by Bryn Bauer
Sofia’s eyes grew dark and hooded as though withdrawing. “They weren’t going to kill me.”
Quint looked surprised. “Why not?” Seeing Sofia’s face he quickly added, “That’s great of course, but after Joe turned you in, why wouldn’t they have killed…oh. Oh my god. They were going to sell you.”
“Right in one.”
Quint’s eyes sparkled with malice. “That son of a bitch better be dead.”
Sofia tried to lighten the moment. She had no urge to relive the rage and fear of the night. “Which one?”
Quint looked annoyed at her attempt at humor.
“Both, damn it.”
“Well, we know Castro’s in critical condition. That’s something.”
Quint shook his head. “Not enough.”
“Well, it will have to do for now. Quint, we need to focus on getting back.”
“You know we won’t be able to go back don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Joe’s still out there. He knows where you and I both live. We’ll go back to Charleston to get a few things and see your roommates safely out of town. Then we’ll need to run. For a while anyway. Would your father help us?”
She had never thought of what would happen after getting home. Home. That was a word she wouldn’t be able to use again. Perhaps not for years. “I- I suppose he would. We could probably hide at one of our family properties but Joe would likely expect that. I don’t want to put my father in danger.” Sofia was surprised to hear the sincerity in her voice. She actually meant it. She didn’t want to see her father come to any harm. She still felt resentment and anger, but it was as though she had been in a rock tumbler and the rough edges of it had worn down, making them smoother, easier to handle.
“I don’t think-“, Quint began but Sofia put up her hand to quiet him. A flicker of annoyance appeared and then, disappeared just as quickly. Quint had caught the same sound she had. Or, not so much as sound as a pulsing feeling in the air. As they looked to the horizon, the pulsing grew louder. A few moments later, they saw the helicopter looming not more than a half mile away. They would be seen in seconds. Quint pushed the motor hard and directed the zodiac toward the nearest cay which was not more than a few rocks and a stand of palm trees. Sofia and Quint had been keeping close to what small islands they found for just such an eventuality. The rocky islands were becoming more and more sparse as they motored into to open water and the closest one was a few hundred yards in front of them.
“Sofia, take this.” Quint guided Sofia’s hand to the motor handle. In the same motion, he drew and readied the pistol.
“We can make it.”
“I’m glad one of us is optimistic.”
They both crouched down further down in the zodiac. They didn’t want to stand out against the horizon any more than they already did. Still, the helicopter was drawing nearer, the sound of the rotor beat in Sofia’s blood like the cadence of a death march. Sofia saw that the boat was drawing near the island. The motor was at full speed. There was nothing more to do than hope they landed before being spotted. As the zodiac drew across the helicopters central view, she saw the nose turn. And the drum beat in her veins froze.
“They’ve seen us!” Quint yelled.
Sofia began weaving the zodiac in a zig zag pattern. If the helicopter began firing, the change in pattern might make them harder to hit. Just as she swung to port, a volley of shots hit the water where Quint’s head had just been. Sofia didn’t look at the helicopter. She kept her eyes focused in tunnel vision toward the island. A few moments later, the bow scraped the pebbled shore. Surrounded by gunfire, Quint and Sofia leapt out and dragged the zodiac into the trees. The shots continued, but they were now under dense foliage which would make it impossible to be accurate.
Sofia, still alarmed turned to Quint. “How can we get out? They can just land and come in after us or use heavier artillery.”
Quint shook his head. “No, they don’t have water landing runners. And I don’t see any heavy guns. Just the side mount automatic. I think we’ll be ok.”
“Until they radio for a patrol boat. Then we’re screwed.”
Quint’s shoulders sagged. “Right….”, then with decision, “right.”
He dashed from the trees with Sofia screaming for him to come back. What the hell did he think he was doing? She heard a shot and ran out to the tree line. Quint was on one knee aiming the pistol at the pilot.
“Aim for the rotor!”, she screamed. It was a more visible target than a person and just as effective. Quint bellowed in pain. Sofia looked back to see a rosette of blood growing on Quint’s chest. A cold rage overwhelmed Sofia. She walked from the trees and dragged Quint the few feet to safety. Not stopping to check him, she took the pistol from his hand and strode out to the sand. All doubt disappeared, replaced by the determination which stilled her aim.
She ignored the shots embedding themselves in the sand around her, took aim and fired at the rotor of the helicopter. Then fired again. And fired again. The last shot hit the mechanism. It ignited and she watched with satisfaction while the helicopter wobbled, growing more and more difficult to control. The shots from the helicopter ceased. Fire spread to the body and it began to lose altitude as the rotor stopped turning. She watched the pilot and gunner jump from the flaming doors.
Their splash jolted her out of the trance. They would be making their way to the island. Sofia was determined not to be there to welcome them. She ran back to the trees to see Quint, still alive. He was sitting up holding his left arm but was conscious and coherent. She quickly ripped a portion of her dress to hold on the wound just under his collarbone. She was relieved to see that the wound was no longer bleeding freely, but had slowed to an ooze. No major vessels had been hit then. Staunching the wound, she briefly related what had just occurred. Then urged Quint to stand.
“Can you walk? We need to get back to the zodiac, if the helicopter crew gets to shore, they may still be able to contact one of the patrol boats.” Quint’s face was white and soaked in sweat but he nodded weakly and forced his legs to move. He stumbled, and nearly fell which ripped the wound open again. He finally made it to the zodiac with significant help from Sofia. She quickly urged the zodiac in the water where Quint sat down heavily. Sofia knew the wound wasn’t fatal, but Quint needed medical attention right away. The padding over the wound was nearly soaked through.
Thirty minutes later, Quint lay in the bottom of the boat unconscious. The zodiac had been running over choppy sea, jostling his arm. The look of agony in his unconscious face told Sofia that his collarbone must be broken. She was also worried that the continued movement would drive the bullet deeper, possibly severing an artery or puncturing his lung. Looking ahead, Sofia’s heart leapt to see their destination no more than another five minutes away.
Just then Quint gasped and grunted. His eyes flew wide and he clutched at the wound then fell rigid onto the floor. His face had a yellowish, waxen look about it and Sofia yelled his name. She yelled over and over, trying to wake him but not daring to remove her hand from the motor handle. They had to make it. She looked at his face again. It held the same discolored rigidity that her mother’s face had worn that night so many years ago. The last minute seemed like an hour. As the zodiac approached, she let go of the rudder and allowed the boat to run aground. Before the boat stopped its skid she was out, sprinting toward the Koury Communications helicopter. In the next moment, the medic was out and running after her. Together they carried Quint and strapped him down in the helicopter even as it was taking off.
Thankfully, the man who Sofia assumed to be a medic was actually an emergency physician from Miami-Dade hospital. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her father’s foresight. Sofia watched as the doctor quickly moved his hand over Quint’s body. He looked up and shook his head.
“I don’t know Miss Koury; it seems the shell has punctured his lung. I can’t do anything except try to stabilize him until we get to Miami.”
/> “Nothing?!”
“If I try anything invasive here, I could do further damage to his lung. Nor do I have the proper tools like support meds or a crash cart.”
“Crash cart? To revive him. Is that really necessary?”
The medic rubbed a gloved finger under his nose and nodded, “It likely will be. His breathing is shallow and blood is seeping into the lung. Once we get to Miami, I can do a lot more.”
Sofia stared at Quint as the doctor gave the pilot instructions to head for Miami- Dade Hospital rather than the Koury Communications office as previously planned. She reached down and held Quint’s hand while the doctor worked to stabilize him. She clasped it tightly, willing her energy to keep him rooted to his body.
EIGHTEEN
At Miami Dade Medical Center, the pilots helped the doctor to rush Quint into surgery. Sofia was impressed with the pilots’ adaptability as they were normally only required to pick up executives and take them to this or that meeting. Sofia watched the hospital staff swarm around Quint while the gurney wheeled almost recklessly toward the emergency room. She kept her eyes on him even after the doors swung shut in her face. Finally, after several minutes, a nurse took her by the shoulders and led her to the surgery waiting room. Sofia sank into one of the plastic chairs and felt a warm cup of coffee being placed into her hand. She murmured some politeness and then sipped the bitter liquid just for something to do.
An hour later Sofia still held the empty Styrofoam cup, staring into nothing. She kept replaying the last twenty four hours over and over in her mind. How could Joe have done this? Taken her friend and now, possibly, her Love too. She sent a fervent thank you to her father, something she thought never to do. She had given him the one minute version of events during their call and he had not only sent the helicopter, but instructed his security detail to get her roommates out of the apartment in Charleston just in case Joe or his henchmen showed up there. Nobody outside of Koury Communications and the hospital staff yet knew that Sofia and Quint were here so she felt relatively safe, if uncomfortable, in the molded plastic chairs of the waiting room . She mulled over possible next steps for what felt like hours in that hard chair until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Attached to the hand was the doctor who had flown with them from Cuba. She stared at his face, trying to see some answer, some sign of what had happened. Nothing. Doctors must have the same gift she had of hiding emotion when needed. He replaced her empty cup with a fresh cup of coffee.
“Here. I brought you some from the Doctor’s lounge. It’s much better than this gunk.”
She nodded in thanks but didn’t drink. She couldn’t wait for the news.
“How is he? Were you able to remove the bullet?”
“Yes, but it’s early yet.” He hurried on as if to cut her relief short. “As I say it’s early. The bullet did a good deal of damage to his lung tissue and he lost a lot of blood.”
“But, he made it through surgery.” It came out as a statement as though avoiding a question would prevent the possibility of doubt. Sofia needed something to hold on to. Something to give her hope.
The doctor’s mouth turned up in a small crescent like a sickle moon. “Yes, he did.”
Sofia moaned in relief and the doctor motioned to her to follow him. “You can come see him if you’d like.” Knowing she would follow, he started down the hall continuing his explanation.
“Aside from the tissue damage, there’s a strong risk of infection. The wound was open for an awfully long time before he arrived. Also, we couldn’t get all of the shell out. It must have ricocheted off of his collarbone and shattered. Some of the smaller pieces are too close to his heart to get. It’s more of a risk to extract them than to leave -”. He was interrupted by an alert on his phone. Down the hall Sofia could see staff rushing into a room. The doctor began running.
Oh no thought Sofia, no. And she began running too.
The crush of people inside the room gathered in organized chaos was intense and prevented Sofia from entering but between the rushing bodies, she could see them hooking up electrodes to Quint’s body. She heard the command, “Clear!”, and then saw Quint’s body jerk with the jolt electricity. It was like watching an episode of a medical drama on TV except in those, the person almost always lives…almost. Again, and once more and Sofia’s heart jumped at hearing the heart monitor beep and then beep again and then resume its rhythm.
As the hospital staff cleared the room, Sofia came to Quint’s bedside. After a few moments, she noticed the doctor was still in the room.
“We’ll give him a whopping dose of antibiotics, that should help.”
Seeing that he was about to leave, Sofia gathered her courage to ask the question that had been bothering her like a rock in her shoe. “What are his chances?”
“About fifty-fifty. But we’ll do everything we can.”
Sofia sat down quite suddenly on the chair beside the bed, buried her face in her hands and began to cry in earnest. All her grief and worry came tumbling out in salty rivulets covering her face, hands and clothes. Sofia turned towards a noise in the hallway and saw the clock, only forty-five minutes had passed since Quint’s shock back to life. Only forty five minutes? Sofia was so focused on each of beat of his heart that it had seemed like hours. Each beat contained such risk and such success. Still focused on the monitor, willing the next beep to sound when she heard a nurse enter the room to change some of Quint’s dressings and drip. The nurse eyed Sofia and spoke in a soothing Caribbean accent.
“You look like you’re about to drop. Why don’t I find some scrubs or something for you to wear until you can get some clothes? Then you need to lie down and rest. You won’t be any good to him if you wear yourself out.”
Sofia laughed but had to stifle it lest it grow into maniacal cackling. Wear herself out? After what she had been through? She was well past that point, but appreciated the gesture. The nurse gave an all too understanding look. “You haven’t rested much have you?”
“Not unless you consider being knocked unconscious resting, and I don’t. Scrubs would be great, thanks. I believe I do need a rest.”
As the nurse left, Sofia realized she had been without sleep for two days. Adrenaline had kept her going through the night and then anxiety for Quint kept her eyes open during the next day, but those effects were rapidly wearing off. She was still anxious for Quint and what they would do after leaving the hospital, but her body had almost become immune, forcing other needs to the surface.
In the tiny bathroom, Sofia tried to wash her face, hands and neck as best she could. The cool water was manna from Heaven to her aching skin. She changed into the worn cotton scrubs. They felt wonderful after wearing the corseted top and binding skirt, now in ribbons in the trash can. She went to Quint’s bedside and clasped his hands.
“I’m going to try and sleep now”, she said to him in a mothering tone. “Don’t you dare die while I’m asleep. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare die!” If you do, I’ll kill you.”
Sofia thought she saw the corners of his mouth lift, but in the next moment, was sure she had imagined it. Gratefully, she sank down on the reclining chair and dropped into a nearly comatose slumber, still holding Quint’s hand.
She woke to find sunlight streaming in from the room’s slit of a window. She rubbed a hand over her face and through her tangled hair trying to wake herself up. Her eyes felt as though they had glass in them; they were red, swollen and scratchy. She sat up and peered over the bed rail at Quint. It may have only been the sunlight, but she thought his color looked better. The grayish, chalky tinge was gone, replaced by a slight rise of healthy pink. There had been no issues during the night.
A knock at the door prevented further examination. Sofia turned to find Gloria, a woman of fifty and her father’s senior aide. Gloria had worked for her father since Sofia was six. Gloria’s face broke into a wide smile, her smoky quartz eyes crinkling at the edges. She hurried forward and hugged Sofia ferociously. After releasing her, Glor
ia held her at arm’s length.
“What have you been doing girl? You look awful! How could you go and worry your father like that? What could you have been thinking of?”
Sofia sighed, half exasperated, half tenderness for Gloria’s clucking. The only way to handle Gloria was to prevent her from getting into her stride. Sofia cut her off.
“It’s so good to see you Gloria. Is my father still expecting me this morning?” Her father had asked her to come to Koury Communications today to arrange for her transportation home. Sofia also expected that she would be interrogated and scolded in turn too. Gloria grimaced a bit.
“No, he’s been called away urgently.” Then brightening she said, “But he has arranged transportation for you. And these.” She held up an overnight bag containing fresh clothes, shoes, and toiletries. The fresh, lavender scent that wafted from the bag was welcome after the reek of her unwashed body and antiseptic hospital smells.
“Thank you! I haven’t bathed for days.” Gloria eyed Sofia speculatively.
“To look at you, I would have said months, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Look, just between you and me, I don’t think Mr. Koury needed to leave so urgently.”
Sofia looked away. “I didn’t think so. I know he’s furious.” Gloria sat and pulled Sofia down to sit next to her before continuing.
“No, that’s not what I mean. You should have seen the look on his face. I’ve never seen him look worried or scared. Never. I think you scared the hell out of him. He just doesn’t want to take it out on you. You should have heard him storming up and down the halls.”
“But he can take it out on you?! That’s not right either!” Gloria made a shushing motion to quell Sofia’s outrage.
“No, he was raging and storming to mobilize everyone. To get you back.”
“Oh. I…oh.” Sofia was speechless. She had always supposed that she was a necessary inconvenience to her father. And she truly had never suspected that he would react in such a way. Sofia straightened. Not that it changed her mind about him. He still had her mother’s death to answer for. But, she noticed that some of the vehemence of her dislike had faded and the ice around her heart melted a degree or two more.