Tuck winced as the needle slipped below the skin, his face still very pale. Brendan had removed the bloody bandage, revealing a gash about an inch long on Tuck’s forehead.
    “Let me know if it hurts. That injection should numb you up pretty good.” In addition to fitness and stamina training, as well as altitude training, Jamie had also taken an extensive first-aid course in preparation for this assignment. Still, he was relieved Brendan had stepped forward with confidence for this particular job. Stitching moleskin in a classroom setting was a far cry from the real thing.
    Brendan pulled on surgical gloves and prepared the needle and thread. Jamie watched, fascinated and a little sick at the sight of the needle being drawn through Tuck’s skin. Tuck’s eyes were closed but he didn’t seem to be in any pain from the sharp needle, thank goodness. Brendan worked carefully, producing small even stitches. When he was done, he tied a knot and snipped off the thread. After applying an antiseptic ointment, he put a fresh bandage over the wound.
    Jamie moved forward, securing the facemask over Tuck’s nose and mouth. “This should ease the nausea and the headache as it counteracts the CO. Let me know when you’re feeling better.”
    He knelt beside the bed, monitoring Tuck as Brendan moved about, putting away the first-aid supplies. Brendan returned. “Here. Have some water.”
    Gratefully Jamie took the glass. He hadn’t realized he was parched until that moment. He drank deeply, finishing the glass. Brendan took it and went back into the kitchen, returning with a fresh glass.
    Tuck stirred and opened his eyes. “I’m feeling better, I think.” His voice was muffled beneath the facemask. Jamie released the straps, careful not to touch the bandage.
    Brendan nudged Jamie aside, his focus on Tuck. “You should rehydrate.” He cradled Tuck’s head, holding it as Tuck sipped. Jamie turned away.

Chapter Seven
    “I wonder how long he was out before we got to him.” Jamie lay sprawled across the couch, a cup of tea rapidly cooling in his mug.
    Brendan sat at the card table, his laptop in front of him. He looked up sharply at the question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Jamie was startled by the vehemence in Brendan’s tone. He felt himself getting defensive. “It means we were sitting around on our asses catching our breath after we climbed back through the window, while Tuck was lying there unconscious in a pool of his own blood.”
    Tuck was sleeping, his forehead swathed in bandages. The horrifying memory of him lying crumpled and bleeding in the generator shed lingered in Jamie’s mind, and he suppressed a shudder.
    “You’re right.” Brendan’s tone became conciliatory. “I’m sorry I snapped. I was just sitting here feeling guilty about Tuck. I should have paid more attention when he didn’t immediately respond to my all-clear signal.”
    “You mean with the walkie-talkies? You signaled when we were done and heading back, right?”
    “Yeah, and he didn’t answer. I just figured he was distracted with whatever he was doing. In retrospect, though, he could have already been unconscious at that point. My failure to react could have killed him.”
    Brendan looked so stricken Jamie opened his mouth to assure Brendan it wasn’t his fault. Then the image of Brendan pushing him away so he could hold Tuck’s head, lifting the glass of water to his lips like a lover, reared itself in his mind. His generous impulse dried up like water vapor in the dry Antarctic air.
    He knew he wasn’t being fair. Brendan had taken good care of Tuck, far better than Jamie could have done on his own. Calling on his better nature, Jamie attempted some reassurance. “He was pretty lucid after regaining consciousness so the odds are the blow wasn’t too severe. You