Moments later, Harry regained consciousness as he lay on his back, stretched out on the floor of the galley. A sandy-haired young man in a jogging suit was hovering over him as he knelt to pump the bulb on a blood-pressure monitor. Harry could feel the sleeve of the device growing tight on his arm. There was a clear plastic mask covering his nose, and its tube extended to a green compressed-gas tank attached to the bulkhead. Harry took a deep breath and felt his head clear as the oxygen filled his lungs. The hit from the pure gas was bracing.
Aldo and Zehra were standing nearby, speaking to each other in low tones. Four people were about all you could fit in there.
“Ah, you’re awake!” the young man said to him softly. “You passed out. Too much to drink, maybe? No worries, we check you.”
