The Noise

by James Patterson

dealing with a sick little girl. Over her headphones, the pilot said, “On approach to McChord. Prepare for landing. East field.” “Lewis–McChord Air Force Base?” Harbin said, turning toward one of the windows. Martha glanced out too and watched as the pilot maneuvered over one of the runways and began following it toward the opposite end of the airfield and a group of hangars. When Tennant let out a soft whimper, Martha took her hand. “It’s okay. We’ll be on the ground soon.” The skin of Tennant’s fingers and palm felt rough, callused. She had the hands of a manual laborer beyond her years. With expert precision, the pilot set the chopper down about fifty feet from the largest of the hangars, and Martha heard the blades above slow to a deep thump. Fraser was first out of his harness and to his feet. He told the two soldiers, “Take both girls to 185. They’re expecting you. Doctors, you’re both with me.” “What’s 185? I need to stay with Sophie and monitor—” “It’s okay, Doctor. I’ll take good care of her.” Martha turned toward the voice. Dr. Fitch was standing at the helicopter door with two orderlies. He looked tired. Wind from the blades above twisted and tossed his hair. He was holding it out of his face with one hand. There were heavy bags under his eyes. “I’ve been kept apprised of her current situation. I’ll get her situated, and you can join us when you’re through.” Before she could respond, he nodded at the orderlies—they jumped up into the helicopter and went to work ...