The roar of the helicopter engine grew louder, and the down wash from the rotors whipped the sea into foam and driving spray, around the small rubber dinghy.
Something inside his subconscious assured him help was coming soon, but Max was past caring whether it was friend or foe. The effects of primary hypothermia were clearly evident as he lay back naked in the dinghy. His core body temperature was now below 27°c and he had long since passed through the stage of shivering into total numbness. Thought was no longer possible, his heart rhythm was severely disordered and his pulse undetectable.
A small team of scientists had flown out by helicopter, from Guadeloupe, to observe the volcano on Montserrat, as it became more unstable. On approaching the island, they flew at low level directly over Max, and spotted the light reflecting from his white body, in contrast to the surrounding dark water. The helicopter immediately dropped lower and hovered, as the occupants decided how they would make the rescue.
The two crew members standing on the skids struggled to drag his stiff, awkward body aboard. The pilot wrestled with the controls to keep the cabin above the waves, the skids often plunging below the surface. There was no hoist fitted to this machine for rescue, it was not there for that purpose.
To the medically untrained eye, Max appeared dead. There were no detectable life signs, so they placed the body in a secure position within the cabin and went about their scientific observations.
At that moment, the volcano exploded; there was a blinding light, followed seconds later by the shock wave. The crew and scientists, still blinded and awestruck by the event, failed to notice the dented and crested water surface, racing in an ever-widening arc towards the lifting helicopter. It tossed the light aircraft upwards, out of control like a leaf in a storm.
The pilot had heard the chatter amongst the scientists, about what happens when volcanos erupt; he immediately realized that pyroclastic flow was the ultimate problem to face.
Once the shockwave had passed, he regained control and applied full power in a gradual climb, at maximum forward speed back to Guadeloupe. He had mentally calculated that he could neither out climb nor outrun the following cloud, but a bit of both was better than just giving up and waiting for it to hit them.
“Buckle up everyone,” the pilot commanded, “ in a few minutes we will be hit by the pyroclastic cloud, so close all openings and pray we get lucky!”
The minutes ticked by as everyone waited tensely for the inevitable, expecting the sudden impact of the gas and ash, as it punched into the fragile machine. They knew the searing heat would melt, blister and ignite anything combustible; the solids of clogging ash and scouring dust particles would be sucked into the turbines, coating and then melting the delicately balanced precision blades.
Within a few milliseconds, a destructive vibration would occur that could cause the engine to explode, or at best, shake free of its mountings. The rotor blades would certainly snap off as each blade ploughed into the dense cloying ash cloud, and they would plummet into the sea which hurtled by just below.
From one quick look back at the cloud, the pilot was in no doubt that it was gaining on them, rapidly.
The seething gas cloud tumbled over itself as it raced across the surface of the ocean; the entire cloud appeared to be dragged along by its upper part.
The only option was for the pilot to start descending and so increase forward speed; then perhaps drop below the upper bulge of the cloud. At least if they were close to the surface when the cloud struck, they would not die from falling out of the sky.
A minute later, the helicopter levelled out just feet above the water. The pitch of the screaming engine also dropped, as did the forward speed.
Looking back again, the pyroclastic cloud was right on them and looking up, the cloud was over them.
“It’s about to hit us,” the pilot shouted to no one in particular, and they all braced even tighter.
Death was looming, any moment now!
The seconds ticked by and still no impact; the pilot glanced back and the cloud was hovering, but were they holding their own?
Checking again, they were slightly ahead, or was it wishful thinking? No, they were outrunning the cloud, it was losing energy and they could still make it out alive.
As the cloud dropped back, the pilot started to regain height and checked his position; they were getting close to Guadeloupe and safety! "Looks like we are going to make it after all," he announced through the intercom.
A loud cheer from his passengers pounded his ears through the headset.
“I will radio ahead and get attendance for the dead man in the back, you lot owe me a drink.” Another loud cheer, and a broad grin spread across the pilot’s face.
***
The landing at Guadeloupe was one of supreme relief for everyone on board, except Max, who was still in a coma. The ambulance crew who collected the body did a perfunctory examination, and became extremely agitated when they detected a heart flutter.
“Hey! We’ve got a live one here. Radio ahead and warn them of an incoming hypothermia case. ”
The vehicle left the airport, wheels screeching and siren blaring, as they raced swiftly away in an attempt to save the patient’s life.
A few minutes later, a medical team wheeled Max at speed on a trolley through the hospital. One nurse ran alongside with an oxygen mask clamped over his face and another sat astride his naked torso, applying chest compressions.
Max’s cold, thick blood was hard to circulate in his hypothermic state. The difficult task ahead was to raise his core body temperature to thin his blood, getting oxygen to his brain and other vital organs. They may soon be damaged, if they were not already.
A cut down and bypass to the vascular system was inserted and functioning. This at least would soon warm the blood, as it passed through the heating equipment and circulated to the vital organs.
As the resuscitation took place, other serious symptoms manifested themselves. He was found to be suffering from chronic cell damage, totally unrelated to the hypothermia, so several specialists were called for a consult.
The core temperature increased, as did Max’s metabolism and the damage from the radiation exposure developed at an increasing rate. They were winning on one front, but losing on another.
With no clues as to his identity or case history, and only common sense to guide them, it was fortunate that one consultant recognized the symptoms. He was ridiculed at first, there were no nuclear sources in the area that could account for the condition, but nonetheless, the patient’s symptoms were unambiguous.
Treatment for radiation exposure commenced at once and a call put through to the Authorities. Tests confirmed the diagnosis and arrangements were made to transfer Max to a secure facility in Langley (suburb of McLean, VA) as soon as he could be moved. The CIA believed him to be a terrorist, and that interrogation could lead to the arrest of other members of the cell or cells!
Max’s condition continued to confound the medical team. Initially, they agreed there was no prospect of recovery, just the slow and inevitable decline as his irradiated organs shut down, but contrary to expectations, his condition was improving.
A new challenge; Max now had a rising temperature, probably indicating a serious infection, yet to be identified.
***
Meanwhile, the CIA was investigating every database in the world that could shed light on the identity of the patient. This alerted Sam Leighton, head of The Organization, to the fact that Max was alive and his location. The Organization held interests in the companies and provided support, to individuals responsible for software development across the world, and they had altered Max’s records to prevent him from being identified.
Max was still in a deep coma, so the CIA could not advance their investigation beyond fingerprints and DNA. To their frustration, the fingerprints did not show a match and the DNA results continuously threw up anomalous results, due to stem cell treatment.
***
Shortly after Max had become involved with the Organization, he was badly injured and unbeknown to him, he was the subject of an experiment. The stem cells should have remained local to the injury, but as revealed during frequent medical follow ups by The Organization, they had spread throughout his body. So far, the effects were miraculous; it had rejuvenated his whole body.
However, the most recent test after his mission in Egypt, showed signs of the cells turning cancerous. Sam decided not to tell Max, but sent him on the suicide mission, to report on the dumping of nuclear waste into the volcano on Montserrat.