Free Ash by James Herbert Page A

Ash and knelt to attend to her patient. ‘It’s all right, Petra, everything’s okay,’ Ash heard her say soothingly.
    But the young girl was still in panic and she thrashed at the air around her as if the plane were still in free-fall.
    ‘Petra, Petra, please.’ The psychologist held the quaking girl’s wrists to avoid being struck herself.
    ‘Can I help?’
    Dr Wyatt motioned her head towards the seat she’d occupied before the Gulfstream’s loss of power. ‘If you could get my bag . . .’ She hardly glanced at Ash, concerned that her hysterical patient might injure herself.
    ‘Sure.’ Ash reached for the leather strap-bag that was now wedged beneath the seat opposite, but he was restrained by his own safety belt. He quickly released the metal clasp and reached again for the bag. Pulling it free, he turned and thrust it towards the doctor.
    ‘Please, open it for me,’ she said evenly, her hands still around the girl’s wrists.
    Ash fumbled with the bag’s two buckles and opened it up. Finally releasing Petra, the doctor took the crinkled leather bag and reached inside.
    ‘I have to sedate her,’ she said briskly. ‘I gave her a mild sedative before we boarded, but she needs something a lot stronger. It means an injection if it’s to have an immediate effect.’
    ‘Anything I can do? Hold her down, maybe?’
    ‘No, I can manage. She’d only fight against you, but she trusts me.’ Now the psychologist turned her head his way. No confusion this time: she was all efficiency, emotions put aside for a while. ‘You could see if anyone else is hurt. The stewardess might be injured if she wasn’t wearing a belt.’
    Ash levered himself off the seat. ‘Call me if you need a hand with Petra.’
    But Dr Wyatt was already drawing out a small medical box from the open bag, all her concentration on treating her distressed patient.
    Ash made his way down the cabin, walking unsteadily, and not just because he was on a moving plane. His first stop was by the shabby little man with the bald head. He was frozen in his seat, hands gripping the armrests on either side, his eyes closed. He could have been unconscious.
    Leaning closer to the man, Ash said, ‘You okay? Can I get you anything? A drink, maybe? The plane’s fine, there’s no more danger.’
    The man’s eyes opened, and they were cold as he stared up at Ash. ‘You might see to the stewardess,’ he said quietly. ‘I think she took a fall.’
    Ash left him, wondering why this guy hadn’t gone to Ginny’s aid himself. He found her on the floor by the exit door, the seat in front hiding her from view. She seemed to have hit the back of her head when the Gulfstream had taken the dive, for one hand was stretched behind her neck as if feeling for a wound. At least her eyes were open, Ash noted as he knelt beside her. Her eyelids fluttered, but she recognized him immediately.
    ‘You must have cracked your head when the plane dropped,’ he said.
    Ginny blinked several times more before responding. ‘I think I’m okay,’ she assured him weakly. ‘No real damage, just a knock to the head.’ She tried to rub the spot, but it was awkward for her.
    ‘Let me take a look.’ Ash put a hand around her neck and gently pulled her head away from the door. He peered over her shoulder and felt her scalp through her thick hair. ‘No blood. You might have a bump there soon. D’you hurt anywhere else?’
    ‘The – the other passengers,’ she managed to stammer. ‘Is everyone all right?’ She seemed genuinely anxious and Ash was impressed.
    ‘They’re all fine, just a bit shaken,’ he reassured her. ‘The young girl, though – Petra – is in shock. Dr Wyatt’s treating her right now.’
    ‘And – and you, Mr Ash. Any injuries?’
    ‘No, I was lucky. Still strapped in.’
    ‘We always recommend passengers keep their seatbelt on throughout the flight.’
    ‘Well, people don’t like to think they’re in mortal danger. Seems kind of wimpish to stay