Ali shook his head and wiped the tears and smoke stains from his face. His main concern was that Mohammed survived his horrendous injuries although he didn’t hold out much hope. Ali could not even imagine the pain Mohammed must now be suffering. One thing was certain and that was Ali and the rest of the world would not be prepared for what was to happen next as a result of Mohammed’s actions. The stability of the region was about to be put to its sternest test and little did anyone know this poor and innocent vegetable seller was about to change the political world as everyone knew it…..forever.
His actions would see the president of Tunisia Zine al-Abedine Ben Ali flee the country and the ripple of unrest and anger spread and grow larger the further it travelled. The people of the Middle East and other Islamic states were now speaking and they would not stop until somebody listened. The Arab spring had begun and the rest of the world watched and held its breath.
Chapter 2
England, 30th April 2011.
“Wyre dinner is ready!”
“Ok dear be right there!”
Oliver sat waiting in anticipation as his mother carried his plate of meatballs and pasta sauce over to the dining table with his glass of milk. His large brown eyes watched the plate being placed down, before his mother Susan returned to the kitchen to pour two glasses of red wine. Wyre, Susan and Oliver were typical of a modern day family who did their best to spend as much quality time as possible together whilst trying to hold down jobs they both enjoyed and had worked hard to train for. The trouble was both Wyre’s and Susan’s jobs took them away from home and abroad for long periods of time meaning times spent together were precious. As they prepared to sit down and eat together on this rare occasion the BBC News 24 programme on the TV was muted. Susan didn’t turn it completely off because Wyre would want to keep one eye on the screen whilst dining. Not because he would rather watch television than talk to his family but his job sometimes required it.
Wyre was a doctor but not a run of the mill doctor. Just by looking at him it was obvious there was something slightly different about him with his fit muscular physique, tanned weathered features and stubble covered face. With his dishevelled black but greying hair and shirt sleeves rolled up revealing thick forearms the forty two year old could have easily been mistaken for a member of the armed forces, even the Special Forces. Wyre had the look of someone confident in what he did and gave the impression he would take no messing. Susan also gave this impression and with Wyre, both looked the professional people they actually were. This look Wyre portrayed didn’t always work in his favour due to where his work took him. Not only was he a doctor, but his expertise was required in war torn countries and regions crippled by conflict. As a medical advisor and a member of the organisation called Medecins Sans Frontieres Wyre would receive a phone call one day and be expected to be in the middle of a war as an expert and helping people affected by conflict the next. Of course you could not be an expert advisor or a doctor from an office outside the affected area. On the ground amongst the fighting and where the locals were being injured and killed was where he was required, to be the most effective. Medecins Sans Frontieres or Doctors Without Borders as it was also known in English was a medical humanitarian organisation based in Geneva, Switzerland and believe that all people have the right to medical care regardless of race, religion, creed or political affiliation. Wyre regularly treated soldiers of an oppressing ruling party alongside rebels fighting for their freedom. The organisation was made up of mostly doctors, nurses and other medical professions but also logistical experts, water and sanitation engineers. This meant Wyre shared the load amongst other doctors and medical advisors meaning he would be asked to do two weeks, sometimes a month in the country and then spend two to three weeks at home. It was a system used to keep all those involved sane. Sipping his glass of wine and glancing at the TV, Wyre watched Oliver tucking into his meatballs forcing him to smile at Susan who in turn smiled back affectionately.
Susan rubbed her fingers through Oliver’s hair and cautiously studied the TV. The headlines that were being played out across the world would ultimately affect Susan as well as Wyre as her job also took her into the Middle East region. As a financial advisor to various large companies, some even being connected to governments, Susan was well paid and held the ears of very powerful Sheikhs in the region. She also oozed confidence in her abilities but on first acquaintance you would be forgiven for thinking she was a run of the mill mother with her mousey coloured hair, her modest brown eyes and her slender, fit figure. Susan’s appearance could easily betray but her determined features and year round sun kissed complexion told a different story. She looked good for a forty year old and when she would perform the school run with Oliver she would draw looks from other mothers. Intrigue was evident especially as both Susan and Wyre kept themselves to themselves and made very few friends. They kept themselves private, mainly because any spare time was precious and selfishly made no effort to socialise. Only Wyre’s family took up any spare time they had and sometimes Susan would visit Tunbridge Wells to visit her old and frail Grandma who was being consumed with dementia. Their jobs were not the only reason why they preferred family life to friendships. They both questioned whether continuing their careers was another selfish act on their part when Oliver was diagnosed with Leukaemia eighteen months earlier. The first six months after the diagnosis both Susan and Wyre stayed at home and cared for Oliver, both their employers being very understanding. As soon as he had settled into his treatment and support from family members was offered a normal life resumed. It took a lot of convincing from doctors that the quicker their normal routine was lived the easier it would be for Oliver to deal with the illness. It was being kept in check by medication and a few brief sessions of radio therapy but doctors had warned them that there were signs it was now affecting the bone marrow and not just the blood. This would mean possible chemotherapy or even a bone marrow transplant. They both knew that Oliver’s health was getting worse and soon their careers would come to an end or at least be put on hold so they could look after him and be with him full time. The conversation turned to Oliver’s day at school and how well he had done in his spelling test. Oliver held court.
“Yes Daddy Mrs Wilmslow said I did very well because I got eight out of ten in my spelling test. I think I could have done better but Robert kept talking to me”
“Oh, well perhaps you should concentrate more but eight out of ten is very good Oliver”
“Thank you Daddy, when are you going away to work again Daddy?”
Wyre forced a smile at Oliver before glancing at Susan and then the TV. The Arab spring, as it was being called was growing and at the moment the ruling party under threat was Colonel Gaddafi’s Libya. The whole of the Middle East and some Islamic countries were speaking out against the brutal regimes, the oppressive dictators and so called ruling parties who were taking everything from their people but giving nothing back. Even though sometimes the only way to rule these countries to keep the various tribes and religions living in peace was to rule with a brutal iron fist, the Arab people had seen enough and wanted change. Wyre had just returned from Tunisia and Egypt where the uprising was happening with a limited amount of bloodshed. He had spent a week in each country assessing the situation and reporting back to the United Nations regarding the medical situation. There had been battles and an attempt to crush the rebellions but to no avail. Lives had been inevitably lost but the casualty count did not require too much action from outside countries. Brutality was still rife from those loyal to the regimes but great restraint was being shown, in particular from the Egyptian army who had made it public that they would not fire on their own citizens. Wyre and his colleagues were satisfied that the medical situation did not require more than a handful of western experts on the ground to advise and keep a check on the situation. The story in Libya was turning out to be a whole different kettle of fish. Colonel Gaddafi seemed determined to take his country to war against each othe
r, neighbour against neighbour. Disillusionment was evident in the Colonel’s approach to the situation and it was apparent he would remain defiant until the end. The Tunisian and the Egyptian governments knew that it was only a matter of time before they would have to step aside due to the relentless pressure from people on the streets. President Mubarak was close to accepting the fact that his forty years in power were coming to an end. Wyre glanced at Susan with a concerned look as images of fighting and smoke pouring over the skyline of some of the cities in Libya flashed upon the screen. Oliver was too busy eating his meatballs to be bothered with the television so they left the sound turned down but watched the scenes of innocent civilians being carried away on stretchers. The awful and harrowing pictures of relatives leant over the dead bodies of family members including children and coffins after coffins being carried through the streets of Misrata. Propaganda or no propaganda the country was a tinder box waiting to ignite into all-out war. The Libyan uprising was in its second month and right on cue Wyre’s phone burst in to life.
“Yes ok that’s fine” was all Wyre had to say as he received his instructions on where he had to be and when.
Susan didn’t have to ask as she knew by now that probably tomorrow Wyre would be there amongst the ravages of war in a country on the brink probably performing operations on locals in a cave or a hospital that had been bombed to the point of collapse. She changed the TV channel to CBEEBIES for Oliver and took a long sip of her wine. She would now have to change her plans for flying out to Dubai on Monday for a crucial meeting.
It was an hour later when both Wyre and Susan appeared back downstairs in the lounge. Oliver was fast asleep and Wyre’s bags were packed for his next trip that would commence tomorrow. They both slumped down onto the sofa as Susan passed Wyre another glass of wine, kissing him on the lips as she did so.
“How did Oliver go down to sleep?” asked Wyre affectionately stroking Susan’s hair away from her face.
“He was fine……..I think the treatment is taking its toll though. When you finish this trip and I get back from Dubai then it might be time to put our jobs on hold for a while” said Susan forcing Wyre to take a huge gulp of his red wine. Susan studied her husband with pain written across her face. She knew that as strong as Wyre was, Oliver’s illness was taking its toll on them both but none more so than Wyre. Naturally Wyre loved his son but Susan and Wyre’s ages meant Oliver was most likely to be their only child. They both openly agreed when he was born that he would probably be an only child. Now the reality of losing him was creeping up on Wyre and this coupled with him being a doctor meant he was racked with guilt that he could do nothing to prevent the inevitable. Susan placed her wine down on the coffee table and cuddled up close to Wyre. The eve of a departure for either of them was always an emotional affair especially as Wyre’s job came with risks. Susan always seemed the stronger of the two when it came to saying goodbye. If you had to guess what type of person Susan was it wouldn’t be easy. The soft gentle and caring mother dropping her son off at school dressed in jeans, rocket dog boots, a sweater and a body warmer was in stark contrast to the business woman who would leave the plane after landing in the desert somewhere to enter a meeting with possibly ten to fifteen Arab men, sheikhs and usually several diplomats from several Middle Eastern countries, dressed in a suit and armed with instructions on how they might finance their lifestyles and their countries. Her reputation preceded her and she had little time for fools. At first the men of the Middle East struggled to deal with her but being impeccable at her job meant she soon won them over. Word soon spread and her services became very sought after. Back in England she was also needed and not just by Oliver. She was Wyre’s rock but both needed each other as much.
Susan carefully placed her hand on Wyre’s wine glass and guided it to the small table next to the sofa. As Susan straddled Wyre she began to undo his shirt and he hers whilst passionately kissing each other. In no time at all they were both topless and Susan’s breasts were being cupped in Wyre’s hands before he would cup his mouth over each nipple, kissing and sucking on them. As various items of clothing lay scattered across the floor including Knickers and boxer shorts, Wyre smiled then flinched at the point of penetration because Susan would always bite his neck and shoulder muscle. It was always passionate between them as both of them came to climax pulling each other’s hair cussing and swearing as both their fit bodies worked hard to please each other and make each other orgasm. As soon as it was over and they had wiped themselves clean they would lay naked on the sofa and it was then Wyre’s thoughts always turned to the fact that he would not see his family for at least a few weeks and as much as he thrived on his job it always tore him apart. The eve of a trip away was also traumatic for Oliver who never really slept well. All Oliver knew was his daddy was going away and he didn’t want him too.
*
The ground seemed to shake before the noise of the explosion ripped through the street, sending huge chunks of building and body parts towards Wyre and his team of medical staff. They were told the fighting had not reached this far into the town yet but the miss-information meant they were now right in the thick of it as ordinary people dived from building to building in the hope of getting to their destination safely while trying to lead as normal life as possible.
“Wyre we need to leave now” shouted the local Arab leader of the security team that always accompanied the medical staff.
“Mr Davis this is not a good situation” said a much calmer Arab voice crouched next to Wyre in the doorway of the local hospital.
It was Saleem, the head doctor of the Libyan hospital on the outskirts of Misrata. He had been explaining to Wyre how they were just about managing to cope with the casualties that had been coming in for treatment during the unrest. Wyre glanced around at his staff of mixed nationalities including British, French, Italian and Arab nurses, paramedics and medical staff. He had to make a decision and it had to be quick on whether he agreed that his team leave the area in the vehicles that were waiting a couple of blocks away or whether they treated the casualties that were now lying in the street. The emotions on the faces of his team were mixed. Some were already looking in the direction where they knew the vehicles were, expressions filled with fear and just wanting to get the hell out of there. Some of the more experienced members were glancing towards the injured that were now screaming and crying in pain, the casualties praying to the words of the Koran in the hope that they could be saved. Wyre stared at Saleem to try and gage what he wanted to do and straight away Wyre’s mind was made up. Over the sound of gunfire and distant mortar rockets landing, Wyre shouted instructions to his staff and explained that those who did not want to enter the street to treat the wounded would not be thought less of, it was their choice. At that Wyre with Saleem and Andy, the ex SAS sergeant and now Wyre’s personal security guy, kept low and proceeded to the first group of casualties. The first guy was dressed typically in rebel clothing and had been seriously injured by the rocket that had been fired by Gaddafi loyalists. He was alive but his arm was missing and he was losing large amounts of blood. Marcello one of Wyre’s team started working on him whilst Wyre made his way to what looked like a child of about 4 years old. The boy was shaking profusely and looked shocked but Wyre could see nothing immediately wrong with him. Picking him up Wyre could see that he was filled with fear and the boy reached out to the stranger who was now holding him in his arms whilst struggling to breathe. Even the ear splitting sound of Andy opening fire with his SA80 on a group of soldiers now approaching them in a vehicle a couple of hundred yards down the street did nothing to startle the child as Wyre could see he was convulsing and breathing his last. Then the tell- tale signs of the child’s pupils in his eyes slowly fading and blood coming out of the child’s ears and nose told Wyre and Andy that he was beyond saving. Wyre picked him up and ran for the cover of a doorway behind a burnt out car. Kissing the child’s forehead he held him in his arms until he could feel the child struggle
and breathe no more.
As the other members of Wyre’s team proceeded to tend to the injured so did groups of rebels appear on foot and in pick- up trucks, meaning the Gaddafi soldiers that were now advancing on their position would surely retreat so the medical team could carry on their work. The screaming and cries of help were now drowned out with ferocious gunfire. Wyre watched with awe as a rebel fighter crouched down in front of an injured woman in the street and signalled to Wyre that he would protect him as best he could so he could treat the casualty. As Wyre and Andy reached the woman, the rebel’s Kalashnikov burst into life but all of Wyre’s focus was on the woman who had shrapnel wounds to her legs. A few minutes went by before Wyre was startled by a tap on his shoulder and it was Andy.
BEYOND THE SPRING Page 2